Death was, for the next few days, overprotective, to say the least. He would not allow Harry to go to classes. Only for the next two days he said. Only until the start of the new week. Harry was not sure that he believed him. Harry was kept by the being's side for the whole of the first day and most of the second, following each and every work decision that he needed to make. He spent most of that time invisible. Thankfully on the third day, the weekend blossomed like a glorious flower. Harry was grateful for it. The day came like a blessing. Death did not have to work on weekends.

Harry had missed Death. He knew that he spent his time by his side. He knew that he was there, in the literal sense; but in another way he was not. During the day his role was a master. During the evenings and the weekend it was different. They were different. Harry wasn't sure what it was, but they were not the same when the others weren't looking. Even when Harry and Death weren't looking. When Harry's thoughts were not on his predicament, not on the fact that he had more power than he ever thought possible over a being that should terrify him in every way. When Harry let all that fade away from him, he was different with Death. Death was different with him.

Harry woke on the Saturday morning, relatively early, curled in a ball under his blanket. He was cold. Wilson had wandered off, bored at his sleeping master. Harry was missing the dog's warmth. With a small shiver and a groan Harry pulled himself from the bed, pulling the blanket with him. Like a small child Harry pulled the blanket over his head and shuffled down the corridor. He pushed open the door to Death's room and with still blurry eyes he pulled himself under the covers. Within seconds he was asleep again; Death providing the warmth that he was seeking.

Harry awoke later, slightly disorientated. His head was buried in something warm, his breathing keeping his cheeks flushed. His body was comfortably warm and he snuggled further into the warmth below him. He snuffled slightly, a yawn pushing its way from his mouth.

"Master" a gruff voice hummed out sleepily, before the voice was engulfed in a yawn. Harry's eyes flickered open to be met with the solid and naked chest of Death; he blushed. Harry's face became uncomfortably hot as he pushed back slightly from the muscled chest.

"Morning Death" Harry mumbled out, his flush only darkening further as the gold glittering eyes looked down at him.

"Hmmm" Death hummed with a smile on his face. Death set a hand on Harry's chest looking at the young man that had moments ago been lying on him with a smirk. "Good Morning"

Death pushed himself up, using Harry's chest as a support. As Harry watched the being, he saw something in his eyes. It was akin to hunger. Death's eyes wondered lazily up and down Harry's body. He gave a fond smile as his eyes met sparking green.

Harry fond himself frozen under the man's gaze. His heart was hammering in his chest as the eyes met his and he gave a shy smile in return. The blush on his face was even hotter than before. The eyes skirted up the form of the man before him, reaching up to his face. Their eyes clashed before Harry's eyes wondered down to the perfectly pink lips.

Death's other hand came close to Harry's face, his fingers gently trailing along Harry's cheek. Harry's gaze remained focused on the face of the man above him. He was beautiful. The thought came unbidden into his mind and Harry felt shocked by it. It was not something that he had ever considered before. The way the man's eyes sparkled. The disheveled hair and the quirked lips.

"Lets get breakfast Master" Death ruffled Harry's hair and pulled himself from his bed. Harry watched as the half naked man pulled on his dressing gown and then made his way into the kitchen.

Harry spent the rest of the day in turmoil. He found his eyes glued to the man that called him Master. He watched the man's every step and every action, unable to take his eyes from him. He found himself caught several times as amused gold eyes met his own. Of course he flushed, his embarrassment reaching ridiculous levels. He found himself wondering if his face would ever be a normal colour again.

Kid came round later that day, as lunch was being made. The young man was slightly flustered, aggravated by something. Something that he did not share with Harry. Instead Harry did all that he could to calm the child down. No matter whether Kidd was willing to share his problems or not, Harry would still be there for him. Harry sat with Kidd, the two drinking tea; Harry attempting to coax conversation from the boy that sat by his side.

By the end of the visit Kidd was seemingly much less aggravated. His obsessive fiddling with his sleeves had ceased, his desire for each to be the perfect length, diminished somewhat. Harry deemed that to be a success. The fact that Harry had also been distracted from Death's form was an added bonus. However as Kidd came to leave Harry felt the thoughts pressing down on him. Although Harry reigned in the wave of emotion that threatened to soak him until the thoughts began to drip from his hair like raindrops.

