Chapter Text
It stunk in here, he thought, scrunching up his nose in distaste. It could smell a hell of a lot better if anyone would actually give a shit about the bar, alas, no. It's not like this sort of thing was on the top of their lists. Not to mention it would take a great amount of effort. At the end of the day? Nobody around here would want to do anything like that, even the employees who always seemed to have a personal vendetta against each and every being that walked through the door. One after the other had a story nobody wanted to know, or had the gall to want to ask. Since their eyes pierced like daggers through everyone who dared to take a look, he didn't dare. More, he preferred to badger the bartender who still didn't believe he was of age. It's not like it mattered down here. When did age matter in the first place? he thought, grumbling to himself. But he knew, and he made sure to let the bartender know that it was his birthday, he remembered it from his time on Earth. There was a certain day that made him feel special, even if he didn't realize it firsthand. After every year came a certain feeling that'd bury itself in the recesses of his stomach until the day when it'd finally erupt.
Twenty-one. And he had to spend it in Hell.
Harry was twenty-one and smelled of soot and brimstone, nothing else. Even the black wings that attached onto his back made it difficult to get the stench off. Not like there are any sorts of bathrooms around here, he had to fend for himself when it came to body oder. Again, who the hell cared? He didn't, or he liked to say that he didn't in order to make sure these creatures would leave him the fuck alone. Some were already in their final stage of demonship, him being one of the younger ones who had just recently gained their wings so to speak. Sooner or later, he'd turn into one of those fearsome looking Demons you see on Television, as much as they're vastly mis-represented. In this world? There's so much skepticism on what's real and what's not. Harry knew he deserved to be here for what he had done.
"Two glasses." Harry smacked his heavily ringed hand against the dark, wooden counter as if he had to call attention to himself. Wasn't that the opposite of how he wanted shit to go? Certainly, continue to be an asshole, it'll get you places. Showcasing yourself, though, that was against his rulebook. Of course, he was met with an indignant stare of the bartender who had half of his face blown off. Wonder what he did to get where he was today. Brave son of a bitch. That's the thing; Harry knew that he was far from brave. More like, he was a cowardly fucker who hid behind his facade in order to get somewhere in life. That's how his relationships worked, along with his escapade that landed him here in the first place. Not sharing what happened only makes it more fun for himself and those around him who are aching to figure out who the mysterious curly haired boy was and why he was such a dick half the time. You see, the people in Hell? It's not like they actually want to be there, there's a good portion who may have been wrongly assigned to this torture. Damn.
"Two fucking glasses, Horan."
"I heard ya the first time."
An Irish bartender how fitting.
"Then why am I sitting here like an ass without a glass in my hand?" The Demon next to Harry merely scoffed at his comment, only to right himself as the beer trickled down his chin. "This guy's had enough, kick him out."
"Do ya think ya run this place? You're a wee one." Harry's nostrils flared.
"I'm someone who needs a goddamn drink. I'm twenty one, not a "wee one". Leave the lingo behind the counter, thanks." Niall only scowled, cleaning the glass with his spit just to spite Harry, and really, that didn't mean much to the brunette. This blonde who looked upon him as if he were a cockroach meant nothing to Harry. Not many people meant shit to him, maybe...one person in particular, but that information is highly confidential. As are the major details of his life. Why in the world would people be interested in what he had to say? In who he was as a person...or a thing. Whoever he was, he was starting to get irritated. That wasn't all that hard to do, in all honesty. A slam broke him out of his reverie only to look up at Niall who had taken the liberty of forcefully smashing the glasses against the counter, glaring at him with his good eye. One that was blue, as if it were close to oceanic though muddied by his living in this dark and dreary dump.
"Yer beer."
"I didn't ask for beer." Harry pushed the glass away, glaring up at Niall challengingly.
"Ya didn't ask fer anything in particular, I just assumed..."
"Don't fucking assume, you should know what I want." Niall's un-burnt cheek flushed almost as if he was embarrassed. Demon's did have feelings, it wasn't odd. Only if you were on the brink of reaching your full potential do you feel slightly more human than the ones parading around with the horns, capturing souls. Here's how it worked. You're born after you die, arriving on the gondola past the creepy looking dude with a list. If you're on the list, you become a fledgling. Next, you gain your wings if you work enough in order to gain them. In Harry's case, he's close to demonship, so close he can taste it. What remains is the fact that he has unfinished business the boss doesn't know about that causes him to remain as if he were a spirit living on earth. And it sucked. For Harry, at least. No way was he going back to that dump. As he's cursed before, he'll continue to curse it until the subject isn't brought up anymore.
