In the Arms of an Angel, Chapter 2
The punk nearly hissed at him, “Leave him alone! This is none of your business. I’m in charge here, and I’ll handle this.” He glared menacingly at Harry, who ignored him. They were soon joined by a man with blonde hair who began pleading with the poster boy for malcontent. The tall man nearly backhanded him, saying, “If we take him to the hospital, Stephen, there will be questions.”
Stephen pleaded, “He’s going to die, Zane, if he doesn’t get treated soon. I can’t believe you let him go off with them…” Then, as he realized that Harry’s arms were elbow deep in blood, he paled considerably. “Oh, god, oh god,” he began to mutter uncontrollably, trembling. He wrapped his arms around his upper body, and moaned, “The blood. The blood. Oh, god.”
Harry assured him, “I’ve unfortunately seen my share of blood. I’m not going to faint.” He wasn’t sure which he wanted to do more, comfort Stephen or hex Zane, but he certainly felt himself begin to lean towards the latter.
Zane growled, “Hold it together, Stephen. You’re making a fool of yourself, and attracting attention.” He glanced warily around them at the spectators, who stayed a discreet distance away, neither offering to help nor inclined to leave them in peace.
Harry grimaced, and said, “Look, if you’re only going to keep making him nervous or get in my way, then could you please commandeer us a vehicle or something so that we can get Nathaniel to the hospital?”
Zane looked as if he was about to get in Harry’s face, but something that he must have seen in his eyes made him back down. Grudgingly, he stalked off, saying, “Great. Whatever.”
As Zane left, the blond rubbed his arms to stem his nervousness. To Harry, he said quietly, “Aren’t you afraid?” He indicated the nearly healed bruises and scrapes on Harry’s face.
Harry did not understand at first what he was worried about, but then he got it. The friend must be referring to the transmission of the AIDS virus. In for a penny, in for a pound… he’d already been exposed. Harry said, firmly, “I’ll take my chances. I’m not worried about catching anything. I’m more worried about keeping him alive.”
A look of relief and adoration filled his delicate features. He touched Harry’s shoulder tentatively in thanks. Then he began to pace back and forth like a caged tiger. He began talking to himself, “What about the others? They’re going to find out. Oh, god. I shouldn’t have left him alone. He’s not like the others… he can’t fight back.”
As Zane finally arrived in a beat up pickup truck, Harry heard the man whisper, “I’m so sorry, Nathaniel.” He insisted on riding in the bed with the obviously shaken man, since if it had been Ron or Hermione, Harry would have been an emotional wreck as well. He sensed that the man needed some support and to keep talking. He was able to convince Zane to allow him to accompany them to the hospital. As the boy’s condition stabilized, Harry was able to glean some information from Stephen, who appeared to have stepped off of the cover of some rock magazine. His long hair reminded Harry of the heavy metal bands that he had caught glimpses of on the Dursleys’ television when Dudley was watching music videos. Streaks of mascara dotted Stephen’s face as if he was a jaguar, and his wary eyes further enhanced the comparison.
Stephen admitted that it was a common enough occurrence for Nathaniel to leave with strange men and that he tried to stop him. He left out the fact that it was Zane who had helped to chain Nathaniel up for the sick bastards that did this to him. When Harry began to grumble about pressing charges against his attackers, Stephen sadly shook his head. “You don’t understand. Nathaniel is very submissive. He would not have said no to them. He would not have fought back. To the cops, it would just be a case of a little rough sex that got out of hand. They look down on people like us.”
Stephen said this nonchalantly, as if it was to be expected. Harry, on the other hand, was quite flustered. For one thing, although he knew that some men were gay, he had never seriously thought about what they might do in private. Also, the thought that someone could justify using what should be a pleasurable act as a weapon was an alien concept to him. He tried not to think about the odd injuries that he had noticed and not understood until now. “Hang on, so you are telling me that a bunch of strangers brutally attacked your boyfriend, and the police will not help you?” he asked, outraged.
Stephen blushed profusely, “He’s not… we’re more like family. My brother and I try to look out for him, you know, keep him safe. We’re all he’s got. You wouldn’t understand.” He began to wring his hands in front of him, no doubt worried about his friend’s condition. Harry could understand, and told him so. After all, his friends had become his family. When Stephen looked away and began to fidget again, he touched the man’s shoulder, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
“Stephen, I’m not implying anything, okay? I don’t care if you both are shagging like bunnies; it still does not give them the right to attack someone for being different. Now, come over here and keep Nathaniel warm. His fingers are like ice. I’m going to have a word with our driver.” Harry was slightly surprised when Stephen pressed himself up against Nathaniel, but it seemed a much simpler solution than to continuously cast a warming charm on the threadbare sheet. Much more of that and Harry would be ill-equipped to handle events should they require magic. Harry knocked on the window which separated him from Zane, and asked the driver how much longer it would be until they reached the hospital.
The driver gave him a curious look, and said, “We’re already there. See for yourself.” As Harry climbed down carefully from the truck, favoring his injured leg, he looked up to see an impressive medical building towering above him. Zane helped Stephen shift the injured man into Harry’s arms, and then without a word, sped off into the night. Harry managed to limp with Nathaniel in his arms towards the emergency room door, but only made it a few feet before collapsing. Then he was startled when a medical team rushed to his side and tried to get him onto a gurney. He yelled out, “Hey! I’m alright! Help him.”
