"I am not your consolation prize, Harry."

- When Harry Met Sally

January, 1943

Harry woke up spluttering, sitting suddenly upright, and desperately cold.

At first, she had no idea where she was. Somewhere cold, white, mountainous, with snow all around and still falling in thick flakes, and somewhere that was decidedly not anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds.

And then she remembered.

She'd apparated to Grindelwald, which turned out to be some mountainous knock off Disney princess castle or something. She'd entered, found him at his party, and—and he'd beat her in a duel, disarmed her and knocked her out.

Only, instead of a dungeon, she was outside again and there was no castle in sight.

She turned her head, looking around for it, only to pause.

There was something that was—not a castle.

Gray, stone, bricks were scattered around her. Some formed the shape of what may have, once, been walls but were otherwise littered all over the place like they'd been blasted apart from an epicenter.

And up above her was—was that the aurora? In the middle of the day? Had that even been here the night before? Harry didn't remember seeing it, but she hadn't exactly been looking either and—hadn't the Tom in her head said this was the Austrian Alps and not anywhere close to the Arctic Circle?

"Bloody hell," Harry said.

She looked down at herself, down at her hands which both held a wand. One was her own, the one Grindelwald had taken from her that she—somehow must have gotten back. The other was—she didn't know, she'd never seen this wand before or at least not up close.

Before she could get too distracted, though, she looked down next to her and—

"Oh, oh bloody hell!" Harry said, scrambling away from a passed-out Tom Riddle lying in the snow next to her.

What in the–

For a moment, she felt like she was in some absurd nightmare, because of course Tom Riddle was here because he was always here in these situations but–

What was he doing here? Was he here? Was this some sort of elaborate mind game where someone was disguised as Tom Riddle or her brain had made up a Tom Riddle or she'd somehow been kidnapped by fairies again.

She searched the ground desperately, looking for some sign of Grindelwald or his other guests, but so far as she could see it was only the teenage Tom Riddle next to her. She scrambled to her feet, holding her wand out in front of her, stuffing the other one into her sock.

"Revelio!" she cried out around them, turning in three-sixty degrees, but either there really was no one else here or they were using more sophisticated charms than her fifth year Hogwarts education had to counteract.

That felt very likely, actually.

"I have my wand back," Harry shouted to her possible enemies, "Somehow. And I'm not afraid to use it, again."

Not that it'd done her any good last time but—

There was no answer.

She didn't lower the wand, didn't dare, but it did strike her as a little funny that they'd give her back her wand and go—hide in the bushes. Voldemort hadn't always made sense either, but he'd never been this crazy, there usually was some rhyme and reason to his madness if you knew how to look at the right angle.

Maybe this was all a dream or illusion to make her confess—something.

What she'd even confess was beyond her, or why they'd stoop to this, since they could just give her veritaserum.

Then, slowly, she turned her head towards passed out Tom Riddle.

She shuffled backwards towards him, keeping her wand aimed at the rubble, then she glanced warily down at him. He didn't look worse for wear at all, his clothes were a little wet from the snow, but not stained or torn and he didn't even have any cuts.

It didn't look like he'd gotten into a fight.

But—

Had he somehow come here and stormed the castle, rescuing her like Princess Peach from Bowser, while she'd been busy being knocked out? And then—gave her her wand along with some other bloke's and then decided to call it good and take a nap with her in the middle of nowhere?

That didn't sound like him but—

"I'm warning you," Harry shouted, feeling like she was talking to no one, "I'm armed and dangerous! I've seriously injured four out of five defense professors! I made a basilisk explode once! It was very unpleasant!"

Nothing.

Well.

She lowered her wand and sat down next to Riddle.

He looked almost peaceful, peaceful, if very out of place. Even more than she was.

She poked at him, he didn't move.

Merlin, was he dead? No, he was definitely breathing but—

"Harry, focus," she reminded herself, so long as Riddle wasn't dead he wasn't her problem, "You came here for a reason!"

Right, she'd been here to beat up Grindelwald and take his whatsamacallit from him that the other Tom Riddle had said might have the power to propel her to the future. Yes. Then she could leave other Tom Riddle on this mountainside (and how the hell had he even gotten here when she hadn't even known where she was going?!) and go on her merry way back to 1996 where she belonged.

Right.

Except that Grindelwald wasn't anywhere and neither was his castle.

"No, no, you can do this Harry," Harry said to herself, she definitely hadn't bested Grindelwald in a duel which meant he was probably alive, and she could just apparate to him again and—do a better job beating him up next time.

She closed her eyes, concentrated, and—

It was like she hit a brick wall.

She felt her body trying to move through time and space, but the moment it went anywhere, it hit against something large, dark, and foreboding.

