EDITED:

I don't think you understand how long it took me to finally find an appropriate term for Allen to call Harrick. I mean, I wanted something cutesie, but I wanted Allen to stay in character as much as possible (though, that's kinda hard). So, I was just about to give up and go with Mam/Ma'am when I realized, hey, Harrick is DEATH. There has to be a name for death that would work. And there was. A lot of names. It was far more fun than it probably should have been.

I don't own D Gray Man or Harry Potter.


In the end, Harrick didn't go back to sleep.

There was too much to be done within the waking world for the immortal to waste her time on dreams.

Leaving her boys to fight out their excess energy, Harrick slipped from the bed, rolling her shoulders twice as she let her powers morph her form.

She stretched, reaching her arms up, feeling her insides twist and her muscles broaden as she swung her arms back down.

With a final yawn, Harrick shuffled out of Allen's bedroom. His boys were going to be hungry when they realize the 'mother' of the family was no longer lounging in bed.

He rubbed his eyes as he entered the kitchen, the shouting thankfully becoming fainter the more walls he put between him and the fight.

"Now, what to make," the immortal wondered, checking the kitchen for food. Each cabinet came up empty, not even a crumb to be found. "I could have sworn we had food yesterday."

Harrick stared at the cabinets blankly, not yet awake enough for problem solving.

"Screw it," he muttered, one hand raised to hold back the yawn that threatened to escape. He snapped the fingers of his free hand, the sound resonating through the room before food materialized on the counter.

Eyeing the length of goods before him, Harrick nodded firmly.

"In your face, Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," he snickered, gathering his newly created supplies.

He whistled to himself as he danced around the kitchen, whipping up a meal fit for an army. His boys really needed to eat more, Molly would be ashamed with how skinny they were.

Harrick's song died down when he heard the distant thumping die down, the apartment suddenly quiet except for the shifting of his clothing and the sizzling of meat.

"If you two succeeded in killing each other, I will be very annoyed!" Harrick hollered, conjuring up three panda-shaped plates and chopsticks. He strategically set the table, maneuvering the chairs so everyone was the exact distance from one each other.

He didn't want another argument about how Allen was closer than Marian or how Marian wasn't far enough away. It stopped being amusing after his boys started throwing his perfectly good food around like animals.

Harrick picked up his humming as he carefully dished out the white rice, placing the pekking duck on top. Of course, he then gave Allen's plate an extra helping of garlic broccoli. He wanted his student to grow up big and strong after all.

The Master of Death paused, trying to think of what drinks to get, when his two boys finally arrived, warily peering in through the doorway.

"Harrick, you're not having an episode, are you?" Marian asked, inching into the room. As Harrick blinked in confusion, Allen darted into the kitchen, grabbing everyone's preferred drinks. "You do realize that it is eight in the morning."

The immortal huffed, offended. "I'll just give your plate to Allen then. I'm sure you can find some oatmeal if you look hard enough."

Marian's arms shot up, admitting defeat in a heartbeat. "You're the cook; I will bow to your wisdom."

Harrick narrowed his eyes playfully, watching with amusement as the General backed up to the table and sat down, his arms still in the air. "As you say," he sniffed imperiously.

Marian opened his mouth for a no doubt snarky response, only to fully register his meal.

"Is this your not-so-subtle way of saying you want to go to China?" he asked as Harrick plopped himself down, his chopstick poised to dig into his food. He hadn't had duck in decades.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the immortal argued, nibbling on a piece of meat. It was better than he expected, sweet and juicy.

"Why would you want to go to China, Lord Harrick?" Allen piped in, blinking curiously up at his mentor.

Harrick wondered how the adorable little waif was so bipolar. He was very amusing only a few hours ago. Hell, the boy was a miniature demon towards Marian, but practically angelic with the immortal.

"Why wouldn't I want to go to China?" Harrick threw back at Allen. The boy's eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"You just want to see a panda," his partner muttered into his duck.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to see a panda," the immortal snapped. "I dare you."

"Lord Harrick, what's so great about pandas?" Allen tried again.

Harrick froze.

"The sheer number of things wrong with that sentence," he whispered, horrified. His mind nearly broke trying to understand why someone wouldn't want to see a panda. It was practically blasphemous.

"Doesn't matter, seeing as we're not going to China," Marian announced, taking a sip from his large wine glass.

"No, silence Marian," Harrick reached out blindly, smooshing his hand into the General's face. "This is more important than your pointless posturing. We're going to China, you were already planning on it even before I arrived. Allen. Allen, pandas are adorable and everyone should love them. I thought we went over this earlier."

