ANGEL

LADY SHINIGAMI

DISCLAIMER: DUH.

CHAPTER 2

On the other side of the castle from where the winged Dark Lord was being held in the prison tower, Harry was healing from the lightning shock. He hadn't woken up once since his enemy had saved him and had allowed himself to be captured by the professors.

Slowly, Harry opened his emerald eyes, blinking at his fuzzy-looking surroundings. Despite his blurry vision, though, he immediately recognized that he was in the Infirmary.

He blinked, confused, before everything rushed back as he remembered the Quidditch game. A bolt of lightning, excruciating pain, strong arms holding him, white wings, a handsome face framed by black hair, a gentle, loving smile, and crimson serpentine eyes. He remembered whispered words, softly spoken in the sexiest baritone he'd ever heard, soothing, calming, and loving.

But how could Voldemort, the greatest Dark Lord of the century, know anything about love, let alone showing emotions even remotely resembling love?

Something wasn't adding up.

Slowly, Harry reached for the side table he knew was there, reaching for his glasses as he started planning his escape from the Hospital wing. He figured he wasn't in too much pain, and he desperately needed some answers.

On alert for Madame Pompfrey, or anyone else for that matter, Harry got out of the hospital bed and quickly found his school robes, all folded neatly at the edge of the bed. Changing into his robes, he grabbed his bag from beside the bed and left the Infirmary.
Removing the Marauders' Map from his bag, he used it to avoid everyone in his path as he searched for the Dark Lord, including Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to deal with them now. He'd talk to them later, if need be.

Scanning the Map, he quickly located his enemy, and was faintly surprised to see that the Mao identified the Dark Lord as 'Tom Riddle' rather than 'Voldemort', although, it did make sense. He did note that Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were also in the tower cell with Voldemort. No doubt trying to interrogate the Dark Lord.

Resolutely, he continued his way to the prison tower, taking every short cut he could find, not allowing himself to hesitate. He knew that if he allowed himself to hesitate even in the slightest, he would falter and run.

Reaching the closed door of the cell, Harry paused for just a moment, hearing Voldemort's voice through the wood of the oak door.

"... Ask me this stupid question for the record, of course. Very well, then. I, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, am in love with Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived. My only love from my only hate. Consequences be damned." Then there was silence in the cell.

Harry stood in front of the door, frozen in place as his mind tried to process the new information. Voldemort loved him? Voldemort loved him? A small part of his mind told him that it did make sense, actually.

But how could that be? How had it happened? What had changed? Harry's mind reeled, and he steeled himself before knocking on the closed door, hiding the Map and taking out his wand.

Dumbledore opened the door almost immediately, startled to see Harry there. He blocked the rest of the room from Harry's sight, resting an old hand on the younger wizard's shoulder.

"Harry, what are you doing here? Has Madame Pompfrey cleared you from the Hospital Wing yet? You're shaking, Harry; go back." The old Headmaster tried to steer Harry away from the cell, but the Gryffindor shook away the once-friendly hand from his shoulder.

"No. I have questions, and there's only one wizard who could answer those questions. Where is he?"

Dumbledore seemed taken aback at the coldness in Harry's voice, but Harry didn't care. The old wizard recovered his composure quickly.

"Harry, you still aren't well."

"Old fool, let him see me if he wishes to. I am still under the effects of Veritaserum and that strong calming drought of Severus'. I can prattle on in truth with ease! Besides, I have said before that I wish to see him. I mean him no harm; I couldn't, even if I wanted to. He is safe with me." Voldemort's voice drifted to Harry's ears from behind Dumbledore.

Harry pushed past Dumbledore and avoided the stares of his other professors, focusing his gaze on the tall figure in the dark corner of the cell, hands chained to the stonewall. His face was concealed by the shadows, but Harry would have recognized him anyhow. Red, serpentine eyes glinted fiercely. The smell of blood was thick in the air. Harry could faintly see the white wings drooping down behind his toned body. The older wizard's black long-sleeved shirt was in shreds, and feathers, blood-covered, were scattered idly at his feet.

"You're still hurt, aren't you?"

