Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter in any way. I'm just borrowing Harry and Dudley for a little while. please don't sue me.

Thanks a bundle to David and Jessie for catching anything I wrongfully write.

The gentleman, dressed meticulously in a fine grey suit, spoke to their waitress with a beautiful accent whose origin could not be placed. He must be foreign, to any outside observer; from some land of riches, far, far away. He wore a gold emblem ring on his pointer finger, and his eyes sparkled like gems, as if he had been born of treasure, and exotic splendor. His skin was pale and weathered. His hair was cut just above his ears in an untamed mess, as if he had been in the wind for a very long time. He placed his hand upon the waitress's arm, smiled a lopsided smile, and ordered his coffee black with a dash of cinnamon, before returning to his partner, whose open mouth accompanied his blank stare.

The man carefully removed what appeared to be a stick from his suit sleeve, tapped it once, and returned it to its place. His partner eyed the move with distaste, but attempted a cool facade. Orders were placed before the two, the man thanking the waitress again. Finally, he spoke.

"You might swallow flies with your mouth open like that, Dudders. Careful now." His voice was familiar now, and didn't sound foreign. His partner could have laughed had he thought it was a prank, yet somehow he knew otherwise. The man before him, despite his banter, was entirely serious with everything he did, and his feigned accent was no exception.

"Where've you been, then? I don't suppose there's a magical university now, is there?" His partner dug into his plate, stuffing his face until nothing more would fit. The man watched in amusement, but his face was as blank as stone.

"I thought you didn't hate magic anymore." The man stated, stirring his drink lightly. Steam rose in swirls before his face.

"I don't." Said his partner, gulping down his mouthful. He already had sauce on the edge of his face. "I only hated it when I was a kid."

"Did you?" He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "humph. I could have thought otherwise."

"I only ever hated it because of Mum and Dad, honestly."

The man nodded in acceptance and took a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes as he did so. The motion added decades to his face. He paused.

"How is Aunt Petunia?" He placed his cup carefully down on the table. "Is she well?"

"She's good. She's still on Privet Drive, cleaning everything. She goes to every one of my boxing matches."

The man nodded. His gem eyes darted behind his partner and followed something for a moment, before finally resting upon his partner once more.

"You're different. You're not scrawny anymore." His partner tried to laugh at the comment, but it didn't quite work.

"You're different too. I suppose. I mean-" His eloquence was lost in his fumble. "You look good. Keeping in shape Dudley?"

"No, just not being spoiled." The gentleman raised an eyebrow, to which Dudley laughed. "You could at least pretend to believe me."

"I could. I don't want to. I can never imagine you a humble, non-materialistic person. No offense."

"None taken." He took another bite of his food. "But, you're not this little kid anymore either. I feel like if I tried to punch you I would end up in an alley way with no memory of how I got there."

"Should I be flattered, or offended?" His eyes twinkled.

"You talk odd too. Formal. When'd you learn to talk like that?"

"I'm expected to act dignified." His ambiguous answer was all that was necessary to stump his companion. "Anyway, you're still boxing? How is that? You always had a knack for good upper-cuts."

"My hook's coming along too. I made nationals in my division last season. You wouldn't believe what some of these blokes look like. It's like a lion mauled their face. At least I don't look half bad. But yeah, I'm working on it. And if boxing doesn't work out, Dad's got me working at Grunning's, so I can fall back on that."

"He's still there, is he?"

"Grunning's? Yep, CEO, the whole package. He got a big enough bonus last year to take me and Mum to Aruba for a month."

"That sounds nice." The man did not seem at all interested in the topic, to which his companion noticed. He quickly changed the topic, though not before taking another bite of his meal.

"What are you doing then, if you're not in school or anything? Your not... I dunno, a magical billionaire, are you? I don't know how any of that works."

"I've my assets. But no, not a billionaire. I actually work for my friend's brother's prank shop. It's a very interesting place."

Dudley snorted; the action reminded the gentleman of an event long ago. His emerald eyes twinkled. "Does that pay well? I mean, a prank shop doesn't sound too successful..."

"I don't need much. It's entertaining. And I gave the owners the funds to start the shop in the first place, so I should naturally have a part in it."

