The days of Aziraphale
By: Atticus J. Finch
Warnings: Abuse, Slash
Disclaimer: Own-age by J.K.R, N. Gaiman, and T. Pratchett.
Chapter 1: The leaving
It was four a.m. on a Monday morning and the sun had yet to rise over the quiet suburban street. The only sound was the song of a morning dove which flowed through the windows of the slumbering residents. The entire town was blissfully unaware of the oncoming day, as was the young boy sleeping lightly in a cupboard under the stairs of a house on Number 4 Privet Drive.
Large green eyes slowly blinked open, tiny fists balled and the six-year-old boy stretched as far as he could in the cramped space of his 'bedroom'. His small mouth opened wide to let a yawn escape before blinking his eyes quickly as they watered. He had thick black hair that stood straight up in a tangled mess, thick black glasses that would be plucked off the floor, and a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead.
The boy was also covered in quite a startling array of bruises. He winced, remembering the night before with his uncle. Sighing tiredly, the boy lay back down on the moth eaten cot and waited to hear the slow tread of feet that would arrive in an hour and a half.
They came as usual, though he wished fervently every morning that some sort of change would occur to save him from this hellish torture. As the sound reached the bottom of the stairs, the cupboard was thrown open and the face of a horse-like woman peered in with annoyance.
"Get up you lazy scoundrel and make breakfast. You'd better make it right this time, or else!" His Aunt Petunia's loud, screechy voice echoed eerily inside the cupboard and yet ironically didn't seem to wake anyone else up. Her voice quieted then to an almost sickly sweet tone. "It's Dudder's first day at grade school and I want everything to be perfect for my big first grader."
She walked into the obsessively clean kitchen and the boy followed timidly before he scampered away to make breakfast. Less than an hour later an overweight man sat down at the table and was handed his breakfast plate, coffee, and the morning's newspaper by the boy, who received a scowl for his trouble. As the boy looked out the window he noticed that the quickly dawning sun was partly covered by a thick, squalled rain cloud. He smiled grimly at the fact that the weather reflected his mood.
Petunia left to wake her slumbering son and Vernon glared at the boy in detest. His aunt returned with his cousin in tow, pouting ferociously. The boy was extremely overweight for his age, though his gluttony was excused a 'big boned'. He had fine blond hair that was plastered to his large, round head and beady blue eyes sunk deep above puffy cheeks.
"Good morning, Dudley." The man said cheerfully forgetting about the smaller boy who had just handed his son his breakfast.
The rest of the morning was filled with small talk, complaints about the weather, and snarls directed towards the silent green-eyed boy. But the young boy was eventually allowed to leave for school, walking briskly to avoid the oncoming rain. When he arrived, his cousin Dudley was already there having been dropped off by his mother.
The school looked rather intimidating, especially to a first grader. It looked almost like a jail. It was grey and white, but since the white was so faded it was like grey too. The widows had small medal rods, so no one could break in. All the doors were steel and you had to go through medal detectors once you walk in. Harry's classroom was on the first floor of the two-floored building. He walked in the classroom with a rising dread that just increased when he saw Dudley and a group of boys in the back of the class. Dudley sneered at him and Harry looked down and made his way to the farthest point away form them.
The teacher, a young brown haired woman named Mrs. Miesner, seemed nice enough and began the day by giving each child a name tag. The teacher seemed worried about the boy, whose name tag read Harry Potter. He was quiet and shy but that was not what worried her the most; he had a black eye and seemed to limp like his right leg was hurt. She shook her head, put it out of her mind, and continued with the class till the end of the day. The last thing she need was to lose her job because some kid had a limp. For all she knew he could have been hit with a baseball and be faking the rest for attention.
IVI
The rain fell hard and fast and lightning flashed dangerously close but still the young Harry Potter was in no hurry. He didn't seem to notice at all. Instead of heading towards the home he was allowed to stay in, Harry went over to the park and sat inside the huge banyan tree that sat tiredly on the crest of the hill. Still tired from the stressful morning and late night, combined with the dull thud of the rain and the lingering aches from his last beating, he was gently lulled to sleep.
Harry rolled over in his unconsciousness when he felt something sharp poking his side. Assuming that it was his cousin attempting to wake him up, he opened his eyes to the painful light from a nearby streetlamp that glowed yellow in the evening. He quickly closed them when the strain began to be too much. He tried opening his eyes slowly this time and was meet with the face of a boy around his age.
