A/N: I own nothing you recognize. Annabelle is mine.
The cloak swirled around his legs in a misty, ethereal way. He approached the child, kneeling at her side. His scythe vanished into a puff of white smoke, as to not scare the girl. She turned her head on the scratchy pillow to look at him with eyes suddenly clear and completely lucid. When he spoke, his voice was layered by millions of others, a voice that knew no age, only time and fate.
"Annabelle…" he whispered soothingly, cupping her pale cheek with one hand. "Anna, do you want to see your grandmother again? Do you want to go visit the angels?" she smiled longingly, blood pooling beneath her broken body.
"Yes…" she breathed, then coughed harshly. "I want to see Nana again…"
"Relax, child. Sleep. Your Nana will be on the other side, when you wake up. Would you like that?" Anna nodded, her breaths evening out slowly. Her chest fell still, beautiful steel gray eyes glassy in eternal sleep. Death reached up and closed her eyes with two fingers, sliding pale lids over farseeing eyes. Standing, Death took Anna's hand and tugged, pulling a pale white shadow of the girl with him. He scooped the 'child' into his arms and walked from the room. By the time he reached the room's threshold, he had vanished, leaving a cold body in his wake.
Death Eaters strode into the room, intending to drag the seven-year old child from the room. They encountered a little girl, eyes closed and a serene smile on her face. She had beaten them, but Anna had gone with all the dignity possible. Anna had encountered Death and gone peacefully.
A/N: I'm not happy with the ending. If anyone has any better suggestions, please tell. Flames will be used to warm my house in the barren wasteland that is Wisconsin in January. Happy readings.