Chapter 29:

Double Date

After casting a quick Patronus message Harry followed Fleamont through the side door to find Lucius speaking amicably with a black-haired woman who didn't look a day over forty. But such was the nature of witches that they didn't start to look like Minerva until seventy, and only then with the stress of being a transfiguration professor and deputy headmistress.

"Mister Morrigan, allow me to formally introduce you to your main backer. Lucius Malfoy." His grandfather said, waving for them to come together.

Harry pushed forward and shook the man's hand. They shared a polite smile and Harry put aside all preconceived notions... for now.

"Ah. It's a pleasure to speak to you in person. My wife and in-laws alike speak highly of you." Said Lucius. "And from what I've seen so far, they are right to be impressed."

Harry waved away the compliment with his usual blushing smile.

"Oh, they're just feeding into the gossip about me. They exaggerate." Harry said.

Lucius raised an elegant eyebrow in that way Harry never could replicate - not that he ever practiced it, no - and refused to let Harry brush the compliment aside.

"Gossip you say? The same gossip claiming you defended a known Death Eater, verbally and physically?" Lucius clarified. "After hiring said Death Eater and his wife?"

Harry blanched. Lucius had him there.

"Wellllll. I more hired his wife than him. Figured she'd feel safer with her husband there." He explained. "I try to be unbiased, but I am biased towards people with a history of caring for werewolves, and who are protective of them. But try to be unbiased with everything else."

Lucius nodded appreciatively.

"And you have done an excellent job in both regards. Your neutrality has not gone unnoticed." Lucius said, before a cough from the woman beside him ended their current conversation. "Oh yes! Where are my manners. Allow ME to introduce you to Euphemia Potter."

Fleamont took over.

"I have invited Professor Morrigan to join Euphemia and I on our yearly trip to Florean's." His grandfather explained. "I have reserved at able, as one has to do in order to eat in person these days."

"Ah." Said Lucius. "Is it your anniversary again already?"

"Indeed." Said Euphemia. "Happens the same day, every year."

"As do many other events in many other people's lives that I can't keep track of and Narcissa fails to remind me of." Lucius barbed back. "Though I do wonder if I should take her for ours. I seem to recall it was the two of you who recommended I take her there when I was courting her."

Euphemia snorted derisively at Lucius' words.

"You?! Court her?!" She mocked with a high-pitched laugh that reminded Harry a bit too much of Bellatrix... the one from his world. "Right. That's how it happened."

Lucius sighed and turned to Harry.

"This is why Muggles are fortunate to not have their elders stay with them as long." He said. "Our ancient ones remember things. And stay with us well into their thousands, and we must suffer them reminding us of things we would rather forget."

"Until such time as age finally catches with us just assuredly as Muggles, and our minds go." Fleamont said. At which point I look forward to you reminding us of these bittersweet memories. But you need not worry, I have faith that our Lil will have raised us a glorious grandson by then to do the job."

Harry had to literally bite his lips together to keep a straight face during their back and forth. His temptation to mock Lucius for losing a dick-measuring contest with a woman, and several old woman jokes on Euphemia, were difficult demons to keep down but he somehow managed. Then, Euphemia turned on Hary.

"What say you, Professor?" She asked, with a hint of something behind her voice. Not daring, not joy, but maybe expectation? And not the kind he was used to. "Will our Lily counteract her... little problem and give us our long-awaited grandson?"

Harry stood there confused for a moment, before he remembered he was the world-famous - okay, only UK famous, but he'd be fixing that soon - divination professor and seer. Divinations like that on command were a bit beyond him, even if he weren't cutting himself off from Ghillie Dhu. It was time to work out his best charm, and not of the magical variety.

"You must be joking!" He said with an exaggerated snort. "To even ask me that is to insinuate you haven't even met Lily Potter... you have, haven't you?"

