By the time Rhodey is ready to retire to his floor, Tony is stressed the fuck out. He loves his platypus, loves that the other man is more than willing to spend his small amount of free time with him, but his head is fucking reeling with Hari's revelation.

She's the Mistress of Death.

The Mistress of Death is Hari Potter.

Tony can't even.

Rhodey shakes Hari's hand again, smiles genuinely at her and says, "It was nice to meet you, Hari. I hope I'll be seeing more of you."

Hari smiles back, a little hesitant, but no less genuine. "I hope so, too," she says quietly.

Rhodey whispers in Tony's ear as he walks by, "You did good, Tones. I'm really happy for you." And with a clap on his back and a sly wink, Rhodey makes his way to the elevator.

The silence is thick and tense, with Tony staring at Hari cautiously and Hari fidgeting under his stare.

"So…" Tony says. He opens his mouth, hesitates, then motions for her to follow him. He doesn't lead her to his bedroom again, instead chooses the living room and settles into one of the plush couches.

Hari gingerly sits on the couch next to him. "So," she echoes, fiddles with her hands. "This is a little awkward."

Tony lets out a little laugh, but it sounds stilted and forced. "Yeah, awkward is one way of putting it," he murmurs. He stares at her, his lips thinning. "I assume you got a meeting from…Death?"

Hari studies him, her head cocked to the side. "Yes. How did you meet Death? I thought you were a Muggle."

"A what now?"

Her eyes light up in understanding, and then a grimace overtakes her beautiful features. She hesitates, bites her lip, averts her eyes for a brief moment. Then she takes a deep breath and stares at him with her head held high. "A Muggle is a term British magical people use to describe non-magical people," she says softly.

He doesn't really know what to say. To say that he was non-magical implies that she is magical. He remembers cold blue eyes, a menacing grin, an echo of, "How will your friends have time for me when they're so busy fighting you?"

Ever since Loki, he's been apprehensive with anything magical. The arc reactor had saved him before, stopped the god from overpowering his mind, but he doesn't have it anymore. He's defenseless when it comes to magic, and as he stares at Hari, this beautiful woman who has been managing to get under his skin for the past few weeks, he realizes that he doesn't want to defend himself against her.

Not that he can't protect himself. They've been a thing only for the past few weeks; it would suck to break it off, but he could do it if he needed to. Maybe this makes him pathetic, but he likes her. He enjoys the time they spend together, in and out of the bedroom, finds himself fascinated by the way she way she speaks her mind, the innermost thoughts she let him peak at, the acceptance and goodness that she radiates.

"So, you...have magic?" He licks his suddenly dry lips. "The most prominent experience with magic that I have is the mind-controlling kind."

She pales, her complexion almost resembling curdled milk, looks sick to her stomach. There's a hint of sympathy that makes him pause. "What?" she cries, aghast. "Tony, that's...that's illegal!"

He brows furrow in confusion. His mind whirls at breakneck speeds, taking in all of what she's saying – and all of what she's not saying.

Illegal implies that the action, in this case mind control, is prohibited by law, which further implies that there are laws to begin with.

Sympathy implies that she shares his feelings, also in regards to mind control, which then further implies that her mind was, at one point, under the control of someone else.

Her dismayed expression, the way her lip is curled in disgust, tells him that she also sees it as something horrible, and he finds himself being put at ease. This isn't a woman who would pull a Loki and go on a killing spree in a breathtaking display of Daddy Issues Meets Delusions of Grandeur.

Tony clears his throat. "Let's start this all over," he says. "Magic is real, and you have magic. You're a...?"

"I'm a witch," Hari says, "but Tony, if someone is going around casting Unforgivables, then they need to be stopped. What can you tell me of the incident?" Her voice is authoritative, commanding in a way he's never heard from her, and he's abruptly reminded that she used to work in law enforcement. Magical law enforcement, he realizes.