Harry was sure that his thoughts, were he to let them run wild, would effect more than just himself. Even as he let a small trickle of emotion run through him, he noticed the newly standing Kid flinch, his hand reaching for his sleeve. Harry pulled the thoughts back. He failed to realise how much his mood effected Death and his son until he saw it first hand. Harry wondered how the pair had coped when Harry himself had been depressed. Although he supposed, that like himself, they could, to an extent, shut off how effected they were by Harry's emotions. Although in such close proximity it was difficult to shut ones self off completely.

Harry pulled Kid into a hug as the boy began to make his way from the rooms. He gave a small and reassuring smile. He wanted the boy to know that he was there for him. Even if both of them did have other things on their minds.

"I'll make dinner tomorrow?" Harry's question was more of an invitation. He would be making the meal no matter the presence of the boy or not. Harry loved cooking and Sunday dinners had become a ritual for him. Especially after the death of his Godfather and his time spent at the Dursley's. It seemed to be the only constant that he had had during that summer. Cooking three meals a day and baking desserts on a regular basis had kept Harry from spiralling too far into the depression that had tried to consume him.

"Okay" Kid agreed "I'll see you tomorrow." With that the young man made his way from the rooms. Harry hoped that whatever had been distracting the boy would be solved, or easier for him to deal with tomorrow.

Harry looked toward Death with a small smile, his eyes not meeting the gold. Instead a small pink blush had lit up his cheeks. Harry just couldn't stop thinking of the man's hard chest and tall form.

"I'm going to take Wilson out to play" Harry mumbled to the man. Harry didn't see the smirk that pulled at Death's lips as he went.

Monday morning before lessons began, it seemed that Death judged Harry capable enough to judge his attacker. The morning was one that was sure to be filled with conflict. Harry had to let out a sigh. It seemed this would follow the pattern of the rest of his life quite nicely. Death thought it was better for Harry to be present but unseen during the Judgment of Spirit. Death was unsure how aggressive the man would still be if he caught sight of Harry.

Harry stood, invisible to all, to the right of Death, slightly behind the man that was his servant, as the Death Scythe entered the Death Room. Death had the ridiculous gloves along with the mask still firmly in place. Yet the man had a much more serious air about him. The redhead looked nervous at the air of malice that seemed to seep from the masked form before him. Harry gave a half smile. The man should be scared. After all he had done Harry was shocked that the man had not already been blasted in two by the overprotective Death.

"Spirt Albarn, you are here to be judged." Harry had to repress a snicker as he heard the worlds. Who would have thought that Death would like to be so utterly dramatic. He had even gone so far as to gradually cause his mask to look more skull like as he spoke. Only very gradually; yet Harry was able to notice as the definition grew. The teeth became less sharp; while the eye and nose sockets seemed to morph slightly to match the face of the man that stood before them. It was as though the red head was seeing the mask gradually become his own skull. At that thought a hand had to come up to cover the snort that Harry was sure he was about to release.

"Do you have any defence for why you attacked one, Harry Potter?"

Spirit seemed to have become temporarily mute as his mouth opened and closed several times. Harry guessed it was the skull. He had to suppress another laugh as he realised that. He let out a slow and soft breath attempting to still his spasming face muscles. He had to resort to a strong bite on the inside of his cheek. It did little to help.

It seemed that during his near laughing fit, that Spirit had regained his voice.

"He was a threat to you Lord Death. I did as is proper for any Death Scythe. I attempted to deal with the threat. I did not deem is presence as…" However before he got a chance to finish his speech that, in all probability, had been rehearsed to within an inch of its life, he was interrupted.

"You deemed yourself fit to judge what was a threat to me?" It was not a question. "You think your own ability to make decisions above that of my own?" It was a quite growl. Harry was no longer laughing. "I, Lord Death, the ruler of who lives and who dies from the time that life began, you deemed your judgement above my own?"

Death's form changed. He seemed to grow taller, his aura growing darker and more menacing. The mask no longer resembled anything that it had at the beginning of the meeting. It had instead developed to a harsh grey, cracks appearing along its surface. It looked exactly like the skull of Spirt Albarn would if it had been left to rot in the sun for a hundred years.

"You, who deems your own judgement above my own has no place at my side. I believe that permanently stripping you of all your titles and banning you from school grounds is the most appropriate course of action." The word 'DEATH' in harsh white writing grew upon the robes of the being before Harry.

"That" he whispered "or I tear your head from your shoulders and leave it at the school gates as a warning to other." Spirit Shuddered.

