AN: Sorry for the delay. But, fantastic news! I'm pregnant! So... that means I'm wayyyy more tired! And, less likely to update. I'm really sorry, guys! I'll try to be better, though if you guys could, like, I don't know, nudge me every now and then, like with a PM, just to say, "hey, don't forget to write!" it might be easier. I know that's asking a lot of you guys, and it's totally my own responsibility, but when you're tired and pregnant, it's hard to remember to write.

So, this is mostly a filler for the set up. So, bear with me, while I try to built to something interesting! Please PM and REVIEW! They help, like, so much!

Harry turned down an alleyway, his steps never hesitating. He knew the woman was following him. He didn't know who she was, be it a spy for the ministry or someone who still lived from the war and hated him, or just someone who wanted to rob him, but he wasn't amused. He knew this alleyway led to nowhere, which is exactly what he wanted.

He fiddled with the Gaunt ring, activating the Invisibility cloak, then faded into the shadows and waited. The woman walked, almost casually (but, not casually enough), passed him and glanced around. He saw the look of confusion on her face as she saw the dead end and no sign of him. She was quite pretty, actually. Her hair was almost as black as his own, and her eyes were green, but his were bottle green, while her chartruse. She was pale, with bags under her eyes, and big lips. Honestly, Harry wouldn't be surprised if someone thought they were related.

She looked around, a frown forming between her eyes. He stepped out of the shadows behind her and deactivated the invisibility. She turned around and jumped when she saw him, her surprise evident.

"What do you want," Harry demanded.

She closed her eyes, catching her breath, "You scared the shit out of me." Harry didn't respond, so she continued, "I'm here to help you."

"With?" He wondered how this woman could help him with anything. Was she a prosititute?She was a little too skinny for his tastes. He liked his men lean, not women. He preferred women to be curvy and full figured. He glanced her up and down, then crossed his arms.

"Look, I know what it's like." She said, raising her hands placatingly, "To be controlled by him. Forced."

"Him? Controlled?" What in the hell was she talking about?

"Yes," she said, clearly thinking he understood. "I can help you. I'll keep you from him, and protect you."

"You'll protect me?" Harry asked, still not understanding what she was saying.

She nodded, "Yes, I will." She stuck her hand out, "I'm Jessica. Jessica Jones."

Harry glanced at her hand, "Fascinating." He didn't take it, so she awkwardly pulled it back. "Look, I have no idea what you're blathering on about, but I have an appointment to keep." He turned around, "Have a good life, Jessica Jones."

"I'm sorry he's making you do this." She said, hurridly, "I know how much it hurts, when you don't listen." She rushed around him, "It's like knives, isn't it? When you don't. Like every cell in you body wants to listen, and it's all you want, too." She sighed, and looked at him with pity. "I know, okay? I get it. But, I can help you. I'm... I'm strong." She walked over and grabbed a bin lid, and proceeded to bend it in half. It was an impressive feet of strength, not that Harry was all that impressed.

He'd seen a half giant tie a shot gun into a bow. That would've been impressive. She continued with her rant though.

"I'll keep you from doing it! I promise! It'll wear off eventually, I know it will." She smiled, sort of reassuringly, and put her hand on his elbow. "It did for me."

Harry stared at her, with eyebrows raised, "My god," he said, breathily. She nodded to him, in apparent understanding, though Harry knew she didn't. "You are absolutely insane." He jerked his arm back, and walked around her, "I cannot wait to tell 'Mione about this." He waved his hand in the air, "See you around, Jessica Jones," he called out, over his shoulder, before turning out of the alleyway and leaving her in shock.

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Harry walked into his apartment, setting the keys down, thinking about what the woman had said to him. She had obviously been following him for more than just a day. She had to have been following him, and someone he knew, for a while now. He frowned as he thought of who he could have been in contact recently that made her think that he was being "controlled" by someone.

The only person was Killgrave. But, Harry knew for a fact he wasn't being controlled by the man. It was impossible. Not only was Killgrave a muggle, and Harry a wizard, but Harry was also the Master of Death.

Still, this woman was convinced he had no control over his own actions. That caused minor concern in Harry to form. He frowned, fearing what this could mean if he could be controlled. Could someone figure out he was the Master of Death and then control him?

What should he do? He walked over to the oven, where he had set his blueberry scones from the previous night. After, he began to make tea, knowing his guest would be annoyed if he showed up and Harry didn't feed him. He rolled his eyes at his thoughts, but waved his hand anyway. The moment his hand lifted, a figure stood before him.

