Harry Potter and Justice League do not belong to me. Nor does the DC Universe.
English is not my mother tongue.
Chapter 1
In the void between worlds, where there is neither light nor darkness, only the eternal silence of the Infinite, Harry Potter waited. Here, in the point of non-existence where the echoes of time are lost, he always felt suspended between the real and the unreal. It was not the first time he had waited there; he knew absolute absence as if it were an old friend. And perhaps, in a certain sense, it was.
He closed his eyes—not that it made any difference in that space without substance. He was waiting for Death. The true Death, the Death of the Endless, whose touch was cold as the waters of the Styx and whose voice was sweet like a secret. Death, who was a person, a concept, a primordial force—and also the only constant in his new existence.
Memories flooded him. He had walked through so many worlds since he became the "Master of Death." The irony made him smile; he was no master, after all. He was a servant, an agent of balance, an extension of her will. The title that so impressed others was, in fact, a kind of shackle, a bond with something that transcended even the concept of power.
Harry remembered the moment when he began to understand his condition—the moment when he realized he wasn't aging. Years passed, but his face remained young, his unruly hair as rebellious as ever. He watched his friends grow old, one by one, until they began to leave, like leaves falling from a tree at the breath of the wind. First, it was Hagrid, then Kingsley, Hermione, and Ron… Ginny, his dear Ginny. His children, Sirius and Luna, grown and beloved, were no longer there.
When Teddy died, Harry could no longer bear it. He crossed the Veil in the Department of Mysteries—the translucent barrier that always held so much fascination and fear. He sought an end, wishing to find peace alongside those who had departed. But Death refused him. Instead, he found her on the other side, smiling as always, with that almost understanding, almost pitying smile.
"You are mine now, Harry Potter," she had said in a soft voice, carrying the weight of countless centuries. "The Deathly Hallows don't make you a god, don't make you a lord. They made you my servant. You cannot die, for you are the one who must ensure that death occurs when and where it is needed."
Since then, he had walked between worlds. He saw cities of marble raised by beings who thought themselves immortal; he watched civilizations decay into ruins while mortals tried to cheat the inevitable. He witnessed the destruction of a planet inhabited only by shadows; he saw a shimmering forest of crystal where the trees whispered stories of lost ages. And in every world, he found those who tried to cheat Death, who challenged the natural cycle, attempting to extend their lives, destroying the balance of the cosmos.
In one world, Harry found a sorceress who had bathed in the waters of a mystical lake, believing it would make her eternal. Instead, she became an insubstantial reflection, trapped between the mirrors of time. Harry watched as she screamed in terror upon realizing she would live forever in her own illusion, until he finally brought her the relief of oblivion. In another, he found a city of men who had learned to fuse their souls with machines, extending their consciousnesses for countless centuries. They were blind to the suffering of the mortals around them, consuming entire worlds in the quest for immortality. Harry brought Death to them, one by one, separating flesh from metal until their souls were returned to the eternal cycle.
In each mission, in each execution of the inevitable, Harry understood more of the task that had been given to him. He grasped the necessity of balance, of fair measure, of the final point that gave meaning to the text of existence. In every farewell, he felt a small part of himself being carved away, shaped by eternity.
And there was Death. There was always Death. Her touch was like a balm after the labors from one world to another. When she came to meet him, with her smile and her deep eyes, he allowed himself to forget. They shared words and silences; she told him stories that no one else knew, secrets of universes and realms yet unrevealed. She loved him with the tranquility of someone who had known all pain and all joy. And Harry, in time, learned to love her too, in a way that could only exist between beings destined to walk together on the threshold of the end and the beginning.
The void around him began to contract, vibrating with a subtle energy that heralded her arrival. Harry felt the nonexistent air around him change, the texture of nothingness becoming denser
, almost palpable. He knew this feeling well; it was like a pause in existence itself, the prelude to something infinitely more real than anything around him. She was coming.
Then she appeared. Death. Not as a grim and terrifying figure, but as a young woman with pale skin, large, dark eyes like a bottomless well, but with a softness that contradicted her title. Her hair was as black as midnight, cascading around her delicate face, with a slight touch of disorder that always seemed intentional. The mark, similar to the eye of Horus, around her right eye only increased her presence. She wore a simple black top, tight pants, and worn boots; around her neck hung the ankh, the symbol of eternal life, subtly glowing in the darkness of the void.
