this chapter is a filler that consists of some character development. well, if that's what you want to call it.
In the darkest depths of Hell, where the screams grew louder and the blood became thicker stood a fierce demon, controlling the tortured and teeth covered mutants. Green eyes lightened in the scorching flames, nothing but pure hatred fueled his actions, insanity in his mind and disgust in his heart. Harry watched the belittled souls cry in joy, the jaws of the once mortals melted as they begged.
As all this happened in Harry's vision, he couldn't help but think of the sweet blond angel probably curled up in his bed right now. He scrunched his eyes together tightly, washing the thought away instantaneously as he focused on the task at hand. His fists tightened around the blood dripping whip, striking the flesh covered souls that pathetically attempted to escape.
Harry's demented acts continued feverishly, gouging out the eyes of the damned, ripping out their tongues if their hysteria got too annoying for him to endure.
Everyday this happened, for thousands of years. He was rightfully chosen to be the controller of Limbo by Satan himself. Harry's only seen the entity once. Once surely being enough; being in the presence of the devil is indescribable, but it made Harry the most powerful demon in Hell.
With a malevolent look in his emerald eyes, he was chthonic, purely infernal from that day on.
Snapping out of his rage filled daze, he suddenly remembered the main importance; getting the angel back into Heaven, preferably safely. The one old soul who lingered about who could possibly help him was Hermione, as he mentioned before to the angel. Where she was, he had no clue. The difficult part would be locating her whereabouts.
This naive, gullible angel was interfering with every bit of Harry duties, the time that was going to be consumed was frankly, quite troubling. But it had to be done, it shall be done. Then, things will go back to normal.
Grasping the whip in his torn hands, he continued tearing the flesh of the guilty. Lonely, and forever full of hate, but nonetheless, determined.
† † †
When Draco awoke from his slumber, feeling quite energized and strangely content, he hastily realized the eery quietness in the room, which was signaling that Harry was nowhere to be found.
By now, curiosity wasn't a good look on him, but it didn't stop him from climbing out of the bed and venturing out the door gracefully on his tip toes. After all, this place alone was uncharted territory and Harry strictly told him to not leave, which he would happily oblige to. He didn't dare to wander outside of these walls alone.
Instead, he walked down the staircase, pupils blown wide at the significant difference between his home in Heaven and this one. Finally being able to get a decent look at the place, he was noticing more than weapons that hung along the wall. His soft fingertips ran across the bent wood that was forcefully made into the wall, a sign of pure aggression, something Draco had never witnessed in his life. Alongside that were blood splotches, putting two and two together, it was quite clear something violent went down in this house.
Moving on, Draco cautiously stepped away from the main area and stumbled down a wide corridor, seeing less and less decor as rooms passed, none peaking his interest. Harry didn't seem to appreciate the small things in life, the beauty in even the most horrid things. Draco was displeased, until the final door on his right appeared to be shockingly fascinating. The door itself was wide open, and Draco's pearl eyes gazed upon himself. As the room was entirely filled in with mirrors.
Draco stood in awe, taking the tiniest of steps into the small squared room. His heart was racing in his chest, it could be heard in his own eardrums. This was the first proper time the angel actually laid eyes upon his own ethereal body.
In Heaven, appearance was nothing. All physical features were glorified and nobody had the torturous object such as a mirror.
Breathing shallowly, he softly arose his hand and pressed it against the glass that was clear as day, all of his features and flaws sparkled. This must've been the cleanest object he's seen so far in his detour of Hell, and the angel didn't know what to make of it.
Staring at his face, Draco let his eyes wander, analyzing each small detail God graciously gave him. The pinkish plump of his bottom lip, the pristine high cheek bones, and the tiny freckle just below his right eye. His hair that was slightly tasseled from sleep, and his shoulders that slumped a bit forward.
Draco stepped back, taking the entirety of his body. The first thing he saw was his magnificent wings. He's always seen them, but not like this. This is a different perspective, and the way the golden ombré on the tips were shimmering in the glass was enough to make Draco lift the corner of his lip. To say the least, he was satisfied with the way he looked. He found himself be... pulchritudinous. The thought of finding himself even somewhat pretty made him sick to his stomach.
