Harryn Stark Omake: Death & Sex

Prologue - Master of Death Pt.2

"Understand?"

Harry nodded as the sound of the train's whistle, a sharp, clear note cut through the air. He wasn't sure how long he and Sirius had been talking. It felt like forever had passed since he opened his eyes, yet still not long enough.

Sirius had spent most of the time teaching Harry everything he knew about women. There was a lot Harry didn't know, having died a virgin and all. He did his best to listen to everything, but the main rule that stuck out to him was that while some witches didn't mind being talked about, Sirius had never met a witch who liked rumors being spread about her. So don't go running your mouth. That was a surefire way to cut the number of witches he would get to shag in half. Because the witches he did take to a broom closet would be telling all their friends that he was a blabber mouth.

Steam billowed from the train and it started to move. I don't want to leave yet, Harry thought and his face must have been an open book because Sirius patted him on the back.

"Go on then, Harry," Sirius said, trying to keep the mood light. "And remember, no matter where you end up, you have a life to live beyond what others expect of you. Always make the selfish choice to be happy. You've earned that right."

With a final hug, a squeeze that seemed to convey all the unsaid words and feelings, Sirius stepped back. Harry climbed the steps to the train, turned back once to wave, and then disappeared inside.

Inside the train, it was warm and bright. Harry found a compartment and settled into the seat, looking out the window as the train started moving, slowly at first, then faster as it picked up speed.

Outside the window, the world became a movie, flashing through scenes of his life. The first scene wasn't as scary as it had been before—a flash of green light, the very one that had attempted to end his life in infancy and did end his life in the forest. The view shifted to more mundane scenes of his life growing up in 4 Privet Drive as the train raced on.

Eventually, he saw Hagrid tell him he was a wizard. Then he was meeting Ron and Hermione. His fun and exciting, but also dangerous school years at Hogwarts. Snapshots of his life continued to play until all the scenes had run their course and finally faded completely after Harry saw himself walking into the forest.

A few seconds later, or at least from Harry's perspective, the Boy Who Lived found his vision filled with a blinding white light and there was an otherworldly voice resonating around him, filling his ears and soul with an eerie melody.

"We finally meet, Master."

Harry looked over his shoulder toward the voice. Standing in the door of his compartment was a humanoid figure twice as tall as him and covered in long robes and a hooded cloak made of ripped white cloth.

"Death?" Harry asked, not sure why he even bothered. Who else would it be? He had just accepted his death after all.

Two pale white hands reached up to pull the hood back. Harry expected to see something ghoulish, like a Dementor's face covered in thin, scabbed skin, with empty eye sockets and a gaping large hole where the mouth should've been. He was ready to keep himself from reacting. He was here to die, but that didn't mean he wanted to insult Death.

Death's hood fell revealing familiar bushy brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail with a few wild strands framing her face. "Yes master," she said, her voice was light and sweet, but it still gave him chills hearing something like that from Hermione's mouth. "I've been waiting for you."

Harry gave a slight bow. That was something people did for death right?

Death giggled as she stepped into the compartment. She removed her outer robe and underneath she was wearing a replica of Hermione's uniform only it was far from the standard Hogwarts regulations. Her skirt was scandalously short, barely grazing the curve of her ass offering a glimpse of her red and gold thong, the delicate straps cutting into the soft flesh of her cheeks, framing them perfectly as she bent over to set her robe down.

"You do not need to bow, Harry," she said, using her finger to lift his chin. "You are the true master of death. The only one who did not seek to run away from Death, who accepts that he must die and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying."

"So it's true?" asked Harry. He was doing his best to keep his eyes up and not look down at where the top two buttons of Death's white button-up were undone. "All of it? The Peverell brothers —"

"—were the three brothers of the tale," said Death, nodding. "Oh yes, I granted them each one of my Hallows."

Harry was shocked. Even at the end, he assumed that the story of the three brothers was a bedtime story, or at the very least not the complete truth. He figured the Peverell brothers were just three gifted wizards who succeeded in creating powerful objects. The story of them being Death's own Hallows seemed to him the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

But here he was, hearing it from Death herself…who looked like his best friend. Why did she look like Hermione?

Death leaned closer until there was only an inch of air between their noses. Harry was once again glad she didn't look anything like how he thought Death would look.

"Did you think I would be some hideous beast?" Death tilted her head to the side. She was looking at him curiously, then she sighed. "You mortals always think that. I wonder why?"

After a moment of silence, Harry realized the question wasn't rhetorical and that Death was waiting for him to answer.

