Work Text:
The figure was shrouded in darkness, but even so Harry could see the vague outline of their body. Taller than most, but slim, though lacking in any obvious physical characteristics. Harry felt cowed by their presence, and the waves of sheer power that wafted off of them.
“Hello, Harry,” They said, the voice low and amused. Its sound caused a shiver to run down his spine, ringing in his ears as if it were a shout.
“Hi?” Harry replied, “Er– where am I?”
They didn’t move, not even an inch, and stood as if they had been practising such stillness for eternity.
“I died, didn’t I,” Harry continued, filling in the gaps himself when it appeared that the entity was not going to respond, “And this is the afterlife?”
The head– or where the head should be– inclined in agreement.
“And you are…”
“Death. I am Death.”
There it was again, the shiver inducing voice. It made Harry twitch, his neck and his hands almost aching at the sound.
“Okay,” Harry breathed, hurrying to his feet, “Okay. I’m going to need a bit of a favour.”
He waited for a reply, a sign that Harry could offer up his words.
There was none, but Harry continued nonetheless, “Can you, like, resurrect me? I really need to defeat Voldemort, and I don’t really want to linger here any longer than I have you. Shouldn’t it be… necessary to kill him? He’s messing with fate, you know.”
“No.”
“What?” Harry exclaimed, baffled. He was sure that his pitch would have worked.
“No. I shall not resurrect you.” Death responded, no hint of emotion in that stone cold voice. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, all at once.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, wincing, “Is there nothing I can do to persuade you?”
Death did not respond, the dark gap in his hood seeming to stare at Harry. The closer he looked, the less fuzzy its outline became. Less imperceivable, and more resembling the human figure.
But even as they stood there, locked into an uncomfortable silence, Harry’s mind whirred with the beginnings of a plan.
He hadn’t said no to the question, and so Harry took this as a challenge.
What was one thing that an immortal entity needed?
Some sweet, sweet ass.
Hence, Harry came to realise that the afterlife wasn’t all bad. He could summon anything he wanted, at any time, simply by wishing it into existence. He didn’t even need to buy it.
HOW TO SEDUCE DEATH
BY HARRY J. POTTER
STEP 1: Pick-Up Lines
The key to seduction lies in the conversation. One way of achieving a flirty exchange, is to initiate this by using pick up lines or inside jokes. To seduce Death, simply come up with several pick up lines that include the following themes:
- Murder
- Death
- The Afterlife
Harry bounded over to Death, coming to a halt in front of him, before folding his hands behind his back and clearing his throat:
“They say you can't cheat Death, but I'd sure love to cheat loneliness with your company,” Harry said, accompanying the line with a wink.
“You cannot cheat Death,” Death repeated, “Do not even try.”
For the first (and definitely not the last) time, Death vanished into thin air.
STEP 2: Equipment
The equipment needed for such an endeavour is quite simple to acquire, for those trapped in the afterlife. Simply hold out your hand, thinking with all your might of the item you need.
For this particular seduction, I tried many different clothing items and kink specific objects…
“Hi Death!” Harry shouted, waving his hands in the air to summon the enigmatic entity. They floated, rather than walked, across the plain and towards where Harry stood with a large, excited grin on his face.
This was his first attempt, and Harry was certain that it would succeed.
He’d tamed his unruly hair with a wondrous brand not created until the 24th century, slicking it back into a style he’d seen on Sirius. Instead of a ratty old t-shirt, worn and broken, he was wearing a fitted, black item that clung to his skin. His jeans had been replaced by a nicer, newer version with rips in the knees that clung in an equally fitted way to his thighs.
Harry looked better than he ever had before, and all he needed to do now was seduce.
“Harry Potter,” Death stated, stopping a few feet away.
He took a step forward, injecting it with Malfoy-esque swagger, “They say Death is the next great adventure. Mind if I join you on that journey?”
“I am afraid you are unable to visit Albus Dumbledore at the moment,” Death intoned, “He has another visitor.”
“That’s not what I–” Harry objected, but Death had vanished an instant later. Was he not wowed by Harry’s new appearance?
Harry summoned up his courage, only minutes later, to try a different attempt.
Once, he had come across Dean Thomas dressing up in girl's clothes in the common room. His boyfriend, Seamus, had found it rather attractive.
Maybe Death would, too.
After trying on several different items, Harry settled on a short, black skirt that fell far too high up his thighs and a dark crop top that revealed the slightest amount of midriff. He had attempted to wear some makeup, but his attempts had been futile. If only Hermione were there to lecture him on the proper application of eyeliner.
He felt a burst of confidence at his latest outfit and he smoothed down the fabric before calling over Death once again.
“Death! Come here!”
The entity appeared from thin air, tendrils of black mist forming around him.
“You called,” Death said, giving no outward impression that he was impressed with Harry’s look.
“I'm not afraid of the unknown, especially if it means getting to know you better, Death,” He flirted, smirking and holding his arms out to the side to give the entity a better look.