One of them paused to apologize, “It’s just that you’re both drenched in blood." As the rest of the emergency personnel began to assess Nathaniel's injuries and wheel him away through the emergency room doors, a second paramedic turned to Harry. "Are you the one who found him?” she asked, and then dragged him off for questioning before he could get away from them.
Stephen pleaded, “He’s going to die, Zane, if he doesn’t get treated soon. I can’t believe you let him go off with them…” Then, as he realized that Harry’s arms were elbow deep in blood, he paled considerably. “Oh, god, oh god,” he began to mutter uncontrollably, trembling. He wrapped his arms around his upper body, and moaned, “The blood. The blood. Oh, god.”
Harry assured him, “I’ve unfortunately seen my share of blood. I’m not going to faint.” He wasn’t sure which he wanted to do more, comfort Stephen or hex Zane, but he certainly felt himself begin to lean towards the latter.
Zane growled, “Hold it together, Stephen. You’re making a fool of yourself, and attracting attention.” He glanced warily around them at the spectators, who stayed a discreet distance away, neither offering to help nor inclined to leave them in peace.
Harry grimaced, and said, “Look, if you’re only going to keep making him nervous or get in my way, then could you please commandeer us a vehicle or something so that we can get Nathaniel to the hospital?”
Zane looked as if he was about to get in Harry’s face, but something that he must have seen in his eyes made him back down. Grudgingly, he stalked off, saying, “Great. Whatever.”
As Zane left, the blond rubbed his arms to stem his nervousness. To Harry, he said quietly, “Aren’t you afraid?” He indicated the nearly healed bruises and scrapes on Harry’s face.
Harry did not understand at first what he was worried about, but then he got it. The friend must be referring to the transmission of the AIDS virus. In for a penny, in for a pound… he’d already been exposed. Harry said, firmly, “I’ll take my chances. I’m not worried about catching anything. I’m more worried about keeping him alive.”
A look of relief and adoration filled his delicate features. He touched Harry’s shoulder tentatively in thanks. Then he began to pace back and forth like a caged tiger. He began talking to himself, “What about the others? They’re going to find out. Oh, god. I shouldn’t have left him alone. He’s not like the others… he can’t fight back.”
As Zane finally arrived in a beat up pickup truck, Harry heard the man whisper, “I’m so sorry, Nathaniel.” He insisted on riding in the bed with the obviously shaken man, since if it had been Ron or Hermione, Harry would have been an emotional wreck as well. He sensed that the man needed some support and to keep talking. He was able to convince Zane to allow him to accompany them to the hospital. As the boy’s condition stabilized, Harry was able to glean some information from Stephen, who appeared to have stepped off of the cover of some rock magazine. His long hair reminded Harry of the heavy metal bands that he had caught glimpses of on the Dursleys’ television when Dudley was watching music videos. Streaks of mascara dotted Stephen’s face as if he was a jaguar, and his wary eyes further enhanced the comparison.
Stephen admitted that it was a common enough occurrence for Nathaniel to leave with strange men and that he tried to stop him. He left out the fact that it was Zane who had helped to chain Nathaniel up for the sick bastards that did this to him. When Harry began to grumble about pressing charges against his attackers, Stephen sadly shook his head. “You don’t understand. Nathaniel is very submissive. He would not have said no to them. He would not have fought back. To the cops, it would just be a case of a little rough sex that got out of hand. They look down on people like us.”
Stephen said this nonchalantly, as if it was to be expected. Harry, on the other hand, was quite flustered. For one thing, although he knew that some men were gay, he had never seriously thought about what they might do in private. Also, the thought that someone could justify using what should be a pleasurable act as a weapon was an alien concept to him. He tried not to think about the odd injuries that he had noticed and not understood until now. “Hang on, so you are telling me that a bunch of strangers brutally attacked your boyfriend, and the police will not help you?” he asked, outraged.
Stephen blushed profusely, “He’s not… we’re more like family. My brother and I try to look out for him, you know, keep him safe. We’re all he’s got. You wouldn’t understand.” He began to wring his hands in front of him, no doubt worried about his friend’s condition. Harry could understand, and told him so. After all, his friends had become his family. When Stephen looked away and began to fidget again, he touched the man’s shoulder, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
“Stephen, I’m not implying anything, okay? I don’t care if you both are shagging like bunnies; it still does not give them the right to attack someone for being different. Now, come over here and keep Nathaniel warm. His fingers are like ice. I’m going to have a word with our driver.” Harry was slightly surprised when Stephen pressed himself up against Nathaniel, but it seemed a much simpler solution than to continuously cast a warming charm on the threadbare sheet. Much more of that and Harry would be ill-equipped to handle events should they require magic. Harry knocked on the window which separated him from Zane, and asked the driver how much longer it would be until they reached the hospital.
The driver gave him a curious look, and said, “We’re already there. See for yourself.” As Harry climbed down carefully from the truck, favoring his injured leg, he looked up to see an impressive medical building towering above him. Zane helped Stephen shift the injured man into Harry’s arms, and then without a word, sped off into the night. Harry managed to limp with Nathaniel in his arms towards the emergency room door, but only made it a few feet before collapsing. Then he was startled when a medical team rushed to his side and tried to get him onto a gurney. He yelled out, “Hey! I’m alright! Help him.”
One of them paused to apologize, “It’s just that you’re both drenched in blood." As the rest of the emergency personnel began to assess Nathaniel's injuries and wheel him away through the emergency room doors, a second paramedic turned to Harry. "Are you the one who found him?” she asked, and then dragged him off for questioning before he could get away from them.