I do not own 'Black Butler' or 'Harry Potter'. These two amazing stories respectively go to J.K. Rowling and Yana Toboso.

"Vacation: Terminated." - Flashback.

'Vacation Terminated.' - Thoughts

"Vacation: Terminated." - Normal.

Warnings: Sebastian Michaelis/Harry Potter (Elijah Phantomhive), Past!Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Magic, Demons, Slow Build, Angst, Mates, Mental Health Issues, grey!Harry, Humor, Family Feels, Harry is a Little Shit, So is death, Possessive Behavior, Drama, LGBTQ Themes, Manipulation, Violence, Supernatural Elements, Sexual Content, Dark, Feels, Family, Flashbacks, Jealousy, Pain, Panic, Past, Romance, some - Freeform, Roughness, Sad, Secrets, Suicide, Suicide Attempts, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder PTSD, Mental Instability, Murder, Nightmares, Poison

Brief overview of the Death Gods: The Death Gods that you see here are different to the ones you see in Black Butler. They're actual living Gods that were among the first creations to reap human souls. They weren't humans that committed suicide. Death was the first creation by God to reap human souls. Then as time gradually flowed, Death created other Death Gods to help him in his task since the human population spread. (You can see where I'm going with this right?) When the human population got too big and were overworking the Gods, they chose to charge humans who committed suicide with their work. Giving them additional enhances such as agility, endurance and other abilities similar to their own but weaker in comparison. The Death Gods then came about making a corporation (bla bla bla~, you get the idea) they are in charge of the Grim Reaper Dispatch and keeping the shiniagmi in check.

*sigh* Yes, new story despite already having two demanding my attention. Please forgive my lack of impulse! BUUUT I do plan on writing this story 'till the very end!

. . .

Vacation: Terminated

Prologue

After countless reincarnations, heartbreak and nonstop paperwork, the Master of Death – Harry James Potter – upon agreement with Death has decided to take a long-awaited vacation for one lifetime.

. . .

"I'm just gonna fade away
No I can't stay here if I wanna stay sane
Guess I'll leave down those streets of gold
I'm just gonna fade away
No I can't stay here if I wanna stay sane
Guess I'll leave down those streets of gold
All turned to rust as I grew old"

- Fade Away, Ronin

. . .

Year: 2068

There is no poetry about being the Master of Death. There is no bright light that fills you with adoration, no God that lifts you into their kingdom, there is nothing but contempt. Forever alone, forever dying and forever reaping. Being the Master of Death isn't just a title, it's a job filled with infinite loss.

The first time Harry came to this notion was decades after he had stopped aging. By the time he and Ginny had gotten married and had their firstborn, her face started to age while his remained twenty. Harry tried hiding it by using glamours, voice spells, anything he could get his hands on. They went to professionals, alchemists, centaurs and even vampires. But they all came to the same conclusion: "We don't know."

Years went by in a daze from then on. Watching his friends gradually age, hair turning grey, wrinkles sprouting, their jealousy and anger towards something he couldn't control increasing as time went by. If only they knew how it felt for him. It didn't take long, Harry soon discovered, for his son and grandson to catch up to him, for his friends to die off one by one along with his wife. He dug their graves.

It was a bitter blessing when Harry decided to end his own life. His only regret of that was his son being left behind.

When he woke up, he was in an abyss of darkness, body floating in nothingness. "Is this hell?" He wondered.

"No." A voice said softly and out of the darkness came a smiling man dressed in a green pinstriped suit. His dark feathery hair combed back neatly, face freshly shaven and raven eyes alight with anticipation. The man floated in front of him as though he were standing, unlike himself that was lying horizontal. "You're in a space between life and death. Heaven and Hell. Earth and the cosmos. Pretty much you're in a space that shouldn't exist but does because one great being you call God decided as such."

Harry gave a worried grin. "And why am I here exactly? In the place that shouldn't exist?" The man scoffed at the question.

"I'm not sure it's actually possible for you to go to Heaven or Hell." He said sarcastically, smile dissolving into a frown when Harry leveled his toxic green eyes at him.

"Pardon?"

The man stared.