“There is no more to know, now that you are dead,” Death replied, a waft of air floating over Harry at his words, “But not being afraid is an admirable trait. Did you have any more concerns?”
“Yes, actually,” Harry crooned, moving so that he was almost touching the figure, “I was wondering if you would take me to dinner.”
“I do not eat.”
And he vanished, once again, leaving Harry thoroughly stumped. Maybe the third time’s the charm.
It wasn’t. Nor was the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh… or eleventh. Harry tried everything he could possibly imagine, from sex swings to swimming costumes of a variety of forms.
Death just wasn’t interested.
But Harry had one last idea, one last plan of seduction. For the first time, on Harry’s ninth attempt, he had come face to face with Death’s scythe in all its glory. (That had been the time when Harry had interrupted him while he collected a soul, but Death hadn’t seemed that upset.)
STEP 3: A Gift
To properly woo anyone, a good start is to give them something they want. Whether that be jewellery, tickets to their favourite concert, or their own scythe. Evidently, I chose the latter for Death. If I had something that he wanted, would he want me? Could we exchange services?
This, paired with the perfect outfit, is surely the way to seduce Death…
One thing that Harry realised rather quickly, was that Death didn’t expect anyone to summon his scythe.
He smirked to himself, as he felt the weapon drop into his hand. It was lighter than expected, with a comfortable handle, and Harry had to restrain himself from running a finger over the blade.
Harry placed it gently on the ground, before summoning his last attempt at an outfit. Though, really, it wasn’t the clothes that mattered here. He ran his hand over the white lace stockings, feeling the thin material and not suppressing the urge to smile wickedly.
This ‘outfit’ would have to catch Death’s attention: it put everything on show.
He stripped, throwing his clothes into the void, before sliding on the stockings slowly and carefully. Though he knew that he could easily summon another pair, he didn’t want to rip them. There was the possibility of Death appearing at any second, demanding his scythe back with furious anger.
The ground was cool when Harry knelt, spreading his legs apart and arching his back in what he hoped would be a seductive manner. The gentle breeze was cool against his skin as he lifted scythe over his shoulder, the other hand planted firmly on the floor between his legs.
“Death!” He called, a sing-song voice that spoke to his happiness.
Death arrived, just as quickly and silently as he always did, in a mist of darkness. This time, however, there was a strangeness to his movements. His cloak that Harry had worked out was actually a normal cloak, shifted with each step. It was as if there was a body underneath, rather than what Harry had always assumed was nothingness.
He seemed more human, even if Harry couldn’t see into the endless void in his hood.
“That is my scythe,” Death stated, his voice less booming than usual. It was almost gravelly, a tinge of annoyance lacing his words.
“It is,” Harry agreed, sitting back on his heels and holding the scythe in both hands. He turned it slowly, letting the light bounce off the polished metal.
Death took a step forward, the first time he had initiated such closeness, and held out his arm.
His sleeves shifted, the folds moving to show his hand, outstretched, and waiting for Harry to give the scythe back.
But, of course, Harry didn’t budge.
“Are you Death's scythe? Because you've definitely swept me off my feet,” He said, instead, regarding his face in the reflection of the blade.
“Harry,” Death said, the annoyed emotion so prevalent in his voice that Harry almost dropped his only bargaining chip in shock, “What is it that you want? Your attempts to catch my attention have been endless.”
Harry grinned, clutching the scythe to his chest. Death had finally fallen for him, and was ready to give him anything he wanted.
“I want to be resurrected, so I can kill Voldemort,” He stated, giving a self-satisfied nod.
Death let out a noise that sounded remarkably like a tut, “Give me my scythe, and you shall be allowed to do so.”
“Yes!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up from his stop and handing over the scythe quickly, “Please. Send me back!”
Death wrapped his bony, pale hands around the scythe, letting it drop to his side, “As you wish.”
“Hey,” Harry realised, cocking his head to the side and crossing his arms, “Do you think Voldemort could be stopped with seduction?”
Death chuckled, low and amused, “We shall have to see, won’t we?”
He frowned, “What do you–”
Harry fell, yelping in shock as he hit the ground. It was damp and dark, and he had to blink a few times to understand where he was.
The forbidden forest.
“Potter?”
He jumped up, spinning round and feeling for his wand, “Voldemort.”
Voldemort didn’t respond, his red eyes wide in shock as he took in Harry’s appearance. Serves him right, thinking Harry was dead!
“What are you wearing?”
Harry blanched, looking down at himself, before hurriedly moving his hands in an attempt to cover himself. He was naked, save the transparent pair of lace stockings.
“Ah,” He said, eloquently and wracking his brain for what to say or do.
Only one thing came to mind.
“Are you a Parselmouth? Because I'm hissing with excitement to get to know you better.”
COMING SOON: HOW TO SEDUCE A DARK LORD BY HARRY J. POTTER.