Had he blocked her somehow?

Maybe he was hiding somewhere with the fidelius charm like Sirius. Harry had never tried to apparate to Grimmauld Place, had never tried period, but that was supposed to be the most protective charm in the world.

Except, wouldn't he have had that charm on the castle then? It'd be a bit problematic if anyone could just apparate inside however they pleased.

"Huh," Harry said slowly.

Slowly, unwillingly, her mind turned to the last time something like this had happened.

The Chamber of Secrets, with the basilisk, where she'd gone and slipped and—must have hit her head and passed out. The next thing she knew, the basilisk was fried. There were no fried bodies this time, thank Merlin for that, but—she had been stunned, knocked out, and suddenly found herself in a much better position than she thought she'd be in.

And this wouldn't be the first time that Harry Potter had unintentionally blown up a dark lord.

And his castle.

And his magical whatsomacallit that could have gotten her home.

She looked around desperately for something shiny, something very magic looking. She even pulled the mysterious wand out of her sock.

It—looked like any old wand, maybe a little intimidating, but well cared for and carved with care like any wand from Ollivanders'. There was—a certain something, when she held it in her hand, a distant thrum like it was answering a question, but it didn't feel the same as her own wand had when she first touched it and it didn't feel all that powerful either.

She swished it and a small, not too impressive, light came out of its tip.

Well, seemed like it suited her well enough, but it didn't seem all that special either.

Even if it was her one souvenir from this place.

Well.

She crossed her legs, put the wand back into her sock with a sigh, and sniffed.

The wind howled, Tom shivered in his sleep, and there was no sign of any other soul.

She wondered if anyone would notice that Grindelwald was—maybe dead or seriously injured somewhere. Probably, he seemed important and evil. They'd have to notice if the guy terrorizing Europe didn't show up to his next appointment of terrorizing Europe.

She wasn't sure that was her problem, though, at least she didn't want it to be.

"Well," Harry said again to no one, "I guess I have to figure out what I'm going to do next."

Dump Riddle back at Hogwarts.

That one was obvious, and should be done as fast as possible, and—how had he even found her?! How had he even gotten here for that matter! They were in another bloody country! He shouldn't have been able to do that! Sure, she could do that, but he wasn't supposed to be able to do that.

Regardless, she dumped him back at Hogwarts.

Then—

She searched for some other time travel solution.

Somehow.

Yes, that was a good plan. A great plan. It hadn't worked out so far but that wasn't her fault.

Just as she was about to commence said plan, however, the universe decided to spite her.

There were several loud bangs from apparition, men in very sophisticated and old looking robes all shouting at one another in German or Austrian or something, and then pointing their wands straight at her and Riddle and yelling more angry things.

Harry held up her hands in self-defense, and after a flurry of more shouting, realized she was still holding her wand. She scrambled and stuffed it in her other sock, ducking several disarming spells, "Sorry, sorry, give me a minute, here!"

Only then did she realize that these were probably not the police but the second ring henchmen who hadn't been invited to the party. She dodged several dark hexes just in time, pulled out both wands, and with hers threw Riddle out of the way and the other—blew up her opponents.

And this wasn't Aunt Marge blowing up like a balloon.

No, they exploded.

Where a dozen men had been standing there was now only confetti, glittering confetti, that in the winter sunlight looked a bit like snow.

Harry had just— possibly murdered a dozen people.

By turning them into glitter.

"Undo!" Harry shouted, waving the new wand, "Uh, reverso! Oh my god, repairo!"

If there was a spell to unglitter her opponents, she didn't know it, and for once strength of will didn't seem to be working for her. None of them came springing back into existence. Not a single one of them.

Of course, it was the wizarding world. Wizards turned each other into frogs, pigs, cups, you name it all the time and it was easily reversed. Hagrid had turned Dudley's bottom into a pig's tail the first time they met and he'd only had an umbrella.

So they had to be able to come back. Didn't they?

She stared at the specks of glitter, now almost indistinguishable from the snow, and watched as a gust of wind dispersed them even further.

They weren't coming back.

"Oh my god," Harry repeated to herself.

And because God hated her, this was when Riddle started to come to. He groaned, rolled into a sitting position, and rubbed at his head.

Harry searched around them desperately. There was no more popping, not yet, but she just knew there would be soon. There was a giant, bloody, aurora borealis right over her head like a neon sign.

She tackled Riddle before he could sit upright, sending him sprawling back into the snow, "We've got to go! Hang on!"

He didn't have time to protest before she apparated them anywhere else, somewhere not right there, and somewhere that was warm, pleasant, not a crime scene, and—

Tom's head was killing him.