"I'm not supposed to," be whispered amongst himself, fluttering his wings to a close. He wanted to close his eyes and walk out of the room, but he couldn't stop staring at himself. This room was enough to make someone mad. Perhaps that's why Harry had it to begin with.
The angel was beginning to understand why mortals were obsessed with physical attraction. Looking at himself made him feel all different types of ways, no wonder Pride was one of the seven deadly sins. Draco could picture himself using his physical body to his advantage.
"Wrong... This is wrong. Forgive me," the boy mumbled, turning each different way he could, but everywhere there was mirrors. The door was to the right of him, all he had to do was step out, but the only urge he was receiving was the gaze at himself more.
"Forgive you?" A booming voice interrupted Draco's trance. The petite angel was alerted and he jumped, whipping his head to the right to see the looming figure of Harry in the entrance way. "Forgive you for liking the way you look? Or hating the way you look?"
Draco barley caught the words, still quite startled by Harry's sudden appearance. The demon must stop randomly appearing, at times it's helpful and other times it's genuinely frightening. When he collected himself, he adverted both of his ocean eyes back towards himself in dull mirror. Too caught up in the way he looked to feel scared.
"Liking," Draco replied, feeling ashamed of the words that were coming out of his mouth. "You mean there's some who dislike their appearance?"
Harry stepped in, walking up behind the vulnerable angel, his body reflecting off the mirror, but only merely paying attention to Draco. "Of course."
Draco shyly shook his head, "I- I don't understand. I also don't understand why you have such a room. It's, It's repulsive!"
"That's the purpose," Harry maneuvered his hands around Draco's hipbones, hearing the blond's breath take a sturdy halt for a second. The demon leaned down, capturing eye contact with Draco within the mirror. "You see, when people are locked in a room where they can only look at themselves, it causes distortion, eventually madness."
"You hurt people with themselves?" Draco caught on, tensing up when the taller man leaned down to whisper a simple, bone chilling yes in his ear. "That's evil."
"Well, I suppose it kind of is," Harry chuckled, finding his willpower diminishing as the time ticked. His hands gently grasped the angel's waist, they seemed to fit perfectly and when it was time to release, he couldn't seem to be able to.
Draco peered down at the demon, his vision seeing the color red splattered all across Harry's hands. His own, pale arms were firmly placed on either side of his torso, but tenderly he lifted them until his fingers danced along Harry's blood-covered knuckles.
"You said you liked what you see, hm? Do you think you are pretty?" The deep voice created goosebumps to appear on the nape of Draco's neck, and the hair on his arms to slightly rise.
"I find myself to be perfect, just like the way God intended."
That response only made Harry scoff, "Is that so? Well, I think everyone in Hell can agree with me when I say you are very gorgeous."
The word peaked Draco's interest, he couldn't tell if Harry was just luring him in, but he didn't stop. The angel swiftly turned around in the hands of Harry, no longer looking at himself in the mirror, but glaring wondrously into the eyes of the most damned being.
Draco's mind was swarmed with fuzziness. He didn't care if anyone else thought his pretty, it only mattered to him if Harry thought he was. And the demon did in fact believe that. And there it was, Pride.
All of his morals were crumbling into tiny, unfixable pieces. All of his teachings in Heaven seemed pointless to him now because his heart fluttered every time he was complimented, practically by the Devil himself.
"You think I'm pretty?" The angel twisted his fingers with Harry's, feeling the dryness of the blood on rough, calloused palms. Yet, he felt unafraid.
"I do."
Draco hummed in satisfaction, scrutinizing the man before him, letting the emotions flow properly throughout his system, feeling similar things like he did when he first laid eyes on the infamous being.
"I think you're pretty too."
Harry was caught off guard, but he refused to let it show. Therefore, he perked an eyebrow, raising a sinister smirk. "Yeah? What's pretty about me?"
