Title: A Proposition
Rating: Teen for minor sexual references and some mild language.
Summary: Death didn't know what he was in for.
Better Summary: Death calls upon the sole thing that can tame a man: a woman.
Author's Note: A silly little ficlet written after Deathly Hallows. The title refers to the summoning of our fierce femme fatale. One-shot. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Death, he would be chained to a wall where he could do no harm, and the world would die of over-population. If I owned the second protagonist mentioned in the story, he would be chained to my bed. –Just kidding. 'Lina would kill me.
"A heart attack?"
The question hung in the silence of the blindingly white room.
"Of all the bloody deaths in the Wizarding World, you gave me a heart attack?" The hooded figure across the table from her flinched. "For Merlin's sake! We're Wizards and Witches. We have wands. If I was going to go this soon, you at least could've let me die from a bludger gone awry, or an escaped convict of Azkaban, or one of George's new products. –Hm. Yes, the last one would've been the best option. Would've made for good blackmail in the future." She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
"We needed you here as fast as possible. I panicked!"
"You panicked?" Apparently that answer didn't suffice.
"You don't understand," Pleaded the figure across the table. She was tempted to smile; this was all too much.
"Oh. I don't understand? Well then, forgive me for not catching onto this whole scheme in the total of the ten minutes that I've bloody been here!" Again the cloak drew back. She thought he might be wincing. "Apparently, despite the fact that this mystery of yours baffles philosophers and fools alike for centuries on end, the instant that I arrive here, I'm supposed to comprehend my arrival, the reasoning behind it, and find legitimate ground to buy the bullocks that you're feeding me right now." Her spite was making him uneasy. Hah; she laughed in the face of Death.
"But we needed you here." Was he pleading again? Pitiful that Death groveled at the fearsome woman's feet. She wasn't the one who misunderstood. Though her temper was nasty, Angelina Johnson was not ruthless. Death seemed to think her dangerous, however.
"Excuse me? As if I wasn't needed in the world of the living?" She challenged, arching two beautiful, dark eyebrows.
"We needed you more!"
"You needed me more?" She repeated, pursing her lips disbelievingly at him. He fidgeted again. "In case you hadn't noticed, George, 'Leesh, Kates and Lee are all a bloody mess down there because someone decided to steal a good friend of ours—"
"Precisely!" Interrupted Death, drumming his skeletal fingers on the table between them uneasily.
"Precisely?" She repeated again, this time looking puzzled. Death opened his mouth to answer but before he could, a loud bang exploded outside the room, followed shortly after by shrieks of terror, then a familiarly voiced:
"Oi! Sorry 'bout that! My fault, my fault!"
Death sighed wearily and the cloak's hood fell away to reveal his white skull as he banged his head down on the desk in a swift, exhausted movement. Angelina thought she caught something along the lines of, "Not again…" beneath his breath. She looked slowly to the door and stood, knowing what was to come. She would've recognized that voice anywhere.
Just as she'd expected, the door burst open seconds later and in traipsed Fred Weasley with an armload of fireworks, a plastic crown sitting askew atop his head, wearing that infamous Weasley grin—the one he'd worn every time he'd shown up late to a date, or nearly forgotten an anniversary or played some terrible prank on her.
"Right sorry about all that, mate. Y' got any buckets in here? Maybe…buckets conveniently filled with water? Had a bit of an accident outside, n' I'm afraid I set yer lovely new curtains afire—" He might've wanted to say more on the subject, but at this point his eyes fell upon the woman seated across from Death and his grin only widened. "'Lina!" He cried enthusiastically, dropping the fireworks and swaggering toward her. The crown fell off in the middle of his second stride, but he left it.
As Fred wrapped his arms around her midsection tightly, lips scorching her ear with several inappropriate innuendos concerning how he'd rather be banging her than banging fireworks around, Death slowly raised his head to be eye-level with the former Chaser. "He's been driving us bloody insane."
"Us?" Angelina inquired.
Sighing irritably, the Gryffindor girl pressed on, "You're mad. This is ridiculous; isn't there some sort of God or something that you could voice your complaint to?" She quickly grasped Fred's hand, which was creeping stealthily below her spine.
"I've tried," Death retorted miserably.
Outside the room, a booming old voice called gleefully, "Hurry, child! The Hungarian Horntail one is about to blow!"
The Grim Reaper groaned. "I can't take it anymore. Please. Please. Scold him, beat him, tie him up, lock him in a closet—I don't care. Just keep him out of my hair."
"Y' don't have any hair t' keep me out of," Fred pointed out with an unavoidable smirk. Death narrowed his eyes at the twin in annoyance. Fred only rested his chin on Angelina's shoulder contently, nuzzled her ear, then continued, "If I were still alive, y'know, Georgie n' I could be workin' up a solution to that in the shop. Whaddya' think, Ange: Twin Tress Tonic."
"I think you need to brush up on those product-naming skills. You're a bit rusty."
"Eh. George was always the one comin' up with the good names."
"Out!" Cried Death. "Out! The both of you!"
"Oi. Yer a terrible host, mate."
Breaking away, Fred stooped to grab his crown while Angelina took care of the fireworks scattered on the floor. When they both stood, Fred ushered her towards the door, giving her a playful swat on the rear as they reached the threshold, just for good measure. (And because Death rolled his eyes and groaned in response, which only further delighted the Weasley.) "Right, y' heard the man. We'll be on our way, then." And with a flourished bow to the Reaper, he turned and shut the door behind himself and Angelina.
The two trailed away from the office and towards the long-bearded man outside, seated on the floor, setting up a new row of fireworks to set ablaze, paying no heed to the charred curtains still sizzling in the corner. He grinned up at Fred like a child might on Christmas, clearly enamored with the redhead as much as Angelina found herself to be. He certainly hadn't lost his touch.
Back inside the office, a loud explosion bounced off of the irksomely white walls, and Death gave a cry of distress as Fred looked back in puzzlement.
She hadn't lost hers either.
Grinning widely, Fred placed an affectionate kiss to her temple and cheered proudly, "That's m'girl!"
Author's Note: I do hope you smiled as much while reading that as I smiled while writing it. I couldn't resist the idea of God admiring and paling around with Fred. It kind of reminds me of the Sultan in Aladdin. Yeah. I'm a Disney nerd AND a Harry Potter nerd.
Expect to see this nerd more in the future if you regularly browse this genre of Fan Fiction.