Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Death Note. This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and both Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata respectively. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. So in short, don't sue me. It'd cost more in legal fees than you'd actually get, considering I own nothing. Oh I also don't own Jack Daniels (I'm not even old enough to drink it let alone own it) nor anything else you might recognize.

Authors Note: I am beyond shocked and flattered at the response I've gotten to this story. Just WOW! Thanks to those who've reviewed that was awesome! Also thanks to those who put this on their favorites and/or their story alerts, or in their communities. I'm telling you it was crazy seeing all the email alerts in my in-box. I'm sorry it took so long to get this out but my computer had a bit of a meltdown or rather part of the drive thingy melted. I don't really know all the details, I just know it made threatening noises, smelled like it was burning and shut down at random intervals but it's fixed now (until I somehow manage to break it with my computer idiocy.) I've gotten this typed out and proof read pretty fast, but not as thoroughly as last time so if the errors in this chapter are humongous I apologize in advance. I had thought to do some of this chapter from L's perspective, to show where he was in the story right now, but I've decided to hold off on that and possibly give him a chapter of his own, so no L yet. Harry will however be making a Death Note friend!

Oh and to Catzi, no the geographical reference I made to New Zealand in the last chapter was not aimed at Lord of the Rings (though that was a rather odd coincidence) No, I and by extension Harry, were referring to the fact that the south east of New Zealand is the antipodal point of London, that is the exact opposite of the world, the farthest Harry could possibly get from Britain without actually leaving the planet.

Well on with the story...


"Deathly Hallows, Death Notes, Saviors, and Sleuths"

By Pink Bismuth


Chapter Two: Second Thoughts, Bar Fights, and Friendships


It had been several weeks since Harry had first arrived in Japan and he was bored. Correction he was bored, irritated, lonely, and thoroughly conflicted.

He had done some sightseeing, tried new things, eaten raw fish (an experience he would not soon be repeating); but somehow he just wasn't satisfied.

Currently Harry was laying sprawled out in bed, staring at the television. It was, yet again another news report on this vigilante, who Harry now knew was named Kira. It would seem that Kira was all you could ever hear about on the telly these days. It did absolutely nothing for his resolve to stay out of it.

It was stupid really. As far as the ministry was concerned it was a muggle case, hardly his business. Who was he to say they were wrong? There was no real reason for him to get involved. This Kira person was only killing criminals and although it rubbed Harry the wrong way; it didn't quite rile up his hero complex as much as innocent victims would have. True he found it interesting, but it really didn't have anything to do with him.

He tried to just forget the whole thing. To leave it up to whomever was in charge, but every time he heard about it he got this peculiar feeling like there was something more to it. For some reason it just tugged at mind demanding his attention. It was that nagging feeling as though he were missing something; his gut was telling him to take a look.

Normally Harry listened to his instincts, they were usually pretty good. They certainly had saved his neck more times than he could count. But in this case he just wasn't sure he could trust them. Every time he started to give in to his gut the voice of reason in his head, the one that sounded so much like Hermione, would ask, 'Is there really more to it Harry? Or do you just want there to be more?'. Than he would start to doubt himself and question his instincts.

Similarly when Harry wrote his obligatory 'I'm still alive' letters to his family back home, all he did was vaguely mention the case before Hermione sent him a prompt response. It was a three page long lecture on the evils of giving into curiosity and getting involved in murder investigations while on vacation. She than went and told on him to Mrs. Weasley, who actually sent him a howler for not relaxing on vacation. Harry couldn't help but feel it was rather counterproductive to the relaxing process. Especially as he had to try and explain the blaring shouts to all the people staying on the same floor as him.

Even Andromeda got on his case in her weekly Teddy update letters she'd been sending him. Being a Slytherin she really had a knack for passive aggressive guilt trips.

As such, Harry was putting forth a conscientious effort to not think about the Kira case, it wasn't going so well. He'd already confirmed that the Japanese Ministry had investigated and closed the case. He just barely stopped himself from getting a copy of their findings.

Over the years he'd grown accustomed to always doing something. Whether it be work or family he was always active. He'd get up early and be the first in the office. He was the last to leave as he worked late nights trying to piece together his cases. He was the guy who camped out in the Auror Office, case files scattered around his cubicle; dictating a report to a recording quill, while simultaneously flipping through pieces of evidence. He would be surrounded by paper airplane memos rocketing around his head and noisy coworkers discussing anything and everything.