"…You don't know…do you?" The green suited man growled when Harry shook his head. "Well that's just great!" He huffed like a five year old and sat cross-legged. His body hovering in front of Harry as though he were a genie. Harry reared back in shock when the man's head snapped out, nose an inch from his own. "I'd hoped you bumbling mortals would have figured it out. I did leave clues ya' know. Hoping to get the ball rolling and such. I thought with that little friend of yours, what's her name? Starting with an H? - Never can quite remember it, feels like I have to talk in tongues – would have been able to figure it out. Guess I was wrong, mortals," he snorted "thoughtless creatures you are. Nothing personal, you understand. It's just your basic nature and all that hoo-ha."

"I'm sorry?" Harry muttered in bemusement at the being that was currently glaring at him. The happiness that was once beaming amongst the darkness seemed to have been swallowed whole by it. And just then, Harry's mind snapped awake. "Hang on. I just…What's going on? Why am I here? I just killed myself…I died and" Oh God he died. Realizing he was panicking he took a deep breath and said: "…I'm sorry, I don't-"

"Don't be." The man (Harry was beginning to question if he was a man at all) heaved a sigh. "Perfectly normal reaction after dying." Out of nowhere Harry felt the man's palm press against his chest making him tense up. "Goodness, you're heart's beating like a samba."

Harry's eye's widened. "My heart?!" Quickly he checked his pulse. He didn't feel anything at first. There! There it was. Beating away rapidly. A light chuckle bubbled out of his throat and relief swept through him. "That doesn't make any sense. How can my heart still be beating when I'm already dead?"

"Bah!" The hand left his chest to flap about in about pish-posh manner. Those dark eyes of his glinting madly in anticipation. "What kind of Death God would I be if I were to kill my master?"

"…Master? "

"Yes, damn you!" The man cried as he took Harry by the shoulders and proceeded to shake him. "You've been my master for almost seventy years now ever since you collected all the hallows and died- which by the way you have an annoying habit of. This makes the third time you've died in one lifetime! How many times do I have to save you, you problematic master?! Makes you wonder if it was fate that brought us toge-" Harry's head snapped forward, bashing itself against the pinstriped man. "OW! What the…" His voice trailed off as he stared at the furious mortal.

"Stop beating around the bush you incongruous man and tell me what it is I should obviously know."

The man winced. The mortal was angry and scared. Poor thing. "You're the Master of Death."

He didn't blink much in those quiet minutes they sat.

"Bugger that I want to go to heaven."

The man spluttered as though he had cursed his great ancestors.

"You've been the Master of Death for the past seventy years! You can't just up and go. Man, what would the God's in the lower levels say if they heard you right now? Tut tut." His eyes narrowing dangerously. "You could have renounced your throne a couple of years in if you didn't wait so long. Lazy master."

Harry's eyebrow twitched. "I didn't know anything about this nonsense until now. – And don't you give me that lame excuse of leaving clues. I didn't get any kind of clues that would point to me being the Master of Death." He hissed and gritted his teeth at the peeved off expression he was receiving.

"Did you think you not aging was some kind of medical phenomenon?" There was a pause.

Harry set his face against his hands, inhaled deeply and let out a morbid groan that seemed to echo around himself and the infuriating pinstriped green man. As though he wasn't suffering enough, the man had the gall to pat his head – dare he day it - affectionately. "There there little master. Everything's gonna be alright."

Kill him now. 'Pfft. Like that worked last time.'

'That green striped bastard.'

"You ruined my marriage!" Harry howled and lunged at the man who let out an alarmed 'eep!' as he was tackled. One second they were floating in the recesses of space, the next the ground came rushing up to meet them. Both landed with a loud "oof!"

"What in the world?..." As Harry looked up from his fists clutching at a squirming green collar, his eyes widened to impossible lengths. "Merlin's balls."

He was in some kind of abnormally large room. The entire wall in front of him was filled with planes of glass stretching across the wall. With it came a desk the size of a car at the end of it. The nametag on said desk read 'Master of Death'. He scowled at it.

A whimper brought his attention back to the matter at hand. "U-Um Master, c-could you…" When Harry looked down with a raised eyebrow, watching the man's finger point frantically downwards; he blushed.

