A Brush With Death
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Harry Potter books. While I would love to take credit for that (as well as the money), it is all J.K. Rowling's.
Spoilers: Unless you haven't read the series at all, there are no spoilers.
Characters: Persephone, Hade (angel-type folks), and guest appearances by Harry and Lily Potter, along with Tom Riddle (as Lord Voldemort) and Sirius Black (sort of).
Summary: Why Harry's parents' deaths went down the way they did.
Other Stuff: None
A/N: Yeah, I though I was clever with the naming (I really like Ancient Greek mythology and the way Rowling used some of that in the names of her characters) and I saw a commercial or some such thing for the movie Meet Joe Black, and well…
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Out of the swirling fog hurried a hooded and cloaked form. The blue-eyed beauty paused to listen, and then hurried down the dark street. A hand flew out of a dark doorway and grasping her right arm, twirled her into the deeper shadows of the stoop.
"Hade," she hissed as her hood slid back, releasing the heavy waves of auburn, down to her hips, framing her fair face as her fiery eyes flashed.
Hade's only response was a slow, debilitating smile, displaying perfect white teeth.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Persephone, of all people, you should know why I, of all people, am here tonight," he leaned toward her, a tall, green-eyed, exquisite figure of a man, devastating in every sense of the word. From the lock of blonde hair that always fell in front of his left eye, to the delicious pouty droop to his lower lip, down the black suit he wore, to the shining shoes on his feet. "You, of all people, are here for the same reason as I… Well, not the same reason, but for the same thing."
Damn that smile! Persephone thought, as Hade stepped closer, doing his best imitation of a ravishing Cheshire Cat.
"I will not let you do this," Persephone warned, attempting to pull out of his grip, "You won't win this time."
A deep rumbling chuckle escaped his throat, "Oh? What makes you think I won't?" What do you think makes tonight any different?"
"Because this time, I know you, and this time, it is most urgent," She tried again to pull away from him, but he held fast.
"Oh, I don't think you know me just yet," Hade purred, pulling her against his chest, "you haven't gotten the chance to know me."
That damned wicked grin! Was all Persephone could think before his mouth enveloped hers, and all rational thought was lost. His left hand released her arm and buried itself in her long hair, his other slid into her cloak and around her waist. As he pressed her against him, Persephone reached her arms up to wrap around his broad shoulders and twine her fingers in his silky hair.
Suddenly, she was alone in the chill October evening, the wind playing with her open cloak. "Damn!" she whispered, pulling her cloak tightly about her body, and setting of down the empty street once more, a royal blue whirl in the surrounding darkness, his chuckle still echoing in her head.
Through the maze of England's underworld streets, Persephone forged her way towards a small village, with a small house just beyond the last street, a visible cloak of sparkling magic surrounding it. Cursing mortal means of transport, Persephone broke into a run when she saw the house, her destination. She wove through the small streets of the village, through the dark like a cat, without hesitation. She did pause once, when she saw another dark shape out of the corner of her eye, near the woods by the village, but it was gone when she looked harder. Shrugging it off, she continued past the houses. When she reached the last of the buildings, the hilltop above went dark; the magic had fallen away, a spell had been broken.
With a last surge of energy Persephone flew up the side of the hill, and as she reached the doorway, she saw that it was ajar, she rushed through, and into the entrance hall as a flash of green light pervaded from the kitchen. When the light faded, she saw a shining black shoe disappear up the last step to the second floor. She quickly followed after before anyone else came out of the kitchen.
When Persephone reached the top floor, she caught sight of Hade's black-clad body slip into the room at the end of the hall, and she hurried forward and slid in after him.
Directly in front of her was a woman, bent over a cradle, her curly red hair shielding her face from sight. She stood quickly and made to leave the room, running straight toward Persephone when the door burst open and splintered. In strode a tall man in a heavy black cloak with the hood up, hiding his face, but for his wicked mouth, red set in a deathly white face.