When he wasn't at work he would meet up with any number of the Weasley's and- his- well his ex-boyfriend and go out drinking, play Quidditch or just hang out.

And every weekend he'd have little Teddy over to stay with him for godson-godfather bonding time.

He had responsibilities, obligations, a social life, and public functions people constantly dragged him too; always a busy schedule.

Now, with his days so dreadfully free, how could he be sure he wasn't just making more of this Kira thing than there really was? Maybe he just wanted some mysterious case to come along and distract him from the things he really should be focusing on. Like relaxing and putting his life back together.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh as he grabbed the remote and turned off the television. Dropping it on the bed, he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling of his hotel room and let his thoughts wonder to the things he should be thinking about.

There was work, and there was family, and friends, and... now he was homesick. Tossing an arm over his eyes he sighed and asked himself, 'Should I go back? Do I even want too?'

He thought of his godson, his cub was growing so fast. Harry smiled thinking of the mini marauder and all the mischief he was probably causing. His smile dissolved though, as he thought about all he was missing out on.

Ron was probably torturing poor Hermione with hours of Quidditch talk now that he wasn't there to endure Ron's Chudley Cannons obsession. He thought of dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow, of George and the joke shop. He missed going to the pubs with Ginny, never could you find a more entertaining drunk. And he hardly knew how to operate properly without Hermione's mothering. He was so used to her organizing his schedule and reminding him to eat and sleep.

It was so very tempting to go back to all of that. But than he remembered the crazed fans that riffled through his rubbish, mobbed him in the streets or tried to steal his knickers.

'What use could they possibly have for my pants?' he now questioned before shuddering and deciding he didn't want to know.

He was a celebrity in Britain; people constantly watched him, photographed his every move, stared and pointed.

As much as he missed his family and as lonely as he felt, he loved that he could just leave the hotel; go wherever he wanted and not have to worry about being recognized. He didn't think he'd ever get over the thrill of being able to talk to someone without them gaping at his forehead.

Just the other day he had bumped into some rude woman on the street. "Who do you think you think you are, not watching where your going! Kids these days no respect...," she had ranted and all Harry could do was beam at her for her dismissive attitude. He was inordinately pleased any time he could just make small talk with someone without being berated with questions or stared at with awe. He knew it was pathetic but being just another face in the crowd was what he had always wanted. He just wanted to be normal, to blend in and after all these years of fame, to be left alone.

Away from home, he was free to enjoy those personal liberty's that so many people took for granted. The ability to just exist without being put under a microscope. To trip on his shoe laces and not have to read about how 'The Harry Potter' must have been drunk, in a magazine the next day. To feel free to chat with a person and not worry about it showing up in Witches Weekly as his newest love interest. To not have to question a person's motive for talking to him or if his choice of words were politically correct. He was just Harry here and he was loving it. Here, without his history constantly trailing behind him, he could blend in just fine.

Besides the freedom of being just Harry, there was also this great weightless feeling. There were no deadlines to meet or people whose safety depended on you. No having to feel so utterly exhausted. His time was not filled with working early mornings filling out tedious reports, to late nights patrolling.

If Harry was being honest, he'd admit that his job as an Auror didn't even interest him half the time. Sure every once in awhile a mysterious case would pop up that would grab his attention. But once it was over it was back to domestic disputes and bureaucratic technicalities.

Who knew the Wizarding world could be so mundane?

Harry certainly didn't, when imagining the work of an Auror he hadn't really considered the copious amounts of paperwork, or all the politics involved.

The Auror's were capable, three years of training prepared them to do amazing things; in times of peace it was all rather wasted. They were civil servants. And Harry especially, was usually employed in the political aspect of the job. You couldn't be the savior and head of both the Potter and Black families without getting dragged into politics. Hermione's pursuit in changing the world one house elf at a time hadn't helped him avoid the political arena either. After all if Harry Potter was backing a movement it must be the light thing to do.

Proudfoot, his boss, was always very specific about the jobs he assigned to him because those would be the ones that got the most attention. If Harry Potter was linked to an investigation the reporters were all over it. Thus Harry was always given either uninteresting grunt work to keep him 'modest' or high profile cases which were few and far between and expected to be finished in a hurry.