He was also in that daze that came with morning where you weren't quite sure where you were or even who you were quite yet. The pieces were slowly coming together, as they always did, but he'd admit that right now they were slower than usual.

Or maybe it was just that he couldn't remember how the hell he would have gotten from Hogwarts to what looked like a tropical beach.

And Harry Evans was standing up to her ankles in the blue ocean water, screaming like a madwoman.

He watched her, dazed, as she dragged her hands through her thick hair, pulled at it, then removed her shoes to throw them into the water. Then she pulled a wand out of her soaked sock, paler than hers and thinner as well, and hurled it into the sea.

"Harry," Tom said quietly, rubbing at his temples, but she didn't seem to hear him.

Instead, she was screaming louder as suddenly in her hand was the wand she'd thrown into the water.

She threw it again, further this time, watching as it fell into the calm water with a single "plop" only for it to reappear in her hand the moment it was out of sight.

She screamed louder and threw it again.

"Harry," Tom said, louder this time, but before he could watch the scene of Harry playing fetch with herself unfold a third time, he managed to collect himself and freeze her body with a spell.

Finally, both the screaming and the throwing stopped.

Thank God.

He slowly got to his feet, running a hand through his hair, and with a sigh took in his very tropical looking surroundings.

Well, it didn't look like Britain. It didn't even look like the south of France, the most exotic beach vacation that the young orphan Tom Riddle had ever been able to dream of before Hogwarts.

No, this was—this was some tropical paradise island like Hawaii or Fiji or who even knew where.

He'd—thought that Harry was off to chase Grindelwald. He supposed that she'd never announced as much, and he had just assumed for no particular reason, but it'd felt obvious. It still felt obvious, well—not so much now in the light of morning, or afternoon, or whatever time of day it was in this place, but he was still certain she'd been looking for Grindelwald when he left.

Unless she really did think Grindelwald was here.

He—supposed the divination must have worked.

Much better than expected.

He'd only expected to find where Harry was, to have some idea of her location, then have to do the hard work of transporting himself to her himself. He hadn't realized that divination could pull him all the way through time and space to her side.

That hadn't been in any of the books he'd read.

… Maybe he had the gift after all, and maybe it was absurdly powerful at that.

Though for all the talents in the world he could have, he'd have not chosen divination as one of them.

He walked up to where Harry was standing, removing his shoes and socks and placing them on the sand, and stared out at the sea with her.

"Well, Harry, I hope you're happy," he commented, not releasing her from the spell yet, "We're thousands of miles from Hogwarts, both of us are dropouts, and I have no idea where we are."

"It's the island vacation I've always wanted," he continued, hands now in his pockets, "You, me, the open sea, and the sun—my nemesis the sun, which has mocked me all my life."

Tom supposed he'd never thought about his skin one way or another, what he did know was that any amount of time in the sunlight did not provide him a tan, but instead turned him as red as a Soviet lobster.

God, he felt he was already burning.

With half a thought he charmed himself to prevent burning, a spell he'd learned sadly early in his career as a wizard. He paused then, recognizing that he'd just—well, he'd performed a lot of magic outside of Hogwarts' walls so far. But no one came for him, there were no aurors springing from the bushes or Hogwarts professors or anyone at all.

He was so far from Britain's borders that—no one was going to come for him.

For a moment he felt so very small, the world so very large that he was dwarfed by it.

He cleared his throat, looked back at the frozen Harry, whose mouth was still open in a truly ridiculous expression.

"Now, if I unfreeze you, are you going to calm down and be reasonable so we can discuss this, or are you going to keep throwing sticks at the ocean?"

She didn't answer, couldn't of course, but he gave her five seconds to mull it over just the same.

With a raised eyebrow, he released the spell, only for her to whirl on him, "Riddle!"

He immediately froze her again, "Reasonable discussion, Harry, we are having a reasonable discussion. Now, to beat you to the punch, yes, I followed you. Yes, we're both apparently dropping out of Hogwarts, and no, there's no getting rid of me."

He gave her a look, "Now, are you ready to talk?"

He gave her another five seconds then unfroze her, this time she was quicker on the draw than he was, and his wand went flying from his hand into the sand, "Don't even think about freezing me again!"

"I wasn't—"

"You were!" she accused, "And what do you mean there's no getting and—did you drop out of Hogwarts?"

"I don't know," Tom said casually as he moved to pick up his wand with a sniff, "Did you drop out of Hogwarts, Harry?"

"I—"

"You did, for the record," Tom said, "We both know you did, and you shouldn't even kid yourself let alone try to fool me. And if you're done with Hogwarts then so am I, that's what I've decided, at any rate."