"Um…because you're Death?" he answered, though it came out like a question. "I mean, to most people dying is the scariest thing in the world."

"Exactly!" Death let out a little huff. "It's not like I'm the one actually killing you mortals. I don't have any control over when or how you die. That's not my power. I only come after you die, to gently sever the last ties between the soul and the body, and to guide the deceased to the afterlife. Why would I present myself as some scary terrifying beast and make the whole ordeal even more difficult?"

"I... I don't know," Harry admitted. He couldn't really argue when she put it like that.

It made sense, but it still didn't change the fact that the idea of dying was terrifying. He had faced it multiple times already, and even at the very end, when he accepted his death, walking into the forest had been the hardest thing he had ever done.

Not that he planned on arguing semantics with Death. He might be the "Master of Death" but he wasn't sure what that meant. Was it a metaphor, or was he supposed to become the new death? And if Death was just a guide, what if he insulted her and she refused to take him to the afterlife? Would he be forced back to the Wizarding World? What would happen when he died again?

Death reached out and gently cupped Harry's cheeks. Harry felt a sudden rush of peace wash over him. All his worries faded away as he looked into her purple eyes.

"Do not be afraid, Harry," she said, in answer to Harry's unasked questions. "You have nothing to fear from dying, because you can't die."

"What?"

"To guide a soul to the afterlife, I must sever the ties between the soul and the mortal world, but a servant cannot harm their Master."

"I don't want to be the Master of Death," Harry protested weakly, the title sounding too grand and permanent for his liking.

"It is not a choice that can be undone. You have proved yourself worthy with my Hallows, Harry. The title is yours."

Harry's protest grew into frustration. "But why do you even need a master?" he demanded. "Why risk giving your Hallows to three mortals?"

For a moment, Death looked almost sheepish, which was odd, considering her role.

"Being Death is a lonely and thankless job, Harry," she admitted. "I wanted someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't just see me as the end."

Staring at her startlingly human expression, Harry sighed. "I'm still scared of you, though," he confessed.

"Yes, you are right now. But this is only your first time," Death said with a smile. "The problem with you mortals is that even the ones who believe in reincarnation never remember their past encounters with me. They forget that there is no reason to be afraid and always come back scared."

"First time?" Harry asked. "So, I'm not going to spend eternity here with you?"

Death looked genuinely surprised by the suggestion. "Of course not," she said quickly. "I might want someone to talk to every now and then, but I don't need a pet."

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit insulted by the jump straight to 'pet' instead of something like boyfriend or husband. But then again, to a being like Death, the idea of dating a mortal probably didn't even register.

"Oh?" In a sudden playful move, Death squished Harry's cheeks so that his lips puckered. She grinned at him playfully. "Do you find me attractive, Master? Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

Caught off guard by her forwardness, Harry didn't know how to respond. He was about to quickly change the subject when he remembered Sirius advice: Witches liked confidence, and pretty privilege was a thing. The only difference between being a creep or a flirt was whether a witch found him attractive or not.

Boldly reaching around Death, Harry spanked her white robes taking a great big handful of her large, round arse, filling his palm and fingers with springy, bouncy ass cheek.

"Harry!" Death yelped at Harry's sudden boldness.

He was worried he may have overstepped and was about to let go and apologize when he felt her arch slightly into his touch. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she moved her hands from his face to wrap her arms around his neck.

"How bold of you, Master. Maybe you do want to be my boyfriend," she said, cheeks red as she pouted up at him. "We might have to explore that idea sometime."

Harry gave her a lopsided smile and another playful squeeze. "So, I'm just going to keep getting reincarnated, but because I'm the Master of Death, I'll remember all this?"

"That's right," Death said, and before Harry could ask how reincarnating worked, she leaned even closer and pressed her lips against his.

Harry's breath hitched as Death's lips crashed into his, her tongue pushing past his teeth in a wet, sloppy kiss that left him dizzy. His hands fumbled with the buttons of her top, fingers trembling as he peeled the fabric open to reveal her bare chest. His stomach twisted when he saw Hermione's familiar form staring back at him, her small, perky breasts exposed. He froze, guilt clawing at him as he remembered the dreams he'd had about her—dreams he'd buried deep, ashamed to admit even to himself.

Death pulled back, her lips curling into a wicked smirk. "Oh, Harry," she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. "I know all about those little fantasies of yours. How you'd imagine her under you, moaning your name. Don't be shy now."