There were so many case he couldn't work because it could bring unwanted attention to them. He never got to go undercover even though he could disguise himself and field work was usually left to others as his fans sometimes showed up and got in the way. Between what few cases he was allowed to participate in, he often questioned if he really saved anyone or did anyone any good.

'They make it all sound so much more glamorous than it is,' he thought, slightly bitterly. He removed his arm from covering his face to glare up at the white ceiling. 'I should of just became a politician for all the good I accomplish.' He rolled his eyes, "Or a secretary, I'm practically one already with all the paperwork I do" he grumbled aloud to himself.

It was so frustrating to have no anonymity.

The most ridiculous part of it all was that it had been six years since he'd defeated Riddle. Six years and his fame had yet to diminish, if anything it grew. He supposed it made sense, the last time he'd made Tom disappear his fame had held out for ten years while he wasn't even there. Now he'd actually defeated him in front of witnesses and stuck around as a public figure. He was an image, he'd become the next Dumbledore without even realizing it. The Wizarding world was not going to let him go, he was their symbol of hope during the war and the defeater of the Dark Lord. He would be their hero whether he wanted to or not. Becoming an Auror only seemed to cement that fact.

Of course, admitting he had the Elder Wand hadn't helped his case any either. Yes, that was not one of his brighter moments, during that final show down with Riddle the crowd heard all about the wand. And like any information at Hogwarts, it later spread like wildfire.

He made it very clear to anyone who asked that he didn't have it any more, but they didn't believe him. That or they somehow deluded themselves into thinking he was so powerful he didn't need the wand. Of the two the first was actually right. He did have the wand, but that didn't mean he used it and he certainly didn't want them to know about it.

Harry was perfectly happy with his own wand and had every intention of returning the elder wand to Dumbledore's grave. The wand itself however had other ideas.

The magic of the Deathly Hallows, Harry had come to learn, was a very tricky thing and apparently you couldn't just unite the Hallows and walk away. A magical bond had been formed and it threw a real wrench into his plans. Harry thought he could just leave that stone in the forest and the wand at Hogwarts and go about his merry way, he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

Rolling over, Harry grabbed the Elder Wand from the nightstand to his right, before laying back down to continue staring at the white expanse above his bed, absently twirling the wand as he thought.

When he woke up in Gryffindor tower, the day after the war, he had gotten up to brush his teeth. And what should he have found in his right hand but the elder wand in place of his tooth brush! He tried to shake it off as an odd quirk of magic or some kind of delusion but that was not to be. When he later went to take a shower instead of the bar of soap that was just there moments before he found the Resurrection Stone. Harry chuckled as he remembered how he'd panicked and threw the stone, it had bounced off the wall and hit him in the head. It wasn't very entertaining at the time, but looking back Harry had to admit that the many failed attempts to get rid of the blasted things were funny. Apparently Magic had a sense of humor and those particular objects seemed to love to mock him. Eventually he admitted defeat and just kept them.

Their practically sentiment existence and stubborn refusal to leave him alone weren't the only effects from this whole Master of Death situation either. No events like this mark a person, in this instance in a physical way. Harry discovered an odd scar over his heart that hadn't been there before the final battle.

It was a vertical line symbolizing the Elder Wand, inside a circle symbolizing the Resurrection Stone, inside a triangle symbolizing the Invisibility Cloak; the Deathly Hallows mark. Whenever he touched one of those accursed objects the scar turned black.

It was, needless to say, a rather distinctive mark that Harry felt rather advertised his connection to the Hallows. Which he was not at all comfortable with. He didn't really think there was much likelihood of him touching the Hallows, without his shirt on, in public, but nevertheless he tried everything he could think of to cover it up. Constant Vigilance and all that. Unfortunately nothing seemed to work, even when he polyjuiced into someone else the scar and the mark still appeared.

Luckily Ginny came up with a solution for it one night when they were out drinking. Her idea was to just get a tattoo to cover it up. Although they were sure that a tattoo couldn't completely cover up the scar when it blackened; Ginny thought that if they made the tattoo incorporate the Hallow symbol while making it seem like it was something else it would distract the few people who would actually recognize it. And so Harry got his first, and if Mrs. Weasley had any say in it, his last tattoo.