Harry paused. Something felt wrong here. The thought of the man leaving. It didn't sit well with him. It felt awkward, painful even. He wasn't sure what it was. It was as though his magic was protesting to the words that Death spoke. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, didn't know what had prompted it. It was an itch under his skin and the more aggression that Death showed toward the red head the harder it got to ignore.

Death took a step forward and Harry couldn't stop himself.

"No" he whispered out.

Time froze. For a second nothing happened. No movement from anyone in the room at the solitary word that was whispered. It seemed to spread for an eternity.

Harry dropped his invisibility and like a shock of electricity the heart of the room began to beat again. As Harry took a step forward the violet visage that Death had portrayed seemed to melt away. He was back to the mask and robes that Harry so detested. Death looked to Harry. Harry suspected that under the mask was confusion and expectation.

"It…" Harry took a breath as he tried to explain what it was that he was feeling. The itch had decreased yet his magic was still aggravated. It seemed to ripple through him insistently as Harry tried to interpret what it was that it wanted.

"It's not right. He's-that is-he, he has to stay" Harry knew it didn't make sense even as the words formed on his tongue. "He's mine, well no, he's ours." Harry rubbed his temples.

"You can't banish him." Those were the words that he needed. Harry's magic seemed to hum at him.

"Master, you-" Death tried. Harry raised a hand. He stopped. Harry couldn't understand his own thoughts at the moment. He didn't notice the strain in his servant's voice. His brain could not deal with another's thoughts. Spirit remained frozen. Harry couldn't find the time to question the uncharacteristic behaviour.

"I-I can't really explain it, but he's sort of…ours. You've, well you've" he couldn't find the word. "you've claimed him." That seemed to fit. "He's yours and so he is mine" his magic tingled. It seemed it was satisfied with his words.

"You can't just get rid of him" Harry let out a breath. That was right. His magic seemed satisfied. With a final fizzle it seemed that the pressure lifted and his breathing eased.

It was only that Harry seemed to notice the strange behaviour of those around him. Spirit let out gasp and staggered on his feet. He seemed to sway slightly. Death himself seemed to need to steady his form. Harry looked at the pair, slightly perplexed at their reactions. Death, seeing his look attempted to explain.

"Your magic Master." Death breathed. "It desired Spirt to stay, so he had to." Death took another breath. "It seemed that it wished for my presence gone. The force of it was…taxing to say the least." Another breath. "Once you explained, it seemed your magic was satisfied. But I believe it took a lot out of myself and Spirit."

The words took a moment to sink in. The magic that he had felt bubble under his skin had spread across the entire room. Even of Harry felt fine it seemed that magic had not been so kind on those around him.

With a quick wave of his hand and a few whispered words two sofas appeared on the dais.

"Sit" Harry ordered softly. Spirt quickly let his legs give way. With a small puff of air he let himself fall onto the soft seat that had just appeared behind him. Death, it seemed was not so easily swayed. Harry walked to him.

"Gloves off" Harry ordered. With a sigh from the man they quickly disappeared. Harry gently took the hand in his own and lead the stubborn deity toward the sofa he had created. Harry sat before puling the man down with him.

"I'm sorry, both of you" Harry spoke quietly. "I had not realised I was having such a violent response. Although I am not sure that my magic will want Spirit out of my sight for a while."

Harry had been proved right and it seemed that he had been destined to miss yet more lessons because of events that were out of his control. Well, that was not totally true, in fact Harry had been able to attend the lessons that Spirit had taught. Harry had discovered that he was able to hide Wilson, along with himself, as he sat in the classroom. So Harry sat before a group of older students as he ran his fingers through Wilson's fur.

Death had been intent on forcing the pair, along with Spirit, to stay in Death's rooms. However that would have meant cancelling lessons for all of the students for an indefinite length of time. Harry did not wish for the students to miss their classes and neither did Spirit.

The phrase that an auror that he once knew echoed through his head. Always be prepared. They may be students but that did not mean that they were safe. Harry knew that. He had experienced every danger that a student should avoid. The students may think that they were safe, but Harry knew that it was better to be prepared than killed.

Harry watched the students that sat before him with a fond nostalgia. Even if these young people were learning how to fight and to take souls, it still seemed as though they were innocent. They were untouched by danger to their own lives. They had not lost their friends and relatives. They did not know that pain. Harry sighed. Was it only his life that would be so fucked up? It hurt so much. Even all those people that he had saved, he would never see them again. Teddy, his little godson, would grow up without knowing him. He would hear the stories, he would be told of Harry and of his parents. But he would grow up alone. Harry could not be there for him.

