Yo.

Story is, as always, dedicated to SociiallyDiisoriiented. Beta credit to the fabulous Skylara.

Ja ne!
UK.

Chapter Twenty
Strobe

1 November 2004

When L woke up the first time, he noticed that his eyes hurt.

They were itchy and felt like sandpaper, all while being ridiculously heavy and droopy. He shifted, his mind still going dreadfully slow, and buried his face in a cool pillow while burrowing deeper into the warmth of the comforter. He felt skin against his back and arms around his chest, curled up behind him and cocooning his body in warmth. His eyes shut again, and he quickly lost consciousness.

The second time he woke up, his eyes still hurt but his mind was working at a reasonable speed.

He blinked heavily, watching the rain pour outside the window on the far wall, and let his head catch up with his surroundings. He was lying down on his side, knees slightly bent and his arms loosely wrapped around his pillow. Wait, Harry's pillow.

It was a slow, almost luxurious moment then, where everything sort-of...seeped back into his thoughts at a drawn out pace. He closed his eyes yet again, not exactly reliving it in his mind but instead remembering how his body had reacted.

It was pretty clear now to L why people would kill and commit horrendous crimes out of desire for sex. It was much better than having an infinite supply of strawberry shortcake and ice cream; which, in L's point of view, was quite a feat.

He shifted, blinking rapidly to attempt to ease the rough feeling of his eyelids, and curled up tighter. It was possibly the first time in years that he had slept without having denim trousers on his lower body, and it was strange to feel the silky fabric gliding against his bare thighs.

He breathed slowly in and out before directing his attention to his surroundings. He took note of the grey sky pouring down buckets of precipitation with a still slightly clouded mind, wondering what time it was. It couldn't be too late, because there was still a dim amount of light creeping through the heavily clouded sky. It was probably around eighteen o'clock, nineteen at the latest.

He couldn't feel Harry right next to him, but he could hear the shower running in the opposite room. Glancing downwards, he was slightly perplexed to find that every scrap of clothing was gone along with the ruined sweets that had been knocked down. He debated on weaselling his way out of the warm cocoon of blankets to get up so he could find his clothing, but eventually decided that he didn't mind being naked, so he burrowed his nose back into the heat and glanced at the digital clock absently.

Then he promptly made a strange, oddly choked panicked noise.

Either Harry had the ability to turn back time with his magic-stick and make it still his birthday or it was nine o'clock and the first of November.

There was absolutely no way he had slept fifteen hours without waking up except for a brief moment. That was impossible.

He shot up, his eyes wide and hazily frantic, and quickly began searching for any of his clothing. However, he just grasped the back of the chair, nearly falling over while his head went dizzy, almost light-headed as his entire body grew unimaginably tired. He could barely even keep himself upright, so he just held the back of the desk chair tightly and closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass.

Vertigo. It was odd, but to be expected.

Oh, I'm tired. Will anyone even notice if I go back to bed?

It passed, and he slowly began searching yet again. He almost wanted to just go back to the warm blankets and lay there until Harry got out of the shower and gave him clothes.

He paused and turned towards the door to the bathroom.

He cocked his head, watching the tendrils of steams creep out of the room. It was filtering golden light through the crack, and L had a sudden shiver crawl down his spine. His eyes tried to see past the heat, but then his eyes were distracted by a slight movement behind the thick opaque doors of the shower.

L's head cocked the other direction.

Considering.

Contemplating.

He finally took a step forward after making up his mind. He walked forward with slow purpose; he wasn't discomfited about what he was planning on doing but he didn't know how Harry would react. Perhaps he liked his time in the bathroom to be private.

But he could feel the stickiness on his body although oddly it wasn't visible, and he really wanted a shower before walking through the hallways and being seen on security cameras.

He pushed open the door and poked his head in the steam, trying to focus through the heated mist swirling in the bathroom. He looked at his blurry reflection in the mirror directly opposite of the open doorway, trying to see himself clearly through the condensation, but only seeing a vague outline of his naked form. He glanced around the immaculately clean bathroom, again confused about where all of the sweets and clothes had gone, and then promptly blinked.

Oh yes, he probably made them disappear using his magic-stick. How could I have forgotten to think about that?

