Thread: Loving Death  (Harry Potter)

It was late, nearly midnight when the man finally came. Arthur Weasley was so scared he was nearly wetting his pants as he waited in the dark warehouse. He was there on orders of Dumbledore of course, hire the best, the old man had ordered. He had a case, a muggle briefcase full of muggle money, which they had traded with dozens of Galleons. There was enough money to sway any muggle to kill, and Arthur could only hope that it was enough to assure this, Shadowbane, that working for him was a good idea. He jumped, violently as a door swung open and the Assassin walked in, and he was anything but what Arthur had expected... it was a boy, a thin, tall, reed of a BOY. Said boy was tall, almost five foot ten and was utterly beautiful, he wasn't masculine, or feminine, he was a delicate balance of both that nearly made it impossible to tell what he was, which was not helped by his black, ink black hair that framed his face in a loose pile of bangs, the rest of it pulled back into a tight braid that fell nearly to his ankles. His eyes where as green as sparkling emeralds, but held no warmth, they where cold, emotionless, eyes that told Arthur that this child would slaughter him without a though, or a care. He was wearing all black, even the buckle on his belt was painted black so that it would not shine on any light. Arthur Weasley. the boy stated, his voice cold, uncaring, emotionless, just like his eyes. you have a job for me I am told, you brought the money? he demanded his eyes flicking to the briefcase as Arthur swallowed thickly, told Shadowbane the target, the amount of money in the briefcase and nearly collapsed in relief when Shadowbane took the money, agreed to the mark, and left. Hours later found Shadowbane at the edge of a forest watching the white Mansion as people shifted and moved inside. Shadowbane was the best in his field, when someone dangerous needed to be killed it was Shadowbane who was summoned. He had skills, talents that where not... natural, he could go undetected, even when the light shone on him and people stared right at him. It was not stealth, or skill, it was something... else. Shadowbane had never bothered figuring out what it was, it just was. Still, he sat in the tree, sharpening a blade as he studied the house, trying to decide whether he really wanted to do this or not... he had a bad feeling about the house, and he always listened to his gut feelings... but this, this place... there was something that also urged him inside, it was a conflicting set of feelings and that was not something Shadowbane was used to... so, he decided to go with the money, always listen to the money. So, he slid the knife back into his boot, plucked out the Glock from his belt and checked to make sure it was loaded. He preferred knives, he liked to get up close and personal, but he wanted a gun with him on this one. He had a sinking feeling that he was going to need it. He darted across the lawn, the noon day sun shining down on him as he paused glancing in the window where the people where sitting, three of them white haired and far too beautiful for their own good. He licked his lips, forcing his heartbeat to slow, calming himself, he was excited, so excited, they where sitting there, oblivious to their fates, unaware of him, so completely unaware that it was almost too easy... so why did he still feel so bad? It wasn't guilt, he'd killed prettier, and younger, so why?... wait...where was the fourth one!? There was supposed to be four people at that Breakfast table, he yanked his gun out, spun, his gun aimed, two handed, at the person who was facing him. son of a bitch. it wasn't often that someone could sneak up on Shadowbane, he was impressed despite himself.