Script? Bleep the Script!

Angering Death is generally a bad idea. The reason for that is, well, it's Death. Pissing it off generally leads to bad things. Unfortunately, Harry's family has a habit of pissing of Death, starting with the three brothers that magicked up a bridge over a river, going through to a Dark Lord that made soul containers to beat death, and ending with Harry.

Harry had collected all three Deathly Hallows and become Master of Death. Death didn't usually mind, but on occasion it had mood swings, and in one of Death's mood swings, Harry had said something wrong. He wasn't even sure what it was that he said wrong, but Death had been furious.

Which led to his current predicament.

He had gone to sleep as Harry Potter, and woken up as Bella Swan. On an airplane. On the way to Forks. Thankfully, he, or rather she, had the sense of mind to put up a notice-me-not (small enough not to effect the plane's function) before she let loose with a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, and then pass out from shock.

She had read the books once. It wasn't going to happen to her. If Death expected her to follow through with the original script, it had another thing coming. Edward Cullen would stay the fuck away from her if he knew what was good for him.

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Edward Cullen did not know what was good for him.

On the plus side, Harry had made friends with the rest of the Cullen kids, who thought Edward's attempt to woo her were cute, or at least thought her attempts to cause harm the immortally seventeen year old were cute. So far she had thrown him through a wall, slammed his face into a locker and a desk, and given him a kick to the balls six times (magically enhanced, of course, so as not to hurt herself).

He didn't get the hint that she wasn't interested.

And then Rosalie thought it would be funny to invite her to their house.

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"Bella, this is Carlisle and Esme, our adoptive parents. Carlisle, Esme, this is Bella," Jasper introduced them.

"She's my girlfriend," Edward said with a smile, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Fuck that shit," Harry said, elbowing the vampire in the face hard, causing the venom that served as the vampire's blood to start pouring out of his nose.

Harry ignored Alice chirping, "Language, Bella."

"She doesn't know what she's saying," Edward mumbled, trying to stop the flow of venom.

"Do I need to kick you in the balls again, Pervert?"

"Bella, language," Alice chirped again.

"I'll stop cursing when he gets a fucking clue."

"You'll be cursing for all of eternity at this rate," Emmett said.

Edward's eyes lit up, "Eternity?"

"No," Harry said, picking Edward up and slamming him into the dining room table, shattering it into pieces. She then turned to Esme and Carlisle, and smiled, "I'll pay for the table!"

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"She loves me," Edward murmured dreamily, when Emmett finally drove Bella home. Carlisle had managed to find another table, so Bella could have some of Esme's cooking.

"Yes, Edward," Rosalie said, sarcastically. "That's why she tried stabbing you in the face with her steak knife, and her butter knife, and her fork, and her spoon, and why she shoved those seven broken chair legs up your ass, and then beat you with the eighth."