He heard a small movement and then one of the glass doors slid open. Harry's face popped out from behind the door, his hair sopping wet and hanging heavily in his green eyes, and L felt no need to hide the small smile at the sight.

Harry let off a beaming smile in return as he said innocently, "Well, good afternoon Sleeping Beauty."

L blinked. "Ah, so it is the first of November then. This might be a problem."

Harry laughed and reached out a dripping arm, beckoning L closer. When he was in grasping distance, he did just that, wrapping his hand against L's wrist and leading him into the shower. As he did, he continued on in a cheerful voice, "Well, the problem is almost completely dealt with. Watari ended up going ballistic early this morning and gave your cell phone a ring. I'm surprised you didn't wake up."

L fiddled with the hot water knob for the second showerhead as he mulled that idea over. He must've been really tired, for he didn't remember dreaming at all. Normally he would've been startled awake from either a dream or his constant paranoia within the first hour or two of losing consciousness, but besides that brief moment of opening up and feeling like his eyes were sandpaper, he couldn't recall sleeping at all. He did feel significantly tired, most likely because his body was not accustomed to that much rest and had adjusted accordingly.

But for him not to wake up at a phone call...that was surprising.

The idea of Watari going 'ballistic' was alarming as well. "What exactly happened?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he stepped underneath the warm spray of water.

"Well," Harry said, following L's example, "He called around...probably seven or so this morning. I picked up the phone, knowing it probably wasn't a good idea to just let it ring or something. He asked to talk to you, so I told him the truth and said you were sleeping. Obviously he didn't believe me, because it's pretty clear that you don't really get much snoozing time, and said that he was going to come down here and drag you out himself."

L fought the urge to flinch and succeeded. "Why didn't you wake me up?" he questioned, loosely knowing the answer but wanting to clarify it anyway.

"Like I said, you don't sleep much. It's a good thing that you're letting your brain have some rest. Sleep is good for a healthy brain, Kermit."

L refrained from rolling his eyes, instead allowing them to close, putting his face into the water and letting out a small sigh. He felt relieved that things weren't awkward between them now that...it had happened. After all, it was said in books and from various criminals during interrogation that sex changed everything about how two people interacted. Whether or not it was for love or selfish gratification, the act of intercourse always changed something, if not everything. Here, however, Harry was acting exactly the same as before, with the teasing that made L want to throw cake at his laughing face. Obviously, they were both naked and showering—without being able to stop himself, L's eyes flickered downwards and quickly looked away before he could lose his train of thought—but other than that, the atmosphere didn't seem any different.

But regardless, this was not what he should be thinking about. He wiped his eyes and switched track almost immediately, stating, "I'm surprised that Watari didn't come and shoot the door down. Care to explain that?"

Harry sighed and focussed his emerald stare on L. "You shouldn't instantly interrogate people after waking up. Especially me, after all we've been through together." Ah. There's the change. This might get bothersome.

When L's questioning glare only intensified, Harry groaned and explained himself, "Well, after the phone call, he did make his merry 'ol way down here, and I sort-of panicked. I knew he was coming because I could see him through the cameras that you left on the screen yesterday, and I figured that I wouldn't be able to turn him away. I didn't want to use magic, couldn't really, because then the other cameras would've been able to see it and I didn't know who could be watching. At the same time, I didn't want him coming in here, for obvious reasons."

He gave L a pointed glance, and L fought the urge to sigh. "So what did you do?"

Harry grinned. "I ended up splitting the difference. I couldn't let him come in here because you weren't modest—" At that, Harry's glance turned downright impious. "—so I ended up doing some quick magic before he could come barging in here. Made you appear to be presentable, moved all of the sweets and clothing under the cloak, dressed myself...and then went out to meet him before he could wake you up."

"What do you mean, 'appear to be presentable'?" L began searching for the shampoo, inwardly amused that for a bit he'd smell like Harry, and was pointed in the right direction.

"I made it look like you were still wearing clothes. It wasn't real, but to Watari's eyes, it would've seemed as if you were fully clothed. I didn't think you'd appreciate him coming in here and seeing you like that. Oh yeah, and all of my stuff is coconut-free."