"You invested in a prank shop? What, did you just want to throw away your money?"

"Yes, I did. but the shop has earned approximately half a million pounds since last August."

"...Your joking."

"I'm not." The man folded a napkin, and patted it gently on his mouth, ever so robotically that outsiders would wonder where he had learned his etiquette. He spoke again. "Dudley, remember your smelting stick?"

"Of course I do." The fond memory sparked his curiosity. He leaned in closer.

"Well, imagine having one of those, but every time you hit someone, their hair changes color, without them knowing. Would you buy one?"

"You make one of those?" Dudley looked more interesting than anyone had ever seen him, leaning forward at his cousin, his eyes wide. "You actually make them?"

"I don't make them personally, but it was my idea. Based off of your stick. The owner designed it. Kids love them. We sold out of them in a week."

"Its funny, you being a business man." Dudley caught himself, and explained. "I mean, Dad never thought to have you help at Grunning's. But then you make half a mil. You should be an inspirational speaker, or something."

"No, thank you." Harry said, with a hint of disgust. He eyed the patrons on the restaurant wearily. "I don't take well to the public."

Dudley snickered. "Aren't you a celebrity?"

Harry nodded once more, bowing his head. It reminded Dudley of the monks he had seen on a variety show, who humbly accepted anything someone said with a nod. It was odd to see his cousin do the same, but he supposed he was humble. Then a thought came to him.

"Maybe I should go into the prank business. That would be fun. You could endorse me."

"... Stick with boxing for now. It seems to be your forte'." polite but vague. He was well trained.

"Yeah, I think so too." Dudley looked down at his plate, helped himself once more, then eyed his companion, who appeared perfectly content with a light sip of his coffee. "Harry?"

The man looked up, his face set at the acknowledgment of his name by someone who had yet to say it. His eyebrows were arched gracefully, but something sharp seemed to jump in his eyes.

"Yes, Dudley?"

"Where did you go? After we left, I mean, you never told us where you were going..."

"I-" He cut himself off, remembering the last time he had seem his cousin, and the events that followed. He bit his lip, and spoke. "I went many places."

"Yes, but where? You left right after we did. Where did you go?"

"To a secure location." He said, resisting the urge to grit his teeth in anger. The plan had not succeeded, and in the mere effort to remove him from Privet Drive, he did not want to remember the consequences. "To a place where he couldn't find me."

"Voldemort, you mean?" Harry looked faintly impressed.

"You learned his name."

"I asked Mum. She knew much more about it then she ever let on."

"I thought she would. Yeah... Voldemort."

"What happened to him? You... well, you were supposed to get rid of him."

"Was I? I didn't think I'd told you that much."

"You did. You told us that you had to kill him, before he kills you, and everything is evil, and we could die... You must've gotten rid of him. We were allowed back to the house." The gentleman bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Is he dead?"

He bowed his head once more, this time pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You killed him?" His companion whispered. His eyes were wide with surprise.

Harry looked up."You don't have to whisper. The spell I cast is to prevent anyone from hearing our conversation."

"You killed him?" Dudley repeated, this time slightly louder than before.

"You could say that."

"You killed him!" Dudley dropped his fork, his mouth now agape with half-chewed food.

"I- yes, I killed him. Not how you think though-" The gentleman look slightly alarmed, and a flush appeared on his pale face.

"You killed someone! You killed a bloke! Wasn't he really powerful? Blimey! You killed... Not going to lie, its a bit scary, really.."

"Your telling me. Yes! I killed him!" his exasperation seem to bring his companion back to reality.

"Blimey, Harry... to think I beat you up all those times, and you could've just snuffed me, right there-"

"I didn't kill him for no reason, just flat out, he killed me first!"

"...What?"

"He killed...He killed me first. Its a really, really long story. He killed me, and he was going to kill all of... of my school, of my 'lot'. I had to do it."

"How are you alive if he killed you!"

"It's a really, really long story."

"We have time, don't we? I have to be somewhere at four. We've got time!"

"We've got five minutes. It would take far longer than that. And you say you want to hear it as if I'm some action hero from those movies you always watched." Harry sighed and rested his head in his hand. "I killed him. Just leave it at that, please?"