"This is so amusing to watch, it's almost painful," a voice muses just to Tony's side.

Tony nearly flinches off the couch, turns his head sharply. Death is seated next to him, legs crossed primly, robe riding up and showing off white bone.

Hari crosses her arms, glares at Death. "You knew," she nearly hisses. "And why the bloody hell didn't you just tell me who your Merchant was? Or that someone is going around casting the Imperius Curse?"

Despite the anxiety he feels at having Death itself seated next to him, Tony can't help but admire how ballsy Hari is.

Death huffs imperiously. "I am as bound to certain laws as any other being in this universe," it says. "I already interfered too much by saying as much as I did. Besides, when I spoke to each of you, you had already become...acquaintances. How was I to know it would take even longer for you to make the connection?"

Hari throws her arms in the air. "It's not something you bring up randomly in conversation!" she defends. "And you still haven't said anything about the loony that's off casting an Unforgiveable on Muggles!"

Death sighs, turns to Tony. "She's like a dog with a bone," it says. Then Death pauses, eyes Hari suspiciously (which is amazing considering the lack of facial features), and then pulls the robe down, covering the exposed femur.

Tony doesn't know what to make of all this, really.

"It was about a year and a half ago," he tells Hari. "And we know exactly who it was. The situation has already been handled, I promise."

Hari nearly sags in relief. "I'll bet MACUSA wasn't happy," she muses aloud.

Tony is getting more confused with every word she spits out, which is an amazing feat because, hello, genius.

Death laughs, and it sends little shivers up Tony's spine. "Oh, Mistress, how behind on the times you are," it sneers. "The incident my wonderful Merchant is talking about had nothing to do with MACUSA or any other magical government or civilian. He's talking about the alien invasion that put this planet on the map, so to speak."

"I don't remember the news ever mentioning mind control," Hari murmurs, confused.

"They didn't," Tony says. "The mind control was kept from the public because of the mass panic it could cause. Aliens was…more than enough to deal with."

Hari looks torn at this, grimaces.

Death claps its hands together. "Really, I'm so very glad that we're talking like civilized adults," it says. "But I did not come here to rehash old information." The air becomes heavier, thick and tense. "Thanos is coming."

"Who exactly is Thanos?" Hari asks quietly.

With a snap of its fingers, an image appears before them. The alien is large, beefy, with scarred purple skin, mouth stretched in a horrid parody of a grin. Tony can feel his heart picking up speed, thundering wildly in his chest, and he swallows thickly.

"The Mad Titan," Death whispers. "He seeks to wipe out half the universe."

"Why?" Hari asks, stares at the image with a hard look in her eyes.

"Why not?" Death counters.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Hari snaps. "You know why he's coming, so spill it."

Tony's eyes flicker back and forth between the two. He feels uneasy, the fine hairs on his arm standing at attention.

For a long moment, it seems like Death isn't going to answer. Hari's face is hard, unyielding, and she carries herself like a soldier, tall, relentless. Not the time, but he can't help but find this look on her incredibly attractive.

Then, Death sighs. "He wishes to prove himself worthy of my love," it confesses. "And he believes the best way to do that is by wiping out half the universe. Courting gifts, he calls it." Death scoffs. "Because, really, nothing is more romantic than giving me even more work to do."

Tony wonders if he looks as stunned as Hari does. Her jaw is slack, eyes wide, classic 'what the fuck did I just hear' expression. He himself is at a loss for words, reeling.

"The world is at stake for your love life?" Hari asks quietly, shocked.

Death huffs. "It's not like I want him to do this," it reasons. "Apocalypses have to be scheduled so myself and my reapers can accommodate the sudden influx of souls. There's already more than enough work to do, thank you very much!"

"Why us?" he manages.

Death turns to him. "Pardon?"

"Before, you said that if we wanted to defeat Thanos, we would have to join forces as your Chosen. Why us?"

