Author's note: Hello! It's me again. I know what you're thinking. 'Oh God, it's her again' right? But yeah, I'm back. I'm not dead. This story is very, um, weird and very badly written. Though all of my stories are badly written. Anyway, This is a Avengers and Harry Potter crossover. Harry falls in love with Loki. I know. Weird. But I couldn't get the idea for this story out of my head since I saw that "British Avengers" pic. So yeah. This is only going to be a few chapters. Around 7-10. I've already written most of the other chapters but I'm only gonna upload them if anyone even reads this. I just want to get this out of the way before I continue my other stories. I will continue them but as school is starting next week, I don't know when I can update. So, thank you so much for reading and if you can, please review! It would mean so much to me. Even if you don't like this story, I would love to know how to improve my writing. BTW, the first part of this chapter is just an explaination of how Harry got to New York and other stuff that will be important later on. Oh and I apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes.
Harry bit his lip as he unscrewed the bottle of pills. How did everything manage to get this bad? He defeated Voldemort. He ended a freaking war.
You'd think things could only get better from that but no. Everything just became worse. Rumours started spreading, accusing Harry of defeating the Dark Lord with even darker magic. They accused him of turning into a new dark wizard and everyone believed them. Even his so-called friends.
The only one who stuck by him was Ginny but that relationship was shot in the face after Harry admitted he was gay. She quickly became an enemy and added to the growing rumours.
He had no one. He had no reason to live. He had fulfilled the prophecy; his duty was done. So, this was his way out.
He felt happy, peaceful even, at the fact that he would be reunited with his family. His real family. He swallowed all thirty pills and lay back on his bed with a smile, closing his eyes and going to sleep.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his room. He was standing in Kings Cross. It looked exactly like it did the last time. So clean and white.
Harry swore loudly."Why the Hell am I here? I should be dead!" He groaned when there was no reply. Where was Dumbledore?
"You cannot die." An eerie echoing voice said.
Harry jumped at the sudden voice and looked around wildly. "Who is that? I swear if it's you Dumbledore, I'm not going to go destroy any more bloody Horcruxes!"
"I am Death." The same eerie voice whispered.
"D-death?" Harry asked as he began to feel increasingly cold. " Why am I here?"
The painfully bright Kings Cross started getting dark and a thick mist made it hard for him to see.
Why is is getting so dark and cold? It's like there's a Dementor attack.
"You cannot die." The voice repeated but this time, the voice came from behind him. Harry spun around and to his horror, there stood a Dementor. Perfect.
Harry frantically searched his pockets and sleeves while backing away, trying to look for the Elder Wand. The Dementor held up a slimy scabbed hand as if to signal for him to stop. Harry stopped and stared at the Dementor. Then he realised, he could not hear his mother screaming, he could not hear his father and he did not spiral into a never-ending darkness. He just felt freezing cold.
The Dementor spoke. "You cannot die, Harry Potter."
Harry stared at the Dementor. His fingertips were beginning to feel numb.
"Wait, y-you're Death? But you're a D-dementor... And I can't die?"
"Not exactly. I am a Dementor and I am Death but I do not feed on human happiness; I feed on human death." Death paused as Harry raked his hand through his hair and bit his lips.
"You are the only person in history to reunite the three Hallows."
Neither had moved while talking but suddenly, Harry fell to his knees. He started shaking his head, eyes closed,, muttering 'No' repeatedly. He could not believe what he was hearing. This had to be some ridiculous hallucination from all the drugs he consumed. It could not be real. This could not be happening.
"But I don't even have the Resurrection Stone anymore!" Harry exclaimed as he stared at the floor, still on his knees.
"Yes, but you used it while being the owner of the Invisibility Cloak and the master of the Elder Wand. No one has used it or even seen it since. You are the rightful owner of the Stone, you are in possession of the Invisibility Cloak and you are the master of the Elder Wand."
Harry's eyes were closed and his breathing became shallow. He couldn't take it. He screamed, his emotions taking over him. He would never die. He would never see his mother or father ever again. Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore. He'd never see them.
"But you're Death! That must be something you can do! You take lives! Why not mine?" Harry shouted as he stood up abruptly.