"Cut him a break, will you?" The being who had dribbled beer on himself piped up as if his opinion mattered, glaring at Harry. His eyes were dark brown, muscles flexing as if he were showing off without an audience.
"And who are you?" Harry stared over at the brown-eyed male, getting in his face. "Keep your nose out of my business, yeah?" The male stood, standing a good few feet taller than Harry, picking him up by the collar.
"Want him out?" he spoke raspily to the blonde who looked close to bursting.
"Throw him. As hard as ya can." Nodding, Harry squirmed in the other's touch as the partial demon stepped towards the door of the dive bar, throwing him out onto the charcoal sidewalk. The brute slammed the door shut, cheers sounded as soon as he did so, hah hah. So funny. So very fucking funny. And this is where Harry should stand up...He didn't drink anything due to his big mouth, grumbling while he walked and complained to those who would hear him. What a birthday this was. Awesome, as he used to say. Feet padded by gruesome looking Demons, those who look like they could rip your head off and slurp out of it for a drink. Soon he'd get to that level. Soon enough. Again. If he'd keep his mouth shut, it could be a possibility. For now? He had to try and start to run since something was beginning to chase him at full speed behind him, fuck. What it was, Harry couldn't pinpoint it while his curls threatened to shield his face as he ran at full speed, enough to pick up the energy in order to begin to fly, flapping his wings until he was airborne. Still, he could feel a shadowed blip on his radar suddenly knock him to the ground as he yelped, hating the fact that he could still feel pain.
"Remain still." The black figure hissed at him, tying up his arms and legs. Harry's eyes widened at the sight before him.
"The fuck did I do?"
"Calm. down." It snarled, able to tie Harry up to his liking. Reluctantly, he gave in, only to struggle as the being picked him up again, legs kicking while fists attempted to make something of themselves tied up. Like that could work, genius. His vision came in contact with very different perspectives while they flew through a red and orange sky, the heat not bothering him half as much as it did before. This...thing kept a good grip on Harry, thankfully he stopped kicking, it was starting to become unbearable. Shit...where were they? A castle came into view with the title HDP, something Harry had only heard of beforehand as he changed. If you were known to be a rouge demon, or one that won't reach their Demonship for personal reasons, you were cast here and...assigned the human you can't forget. It always was a fucking human. His just so happened to be an ass. This'll...this'll be great. And greeting the male, a surly looking older man, clean shaven and a robe, nodded as the black figure disappeared right when he set Harry down, his restraints only disappearing the minute he fell to the drawbridge that had been lowered for their arrival apparently.
"Nice to see you again, Harold."
"Don't call me that." He rolled his eyes, picking himself up as his wings stretched out before him. "The HDP, huh? Really, I can get over this kid, it won't take long. Maybe I could kill him?" he spoke all too eagerly, frowning just as the older male shook his finger disapprovingly.
"Not everything needs to end in Death." Harry rolled his eyes, "The Human Demon Project needs you to make amends with your human, or you'll be cast into the flaming inferno." The curly haired male couldn't help but snort. "Is his humorous?" Harry shook his head, no. "Good. We'll be stripping you of your powers while up on Earth. You'll be human again for a week. Make sure you don't mess anything up, or make matters worse for yourself. We can banish you to the first form Demon, and we will, if you don't cooperate." This caused Harry to stop making funny faces while the other talked, giving the older male his undivided attention.
"I don't want to see him," Harry mumbled, staring at his hands. "It's been three fucking years, do you think he'll want to see me? He's probably moved on..."
"And you haven't. That's the problem."
"I'm just a kid..."
The older male exhaled, "Weren't you just drinking? Isn't that a step into adulthood?" Harry frowned.
"Not. Exactly."
"Harry. You'll make it work. I have faith in you." It took Harry a couple of minutes before sighing in defeat, nodding his head. Soon shaking it again, then nodding it again, fuck. This...could either end well or horribly. It's not like he wanted to see him again, he really didn't. That...stupid grin the other always wore, the times they'd sneak out to go to a bar with fake IDs. Things that teenagers did. Now he hung out at bars with bartenders who have half a face and bouncers who were practically giants.
"Alright. Fine." The elder nodded, thankful. Sure, this was going to be more painful than Harry was ready for, but it had to happen. Whether or not he wanted it to, it had to. When it's over and done with, he can come back. He can. In a snap of his fingers, Harry's body was restrained once again, along with a flash of white light hitting against his temples, sending him on a trip it seems. Almost as if he'd found mushrooms again. Fucking blast from the past, seeing his childhood, along with the present staring at himself in the face. Lord help him, give him strength to actually talk to the shit who made him go crazy in the first place. Next step? Redemption. But not too much. Enough to make sure he could lose his heart entirely, as required.
Here goes nothing.