Chapter 6

Harry sat opposite the man and sipped at the coffee. It was delicious. Freshly ground and the perfect amount of milk. Harry smiled at the man in front of him as he took another sip.

"Delicious" Harry hummed from behind the mug.

"Glad you're enjoying it," the man nodded as he continued to gently run his hand across Wilson's fur as the dog lapped at the water in the bowl. It seemed that the man really did have a passion for dogs. He kept slipping the dog treats under the table to the enthusiastic dog; buying the dog's loyalty, how predictable. Harry smiled fondly at the man. He seemed gruff and harsh on the outside, yet his love for the dog was evident.

The two sat in companionable silence as they both sipped at their coffee. The man stood from the table at one point to bring over a pot of pre brewed coffee and a plate of cakes. He had mumbled for Harry to help himself. Harry's grin widened in thanks as had picked at a treacle tart in response to the man's gruff offer.

Harry had been sitting for around an hour and a half with the man whose name he had still not learned, saying only the occasional word, before they were interrupted by the entry of a group of young women. There were three of them; a blonde, a brunet and a raven. The blonde was yelling at the brunette, while the raven haired girl stood behind them; rolling her eyes.

The brunette saw the pair of them sitting at the table and skipped across to them.

"Master" she smiled "I thought you said you had no family," she said with a giggle "You said they all died." She stuck her tongue out. "Who could this be then?"

The newly named Master simply glared at the young girl. Although Harry could see a little flinch in the man's shoulder as the girl spoke.

"Go and get your uniform on Me-me," the man scowled.

Harry watched as the girl went into the back room. She seemed unconcerned with the glare that followed her from 'Master'. Harry watched her go, before he turned back toward 'Master'.

"Your name can't really be Master?" Harry said in a whisper with a small smirk. The man simply grunted in return, averting his gaze.

"And, I don't mean to pry, but what that girl said about your family…" Harry didn't know how he was going to finish that sentence. He had started with no aim in mind. He just wanted to reassure the man, to take the unpleasant look off his face. It didn't seem to sit well there. Harry wanted it to look…better?

"Don't worry about it," the man said with a gruff response, although it reassured Harry, just a little. He gave a small smile back, before he grabbed the last treacle tart and quickly scoffed it down. He was dead, after all. There was no reason to eat in moderation.

"Well" Harry stood up with a small smile "I think I better be going. My…someone may be looking for me." Harry looked with an awkward shrug.

"How about I come back tomorrow?" Harry received a small nod from the man before he gave a small wave.

"Oh" he suddenly realised as he turned back toward the 'Master'. "My name's Harry by the way, anyway, I'll see you tomorrow." Harry quickly turned and walked out of the shop.

That meant that he didn't see the look of shock on the face of the man that he had left at the table.

Harry walked into the coffee shop again the next day. The small bell above the door rang as he stepped through. Harry fingered the money that sat in his pocket. He had asked Death to lend him some, just so that he could pay 'Master' back from his kindness, as well as purchasing another one of those lovely treacle tarts.

However as Harry entered the room, he was not greeted by the serious face of the man that he had talked to yesterday. Instead one of the three girls along with two males that seemed around Harry's age. One had hair as black as Harry's that covered one eye. The other was a blonde, standing slightly taller than the black haired boy. Both were wearing uniforms for the cafe. The girl was dressed in a similar looking uniform, her blonde hair ruffled around her head as she scowled at the two young men.

Harry found himself wondering why there were so many members of staff when Harry couldn't see a single other customer in the place. He would have to talk about to 'Master' about his decadence.

"Welcome" the young man with black hair said with a small bow to Harry.

"Oh" the same boy started, sounding slightly put out, but mostly unconcerned. "No pets allowed I'm afraid," the one eyebrow that could be seen raised in response to his statement.

"Ummm" Harry's face was full of question. "I am looking for Master…he, he told me to come over today?" It mostly came out as a question.

"Oh" the black haired young man said again, in the same tone. He seemed utterly indifferent to Harry's uncomfortable fumbling.

"Well, Master isn't here right now and I am sorry to say that I will have to enforce the no pets rule." Harry only got a slight look of disdain from the young man.

Harry blinked and then blinked again.

"But Master said…" he was cut off.

"As I said, there is a no pets rule in place. Please leave."

Harry sighed.

"Well, come along then Wilson." Harry led the dog from the cafe. The bell jingled and Harry felt a frown come onto his face. Well, it seemed that he would just have to wait.