At the sight of her, Harry felt his heart beat faster. She approached with that characteristic smile—a mix of sympathy and light humor, as if she were perpetually amused by something only she understood.
"Was I late?" she asked, her voice soft, almost musical, with an accent that seemed out of time, a melody in itself.
"No," Harry replied, smiling back. "I was just... reflecting."
"You always are," she said with a sparkle in her eyes, moving towards him with light, almost dancing steps. "But I won't judge you for that, it's not like you have a choice."
Harry let out a short laugh, unsure if it was out of nervousness or pleasure. "No, I really don't."
She stopped in front of him, and her cold fingers—but surprisingly soft—touched his face, tracing the contours with a tenderness that transcended mere physical gesture. "You know you don't need to pretend, Harry. I know how much this weighs on you. Immortality isn't the gift many think it is."
"And yet, here I am," he responded, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch, feeling the comforting chill of her fingers against his skin. "Always coming back to you."
She smiled, a smile that was both sad and sincere, and pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips met, and in that touch was centuries of understanding, shared suffering, and relief. Harry tasted her—a mix of something sweet and bitter, like honey and ashes, a reminder of the duality of her very existence.
As they kissed, he felt the universe around them tremble slightly, as if even infinity was witnessing that moment. His hands slid down her back, feeling the firmness of the muscles beneath the soft skin, while her hands explored his back, pulling him closer.
They lay in the void, and there, in the endless darkness, her body against his felt like the only thing that existed. She was light, agile, her touch both delicate and determined. Every movement of hers seemed perfectly in sync with the pulse of the universe, as if their dance was an intrinsic part of the very flow of existence.
The stunning form of Death moved sensually over Harry's body. Her soft, cold kisses trailed across every inch of his skin. Harry, breathing heavily, pulled her closer, guiding her lips to his neck, where she planted warm kisses that contrasted with her usual coolness. The intimacy between them transcended the ordinary—a union between life and death, the eternal cycle to which Harry was now bound.
"Are you enjoying this, Harry?" she whispered with an enigmatic smile, her voice soft but laden with the weight of eternity.
Harry let out a deep sigh, his body responding to her delicate touch. "You always know exactly what to do..." he murmured, his voice faltering as the pleasure inside him grew.
Death smiled warmly as her lips slid down his abdomen, her touch becoming more intimate as she moved lower down his body. Her cold fingers caressed his thighs, creating a contrast with the heat radiating from Harry's body. She leaned forward and, with a skilled movement, took Harry's pulsing member into her mouth.
The sensation made Harry arch his back, a deep groan escaping his lips. Her skill was unparalleled, each movement of her lips and tongue perfectly orchestrated to draw out the maximum pleasure from him. Death wasn't just pleasuring him; she was worshipping him, slowly and deliberately, each slide of her mouth sending waves of heat and pleasure through his body.
The pressure increased as she took him deeper, her throat enveloping him completely. Harry could feel her muscles working around his member, the sensation tight and warm, contrasting with her ethereal coolness. He gripped her dark hair, gently guiding her as his hips moved involuntarily, pushing himself deeper into her.
"You... deserve this..." she murmured between motions, her voice vibrating around him, heightening the pleasure even more.
Each time she descended further, taking him entirely, Harry felt himself losing control of his own body. His groans deepened, his hands gripping her tightly as the tension in his abdomen grew, his climax approaching rapidly. Heat surged up his spine, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.
With one final movement, she took him even deeper, and Harry couldn't hold back anymore. A guttural moan escaped his lips as he exploded inside her, his body trembling with intense pleasure. Spurt after spurt of his hot seed filled her throat, and Death took it all, without hesitation. She held him firmly, not missing a single movement, keeping him completely inside her until he was entirely spent.
Harry's breath faltered, his body slowly relaxing as the pleasure left him completely sated. Death's mouth moved slowly, cleaning the last remnants of his release as she rose, her dark eyes shining with a mix of desire and satisfaction. She licked her lips, her gesture elegant and calculated, as if savoring every moment.
She moved closer again, lying beside him, her cold fingers tracing the contours of his chest as she smiled enigmatically.
"You always come back to me, Harry," she said softly, her voice full of affection and an eternal promise. She leaned in to kiss him again, their lips meeting in a gentle touch, the taste of the moment still lingering on her lips.
