AN: So... I'm starting this, too. This just came out when I was trying to start the second chapter for Uninvited. Oops... Ahem, Please review!


Chapter One: Beautiful Stranger

Harry glanced around the club, nursing his whiskey. The drink burned on the way down, but he hardly noticed. He wondered why he was here. No, he knew why he was here. Hermione. She'd told him to get back out into the world and do something with his life. He'd refused to join the Auror program. He and Ginny had given their relationship a try, but when he'd walked in on her and Dean Thomas, he'd called it off, despite her pleas.

That had been... so long ago.

He couldn't really remember how long it'd been. He'd not been alone since, but he hadn't actively sought someone out for companionship more than two or three times. It upset the whole family that he chose to be single for so long. And, it really had been long. Dame near twenty years. All of his friends had some grey hair now. And lines around their eyes. Ron's wand shook as he held it in his hands. Hermione was now on arthritis potions. Ginny's daughter was entering the Auror program.

Harry... hadn't really aged a day. He'd shot up in his last year of school, while searching for the Horrocrux's. Had grown to almost as tall as Ron, and bulking up. Hermione had said she'd put nutrition potions in the food so that they could have as many calories as possible while there was little to go around. Still, the nutrition potion's had helped. He'd also built up quite a bit of muscle. He was what the youth of today called "fit". He looked around nineteen, and had for the passed sixty-eight years.

The Master of the Deathly Hollows. He hated that term, but it was who he was. He'd spoken to Death. The bastard had refused to take them back and give him what he wanted. Mortality. Harry was an immortal. "A wizard who is an immortal. The most powerful creature on the planet. Don't fuck it up." Death warned, before he disappeared.

The years went on, and his friends began to age, while he stayed the same. He had decided, when they reached an age where they wouldn't need him much anymore, he would travel across the world. He'd been many places. Seen many things. Japan, where the Shinto were, he had learned taming his body and his mind and water magic. Greece, where he'd learned from the priests and priestess about earth magic and being grounded. China and the power of the dragon and fire magic and how to handle his emotions and thoughts. He was finally a master Occlumens and Legimens. And, finally up to Greenland, where wind magic was favored and how to survive anywhere.

Currently, he was in New York, on vacation. Where Hermione had sent him, after he'd come home to see them. She had listened to his tales, how he'd lived in the other countries for years to hone his abilities and how he'd come to master almost all forms of elemental magic. He'd been planning to go to South Africa, to learn the most ancient of magics. But, before he could even get out what his plan was, his best friend stood, planted her hands on her hips and glared down at him.

"You, young man," She started, as Harry scoffed, "are taking a vacation!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, we're the same bloody age!"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Harry Potter!"

Harry flinched at the use of his name. He always felt like Aunt Petunia was shouting at him when she used his name like that. Feeling properly chastised, he agreed to take a small, ten year, vacation. Besides, he still had all of his inheritance to spend. Which, honestly at this point, was just compounding interest. He had no need to want for anything, really.

Which brought him to where he stood in the bar, wondering why he was here. He didn't need anything. The alcohol couldn't even get him drunk. He set his drink down, ignoring the flirtatious look from the bartender and waitress. He stepped out into the November air and sighed as he felt his magic calm. He didn't like large crowds.

He looked to the left and then to the right as he crossed the street and neared a loud group of people as they laughed at something the man in the middle said. The man in the middle looked mildly familiar, but he shook his head. He'd met so many people in the years that he's been alive, it was sometimes hard to remember everyone he'd had an encounter with. He shook it off and a tried to pass.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, attempting to walk around the group.

"Hang on, wait," called out a British voice. Harry stopped at the sound. It'd been a year since he'd heard another British voice. "Turn to me."

Harry rolled his eyes and the authority in the mans voice. Still, he wanted to see what the man looked like, since he'd not really gotten a good look in the middle of the night. He turned back to the man. He was a little taller than Harry, but much lither. Harry had quite a bit more muscle, though no one would every call him large. The other man wore a black suit, with a purple silk shirt and black tie. His eyes were scanning him, head to toe, and were brown. They appeared critical of what they saw, as though he was used to being disappointed. He had some scruff on his face, and dark brown hair to match. Green met brown.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked, sounding bored. The man was handsome, striking even, but Harry had seen many attractive men in his time. Being pan-sexual was just the natural thing to be for Harry, because long term companionship was... difficult. So, usually, Harry wasn't picky. But, he did have a thing for brown eyes. When they weren't looking at him like he was a rat.

