Just a little drabble that popped into my mind.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Supernatural

Harry didn't expect to have any awareness of what was going on after he let Voldemort kill him.

He was dead, after all.

Dead people didn't usually have any awareness.

But he could feel the fabric of the robes he was wearing [robes he didn't recognize] and he could very definitely tell that he was seeing things; all there was to see was whiteness, mostly, so he wasn't sure if that really counted.

He also didn't expect the elderly man carrying a cane.

That was definitely a surprise.

"Hello, Harry." For some reason, Harry wasn't surprised that the man knew his name.

"Where am I?" There was no hoarseness in his throat, nothing at all to suggest that Harry was at anything but the absolute peak of health. It was kind of creepy, and so was the man standing in front of him.

Harry didn't know why, but something gave him the feeling that the man might be a little more than a man.

"Oh, I've no idea," The man replied, glancing around disinterestedly. "This is your space, after all. I merely popped in for a chat. Had to delay someone else trying to do the same thing. You're a very popular person to speak with tonight, it seems, for someone so recently dead."

Harry swallowed, part of him surprised that he still could. "I'm really dead?"

"Only technically." The man studied him carefully, eyes narrowing in a considering gaze. "Harry Potter. Boy who Lived. Didn't really live up to the moniker this time, did you? I'm surprised you did the first time."

"I think a lot of people were."

The man didn't smile. "What do you say we go somewhere more comfortable to continue this conversation?"

Their surroundings changed so abruptly that Harry didn't even notice when they did, but the fact remained that he was suddenly sitting in a small restaurant with the man sitting across from him.

"What-" Harry swiveled around in his chair, noticing that no one seemed to be bothered by the fact that he was wearing robes. "Where are we?"

"Chicago." The man answered shortly, serving himself from a pizza - or at least that's what Harry thought it was [it didn't look like a pizza] - that was sitting in the center of the table on a raised dish.

Harry stared. "How am I in Chicago if I'm dead?"

"You were only technically dead, and besides, it isn't your time yet." The man stared impassively at Harry as he took a bite, before continuing. "You walked into that forest with my stone expecting to die, welcoming it, in fact. I must say, it's gratifying to find someone who doesn't panic quite so much at the thought of meeting me."

Harry's initial reply stuck in his throat. "Your stone?" He asked eventually?"

"Are all humans this dull?" The man asked, sounding bored. "Yes, my stone. I assume you're capable of putting two and two together."

Harry took a deep breath. "You're Death."

"Oh, finally. I didn't know how long we might be sitting here." Death sighed, sitting back in his seat. "Yes."

"Why would you want to talk to me?"

"I believe I mentioned it already." Death's gaze pinned Harry to his seat, not that he would have dared move anyway. "My stone. I believe you also have my cloak, and possession of my wand."

"I don't have the wand." Harry shook his head. "Voldemort does."

"Yes, he does, but he doesn't own its allegiance. Tell me, who did he kill to gain that?"

Harry mentally backtracked before realizing what Death meant. "Snape," He said outloud. "Because Snape killed Dumbledore-"

"Yes, he did, and you are making the same elementary mistake as your nemesis." Death dumped a slice of pizza onto the plate which sat in front of Harry. "Eat. Maybe it will make you realize what you're missing."

Harry stared at the slice, mind racing. He didn't move to touch it.

"I said eat." Death said severely, startling Harry into motion. He sawed off a hesitant piece and put it in his mouth without thinking, surprised to discover that the pizza was better than it looked.

And then it hit him.

"Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore," He said, staring at nothing in particular as his mental gears whirred. "Before Snape even got there...but then he would have allegiance of it."

"Would he?" Death seemed irritated, in the manner of one who is tired of explaining something they find incredibly easy to grasp. "And what exactly happened the last time you two met?"

"I rescued him from the fire-"

"Before that. Before Hogwarts or any of your petty battles. What did you do?"

Harry opened his mouth and then stopped, backtracking over the events that had occurred at Malfoy Manor. It seemed like it had been ages ago. "I disarmed him."

