ANGEL

LADY SHINIGAMI

DISCLAIMER: DUH.

CHAPTER 1

I don't know why I was watching him. It started more than a year ago, close to two years, and it started rather innocently. Really. I wanted to know everything there was about him, especially his weaknesses. What made him vulnerable? I wanted to know that, therefore involving a great deal of observation, naturally.

All I wanted was to know what made him weak, vulnerable. Really! He has undeniable strength, a strength that has continued to defy me at every turn, and I know that I could never win against his strength, but maybe I could destroy him with his weaknesses.

Then, my interest in him began to change. The hate faded away gradually; not even I realized it, nor do I know when it started. I never realized.

Until that fateful day three days ago, when I received my wings, flying to save his life, a life I had previously wanted to destroy.

But I digress. I watched him since his godfather's death, and I have since punished Bella for that. I watched as his disgusting relatives abused him, and I watched as he entered his sixth year. That year, last year, I didn't attack; I was too busy watching him, watching for anything I could use. But, you know, the weakness I did find only made him that much more stronger, and more human, and I believe he is the one who truly deserves these wings... well, his mother deserves wings, and sometimes, I can feel her presence around the boy and I can feel the soft, beautiful wings as they brush lightly against my soul.

Maybe that's why I've changed.

I watched him as he interacted with his friends, watched as he fought with the young Malfoy boy. That always made me smile; he seems so normal then, so young, like he is.
I watched him during Quidditch practice, watched as he began his training, watched as he flourished and thrived under the pressure, and I watched him grieve for those he couldn't save. Those I killed.

I regret it all now, now that I now the truth, but I truly thought, through my misguided vision that I was doing the right thing, at least in the beginning, that I was in the right. Then I went on a power trip and was corrupted, which is what happens with power. That's why your Minister is so incompetent.

I watched him constantly, no longer out of hate, and I hid when he sensed me nearby. He was always quick to reassure his friends, never allowing them to worry about him. I grew to admire that, among a great many other things about him.

He is beautiful, isn't he? His soul has such a brilliant aura to it, pure and gentle, strong. His soul glows with a beautiful green glow, identical to his eyes.

He truly does deserve these wings of mine. These wings I can't explain. The human body cannot support wings, and would have to be completely redesigned to allow for the muscles needed to support wings, magical or otherwise. Also, the human body is far too heavy for wings to support.

I watched him finish his sixth year, again watched as he was abused. The abuse made ME cringe, but he seemed to grow stronger because of it. It amazed me that he could grow in such an environment, that he gained strength in the fact that he is only human, and still be able to accomplish the impossible. I would have drowned in despair in his position... no, wait... I did drown, losing sight of myself in the process.

I watched, the silent observer, as he entered his seventh and final year, and I knew I had to act, but I chose not to. My followers have overthrown me for my lack of action, although it hasn't been revealed to the public yet.

As attacks against the public increased, and he started to actively fight in the war, I came to realize that I desperately wanted to fight by his side, if only to keep him alive. I wanted him to live.

He has continued to sense my presence, and has since grown accustomed to me. Or rather, I'd like to believe that.

You know, I nearly revealed myself several times this year, but I didn't. One particular occasion comes to mind, the day that is now known as the Christmas Massacre. The streets of downtown London were silent that night... at least until the fighting started. He had been summoned to the front lines, alongside Aurors twice his age. The Deatheaters had attacked an orphanage, which struck a nerve with me.

My angel, as I had come to call him, was immediately infuriated as he listened to the cries of agonized children, and with everything he had, and all of his power and strength, he went Berserk, barreling through enemy lines as he raced for the children. Another example of the kindness that lived within his beautiful soul.

As you well know, Dumbledore, all the children died. My angel grieved, holding onto the body of a four-year-old girl amidst the snow and debris, for long after the battle was over. Twenty-seven young children died that night, and my angel mourned them all in the darkness of Christmas morning.

He was the perfect soldier, your perfect weapon, for days after that, and for that, I hate you. He was emotionless, until he once again put up the mask, and in those days I wanted to do anything to make him happy, to see his smile, but of course, I couldn't. I couldn't dare to reveal myself.

But three days ago, I couldn't stay in the shadows; I couldn't remain the silent observer. Three days ago, during the dangerously stormy Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, never did like the game personally, but my little Gryffindor was struck down by two things; a rogue Bludger, barreling into my angel just as he won the game, taking his breath away and breaking a few ribs, and he was struck by a large bolt of lightning that flashed through the sky not even a moment after he took that Bludger to the chest. This bolt was large enough and deadly enough to kill a normal wizard, but not my little Gryffindor.

He fell, unconscious, with everyone in shock as to what had just happened right before their eyes. I sprang into action, shouting his name as I jumped out from my hiding place beneath the teachers' stands, realizing in that moment that I would gladly die for him, and

I remember pain as my wings tore through flesh and fabric, new muscles working naturally, as though I had always had wings.

Speaking of which, would one of you please heal the wounds already? I AM still bleeding, after a good three days, and I know that none of you are sadistic enough to let me die from blood loss. I am starting to feel a little light-headed. Besides, only he has the right to kill me.

Anyway, my appearance shocked you into action, Dumbledore, but by then, he was already in my arms, safe from death. I don't think he recognized me at first, but when he did, he didn't lash out as I had expected. He seemed to... relax, I think. It seemed that, for just a moment, he trusted me completely with his life. Maybe it was just my imagination. I don't know.

You have said, again and again, old man, that because I do not know love, love will destroy me. In a way, you are right. My hatred and thirst for destruction was destroyed by the love that I now feel for him.

So now, you are left with an overthrown Dark Lord with white wings, who is in love with his enemy. What are you going to do?

Do you think he will wish to see me? To question me and my actions? He must be confused greatly. You are confused as well, despite what I've just told you.

I want to keep him safe. I want him to live. I want him to laugh, to cry, to love, to hate. So long as he is happy, I will be happy. If he wishes my death, then my life I will gladly give.

I want to see him. My little Gryffindor, my angel. My love, my salvation. I am his, and I wish for him to be mine. Has he recovered? Is he awake?

No, you wouldn't answer me. You probably hope to be rid of me without me seeing him. He won't panic. He won't break. I've watched him, so I know he is strong.

I think you've forgotten that, Dumbledore. He is stronger than you and you know it.

I love him. I want to hold him in my arms, like I did three days ago. I want to be there for him, and protect him. Even he needs to be protected every now and then, and his relatives don't count.

My angel will want to know what's going on; no, he'll demand to know, and it is within his right, since I did save his life. He will not accept 'no' for an answer.

And when he does see me, to gain some answers, I will tell him the truth, just as I have told you. I will not deny him anything.

I love him. I am truly in love with my angel, my Gryffindor, and I could never hurt him.

Who, exactly, do I love with all my heart? You ask this stupid question for the record, of course. Very well, then.

I, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, am in love with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

My only love from my only hate.

Consequences be damned.