𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐋 | drarry

10 | wrath attraction causes submerged respiration

   Harry watched the ghoulish woman, emotion tedious within his words and eyes, sluggish almost. "So, do you know how to send him back, Hermione?" He asked her as she turned towards him, a reassuring grin materializing across her cheeks.

"Of course I do," she laughed. "It's going to be very difficult and possibly a long process, but it's not impossible," she inquired, adjusting her long, tattered, and decently layered dress. As like much spirits, they arrive in Hell with the clothes they presumably die in.

Hermione's life ended in the 1690's in Salem, Massachusetts. She was executed wrongfully for being mistakenly accused as a witch, and sadly, her demise ended with her being hung. Although she was not a witch, she admittedly understood why she was accused as such. During her short lifetime, as dying along the young age of nineteen, she collected herbs. She was considered the town nurse; and with her skills, she made medicines. She also conducted varied poisons, and purposefully poisoned the men in her village that was corrupted in their acts.

Due to her committed homicides, she was thrown in the Underworld.

Harry shockingly befriended her. They didn't meet much or talk often, but when they did, they both acted like they were best friends during their entire lifetime.

"You should know how," she ticked, "Being one of the most powerful beings here, you should've learned this centuries ago."

Harry huffed, shoulders sinking. "It's not everyday an Angel accidentally falls in here. That's only happened once before, so I suppose I skipped that much," the words were muttered as he averted his gaze towards the old soul. Obviously referring to Satan, the one Angel that was cast down.

Hermione shook her head, her chest raising as she sighed heavily, preparing to spew as much information as she could. The process of sending an Angel back up into Heaven was, like said before, was never really necessarily done before— and even then, they were considered lucky to know how.

Draco idled around in the background, not making much noise as he was mesmerized by the sharp objects laid around as he never had the time to actually observe them. The different types of blades were such a new sight, he's never seen them except in his books up in Heaven.

He wasn't paying much attention to what Harry and the girl were saying. He was aware that it was about sending him back, but he  drowned their voices inside of his head as he shuffled silently.

"So, how is it done?"

"You must wait until an Angel up above comes down into the Purgatory, the ones who are supposed to go down there to separate souls and such," she mused as she flicked her tongue across the top of her lip, eyeballing the angel who was too close to danger. "Of course, it's not like they come down every hour to collect certain souls and send the rest here."

She continued, "It might be days, weeks, or maybe they've already done it and we missed it. What I'm saying is that it's very unpredictable."

Harry grumbled, disliking the idea of possibly having Draco here for a number of days. Not only because it could more than likely dishevel everything in the Underworld, but the fact that Draco was personally messing with Harry.

"When that particular Angel comes down into Purgatory, you can safely return him back. But the thing is, only you can do it, Harry. You're the only who is powerful enough to even get close to Purgatory." Hermione ushered her hand down on the man's knee, lowering her voice with eyes a bit wide. It was clear that she was sensing something others were not.

"Can you do it?" She simply asked.

Harry furrowed his brows, straightening his posture, "Do what?"