Harry stopped twirling the wand, setting it down on the bed. Instead he looked down at the left side of his bare chest at his tattoo, it really did have a lot of symbolic meaning. Even if he didn't have anything to cover up he'd still want this tattoo. It had the the Hallow symbol but the corners of the triangle had small circles over top of them. The top corner's circle had the name Prongs inscribed with the outline of a stage, the bottom right corner read Padfoot with a grim and the left had Moony with a werewolf howling at a moon. The vertical line had a lily wrapped around it (a very manly lily mind you) and the whole thing had another circle going around it. The words "I Solemnly Swear" written above the tattoo and than "That I'm Up To No Good" beneath it. It was a living memorial to the marauders and his mother and sufficiently distracted from the Hallow symbol. When he was touching a Hallow and the scar blackened it was barely discernible through the inked lines unless you were looking very closely. So it was well hidden, after all who was staring that closely at his chest?

'Oliver,' Harry's traitorous mind supplied, memories of all the times Oliver would just stare at his tattoo popping into his head.

'He really did like my tattoo' he smiled sadly only to be replaced by a scowl, 'Wonder if that Smith bastard has a better tattoo.'

He than huffed in annoyance for comparing himself to that bastard. 'Oliver wouldn't cheat just because of a tattoo,' he told himself.

But than why did he? What was it about himself that made him so unlovable?

'Don't be stupid,' he told himself 'You've got Hermione and Ron and the rest of the Weasley's not to mention Teddy, they all love me,' he asserted. He knew this now, they made sure he knew. They were family, they loved him. He was not unlovable, he was not a freak.

So than what was Oliver's problem?

Harry sighed and asked himself the same question that had continued to plague his thoughts since their break up.

'What did I do wrong?'

Was it really his fault that Oliver had cheated? He had always been busy with work, did he neglect Oliver, drive him away? Could he really blame him for not wanting to be Harry Potter's boyfriend? Harry himself was now running from the attention. Was it hypocritical to condemn Oliver for not wanting all that bother just for him? Harry would never claim to be the most romantically inclined person, in fact he was quite romantically inept. Didn't Oliver deserve better than emotionally damaged goods?

'Maybe, but I deserved better than being cheated on,' he thought tiredly, letting out a sigh. Logically he knew that, now if only he could convince his heart.

He rolled over unto his side to stare at the gaudy painting on the wall. It had a bunch of naked midgets, er, maybe they were just ugly cherubs, dancing around a tree. He rolled around to his other side decidedly glad muggle portraits didn't talk and stared at the clock instead.

It was 10:00 pm.

10:00 pm, in Tokyo, on vacation, and he was sitting in his hotel room moping. That just wouldn't do. He had to get out of here; go out for a drink maybe?

Nodding to himself he decided that a good drink or two (or eight) might be just what he needed. He got up and dressed tossing on a dark green tee shirt and a black, wool, v-neck sweater; he already had on a pair of dark jeans that he felt were nice enough to go out in. So after going to the bathroom to valiantly try to comb out his hair, he gathered his coat and made his way out of the hotel.

He had seen a nice enough looking bar just down the street the day before, it was quiet but not awkwardly empty. It was also rather westernized which he supposed defeated the purpose of being in Tokyo. But he'd had enough of the Japanese experience, he needed something closer to home. He would have a few drinks, relax, make some more small talk, and revel in the normalcy of it all.

When he stepped into the place he noticed it was fairly crowded but had an all around laid back feeling. He took a seat at the bar, as there were no tables open, and attempted to waved down the bartender. He was scanning the crowds with vague interest when his ears caught the sound of a rather distinct American accent and his eyes where drawn to the little table to his left.

It was a man in his late twenty's, he looked rather tired, frustrated even. He had a long face and Harry guessed he must have been of mixed Asian and American decent. Sitting across from him was an equally frustrated looking woman with black hair and a heart shaped face. Although they were both holding hands they seemed to be arguing about something. Harry couldn't hear them very well from where he sat.

'Not my business anyways, when did I get so nosy?' Harry thought, 'that determined look she's got reminds me of Ginny though, poor guy doesn't stand a chance.'

As he turned back to the bar though, he couldn't help but smile at the way they kept holding each others hands throughout their argument. They both had that undeniable look of love. It was that dopey look of worship couples have in their eyes when looking at each other, even when fighting. They made a nice couple.

