Harry relaxed as he finished his morning kata, stretching satisfyingly. He padded barefoot to the door, absentmindedly magicking on whichever clothes Julian had laid out for him for today. He looked down, surprised as he noticed the outfit was a heavier, more formal ensemble than what he was used to. For these clothes to be chosen for him, an important guest must be coming over to speak to his father.

His father must want him to join today. It wasn't the first time that his father had him sit in on a meeting, even having led a few with Crowley's supervision.

However, Harry found it unusual that he wasn't informed of the meeting beforehand. Usually, he would be given at least a day in advance to research and prepare notes. Todays' guest must have arrived unannounced. That no doubt greatly irritated his father.

Arriving in the informal dining room, he sat down gracefully, paying little notice to the servants who placed various serving trays on the table in front of him.

He picked at his food, feeling oddly disquiet. After taking a few more bites of a sweet crêpe, he pushed his food away, his stomach feeling too upset for him to try and eat more, no matter how enjoyable the food.

He sat back and closed his eyes, wanting to try meditation to silence his worried mind and stomach. After a few peaceful moments, Harry heard a soft sound from the corner of the room.

The sound, an antique grandfather clock, ticked annoyingly away, filling the otherwise peaceful room with its continued ticking noise.

The clock seemed to get louder and louder as Harry focused on it, until finally, Harry couldn't take any more.

His chair scraped on the hardwood floor as he abruptly pushed away from the table. Standing up, he stalked out of the room, the door slamming behind him as his magic lashed out. The resounding bang was enough to shake the walls and silence the clock…

For a moment.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Harry was utterly bored, he has been living in this monotonous routine, interacting with no one but a select few demons for years. Or at least it felt like years, Harry stopped trying to keep track.

He had anything and everything he could possibly wish for in the estate, and anything that he didn't have he could use his powers to conjure. He's read almost everything vaguely interesting in the library, finished his music and fighting lessons, he's even learned enough cooking to put countless five-star chefs to shame.

There was no excitement in his life anymore, his life had become mundane. Dull. He almost wished for the threat of Voldemort and death eaters to loom over his head again, so that he would at least have something stimulating to do.

Harry stalked down the halls, heading to his father's office. He was hoping that he could finally convince Crowley to let him go outside, to help stop the apocalypse.

He's asked before, countless times, but Crowley has always been able to distract him. And when Harry was obstinate enough not to be deterred from the conversation, he was flat out told that he 'wasn't ready.'

'Wasn't ready!' Yeah right! Harry trained his ass off to get where he was now. And he was a Cambion! Like literally the most powerful creature on earth! Harry loved his father more than anything, but he kept babying him! Well no more! It was time to set off on his own.

Harry stomped down the hallway, getting angrier and angrier, before coming to a stop when he reached the imposing double doors of his father's office.

He crossed his arms haughtily as he glanced at the demon guarding the office.

"Inform my father that I'm waiting to see him."

The demon glanced at the doors before staring at him flatly "I'm afraid I can't do that Master Harrison. Your father has an important guest present. No one is to enter, not even you."

Harry huffed, ridiculous! His father never barred him from his office. In fact, he always encouraged him to sit in on meetings or to even just bring a book and 'hang out' while he worked.

Plus, why would have Julian of laid out these clothes for him unless he was to sit in on this meeting?

"And just who is my father seeing right now?" He tilted his head, gazing at the demon with suspicion.

As the demon made a move to speak, Harry waved him off "You know what, it doesn't matter."

Harry stepped forward, watching curiously as the demon's eyes widened before moving to stand in front of the door, making his position clear.

"Sir—"

Harry scoffed, he couldn't be serious. He flicked his fingers, the demon sliding aside with a skeet of his shoes on the hardwood. Harry smirked at the man as he strode forward, catching the end of the conversation as he opens the door.

"I can't be ordered by anyone…" he heard a gravelly voice say.

"except for one—" the voice trailed off as Harry locked eyes with the owner of the voice.

"Master." He breathed out reverently, staring.

Harry had only one response as he flicked his eyes between his stupefied father and the man before him "Uh...I'm sorry, what?"

Crowley cleared his throat "I—" he cleared his throat again "I find myself asking that same question. I'm assuming that you don't have some kind of BDSM relationship with my son."

The man turned from staring at Harry to face Crowley, annoyed.

"So, what exactly did you mean by calling my son master?"

The man exhaled a long-suffering sigh at his father's question, turning to Harry "Stop standing in the doorway Harrison. Close the door and come sit down."

Harry did as he was asked, keeping a wary eye on the odd man the whole time.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling decidedly awkward as his father and the mysterious man waited for him to settle in his chair.

Harry shifted in his seat as the silence continued "Sooooo..."

Crowley sighed, taking a long gulp of his brandy "Harry, I'd like you to meet Death."

"Uhhhhh…" Harry trailed off, not sure what to say. He's read of the entity and of reapers, but he had never even entertained the idea of actually meeting the being before him.

Harry could only offer him a meek "Nice to meet you." What if he was here to reap him or his father?!

"It's my pleasure." Death smiled indulgently, his smile turning into a worried form as he noticed Harry panicking.

"I'm not here to reap anyone Harrison, especially you."

Harry forced himself to calm, mustering up his Gryffindor courage as he asked the question on the forefront of his mind "So uh, when you called me master before…" he trailed off, not quite sure how to phrase the question.

"What the fuck was that about?" he asked bluntly, crossing his arms.

There was a moment of silence before both Harry and Crowley were startled at the sound of deep laughter, looking at each other urgently than to Death who they were both sure had finally cracked. After a millennium Harry's straightforwardness was apparently the breaking point for him.

Harry shifted in his seat, Crowley taking another deep drink of his brandy, waiting awkwardly for Death to finally stop chuckling.

"Ah Harrison, I've been waiting for you for a very, very long time. I've just never expected…" He trailed off, staring unwaveringly at Harry.

He shifted his stare to Crowley, Harry slumping in his chair as his gaze left him.

Death sighed, "Perhaps I should start at the beginning of our story…" he mused, sitting back into the armchair, crossing one knee over the other and laying his folded hands on his lap.

Harry has gotten a bit arrogant, huh? Also, sorry for the long wait, I had trouble figuring out where I wanted this chapter to go, but I'm quite pleased with how it came out after all. As always, a special thank you to my loyal followers and favourite (rs) for your patience and support.