A/N: I'm not entirely sure where this idea came from, but I wondered what Death would look like. Something told me he would not be a skeleton cloaked in black. So I decided to write about him.
Death was nothing like Lily Potter expected.
Although, truth be told, she hadn't truly thought about what Death would be like before. Merlin, she was only twenty-one! No sensible girl of that age would think about (or expect) a visit from Death.
If she really had to guess, though, she'd expect him to look like the Grim Reaper that children always dressed up as for Halloween.
Ironic, wasn't it, considering her death date.
She stood in front of her son's cradle, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her pleas had fallen silent, and she knew without a doubt that they had fallen on deaf ears.
He would not spare her son.
He would not spare her.
Just like he hadn't spared James.
Her James. She choked back a sob as she pictured her husband's body, lying cold and still and unseeing on the tile floor of their kitchen.
No. She would not break down. Not in front of this murderer.
Not in front of her son. She needed to be strong.
So she stood silently, arms by her sides, waiting for Death to come and collect her.
For she knew he would come.
James had told her.
"You're lying."
"Am not!" he cried. "It's true!"
"I don't believe you," she said, the right corner of her mouth lifting up slightly.
"Doesn't matter if you believe me. He'll come for you either way." He leaned in closer to her, his face mere inches from hers.
"How do you know he exists?" she asked. "How do you know it's not just a story?"
"My dear Lily Flower," he said, "this is the wizarding world!" He pulled back and threw his arms dramatically into the air. "Anything can happen!"
Her eyebrow rose skeptically.
"You," he said accusingly, leaning back toward her, "are no fun."
She said nothing. Her smile grew wider as he leaned even closer. The tips of their noses were touching when he said, "Fine. I'll give you proof."
His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her around until she was lying against his stomach, her head bobbing up and down ever-so-slightly as he inhaled.
"You know how in the Muggle world people have near-death experiences, and they talk about how they saw a tunnel of light and dead relatives and all that?"
Lily twisted her head around until she was staring at him in disbelief. "How do you know that?"
He shrugged. "I'm a curious bloke."
"Too curious for your own good," she muttered.
"Do you want me to tell you or not?" he asked, a hint of irritation coloring his tone.
"Go ahead."
"We have the same thing in the wizarding world. Only they talk about meeting Death."
"But we don't believe those near-death experience people in our world. Why do you?"
"Maybe because there are more cases of people who meet Death? Maybe because he's also been written about? Maybe because we're more accepting of all things fantastical? I don't know. Point is, Death exists. And he's who you meet when you die."
"Are you trying to scare me?" she asked, twisting around.
"No," he said, sounding entirely unconvincing.
"You are," she accused. "You're trying to be the big, strong man who needs to protect me."
"You don't need any protecting, love, trust me," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
She smirked. "Thought so."
And with that, she touched a hand to his cheek and gently pressed her lips to his.
She could feel the ghost of that kiss on her lips when she first saw the green light. Her life didn't flash before her eyes as it drew nearer. No, the only thing she saw was a picture of them, on the dresser by the door. Lily was holding Harry as James wrapped his arms around her. Another tear slid down her cheek, and then…
She was gone.
She blinked and looked around, disoriented from the sudden change of setting. She'd been standing in the nursery, and now…
She was surrounded by white. The walls enclosing her were covered in white tile, as was the floor. She looked up and found that the ceiling was made of the same material as well. Upon closer inspection, she realized that there was no door to this room. She had no way of getting out.
A flash of color in her periphery kept her calm. She turned to find that the wall behind her was covered in a vivid picture. She peered through and gasped.
It wasn't a picture.
It was her life. The life she'd just been deprived of.
Her body was lying crumpled on the floor in front of the hooded figure. Her son was standing in his cradle, his chubby hands clutching the bars. Her killer was watching Harry intensely, no doubt on his way to end his life as well.
But…something wasn't right. You-Know-Who—
She chided herself. She was dead, there was no use in avoiding the name. There was nothing more he could do to her.
Except—
No. Don't think about it.
Voldemort wasn't moving. She was sure that he'd be well on his way to cursing her son, but her just stood there. Staring.
She realized that Harry wasn't moving either. Both figures in the scene were still, frozen in time.
The time she'd died. This was her death scene.
"Lily Potter?"
Her head jerked up at the sound of her name. A man was standing in the middle of the room, watching her through horn-rimmed spectacles. He was dressed in tan slacks, a white shirt, and a plaid sweater vest. His oily black hair was slicked back, like he'd used too much hair product in it.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice coming out quiet and shaky. "Where am I?"
She shivered when he spoke. His voice was soft, but carried a coldness with it that lowered the temperature in the room several degrees. "You are in the In Between. This is the waiting place, where I come to collect. I am Death."
She blinked once, twice. This man…he was Death? He looked so ordinary! He reminded her of a bank teller, with the way he was dressed.
Ironic, she thought. Considering he's come to collect your soul.
"You did not expect me to look like this," he said matter-of-factly.
"I don't know what I expected you to look like," she said honestly.
He smiled, but it looked slightly grotesque on his face. "Only the elderly do. No young person ever thinks about Death. They believe they're too young."
"I am," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm only twenty-one."
Pity shone through Death's coal-black eyes. "Yes. I know. The young are particularly difficult to collect. Barely begun to live, and yet I must take them away."
"Can't you do something?" she asked quietly.
"I cannot. It is not my doing that ends your life. It is his."
She followed his gaze to the scene behind her. The cloaked figure remained still, looking at her son.
"I thought you would look like him," she said, breaking the silence.
Death pondered this. "Most people do."
"What do Muggles see? When you come for them, I mean?" she blurted out. Her cheeks flushed as Death raised an eyebrow. "You do collect the souls of Muggles, right?"
"I collect all, magical or non-magical. It makes no difference to me. A life is a life."
"If only he believed that," she murmured, looking at Voldemort. If Death heard her, he pretended otherwise.
"You asked what they would see," said Death. "They see what they want to see, be it angel or devil, heaven or hell…"
"Who would want to see hell?"
"I misspoke. Sometimes it is not what they want to see, but what they believe deep down that they have earned. Some souls, upon reflection of their life, find that they have earned an eternity in hell."
"How horrible," whispered Lily.
Death gave her a curious look. "You are the first to ask me a question of that nature. A vast majority of souls are afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid of you," she said. "I'm afraid for him." She gestured to her son, still standing in his cradle. "I don't want to leave him behind."
"Attempting to stay with your son will not help. It will only keep him from his task."
"You mean—"
"He will not die this night," Death confirmed. "Tom will try to murder him many times, and will almost succeed twice. He will reach a place like this once, but he will not choose death. I will collect your son many years from now, when he is an old man. When he is ready for me."
Lily nearly collapsed with relief. "Thank Merlin."
"Will you come with me?" he asked, extending his hand.
Lily watched him, but did not move. "Will I see James again?"
"The young man who just passed through? Yes, you will." Death smiled again, but it possessed little warmth. "He would not come with me until I informed him that you would be following him shortly."
"You're not lying to me?"
"I have no reason to," he said plainly, and Lily saw no deception in his cold eyes. If she was to never see her husband again, she had no doubt that Death would tell her as much.
Lily hesitated, then grasped Death's hand. It was not icy cold, as she had expected, but pleasantly warm.
As soon as their fingers touched, a door materialized at the end of the room. As Death gently pulled her away, Lily turned to look back at her son.
"I love you, Harry," she whispered. "Never forget that."
And she turned and stepped through the threshold, no longer afraid.
For as we know, death is nothing but the next great adventure.
A/N: Please review and tell me what you think!