Demon!Hunter Harry (Patreon)

So Harry's look stepping into New York was a lovely, dark mysterious vibe that screamed "I'm hear to get rid of demons" and I'm into it so I wrote a little thingy. Of course, I started soft because YOU KNOW ME!! But if y'all wanted more I imagine it becoming a lot darker

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Confused wasn’t adequate enough to explain how Harry felt in this moment.

Astonished maybe, troubled even. This was unlike anything he’d ever encountered before, and no matter the rigorous training and the plenitude of experience he’s garnered over his time doing this, he wasn’t sure how to come about this. Never had he had to spend this much time thinking over a task, weighing his options, even considers speaking to Adam about it for his input (though he decides against it at first; that’d be much too embarrassing, requesting help from someone he’d trained). 

Harry had been assigned to this case; a thick spell of miasma had cast over a spot in New York and he was simply meant to find the source, terminate it, exorcise the area, go home. He’d done this on so many occasions he’d barely packed anything, presuming he’d be there and back in three days time. But then he’d tracked down where it had originated, only to find the hotel room of an unsuspecting young woman. 

He’d never been so confused; Harry may not be human but he surely knows what one looks like and what one smells like. And he knows for a definitive fact that they don’t carry such a dark, drooping cloud of dread that can affect such a large portion. Even those who are possessed don’t have such power, the limits of the human body stifles their abilities. 

And this girl was very much human. She was starfished out on the bed, half of her body covered with a comforter, the other half stuck out revealing a rumpled tank top and a pair of sleep joggers shoved up towards her knee, bunched around it. Drool spotted the corner of her mouth, and her hair was a disheveled muss atop her head. Just to make sure of it, he’d crept over to her, peeled her lip up to check her teeth -- no razor sharp incisors meant for tearing into flesh. Felt her head where she was not the heat of the devil’s hand, nor the iciness of purgatory. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her heart beat strong and steady, her skin was smooth, free of scales nor spikes. 

After his confirmation, he’d straightened out with a fist pressed to his side and a disgruntled look on his face that no doubt explained how he was feeling. What the hell was this? Some sort of trap? Was he being tested for something?

Just as he was going to leave however, the girl very suddenly began to wake. A half fisted hand lifted to knuckle at her closed eye while the other blinked open blearily. Harry hurried, dropped down to the ground near her bed and rolled himself halfway beneath the mattress. She only stirred but a minute, where he could hear her groan and yawn loudly, stretching her body out and shifting until the inevitable coos of a human’s resting breath filled the air. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d held left him in a soft gust as he shook his head, retreating through the hotel room door and sliding the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob. 

Three days and three nights he had spent in a fluster, having to send for more of his belongings realizing that it would be much longer than he had anticipated. Sometimes, he’d wished he’d chosen to do more with his life than hunt after demons but when you’re born into a family of them, then picking a university and a regular 9 to 5 job was sort of out of the question. Especially after finding out at the ripe age of ten that they weren’t even entirely human themselves -- something laced within their blood for centuries upon centuries. At one point the right hand of God, something or other (you’d think that Harry would remember the story by heart by the amount it’d been drilled into him but he made good of forgetting it after twelve). 

It had it’s advantages surely. After each case, there was a definite ending and he was reducing the amount of murders by the hand of demon, and he felt as if he was aiding in making the world better in some way which is something he finds unlikely he’d feel behind a desk for eight hours. Disadvantages were of plenty as well, however, including but not limited to the amount of viscous black blood (the blood of demons) he’d been coated in, the long hours, the sleepless nights, the migraines associated with heavy miasma coming from a human girl who was showing no signs of being possessed. 

As much as he hated doing it, he had to follow her. The thought of it makes him feel gross -- like he might be invading her privacy which was now a concern. It hadn’t mattered in the beginning before he had realized she was a human, but now he felt like a creep knowing this and still having to follow after her closely. He had to figure out the situation, if she was in danger or if she was the danger, and that meant watching her as she left her hotel. It meant realizing that she was in New York for a wedding, which included going out for a smoothie, cursing to herself when she spills it on the hem of her shirt, before frantically searching through her purse to find a Tide stick.  It meant thinking that she was sneaking off to do something dreadful and cruel to a human only to find that she’s just taking a breather, letting herself yawn loud and wide, checking her phone, even wiggling herself out like she was getting her head back in the game for being social. 

Harry was just about to call a quits for the night, after following her from place to place with her friends just to end up in a club with nothing but sweat and gyrating bodies, he was over it. Had just stalked a poor girl for a full day because he thought she might be some secret demon or in the shadow of one at the very least, and yet nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe he had just gotten it wrong -- maybe it was at the hotel prior to her checking in and it’s aura had been so thick he was mistaken. 

So he turned to get out of the club, ready to go back to the drawing board and figure out what in the hell he had fucked up on the way to this point, when he was shoved. Well, less shoved and more fallen into than anything, and when he buckles up to tell someone to piss off, he finds that it’s the human girl. Sat in a puddle on the ground, a frown at her mouth, looking up to him these eyes so intensely pure and clean that Harry felt an intense rush of guilt for presuming she could be anything but. 

“I’m sorry,” she’d shouted up towards him, attempting to doge the people who apparently didn’t care if she’d fallen down or not. Harry reached down to grab her hand, helping her up as she continued, “Everyone moves like it’s a damn mosh pit in here but it’s a damn Flo Rida song!” She looked down at her jeans and with a heavy sigh, she realized that whatever drink she’d had painted her denim a darker blue, “This night just gets worse and worse, huh?” With a rumple of her lips, she looks back to him and her brows raise just a little, “Hey, have we met before?” 

He felt his heart kick up in his chest, ramming against his ribcage as he shook his head, “Uh n-no, we haven’t met.” He wants to hit himself -- he’s face to face with the most vile of creatures and yet a seemingly gentle human makes him stutter? 

“Oh, yeah I guess. You’ve just got one of them comforting faces, you know? Like I’ve seen you for a while or something. . .like an old friend?” She shrugs, “I dunno, I’m a few bevvies in I don’t think m’making sense.” 

“You’re making sense,” he nods and offers her a gentle smile, “Are you okay, though? Pretty rough tumble there.” 

Y/N nods, fixing her jeans around her waist, “Yeah, yeah I think so. Don’t feel like buying another drink after that one, it was what like twelve dollars wasted on the ground.” 

“I can buy you another -- guess it was my fault a bit, felt it leave your hand when you bumped into me.” He should’ve ended it right there but he didn’t! Hell, he just felt so fucking guilty about everything and he did feel her drink leave her hand then. Not only had he invaded her privacy all day, he may not have been the initial reason for her fall but he certainly didn’t help to stop her. Plus she’s sleeping in a room full of miasma, and she’s probably not sleeping well because of that, and he kind of forgets humans are humans that are affected by things until he has conversations with them. Even if it’s just a small one.

Y/N waves her hand at him, “No you don’t have to, s’fine. You could help me out though.”

“With what?” He asks, his mind reeling -- is this when she reveals that she’s execrable being sent from hell? That would make his life a lot easier if that was the case. 

“Would you pretend to be the guy, m’seeing? Was leaving the group so I could sneak off and nab the “date I invited” so that they would get off my back about not seeing anyone,” she pushes her hair from her face, “I know this is a lot, and sudden, and you probably think m’crazy but I’ve been asking and nobody is up for it. You can say no, though, that’s okay I won’t hold it against you.” 

And he should say no. He has things to do, a demon to find, and the terrible stench of this club to shower off of him. A no would be smart. So smart, and Harry’s smart -- graduated top of his class, with a more rigorous program than regular human schools and by the time he was fifteen he was doing things at a graduate college level. 

But instead of being smart, he answers, “Yeah, I can.”