Title: Dancing with Angels
Author: Yeziel Moore
Fandom: HP-SPN
Characters: Harry, archangel Raphael.
Rating: K+
Warnings: Implied child-abuse.
Summary: Harry had a little help.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, to an extent.
Words: 1027.

AN: Don't read this expecting a coherent and long story. It's not. These are going to be one-shots, some leaning more towards drabbles, and others will look like plot-bunnies. The only thing in common between them are the angels. Besides that, I'm giving myself free reign.

Rating, warnings and summaries are specific for each chapter, if you don't read them and found something you don't like then don't come crying to me. I'm gonna laugh at you.

If any of you is interested in expanding the bunny farm, you're welcome as long as you tell me. I wanna know and read it :)

Ideas are welcome too. Just so you know.

1. Healer.

This time Harry knew he wouldn't make it. He had been hurt many times in the past, more times than any child of eight years of age had any right to claim. But now, as he laid in the bloodied cot that was his bed, inside the cupboard under the stairs that was his bedroom, Harry understood that this time was final and that there wouldn't be a next day to cook breakfast, go to school or do his chores. There wouldn't be another beating, or yelling or another peaceful walk in the park. He didn't know whether to feel relieved or upset. He did feel the urge to cry but didn't give into it. He wasn't a little kid anymore, he may be only eight but he was broken, small and dying. He had no innocence left to spare, he had no more tears to shed. So no, he was most definitely not a kid.

He supposed it didn't matter anyway. His breath was labored and shallow at best and his heartbeats were getting slower faster and faster, and didn't that sound funny? He thought so.

His eyes, so green and at another time -life maybe- so full of life, were dull and full of pain just shy of agony. They were open still and he was staring at the endless darkness that had always been there, embracing him, comforting him. This time, however, he gained no comfort in his little pocket of nothingness, his eyes may've been open but he was not seeing. He was a blind man -child- drowning under too much pressure. That's how his chest felt like anyway, as if an elephant had stomped all over him.

Well, Vernon could be considered an elephant if you had enough imagination and looked at the picture with an eye covered, so yeah, it was accurate enough for Harry.

Everything was fading at the edges of his senses when, suddenly, it stopped. Sort of. Harry blinked dry eyes, unsure of where the pain had gone to or if maybe -finally- he had died. He was no masochist so he really hoped it was the latter and nor a trick of his mind. His hopes were dashed when a bright light came to life in front of his already aching eyes, which didn't help any, mind you. The light grew so bright that he had to close his eyes least he blinded himself for stupidly looking onto the sun that had, apparently, taken residence in his cramped cupboard.

A sun that was accompanied by the sharp explosion of a thousand thunders and the soothing sound of rushing water.

He had no time to ponder those oddities before he felt an electrifying touch on his forehead. From that point warmth like the first rays of the sun in the morning filled him, chasing away seven years of pain and abuse.

If this was Heaven then Harry didn't want to wake up.

It wasn't, unfortunately. All too soon the warmth receded, although it didn't leave him, not completely. The light started to fade in the same way but before it left Harry's thin hand shot forwards without his consent. The boy had no idea that lights could stiffen until then, or that they were softer than silk to the touch. He blinked in surprise before deciding that it wasn't important.

Fearlessly he lifted his head and fixed his intense gaze on the other, much more intense and intimidating, gaze, although he couldn't see eyes anywhere. Weird. He blinked once more.

"Thank you angel," Harry whispered dully but with an undercurrent of gratitude that wasn't lost on the higher being. The child's hand fell limply to his side.

Raphael considered the child in front of him, the one he had been watching for the past eight years in relative peace when not occupied somewhere else with his more important duties. Raphael disliked humans in general, hated them even, after all the pain their short and pathetic existences had caused for his beloved family. He didn't understand them either, which meant that he was curious about them, if only because he was a scholar and for the sake of knowledge. Truth was they were as much of a mystery to him as his brethren was to them. But, in Raphael's opinion, this little human took the cake. For whatever reason Raphael simply couldn't wrap his thousands-of-years-old head around this one insignificant creature.

He couldn't even fathom the reason that pushed him to heal the boy, except that he was a healer and heal others was kind of his job, duh. Still, that wasn't the real reason. If only he knew what was.

"Don't let it happen again," said the archangel in a voice much colder and harsh than he intended. Not that he had any idea of what he had intended to say or how.

In spite of this, Harry smiled at him. It was a sad and tired smile, the kind of smile that the archangel expected to see in his older brother face not in a child's -barely a cherub in comparison- face. It made his chest ache in a way that no human had managed to inspire since Lucifer's downfall.

"Goodbye, angel."

A flare of light and a sound like thunder later and Harry was alone again. Truly alone. The presence that now he wouldn't forget no matter what, was nowhere near the Number Four of Privet Drive. The little wizard -even if he, himself, had no idea of that fact- was not offended by what could be considered a very abrupt meeting and a less than polite dismissal. What reasons could he have to be upset? His family called him freak, monster and abomination and, even though he knew that those were lies, the fact that his own family hated him so much spoke louder than a thousand insults. He was unwanted and a burden. The angel probably had been ordered to help him or something. It didn't matter. Harry was grateful for the respite, reasons aside.

For the first time in years Harry slept through the night.

He dreamt about thunder and rain.