Dimitrov Mannor

Tide apparated to his family home. He tugged on his left shirt sleeve, making sure that Dark Mark was covered properly. He sighed and turned to Death, "Don't say anything to my parents. Just smile and be polite." He turned to face the door then turned back to Death, "And make sure that tattoo on your wrist is covered!"

Death scowled. "It's not a tattoo."

Tide turned back to the door, opening it and waking inside, motioning for Deayh to follow suit. Death entered the lavish manor, looking at all the antique Bulgarian furniture. "You've a lovely manor Dimitrov. I didn't get to have a proper look at it last time I was here."

Tide made a half-hearted grunting noise in response. "Mom! You home?" he called out in Bulgarian.

"Yes Tide, I'm here in the kitchen!" called Hanna in Bulgarian from somewhere on the other side of the manor.

"Follow me," Tide said to Death. He started walking towards the sound of his mother.

Once they entered the lavish kitchen they spotted Hanna at a table eating a slice of cake. She stood up immediately and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Oh, hello. Tide you didn't tell me you had a friend over. I'm Hanna, Tide's mother."

Death smiled pleasantly, bowing slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Dimitrov. I have heard wonderful things about you. Tide talks about you quite often." He laughed slightly, "I apologize, where are my mannors? I'm Death Dolohov."

Tide looked like he wanted to punch Death. "Death, iksnay on the namikay!" he hissed.

Hanna looked at the pair, "It's quite alright Tide. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Death, was it?"

Death nodded. Tide grabbed Death's arm, "We're going up to my room, don't bother us please." Hanna nodded, "Of course. Have fun you two."

Tide pulled Death out of the kitchen and up to his attic room.

i dont like where this is going..

Awesome! We get a new chew toy! Let's get him... Ahriman chided from the back of Death's mind.

Tide moved some things around, clearing the floor. "What are we going to be doing? Practicing spells?"

Death laughed. "No. We're going to talk. You're not ready for anything more than that."

Tide sighed, "Fine then." He sat down on his bed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Blood status. What is your blood status?"

Tide was taken aback. He didn't expect a simple topic like that, he expected something like Dart Arts and murder. "Um, I'm pure blood."

Death nodded. "Do you like muggles?"

"Well, I don't mind them. They just go about, doing normal stuff, living out their lives."

Death nodded, "I see, that's quite unfortunate." He turned and began to walk down the stairs leading out of the room.

Tide stood. "What do you mean!? Where are you going?"

Death stopped and looked up at Tide. "I'm going hunting. You're welcome to join me." He continued down the stairs.

We're going hunting! Yes! I'm gonna kill something. I haven't killed anything in a long time.

Tide looked around his room, sighing. He heard Death's retreating footsteps walking down the hall to the next set of stairs. The snake on his wrist slithering around, tickling him slightly. He grabbed his wand and walked down the stairs after Death.

Death apparated in front of a building he never imagines he'd enter again. The large house loomed over him, medieval and unsettling. He couldn't bear to look at it longer than a few minutes. With a sigh he squared his shoulders and rang the door bell.

Not long after his finger touched the button did the door open. A sad looking man with graying hair stared at him, not really seeing him. "Hello, sir. My name is Death Dolohov."

The man's expression changed rapidly. He blinked and his saddened state turned furious. His shoulders tensed and his knuckles cracked from his grip on the doorknob. "How dare you show up at my doorstep after killing my son," he ground out between gritted teeth.

Death raised his hands and took a cautious step backwards. "I've never killed anyone in my life, I swear."

"Liar! You killed my son. Everyone knows it!"

So much pain was displayed on the man's face. Death blinked and let out the breath he didn't even realise he was holding. "Please, sir, hear me out. I was framed. I was nowhere near the quidditch pitch when your son fell off his broom. I was asleep in my common room. I don't know who killed your son, but it certainly wasn't me."

"A well practised speech. How long did it take you to think that one up?"

"It's the truth!"

"Sure it is kid. Do us all a favour and just leave. Leave and I won't call the Aurors on you." He closed the door in Death's face.

Death sighed and turned away from the building that once housed a brave Gryffindor boy with the dream of being a professional quidditch player one day.

A dream that will never come true.