When the woman had moved toward the door, Persephone had thrown herself out of the way into the corner. Now she saw that in the other corner stood Hade, hidden in the shadows. His eyes were intently fixed upon the pair in the center of the room. The cloaked figure was gloating at the distraught woman, who had begun to weep.
Keeping her eyes on the killer, watching for him to move his left arm, Persephone slunk towards the cradle. While the man was still touting his glory, Persephone chanced a look away and into the cradle.
Within, partially hidden by toys and blankets, she saw a dark-haired baby boy, quietly staring up at her with his eyes still the uncertain deep blue of a young babe. Persephone became so angry with the idea of that man killing the child, barely a year old; it was like a weight in her chest. She was so angry that she didn't notice that the gloating had stopped. Only when the red-haired woman made a sudden move was Persephone aware of anything else in the room.
"No!" the woman screamed as she threw herself between the cradle and the murderer, just as he raised his arm, a wand grasped in the pale, skeletally thin fingers.
As a green light flashed through the room, Persephone could feel a magic touch her, but it was not the same evil magic that had hit the woman now lying at Persephone's feet; it seemed more like it was coming from her. It was warm, and felt good, it made Persephone feel stronger than any living thing.
"Stupid, foul woman," the cloaked murderer hissed, then spat on her body as he stepped closer to Persephone and the cradle. Hade was now standing next to the mother, staring towards the cradle, his eyes empty and unseeing.
For as long as Persephone had known him, Hade had been, not exactly cold, but a rather distant man. A little odd at times, but considering his job, Persephone could not blame him, and she knew he was friendly and warm, loving, despite his peculiarities. But the look he had in his eyes, or the lack thereof, it was as if he was dead inside, a doll of the powerful and animated angel/man(?) he was. Chills were sent down Persephone's spine looking at him, and thinking of how he was earlier this night; how could this be the same person?
The horrible wizard now raised his wand again, pointing it toward the cradle and stepping closer, Hade now stood directly in front of Persephone, just in front of the murderous wizard. Anger stirred further in the angel's heart. Fueled by the warm magic from the child's mother, Persephone stood alone against Death.
As the man spoke the incantation and the spell began to form, Persephone threw her wings open. Normally a light royal blue with white highlights, like snow on a dark night, they were wrapped in a red glow of magic, the magic she was now infused with.
When the angel had turned away from him, the boy had pulled himself up to continue to watch her, and as her wings unfurled, almost filling the room, an edge of a feather ran crookedly across his brow, cutting him as the green spell was absorbed into the red magic and the angel herself.
The powerful wings also hit Hade, and he flew backwards, his right hand brushing the cloaked killer, who let out a wail and fell becoming a heap of robes. Hade lie on the floor, unconscious.
As Persephone sank to her knees gasping, the child whimpered. The angel slowly stood and peered down on him. He lay curled up around a blue blanket with 'Harry' stitched in gold on it. She bent over and placed a kiss on the jagged slash on his forehead, sending her healing power to him. At her touch, he opened his eyes and look at her as she stood once again. He stared at her with eyes that were a piercing emerald green; the same eyes that stared up from the floor, beneath a cascade of fiery hair.
As she stroked the soft black hair on the orphan's head, Persephone heard the rumble of a motorcycle's engine, the sound shook her out of her contemplations. She looked around the room and replayed the scene in her head. The anger and sadness overwhelmed her, and she could not stay any longer.
With a sob, she fled the house, flying out of a window as a dark-haired figure dismounted from a large black bike and ran toward the house.
Persephone flew, crying, until she could keep herself going no longer. Then she fell, plummeting to the earth and landing on the moors. She lay sobbing in the fragrant heather until she fell asleep.
There she lay when Death found her.
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This is my first stab at HP fiction, any conctructivecriticism is appreciated, please do not be rude and simply say, "This sucked!" Try to give me reasons and help me fix what is wrong. If you liked it, please let me know! I need a little ego-stroking now and then. :) I hope you enjoyed!