The bar tender, a lanky looking young man who strongly reminded him of Stan Shunpike, asked for his order. He opened his mouth to ask for a beer but was distracted when the man from before stood abruptly, a determined look on his face and rushed out the door. The woman was left looking depressed and then preceded to place her face tiredly in her hands. The small smile he had disappeared. When the bar tender called for his attention once more Harry turned his gaze back to him, but not before catching sight of the silver glint of his ring.

"I'll have a Jack Daniels," he said as he shoved his left hand in his coat pocket and then added, "on the rocks". There, now he needn't feel guilty, it was watered down. Harry snorted at himself, who was he kidding he was going to leave this bar pissed. Ice never seemed to help him with Firewhiskey and he doubted this would be any different.

Letting out a sigh, he took a sip of his drink as his eyes wondered the room once more. There was general merriment and it seemed he wasn't the only foreigner drawn to the westernized appeal.

There was a hansom blond a few tables down who appeared to be checking him out. Harry tried not to look too pleased with himself when the guy winked at him. Harry looked away to hide his grin, 'Well that's flattering' he couldn't help but think, but then his grin turned a bit sad, 'flattering but impossible'. He took another large sip of his drink, pointedly not looking the blond's way.

That's when he noticed some ugly lush leaning over the woman from before. The man was hefty, balding, and apparently couldn't take a hint as he determinately ignored her lack of interest in whatever pathetic pickups he was doubtlessly employing. The lady seemed to be getting increasingly annoyed at the drunks persistence, much to the amusement of the drunkard's friends who were all laughing uproariously at his failure.

Harry frowned however, he didn't like how they were crowding her. 'Get a clue already, she's not interested.'.

The drunk brushed some of her hair behind her ear much to her apparent discomfort. Harry's eyes narrowed no he really did not like this.

The man then leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was it really set her off; she jumped out of her seat and slapped him. She grabbed her purse and made to leave but the drunk stood in her way. He than went to grab her arm. Harry was out of his seat and next to them in a flash, putting himself between her and the man.

"There a problem here gentlemen?" he asked glaring down the man and his friends keeping alert for the first sign of a fight.

"No prob'em jus make'n friends," slurred the drunk with a hazy scowl, swaying as he backed away from Harry.

"She's already got a friend and if the slapping early didn't clue you in, I don't think she wants any more," Harry responded firmly, eyes narrowed, mouth set into a frown.

In his mind though he was wondering why he'd just insinuated they were friends, maybe they could be friends after this. He pondered that, quite fond of the idea of finally making a friend in Japan; when he noticed the drunk seemed ready to argue.

'Well aren't you persistent,' Harry thought as he watched some of the man's friends start to argue with the guy about leaving.

The bar tender just seemed to be watching the whole scene frozen, as though not knowing what to do.

'Probably hasn't been bar tending very long then' Harry thought as he turned his attention back to the hefty drunk.

Looking him over, he appeared middle aged and about to pass out anytime now; Harry was sure he could take him without magic.

Than he was suddenly struck with the thought of how hilarious Ginny would find him getting into a muggle bar fight.

Harry sighed, and this was how he relaxed on vacation? He was going to get another howler. Or arrested by the muggle authorities; wouldn't that just do him a load of good. He'd have to alert the Japanese Ministry of his arrest as was protocol, and it would leak somehow, it always does. Then it's front page news, he could just see the headlines now: "Potter in Muggle Prison: Boy Who Lived to Bar Fight".

Slowly Harry let the irritation fill him as he thought of how much this drunken moron could screw up his vacation. The swelling anger must have shown on his face, because the men slowly started tensing up and some even backed away from him. The woman herself, who had remained silent as she observed where this was going, looked rather nervous at the anger Harry was sure was now radiating off of him.

People had always said he was an open book with his emotions and had his mother's temper.

He really wanted to curse this guy, his hand was just itching for the wand, secured in the disillusioned holster to his side. But he knew he couldn't, well, he could but the Obliviators at the Japanese Ministry for magic would not be at all pleased if he did.

So instead, he reined in his anger, turned on the bright smile he usually saved for politicians, and started acting the role of peace keeper.

The man and his friends seemed rightly confused and at least one of them seemed slightly scared by the swift mood shift.

