Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Although this a companion piece to my other fic "Loving Harry" It is NOT necessary to read it before reading this fic. Although, if you like this fic, reading the other one may be a good idea :)
Rating: PG-13
~
Hurting an Angel
When the world is too much, I can hear the wind cry, whistles and moans, it holds nothing back, and I in turn cry back to it, wishing and hoping, hating and begging, and always asking "Why?"
~
"I don't understand why it has to always be me." I sounded so selfish saying it, but it was true. Why did it have to be me? Wasn't it bad enough that I was an orphan who lived with monsters, not respectable enough to even be considered human. They were evil, from there disgusting exteriors, all the way to the black knives replacing their hearts.
And she was putting up with them for me. Hermione was. She had begged Dumbledore to let her come and stay with us for the summer, and he had let her. Probably because he was trying to clear his conscience. He practically let me kill Sir-...
She's wonderful. Really she is, but I don't give a damn. She can be as wonderful as ever. I'm gone. I don't care. I don't know how, it's too painful to care, and I've had enough pain.
I can tell she's watching me, giving me reluctant smiles when I give her a glance. I look away pretending I had not seen. I wish she would leave, and yet, I think I'd die without her here. It's when she tries to talk to me that it gets hard. She asks me a simple question like "How are you feeling?" and I want to curse her. How the hell does she THINK I'm feeling? An evil wizard is trying to kill me, no one understands, and the one person who I really looked up to is...
But other times, I don't want her to ever leave my side. She leans over the side of my bed (I had insisted she sleep on it, and that I'd take the floor) and says that she loves me, that Ron does too and that everything will work out, life goes on. And I get so mad at her, for reasons that I can't even figure out.
"Maybe I don't want it to go on," I say seriously not looking at her. I force my eyes to stare at the crack in the ceiling. I hear her sniffle, and her breathing is ragged, I know I should get up and comfort her I sit up, leaning my back against the side of the bed. But I can't make myself do it. Inside I can't help but think "Serves you right. Now you know, you mean nothing to me, so leave me the hell alone." But then she slides down next to me and lays her head on my chest and I entangle my fingers in her hair. And it's nice, good, perfect. Her body feels right against mine, it feels wonderful, beautiful. Her hands run up and down my chest, my sides, my back, and it makes me shiver. I can feel the moisture of her tears through my thin T-shirt and I can feel my own trail down my chin, but it's not tears of sadness, its just tears. Tears of feeling. So many feelings that I don't know what they all are.
Maybe there not feelings at all. Maybe I'm going mad, and my body is doing random things at random times. That's what my life is now. My body walking around randomly, separated from me. From what is left of me.
At the moment I don't care. All I care about is her body against mine. I slowly slide her so that she's lying on the floor and then entwine my body next to hers, whispering the whole time, I tell she's beautiful, and perfect, I ask why I can't love her, I ask if Sirius can hear me, I tell him I need his help, but it all sounds foreign and strange coming from my mouth, and Hermione doesn't seem to know I'm talking at all. Maybe I'm not.
When we wake in the morning, it is to the yells of my fucking relatives. They rip Hermione from my arms and call her a whore, scream it in her face, and throw her on to my bed. Dudley seethes with anger. I am kicked until I squirm and called a son-of-a-bitch. I will let them kick me till I die, I don't care, the only thing that makes me stand up is that the insult was to my father also.
I avoid Hermione all day. Ducking into different rooms when she enters the one I'm in. Suddenly deciding that I need to start up a different chore when she approaches me.
"I'm busy, I have to go mow the lawn,"
"I just wanted to talk-"
"We can talk later," I leave her standing there, her bottom lip trembling. I leave the room, and then lean against the shut door. I cringe at the sound of Dudley's nasty remarks. And then he starts hitting her. I can hear the blow, the gasp of pain, the whimpering, it makes me sick. Why do I let him do this to her? I imagine myself opening the door and saving her, but I can't make myself do it. I can always find another body to hold against mine. Cho maybe, she still seems fond of me, although she would infuriate me too much with her stupid crying.
My mind goes to Ginny, her thin body, her sing-sing voice. If she'd let me, I'd hold her against me for hours. She and Hermione are the only two girls in the whole world that don't totally drive me mad.
Ron would die if he knew how awful I've turned. The old me, would kill me. It doesn't help that Ron has been in love with Hermione since the moment we met her. But it doesn't matter. I don't need a best friend anymore. Just a girl's body, one that doesn't whine, one that doesn't hang on you all day if you don't want them to.
~
I sit alone, at the top of the staircase, she hobbles next to me, it is a day after her beating. She cringes rubbing her side, as she sits down. I feel like a monster, why don't I tell her I'm sorry? Why don't I let her know I care? Why don't I care? Her eyes stay on me for what seems like hours, and glance at her and offer her a smile, to make up for how awful I am.
It hurts to smile. It's so fake. I know she can tell it's fake.
"I'm sorry" I think, and then realize that I've said it out loud.
"For what?" She leans towards me, her lips soft and pink her movement rhythmic and beautiful.
"For Dumbledore making you stay here," I say. But it's not what I had meant. She seems slightly let down by the answer.