The brow above the brown eyes quirked in annoyance, "Cheeky aren't you?" He glanced around to the group, who was observing the exchange. Harry noticed some, seemed, nervous. The man sniffed. "Jump up and down."

Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Why on earth would I do that?"

The man frowned, his eyes widening in shock. "Because I said so," he demanded.

"And," Harry responded, his voice still bored, but a frown forming between his eyes.

The man shook the two women's hands off of him and stepped forward. "Wha-how?" He looked him up and down again, as though searching for something.

Harry shook his head in wonder, "How what?" He glanced at the group again, most looking frightened by him or the man. "What on earth is wrong with them?"

The man glanced behind him, before shaking his head, "Leave, all of you." He waved a hand and the group turned and walked in different directions. The man gave Harry his full attention. "Tell me, what is your name?"

Harry raised a brow, "Why?"

The man stared at him in shock. "I..." But, then, he stopped. He looked at Harry as though he were the biggest mystery in the world. He reached up and slowly touched Harry's arm, as though trying to decide if he was real. He stared into Harry's eyes with wonder as him mouth was open in shock.

"I'm waiting for the reason as to why I should give you my name," Harry demanded, relishing in the warmth that the man was giving through his hand.

The man's mouth snapped shut at that, before he blinked. "Please, may I have your name?" He'd sounded like he'd never said please before in his life. And maybe he hadn't. Maybe he was spoiled, and used to getting his way, literally, because he'd said so. Still, he looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth from it, and it made Harry smile.

"My name is Harry," Harry responded. He'd noticed the man still hadn't removed his hand, even as he smiled a million watt smile at him.

"Harry..." the man lead off, trying for his last name.

Harry rolled is eyes, "Harry Black," he conceded. That was another thing he'd done when he'd started traveling, change his name from Potter to Black. Every magical community in the world recognized his name. It was almost as famous as Neal Armstrong in the muggle community.

The smile brightened and Harry found himself smiling back. He wasn't so bad looking when he wasn't so arrogant.

"And you," Harry asked.

"Killgrave," the man responded. He finally stepped back, removing his hand. "My name is Killgrave."

"Well," Harry said, pulling his jacket tighter. "You know my name, and I know... yours, I think." He looked the man up and down again. "Unless there is another name with that."

Killgrave shook his head, looking him up and down again. "You're hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

Harry shook his head. Back to arrogant. "No, I'm not. I just left that bar because I'm on my way home." He turned to leave when Killgrave started.

"Wait..." he raised his hands in front of Harry before he could leave. "How are you doing this?!"

Harry frowned, "Doing what?"

"This!" He motioned his hands up and down. "This!" He emphasized between them.

Harry shook his head, clearly no understanding.

"You..." Killgrave pointed to Harry, "You're not listening to me!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm not." He crossed his arms again. "I'm allowed to not listen to anyone I damn well please," he glared at Killgrave.

Killgrave nodded, also rolling his eyes, "Of course, but just not me!"

Harry stared at him, incredulously, before shaking his head, laughing. "You're dead serious, aren't you?"

Killgrave glared back, "Yes, I am!"

Harry shook his head again, before patting Killgrave on the should. "Good luck, mate." He turned away, rolling his eyes. That muggle thought he could just snap his fingers and get a date with Harry by telling Harry if he was hungry. Still, not a bad way to get attention.

In fact, he'd been the most interesting person to come out of this city. He stopped walking. Should he? No, the guy was arrogant! But, funny. And charming. Despite his arrogance and the way he demanding things. Still, the way he'd said please... Harry shuddered. Despite the fact it appeared the man never said, it sounded delicious from his voice.

'Dammit!' Harry thought to himself. He turned back around, seeing Killgrave standing there staring at his hands. He looked so helpless. Poor little sod.

"Killgrave," Harry said, a little loudly, so the man heard him. Killgrave's head shot up as he stared in wonder as Harry approached him. Harry reached in to Killgraves own jacket pocket and took out the purple pen he'd know would be there. The man seemed like he carried pens on his person. He took Killgraves warm hand and uncapped the pen. "Here." He wrote down his mobile number and wrote Harry under it. "For when you stop being arrogant and actually ask me on a date like a normal person." He presses the pen back into Killgrave's hand. "Call me when that happens." With that he turned and walked away, a smile on both of their faces.