"…Ah." Moving his knee, the mortal man stood up and walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the entire side of the room. Harry stared at the sight in front of him in awe. He couldn't believe it. The sight before him was neither evil nor angelic. Pressing his head against the plane of glass, he breathed out a laugh. Bright entities flew past the room in a similar fashion to a Patronus before disappearing into the dusk beyond. There were millions of them, and with a grimace Harry realized that they must be souls. Lucky bastards. They get to go to heaven or hell while he's stuck here like the freak everybody keeps on telling him that he is. Moving his eyes down, he almost chocked. There were similar rooms underneath this one that seemed to span on for an eternity.

"Thank you Master." A strained voice behind him breathed, making Harry swallow a yelp.

"Forgot you were here." Harry muttered bitterly to himself as he stared at the pinstriped green man for a second longer. "Where are we?"

"Where are we?..." The question seemed to kick the fellow into gear as he stumbled to his feet and looked around as if expecting ninjas to emerge from the shadows and attack. "W-We're. Er…" The man looked positively wretched.

"Well?"

"Y'see, I was gonna break this gently to you up there." Pointing up from where they fell. "Now, this is gonna sound crazy-"

"I killed myself not ten minutes ago and wake up to be told I'm the Master of Death. It can't possibly get crazier than this."

"Ah, well, hmm, yes." He nodded to himself, as though he were convincing himself he had the valor to agree. "We're in your office." Harry nodded, edging him on. "In the plane between life and death. Heaven and Hell. Earth and the cosmos –"

"Get on with it."

"To be frank, you're currently standing in the Company_of_Death©. That you own. And Death Gods are your employees."

Harry cursed under his breath.

There was a list of things that could have gone wrong when he committed suicide, but being shoved the title "Master of Death" and owning a company full of Death God employees was not one of them.

"I was wrong. This is crazy. This." He sighed, sweeping his arm through the air. "This is not happening."

"You just gestured to all of it." The man stated dryly.

"Oh I know." He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. The throbbing in his temples was demanding attention. "Look I'm honored and all but I cannot accept this. I'm just Har-"

With one graceful movement, the man had Harry pinned against the window, making it crack on impact. Spidery fractures in the glass spread out underneath the wizard. Harry didn't like the sound of it. The hand enclosing his throat almost crushed his windpipe; Harry stared at the man in bewilderment. This guy has mood swings that could change the tide.

"You should reconsider what you just said and who you said it to mortal." He chastised. When he received a glare in return he rolled his eyes in a way that almost looked painful. "Right, of course you didn't figure it out. I'm Death, Master. And never in my years upon this bleak Earth have I once asked for a Master. Every mortal I've come across that looked like a suitable fit turned out to be a power-hungry. Sociopathic. Lost little lamb." He punctuated each word by pressing down harder upon his throat. Almost crushing his esophagus. "Like Tom Riddle for example. Smart, handsome, charming young man before he decided to take it upon himself to start Armageddon. Boy," A chuckle breezed over Harry's face. "was I in the wrong there. But I was glad I stuck around. If I hadn't I would have never met you." The pressure lessened on his throat making Harry take gulps of air before settling his glare on Death again.

"I wish you hadn't stuck around. You ruined my life." Almost too soon was he repeatedly slammed against the window, this time breaking it under his brute force. Harry let out a strangled cry of shock as he felt gravity pull him down. Death's arm snatched his top, letting his body dangle precariously out the window.

The sound outside was inhumane. The souls that once looked so beautiful when viewed from behind the window were releasing these loud tortuous screeches. Like nails scraping against a chalkboard the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in horror.

"Get me back up!" He shouted at Death. The man looked at him with a bored expression, but those dark malicious eyes told a different story.

"Will you be my Master?"

The noises from the souls got closer and closer until his ears began to ring.

"Hell no!" His breath hitched as the bright entities stopped and turned towards him and shrieked even louder. Harry winced. "What are they doing?"

"They're attracted to bodies that they can possess." Death smiled wearily. "The fickle thing about humans is that even when they're dead they still cling to life. A soul can't possess Death God's like myself because we can't be so easily defeated. But, a flock of souls like this one and we're gonna have a problem. That's why the outer rim of this company has a dimensional barrier. The Dimensional barrier not only protects us from human souls, it also hides us from Heaven and Hell. Thank's God. Same goes with this glass that's also been blessed by God himself. Although now that I think about it…" One of the hands that was holding Harry with let go as Death scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You broke through the dimensional barrier when you accidentally teleported us here and oh would you look at that." Death studied the broken glass innocently. Purposefully ignoring the savage-looking souls heading towards them and a panicked Harry. He placed a hand against his cheek comically. "Dear me. It seems I broke the glass."

