the gift of fear (tomarry) (harry x death)

interlude 1, harry potter: suffering is essential

Harry Potter is dead. For some reason, it is still hard to believe. A part of him expected something -- something different, something to happen. A last minute save. Some great, secret plan from Dumbledore. Something unrealistic and otherworldly, but not for him.

Because, you know, he is Harry Potter. He's the boy who lived; it is not really right for him to die.

But none of that happened, and Harry Potter is a dead boy, barely a man.

He is in the train station when he dies. His skin is cold and his insides are disgustingly warm and he thinks that this is what a corpse would feel like, if corpses could feel anything. He certainly does feel dead.

And is this it? he thinks, looking around. Is King's Cross really it? That doesn't seem right. But then again, would anything?

"You look unsettled," says a voice from behind him. "I promise, I am not that bad of company."

Harry whirls around -- only to stop, stare, slack-jawed, in awe.

Before him is the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Man? Is that right? He seems hardly defined by such binary terms. He is free from the restriction, from all forms of it, and that freedom is evident in just the way he moves. This is an unrestrained man. Is there anything more attractive?

The man smiles, showing off spiked, pearly white teeth. "Come back to me now," he says, his voice like velvet. "I am flattered."

"I," says Harry, failing for words. "Are you God?" he blurts.

He keeps smiling that God-forsaken smile, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "God, yes. I go by Death. But you, my dear," he cups Harry's face in his hands and Harry melts under his touch, "can call me whatever you want."

"Okay," says Harry, voice trembling. "God."

God leans in close, their breaths mingling. "I've got to take you back now," he says, quietly. "Are you alright with that?"

Harry's soul yearns for this man he's just met, positively sings for it. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course," soothes God. "We will do great things together, Harry, but first, I need you alive. Be aware, Harry; this will hurt a bit."

The first of the many scars God gives Harry; the one that reincarnated him; the one that is the source of his rebirth. It is merely a scribble of a scar carved into where his heart is at. It hurts, but the only other option is to die. Harry will take what he can get.

God says that there's something ugly in Harry. Something zombie; something that should be dead, but isn't. It's the reason they get along so well.

"Are you talking about my horcrux? The one inside of me?" Harry asks, confused. "I thought I destroyed it by dying."

"You did," amends God. "And you revived it by living again."

"Then how is Voldemort not still alive?"

"I deemed him unnecessary; I rid ourselves of him," explains God.

Harry frowns deeply. "I don't like the idea of something dark existing in me," bemoans Harry. "I don't like the idea of killing the spares, either."

"It's okay," says God. "You'll get used to it."

"I don't like that idea, either."

"Trust me," says God. "All will work out swell."

Though Harry is still unconvinced, still mildly unnerved at God's promises, with God's arms around him, he cannot help but say, "Okay. I trust you. I love you."