Death ignored him and turned away. As Death glided away, he said "You are the Master of Death, Harry Potter. My Master. It could be a curse or a blessing... Get on the train back." And with that, Death disappeared.
Harry yawned as he wiped the bar counter in his small pub. After his encounter with Death thirteen years before, Harry had accepted that dying was not an option and decided to get away from the ridiculous rumours. And here he was, thirteen years later, in his own British pub right in the middle of New York City. The Common Room.
It was a dusty, dark pub but Harry loved it more than anything. He straightened up and caught sight of himself in the long mirror across the room. He couldn't see himself clearly but he didn't need it to know that he looked exactly like he did when he was eighteen. He hadn't aged since the war ended. That was one of the worst things of being immortal. He had to move every time people had gotten suspicious. Harry looked away from the mirror and continued cleaning.
It was odd how Harry enjoyed the past three years living in New York. Everyone was so busy and they minded their own business. It was so much peaceful then being back in Britain. He would sneeze and the Daily Prophet would write an article about his "highly contagious disease that even St. Mungo's Healers couldn't cure." It was somehow relaxing to hear drunks ramble about how their lives sucked every night. Now that Voldemort was gone and Harry was gone from the rumours, he was more bubbly and cheerful.
Harry checked his watch and sighed. It was almost two in the morning and the pub was empty. Might as well close up. He walked out from behind the bar counter and started stacking up the chairs and tables. Just as he finished stacking up all the chairs, he heard the door open. He sighed and turned around.
"Sorry, I'm closi-" Harry stopped. The man standing at the door was handsome. His pale blue eyes were filled with worry and his thin lips were set in a grim line. He raked a hand through his shaggy black her as he gazed at Harry intently.
"But you look like you could use a drink." Harry continued. He walked behind the bar counter and gestured to a stool in front of him. The tall stranger walked slowly and sat down, eyes still focused on Harry.
Harry could feel himself starting to blush. "I-Uh, what do you want to drink?"
"Anything. I have no preference." He replied, smiling slightly.
Shit. Who the Hell is this guy? He looks like a freaking God. Harry thought. And he doesn't sound American. He stood there, staring at him until he realised the stranger had responded.
"Oh, um, right, uh scotch on the rocks?" Harry said, flustered. He moved away to pour his drink and could see the stranger's amused look out of the corner of his eyes.
Harry passed him his drink and the stranger nodded in thanks. Harry watched him as he drank. He stared back. He didn't seem... Human. There was something strange about him. Was he another wizard?
"So, what's your name?" Harry said, trying to sound casual.
"Loki." He replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.
He even has the name of a God.
"And yours?" He said before taking another sip. He licked his lips and Harry felt his insides melt.
"Um, Harry. Harry Potter." He said, biting his lips.
Loki's smirk faltered and his eyes flickered up to Harry's scar. Harry flattened his fringe over it awkwardly.
"I did not come here for a drink actually. " Loki admitted, blue eyes staring into Harry's.
"Uh t-then why?" Harry asked, unable to look away from his eyes.
"I was compelled to. Intrigued by something in here... Or someone. " His voice was no more than a whisper now. "There is a strange atmosphere surrounding here. Might that be because of you?"
"Well, I am very strange. I will admit that. " Harry said, smiling.
Harry blushed as Loki smirked at him.
He felt like he could not function properly with him staring like that. Loki was way too attractive to be human. And there was some sort of electricity between them. Harry longed to run his fingers through Loki's hair and caress his cheek.
Stop thinking like that! He'd never be interested in you. Get a grip! Harry scolded himself.
Loki finished his drink and stood up. But just as Harry was about to clear his glass, Loki bent over the counter and moved a hand to Harry's chin, tilting it up. Loki leaned forward and slowly placed his lips on Harry's. Their kiss was soft but hard. Burning with a passion so strong and filled with lust but yet still so sweet and romantic.
Slowly, and reluctantly, Loki pulled away. He looked deeply into Harry's eyes and smiled.
"I like strange, Mr Potter." He whispered breathlessly. "I will be back. Soon."
He turned away and walked out, leaving behind a flustered Harry staring after him.
I just kissed a complete stranger. Well, a gorgeous stranger but still. Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He looked down at the glass Loki drank from.
Wait, that bastard didn't pay for his drink!