Harry gritted his teeth in irritation. "You utter bastard!" Death stared at him maliciously.

"Will you be my Master?"

"What?!" Shrieked Harry. Christ almighty, this guy was insane!

"Will you be my Master? Simple question, not so simple answer."

'Oh Christ! Stop it!'

"This is neither time nor place, Death!" The man simply stared at him indifferently. Harry sighed. "Fine! Yes, yes I'll be your freaking Master now get us out of here!" With a pull Death flung Harry inside the room like he was a sack of barley. Toppling to the floor he heard a loud bang from behind him and twisted around fearfully to only be baffled. Replacing the broken windows was a set of bars that seemed enchanted (They were freaking glowing!) as they repelled the souls.

"Forgot to mention." Said Death cheekily, absently scratching the back of his head. "But we have a backup system incase the dimensional barrier and glass breaks."

"You're mad." Harry hissed out, but was broken out of his rage when the doors to the room blasted open revealing a heaving man glaring daggers at the two of them. The man was a handsome one, Harry idly noticed, his dreadlocked hair was pulled back from his face in a short bun. Clothing fitted nicely in a standard black suit-and armed by the look of it. 'Although', Harry thought wearily, 'those don't look like standard weapons.' In fact they were rather odd looking. In place of where a gun or wand would be was a mini staff.

'The hell?'

"Who was it?" Hissed the man, leaning on the door with one arm and puffing as though he had ran a marathon. "Who was the twit that broke the security barriers?" Before he could say anything Death pointed at Harry on the floor. Said wizard glared but halted at feeling a large amount of killing intent being aimed towards him. He glanced over to Death who seemed unfazed by the murderous tension in the air. Bastard. "Oho, should'a guessed it was the mortal." The man then paused. Blinking incredulously. "Wait…Mortal!?" The once very intimidating person clutched his hair in a panic. "What's a human doing here?! No, how did a human get in here? I would have noticed if such a thing, unless…" His accusing glare turned towards Death. "Oh you senseless twat."

"I did nothing that didn't need doing." Death said innocently. Bobbing on the edge of his heels.

"You brought a Mortal into the company." The man growled and stalked forward, poking Death's chest with his index finger. "It's against the rules."

"Aha. Not if they aren't dead, and as you can see," Death gestured to Harry's sprawled form on the ground, his eye twitched, "he's very much alive." Seeing the man about to rebut he quickly said: "I got permission."

"From who?"

"Mine, of course." Death cooed. The man's mouth shut with a snap of incredulity.

"How did you even break the dimension seal? That thing is thousands of years old. Lucifer himself couldn't break it without sweating a little and scorching his wings."

This made Death smirk at him like a shark, excitement pouring out of him in waves. "I didn't, he did." Pointing to Harry who was unsteadily getting to his feet. The dreadlocked man blinked.

"I call bullshit."

"Oh no, he did it. Without even realizing it too." Death cooed again and flashes over to Harry making the mortal jump back in surprise. "Yes, he'll make a great Master of Death." Harry watched as the dreadlocked God looked as though he had sucked on a lemon before staring at Death suspiciously.

"Oh no, I'm not bowing down to a shitty Mortal. I'd rather have dinner with Metatron than submit my loyalty to a human." Death pouted.

"Hapi! Come on, you know I wouldn't pick just anyone to be my Master. This one's special." Said Death, patting a petrified Harry on the head. "He doesn't even want to be my Master!" 'Also collected all of the Hallows, but he doesn't need to know that.'

"You have serious issues if you think that's a valid point of him being your Master. Besides, have you even thought about how the others would react to this? This could cause some serious commotion in the lower levels and we'll loose produce in souls. Moreover, Death…Human's can't survive in this place long enough until their body starts decaying."

"What?!" Chocked Harry. He snapped out of his frozen state and slapped Death away from him. Swiftly ignoring the snarl he got in return. "What do you mean, decay? Does this mean I can die?"

Hapi took a moment to stare at how pleased that seemed to make the mortal. Pfft, he won't even try to start understanding the little hellion.

