This is the tale of three brothers...

Aux Pommes

| And if all goes well, i'll do it again |

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Harry does not remember very much, but he remembers a lot.

"You can't recall anything from your previous life?" Light Yagami, Kira, decides to play twenty questions with the Master of Death.

"I remember standing at the top of Mount Vesuvius as Pompeii is buried under ash. I remember Nero playing the fiddle as the Roman empire burns. I remember whispering sweet words to men who are quick to withdraw their swords and I remember the boats that discover America on their way to India." Memories blur into his mind and Harry cannot remember exactly which are his and which belong to the ones who held the Hallows before him.

For an antagonizing minute, Harry Potter does not move. Ryuk, who floats between them, suddenly looks very curious and Light, who ponders, doesn't quite know how to react.

And then the world pauses around them, the Master of Death not quite conscious of what he is doing. The voices of the shop gradually fade until the patrons seem petrified in place, some with forks held in their hands, others with drops of tea threatening to fall on their clothes.

Light Yagami thinks he understands then, what it's like to truly be a God. His feet aren't quite rooted on the floor anymore and Ryuk lets out a disturbing laugh, the kind that chills him to the bone.

But just as fast as it stopped, the world picks up again; the shop becomes animated with chatter and movement and no one seems to notice the difference, that a moment ago they were petrified into a perfect painting of everyday life.

"Light, have some pie." Dark eyelashes flutter, wide green eyes staring back at the teen, a calm smile spread on his lips. Light can only nod, accepting the plate.

Over the cash register, Ryuk snorts and drops an apple into his mouth.

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"Checkers?" The Master of Death currently wears an expression of childlike wonder, the kind that should not be worn by someone like him. January becomes February, days pass by quickly except for Tuesdays.

Tuesdays are slow.

"Yes, Checkers." The old smiles, holding the board in his hands. "We have time to spare, no?" Harry Potter doesn't quite know what to feel at that moment, an electric current spreading from his fingers and coursing through his body.

"I'll make tea." Ryuk watches carefully as the man lays the board on one of the front tables and the Master of Death mutters under his breath with a wave of his hand, assembling the perfect tray with tea and apple/oatmeal cookies.

The Death God yawns, disappearing towards the kitchen in search of apples.

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"Dinner?" Ryuk teases Light that if he spends more time inside the shop, one day he won't be able to leave. But Harry always welcomes the teen with a calm smile and stuffs his mouth with pie – there are worst ways to die.

"Yes, I think my mother would like to meet you." The Master of Death blinks at the words, body completely still and for a moment, it looks like the other boy will say no. "I have been spending a lot of time here."

There is a pause, but this time the world doesn't stop.

"Okay." And then, thick eyelashes flutter. "What kind of pie would your family like?" Ryuk, who hovers sprawled on his back with his arms over his head grins, his teeth sharpened.

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Dinner at the Yagami household is usually a quiet affair – but it's not every day they have a guest, especially not a friend of Raito's, who happens to own a bakery and who doesn't look quite older than the Yagami son.

"How old are you, Harry-san?" Light does expect his father to have questions. After all, a foreigner at their table isn't such a common occurrence and his father is the chief of police. The Master of Death blinks, his face blank for a second, and then he comes out of his head, back to the present with a smile on his face.

"I'm twenty-three, Yagami-San." The man nods, stern at the boy currently seated between his son and his daughter, and Sayu's head whips fast to send a smile at the one next to her.

"And you already own a shop? That's impressive and you bake?" Light actually has to laugh as Harry answers all of Sayu's questions with an uneasy smile. It seems the Master of Death can be made uncomfortable by a fifteen-year-old girl with too much energy.

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"Are you really twenty-three?" He walks Harry back to the shop even if it is completely unnecessary.

"In this world, yes. At least my body is." Light really wants to ask what this cryptic answer can mean, wants to ask how many worlds are out there and what defines them. He wants to know it all, wants to have the ability to bend time and space to his will – he truly wants to know what it is to be a God and not someone who provides justice with a notebook.

"Harry?" Green eyes blink at him. "How does one become the Master of Death?" He expects a joke, a frown or just a blank stare and no words at all. Instead, the Master of Death smiles at him, soft and gentle.

"At least now I know what to get you for your birthday." And Light doesn't know if he should feel flattered or scared or exhilarated by the fact that this God somehow remembers something as trivial his birthday.

He doesn't ask the question again and Harry doesn't answer. Ryuk chuckles into the night, both the Master of Death and Kira ignoring him.

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Tuesdays are slow – the old man doesn't show up that day. No, instead a boy with raven hair who shoulders the weight of the world onto his shoulders wonders into the shop, but that's where the resemblance stops.

Harry Potter never had a choice.

On the third week of February, L Lawliet walks into his shop.

"Watari is away on business." His thumb trails onto thin lips. Ryuk has pauses to watch the scene. Harry blinks at the curious man with the curious nature. "He said you usually have tea." He adds after a moment, voice flat.

"And Pie." Black eyes widen, a slow careful smile spreading on a childlike face. "Cheesecake apple pie then?" And with that, Harry waves towards the table near the front, to the man who suddenly looks much younger than he is.

"It's a good thing Light doesn't come on Tuesdays, ne?" Harry pretends not to hear Ryuk and mumbles under his breath as the tea seat bounces on the tray.

The Shinigami cackles and cackles, the sound carrying over the chatter inside the shop where only one person can hear.

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Death wears the skin of a pretty brunette. Ryuk is nowhere to be seen.

"Should I be concerned that my Master seems at ease here, being entertained by these humans?" Fingers trail on Harry's cheek, cold and lifeless – just like a puppet.

"You know better than that." And the pretty brunette smiles, teeth white and perfect as a hand trails from his face, to his neck and then to his shoulder.

"Yes, I do. After all, Death is your gift." An ominous whisper, close to his ear. The Master of Death allows the creature to lull him into a trance, until the world disappears.

Death is my gift.

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On February 28th, Light Yagami finds a book on his desk – a limited edition of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, with a bookmark placed in between page twenty-two and page twenty-three.

Ryuk's head tilts to the side.


a/n: This chapter was depressing as hell (sorry!). I'm so happy people like this story and this idea, I certainly didn't expect this much feedback and I hope everyone continues to review and favourite and follow this story. It's so nice to hear from all of you! Don't be shy, whatever you have to say makes me happy. I hope you enjoyed this second chapter, please leave a review and thank you for reading. Till next time.