"And finally you understand." Death turned his attention back to his pizza.

"But - if I really do own all three - does that make me-"

"Master of Death?" Luckily, Death seemed amused and not upset. "If that were true, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you and sharing this pizza, now would I?" He gestured to the slice impatiently. "Finish that. You shouldn't waste it. In any case," he continued as Harry dug into the slice [because a) living with the Dursleys had taught him to eat when he could, even if Hogwarts had lessened that instinct and b) it was surprisingly good pizza] "Whoever came up with the idea of being Master of Death was some wizard who convinced himself he'd gain even more power if he could get his hands on all three." Death's gaze became suddenly flat. "I don't enjoy being mastered."

"Did he?" Harry asked cautiously after a few moments had passed."

"I've no idea." Death said airily. "The wizard - or witch, I suppose - in this case is purely hypothetical. It had to have been one of you humans." Death lowered his utensils, gazing at Harry with hooded eyes. "You're the first to possess all three."

Harry wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, and Death's expression wasn't giving him any clues. "So...the story about the three brothers," He said, trying to change the topic. "That's true?"

"Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus," Death mused. "What troublemakers. I should have taken them on the spot, never mind their magic."

"The story said that you lured people to the river to kill them."

The look Death gave Harry made him think that that was the wrong thing to say. "Some people," Death said severely, "Somehow manage to live beyond their assigned time. The river was there to give me and my reapers a convenient place to correct that issue - one of many that there are in the world. The fact that they managed to get past it was...irritating. I happened to be there in person because I could tell that something was going to go wrong."

Harry chewed slowly, wanting answers but at the same time wanting to avoid antagonizing the being in front of him. "So...you gave them what they wanted?"

"I knew it would lead to their deaths. Only Ignotus was meant to live very long, but he was the only one of the three who had a different time." Death said matter-of-factly, as if stating that Voldemort was evil.

Like it was something everybody should know, and Harry was clearly being stupid not knowing it.

"Why do you want to talk to me, then?"

Harry could have sworn that the cafe darkened, but nothing looked different and on second look he began to doubt himself.

"Those three items," Death said. "I want them back."

"...Okay. You want me to give them to you-?"

"It doesn't work like that." Death's condescending attitude returned in full. "If I could simply take them back, I would have intimidated some sap into handing whichever item they possessed centuries ago. No, I can only do so when the owner has died a natural death...unfortunately for me, these items are hard to keep secret, and anyone who owned them had nasty habits of dying unnatural deaths."

"Didn't the cloak get passed down?"

"Oh yes." Death glanced down to Harry's midsection, where he no doubt knew that the cloak was folded and hidden underneath Harry's robes [on his body, at least - it didn't seem to be with him now]. "But the Potters kept very neat and organized wills, and always very early on, so anyone that did die a natural death stopped owning it the moment they died. Ridiculous business for me." His eyes moved back up to meet Harry's. "And then you came along."

Harry didn't take another bite of the pizza. It felt like he was frozen.

"This is the first opportunity I have had in a very long time to get my hands on any of these items," Death said in a low voice. "So I advise you not to die early, or give away that cloak to anyone, or else I might just find myself visiting you again to remind you exactly why that is a bad idea."

"I understand," Harry managed, forcing his hands to lie flat on the table and not tremble. Death was a thousand times scarier than facing down Voldemort.

"Good." Death said dismissively. His eyes flickered to a point just behind Harry, and he turned to see that the patter of rain he'd heard earlier had turned into a driving thunderstorm. "Now, I believe you've got a battle to get back to, and I have a meeting with someone who, unfortunately, is crucial to making what I wish to happen, happen. Go."

The cafe vanished, and Harry had the distinct sense of falling before he was back in himself, nose filled with the smells of grass and the forest and a feeling in his chest like he'd been punched by someone wearing an iron glove.

Well? What do you think? Reviews are not only welcomed, but encouraged, so please leave a note in the little box down there! I know you see it.