~ An Angel To Me ~

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


She's an angel. Well, an angel to me, anyway.

She has an ethereal quality, with skin that seems to glow as though encased inside her is pure moonlight. Her hair is a spectrum of browns; mousey, gold, cinnamon, coffee, sepia, mahogany… Every strand hangs perfectly as though they were the yet unused threads of an exquisite tapestry. I could stare at it for a lifetime, and still, I would never know the name of every colour that weaves itself into her tresses.

Her eyes are in another league entirely. At first glance they're just blue, but once you take the time to truly see, the colours that dance like the aurora borealis are blatant. In the darkness, they look like rock pools at midnight, with a universe of stars reflected in their surface. In the daylight, though, azure glows shine through, beaded with lapis lazuli. They're the kind of eyes that feel like they are piercing deep into my soul, reading every line of love that is sketched upon my heart.

With her lips, she reads those words aloud, giving a voice to a love that would be impossible to describe if it was from any others' mouth. She makes it sound like a song, a symphony of lyres and harps, and a celestial concerto that transcends even the heavens.

A kiss upon her scarlet lips tastes of summer. It is strawberries and cream, watermelon and sherbet. A perfect mix of sweetness and citrus. Her smell, ah, her smell… Her skin smells like vanilla and almonds, and her hair like the apple-scented shampoo she uses. It's perfect.

She's a little piece of paradise.

…oOo..

It doesn't take much to pull it all away.

One quip taken the wrong way. One step into a chaotic mess.

One second to destroy a life.

It played at full volume: her arching through the air and thrown into the wall with a sickening crack. That monster tore at her throat, ripping the life from her fragile body.

My heart beats in my ears, like a drummer at a memorial parade. Rhythmic, fast, and ever crying out in anguish. The brute is gone now, and I'm by her side and so aware of the silence in her chest. A sigh leaves her lips, and life leaves her eyes. The midnight blue, azure and lapis lazuli fade, leaving nothing but a greying tinge of a brackish pond.

I touch her hair and tangle my fingers into it, seeing it dull like the autumn leaves that pirouette sadly to the ground.

I kiss her lips and taste nothing.

Blood leaks from a gash in her head, trailing down her face and filling up her mouth. It spills over and leaves perfect circles on her dress, like they were supposed to be there. Vivid in the dying sun, the blood splats slowly darken to a deep brown, staining her forever.

The smell of copper, oh god, the smell of copper clings to the inside of my nose, and I claw at it, trying to scrape it away. It won't go.

Memories drown my mind, and all I see is her dancing, her singing, her living, her breathing. A music box plays, a haunting and beautiful sound, and I see her, so happy, humming along to it

The lights in her eyes, by hell, they're so bright.

And now I look down and see… nothing.

I want her to wake up, I want her to smile. So I shake her gently, just a little bit at first, but then more violently as she refuses to breathe again. The blood runs into her hair, and flicks from it like a jerked paintbrush.

But she still doesn't wake up.

Why?

I grip her close then, locked in a tight embrace, and fight off anyone who tries to take her from me.

If I could, I would stay like this forever, guarding her body like a vigilant sentinel, allowing no-one to steal her body and bury her under the cold, thick earth where she would be consumed by vile creatures, until nothing but putrid remains were left.

But I can't do that.

Besides, it's her soul that's important, and that's already left. Gone, to exist in a better world for all of eternity.

Now, she really is an angel.

And I am all alone.