"But, Lord Harrick, I thought dogs-" the teenager tried to argue.

"And another thing!" he steam-rolled over his student's words. "I thought I said not to call me Lord Harrick? It's so boring! Repeat after me, 'Mo-ther', come on, you can do it."

"That seems very inappropriate, Lord Harrick," Allen reasoned. "You are one of my teachers and of titled nobility."

Harrick groaned, his head falling to slam against the table. Cross patted his head in sympathy, his large hand practically swallowing the smaller man's skull.

"I warned you," he said simply.

"You did," Harrick whined into the tabletop. After a moment of self-pity, he popped back up, Cross's hand falling down his spine to rest near his hips.

Neither man thought much off it, missing the thoughtful look Allen shot them.

"Just call him 'Fraulein'," the General advised, taking an absentminded sip of wine. "It gets the point across rather well."

Allen's face exploded with color, his bright scar very nearly blending in with the flood of red. Harrick's reaction wasn't as passive.

"Call me that again and I'll break your wrist," he hissed furiously. Marian might not understand the language, but the shape shifter's threatening grip on his wrist more than got the point across.

Not ready to let go, Cross leaned forward with a seductive grin. "You'd never hurt me, love."

Harrick's inhuman eyes twinkled maliciously. "Do you want to tesst me, Marian?" He leaned closer, a bare inch between their faces.

Marian's eyes darted downwards.

Allen coughed awkwardly.

Harrick huffed in disappointed as the General side-eyed his student. Both mentors calmly backed off as if nothing happened.

"Don't call me Fraulein," Harrick concluded. Marian chuckled and Allen nodded his head firmly. "Now, just call me something other than Lord."

"Master Harrick?" Allen tried.

"That's even worse!" the immortal cried, throwing his head onto the table, cushioned by his folded arms. "I'm far too old to be wearing leathers!" His words were slightly muffled by his sleeve.

"Call him Death," Cross suggested, flicking his hair sarcastically. "That should tickle both of your morbid funny bones."

"I think Master Cross should be banned from offering names," Allen concluded, offended. He was not 'morbid'. Loving the Akuma was perfectly normal.

"No, no, Marian actually has a point this time," Harrick decided. He cheerfully ignored the morbid comment. He was literally Death. It really didn't get more morbid than that. "As Death, I have used many names. I'm sure we can use one of them for our purposes. And, since it's technically a title, there should be no issue with using it."

"I've always wanted to call you Satan," Marian added, sipping smoothly from his wine glass.

The immortal narrowed his eyes. "Marian is now banned from contributing to this conversation. Allen, are there any names you know or should I just start listing them?"

"I only know of Death and the Millennium Earl," the young exorcist-in-training shook his head.

"That won't do," Harrick noted, popping another piece of duck into his mouth. "I have been known as Macaria and Hel. Anubis was interesting. Mania was definitely a favorite. Mara, both of them. Tia and Ta'xet was harder but no less fun. Then there's also Veles, to name a few. What do you think, little waif?"

"I didn't realize you have lived so much, Lord Harrick," he muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I don't think I can pick one myself.

"Alright, I choose then," Harrick pursed his lips, thinking it over. He really has lived a long time. But, each life has ended and even the supposedly immortal gods he lived with fell to Death. They rested within him now. If he wanted to, Harrick knew he could separate the strands of souls inside and comfort himself with a familiar face.

But, they deserve rest. He has no right –no one has a right – to disturb the dead.

"I am fond of Mannan, my Celtic name" he allowed.

"You just want to be called Maman," Marian cackled quietly. Harrick glared at the buzzed man. He slammed his foot down, watching Marian's face twist as he crushed his delicate, manly little toes.

"Don't ruin this for me, Marian," Harrick hissed, annoyed with the Exorcist's constant interruptions.

Allen watched their exchange, his head bopping from side to side as he followed their quiet conversation. When the insults started to fly, the teenager spoke loudly enough to catch the 'mature adults' attention.

"Manon?" Allen attempted, testing out the name slowly.

Harrick blinked but hummed in acceptance as he turned away from Marian. "I like it."

"I thought it was Mannan," the runaway General argued.

"Mannan, Manon, Maman," Harrick waved his hand. "It's all the same, in the end. It's simply a name."

"Names are powerful," Allen declared, his silver eyes growing stormy with the shadows of a dark day long past.

Harrick canted his head, observing the boy he had taken into his heart. He looked into his eyes, noting the heartbreak and grief that oozed from his very soul.

