Death
Warning: Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Pairing: (OMC)Death/Harry
Word Count: 636 (only actual Drabble)
One Drabble a Day Challenge, Date: Tuesday, October 13th, 2009
Death
His birth had been nothing special, a stark contrast to the rest of his life, and ironically, his death. He had been born as countless others had: as someone had died. This time, it had been an older woman who had lived a full life and had welcomed the sight of me, missing her husband and other loved ones, who I had carried onto to the afterlife in the very arms I carried her away in.
His mother, who I admit was very beautiful for a human, had a fairly easy delivery and I had only stayed because the boy had a feeling about him. I had gotten the feeling I would be seeing a lot of him throughout his lifetime.
I had been right.
We would meet, surprisingly, three more times before the final meeting that would finally shape our relationship, that of him always barely escaping my grasp. But none of them had made such an impact as the day he had survived the curse that had always delivered the victim into my arms. The curse that gave me his parents.
That had been the night my interest in one Harry James Potter began.
The first fifteen years of my childe's life had been normal, or as normal as it can get for my little one. He constantly evaded my hold and saved as many lives as he could. Despite how much he saw, and what he went through, my childe was still fairly innocent and I had been drawn to that.
Not much in life was as pure as my childe.
And, soon enough, I had found myself drawn to my childe in different ways than before, I was jealous and bitter and soon found myself wishing for him to die. It could be said that I was lonely, but either way I wanted to keep him by my side. I wanted to make him mine and only mine, I wanted him so much more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.
I loved him as much as Death could love someone. I loved him as much as I could understand of this emotion I had never felt, or at least never remembered feeling.
And with love came so many other emotions. Loneliness, I wanted him to know I existed. I wanted him to look at me, to love me.
Anger that he always ran away from me, anger that so many other people took advantage of what he gave them when all I ever wanted was a single look or a single word from my childe.
Sadness that my child was in so much pain, a lot of it that I had caused with my existing.
Jealousy. That red haired girl infuriated me, the red haired girl who was in love with my child. I had hated her so much, much more than I had ever hated anyone in my life. And so many more emotions, complicated enough that I can't put them into words. I watched my little child, for the better part of seventeen years, evade me so expertly. Nothing I tried ever managed to bring him into my grasp.
So I began to try harder than before. He came closer to dying—closer to being with me-- so many times, so much closer than before. But he always got away.
Always escaped.
Until now. He's smiling at me, accepting me, my little childe. I've waited so long for this.
I say nothing, simply holding out my hand which he takes without fuss. The war is over, Tom is dead and he can finally rest.
And I can finally have the only person I will ever love.
Death and his bride.
Or, in this case, Death and his husband.
Either way, he was mine. For good this time.