"We're all adults here," Harry started, his eyes took in the rumpled business suits the men were wearing 'Ah office drowns' he thought.

"We all came here to get drunk and wind down from a hard days work I'm sure," he continued in a complying voice. "I think we've all just gotten a bit worked up because we're not drunk enough yet,".

That seemed to throw them off. Pausing, he smiled as he raised his hand to point at the main drunk.

"To fix this you'll apologize to the lady for being too friendly," Harry than gestured to the woman who looked confused by the turn of events and annoyed at the way he had phrased that.

"She'll accept your apology," Harry glanced at her, quickly catching her rebellious look. He continued before she could let out whatever scathing response she was surely about to spout.

"And for being such a good sport I'll buy you and your friends a round at the bar and we'll all pretend we had a great night!" he gestured to the bar. The bartender let out a squeak when they all turned to look at him. Harry tried not to laugh.

"What do you say?" Harry finished, raising an eye brow, tilting his head toward the bar. He slipped a warning tone into the last part hoping the arse would just take the offer without things turning into a big production.

The guy seemed unsure at first, but after some urging from his more sober companions he relented. He apologized, doing a fairly half-arsed version of a bow, clearly not all that sorry. However the woman herself gave a rather lackluster show of forgiveness and muttered something sounding suspiciously like bastard under her breath.

Harry wasn't about to nitpick, he ordered the group of idiots a round of drinks and turned to the woman who had yet to leave.

He opened his mouth to introduce himself and apologize on behalf of the male gender but she interrupted him.

"I didn't need any help," she insisted practically pouting at him, arms crossed looking less like an adult and more like a two year old.

Harry couldn't help it he burst out laughing. She had, had such a serious, tough, cool, look about her before and yet now she was sulking like a toddler. And the way she said that, it was just such a Ginny thing to say; his earlier comparison of the two came back to him and he laughed all the harder. He had felt homesick, had missed going to the pub with Ginny, and than who should he end up saving at a bar but Ginny's Asian reincarnation.

The woman just gave him this annoyed look thinking he was laughing at her earlier assertion; her huff of irritation just made Harry laugh more. He did try to quell his laughter and explain though.

"S-sorry it's just ha-ha-ha-ha- I-ha- you-ha-ha- remind me of a friend- a-ha-ha-ha-ha- that look," he pointed at her face "What you said-" more laughter, "not that funny- just- fate!"

At the look she gave him, one that clearly stated what she though of his mental state, he calmed down enough to attempt to explain himself.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you, you just remind me of a friend of mine I was thinking about earlier, just an odd coincidence,"

She still looked at him funny, "Sorry, just haven't had much to laugh at lately," he muttered embarrassed, looking down at the drink in his hands, thinking that may have had something to do with it too. Apparently she thought so too for she sent a disapproving look to his glass of Whiskey.

"Hey I am not drunk," Harry defended himself in a surprisingly teasing tone and a pout of his own. She looked disbelieving. "If I were drunk could I have diffused that situation?" he continued nodding his head to the group of drunks.

He could see she was trying not to smile as she responded, "Your solution was to get them more to drink."

Harry tilted his head and gave her the conciliatory grin he usually reserved for Hermione when she disapproved of something, "But it worked didn't it?". She smiled at that one.

"So it did," she conceded, "And even though it wasn't necessary, thank you all the same."

"Your welcome" he responded amused. "My name's Harrison but please call me Harry, Harry Evans" he told her, extending a hand to shake.

While here in Japan, Harry had opted to go under a different name so as not to arouse any attention from those who might be looking for him. He also had a hunch about the Kira case that just made it all around safer to have an alias. All his paperwork said Harrison Evans. He felt it would only be obvious to those who specifically knew his mother's maiden name and George's new favorite nickname for him. Why George found referring to him as Harrison amusing he'd never understand, he thought maybe there was an inside joke he didn't know about. Either way it was close enough to his own name so that he could still be just Harry, yet different enough to hide behind.

She looked at him for a second like she suspected he was holding back before taking his hand to shake.

"My name's Naomi Mi-aki, Naomi Miaki" she responded.

Harry gave her a pointed look for a second, she hesitated on her last name, it seemed like she was going to say something else.

'But why?' he questioned. Looking at her, he could see she seemed somewhat vexed by her slip up, though she was hiding it well; Harry was trained to notice these things. He decided to shrug it off though, he was giving her a false name so who was he to complain?