Harry's face burned, but before he could protest, Death's body shimmered. Hermione's form melted away, replaced by Narcissa Malfoy's tall, elegant figure. Her platinum hair framed her face perfectly, and her icy blue eyes locked onto his with a predatory glint. "You always did want to get back at Draco, didn't you?" she teased, her voice low and sultry. "Shagging his mum would be quite the revenge, wouldn't it?"

Harry's gaze dropped to her chest, where her mature, fuller breasts hung slightly, larger than Hermione's, the nipples pink and inviting. He swallowed hard, his discomfort giving way to a raw, primal hunger. He nodded, unable to form words, and leaned down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as Narcissa let out a soft, approving moan.

The Hogwarts Express kept chugging along, but Harry couldn't focus on anything except the sight of Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mum, sitting on his lap like she belonged to him. Her tits were spilling out of her unbuttoned shirt, her nipples hard and begging for attention. Her skirt was hiked up so high he could see the edge of her panties—red and gold Gryffindor colors—pulled to the side to reveal her dripping pussy. Fuck, she was wet. And she was about to take his virginity.

"Relax, Harry," 'Narcissa' cooed as she guided his cock to her soaking entrance. "This is what you want isn't it?"

Harry gasped as she sank down onto him. Her tight, slick cunt swallowed him whole, sliding all the way until her thick lips were kissing his balls and her blonde bush mixed with his dark hair. Merlin did she feel incredible!

"You like that, don't you?" she purred, her hips bouncing against his. "Bet you've never felt anything this good."

Harry couldn't speak. His hands slid over her mature curvy hips, gripping her round arse as they began to move together in a slow, steady pace of fucking.

"Oooohhh, yeah," he grunted, his fingers digging into the bouncy flesh, leaving faint red marks as they fucked. Her pussy was so warm, so tight, and Harry could feel every inch he had inside her being softly milked by her clenching walls as she bounced.

'Narcissa' closed her eyes and took a deep breath rolling her hips back and forth in a steady rhythm, her slick pussy clinging to Harry, hungry for more of his throbbing hardness as she sat down and grinded on his lap. She could feel the veiny shaft sliding in and out of her, his swollen head nudging against her G-spot with every thrust.

"Mmm, Harry," she moaned, her voice shaking as she bounced on his cock. "You're so big. So hard!"

Harry looked up at the stunning MILF above him. He couldn't take his eyes off her. It was such an incredible sight, watching Draco's mum ride his cock like she was nothing more than some Knockturn Alley whore. Her flushed cheeks and her tits flopping up and down. He squeezed her ass tighter and his hips began to move in time with her, pumping off his seat as they continued to fuck.

"Do you like riding my cock?"

'Narcissa' could only moan in response, the sensations were overwhelming, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through her body.

"C'mon, Mrs. Malfoy, say it."

"Y-yes!" 'Narcissa' admitted breathlessly, somewhat embarrassed. "I…I love riding your cock!"

Harry thrust his hips upwards with increasing force, driving his length deeper into her. He couldn't believe how good sex felt! It was amazing! Death—Narcissa—was nice and tight, and he could feel every bit of it as her pussy clung to him, her slick walls pulsating with each thrust, creating an amazing suction feeling on his cock.

'Narcissa' threw her head back letting out a low, guttural moan as she rocked her hips faster. The sensation of having Harry inside her was like wildfire, spreading and intensifying more and more every second. Harry grabbed the bottom of her shirt, tugging it up and over her chest revealing her naked tits to him again. 'Narcissa' eagerly helped him strip it off, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside, leaving herself completely exposed as she continued to ride him.

"You look so good naked, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Do I?" 'Narcissa' giggled in response.

"Oh, fuck, yeah. Merlin, look at those gorgeous tits!"

Harry couldn't resist grabbing one, pinching her nipple between his fingers.

'Narcissa' gasped, her pussy clamping down on him even tighter. "That's it, Harry," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Fuck me, fuck me better than Lucius ever could!"

Harry's hips bucked harder. His breath started coming in labored gasps as he grunted with each thrust, burying himself deeper inside Draco's mother. She was so fucking wet, her juices coating his cock as she slid up and down his shaft. He could feel his first-ever climax from something other than his hand getting closer. His balls flexed and jumped as she clenched around him.

"I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his voice rough with need.

"Do it," 'Narcissa' urged, her hips slamming down on his. "Cum inside me, Harry. Cum inside Draco's mum!"

"Ohhhh! Mrs. Malfoy," Harry grunted "I'm cumming! Ooooohhhhhhh, fuck!"

