Disclaimer: The character names belong to J.K. Rowling.
Pairing: Severus/Harry.
Rating: R
Warning: Alternate Universe! Wing!fic. Non-Canon Magic. Not-Innocent Harry. OOC-Snape.
Summary: When an angel falls to the lowest low.
Author:Spirit
Author's note: For those of you who do read it, I am so very sorry about 'The Cinderman's Kiss'. I know what I want to write but I can't seem to write it. For anyone else who doesn't care, this is the last of the pre-written chapters of AiC. There are two more to go. Let's hope this doesn't take me four months to update too.
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ANGEL IN CHARCOAL
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It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall. I am he who knew what it was to be evil.
Crossing Broolyn Ferry by Walt Whitman
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"You are created special. Perfect. Innocent."
Those are the first words that Harry ever remembers hearing. He remembers staring into the light that was more than just light, as he tried to see the face of the figure that sat on the throne. He remembers smiling at the smile on his creator's face. He remembers the trust that he had no reason to question at that time. And he remembers the intense, overpowering sense of love that washed over him. He remembers thinking that he was safe.
"These are your parents. Your protectors."
That was the second thing he was told. He had automatically assumed that this meant he would always be protected. So when he turned to face James and Lily Potter, it was with a smile on his face. When he was embraced by them, it was without a single doubt that he was created as a gift to them and so he promised himself that he would be their special, perfect, innocent gift for eternity.
"We will always love you Harry. Wherever you wander, you will always have us in your heart."
He had believed those words; his mother's words. He had believed in the warmth of her embrace, in the smile on his father's face, in the feelings of security that he had when he walked by their sides.
Why wouldn't he have believed in them?
He had nothing to fear while he was wrapped in their arms with the feathers of white wings tickling his face as he snuggled into their embrace. Nor when he was laughing into the pure air while running, running, running through fields and fields of grass and sunflowers, having them shout his name while they too laughed. He was free and happy when he spun around in snow that was never too cold or danced in rain that was never too wet. He was the beloved of heaven. He was created purely from love and it was all he knew as he was immersed in it. He revelled in it. Love defined him.
He never saw the eyes that watched him so much that sometimes they would become dark, dark, midnight black. He never heard the whispers. He never felt the seed of jealousy spread and take root. Never. The dark eyes watched him from afar and though he didn't know it, they too kept him safe and hidden from the spreading discord.
When he fell asleep in the snow as white covered in a blanket of white, he never knew that always sitting beside him would be one other being who had sworn, even before Harry was born, to protect him. Nor did he feel the fingers that ruffled his hair as light wind ruffled the strands when he lay in the fields of grass. And he never felt the shadow fall over him, nor hear the words exchanged above his tired form when his father reluctantly moved his head from the comfort of where it had fallen when Harry drifted to sleep. His father would give up his seat to this other angel, while his mother lightly traced the nubs and planes of ankles and toes on the feet that she cradled in her lap as a means of always being connected to him.
As an angel, Harry Potter never knew Severus Snape as anyone other than merely another ange,l and that was how Severus wanted it to be.
And then hell broke loose.
Harry could have lived for eternity and know that for eternity he would never forgot what it felt like to be a fallen angel. He would never forget the heat of fire and brimstone raining down from a sky that was always black. It was a place where there was no light, but for the fire that burned; no sound except for the screaming souls of the damned and the laughter of a thousand fallen angels as wings ripped its way out from the curves of their spines. Black feathers made up great black wings as each demon preened; oblivious of anyone else and lost in vanity and greed.
His tears fell like diamonds from his face, falling onto the hot embers that made up the ground and sizzling as he crawled on his hands and knees, afraid to rise, afraid that soon he too would feel new wings rip their way out of where his beautiful white ones had once rested reassuringly. Afraid and alone. His palms blistered. His knees burned. His tears kept falling. Weaving in and out, between legs and over bodies, he forgot the turns he took as soon as he took them. It was endless. The dark places felt darker than any darkness he had ever experienced before. The fire burned hotter than any fire he had ever seen. The pain was unbearable.
Still, he was being protected; kept safe. Though he did not know it, he was being allowed to escape.
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"I never knew it was possible to still feel anything."
"Be grateful for the fact that you do. It took me a while after I began to live here, before I felt anything or saw anything or cared."
Harry snuggled into the embrace as strong arms carried him. He tightened his arms around the thin neck, behind the curtain of black hair and was grateful that he was not given the chance to use his legs. His body felt broken. Every limb hurt like he had been crushed by something heavy. He hung, mostly limp, if it were not for the man that cradled him and distracted him from the pain. Harry rested his head upon the shoulder that was before him, then he inhaled the scent of Severus Snape. And he knew, like he knew his own name and history that he had always known when Snape was near. That Snape had always been near him, somehow. Even in his darkest moments Harry realized that Snape had been a constant presence.
"Tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Everything. Anything. Tell me why you fell. Tell me why you kept me safe. Tell me about the last thing you remember about there. Tell me about my parents."
"Why?"
There were no wings now, neither black nor white. There was no laughter to drown out their words. No light. No dark. No heaven. No hell. No mistakes and regrets or deliberation and choice.
Harry sighed softly into the limp strands of black hair and he hid his exhaustive tears against the pale column of Snape's neck. "I don't know. Because I'm tired. I want to know. Because I asked you nicely. I want to be told the truth for once and I know you won't lie."
His body seemed to sink into the cotton sheets and wool blankets as he was lowered onto a bed that he recognized to not be his own. He felt cold out of the arms that had held him. Mostly he just felt tired.
"Before you were created, before the uprising, before there was a difference between darkness and light, I gave my word to always keep you safe."
"You said yourself that I was nothing special."
Dark eyes turned to Harry. They were cold and emotionless, but Harry could read them like a book. The gaze transferred to the rest of Harry's face, before a tentative hand reached out to stroke his face.
"You are special to me." A single finger traced the curve of Harry's lip.
"Am I?"
"Yes," spoken softly but nowhere near gently. "Now go to sleep."
Harry raised his head, silently daring Snape to oppose. Then he did what he did best and without room for refusal he joined his lips to Severus'. Tasting. Sucking. Moaning. His entire body began to tingle as if there was electricity being pumped through him. Each tingle began to burn until he felt like he was on fire. He whimpered, unwilling to stop but knowing that he should.
Severus's eyes were bottomless pits of black with no white when they met Harry's again.
"Go to sleep," he said in the same way that he had said the words before.
Harry could only nod once, before he collapsed back onto the bed into an unconscious slumber.
X-x-X
tbc