Harry was still breathless, his body relaxing after the intense climax, but Death wasn't done. Her deep eyes, full of eternal mystery, watched him with growing desire. She smiled as she moved again, sliding her slender, pale body over his, pressing herself against Harry's chest. The warmth of her touch, mixed with the coolness of her presence, reignited new desires in him.
"Now, it's my turn," she whispered with a mischievous smile, as she positioned herself over him, her hips provocatively rubbing against his.
Harry let out a low groan, feeling the excitement quickly returning to his body. He gripped Death's hips, his hands exploring the softness of her skin as she positioned herself over his now-hardening member, slowly guiding him inside her. The tight, delicious warmth of her entrance enveloped him completely, making Harry arch his back again in response to the overwhelming pleasure.
Death let out a soft sigh of pleasure, her hands resting on his chest as she began to move slowly, rising and falling on top of him. Each movement was precise and calculated, as if the very eternity depended on that moment. The connection between them ran deep, beyond the physical—it was the meeting of two opposing forces, life and death, united in an intimate and eternal dance.
Harry wrapped his arms around her, his hands gripping her back firmly as she increased the pace. Death's body moved with supernatural grace, each of her movements intensifying the pleasure coursing through him. The heat between them grew with every passing moment, her soft moans blending with his as they surrendered completely to the moment.
She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as her lips found his in a burning kiss, full of desire and passion. Harry tasted her—a mix of sweetness and something deeper, almost indescribable, as if he were tasting the very essence of existence. He deepened the kiss, their tongues intertwining as she continued to move on top of him, increasing the intensity.
"You're mine, Harry," she murmured between kisses, her hips moving faster now, riding him harder. "You always have been, and you always will be."
Harry could only groan in response, his body reacting instinctively to the rhythm she set. The sensation of being inside her was overwhelming, each of her movements bringing him closer to another climax. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, an eternal dance that seemed to transcend time and space.
Death's moans grew louder, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the pleasure building inside her. Harry felt her heat intensify, her walls tightening around him as she approached her own peak. He held her more firmly, his thrusts becoming more desperate, deeper.
Finally, with a loud, prolonged moan, Death reached her climax, her body trembling on top of Harry as waves of pleasure coursed through her. The tightness around him pushed him over the edge, and with one final deep thrust, Harry gave in to the pleasure as well. His body arched as he released his seed deep inside her, filling her completely.
They remained intertwined for a few moments, both panting and satisfied, their bodies still connected as the warmth of post-climax surrounded them. Death collapsed onto Harry, her head resting on his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart.
She lifted her face to him, her deep, mysterious eyes still shining with satisfaction. "You will always be mine, Harry," she repeated in a soft whisper, kissing him again with tenderness.
Harry, exhausted but content, wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. "Always," he whispered back, knowing that somehow that truth would echo through eternity.
They stayed there, embraced, enjoying each other's company for a long while. Then, when the nothingness around them settled and the silence returned, she rested her head on his chest. Her large eyes watched him with that unique depth, an expression that was both affectionate and eternally wise.
"Harry," she whispered, her voice almost a sigh. "Sometimes, I think I've become something lighter with you by my side. Someone with whom I can share eternity, even if only in fleeting moments."
Harry laughed softly. "And I'm the fool who keeps coming back, no matter where you send me."
"It's not foolishness," she replied, her fingers gently tracing the symbol of the ankh around her neck. "It's love. Love for balance. Love for all things that have an end. And love for me, perhaps."
Harry sighed, holding her hand against his chest. "Definitely for you."
She leaned in to kiss him again, a kiss that was both a farewell and a promise. "It's time to go, Harry," she murmured against his lips, with a tone of sadness and acceptance. "There's another world waiting for you, and you know what you have to do."
He nodded, feeling the warmth of her body move away slightly as the void around him began to pulse once more, ready to send him to a new destination. "I know. And I will always come back."
"I'll be waiting," she replied with a tender smile, before closing his eyes with her fingertips in a gesture full of affection and power. "Until next time, my Herald."
And with that, he felt the familiar sensation of being pulled away, torn from the void and cast towards the next world, the sound of her soft laughter echoing in his ears.
If you want to read one-shots and chapters of my other stories before they are published publicly, go to my p-atreon . com (slash) katabrok