"...What did it feel like to die?"

"Are you really asking me that?"

"yeah, Why not?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Of course you don't." Harry arched his brows in confusion. "Not that I don't believe that. It just figures. The one person who's died can't tell you how it is."

"My apologies. It wasn't the most pleasant thing to go through." He said sardonically. His eyes were piercing and cold. " That wasn't the reason I asked you here, so if you don't mind..."

"Sorry."

Harry waved his hand in acceptance, bowed his head once more, and continued, again in his formal manner."I wanted to extend an invitation to you, and I thought it improper to simply send it, when I haven't seen you in so long."

"An invitation? For what?"

"For..." He reached into his pocket, and removed a cream colored envelope, sealed with golden wax. "Here. An invitation to the wedding of Ginerva Molly Weasley and Harry James Potter."

Dudley's eyes shot towards Harry's in surprise. He grabbed the envelope.

"You're getting married?" Harry nodded, though there wasn't any sign of happiness in his visage. Dudley smoothed out the invitation and read it through quickly. "Well... Congratulations."

"Thank you." He said, without much enthusiasm. "Do you think you can make it?"

"Its in the summer. I don't do anything in the summer. Sure. I'll be there."

"Good." He looked down at his cup, and the little content that remained. "And, of course, I will provide transportation for you, since the location is magical, usually untouched by mu-...non-magic people...oh, and Aunt Petunia is invited as well, if she's willing to attend."

"What about Dad?"

Harry's eyes shifted.

"What about him?"

"Is he invited? He is family, after all..."

"If he wants to go, that's up to him. If he causes trouble, I'd rather avoid seeing him all together. I don't see him as someone who would want to attend a traditional wizard wedding, at the school he always hated me attending."

"Its at Hogw...w... err-"

"Hogwarts? Yes. The headmistress thought it would be fitting. You'll enjoy it there, I think."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. I'll pass it along to Mum." He pocketed the paper, took one last bite of his meal, and rose. "I hate to just leave like this, but I promised Lisa that I would pick her up after her seminar."

"Who's Lisa?"

"My girlfriend.' Harry raised his eyebrow. "We've only been dating a few months, so don't expect a wedding invitation from us any time soon. But maybe, in a year or two if it works out... anyway, thanks for the food." He tugged his jacket on.

"Dudley." Harry was on his feet too. "I wanted to ask you something-"

"Shoot."

"Well, I know we were never close as far as cousins go, So, I know this is odd..."

"Bloody hell, you're not proposing to me too, are you?"

"No! No, I'm... will you be one of my groomsmen?"

"What?"

"You can say no. I just thought it would be nice... family, you know..." He looked embarrassed at his words. Dudley smiled and shrugged.

"Sure."

"You'll do it?" His eyes sparkled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean, your my cousin. We grew up together."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"To me it does. I would be honored to be your groomsman." He stuck out his hand, which Harry shook gratefully. "But you'll need to fill me in on any weird traditions you guys have, yeah?"

Harry smiled. "Dudley, even I don't know the first thing about wizard traditions. I grew up with you, remember?"

The two men smiled, and parted. The foreign gentleman sat back in his chair, taking a last sip of his coffee. As he did so, he again tapped his odd stick against the table. He raised his hand, and the waitress made her way towards him.

"I vill haf the check now, please?" He said, in his foreign way. The woman obliged. As he handed her his payment, no one but he noticed the men in odd clothing who seemed to eye him curiously from across the cafe. "Sank you for de service." He said loudly, in his slanted tongue. "It vas most vonderful."

The strange men, having heard his voice, now went back to their food, for Harry Potter, their savior, was not a foreign man, nor did he wear a grey suit. This man did not appear to have a scar, but if so his hair hid it. they couldn't be sure, as he avoided the public so often, but no, this man could not be the celebrity they wanted so badly to praise.

Harry stepped out into the sunlight through the window lined front, squinted down the street, and smiled. He had forgotten how wonderful it was to be just another muggle. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, strolled down an alley, and with a small pop, he was gone.

This is the first chapter in a mini-series regarding Harry and Ginny's wedding, minus the typical mushy romance love love stuff. If you would like me to continue, please review!