[Hazel potter: Mistress of death] One-shots

Hazel x Thanatos/Death

It was pathetic really.

She had defeated a dark lord, slayed a basilisk, warded off a thousand dementors while simultaneously performing a spell that even most adults couldn't perform, entered a tournament meant for people older than her and more skilled – against her will, might she add – and somehow won, defeated a dark lord again, time-travelled, and is currently is working on defeating a way too old light lord.

The worst – or maybe best? – part is that she's sure she's done a bunch of other cool stuff that she just couldn't remember at the moment.

And yet here she was, pathetically pining over a thousand-year-old deity, who just also happened to be death.

Hazel had to bite back a sigh at the sadness she felt for herself.

And wasn't that pathetic?

With her cheek resting over her fist, hazel let her eyes roam over the admittedly hot body of the deity while he was preoccupied.

The Asian looking man was tall at around 180 cm, making him taller than her since she was 173cm, only because she wasn't malnourished in this life.

Hazel wouldn't deny that he was also attractive, he had broad shoulders and thick muscles, not overly muscular but not lean muscles either, it was a nice in between. He also had a sharp jawline and a good bone structure. With doe eyes and his thin lips.

Thin kissable lips.

Hazel thought to herself as her eyes soon started to move downwards but quickly caught herself before she started to stare.

The brunette internally sighed as she wondered how she got from seeing the older man – could he even be called that? – as a parental figure to hopelessly pining over him.

Or perhaps they had always been there, stewing from the moment she met him, someone who genuinely wanted to help her and not use her, even if it was out of obligation.

Her eyes roamed his body as she admired him.

The way his suit was tight on him in certain angles and hugged his body in a way that had both men and women drooling, how they stretched over his flawless skin, giving away his well sculptured body, reminiscent of the statues of Greek and their beauty.

The way the corners of his eyes would crinkle slightly as he gave a genuine smile or his warm laugh which only served to produce more butterflies in her stomach.

The way his arms produced a feeling of warmth within her whenever they wrapped around her n a hug, always so gentle as if afraid she would break.

And how she would never be able to have any of that, knowing that he would never glance twice in her direction. Hazel was not stupid nor dense enough to say that the deity did not care for her – because he did, extremely too.

But not in the way she wanted. Not as a lover.

Too caught up in her thoughts, she didn't even notice the tears that had started to stream down her face.

But even occupied, the other occupant of the room did.

With a frown of worry, death took long, quick strides to make his way over to his mistress.

It showed just how much she was caught up in her thoughts when she didn't take notice the deity despite him standing in front of her.

"Hazel?" Asked the raven haired man in concern, his deep voice echoing off the walls of the quiet library in the Black house.

Hazel's head snapped up, revealing her red-rimmed eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Thanatos wasted no time in kneeling down in front of the chair in which she sat on.