"Easy fix!" Death cried and pulled Harry back towards him. Putting pressure on the mortal's back when he chose to struggle. 'God dammit!' "We just reincarnate him."

'…What?'

"That's selfish." Deadpanned Hapi. Choosing to pause for a moment as he realized that he actually defended the little heathen. He flapped his hands in a 'pish posh' gesture. "Bah! I don't care what you do to him, but I ain't bowing down to a defenseless mortal, Death." The Death God jolted back when a bark of laughter came from his superior.

"Defenseless you say? My, the amount arrogance you must have to believe such a thing must be immeasurable. This 'defenseless mortal' as you say, just broke through a barrier seal made by God himself. This mortal, has more power than I care to realize and he doesn't even notice it." Hapi's eyes widened as he took in the weight of those words. His eyes turned over to the mortal who seemed confused as Dickens to what to going on. Internally he winced. A mortal with no understanding of his capabilities. If Death hadn't picked him up when he did…He shivered. Hapi doesn't even want to think about what could have happened if someone down from Hell took an interest in the mortal. "Besides, just think of the possibilities, Hapi." Cried Death, spreading his arms wide. "Us Gods are so busy doing either too much or too little. We used to live not exist!"

Hapi stared. "No. Hells no."

"Come on! Harry's perfect for the job!"

"He's a mortal. What can he possibly know about managing Death?"

As the two badgered on, Harry stood in-between them and pondered on what his life has come to.

"Enough!" Harry shouted, ceasing the argument between Gods. "Right, I agree to being your Master." He ignored the beaming smile and angry huff. "But I have conditions, one, you do not toy with me." Staring at a now aggravated Death. "Two, you do not lie to me. And three, for Christ's sake! Tell me what the bloody hell is going on here!"

The two Gods winced in pain as their new Master abused their ears.

. . .

That was centuries ago.

Oh, how he wished to turn back time and reject the mantle of the Master of Death. He was so naïve in his thinking that the job wouldn't be worse than the crap he had already been through. After all, what could be worse than facing off a Dark Lord since childhood? What could be worse than dying twice in his lifespan and coming back into existence? What could be worse than being tortured, neglected, outliving his loved ones and watching his own child and godson grow weary while he's stuck at twenty?

Again, he was naive.

Death, Harry found out was depressively enthusiastic about him being his new Master that he decided to neglect the essential information vital to his survival in the company. This, being how to manage Death Gods with an inferiority complex worse than Tom Riddle's own. And managing paperwork that included detailed reports on the recently deceased. Not to mention, oh no not to mention, that he will forever be reincarnated throughout time. Death was a prick, Harry decided.

A decrepit, maddening, excruciating prick. That Harry will be stuck with for the remaining of his miserably wretched life.

But, no. Oh no. He didn't realize this at the time. No no…

Again, he was naïve.

Death did not play dice with the universe. He cheats, lies and plays with people like everyone's his own personal marionette and he's the one pulling at the strings. Everything is of his own devising. The way Harry never ages is thanks to Death. The agony of grief he feels is thanks to Death. His future reincarnations, is thanks to Death.

To Harry and everyone else, Death doesn't have a Master. He doesn't need one.

He was naïve. Oh so naïve to think he could survive this plane of existence. Now though, Harry wishes he could just die already and pass on to either Heaven or Hell. Either one would do, really. He just can't take it anymore. The repeated reincarnations.

In the beginning he made connections. Born into a wizard family in the 1930s. His appearance wasn't much different to his original. He still had his mother's eyes and his father's untamable black hair, but everything else resembled his two new parents. He could roll with that.

When Harry came to realization that he was in the time of Tom Riddle, he almost had an aneurism that caused his parents to rush him to the hospital. When they saw nothing was wrong with him, Harry had already cooled down and got to work. It took a lot of plotting and cool-headedness to decide to try and help the little heathen to not cause Armageddon. But it'll all pay off in the long run. He hoped.

So, when the letter from Hogwarts arrived, he was already packed and brooding at the thought of meeting a mini Tom Riddle.

It took everything he had to not stab the child in the eye with his new wand when the two finally met.

It also took everything he had to not scream in holy terror and clutch an imaginary pearl necklace at seeing the little hellion. Tom was pudgy, broody, and silently awed at the sight of Hogwarts.