At that, L squeezed some of the lime green shampoo on his hands and began rubbing it in his hair quickly. He had never been one to stand in the shower and soak, instead using every moment to meticulously scrub his body clean, but regardless, it was a different situation this time.

The scent of green tea and alfalfa permeated the air of the bathroom.

"Thank you," he said, simply and quietly.

Harry shrugged and said, "I didn't want him seeing you like that, either. I don't want anyone seeing you like that except me."

"You aren't going to go all strange on me, are you Harry-san?"

Harry groaned. "Oh hell, you're still going to use an honorific? I think I'm going to cry." For good measure, he sniffled as if personally wounded.

L dead-panned, "Sarcasm isn't becoming of you."

He laughed while L began rinsing his hair. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, but then Harry finally continued on, his voice quiet. "I met him in my living area. He was furious, I could tell, but I figured he wouldn't make that big of a scene because he hadn't turned off the cameras. He spoke in French, and I allowed him to look in on you from the doorway. He could see you breathing, and knew I hadn't, like, killed you or something, so he just told me to send you down when you were awake. I think he was a bit shocked, really. He hasn't called since though."

L took a few breaths in and out before he said, "That's good. It would've been unfortunate if you had used magic in front of him."

Harry immediately tensed, as if preparing himself. He said in a slightly off voice, "I think we should tell him. If I'm going to be able to protect him, he has to know. If he knew what I was capable of, he might trust me here more."

L began searching for the body wash and picked it up, briefly glancing at it while thinking about Harry's comments. He watched as Harry opened the opaque door again and grabbed one of the clean, white washcloths, handing it to L. As the detective soaked the cloth and applied the soap, a pomegranate and mango mix that contrasted with the green tea and alfalfa, he said, "Deal with the article first. I think that is the top priority at the present moment. We will have to deal with finding Kira again, after this fiasco of Higuchi dying, and I'll have to keep an eye on Amane as well. I think that involving Watari in this would prove to be an unwise decision as of now. He'll want to go into hiding again if he knows that Kira and those people tailing you are all attempting to find out who I am. He'll believe it to be too dangerous for you to be here because of that added threat."

"I can understand where he's coming from, though. Perhaps it might be better if you did go into hiding. If and when Kira attacks you, I think it might be a good idea to hide you regardless. If you died and seemingly stayed that way, it would make you able to hunt Kira without having to get yourself involved again. I could stay involved in the investigation while you watch, keeping an eye on Raito. Hell, one of us could probably tail him in the Invisibility Cloak and catch him in the act."

"Can the shinigami see through it?" asked L.

Harry grinned. "Nah. It's one of the Deathly Hallows, created by Death himself. I'm assuming that Death means that Shinigami King that Rem was talking about, because it doesn't seem as if shinigami like Rem could create something with that sort-of ability."

"The Deathly Hallows?" That sounded interesting, especially if there were three objects with powers rivalling a cloak of invisibility. Perhaps they could be utilised for L's benefit.

"I'll let you read about all of that while I'm working on smothering the Daily Prophet. If I have my way, I'm going to annihilate those two infuriating women with my bare hands."

L recalled the books and was looking forward to reading them. He would have nothing but time while waiting for Kira to make another move.

"That's an interesting idea, Harry," pondered L, intentionally omitting the honorific. As he began cleaning his body, he began talking out loud. "If I die, it might be better to go back into hiding if you can revive me."

"When I revive you," Harry said moodily.

L continued on as if he hadn't heard him. "Then I'd be in a position to see how Raito reacts in the situation of my death. The most beneficial move for Kira to make would be to have the role of L under his own influence. It would be an interesting development, giving me free reign to tail him and get the evidence I need and the perfect alibi for disappearing after the case is over."

Harry hesitated slightly but eventually continued, "What are we going to do about the L name? I mean, if he takes over that position, the power he will have is—"

"Yes, I think I might have a way to combat that. Raito is intelligent, and could very well take over the name, but I think I can arrange for you to be my conscious successor."

"What?"