"I don't mind. I like being here with you," she replies, I can't peal my eyes from her face. Why does she have to act like this. Can't she see I don't love her? Can't she see that I just want to take advantage of her? Can't she see that it kills me that I can't love her, that I can't love anyone?
"Why do you try with me?" My voice thunders. She stares at me, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't care anymore. I don't want revenge, I don't want a regular life, I don't want anything. I don't care about anything anymore," I feel like I'm yelling, her lip trembles and I wonder what it would feel like against mine.
"I care about you," She whimpers her whole body shaking. I can't help it, I wrench her towards me, crushing her body against mine, letting my hands wander, trailing all over her.
"I can feel you against me, and physically, it's nice, but that's all. I can't feel anything..... Anything at all..." I explain. She shudders with tears and it feels wonderful, and at the same time awful. She pulls away from me standing and glaring at me.
"Hermione!" I call after her as she runs. I'm a horrible person. I want to be like I used to be. The hero Harry. The one who always had a smile, to give, the one who liked the soul, not the body. And I realize that I WANT to love. I want to love so bad that my ears a ringing.
"I want to be able to feel it! I want to! But I can't, all I feel is hurt... there isn't a light at the end of the tunnel, there is no hope!" I half shout, half cry racing after her. We end up in the back garden, sitting in the grass.
"I have hope for you," her she whispers as a drop of rain lands on my hand.
"Maybe someday I'll get that hope," I reply letting myself get showered with the raindrops, they seem to burn, each one, as they hit me, but it's almost a nice feeling. I slide closer to her watching the little crystals of water gleaming in her hair, sliding from one strand to another, making there way down to the ends, and dripping into the grass.
So intent on going down. I feel momentarily like I am one of those droplets of water. Except instead of going down, I'm intent on going forward. On getting past this, on being happy.
"But, now... I'm using you... I'm sorry, but-" I start
"I don't care," she says seriously, looking as me, our eyes connect for a second and I strive to find a feeling, but all that's there is confusion, I grab her, defeated and hold her against me, we lie back in the grass, her head resting on my chest, and it's nice. And I think maybe, just maybe, I'm feeling something, maybe I'm really feeling something.
~
When the world is too much, I pull her into my arms, and listen to our hearts beating together. I kiss her face with tears, and she understands. She whispers to the sky my fears, and the wind blows back a cry. And I feel him watching, I feel him telling me I have to keep trying. And I feel him in the wind, pushing me to those left that still love me. And I know that I am forgiven for his fate, and for that, I am happy.
~
Thanks for reading :)
Summary: Although this a companion piece to my other fic "Loving Harry" It is NOT necessary to read it before reading this fic. Although, if you like this fic, reading the other one may be a good idea :)
Rating: PG-13
~
Hurting an Angel
When the world is too much, I can hear the wind cry, whistles and moans, it holds nothing back, and I in turn cry back to it, wishing and hoping, hating and begging, and always asking "Why?"
~
"I don't understand why it has to always be me." I sounded so selfish saying it, but it was true. Why did it have to be me? Wasn't it bad enough that I was an orphan who lived with monsters, not respectable enough to even be considered human. They were evil, from there disgusting exteriors, all the way to the black knives replacing their hearts.
And she was putting up with them for me. Hermione was. She had begged Dumbledore to let her come and stay with us for the summer, and he had let her. Probably because he was trying to clear his conscience. He practically let me kill Sir-...
She's wonderful. Really she is, but I don't give a damn. She can be as wonderful as ever. I'm gone. I don't care. I don't know how, it's too painful to care, and I've had enough pain.
I can tell she's watching me, giving me reluctant smiles when I give her a glance. I look away pretending I had not seen. I wish she would leave, and yet, I think I'd die without her here. It's when she tries to talk to me that it gets hard. She asks me a simple question like "How are you feeling?" and I want to curse her. How the hell does she THINK I'm feeling? An evil wizard is trying to kill me, no one understands, and the one person who I really looked up to is...
But other times, I don't want her to ever leave my side. She leans over the side of my bed (I had insisted she sleep on it, and that I'd take the floor) and says that she loves me, that Ron does too and that everything will work out, life goes on. And I get so mad at her, for reasons that I can't even figure out.
"Maybe I don't want it to go on," I say seriously not looking at her. I force my eyes to stare at the crack in the ceiling. I hear her sniffle, and her breathing is ragged, I know I should get up and comfort her I sit up, leaning my back against the side of the bed. But I can't make myself do it. Inside I can't help but think "Serves you right. Now you know, you mean nothing to me, so leave me the hell alone." But then she slides down next to me and lays her head on my chest and I entangle my fingers in her hair. And it's nice, good, perfect. Her body feels right against mine, it feels wonderful, beautiful. Her hands run up and down my chest, my sides, my back, and it makes me shiver. I can feel the moisture of her tears through my thin T-shirt and I can feel my own trail down my chin, but it's not tears of sadness, its just tears. Tears of feeling. So many feelings that I don't know what they all are.
Maybe there not feelings at all. Maybe I'm going mad, and my body is doing random things at random times. That's what my life is now. My body walking around randomly, separated from me. From what is left of me.