Befriending Tom Riddle wasn't easy. Though, getting close to the boy wasn't as hard as he had predicted considering Tom was a Slytherin and Harry was a Hufflepuff. (He had decided long before, that being a Gryffindor and befriending a Slytherin in this time would not work. Being a Ravenclaw would fry his brain out with that rumored door that wouldn't let you pass into the common room if you couldn't answer its riddles. Harry had this bizarre image of himself drunk and trading jokes with the door. He shuddered. So no. He won't be going into Ravenclaw. That left Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Being in Slytherin would absolutely not do. He wasn't vain enough to believe everyone who's sorted in it turns out evil. Malfoy turned out alright in the end. Merlin was a Slytherin. He didn't have any issues with Slytherin other than it's barmy politics and spoiled little rich kids. That left Hufflepuff. Being near the kitchens was enough convincing for him. And everybody loved Hufflepuffs.) Tom had issues the size of Big Ben and an even worse personality to boot. It took the whole year for him to open up, and Harry soon realized that the both of them weren't so much different.

When the second year came about, Harry was known as the badger who befriended a snake and lived to tell the tale. Sure he had to anonymously take out (threaten) a few rogue snakes that threatened his friendship with Tom, but everything was going swimmingly. Riddle was finally showing signs of happiness and Harry was silently whooping for joy. Without even knowing it, he was enjoying the friendship himself.

Stepping back from dealing with Riddle, Harry was thoroughly enjoying the life of a Hufflepuff. It amazed him how the other houses underestimated these little badgers. At the start he too did not acknowledge them unless the word 'food' was uttered. Oh how wrong he was. Have you ever seen a badger in the wild?

Those furry little beasts eat poisonous snakes for breakfast.

He wouldn't be surprised if one of these puffs were secretly a mass murderer.

His first encounter with a wild puff began when he stole a cookie off one of his house friends. The girl gave him a glare that could rival Bellatrix Lestranges'. The first few seconds were filled with an epic stare-down. Then he hesitantly handed the cookie back and the girl acted as though she didn't just threaten to murder him with her eyes. Then he witnessed an older puff kick a male Ravenclaw in the jewels for hitting on his girlfriend. (In an empty hallway of course with no witnesses – aside himself who was hidden pretty well - to prove that Hufflepuffs could roughhouse it.) Oh and they were sass queens. Harry then came to the conclusion that Hufflepuff is no ordinary house.

He loved this new reincarnation.

Then he hated it.

He hated it because on the first day of sixth year, Tom Riddle confessed to him. It took a while for Harry to fully comprehend what he had been told. The Dark Lord that had murdered his parents and attempted many assassinations upon his person has a crush on him.

Then again Tom Riddle isn't Voldemort. He isn't even close to becoming that monster Harry killed in his past life.

This Tom Riddle was unquestionably different. He was still as cunning as ever, but there's a difference between cunning and a manipulative asshole that wants to commit worldwide genocide based on delusions of grandeur.

That year Harry was an asshole of epic proportions. He ignored Tom and his Slytherin friends (who had accepted the Hufflepuff because they also weren't bias assholes) who had tried to talk some sense into him. Along with everyone else – that included other people in Slytherin and certain Gryffindor and Ravenclaws he associated with - who Tom had dragged into his orbit of 'Harry hunting'. Harry had managed to ignore most of them for a lengthy duration of two months with the help of secret passages that he had memorized from his father's map. Two months of dodging ceased when Tom had somehow managed to corner him in the classroom after Astronomy.

Harry still remembers the look of heartbreak on Tom's face when he did. The boy understandably snapped at him shouting questions and accusations in the speed of light.

"I…" Harry looks up, meeting Tom's dark eyes and sweeps his hand up to scratch the back of his neck timidly. "I'm not…" He whispers, it's jagged and unsure. Harry certainly didn't expect the Dark Lord to be gay. Least of all attracted to him.

"You're not gay." Tom whispered, chuckling in resignation. "I know-"

"No." Harry cuts in, startling the other boy with his crooked smile. "I just didn't expect to return those feelings."

Harry's known he's been gay - well, bisexual - of course, known it for years. It wasn't frowned upon in the wizarding society like it was in the muggle one. Adam and Eve didn't really apply for wizards and witches when they had potions allowing any gender to give birth. The process was…odd, to say the least. Somewhat painful for men since they had to grow a vagina and uterus and such.