Ignoring the students and Spirit Harry exited the classroom, Wilson pattering behind him. His eyes were suspiciously tearful as he nearly ran from the classroom. He needed to get out. He felt as though he was suffocating. The feeling of reassurance that he had had around Spirit for the past three days seemed have vanished. Instead he needed to get out. He wanted comfort, but not the forced intimacy that he had with Death. He did not want his magic to force the connections that he felt to people. He wanted real connection and real emotions.

As Harry exited the classroom he let his invisibility drop from both himself and Wilson. He wandered along the corridor in a slight daze as he thought about his life and the experiences that had forced him into the position that he was in now. He rubbed a hand through his hair as his feet took him through the school, without really noticing where he was going.

Harry thought of all the people that he had lost, of all the lives that had been prematurely ended. He thought of those that he would never see again. He knew that he would never die and so his family was lost to him. Sirius, how he missed Sirius. The man still haunted his dreams. The pale face as he fell through the veil. That was a love that he was sure he would never have again. The love of parent, a love without demand or expectation.

Harry wondered out of the school and for the first time he found himself walking around Death City. It was nice to be out in the fresh air. He kept a hand tightly in Wilson's fur; a lifeline, as he walked through the empty streets. He looked at the different shops, wondering the kind of people that shopped here. Wondering who it was that gave themselves a life of servitude to a deity that could end their life in a flash.

Harry saw the name of a cafe before him and let out a loud snort. The name itself was enough to snap him out of the self pity and mourning that had engulfed him. Harry was being pathetic, he knew that. He thought that he had rid himself of this self indulgence. However seeing all those bright eyed faces had made him realise just how fucked his life had been.

Harry looked at the coffee shop again and grinned. He gripped tighter in Wilson's fur as he let out a small giggle at the name.

'Deathbucks Cafe'

What a ridiculous name he thought as he headed closer to the shop.

"What do you think Wilson, fancy a coffee?" Harry said with a small grin. The shop called to him, he wasn't sure why. Wilson gave a small bark and Harry took that as all the confirmation that he needed.

"Come on then Wilson." Harry said with a genuine smile as he headed into the shop.

Harry pushed the door open and the bell jingled as he entered. He looked around. The room was filled with amber chairs and mahogany tables. A handsome bar stood against one wall, behind which an equally handsome man stood. The man looked bored as he ran a cloth around the rim of an empty glass.

However as he saw Harry enter he looked up with calm indifference. He set his glass down, while setting his cloth under the bar.

"Welcome" he said in a gruff voice that Harry found somehow familiar. The man had black hair that sat messily around his head, as well as a light shading of stubble. His eyes were a piercing grey and Harry felt as though they were looking into his soul.

"What can I get you?" the man asked.

Harry blinked. It had only just hit him that he had no money, not a penny to his name.

"Ummm" Harry thought out as Winston took a step forward away from him.

"I don't have any money, so-" However before Harry could finish it seemed that Wilson interrupted. The dog had somehow found his way behind the bar and was now forcing his way toward the man. He nuzzled at the man's leg; demanding attention.

Harry blinked in shock. Wilso was not usually one to be overly friendly with people. The only person that Harry had seen him demand attention from before was Harry himself. Harry scampered behind the bar, quickly attempting to grab Wilson's collar.

"I'm so sorry," Harry apologised as he pulled the dog away from the man. "He's never normally like this, Wilson is normally very well behaved."

The man, however, seemed unconcerned as he looked to Harry. He simply raised his eyebrows slightly, before he knelt down to pet the dog before him.

"Don't worry about it." He looked up to Harry again. "I have a…camaraderie with most dogs," he explained as he ran his hand through Wilson's shaggy fur once more, before he stood.

"How about some water and a few treats for this one," he indicated to Wilson. "and I would join you for a coffee? The shop is deserted after all" Harry looked to the man.

"But I don't have any-"

"On the house" the man interrupted. "Find a seat, I'll be back in a minute."

The man disappeared into the back room and Harry sat at one of the tables. The man somehow made him feel comfortable, and if Wilson liked him, Harry was inclined to trust him. Harry looked up as the man set down a dog bowl at his feet, before he sat down opposite Harry and handed him a large mug of coffee.

"Enjoy" he said with a small quirk of his lips.