At the moment I don't care. All I care about is her body against mine. I slowly slide her so that she's lying on the floor and then entwine my body next to hers, whispering the whole time, I tell she's beautiful, and perfect, I ask why I can't love her, I ask if Sirius can hear me, I tell him I need his help, but it all sounds foreign and strange coming from my mouth, and Hermione doesn't seem to know I'm talking at all. Maybe I'm not.
When we wake in the morning, it is to the yells of my fucking relatives. They rip Hermione from my arms and call her a whore, scream it in her face, and throw her on to my bed. Dudley seethes with anger. I am kicked until I squirm and called a son-of-a-bitch. I will let them kick me till I die, I don't care, the only thing that makes me stand up is that the insult was to my father also.
I avoid Hermione all day. Ducking into different rooms when she enters the one I'm in. Suddenly deciding that I need to start up a different chore when she approaches me.
"I'm busy, I have to go mow the lawn,"
"I just wanted to talk-"
"We can talk later," I leave her standing there, her bottom lip trembling. I leave the room, and then lean against the shut door. I cringe at the sound of Dudley's nasty remarks. And then he starts hitting her. I can hear the blow, the gasp of pain, the whimpering, it makes me sick. Why do I let him do this to her? I imagine myself opening the door and saving her, but I can't make myself do it. I can always find another body to hold against mine. Cho maybe, she still seems fond of me, although she would infuriate me too much with her stupid crying.
My mind goes to Ginny, her thin body, her sing-sing voice. If she'd let me, I'd hold her against me for hours. She and Hermione are the only two girls in the whole world that don't totally drive me mad.
Ron would die if he knew how awful I've turned. The old me, would kill me. It doesn't help that Ron has been in love with Hermione since the moment we met her. But it doesn't matter. I don't need a best friend anymore. Just a girl's body, one that doesn't whine, one that doesn't hang on you all day if you don't want them to.
~
I sit alone, at the top of the staircase, she hobbles next to me, it is a day after her beating. She cringes rubbing her side, as she sits down. I feel like a monster, why don't I tell her I'm sorry? Why don't I let her know I care? Why don't I care? Her eyes stay on me for what seems like hours, and glance at her and offer her a smile, to make up for how awful I am.
It hurts to smile. It's so fake. I know she can tell it's fake.
"I'm sorry" I think, and then realize that I've said it out loud.
"For what?" She leans towards me, her lips soft and pink her movement rhythmic and beautiful.
"For Dumbledore making you stay here," I say. But it's not what I had meant. She seems slightly let down by the answer.
"I don't mind. I like being here with you," she replies, I can't peal my eyes from her face. Why does she have to act like this. Can't she see I don't love her? Can't she see that I just want to take advantage of her? Can't she see that it kills me that I can't love her, that I can't love anyone?
"Why do you try with me?" My voice thunders. She stares at me, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't care anymore. I don't want revenge, I don't want a regular life, I don't want anything. I don't care about anything anymore," I feel like I'm yelling, her lip trembles and I wonder what it would feel like against mine.
"I care about you," She whimpers her whole body shaking. I can't help it, I wrench her towards me, crushing her body against mine, letting my hands wander, trailing all over her.
"I can feel you against me, and physically, it's nice, but that's all. I can't feel anything..... Anything at all..." I explain. She shudders with tears and it feels wonderful, and at the same time awful. She pulls away from me standing and glaring at me.
"Hermione!" I call after her as she runs. I'm a horrible person. I want to be like I used to be. The hero Harry. The one who always had a smile, to give, the one who liked the soul, not the body. And I realize that I WANT to love. I want to love so bad that my ears a ringing.
"I want to be able to feel it! I want to! But I can't, all I feel is hurt... there isn't a light at the end of the tunnel, there is no hope!" I half shout, half cry racing after her. We end up in the back garden, sitting in the grass.
"I have hope for you," her she whispers as a drop of rain lands on my hand.
"Maybe someday I'll get that hope," I reply letting myself get showered with the raindrops, they seem to burn, each one, as they hit me, but it's almost a nice feeling. I slide closer to her watching the little crystals of water gleaming in her hair, sliding from one strand to another, making there way down to the ends, and dripping into the grass.
So intent on going down. I feel momentarily like I am one of those droplets of water. Except instead of going down, I'm intent on going forward. On getting past this, on being happy.
"But, now... I'm using you... I'm sorry, but-" I start
"I don't care," she says seriously, looking as me, our eyes connect for a second and I strive to find a feeling, but all that's there is confusion, I grab her, defeated and hold her against me, we lie back in the grass, her head resting on my chest, and it's nice. And I think maybe, just maybe, I'm feeling something, maybe I'm really feeling something.
~
When the world is too much, I pull her into my arms, and listen to our hearts beating together. I kiss her face with tears, and she understands. She whispers to the sky my fears, and the wind blows back a cry. And I feel him watching, I feel him telling me I have to keep trying. And I feel him in the wind, pushing me to those left that still love me. And I know that I am forgiven for his fate, and for that, I am happy.
~
Thanks for reading :)