Harry Potter had moved on.
He had left behind the ruins of the life others had tried to shape for him. No longer just the Boy Who Lived, no longer bound to the expectations of a world that had worshipped and used him in equal measure.
But the past had a habit of chasing him.
And today, it arrived in the form of Ginny Weasley.
Tony was not happy.
"You let who into my tower?" he snapped, arms crossed as he glared at Steve.
Steve sighed. "Her name's Ginny Weasley. She showed up demanding to see Harry. Said it was urgent."
"Yeah, urgent for her," Tony scoffed. "Jesus, Cap, what part of 'we don't just let random witches into my building' was unclear?"
Steve crossed his arms. "She's not just some random witch, Stark. She was important to him."
"Was being the key word," Loki drawled from the couch, sipping wine. "Oh, this is going to be delicious."
Bucky, who had been silent up until now, shifted slightly where he stood near the window. His jaw clenched, fingers tightening into a fist.
The metal one.
Tony noticed.
Loki definitely noticed.
And neither of them missed the way the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Because Death?
Death noticed too.
Harry had felt her the moment she stepped inside the Tower.
Magic, familiar and warm, laced with something desperate.
By the time she reached the common area, he was already waiting, arms crossed, glowing emerald eyes calm—but not welcoming.
Ginny stopped short at the sight of him. "Harry."
Harry inclined his head slightly. "Ginny."
She hesitated, taking a step forward. "I… I came to talk to you."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Her brown eyes flickered to the others in the room—Tony, Steve, Natasha, Loki, and—
Her gaze landed on Bucky.
She froze.
Bucky didn't move. Didn't blink.
But his eyes?
Cold. Icy steel.
And locked directly onto her.
Ginny swallowed, turning back to Harry. "Can we talk alone?"
A beat of silence.
Then—
"No."
Ginny blinked. "What?"
Harry's expression didn't change. "No," he repeated, voice steady. "You can say whatever you need to say here."
Ginny's lips pressed together. "Harry, please. I—" She exhaled, trying to compose herself. "I miss you."
The air shifted.
Loki hummed in amusement. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Harry, however, didn't react. "Is that so?" he asked, tone unreadable.
Ginny took another step forward. "Yes! I—look, I know things ended badly, but you left so suddenly. You didn't give us a chance—"
"A chance?" Harry repeated, voice as sharp as glass.
Ginny faltered. "I just—I thought that after everything, we could…" She trailed off. "Try again?"
The air in the room dropped.
Bucky moved.
It wasn't much—just a subtle shift forward, barely an inch—but the energy of it?
Lethal.
Predatory.
Ginny felt it.
Her breath hitched, goosebumps rising along her arms as she finally seemed to register the man standing next to Harry.
Tony clapped his hands together. "Alright! So, this has been super awkward, but I think we've all got better things to do—"
"Who is he?" Ginny interrupted, her gaze flicking toward Bucky.
Harry didn't hesitate. "Mine."
Silence.
Absolute.
Fucking.
Silence.
Loki smirked into his wine glass. "Oh, well said."
Ginny looked stunned. "Yours?"
Harry's gaze didn't waver. "Yes."
Bucky?
Bucky smirked.
And Death?
Death purred.
The air around them thickened, an invisible weight pressing against the room.
Ginny felt it.
A chill down her spine. An unnatural stillness that made her instincts scream.
But she wasn't stupid. She knew magic.
And she knew what she was feeling wasn't magic.
It was something else.
Something watching.
Something that did not like her.
"Harry," she tried again, voice softer now, pleading. "I still love you."
Bucky moved again.
This time, it wasn't subtle.
His vibranium arm flexed, and in one fluid motion, he stepped directly into Ginny's space, towering over her, his steel-blue eyes merciless.
"You need to leave," he said, voice calm.
But calm in the way a loaded gun was calm.
Ginny stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Bucky didn't blink. "You heard me."
Ginny turned back to Harry, frustration flaring. "You're really letting him talk to me like that?"
Harry's glowing emerald eyes flickered.
"You don't seem to understand, Ginny," he said, voice low. "You think you can come here and claim me. Like I'm something you lost, something you can get back."
Ginny's breath caught. "I—"
Harry's gaze darkened. "You do not claim me."
Ginny took a step back.
And that was when Death moved.
The shadows in the corners of the room shifted, something vast and unseen curling around Harry's shoulders, pressing against reality with a force that was neither alive nor dead.
Ginny felt it.
It was not magic.
It was not power.
It was Death.
Watching.
Waiting.
And it did not like her.
Ginny stumbled back, her hands shaking. "Harry—"
Harry tilted his head. "You're afraid."
Ginny swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "What—what is that?"
Loki chuckled darkly. "That, little witch, is what you should never have disturbed.*"
Bucky remained silent, but his hand twitched at his side, as if barely resisting the urge to act.
Ginny felt all of it. The weight of the room. The stare of something vast and endless. The presence of the soldier at Harry's side—lethal, unwavering, his.
And suddenly—
She understood.
Harry was not the boy she had once loved.
He was not something soft, something she could hold and mold into the life she had planned.
He was something else entirely.
And he did not belong to her.
Ginny's throat tightened. "I should go."
Harry inclined his head. "Yes. You should."
Ginny turned—quickly, desperately—needing to escape the crushing weight of whatever this was.
And Bucky?
Bucky watched her leave.
Expression unreadable.
Breath steady.
And absolutely satisfied.
The moment she was gone, Tony let out a loud sigh. "Well, that was tense."
Loki grinned. "Delightful, you mean."
Bucky turned to Harry, voice quiet but certain. "She won't come back."
Harry smirked. "I know."
Because Ginny Weasley had made a mistake.
She had come to claim him.
But Harry Stark was not something to be claimed.
He was something to be worshipped.