Author: This is my second HP fanfiction... first one isn't even finished T.T oh well! This popped in my head after watching the DH movie so yeah... ENJOY!
Prologue: His Little Angel
In the story of the three brothers and Death there were wishes made. Foolish wishes for life, for power, and for hiding.
The stone of revival.
The elder wand.
The invisibility cloak.
Three wishes from three brothers, but Death gave one other wish, just one other, to a broken witch.
A small girl, glowing with beauty and youth, walked down a dark corridor. The soft pitter patter of her steps filled the hall, the sound eery. She was an angel with pure ruby hair that fell to the middle of her back, curly locks framed her pale face; soft black eyes framed by thick curled lashes, rosy lips, and a cute button nose. The girl walked until she came to a dark oak door, placing a fragile pale hand she pushed the door open. Inside the room it was dark, just like the hall, only lit by the could covered moon.
"Papa?" She called timidly.
"Yes, child?" Replied a deep powerful voice.
"I had another dream, papa..." She said as she walked farther into the room.
It was a study, two walls were bookshelves and there was a study desk near the only window. A leather chair placed behind it with two chairs in front. In the middle of the room were two black leather sofas and a coffee table in between. Sitting in the leather chair, reading a book, was the Lord of the House. Stopping his reading the man looked at the child in front of his desk.
"Come, child," He said and patted his lap, "do tell of what your dream inclines."
The girl climbs on to his lap and curls herself against his chest, listening to the hollowness inside.
"Foolish witch who gives a false love to a harsh man for the sake of her own affection, within her actions destinies of the future have begun. A child without love, born from falseness and raised with harshness. The child showered with awe and power, but feared by all. Child destined to become darkness, with no soul, no pity. Forever doomed to not understand love or mercy." She recites quietly.
"A witch will give a love potion to a muggle man, and conceive a half-blood child who will grow to be a Dark Lord who will know no compassion?" The man says questioningly.
"Yes, but there's more papa." She says hesitantly.
"Hush now, child, you can tell me more another time." He says gently.
"Yes papa." The girl replied, "Papa? May I hear a bedtime story?"
"Yes, you may, my sweet angel." He answered.
Rising from his sit, the man carried the girl to her room as he told her a story. She watched him as she listened. The man was tall, towering. Ice blue eyes framed by long black lashes, a straight nose, and narrow pale lips. Pure black hair kept in a tight long braid that rested upon his shoulder. Skin pale with a sickly glow. He wore all black. The young girl's light pink night gown apparent against his black turtle neck.
"Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a king. This king had many followers, loyal and obedient, but the king was lonely. He longed for a joyful company. He was powerful and feared throughout everywhere, and thus he could not find a soul that would willingly be beside him. Over time, the king grew bitter and cruel. His subjects, though loyal and obedient, feared him so. He knew no love, no warmth, no happiness... Until an angel was gifted to him." The man said as he lowered the girl on to her bed.
Covering his child and tucking the blanket around her, the man sat beside her covered legs.
"The king was with surprise that an angel would be gifted to him, when he himself was higher than the devil. For he was Lord Death, who would present so sweet a creature such as an angel to a dark being?" He continued petting her hair, "The angel was but a baby, wished upon him. She brought the sensation of joy and warmth with her, a bundle of happiness. Lord Death raised her for eons, and he was filled with such warmth when the angel said her fist words and stumbled her first steps. He vowed to forever watch her grow..."
"For her story hasn't begun, right papa?" She asked.
"That's right, my little angel, your story hasn't begun.. but soon my dear." Death replied.
"Good night papa, I love you." She said.
"Dream, my Rosemary..." He whispered, "and I you."