The Headmaster's Only Mistake

The Master of Death

Suddenly, there was a bright flash, and on top of the Hallows stood a hooded creature.

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Harry could feel his eyes widen comically at the hooded creature. It seemed to be floating a few inches off the ground and left no shadow. Death was quite tall, around 6'2, and like most imagined him, carried a sharp scythe. But, differentiated to the drawings, his hands didn't look like bone, instead had thin, elegant fingers of albino white skin. His nails also seemed to be perfectly manicured. Instead of the typical ragged cloak, often compared to those of dementors, he wore elegant black robes made of the finest acromantula silk, embroidered with gold and silver thread. The hood was also pulled up and he was facing down, so you couldn't see his face.

"Death?" Harry called. Death finally looked up, letting his hood down, and Harry gasped in astonishment. Death, was possibly, the most beautiful thing Harry had ever laid eyes on. Handsome, yes, but mostly beautiful. His white hair was messily styled and hid his icy blue eyes and perfect eyebrows slightly. Freckles and a slight natural blush covered his sharp cheeks and smooth nose. His soft lips were slightly parted and the only thing that interrupted the pink softness seemed to be a ring on his bottom lip. He also had a pierced ear.

For some reason, the more Harry looked at him, the warmer he could feel his cheeks growing. Death smirked when he realized that.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, his voice much deeper than the young wizard expected. "You've finally decided to call me."

"I'm sorry Death, I didn't know how." Death shrugged before walking over and plopping himself in one of the chairs beside Harry. Ragnok decided to speak up at that moment.

"I will be returning to my office, when you are done introducing yourselves, ring the bell." With that, the small creature hopped off his chair, gave Harry a bell, and left the room.

"Do you know how long I've been dying to meet you?" Death asked Harry once they were alone.

"Since I got the Hallows?" Harry guessed. Death let out a throaty chuckle.

"I've been waiting for eons, darling." Death corrected.

"Eons?" Harry was too confused for the pet name to process in his mind.

"Yes, eons."

"Why?"

"You humans seem to have the idea that by getting my Hallows, you become my master. That is very much incorrect. You become my equal, my partner. You become my mate." Death paused to let those words sink in. Harry's eyes widened.

"I-I-I'm your mate? As in soulmate? Because I have the Hallows?" Harry stuttered.

"Yes, my soulmate, but not because you have the Hallows. Long ago, you, Harry James Potter Evans, specifically, were destined to be my mate, holder of the Hallows; it was one of the reasons you didn't die that night at Godric's Hollow and the only reason I showed myself to your ancestors all those centuries ago." Death looked down, afraid of his mate's reaction. He suddenly felt a warm hand on top of his own and he looked up.

Death was about to say something but was stopped by warm lips on his. Harry could've sworn he felt fireworks erupt inside of him as his lips connected with his soulmate's. It felt practically magical, something he had never felt with Cho, Ginny, or that one time he had kissed Hermione in third year; or those times he had kissed Cedric in fourth and Draco in sixth.

Harry felt a long hand cup his cheek and bring him closer to the deity. He felt teeth nibble on his bottom lip, asking for an entrance, and once he gave it, a tongue slipped in and started exploring his mouth. It wasn't until he needed to breathe that he separated with great regret from the other boy in front of him. Harry could feel his cheeks begin to burn so he looked away. He could hear death giggle slightly at his antics.