"Your eyes," Draco began without hesitation, and continued on, "Your hair, it's curly— pretty. I think your hands are pretty, even covered in blood; your chest and all the scars it carries. I know you're a malicious, diabolical person, but why are the most evil things the prettiest?" He ended, questioning Harry with the most innocent voice, entrancing his thinking.
"I could kill you," was Harry's only returning statement, saying it with all of his corrupted conscience, staring feverishly into the young one's.
"You could, but you won't. You haven't."
Draco reached to touch Harry's cheek, not only deciding to use his good looks for an advantage for the first time, but also to admire the demon up close. In a room full of mirrors, he was feeling two of the seven sins at once— and it was like ecstasy. "You could've just killed me and been on with yourself, why haven't you?"
Harry allowed Draco to touch his face, looking down into the shining orbs that showed nothing but vulnerability. "Because killing an angel in Hell would cause an uproar."
Pale fingers went from Harry's jawline, tracing the tanned skin upwards towards his cheeks, gently caressing them without a care in the world. He could only imagine what his mother and father would be thinking of about him in this current situation. Oh, the adrenaline.
"That's not the only reason," the angel stated, releasing a hot breath of air from between peach colored lips. This boost of confidence was unknown, but Draco was weirdly wanting to do what he had done earlier in Harry's room, but with Harry instead. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Draco's stomach, and he wanted to conquer it.
This only angered Harry more. He could sense the passion to reappear and he fucking hated it, absolutely despised it, but why was Draco the only one able to make him feel such a hideous way? The demon growled, taking his hands that were still placed on the boy's hips and harshly backed him up into the mirrors, enraged. The tiny gasp that emitted from Draco's lips when he collided with the back wall made Harry even more frustrated.
"Listen, I'm going to get you back into Heaven one way or another. I'm not killing you, but I starting to regret my decision on not doing such. You're going back. Soon."
Draco trembled slightly underneath Harry's strong hold, but he was still bold enough to mutter out some words. "What if I don't want to go back? Not just yet. There's so much more to learn!" He whined, biting the inside of his cheek in anticipation, wanting Harry to loosen his grip just a tiny bit so there'd be less pain. He still wasn't quite used to pain, but apparently pain is consistent down here in the Underworld.
"The thing that I did upstairs earlier, the thing that is our little secret... Could- could you teach me more about it?"
Harry didn't take a second as he seriously said, "No." His eyes unmoving off of Draco's now disappointed look.
The angel's wings lowered, still a bit smothered by the wall, but it was unbothering. "But, it made me feel happy. It feel good, and I want to feel it again," he admitted, unsure that Harry would possibly agree.
"No. You're going back to Heaven, that's that."
Draco visibly frowned this time, taking Harry's hand off his waist, feeling too pressured against the wall. When he was free from the tight hold, he felt... able to leave. He didn't want to leave, not just the room, but Hell in general. The thought of returning to Heaven was more saddening than he originally planned. He wanted to go home at first, but with Harry, he had the desire to stay.
"We need to go back to Blaise and find Hermione, she'll help us. It's a start to get you back home, without any chaos. I have enough of that already."
Draco gazed down at his feet, pouting to himself as he headed back towards the entrance, ready to leave this unnerving room that made him feel such shameful, yet exhilarating things. "Enough chaos? I don't have any of it."
Harry followed behind, the anger that was once stored inside, vanished completely. "Not scared of me anymore it seems."
Draco shook his head, gliding his way back down the wide corridor in which he found adventures in. "Terrified, but at the same time, safe."
Harry was perplexed. No one has ever said to him that they felt safe around him. It was outrageous and more than likely false. But as he stared at the wings that cling to Draco's back, he was mesmerized as he had never gotten to take a decent look at them before. They were stunning, much like Draco himself. Deep within, he wasn't sure if wanted to rightfully return the angel. He felt safe with Harry, and Harry felt a little less lonely and a bit more needed.
A foolish thing to want, but after only slaughtering and torturing millions upon millions of souls, protecting only one didn't sound too bad.