Not many people would ever consider it, but Death himself had once been human as well.
In a world where everyone lived until the end of time Thanatos lived a simple, but happy life. He had his family with him on the farm they owned, childhood friends and mentors by his side, his lover Hyacinth Peverell. Really, anything he could ever want in life.
What he didn't know was that his father had performed sins which were – back then – unheard of in their world. He meant well but had followed the wrong path and it had become his downfall. Mother Magic was so consumed in rage that when she had only intended to curse his father the curse had spread to the rest of the family. Whatever his scythe touched would wilt or enter a never ending sleep. His father and mother had been pulled through God knows what then simply erased from existence. And Hyacinth, his dear Hyacinth whose eyes had always sparkled with laughter when he jokingly called her Mistress had become lost in Time.
Never would he kiss her, hear her voice or hold her in his arms again.
He was cold. So, very cold.
Terror gripped the human race as they found people who were weakened, old and frail were falling asleep and never opening their eyes again. Before no one had a care in the world. And now… Now hunger, one cut, one fall could lead to the life draining from one's eyes. This dangerous force was dubbed Death.
People of the village soon realized that they could always see a glint of a scythe, the swish of a black cloak when people passed on. Both being signature items Thanatos once carried on his person, and the name soon was synonymous with death.
As for Thanatos himself, he had been turned into a dark wraith by Mother Magic's curse. Nothing more than a phantom, a spectre.
Centuries passed and Thanatos still remained the same. Reaping souls and seeing them to the afterlife. Until one day Fate came sobbing about the "poor child of the prophecy" and asked him to please spare her and watch over her. He had thought nothing of it until he saw her eyes, heard her name.
Hyacinth Potter.
Potter. The last living descendants of the Peverell line. The rightful owners of his Hallows.
When he had first met the three brothers he had thought them so much like three sides of Hyacinth's personality. One wanted power, to better the world in their own way. One wanted love, someone to turn to and could understand them. One wanted peace, to live a quiet life. And so he had gifted them the Hallows in hopes that he could get a piece of his lover back.
When she died, when she had turned around and a spark of recognition lit up her eyes, followed by overflowing love he knew he had fallen for her once again. He had pulled her naked form against him and kissed her fiercely. It was like no time had passed.
Hyacinth was his one and only true Mistress. No one else could command him, no one else could replace her. And for that reason he would Never Let Go of her.