"It was nice to meet you Evans-san-"

"Please call me Harry"

"Harry-san, but I should be going, my fiance is probably worried"

Harry flinched, the word fiance was a biting one for him, but at the same time he smiled. So they were engaged, he was glad they looked good together.

"Of course, I think I should probably leave as well before I get into another bar fight."

"Indeed," she responded with a smirk.

They both made their way to the door, stepping onto the side walk outside, they turned toward each other to say goodbye before they went there separate ways.

"Good evening Miaki-"

"If I call you Harry-san you should call me Naomi," she interrupted.

"My apologies, Good Evening Naomi-san," Harry said before smirking and adding "Try not to slap anyone on the way home."

They both laughed before they prepared to go their separate ways. That is until they both turned right and started going in the same direction.

Naomi frowned at him as she asked "Are you following me?"

Startled Harry answered, "No of course not, my hotel's this way, are you following me?" he countered looking at her suspiciously, she didn't look like a stalker. But then again, half of them didn't until they were hiding in your closet, building a shrine out of a lock of your hair and the pants you threw out the week before.

"What hotel are you staying at?" she asked.

He wondered why she was so defensive and wondering if he should give out such information, but decided to answer anyways. He named his hotel and wouldn't you know it, she and her fiance were staying at the same one. Again with the odd coincidences. Well this was just positively providential maybe he really would be making a new friend today.

They walked back together after finally establishing that neither was stalking the other and found they got along quite well. Although Harry was just getting back into the muggle world and thus not up to date on all the recent events, it didn't seem to impede their conversation. Indeed they seemed to have a lot in common and ended up chatting like old friends.

Harry learned that Naomi used to work for the FBI before retiring to start a family. Family was very important to her but she was also a workaholic which was why she had to choose definitively which one to dedicate to.

They both shared that struggle between family and work.

Harry told her about his failed relationship with Oliver which surprised him as he'd hardly spoken to anyone about it. It felt good to talk about, especially with someone who wasn't involved, someone who could just look at from an objective stand point. He even told her about quitting his job, though he avoided actually putting a name to what he did. He suspected she understood, if only vaguely what kind of job he had, had from what little he mentioned. She was pretty perceptive. He changed the subject to something else.

"I- Well I did see your fiance before he left actually," Harry admitted during their conversation, tactfully leaving out that he'd noticed them arguing.

"Oh? Well his name's Ray, he was raised in America. We normally live in America, but we came to Japan to visit my parents," she blushed a little, "you probably noticed us arguing".

Harry was about to deny it but she quickly started to talk again.

"It's no big deal or anything, it's not like we usually argue, it's just we're both really stubborn, and stressed, and this whole situation with Ki-" she cut herself off flustered, seemingly saying more than she meant to.

Harry froze, she was about to say Kira, he knew it. And then something clicked. That was why she hid her real name, she must have noticed Kira needed a name and a face.

It was a theory Harry had formed about Kira (not that he was forming theories about Kira, because he was not involved, not at all). But from what little he had found out in passing he came to the conclusion that Kira couldn't just kill anyone he wanted. After watching a rerun of the Lind L. Tailor incident it became apparent. Kira killed Tailor but not L, meaning there were limits to Kira's powers. It made Harry wonder if maybe Kira needed a face and/or a name to kill.

Than, one day he noticed that a few of the names of Kira's victims, mentioned on the news sounded familiar. Next thing he knew, Harry was writing down the names of the criminals mentioned on the news and checking them off as they were named Kira's next victims. He only killed the ones whose pictures and names were on the news. It confirmed his theory, er his vague idea. Most definitely not a theory, no he was not forming theories. He was not investigating this case.

Harry shook his head to diffuse his denial filled thoughts as he sneaked a look at Naomi. They were both walking along quietly nearing the hotel, she was decidedly ignoring what she'd just said. She than broke the silence by changing the subject; asking him what he planed to do while here in Japan, detailing some of her own plans. Thus absent, halfhearted, small talk was established; each obviously busy thinking about something else.

'What does she know about Kira? More importantly why does she know it?' Then it struck him 'She said she used to be an FBI agent, was she lying about retiring? Were the FBI involved in the Kira case?'