There was a bench opposite the cafe, where Harry would he able to see all those who entered and left the small establishment. Not that there were many people doing either. It seemed that there was no 'lunch rush' just as there had been no breakfast one. Harry watched as the minutes turned to hours and yet still there were no customers and no sigh of 'Master'.

Harry had been on the bench for nearly two hours, his legs lazily swinging in boredom. He was thinking of calling it a day and coming back tomorrow. However, as he sat, rocking forward slightly in the anticipation of his upright position, he saw the man that he had been looking for. But the man did not see him. Harry could see the bell, but he was too far away to hear the jingle.

The man was dressed in casual attire, what looked like a jumper and jeans as he quickly darted into the shop. It looked good on him.

Harry stood from the bench with a small smile. He was looking forward to seeing the man. He wasn't sure why. He just felt a buzz in the pit of his stomach and the tingle of excitement. Even though the man said only a few words, Harry got along with him. He felt he was a man that could be trusted. Maybe they could even become friends.

Harry pushed open the door for the second time that day. The bell jingled and again the eyes of the young servers looked to him.

"Sir, I already told you" the black haired boy started again, scowling unpleasantly. Harry wasn't deterred. He had faced down Snape from age eleven. The look the boy had on, was nearly laughable.

"You cannot bring your dog in here." Harry wanted to scoff.

Instead he merely blinked up at the young man. He was starting to annoy him. No matter the person, one should treat them with respect. Harry would at least try to be polite.

"I'm sorry, but Master said…"

"No, I'm sorry sir, rules are rules" the boy looked bored as he interrupted Harry.

"Can you just get him please? I'm sure he'll say it's okay." Harry had to take a breath, not to snap at the young man.

"He's not in sir. You'll have to come back later." The boy only raised an eyebrow. Harry could feel frustration bubbling within him. The nerve of this young man. Lying to his face. Harry did not like lying. His hand itched. The scar he had been forced to cut into his own skin tingling.

"I just saw him" Harry frowned at the black haired young man. It was all he could do not to take a swing at him. His fingers tightened in Wilson's fur. "I'm sure he's in the back…" His teeth were clenched though the words.

Harry was interrupted.

"I'm sorry sir. Please leave. Or I will be forced to remove you."

Threatening him now was he? Harry was used to threats. He didn't take them lightly and neither did his magic. He could feel it sparkling at his fingertips, begging to be let out. He was ready to attack if he needed to. His instincts were honed through the violence of war. This boy wouldn't know what hit him.

"Remove me?" Harry nearly growled. Wilson whined as the fingers tightened further. Harry quickly removed them.

"Indeed sir. As I said, no dogs allowed."

The young man still seemed rather unconcerned about the threat that he was making. Even though Harry's face was thunder and his voice steel, the man didn't even look up, picking at his nails. Oh, he was cocky now was he.

"And as I said, the Master invited me." Harry could feel his anger raising to the surface. His magic had had enough. Flames began to spark, covering his finger tips, flitting in and out of existence, but each time coming back more powerful. Harry could feel the warmth trickling across his hands.

That seemed to get the boy's attention at least. He straightened up.

"Calm down please sir." The boy was looking at his hands with suspicion. He seemed a little more concerned now.

Good, Harry thought. Here were the hands that had faced down Voldemort multiple times, taking the very man's life. Here was the magic that had killed a Basilisk at twelve and turned a man to ash by nothing but touch. He was the saviour that had killed Death Eaters and Werewolves. He was the Master of Death and now he was angry.

The anger was far more intense than anything he had felt in weeks. It was burning within him. The rage and turmoil, nearly setting him alight. All he wanted to do was see Master. Harry was far too gone in his anger to even attempt to clam down now. He told the brat as much.

"I will not calm down." Harry's eyes were glaring, his nostrils flaring as his teeth clenched. The flames were growing bigger. His magic was lashing out. Spreading across the room, searching angrily for the one that had so angered its Master.

The blonde boy had now stepped forward, standing next to the black haired one as the young woman working with them had retreated behind the counter. They were on the offensive. That much was obvious. It seemed that they were a pair. So that was why they were so confident.

"Let me see Master" Harry growled out, his eyes fixed on the two. He was not going to let them from his site. They didn't respond.

A slick of metal and a rapid movement and in a blink the black haired man was holding a long and deadly looking sword in his hands. The blond, it seemed, was the weapon.