He was a thin man, almost skeletal, with a large nose. His hair was black and receeding, causing the skeletal looking face to look moreso. He wore a suit, black with a trench coat and carried a cane, while on his finger sat an exact replica of the Gaunt ring, only the stone was white, instead of black. Death looked to his master stoically, silently judging and assessing him.

"Yes, Master," he drawled in question, his eyes sweeping Harry up and down.

"For the love of all that is holy, Azazel," Harry rolled his eyes, "stop with the 'Master' bullshite." He gestured to the chair in his dining room, where the scones already sat, before, with another wave of his hand, the tea tray floated out of the kitchen. Death, gracefully, sat in the opposite chair of his.

He was silent as he watched his master pour tea for him, adding the three sugars and four creams (just the way he like it) before sliding across the table. His master made his own tea, grabbed a scone, then gave Death his full attention. Still, Death said nothing, simply waited.

Finally, Harry's patience waned. "Alright, I know you've kept an eye on me. I know you know everything I've been doing." He glanced around, noticing the just out of sight shadows that crept along the walls. "I know about your spies."

Death didn't glance around, though he was aware that his reapers had now made an exit with his appearance. He took a sip of tea, a bite of scone and chewed thoughtfully, before answering.

"You're speaking, of course, of Jessica Jones," he said finally, watching the annoyance flash across his master's face.

"Yes," Harry responded, sipping his own tea. "What on earth is wrong with her? Why does she think I'm being controlled?"

Death didn't answer immediatly. He tilted his head to the side, assessing the situation. There were things his master needed to know immediately, and things he would learn on his own. "She is a meta-human. A mutant, if you will. She has incredible strenth, as you observed. She thinks you're being controlled because she herself was controlled."

"By who?"

"Not my place to tell," Death said, taking another bite of scone.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Is it Killgrave? Is he also a mutant?" He leaned forward, "Could he control me?"

Death responded, after licking his lips. "No, Master. Not in this lifetime, or the next, could Killgrave ever be able to control you." He sipped his tea, "You are the Master of Death. There is no force on this plane of existance, or the next, that could control you."

Harry sighed in relief. Well, that settled that fear. He took a sip of his tea, a bite of scone, rubbed his head a little. At least he knew he couldn't be controlled by anyone. And, Killgrave wasn't able to control him, which meant that his feelings for Killgrave were real. But, then, he realized as he was staring into his tea, that Death hadn't answered the other two questions he had asked.

Harry looked up, his mouth open to ask again, but Death had disappeared. Ass, he thought, sipping his tea again.

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Killgrave smiled at Harry as they walked side by side through the park. They were heading to a Chinese resturaunt that Killgrave had heard of. He had asked several people what the best Chinese place was, and almost all of them had said the place that he had suggested to Harry.

He had so hoped for more kissing in a car, but Harry had mentioned that it wasn't far from his flat, and that Killgrave should ride over and then walk. Killgrave was both excited and disappointed. Any time with Harry was good enough for him, though, and so he agreed easily.

Harry was recanting his week. He'd apparently had an old family friend over for tea, though the friend had business to attend so was only able to stay a small while. Killgrave didn't like the idea of Harry being with people he knew and Killgrave didn't, mostly because what if it was an old fling?

"Who is this old friend?" Killgrave asked, genuinely curious.

"His name is Ezra," Harry smiled, almost fondly. "His this old, ancient, family friend who walks with a cane, though, I'm pretty sure he just has it to seem 'imposing'."

Killgrave smiled back. And old, ancient family friend was fine, then. "What was his visit for?"

"He was offering me council," Harry said, casually bringing his hand to Killgraves back, as they entered the establishment. They were seated before they began their conversation again.

"Council on what?" Killgrave asked, glancing at the menu, though he already knew he'd be getting the Kung-Pao chicken. Fried rice, no egg.

Harry perused the menu, before responding, "I asked him over because of this woman that was following me."

Killgrave glanced up sharply at that, "Following you?"

Harry nodded, not noticing the change in Killgrave, as he was engrossed in the menu. "Yeah... some crazy bint name Jessica. She told me she could 'help me' and that she knew what it was like to be forced." Harry rolled his eyes, setting the menu down, before noticing the very blank look on Killgrave's face. "Are you alright?"

Killgrave blinked rapidly, before nodding, "Yes, sorry." He took a sip of water, before smiling, "I just... the strangest thing. I had someone walk up to me, just this week and ask if I knew the devil was inside of me. It just... you know, reminded me of that." He chuckled, before turning to the waitress who walked up to take their orders.

Jessica was in so much trouble.

AN: Just so you guys know "Ezra" is another name for the angel of death. Harry would NEVER give out Death's true name. And, while many people know his name, and say it, it's not really knowing his name, so much as, knowing HIM.