When Harry first found out men could give birth, it had been at seventeen - picturing himself pregnant - he wanted nothing more than to get drunk enough to burn that image from his brain with alcohol. It took a lot for the muggleborns to come to terms with it. More so for their parents.

Harry's own confession leaves Tom in a state of confusion. The poor boy was obviously expecting something along the lines of a rejection. It was Harry's first relationship with a man and surprisingly lenghty. It lasted throughout the rest of Hogwarts and into adulthood. After getting his degrees in teaching, Tom applied for the DADA job at Hogwarts and immediately gotten an acceptance letter. As for Harry, he went into the Auror profession. Big surprise. For the first five years after graduation, the two had settled into a nice house.

Then it happened.

A new Dark Lord rose up from nowhere. Starting a new war that raged on for four years. He and Tom were apart of the new Order run by Dumbledore himself. It reminded Harry bitterly of his past life. The war ends in the streets of Diagon Alley. Tom lands the final blow to the Dark Lord, revealed to be Lucius Malfoy, only to be hit back by the other man.

Tom's wet coughs wracked his body. Harry managed to catch him before he managed to fall and shouted: "I need a healer!"

"I'm fine." Tom says, leaning against his partner in exhaustion. His voice was rough, and his breathing was labored from exhaustion. He wrapped a cold shaking hand around one of Harry's wrists that was holding him up right and just stared at it. Harry closed his eyes is pain.

"You're not fine you idiot." Gently, he lowers them both down, holding Tom close to his body and almost sobbed when his partner lets out a cry of pain at the movement. "I'm sorry." He says, voice gentle and weak from holding back tears.

He's seen death long enough to know when getting a healer is worthless.

Tom reaches out with a trembling hand and cups the back of Harry's neck, pulling him close so their foreheads touch. "I'm dying." He whispers.

Harry breaths out raggedly. "…I know." Tom twists so he's looking up at his Avada green eyes. Those same eyes that he's woken up to every morning and loves.

"Harry…" With a soft sigh, Tom gazes at him. Resigned expression. "Thank you."

When Harry returns to Death, not so long after Tom dies and Harry's killed himself. Death greets him with a sympathetic smile. Of course he knew what had happened. He was the puppet master.

"I'm not going back to that universe."

Death shrugged and agreed.

Throughout the next reincarnations, he didn't make romantic ties.

. . .

One day, Death gets an odd request.

He was sitting in the Death Corp cafeteria, chatting away with Horus when his master dropped down opposite him with a huff and waved a hand at Horus to shoo the God away. The falcon-headed God let out an indignant squawk before storming off.

Death raised an eyebrow.

"That was rather rude-"

"I need a holiday." Harry cuts him off with a dead look in his eyes that makes the God shut his mouth with a snap.

He knew this would happen sometime, Harry was of course a mortal. 'Well,' Death thought with a leering look, 'just barely.' Taking his time, Death examined his master appreciatively. The man no longer held an air of innocence only a human could exude. The changes in Harry's demeanor and appearance started not long after he had officially accepted the mantle of his master. With the acceptance, came the package of Death's powers. Harry is spiritually bound to him, and he's spiritually bound to Harry. Vise Versa. It wasn't as romantic as it sounded. They were sort of like family. Like every other family, they hate each other. Well, Harry does, he's just enjoying the ride.

The difference in Harry was startling if he compared it to the first time he had met the mortal. It started with the hair. Harry's hair wasn't pure black; it always had a brown tint to it when light shined on it. Now though, it was as dark as the abyss outside the window. The hair was wild and a bit gravity defying, it fell around his face and framed his cheekbones. 'Ah, that's another thing that's different', Death thought in wonder. Harry's face was more shapely and sharp. One could cut oneself a loaf of bread if one pressed it against Harry's chin. His skin was also remarkably pale. He could almost say it was paler than his own, which in and of itself was startling since he's Death. Although, despite all of this. One thing (other than that rudding scar of his), no matter how long time has passed, never once changed.

His eyes.

'Those remarkably poisonous green eyes that seem to always glow', Death noted. No longer held captive behind those glasses of his. With his eyes and appearance, he doesn't even look human anymore. It made Death smile with pride. Never once has a human been converted into a God of Death. But give it a couple of more centuries he just might. It wasn't on his the list of things to do when he got Harry as a master, but it's now at the top.