"Yes, little Gryffindor. I am still hurt. You are confused."

"Yes."

"You wish to talk. Alone."

"Yes."
"You heard him, Dumbledore. This is his right. I will not deny him."

Dumbledore stared at Harry's back for several minutes before stalking from the cell. McGonagall followed and Snape closed the door on his way out, leaving the two wizards in darkness.

"Lumos."

The light from Harry's wand illuminated the cell. Neither wizard wanted to break the silence that settled between them, but as Voldemort continued to watch Harry, the younger wizard realized something.

"I recognize you. You've been close to me for a long time. You were there, a comforting presence when I needed one. How long?"

"Since your godfather died. In the beginning, my intentions and reasons were different. I wanted to hurt you. Now, my only wish is to protect you. I want you to live. I want you to love. I want to protect you when no one else is able to. You know that there is a very fine line between hate and love. I have crossed this line and I can never go back. What are you going to do about this?" Voldemort's voice was low, full of hidden emotions. His eyes nearly glowed with longing.

Harry ignored his question. "How did this happen? The wings, and your appearance? Why did you save me?"

"You know the answer to that question, little one. As to your other questions; I don't know why I, of all people, have the wings of an angel. You deserve them. Your mother already has her wings. I can see her, sometimes. She's always by your side, giving her support. But, as to my appearance, this is what I look like naturally. My snake face is just a partial Animagus transformation." With a pain-filled sigh, Voldemort leaned back against the wall, grimacing.

Harry came closer, lighting a few candles as he knelt down beside the older wizard. He reached out, hesitantly, fingertips ghosting across Voldemort's shoulder. "You're still hurt."

Voldemort glanced at him. "Do you wish to heal my wounds?"

"Yes." Harry's response was immediate.

The older wizard smiled briefly, nodded and leaned forward, wincing at Harry's soft gasp. "It's not entirely as bad as it looks."

"You're still bleeding! Hold still a moment." A whispered healing spell closed up the torn skin around the wings' base, and a cleaning charm washed away the red blood. The Dark Lord sighed in relief.

"Thank you, little one. Now, what do you wish to do with me? I will gladly give my life if that is what you wish." Harry shook his head.

"No."

One long slender black eyebrow arched in response. "No? Then what is your wish?"

It was then that Dumbledore returned to the cell, four Aurors following behind him briskly. With an irritated sigh, Harry stood from his position beside Voldemort, eyes flashing. The Aurors spread out in the small cell, wands pointed at the Dark Lord, glaring hatefully as they did so.

"Harry, step aside. Voldemort will receive the Dementor's Kiss immediately after the Ministry Aurors escort him from the castle in chains. He will be as good as dead. You will be free of him. Now move aside." Dumbledore's tone spoke of a demand, and there was no twinkle in his blue eyes.

Harry frowned. "I want to be free of you. You've manipulated my life for so long that I've forgotten I had one. No longer. I claim him as mine. He will be my responsibility. I will deal with the consequences," he looked down at the winged wizard, meeting the serpentine gaze. "He has been my guardian angel for close to two years now. I will deal with him."

Dumbledore's face tightened slightly in anger. The Aurors glanced at one another uneasily at the fierce defiance in Harry's eyes. Voldemort stood slowly, hands up in a passive surrender, his chains clinking slightly.

"Harry..."

"No, sir. I claim him. He is now my responsibility. End of discussion." Harry released Voldemort from his chains with his wand and without another word; they left the cell and the prison tower, leaving Dumbledore and the Aurors alone.

"The Minister is going to blow a screw loose when he hears about this," One of the Aurors said. The others agreed silently.

---

"This is how this is going to work; you will remain with me at all times. You will keep any negative comments to yourself, and you will remain like a shadow, completely out of the way. You will obey everything I say, until I deem it otherwise. It would be the safest route for both of us. However, this is more for you sake than mine. Things will be unsettled for a while, obviously, and I would rather avoid any riots and such. Do you understand?" Harry asked as he led Voldemort through the castle to Gryffindor Tower.

"Yes, little Gryffindor. I understand completely."