It seemed probable but he didn't think she was lying about retiring. She seemed genuine enough when they had been talking and besides, why would she even admit to once being FBI if she was undercover? Maybe she was just interested in the case like he was, fell into that old occupational instinct, a slave to her own curiosity.

He nodded it made sense, but still he had a lingering feeling that there was something more to it.

'She was going to say 'this whole situation with Kira'.' Just professional curiosity wasn't what one would refer to as a 'situation' though. 'She made it sound closer to home, like the case effected their relationship personally somehow.'

Harry continued to sneak looks at her as he thought, contributing a bit more to their conversation. Finally they made their way into the hotel lobby where Naomi's fiance was waiting.

He immediately ran to Naomi and hugged her apologizing for their fight earlier and asking why she'd taken so long to get back. It was clear he had been worried sick about her. It was sweet, and it made Harry's heart ache. He decided to slip away not wanting to ruin the moment but that was not to be. Naomi suddenly remember he was there and hurried to introduce him to her fiance, telling him all about how Harry helped her at the bar.

"Thank you for helping my fiance, my name's Ray- Iwamatsu"

There was only the briefest of hesitation before the last name. Harry wouldn't have caught it, had he not been expecting it. 'So he knows to hide his name too, but do they believe they're actual targets for Kira or are they just being paranoid? Why do they think Kira would want to kill them?' They certainly didn't strike him as criminals, 'Naomi used to be FBI though, professional caution maybe just being careful? Maybe...' Drifting away from thoughts of Kira, he couldn't help but be amused at the possessive tone the man used when referred to Naomi. Or how he had his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

'How to let him know I'm not after his fiance?' Harry questioned himself.

"It was no problem Iwamatsu-san, I'm very glad I met Naomi-san," Harry allowed himself a mental laugh at the way the man's eyes narrowed at that before continuing, staring him straight in the eye he said, "She reminds me a lot of my adopted sister, your very lucky to have her.".

Harry than went in for the kill, dragging his eyes very obviously over Ray's form and smirking "Of course she's pretty lucky too". Harry than pretended to mutter making sure it was loud enough for Ray to hear, "Why are all the good men taken?"

Harry's eyes were drawn to Naomi as she out a strangled laugh, than switching over to her now bright red fiance. He had to try very hard to hide his amusement and hold back his laughter as he said goodbye.

"Well, I er, ought to be going now, good night than, Naomi-san, Iwama-"

"Y-you can call me Ray, I mean, since you call Naomi by her name and all..." Ray trailed off awkwardly, still a shade of red Harry had thought was only achievable by a Weasley.

Harry smile, "Ray-san, have a nice evening." He turned to start toward the elevator, but was stopped by Naomi calling after him.

"Harry-san what do you say to having lunch with us tomorrow? You know, as a thank you for helping me out at the bar?"

"Oh you don't need to thank me or anything, really I'm happy to help," Harry quickly tried to reassure.

Naomi just smiled, "No I insist besides I really enjoyed our conversation earlier, your probably the first friend I've made since coming back to Japan. And I really want to hear more about this adopted sister I so remind you of."

After seeing that Ray also wished for Harry to join them he instantly agreed, beyond happy to have made a new friend. Nodding a final goodbye to the couple, he entered his room much happier than when he had left it.

He'd made a potential friend in Japan.

'Right when I'm feeling lonely I get a new friend, maybe fate doesn't hate me after all,' Harry thought happily as he got comfortable in his bed.

It was odd, Harry couldn't remember making friends so easily in the past. It actually made him a little nervous wondering why it had been so easy to befriend them. But than he supposed his trouble with being sociable when he was younger had been due to Dudley's bullying and later because of the fame; something had just always played against him.

He turned on the television, he'd gotten far too used to the background noise.

"-this is NHN's Kumaizumi Seiji reporting on the latest news-"

Harry didn't pay it much attention, much too distracted with his thoughts.

'Maybe I shouldn't be so surprised' Harry thought as he yawned.

Laying down to drift off to sleep, his last conscious thoughts were, 'After all what could possibly go wrong?'

"-another case of heart attacks in the previously listed criminals have been reported today. Oddly enough, each was exactly one hour apart. Authorities have not yet made a statement, other than their belief that it is the work of Kira-"

Yes what could possibly go wrong?


Authors Note: There we go another chapter, so tell me what you think!