Harry's face contorted several times throughout his little speech. Her mouth opening and closing, turning into an affronted grimace, an annoyed frown, a horrified gaping, and just about everything in between.

"Are you insane?!" Harry asked.

"Possibly," Tom said, "I'm not quite sure myself, honestly, ask me a few months ago and I'd have told you yes. For surely, no sane Tom Riddle would ever drop out of Hogwarts but—to be honest, I'm a little excited."

He wasn't lying.

True, he was annoyed, he was annoyed and before annoyance he'd been terrified for her and the trouble she'd get into. He vaguely remembered a door he wasn't meant to open, a desperate fear coursing through him, but it was blurry and felt more like a dream than anything else.

Now, though, that he knew she was safe and that he'd found her and wouldn't let her slip through his fingers, he felt himself wondering what would come next. Now that Hogwarts was behind him, apparently, there was a whole world out there.

It was large, yes, large and terrifying but—look at him now, on a tropical island, where else might he end up now that there was nothing to tie him down.

"No," Harry said.

"No?" Tom asked.

"No, no, you are not—you don't drop out of Hogwarts."

"What do you mean, I don't drop out of Hogwarts," Tom asked dully.

"I mean, that's—that's not how this goes. You graduate with—with honors or something, and you don't run off with me, and I—I will knock you out and put you back in school."

"I'd come back," Tom said with a shrug, "I found you once, I'm sure I can do it again."

Well, he wasn't quite sure how, but if taking a nap was all that was required then he could certainly do that.

… And he could certainly put a tracking spell on her when her back was turned.

"No, you—" she stopped mid sentence, looked at him with wild green eyes, hands paused mid gesture, then, carefully, as if almost afraid of something, she said, "Riddle, I'm being very serious. This—isn't how things are supposed to go and that's very very very bad. I've—really messed things up, especially you, and if you don't go back to the—Tom Riddle you were then the universe might explode."

The universe, their island surroundings at least, were perfectly tranquil and uninterrupted except for the occasional bird song.

Tom stared at her for a moment, then let out a single, "What?"

"It's true, I know it sounds utterly barmy, but it's true, mate," Harry said, "So you—forget all about the past three months and go back to school and I'll—not go back to school."

He stared at her for a moment, perfectly serious, then couldn't help his snort as he asked, "Did you really think that would work?"

Oh, Harry, she had gotten—desperate he supposed was the word for it. Well, it was true that any other argument such as him being too good for her, too Slytherin, too everything she'd already tried and failed at months ago. But the universe exploding, that was new.

Well done, Harry.

"Are you—you think I'm making this up?!"

"Harry," Tom said, "I know you think my sense of self-importance is larger than Hogwarts itself, and it is true that I do think I'm very important, but even I don't think the universe will explode, or collapse, or—be overrun by shrimp if I don't graduate from Hogwarts."

No, that was the trouble with their world, it didn't care one whit what Tom did or didn't do. He'd spent years screaming at it, trying to make it listen, and look where it'd gotten him. A first-class ticket to the Slug Club and nowhere else.

"Why would I make that up?!" Harry asked.

"Well, I don't know, Harry," Tom said, "Frankly, your life choices confound me at every turn. Why, a reasonable person would have just gone on to marry Alphard Black and his Black family fortune and thought nothing of it except that they'd somehow managed to attract the right man. Not that I don't personally appreciate your staunch refusal."

Tom supposed he couldn't quite relate, not being a woman, but were their roles reversed he certainly wouldn't have said no to Alphard Black's hand in marriage or the money. He'd hate himself, certainly, but that money…

Tom had lived with poverty all his life, he had no desire to keep living with it.

"I'm not going to marry anyone for money!" Harry said, looking more offended than when she'd started this conversation.

"Oh, I know, which is why you dropped out of school at the mere suggestion of it," Tom said, "My point was that I really don't understand you and I've stopped trying. Though, I suppose if we're throwing it out there, does that mean my utter lack of money is a bonus in this situation?"

Tom never thought it would be, he'd tried to hide it at every turn, but then he supposed that was why Harry Evans was a mystery to him and why only a few months ago he'd thought she was a fool.

"No! No!" Harry shouted, "No, Riddle, my point is—you are missing my point!"

"And what was that?" Tom asked.

"I—Am a time traveler!" she shouted the last bit only to immediately cover her mouth with her hands, stumble backwards into the water, and fall into it. She didn't say a word though, didn't remove her hands, and just looked at him with terrified eyes as he looked back at her.

Well.

He hadn't seen that coming.

Author's Note: Thanks to Vinelle for betaing the chapter. Thanks to readers and reviewers, reviews are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter