((So…this is a prologue to the story I'm thinking of writing...I'm not sure if I'll continue it though, so I'd love some feedback if you think I should This is set post-avengers and after 7th year in case you wanted to know beforehand. As of right now, I haven't decided a pairing, but I'd gladly accept any suggestions; the pairing doesn't have to involve Harry either. I hope you enjoy the story! Reviews and critics are welcome!))
The dark-haired man balances carefully on the edge of the building, his foot moving slowly in front of the other as he takes another step forward. His hands outstretch in front of his body, his palms facing outwards as if to embrace an invisible figure as he takes yet another step forward. Across from the man stood a lean figure, its presence undetectable to those walking on the sidewalk below, faceless and cloaked in black. Despite the figure's unnatural appearance, the man doesn't seem startled or fazed at all; he continues walking forward with open arms. It was when the man stood within arm's reach that the cloaked figure actually spoke, distracting the man from the small crowd gathering below.
"You have been expecting me…" Its voice is surprisingly smooth, like satin against the man's skin as every word seem to wrap around his body. Briefly, the man's green eyes flash with a hint of curiosity, unnoticeable behind the reflection of his wire-framed glasses. What he was curious about was unmentioned and pointless to contemplate in the figure's mind, and so without much thought it continues to speak. Neither of them notice the uneasy crowd that is beginning to grow in size with every passing moment, the civilians' eyes all resting nervously on the young man standing just on the edge, literally.
"I'm actually surprised it took you this long." If the figure had a mouth he might have smiled at the man's comment, but he didn't which left it with the option to smile to itself. Below, the crowd began to stir and murmur; 'was the boy crazy?' In a sweeping motion, the figure was inches away from the man's face, its dark cloak flowing around them like an endless river of ink. There was no visible reaction from the man save for the slight twitch of his lips that gave the creature the impression the man was trying not to smile. Smiling in the face of Death was one thing the man was not eager to do.
"My apologies, Master." Death's voice sounds like a purr now, oddly sensual for a being without any physical attributes save for a head with no face and a body that was completely skeletal. Once again, the man is completely unfazed by the figure; his only response was a barely noticeable smile.
"I prefer Harry, you know that." The young man's voice turns light and teasing, far too carefree for the serious situation he had gotten into. The sound of people shouting from far below reaches Harry's ears, causing his concentration on Death to slip slightly as his gaze flickers downwards for a moment. Death, too, looks down at the people panicking below; it finds their worry mildly entertaining. They both continue to gaze at the ignorant crowd, sharing a brief moment of understanding.
"They are afraid you will jump, Harry…" A light laugh escapes the man's lips, void of any hint of humor as his green eyes rest heavily on the sidewalk just in front of a rather fat looking man's feet. Slowly, his gaze slides over to Death as if to ask him, 'should they be?' In his pocket the elder wand hums, almost as if Death was telling him, 'yes, yes they should be.' Conversations like these make the British man wonder when he had grown this close to Death…When had silent conversations become the norm between them? Almost automatically, the cloak tightens around him, urging him back and away from the edge of the building; 'they' were not worried, Death was.
"Are you afraid?" The question does not visibly startle the figure, but Harry notes that the cloak had unconsciously tightened around him at his words. He imagines, with a small amount of fondness, that if Death had a face it would be scowling now, a scowl that would make his eyes dark and his face far too old. As if to solidify his thought, Harry glances at Death's smooth face with a curious expression only to feel an unnecessary amount of disappointment when it could not look back.
"I have nothing to fear, Master." There is a long silence between them now and with a long sigh, Harry lowers his hands to push Death's cloak away from his skin. After the cloak was off his body, he raises his hands back up to hesitantly rest his palms on either side of the creature's jaw. This time the figure does appear startled at the unexpected touch, just as the people below were when Harry began to cup thin air.
"I have never requested anything from you…" Harry pauses for a moment before continuing, "…now I must ask that you do one favor for me; I want you to let me jump." For a moment, Death looks ready to protest every word that he'd spoken only to change his mind before the words could form. Taking his chance, Harry releases its face to take one large step backwards; a step right off the edge. The air is whipping against his body as he fell, his glasses falling away from him to make the world appear as an even bigger blur than it already was. He can barely see the dark figure falling after him, Death's body hovering over him throughout the entirety of the fall as the cement grows closer and closer. There was a brief moment when Harry wonders if this was cruel, making his last companion watch him take his own life like this but the impact of his skull against the ground quickly ends that train of thought. Death doesn't even think about it before it's taking the soul of every bystander that had witnessed Harry's death, his cloak expanding out to cover the fallen man's body protectively as it continues tearing though the body of a middle-aged woman with claws drawn.
It was minutes later that Death was scooping Harry's broken body against his chest, disappearing in a large cloud of black smoke before reappearing in an empty lab. Immediately, the lab's security is blaring loudly at the intrusion and Death sets Harry's body on the floor with reluctance.
"Sir, there is an intruder in the tower." An English man's voice sounds from seemingly nowhere, the doors of the lab locking with a loud click as the AI's owner begins heading down from the living room with two assassins, a scientist, a demi-god, and a super-soldier on his heels.
"Forgive me; I cannot allow you to die, Harry."
((Thank you for reading.))