The boy had dirty blond hair, dark sapphire eyes that gleamed from the light of the street lamps. He had a round face but it didn't seem to really have any fat on it. He had a small button nose with freckles lightly sprinkle across it. He looked to have a slight build. Small muscles lined his arms and legs and probably his lean stomach. He was taller then Harry by about four inches, therefore he towered over the small boy. A small sweet smile graced the boy's lips.
"Now, what would a boy like you be doing in a tree like this at this time of night?" The boy's voice sounded like music as he took a graceful step backward....and unfortunately landed with a loud splash into a huge puddle of muddy water that had collected at the base of the tree.
'So much for being graceful to go along with that voice', Harry thought with a wide smirk. Harry popped his head out of the tree only to see the boy still sitting in the mud scowling. He held out a hand to help the boy up, which was gratefully taken. The boy stood shivering in the evening summer air. "Well?" He repeated.
"I guess I fell asleep here." Harry replied a thoughtful look crossing his face before a look of pure terror took its place. He jumped out of the tree and into the mud and began to run, fearing the worst from his uncle.
"Wait a minute!" The boy shouted grabbing Harry's arm. "I'm Aziraphale, but my friends call me Azi. What's the rush...?" He paused for minute to look at Harry's slightly damp name tag. "Harry?"
Harry was about to answer when he remembered something his uncle told him.
Flashback
A four year old Harry sat crouched in the corner crying and trying to hide from his abusive uncle after a particularly bad beating. His uncle towered over him, blanketing Harry with his shadow.
"Listen boy," His uncle whispered dangerously. "If I hear that you just let one word of this slip, you won't be able to walk for the rest of your life. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!?" he roared in warning. And even after two years Harry still understood the truth in that threat.
End Flashback
Harry looked back at Aziraphale. "My uncle doesn't like it when I disobey him." He whispered, turning a shameful gaze to the ground. He felt a hand under his chin. Harry lifted his head and looked into those captivating blue eyes. Aziraphale small hand reached out and gently touched Harry's black eye, making him wince.
"It'll get better," Azi said, "just give it time. I'll see you around." He shrugged at the look of disbelief on Harry's face before he walked away muttering to himself. Harry thought he heard the music-like voice whisper, "Lord, what fools these mortals be," but didn't ponder on it as he realized that he was wasting precious time. The later he was, the more he would hurt tomorrow.
IVI
It was tomorrow and he hurting. Nine o'clock p.m. That's what the clock said after he was drug into the house after coming home. While he was lying in bed that night, struggling in vain not to breathe deeply, he wondered what Azi had been doing in the park alone as well.
That morning as he walked to school, not only was he sore but he also had the unfortunate luck to have come down with a cold and accompanying fever from being out in the rain. The weather no longer reflected his mood, because it was one of the rare times that the sun shined during the summer, and to be truthful he felt as cold as the rain had last night.
When he saw the school he let out a small shutter. The two-story, square-like, grey cement building only brought terrible memories back to life. He walked down the halls with his head down, avoiding all the happy laughing students until he found himself in front of a steel door. He slowly opened the door and sat at the desk in the front of the room since Dudley usually sat in the back. He looked at the top of the desk as the room started to spin around him. The noise of the other student pounded in his ears. Harry grabbed his head in an attempt to calm down and felt bile rise in his throat. He looked at the ground and he couldn't hold it any longer. He puked all over the ground. Many comments of 'eww!' and 'gross!' echoed through the room.
Mrs. Miesner was just coming out of the storage room when she heard the uproar. She looked around till her eyes landed on the small Potter boy. He was leaning over in the desk and had sweat covering his pale forehead and if that wasn't enough evidence at who had caused the uproar, then the bile covering the floor would have sealed his fate. She made her way over to the boy, who looked like he was crying. She gently took his arm and escorted him to the nurses office, knowing that when she got back in her classroom she would have to deal with either all the other kids throwing up too or having class outside for the rest of the day and doing that with first graders, is not the best idea.
IVI
Harry now sat in the nurse's office trying to cover up the bruises on his arms with his long sleeves while his teacher talked to the nurse. The nurse walked in after the teacher had left, she looked at Harry with a small smile. She got a thermometer, a cool glass of water, and some children's Tylenol. She got Harry's temperature first, 102.8, and then made Harry take the Tylenol and wash it down with the water. She phone the boy's aunt and uncle and chatted for a little bit. She knew both Petunia and Vernon Dursley because their son was in there enough on his own. When she was done on the phone she took a good look at the boy. The one thing that really caught her attention was the bruises that came out on his hand from his arm. Some were yellow while others were a dark purple.
