The Angels Never Sang

It's been so long since I've heard the angels sing that sometimes I think they never truly existed at all. The heavens above my head have been silent for years and I wouldn't be surprised if they stayed that way for an eternity. I don't suppose I deserve to hear their song--not after Tom.

Tom--even now, his name makes me nauseous. I don't even have to speak it anymore, just think it (Tom Marvolo Riddle) and my insides quiver with disgust and I hate myself a little more. It's been a long time, hasn't it Tom? And yet, you're still here, tormenting me...shaming me. And I'm still here, speaking to you in my mind, unable to bury you any deeper, unable to forget.

I was just a child, for Merlin's sake, Tom. I was innocent then, before you...and I've never been since. And you never really gave a damn! Did anyone? Did anyone see that I was distracted and confused? Did anyone notice that I was pleading for help? Did anyone fucking care?! No...no one...no one but you, Tom--and your words of advice and comfort were all lies...all of them...each one breaking my heart when the realization sank in. And the angels never sang me a song of comfort; they were too frightened of you.

The angels never sang when I thought I'd found my first true friendship--they knew things I'd yet to learn. It was you Tom. It was you who I told everything to...all my hopes and dreams and sadly, all my love. I am ashamed to think of all the things I divulged to you...all my wishes and desires. In the end, you made me feel so tainted and stained for my childish wants. I felt so dirty and it was then that I realized my innocence was truly lost; there was no turning back. I suppose the angels cried; we probably cried together.

I should have known you weren't who you said you were. Dad always told us not to trust anything when we can't see where it keeps its brain. But I wasn't too worried about that, was I? You told me exactly what I wanted to hear, and that was good enough for me.

I should have known better when our conversations became centered around Harry, the one person that has been able to put you in your rightful place. Your focus changed the moment I started telling you about him, and I should have known that you were going to cause trouble. I could feel that something was wrong, but was unable to do anything about it. You made me into something I'm not, and you tried to use it to your benefit. That's all I was to you, wasn't it? Nothing more than a puppet.

And so I joined the damned of the living, only dreaming of the light, never fully escaping the darkness you forced into my veins. Although the others never blamed me (they forgave me, even) my own guilt is enough for ten lifetimes. And, for that, I hate you even more. My obsessive hatred of you probably pushes the angels further away from me. Why would they want to sing for someone as impure as me? Look what you've done to me--some friend you were.

You were never my friend, you bastard. You used me for your own evil plan--you wanted The Boy Who Lived. And I was the one who led you right to him. I shall never be forgiven for that. Of all the things I've done in my life, that is the one I am most ashamed of. And that will probably be the reason the angels never sing for me.