Somber

Chapter 52: The Cambion.

Dedicated to @Breaking-Midnight :)

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Chapter 52: The Cambion.

Harry's POV

| England, 1985 |

He ignored the twinge of guilt in his stomach and smiled his most brilliant full-teeth smile.

"If you give me a chance, you will find that I am very easy to trust," he drew the words out in the type of tone that girls found charming. It was working that way as well. The blue-eyed blonde was blinking slower by the heartbeat, her mind slowly, but easily, giving in to his power; falling under his spell. He never had to try hard, not particularly. His 'charms' did most of the job, all he had to do was talk... sometimes a glance was all it took. It depended solely on the mental strength of the victim. Some were weaker than others, and vice versa. But they all ended up trapped in the end. There was never a different outcome.

"Very easy to trust," she said. Her voice was monotone, merely repeating what she had heard before his magic did its thing.

"Exactly," he said quietly. She was completely under his power. He could see it in the vacant look in her eyes. He felt no satisfaction at the deed, but he knew there were people watching him. They always were. Wherever he went, they followed. There was not a second of the day when he was truly alone. He was sick of it. He couldn't take it anymore. He knew what he was. He was his father's son, after all. But he detested his ability. He thought of it as his own personal curse.

People didn't see it that way. They thought that he enjoyed being what he was. But how could he? How could he love being such a despicable creature? How could he enjoy turning poor unsuspecting women into his slaves? It was an atrocious thing to do, to rip someone of their freedom and free will. Harry felt ill at the sole thought of it.

He tried doing right by what he was. He tried to stay away from anyone that could be turned into a victim. In other words, he kept to himself most of the time. He had no family and no friends. Who could ever be friends with someone like him? There was no trusting what he was. So he was always "alone". With no one to help him through his dark times. With no one to tell him, that he would be alright. And that's what he yearned the most, for he had no mother and his father was no father at all. Affection or mere understanding from another person, is all he ever wished for. A friend. Someone who would look at him, and see more than the demon that he was born to be. The demon he was growing to become.

He had wanted to be different. To defy the own laws of nature. To fight against his own self, and be exactly what people hadn't expected him to be. But it didn't work. People hated him even more for trying. They called him a hypocrite and turned his fist on him. They'd hit him till their hearts content, then the'd leave him, laying on the dark alley, bloodied and beat up, for no one to find. It went like that for a long time, and then Harry gave up. He decided to give them what they wished to see.

In other words, if they wanted a monster, then a monster they shall get.

With that one last thought, he rested his hand on the girl's hip and with this, guided her closer to him. The girl called no protest, just looked up at him with an empty expression. Harry continued to ignore the sickening feeling in his stomach, and leaned down to her, closing the distance between his mouth and her throat.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, in the supposedly privacy of the small bathroom.

There was no response from the girl, which was to be expected. Harry kissed skin from the girl's neck, and he felt her sigh at the contact. He kissed a little higher, on her jaw and felt her hands grab at his arms, clinging to him. When his mouth found her lips, at the faintest touch, her knees buckled and then gave out under her. Harry's arm wrapped around her waist, just in time to keep her from falling.

"You're so weak already," he murmured against her skin. A small moan slipped past her mouth. Even though she was already losing strength and life, she clung to him and kissed him right back. So Harry continued to kiss her dispassionately, while her life fueled his entire being.

"You'll kill her if you don't stop," a stranger's voice said.

Harry made no move to stop what he was doing.

"I know that's not what you want," the voice persisted.

Harry made an irritated noise with his throat, but silently thankful, put a bit of distance between himself and the girl. He still held her, for he knew she wasn't capable of standing up in her own without his help.

He turned his head to look at who was in the bathroom with them.

The man's face was serious, not a trace of humor in the lines around his mouth or the ones around his eyes. His skin was a dark tan, that was highlighted by his dark colored clothes. But none of that mattered. His eyes, a golden color, almost shimmering with perception, pierced him with not judgment, like Harry had expected, but pity. This man felt sorry for him.

"Thank you," he said. Harry felt at a loss. Why was he thanking him?

"For stopping," the man added. It was almost if he had read Harry's thoughts.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"A friend," the man said, after a brief hesitation.

"I don't have any friends," Harry replied wistfully.

The stranger smiled, and his smile was honest.

"Well you do now," was all he said.

Harry was confused. He couldn't wrap his head around what was happenning.

"I'm Harry," he said, "and I'm a Cambion" he added, hoping to talk some sense into the nice, but clearly naive stranger.

The stranger's smile widened.

"I know what you are. And it means nothing to me. We are not born how we are meant to be. We choose who we want to be. So tell me Harry, who are you?"

Harry was again at a loss. He glanced around the small bathroom. Then at the poor girl in his arms. She looked so fragile and weak. His guilt burned inside of him, like a bright flame.

"Not this," he said softly. "I don't want to be this".

"Then don't be," the man said. "Don't let others designate who you're supposed to be. Show them who you are in your heart".

Something was moving inside of Harry. Something small and frail, not guilt. No. It was a sliver of hope.

"Who are you?" Harry asked again.

There was a brief silence as the man studied Harry. His eyes saw him, all of him. Even what Harry tried to hide.

"I'm Head of the Council for the supernatural community" he began saying. "But you, my friend, can call me Zayn".

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A/N: So there's that. Didn't exactly turn out how I wanted it. But most things I write never do anyways so whatever. Hope you enjoyed it anyways. I love you guys. Take care and stay awesome.

Liz.x