"Well, it is very clear to most people that we have...a unique camaraderie, and so it wouldn't be hard to explain that you are the 'second L' and had only been here in the case of my death. Besides, you have mostly solved the Higuchi-Kira part almost on your own, without much help from Raito and me. Mostly, though, this will be for looks, and I suppose there is a way where I can give you directions without giving away that I am alive. Also, it makes it convenient because you aren't affected in the Death Note."

Harry raised an eyebrow, obviously a bit taken aback. Regardless, he said, "What's going to happen if Raito finds out who I am as well and tries to write my name in the Death Note, but I don't die from it."

L thought about that and finally answered, "Hopefully it won't come to that. I think the most vital aspect is making sure Raito does not find out about your world. If he had the same talents at his disposal, he would quickly utilise it in his benefit. We have to make sure that it doesn't head in that direction."

"Okay. So if you have a heart attack, I am to revive you and find a way to make it seem as if you're just a corpse before letting you hide. I'll talk to Hermione, as I'm sure there's a way to talk with each other in public without giving ourselves away with the security cameras. Sounds simple, although I'll probably have to improvise."

L nodded and said, "Yes, this is an agreeable plan that I believe will work. If it does come down to Raito not being able to kill you after somehow finding out your name, there's a good chance that we could catch him at that moment. He would realise that you are the Master of Death that the shinigami was speaking about, and he might give himself away. I don't expect him to make a scene, and he might try to hide it, but I'll be able to tell if he's hiding something."

"I don't think the prat will confront me or anything, but yeah, it should be easy to determine. He might ask me questions, or bring things up that wouldn't normally make sense. Regardless, though, I agree. It'll be bad if he finds out about our world. I mean, it's not like anyone would ever help him, because I've got the entire Wizarding population backing my every move, and the only people that would align with him are the sparse few Death Eaters with a lingering vendetta against me. I don't think it'll be much of a problem."

"Yes," L said again. "We are going to win this."

"And afterwards, I am so taking you to a Quidditch game."

L didn't have the chance to speak before Harry was kissing him lightly. It didn't last long, but it did effectively make L forget entirely what he was going to say. As they both hopped out of the shower, Harry flinging a towel on his head with a laugh while mentioning that he was going to proceed to play sick, L wondered exactly what was going to happen afterwards.

He almost didn't want to think about it.

Harry cracked out of existence and found himself in the dreary House of Black.

After getting into a mild argument about how the cleansing charm on Ryuzaki's clothes meant that they were clean and not dirty, he found himself ready to start his afternoon.

He knew that Ryuzaki, now that he was alone, was most likely putting on a façade of complete indifference to the investigation team while inwardly over-processing every single thing. He had fallen asleep—for fifteen hours—too quickly for him to think about what had happened, and when he had woken up, he hadn't had much time to think before being distracted again. By Harry.

The wizard snickered.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt so relaxed, sated, and happy. Even despite the overpowering knowledge that Ryuzaki was probably going to die in the near future (although he wouldn't stay like that, absolutely not) and the pressure of the case's future, he felt completely tranquil and in high spirits at the same time. He almost wanted to start yelling and cheering in the emptiness of Grimmauld Place, not only because he had finally had that unfathomable moment with the love of his life but because of the simple fact that he felt complete for the first time in his existence

They hadn't done anything after getting out of the shower, of course; Ryuzaki had been much too tense about the clear-and-upcoming verbal deathmatch that was bound to take place with Watari, and it was obvious that he was still a bit overwhelmed about the fact that he had let himself go like he had, but still, Harry had something to prove. Harry knew that Ryuzaki was probably overanalysing it and wondering if things were going to be different, due to his previous scientific analysis of affection and-or sexual desire. Therefore, Harry understood that he had to seem as if what they had done together wasn't something that was going to change how their...relationship of sorts worked.

Nothing was going to change, except now Harry could say little things around others that were bound to fluster Ryuzaki...which was going to be fun. Oh so much fun.

"Why is Master Harry smiling wickedly to himself? Has Master done something very naughty?"

That was the trigger, and Harry reckoned that Kreacher was not very amused with his loud, booming laughter that echoed through the halls. Unfortunately, that damned painting woke up, beginning the usual shrieking, and as he attempted to breathe he waved his wand, effectively putting a silencing charm on her.

