Flirting with Death
There was the Veil.
Then, there was darkness, and silence, and lack-of-smell, and the feel of no return.
And then, she emerged from the darkness.
And Sirius Black could not believe his eyes. Because, let's face it, the lady was hot.
----
She walked towards him casually: her hands in the pockets of her black jeans; a silver ankh dangling from her neck, merrily swinging with her each step; a large, cheerful smile on her face and a floppy hat on her head.
"Hello there, handsome," she said.
"Hello there, hot stuff," Sirius replied, "Where have you been my whole life?"
She crooked her head. "Never too far. After all, you've been so relentlessly flirting with me. How could I ever leave you for long?"
Sirius gave out a short, barking laugh. "'That crazy Sirius Black, he has always been courting Death,' they will say. 'And he finally met her,' they will say. Harry told me," he mused, "that he was scared of me when he first saw me. He thought that I was your omen!"
"Did he?" Death took interest. "He's so cute sometimes! He was always so cute, even as a baby–"
"And you would know, wouldn't you?" Sirius interrupted slowly.
Death glared at him, "Now, don't you start giving me this shit about taking away his parents, Sirius. You know this isn't how it works."
Sirius looked away, careful not to meet her eyes. "No," he said, "I suppose it isn't. But, you know, all this," he shrugged, and not finding a proper word, said, "stuff? I really wanted to end it. For Harry's sake. I wanted to be responsible. I really did. He deserved it."
He was silent for a moment, and then asked pleadingly:
"I don't suppose–?" He did not finish.
Death watched him for a moment. "No," she said at last – not perhaps particularly coldly or unemotionally, but still very firmly, "You may leave a ghost of yourself, but you cannot return."
That put Sirius' mind on a new track: he had not thought of that possibility before. "Do you think it would help if I left a ghost?" he asked.
Her black eyes continued to watch him calmly. "No, from my experience, no."
"No, you're right, it wouldn't," Sirius agreed, "He must heal and go on..." Another thought crossed his mind, "He's slated to become very good at it, isn't he?"
Death shrugged. "He's not the first, or the last. But yes, he is."
They were both silent for a moment; and then, Death said, "He will have help, you know."
"Yes," Sirius replied, "Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys and perhaps even Remus–" He broke off, and then added bitterly, "In fact, perhaps he didn't even need his irresponsible failure of a godfather–"
Death glared at him again. "And now, you're starting to mope," she said angrily, "You were not a failure, he loved it when you were with him, and you know all this. So, please stop pitying yourself." She sighed, exasperated.
"Yes, m'lady," he said obediently. A peculiar notion occurred to him at that moment: she really did seem to have a lot of experience with it, didn't she?
And then, suddenly, he grinned. Perhaps things would yet turn out well–
He looked at his companion with new eyes and asked, "Well, hot stuff – where now to?"
She took out her right hand from her pocket, put it out towards him, and smiled.
"Take my hand, Sirius Black."
He did.
And then, there was only the sound of her wings.