With a grunt, he exploded inside her, his cockhead erupting like a volcano as he filled her up. 'Narcissa' dug her nails into his shoulders, her moans and gasps filling the compartment. She could feel every pulse inside her, each jerk firing out thick hot ropes of cum that painted her walls until the pocket of her womb was filled and his cum started leaking out.

Determined to trigger her own, she continued riding him through his orgasm, grinding against him in a desperate attempt to find her own release.

"Ohhh fuck... keep fucking me... you feel so good!"

Harry kept bucking and could feel Death leaning backward to help herself reach her peak. She was breathing more heavily, crying out more needily.

"Ohh fuck... I feel strange... ouuuhhh... wait... hold on..."

Death's knees went weak. Harry supported her while continuing his unrelenting thrusts into her pussy even as his spent cock began to soften and ache. Her mind was suddenly white, and she felt pins and needles in all of her extremities. She howled,

"Ohhhhhh Maaaaaaaaster!"

It was like nothing Harry or Death had ever felt before. Harry had shoved into her and stayed there as they rode out her newly discovered orgasm. She felt so incredibly full.

Harry's cock throbbed as Death collapsed against his chest, her tits pressing into him as she tried to catch her breath. Her toes curled against the seat's cushion floor, and she had her arms flung around his neck clumsily just to keep some kind of hold on him.

"That was amazing," Harry panted, basking in the afterglow of having fucked for the first time. His heart was still racing, his skin slick with sweat, and his muscles felt like jelly. He sat back in his seat, his dick still half-hard, twitching as if it wasn't quite ready to call it a night. The compartment smelled like sex—musky, raw, and intoxicating—and his pants which he hadn't bothered to take off were a wet mess.

Still on his lap, Death was just as wrecked. Her hair was a wild mess, her lips swollen from kissing and her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. She turned her head to look at him, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Yes, it was," she said, her voice rough and husky. "I wasn't expecting that."

Harry chuckled, running a hand through his damp hair. "Neither was I, to be honest. I mean, I've thought about it—a lot—but actually doing it? Fuck, it's so much better." He glanced down at where they were still connected, her thick aroused folds still being split by his cock. "You're fucking incredible, you know that?"

Death laughed softly, leaning back so her arse was flat against his thighs. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she teased, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his shirt. "But seriously, you were… intense. I liked it."

Harry felt a surge of pride at her words. He'd been nervous—hell, he'd been terrified—but once they'd started, all that anxiety had melted away. It was just the two of them, lost in the heat of the moment, exploring each other in ways he'd only ever dreamed about. He'd been rough at times, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks, and she'd loved every second of it. The way she'd moaned his name, the way she'd dug her nails into his back—it had driven him wild.

"You're not so bad yourself," he said, his voice low and teasing. "The way you move, the sounds you make… fuck, it's like you were made for this."

Death's smile turned wicked, and she leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Maybe I was," she whispered, her hand sliding down his chest, over his stomach, and stopping just above his cock. "You think you're ready for round two?"

Harry's breath hitched, and they both felt his dick twitch in response. "Fuck, Emma," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "You're going to kill me."

"Only if you're lucky," she purred, her walls clenching and giving him a slow, deliberate suck.

Harry's hips jerked involuntarily, and he let out a low, guttural moan. But sadly, he wasn't lucky. The train had reached its destination, wherever that was, Harry still wasn't sure. It came to a complete stop, and the door to the compartment slid open.

Instead of the Hogwarts Express hallway, the doorway looked more like the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.

lifting her index finger, the tip frosted with his cum to pop in her mouth. "Mmm… a little salty, but not terrible."

"Shit," Harry muttered as he adjusted his pants, his cock still half-hard and glistening with her juices. He glanced at the curtain-like doorway. "This is it?"

Death smirked, her fingers still playing with herself, spreading his cum over her swollen clit. "Guess I was a bit too distracting, huh?" she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. She watched as Harry stood, his cock twitching as he zipped up his jeans, the fabric straining against the bulge that hadn't quite gotten hard again.

"You really are evil, you know that?" Harry stepped toward the compartment door, pausing to glance back at her.

Death was still sprawled out, her fingers lazily circling her clit, her eyes locked on his. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a wicked grin as let out a soft moan pushing her fingers deeper, her hips lifting slightly off the seat.

"Go," she said, her voice firm but playful. "Before I change my mind and drag you back here."

Harry hesitated for a moment, his eyes roaming over her body, memorizing every inch of her.

Then, with a frustrated growl, he turned and stepped through the doorway and somewhere else, in a different universe entirely, a baby with grey eyes and reddish, dark-brown hair was born.