"A holiday, hmm?" Considered Death, taking a sip at his pink milkshake. Ever since Harry showed him how to make one a couple of decades back, he's been hooked. "Any place in mind? Hawaii? Japan? You know, I've always wanted to cosplay."

"Not you." He sighed exasperated. Fixing the God with a cool stare. "Me. I'm tired. I just want a nice, stable reincarnation that doesn't give me any additional mental scarring. Could you do that?" Death decided to neglect the sarcasm for his own benefit.

"Why would I?" He asks disinterestedly, making a show of slurping his milkshake. Harry rolls his eyes and in a swift motion, grasps the straw. Squishing it and cutting off the flow of liquid. Death shoots him a dark look.

"Release the straw while you still have a limb."

"Give me my holiday."

Death gave him a sharp huff.

"You're the master, order me to. Or better yet, do it yourself. I know you're more than capable of kick starting your own reincarnations…Oho, don't tell me." Death purred and raised a perfect eyebrow. If Harry were a century younger he would have shivered. "You still don't know how to do it."

"I'm relatively new to the archives."

Death's smile grew.

"It's been a while. Procrastinating are we?"

"I can't exactly spend much time here before my skin starts decaying." Harry tried to explain.

"Still." He vexed, with a crease of his brow. "You've been here a while."

"Listen," said Harry desperately. Eyes flashing red momentarily. It shocked the God a bit. Considering that shouldn't have happened in the first place. "I'm tired."

"Take a nap."

Harry smiled bitterly. "Not that kind of tired. There's a difference between being in dire need of sleep and in dire need of peace. My soul is drained of being repeatedly reincarnated to your satisfaction. I want a holiday. Just one life where I don't have to do anything other than live peacefully."

Death considered this and had to admit, watching Harry's lives sing to his whims was getting a little old. He always knows what's going to happen because he's the one that creates all the chaos. He wondered. What would happen if he sent Harry into a world that's been untouched by his hand? His body vibrated in excitement at the thought of watching everything play out without his control. Although he isn't that generous, maybe a little push here a shove there. Just to get the ball rolling. Showing no outward sign as to what was going on inside his head, Death stared off with a thoughtful expression.

"So I can't come?" Harry snorted. "Rude…" He sighed heavily and gazed longingly out the window as though Harry was the hard one to deal with here. "Okay. I give in."

Harry's eyes lightened and released his grip on the straw. Almost instantly Death was upon his milkshake drinking feverishly.

"You have a serious problem."

"Shut up. It's delicious." After several seconds of silence, Harry rests his head against his enclosed hand.

"What changed your mind?" The words came out before Harry could even process them. "You're normally a control freak when it comes to you're Master and reincarnations." His tone teasing at the end. Despite his dark expression.

Death shot him an evil look from where he was perched precariously against his drink.

"Oh, go to hell."

"Couldn't even if I tried." Harry sang.

"Good one." Death snorts. "And to answer your question, I felt your angst." Harry took a second to process the odd answer.

"My what?"

Death sighed. "You're angst, kid. Jesus Christ on a breadstick." He scowled into his straw, twirling the patterned plastic around his lips. "There was so much of it I thought I was going to drown in a sea of self-loathing. It almost gave me hives. Me, Death! My immune system is impenetrable and yet you're angst turned me into a shriveling mess." He was bullshitting to the highest degree here. "You're issues have issues, brat. It's a wonder to how you're still standing upright and not a drooling mess on the carpet." A derisive snort interrupted him and his eyes swung up to meet Harry's cool ones.

"My mental wellbeing, or lack thereof, is all thanks to you."

"To be fair though, you're doing alright aren't you?"

Harry pressed his hands over his eyes and groaned.

"That's why I'm here asking you for a vacation, Death. I need a break or I will be a drooling mess on the floor."

Death hummed with a reluctant smile. For some strange reason, he felt a foreboding chill run down his spine.

. . .

One thing you may have noticed is where Death states that a human has never turned into a Death God. What I meant by that is an ACTUAL God. Not like William T. Spears. A Death God on par with power similar to Death's own. Probably should have made that clearer…heh.