Because being the Merchant of Death is something that he's come to associate with blood and shame, with misdeeds that need to be atoned for. And now there's a cosmic reason behind it, and as childish as it is, that's just not fucking fair. He's been trying so fucking hard to get rid of it, to be better, to be good.

Death laughs in dark amusement, reclines further into the couch. "As entrenched in death as you are, you need ask me this?"

Tony bristles.

"In my world," Hari says softly, "there was an old legend, more of a children's story. The Tale of the Three Brothers. In this story, three brothers managed to escape Death and were given three 'gifts' in reward. They were the Elder Wand, a powerful wand that let the witch or wizard become unbeatable; the Resurrection Stone, a stone that could call back the dead; and the Invisibility Cloak, a cloak that could shield the wearer even from Death. Legend said that combining all three of these artifacts would make someone immortal, and thus that person would become the Master or Mistress of Death."

"You gathered all three artifacts," Tony says.

Hari nods her head, bites her lip. "It was an accident," she admits. She meets his eyes, and continues earnestly, "I didn't even have all three of them at the same time, but it was…enough, I guess."

"It was no accident," Death says, affronted.

Hari purses her lips. "I did not intentionally set out to find these artifacts," she corrects. "I didn't even know they existed until shortly before I got them all. And it was supposed to be a legend, not real!"

"Legends ring with truths," Death supplies helpfully.

Tony points at the robed figure accusingly. "You stole that from Brave!"

"And although they are based in truth," Death continues, ignoring Tony, "there is more to the story than what you mortals recall." It stands up, smooths its robe. "Why did Hari Potter become my Mistress? Was it because of my Hallows? No, not entirely." It turns to Tony. "Why did Tony Stark become my Merchant? Was it because his wonderful inventions take the lives of their targets? Again, not entirely."

"Then why…?"

Death is focused on Hari. "You did not have all three of my Hallows, that is true, but you already had the allegiance of the Elder Wand when you physically had the other two in your possession, and that was enough to garner my attention. It is not enough to simply have all three of my Hallows, however. You have to be worthy of them, too. Only then can someone become the Master or Mistress of Death. Tell me, Mistress, do you know when you became worthy of the title?"

Hari shakes her head slowly. "No," she says quietly, so quiet that Tony has to strain to hear her.

"Most mortals, when faced with their own mortality, fight. It's human nature, I suppose, to fear me and all that I stand for," Death muses. "But you, Mistress, you didn't fight me. Oh, no. When you discovered that soul piece leached onto your own soul, when you realized how deeply your beloved mentor betrayed you, you didn't despair. You walked into that forest, knowing you would not come out alive. You walked to your demise, and when your heart stopped beating, in your final moments, you embraced me."

Tony's breath catches in his throat. "You died?"

Hari's eyes turn a little glossy, and she looks at him. "It was better me than them," she whispers.

Death turns to Tony. "It was a beautiful sort of irony, your own weapons being the cause of your near demise," it says, casual in its cruelty. "Unlike my Mistress, you do fear me. Don't deny it, my dear Merchant, I can practically smell it. You searched and searched for months trying to find a cure to the device poisoning you, didn't you? And in the end, after you fix the issue, the Chitauri invade Earth. You and your companions fight to defend the city, this planet by extension, and in the end it's nearly worthless. And yet, despite how you fear me, despite how the very thought of me wakes you up screaming into the night, you took that bomb on your back, and you flew it into that wormhole. It was as much a one-way journey as Mistress' stroll in the forest, you knew this, but you did so without hesitation."

Tony's heart is pounding in his chest. His throat is tight, and Hari's staring at him with such understanding, such heart-wrenching compassion that he has to squeeze his knees to hide his shaking hands. "It was better me than them," he repeats quietly.

"These titles are not mere monikers," Death sneers. "These are positions that you have earned. You are mortal now, of course, and you will live mortal lives until you perish. But once you enter my Realm, there is work that must be done, and to prepare for it, certain trials must be faced. It is for this reason I am only allowed to say so much."

