𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐋 | drarry

1 | the curiosity of an angel

  He was created with precision and  delicacy. Every eyelash, every freckle was set in the correct place an accounted for, his body a white canvas for the Gods to do anything they pleased. Nimble fingers stretched, soft to the touch, longing to be held in warmth of another; blue eyes deep as the ocean, and sliver like the full moon at midnight; lips rightfully pouted, endearing like the color of fresh peaches, gasping with the sights of beauty. Platinum blond hair falling into mercury orbs, long eyelashes looking down, only to wonder what was below, but never to actually witness.

He went by the name of Draco, last name unknown as it didn't matter up here in the clouds, they belonged to the Gods. His honey dipped wings that clung to his shoulder blades fluttered amongst the bright lights of what was known to be lights of creation. His young mind was wanting to be filled with knowledge about the underworld, also known as Hell, just begging to catch a glimpse.

Sadly, he was unable to. The others say he's too young, too innocent at the age of eighteen- that his mind would instantly be damaged after looking into the pits of fire. They say he was safe up here, and Draco didn't argue that, he liked being safe.

Every now and then, he didn't mind taking a little risk because curiosity ruled his mind.

The boy was on his knees, laying down on his calves with his gentle hands resting on his thighs, so very close to the edge, trying to bend over to get a tiny look-

"Draco, what are you doing?" Came a high pitched, startled voice from behind, making the blond jump back, heart skipping a beat. He quickly became saddened that he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do, especially untrained.

Draco cleared his throat, standing back into his bare feet, stepping away from the Edge carefully. "Nothing-" he replied, turning to face whoever spoke to him, body internally relaxing when he saw the soft, bright features that resembled his own. It was his Mother and thankfully, not a Guardian Angel, he would be in bigger trouble it was one of them. "I was just looking, I'm sorry." He said honestly, tilting his head away from the sharp silver orbs gazing down upon him, and he bowing his head in apology.

He heard his dearest Mother sigh in affection, smiling warmly as she stepped closer to her son. "I know you're curious darling, but it's too hazardous for you." A hand lightly landed on Draco's dainty shoulder as the concerned words were spoken, a frown tugging at his lips. Everyone thought he was too sensitive for things like this... he was, but he tried to prove otherwise.

"I know, Mother, I need to finish my studies about the underworld first," he sighed, continuing to look down at his toes, curling them in disappointment.

His Mother, named Narcissa, gave an approving smile towards her son. "That's right, and if you were studying right now, you would have known that you could've fallen all the way down into Limbo."

Limbo, the edge of Hell itself. Draco read up this a few days ago when he was lingering in the library, the bookkeeper seemed to wander off and that gave the blond a chance to sneak into the restricted section.

Limbo is the part of the underworld where people are sent if they died in original sin without being assigned to Hell of the Damned, which is what most mortals are aware about. The angel assumed Limbo to be the most agonizing part of the underworld, where souls are trapped to be continuously tortured by vigorous teeth of the mutant wolves, permanently.

A shiver ran up Draco's spine at the thought, gulping down built up salvia that made his throat ache. "I won't go near the edge again, Mother. I promise."

"Good boy. Now, dust off your robes, and return to your books." The woman ordered, keeping her chin held high as she disappeared down the golden walkway, probably going back to her own assigned duty.