Harry adjusted his stance he could take them. The black haired boy lunged.

Fire still sparking at his hands and Harry quickly dodged. He had learned his lesson from his last fight. It seemed that here, in this new world, that pacifism was hard to come by.

Harry didn't attack, he only dodged. He watched the other's movements, taking him. He spread his magic wide, feeling the Weapon and his Meister. He would not let anger overtake him. He had no weapon. He would not be cut by the other.

However, unbeknownst to Harry, his magic had spread far further than just the small shop. Death magic, commanding, summoning, was spreading through Death City demanding compliance from those that followed it. They could feel its call; tugging at their very souls.

Spirit Albarn, who had been having a leisurely afternoon, walking through the streets of the city suddenly felt a wave of adrenaline, his heart pumping rapidly in his chest. His breath suddenly came faster and his pupils dilated rapidly in a mix of panic and excitement. He was being summoned. He was being summoned by a man already in battle.

Yet, this didn't feel like his summons usually did. He had never had Death pull at his very being like this before. It was far more intense, desperate, demanding. It was wilder than anything than anything that the immortal being had demanded before.

Without really thinking, Spirit's feet were pounding against the floor. He could feel the adrenaline thrumming from the summons, the heat of battle. He ran faster. Spirit followed the insistent pulling, letting himself prepare for whatever he would face when he got there.

Spirit's feet skidded to a halt outside a…coffee shop? Spirt pushed down his confusion aside, instead pushing open the door. Spirit pushed away the amusement that he felt as the little bell jingled. It just seemed so absurd the situation. But he didn't have time for such thoughts.

Spirit's blood was thrumming with adrenaline, his heart pumping and his eyes pinned on possible threats. Therefore one couldn't blame him for his response to the pull that he felt on his very soul. Couldn't blame him for diving into action without fully assessing the situation. Death had summoned him. Death would use him as he saw fit.

Therefore as he leapt into the air, changing, sharp and glinting in the light of the cafe, as hands grasped tightly onto his hilt, as he was swung through the air with precision and grace, it was only then that he realised the one that was holding him, was not Death.

The hands were too smooth, too small and even though the moves seemed skilled, they lacked the strength behind them that Spirit had come to associate with his Master. Yet, as he felt himself once again, sliced through the air, he couldn't help but feel even more exhilarated. This just felt so intense, nearly overwhelmingly so.

If not for the firm grip on his handle and the feeling of self assurance that he could feel tingling from the hands holding him, then he would feel utterly out of control. As it was, he was only just keeping a hold on himself.

Harry gripped the hilt of Spirit's blade tighter. He didn't know where the weapon had come from. He wasn't sure how he had know where Harry was, or that he needed help. However he was glad of it. The weapon, transforming, had perfectly landed in his hands.

Harry was only acting on instinct. He was swinging the blade through the air. The movements felt beautiful. His hands a perfect fit on the handle.

Harry bashed the weapon into a nose, knocking the black haired young man, in front of him, to the floor in one fluid movement. The sharp blade of Spirit was at the boy's neck in less than a second.

Harry was panting as he looked into the eyes of his fallen opponent. The boy was looking with wide and fear filled eyes at Harry's violence filled form. Harry's arm dropped, dropping the scythe in his hand. However before the metal could clatter to the floor, Spirit transformed back into his human form.

"Oh Shit" Harry's own eyes were soon wide. He had not meant to do that. It had not meant to get that far. He didn't like seeing the scared look of the young man below him.

"Shit" Harry muttered again. "Shit, shit, shit"

The Meister and his, now human formed weapon looked at it with suspicion.

"Sorry," Harry looked to the pair. "I, um, sorry." Harry really didn't know what to say. "Sorry." It sounded weak, even to his own ears.

However, it seemed that Harry didn't need many words. As a near reverent voice broke off the awkward conversation that would have been sure to follow.

"Harry?" It sounded close to begging.

Harry spun around at the voice. A rather messy looking Master was standing in the doorway, of what Harry assumed was the backrooms. Although his mind soon gave up any chance of thinking.

The man in the doorway was wearing slacks which were accompanied by a white shirt. A white shirt that was widely hanging open.

Harry froze.

There was black ink running across the man's chest. The tattoos that littered the skin were distinctive. They stood out. There was no one else that could have those tattoos. He had never seen them on anyone else before. The runic designs, the thick black lines. There was only one person that could have those marks painted on their skin.

"Sirius"