Hm, he was getting quite good at those, it seemed.

Eventually, he stopped laughing, wiping the tears from his eyes as he began walking towards Kreacher, crouching low to get as close to eye-level as he could. "How have you been, Kreacher?" he asked kindly, quirking an eyebrow. "Been getting yourself into trouble?"

"Of course not, Master Harry. Kreacher has just been cleaning Master's house while he's been away, making it welcome for when he decides to return. Should Kreacher make Master Harry some onion soup?"

"Sorry, Kreacher. I've got to go down to the Ministry and deal with some business before going on a mad witch hunt. I figured I'd drop off the Invisibility Cloak and the Firebolt here, because I don't want Ryuzaki getting any ideas while I'm gone." He paused, cocked his head, and said, "Wait, you could make a cake for me. Do you remember that recipe that I told you for the strawberry cake, one of Mrs. Weasley's old ones? Can you make that for me?"

"What time will Master Harry be back to pick up his cake?" asked Kreacher, a small note to his normally grumbling voice that said he was pleased for something to do that wasn't cleaning.

"Um, I'm not sure, but I'm thinking somewhere around the nineteen o'clock range. Can you have it done by then?"

"Of course, Master Harry. It shall be done to the best of Kreacher's abilities."

Harry grinned, handed the elf his cloak and broom, and Apparated yet again.

He found himself in the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. For a long minute, he strolled through the crowd entering and leaving the governmental building without attracting any attention, but that didn't go on for very long before the entire place went into an eerie hush at the sight of him. He kept his head down as he all but ran to the other end of the Atrium, bypassing the new fountain with unease—it was so embarrassing to see himself etched in gold, surrounded by Ron and Hermione, all of them holding their wands in front of them as they spurted water. He ignored the staring and the whispering (and the one woman near the backend that yelped "On Merlin's baggy underpants, that's Harry Potter!") as he made his way to the security desk next to the golden gates hiding the lifts.

After being away from the Wizarding world for over two years, it was a bit of a shock to see his face in the Ministry of all places, he presumed.

He impatiently stepped in front of the stricken security wizard and mumbled, "This is ridiculous. I shouldn't have to do this. I really need to talk to Mr. Weasley about changing this." He cleared his throat and said in a forced cheerful voice, "Hi, I'm here to see the Minister and for some personal business. Here's my wand."

The man shakily took the wand, deposited it on the single scale, and said in a strange squeaking voice that didn't match his gigantic form, "Eleven inches, holly and phoenix-feather core, been in use for thirteen years, registered to H-Harry Potter."

"Yes," Harry said with strained calm, trying not to lose his temper. He hated being in Wizarding places, especially areas with many wizards and witches in one small area. He hated getting this treatment. It had been bad during his school years and had been nearly unbearable during the War, but now it was just unbelievably annoying and irksome.

One of the reasons he had disappeared from that world.

He grasped his wand and pocketed the badge he was given. He didn't need it for people to know why he was here or who he was, and if he slinked around enough he'd miss most of the people in the place. With a quiet "thank you" he strode through the front gate and took the first lift he could find that wasn't much occupied, trying to keep his breathing under control.

It took him nearly half an hour to find Mr. Weasley, who was looking at a group of two odd wizards trying to figure out why a rubber duck was trying to bite their fingers off. His face had a poorly hidden look of some unimaginable sadness, and Harry could see it for what it was. A couple of years ago he had had his entire family surrounding him as he had worked at a low job at the Ministry involving Muggle 'artefacts'. Now he had no one except Ron and he was working at a job he didn't want nor was exactly qualified for.

Harry knew he would've given his title of Minister and the surrogate father of Harry Potter to be that low-paid wizard surrounded by all of his children and his wife.

"Hey Mr. Weasley," Harry said softly, putting a hand against on his shoulder. The touch and words seem to startle him out of that sadness, for he automatically adopted a huge grin of excitement.

"Hello Harry. I suppose we should go talk in private, so these chaps will stop staring at you, hm? I heard from Ron and Hermione about what's going on, so I think we need to settle this before you swear off hanging out with us forever this time."

They both laughed and began walking towards the lifts and the Minister's office.