"Good. You and I will be spending a great deal of time together, in which you will be explaining to me why you saved my life until I understand. Also, when I go into battle, you will be there. And yes, I knew a few months ago that you were no longer leading the Deatheaters." Harry didn't look back once at the Dark Lord following him silently, and he couldn't help but feel comforted by the winged wizard's presence at his back.

"Thank you. I don't deserve your kindness, but thank you nonetheless."

Harry shook his head. "No, you don't deserve it." He led Voldemort to the Gryffindor common room, reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, just as Ron and Hermione did. Both of them seemed extremely agitated and worried.

"Harry! What are you doing out of the Hospital Wing? Madame Pompfrey will have your head the next time she sees you!" Hermione cried, scolding Harry in her usual manner.

"Harry, who's this?" Ron's quiet question cut Hermione's lecture short. The brilliant witch paused and stared at Voldemort, as though seeing him for the first time. Harry smiled ruefully.

"Meet Voldemort, Dark Lord, and my guardian angel." He said quietly, waiting for their reactions.

Hermione fainted. Ron blinked and backed away slowly, until he met a wall, his eyes never leaving the Dark Lord.

"They took that rather well, little Gryffindor." Voldemort said quietly.

"They did. Ron, it's okay. He's completely harmless. Trust me."

""Harry, you're crazy. This is the bloody Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake! He murdered your parents! And what about the prophecy?" Ron's voice was hoarse from fear as he spoke. "You're supposed to kill him."

"Who cares about that stupid prophecy? How the hell do I know that Dumbledore didn't make it up and stage the whole thing? He's certainly capable of it! And, Voldemort could have killed any number of times since Sirius's death! He could have killed me at Christmas, but he didn't. He has been silently protecting me since Sirius died, or sometime around that time. He is my responsibility now; if you don't like it, then deal with it." Harry sighed and led Voldemort into the common room and up to the Head Boy's room.

"You will make a lot of enemies because of me, little one." Voldemort said quietly after watching as Harry fumed for a good twenty minutes at the window.

"I know."

"I will be there for you, if you wish."

"I'd like that, actually."

Voldemort smiled gently. "You truly are remarkable."

"I don't want to be."

"I don't understand."

"No, you wouldn't," Harry turned away from the window, moving to recline on the large bed. "I will never live the shadows, mostly because of you. I want to be normal, Voldemort, but that could never happen."

Voldemort sat down beside Harry on the bed, wings rustling. "You are an extraordinary wizard, regardless of anything I have done in the past. You would still be great, regardless of the past. You are still a great wizard, simply because of who you are in your heart."

Harry looked at him, a small frown wrinkling his bow. "That... actually makes sense. But I still hate it."

"I know."

"How could you know?"

"In my school years, I was much like you. Grindewald was waging war through the wizarding world, and I was the weapon Dumbledore was molding for his purposes, but I was already too jaded, and I went Dark." Voldemort said, looking away from the younger wizard. Harry stared at the Dark Lord, curious.

"And yet, you have the wings of an angel." He said. Voldemort nodded.

"Yes. That I cannot explain. Maybe, you are my redemption. Not that I deserve redemption, but I now have a second chance, and I will not waste it." Voldemort said quietly.

"That's very wise of you. It will be difficult, you understand."
"Yes, but that does not matters so long as you are content. I will do anything to see you happy."

"Why?" Harry had to ask.

"Because I love you, little Gryffindor. It does not matter to me whether the feelings are returned, just so long as you are happy. I love you and you will just have to deal with that." Voldemort said, meeting Harry's gaze fully, never shying away.

Harry looked away first, eyes clouded over with his silent thoughts. "This is too strange. The only love I can remember is my mother's love, and just barely that. Goodnight." He sighed and turned over, blowing out the candle facing him.

Voldemort smiled in the darkness. "Goodnight, Harry. We will talk again soon, and I will explain all I know." He stood from his place on the bed and sat down across the room, leaning against the wall. His wings settled and ruffled, wrapping themselves cleanly around his shoulders, and he settled into a peaceful sleep.