Harry was really nervous. He knew that lady knew both his aunt and uncle and she was looking at him very carefully. Harry almost started crying again when she told him to take off his shirt. Harry stood and slowly lifted of the ugly grey shirt, his front facing the nurse. The nurse didn't know why she gasped at the collection of bruises. Big and rounded and small and thin, all range in various colors and age, it didn't matter because she was expecting them but she herself had never witnessed the result of child abuse. She told the boy to put his shirt back on. No, she couldn't risk her job or the humiliation. The Dursleys were very generous when it came to donations to the school, not only that but they were sort of like family friends. If she got on the Dursleys bad side, she would be on a lot of important people's bad side.
About ten minutes later, Harry was pulling up on the Dursley's driveway. Aunt Petunia hadn't said a word since she picked him up. He was really happy that nurse lady hadn't said anything to his aunt. Who knows what would have happened to him. They might have sent him to an orphanage! Harry had heard lots of terrible things about orphanages. Not really in detail, just how they were far worse then what went on at his house. Aunt Petunia walked quickly up the driveway and to the front door. She walked in the house and slammed the door. Harry heard the faint sound of the lock being forced shut from his position on the driveway. "Be back in time to make dinner." His aunt stage whispered out of the window after a second or two, probably trying to keep the neighbors at bay.
Harry headed back to the park, not really knowing what else to do. He climbed back into the hole in the Banyan tree and collapsed. Salty tears made tracks down his tired face before he roughly wiped the slickness away. He glanced out of the tree only to see a light blond haired girl whom he guessed was approximately fifteen years old throwing an American baseball to a boy that looked oddly like....Aziraphale.
The boy looked his way and laughed. "Harry!" He shouted running toward him. When he could see Harry clearly though, he slowed to a walk and shocked look on his face. Aziraphale halted, clearly surprised to see the worn looking boy curled up tightly in his hole, but abruptly broke into a sprint when Harry toppled from his precarious perch, vomit spilling from his grimaced lips. The boy passed out face down in the mud after tossing up the contents in his stomach, and Azi's breath caught in his throat, fear making his mouth go dry. The blond haired girl had watched the scene without expression, until the young boy slid into unconsciousness.
She moved quickly to kneel beside her brother as she looked over the tiny, bruised body. "What happened?" She asked, worry showing in her dark blue eyes that were so similar to Aziraphale's.
"His uncle, that's what," Azi answered angrily, turning the boy over carefully despite his furious tone. She didn't question how her brother knew this because he always had a strange way of knowing things. "We should take him to mother; she'll make sure he's okay. We just have to have him back at his house by six," he sighed. She nodded, looking at her watch.
"It's eleven now," she said quietly. "That gives us seven hours." The siblings looked at each other and Azi grabbed both Harry's and his sisters wrists before he closed his eyes and all three of them disappeared.
They arrived on the cold stone floor of the huge Spencer estate. Blood seeped on to the floor from Harry's reopened wounds.
"Alexia, go get mom, fast!" Aziraphale yelled.
"No need to now." A musical voice not unlike Azi's sounded. A tall woman in a white flowing dress walked gracefully down one of the marble staircases. She had light blond hair like Alexia's, violet eyes, and Aziraphale's freckles. She walked quicker as she noticed the black haired boy and the red blood against the white marble.
"What happened to him?" she hissed, her violet eyes shining in anger.
"Azi said it was his uncle." Alexia said, stealing a glance at her six-year-old brother. When his mother looked at him, he nodded his agreement, worry still etched on his young features. His mother lifted the small, bleeding boy into her arms and carried him into a room that looked like a mix between a science lab and an operating room. Azi pulled up a chair to his newly found friend's side and held his hand as his mother set him on a metal table.
"What's the boys name Aziraphale?" his mother asked while filling a shot with a clear liquid.
"Harry," her son answered in a whisper.
"I am giving him a sedative to help me sleep," she said softly as she readied a syringe with a painkiller and inserted it firmly into Harry's left arm. "Leave me. Inform your father and sisters that we'll be having a guest for a while."
Azi looked hopeful. "He'll be okay?" When his mother nodded, he grinned widely in relief. "How long will he stay?" His grin turned wider with his mothers answer.
"As long as you and I can keep him here. Now go."
IVI
Harry awoke to the best feeling in the world. For once his body wasn't sore and he was in a huge bed with a thick, buoyant mattress full of goose-down feathers. But that wasn't all; long, talented fingers rubbed his back in a deep tissue massage. Harry moaned at the sensation and snuggled farther into the pillow.
"Shhh." A soft feminine voice soothed. "Just go back to sleep. You need rest." And Harry did just that, listening to the soft humming of the unknown goddesses' voice.
Hey everyone, longer and more improved first chapter up!!
Peace,
A.J.