"What if we don't want this?" Tony asks. He stares at Death, and his hands clench his knees even tighter until his knuckles are white. "Don't we, I don't know, deserve a break when everything is all said and done?"

"I already told you I don't have time to deal with your mortal sensibilities," Death says harshly. Then its voice softens, and it murmurs, "You may not see it now, but these positions are an honor."

There's a long silence as they digest and absorb this information. Death allows them these moments of silence, a mercy given the information that just got dumped on their heads.

"What can you tell us?" Hari asks. She seems to have come to terms with it all far quicker than Tony has.

"You have only five or six years to prepare for Thanos." Death turns to Tony. "In reality, without my Mistress, victory is possible, but it will be a pyrrhic victory." It turns to Hari. "Your help will be invaluable. After all, you've gone on a similar quest and came out the victor." Before that can really sink in, Death says, "Your allies will be invaluable. Use them."

And then Death is gone, a wisp of smoke, a chill that overtakes the room, and then it's just Tony and Hari. She rubs her hand over her face.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Tony asks quietly. "About you…having magic."

"Yes," she says without hesitation, putting him at ease. She grimaces a little. "There's something called the Statute of Secrecy to protect us from exposing magic to Muggles, so I couldn't exactly tell you about magic right away. I was going to see if we got more serious before I said anything."

Tony nods his acceptance, takes a deep breath. "It's a lot to take in," he admits.

"I understand. I didn't really believe it myself when I found out." She bites her lip. "Is my having magic going to be a problem? I understand if it is! I mean, like you said, it's a lot to take in, even without you having a history with mind control. I'm so sorry that happened to you. Mind control is…it's…I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"I, uh, actually managed to avoid it." At her questioning look, he explains, "I used to have an arc reactor in my chest to keep the shrapnel from getting to my heart, and for some reason, it was able to protect me."

Hari frowns, confused. "That's strange. Magic usually disrupts technology; it's only been recent that we managed to make small electronics work around magic." Her eyes widen when she realizes what that sounds like, waves her arms around wildly. "Not that I'm not happy that you were safe, or anything!"

Tony waves her off. "I know what you meant."

She smiles a little, but then it falls. She stands up, her hands awkwardly at her sides. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, and I don't want to pressure you or anything. I'll just…I'll grab my things and go home tonight, okay? And, I guess, just call me if this…if you still want to…"

Hari trails off, starts to walk back towards the bedroom.

He grabs her hand without thinking, holds it firmly but not enough to bruise. She looks at him, confused, a worry wrinkle upon her brow, and he takes a second to just take in the features of her face. She looks so earnest, and he might regret this later, might regret her, but he finds himself still willing to take a chance.

"I don't know if this is a deal breaker or not," he says. "It's a lot to take in, and it might be something that I can get used to. It might not. I'm going to ask a lot of questions, and I'm going to want to know everything about your magic and how it works. But I just…I don't…I want us to keep taking it slow and see where this goes. I don't want you to go yet."

She looks cautious, but hopeful. "What are you saying?" she asks quietly.

"Stay," he whispers. "Tonight, stay with me."

She smiles softly at him, elated. "Okay. If you're sure."

"I'm sure." His stomach growls. "Well, let's get that sandwich first."

Hari laughs, and it sounds a little choked, but that's okay. It's been a roller coaster of a night.

He entwines their fingers together, starts to lead her to the kitchen, but then he's whirling around, cupping her face with his free hand and firmly pressing their lips together. Hari lets out a small sound of surprise, but then she melts into the sudden embrace.

The kiss is soft, not those rushed, sexy ones from earlier, but somehow no less passionate. She fits just perfectly against him, like her body was made for his. He doesn't know when they stop, but his forehead is pressed against hers, their noses brushing, and it just feels so right.

He'll sort out everything else later.