"Yes," Harrick agreed. "Names are very powerful. And that is why only you and Marian will know the name written on my soul."

"Harrick!" Cross tried to reason, jumping up from his chair in outrage. "If the Earl were to ever hear it-!"

"Allen would never tell the Earl," Harrick countered smoothly, his stare never faltering from the teenager. "Don't you trust our student, Marian?"

The exorcist-in-training was tense, his eyes steely in preparation for rejection. Even after so long, after so many lessons and affection, Allen was still affected by his past. Unless Harrick did something right now, Allen might always be discreetly watching over his shoulder for betrayal. That would only hurt him in the future, when he finally joined that obnoxious order and Marian's plan came to fruition. The immortal would not allow something as trivial as his name damage his student further.

"I was born with the name Harry. Harry James Potter," Harrick announced. It was really rather anticlimactic. There wasn't any thunder or anything. He was a bit disappointed. At least when he told Marian it was in the middle of an Akuma massacre. Everything was a bit dramatic that day.

"Harry," Allen repeated, feeling the syllables fall from his lips. It flowed nicely, gliding off of his tongue with a strange power. His whole body tingled, his curse scar burning with a comfortable warmth. He couldn't hold in his responding gasp at the rush of feeling.

"Yes, that has been known to happen when my one true name is spoken," the Master of Death acknowledged, stare hawk-like on his student. "The effects should dissipate in a few minutes. Whenever you say my Name, I will hear you and I will come. Because the two of you are my heart and I refuse to allow that Fat Oaf or that obnoxious organization to harm either of you. But, remember this, Allen. Only someone who knows my one true name can kill me. That is why I have hundreds of names I will answer to. Never say my Name unless you are in danger."

Cross huffed, his glare turned off into the distance, trying to ignore the catastrophe of a meal. He really should have known a calm morning with Harrick and his Stupid Student was impossible. They just attracted trouble like a streetwalker attracted clients. "I don't know what I'm going to do with the two of you," he rumbled gruffly.

"Take us to China," Harrick suggested with an impish grin, shrugging as he let Allen go from his piercing stare. The boy relaxed with a large huff of breath, his eyes falling away from the immortal.

"I might as well," he growled. "You can't cause more trouble there than you have here."

"Don't doubt me, Marian," Harrick cooed. "It might tempt me to cause trouble just to spite you."

"Trust me, Harrick," Cross assured. He smirked, taking another sip of wine as his companions shared a glance. "I know exactly how strong your spite is."


There. Mannan/Manon/Maman is Allen's name of Harrick. It doesn't really all sound the same, but like Harrick said, it's a name and that's all that matters. (As long as Allen's not calling him Lord, dear gods, he thought he left that behind with Wizarding England.)

Fraulein means Miss, nowadays. However, in the 1800s, it was interpreted as "a "diminutive of woman" or "not-quite-a-woman". Most commonly used to refer to streetwalkers.

Manannán/Manan is an Old Irish Sea god. He is also a guide for souls and connected to the 'Otherworld' and the veil between the worlds. He is seen as a trickster in the mythos. He is known to have a boat named Scuabtuinne/Wave Sweeper, a horse named Enbarr, a sword named Fragarach/The Answerer, and a cloak of invisibility. Manan is often shown as the role of a foster father in the Irish/Celtic mythology, raising a number of foster children, including Lugh, the Irish Hero, and the tragic Heroine Deirdre's children. He sounds awesome, really.

Now, Harrick/Harry/Mannan/Manon (okay, this might get a bit confusing) has lived a long time. He has watched worlds burn and has hung out with countless other immortal beings. He is the one true Immortal, however. Nothing lasts longer than Death. He is eternal and forever. He knows he is only setting himself up for more hurt, but Harrick was born human and he cannot survive without interaction. It's a flaw of humanity, at least for an immortal being suffering forever without the promise of companionship…I'm just being mean to Harry, wow.

Now, we're off to China for perfectly important and critical reasons. I swear, it's not just to have Harrick hug a panda…okay, that might be the main reason.

Guest Reviews:

Pancake - They did~ I needed a fluffy chapter and it seemed like the perfect time to set up the relationships properly. Oh, how are those stories going along? Are you comfortable with telling me about them more, cause you've made me curious now? Yeah, FanFiction inspired me to major in Creative Writing. I currently am working on two original works myself, though I keep having writer's block, which is when I usually turn back to FF. Haha, I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much though. I can't promise that you'll enjoy my other stories or that my writing will stay awesome, but I will try my best to live up to the expectations of those that have inspired me to continue writing. Thank you!

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!