Euphemia smiled at him in that way classy women do, with every single perfectly white tooth in her mouth showing and dazzling him. Meanwhile, Fleamont gave him that infectious and inspiring wink again. Harry couldn't understand why, but that simple wink filled him with as much pride as the resurrection stone had when it had showed him his parents in the forest so many years ago.

"Well." Said Lucius, with a glance into space like he was considering a far-flung possibility. "I can't exactly fathom anybody with the audacity to insult Mrs. Potter's abilities. Our differences aside, that woman scares me, and should scare anybody who doubts her. But I must be getting home to an equally, well, almost equally intimidating woman who is currently on the warpath with her godfather and has forced me into picking up the pieces. Good day."

They all bowed their heads in an automatic gesture of goodbye and watched him walk to the far door where he exited the room. This left Harry alone with his grandparents, wondering where grandpappy Crabbe and Goyle, not to mention that beautiful Africana goddess and Garick had gone off to. He was nervous and uncomfortable enough to wish for either of them as backup... okay, maybe more Garrick than the others.

"So!" Said Fleamont, clapping his hands together like a miserly banker. "Ice cream?"

"Pistachio." Euphemia demanded.

Fleamont made a gagging motion with his finger and mouth.

"Matcha." Harry demanded in turn.

Fleamont made a gagging sound at that suggestion.

"How about the lavender honey flavor Florean has been experimenting with?" Fleamont offered as an alternative.

Harry and Euphemia looked at each other inquisitively, then turned back to Fleamont.

"That genuinely sounds delightful." Said Euphemia.

"Or at least interesting." Harry offered. "Has he been experimenting with any other unorthodox flavor combinations?" asked Harry.

"Does he ever spend his time doing anything else?" Fleamont defended. "We will find out when we get there, I'm sure."

With that, his grandmother took his grandfather by the arm and let Harry lead the way. He dutifully opened the door for them to exit and they walked the halls of Gringotts in comfortable silence. Their silence ended when they exited out into the noisy street of Diagon Alley.

Harry allowed himself to appreciate the fruits of his labor thus far. People, families, walked from store to store. People smiled. People talked. Stores were un-boarded and open for business. He couldn't take all the credit for the healing that this town had gone through. All he did was get the ball rolling.

They arrived at Florean to find Bellatrix already there. He must have interrupted her gym time because she had no makeup on and looked like she'd just worked up a sweat and only had time to towel off and change before apparating over.

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting." Fleamont said.

She curtsied politely and shook her head.

"I just arrived." She said. "And I already told Florean to prepare our table."

As if on cue, the now board free and properly open ice cream parlor door and out came the king of frozen dairy himself. He was dressed more extravagantly than he had in Harry's reality, but then again, he was also alive. It was shaping up to be a good day.

"Welcome. Your table is waiting. Enjoy yourselves and pay your tab before you leave." He waved them inside.

They entered the ice cream parlor to find it fully renovated. It now had two stories of private booths and the front counter seemed more set up for carry outs for people who wanted to buy the usual and eat outside or take their order home.

Florean walked them up the stairs and past already full booths. Harry loosened his grip on Ghillie Dhu to feel out the booths. Ignoring the cheer and disgust and all-around good time the occupants were having, the booths themselves were absolute bunkers. Layers of steel sheet metal with scaled iron covering both sides and separated by hazel wood filled the interior of each. The steel would block most projectiles, iron dissipates most magic, hazel wood absorbs magical residue from curses in particular. Florean had turned his parlor into the second safest place in the alley. Any fights breaking out amongst ideologues on either side of the war outside would cause little harm to those inside these booths.

Harry was sufficiently impressed.

"Here we are." Florean declared as they reached booth twenty-nine. "Order whatever you like, and it shall appear. You have privacy wards so you can be as rowdy as you like, just remember to pay your tab at the end."

With that, he excused himself and they all took their seats. At the end of the table, against the wall, was a sign.

Florean Fortescue is now teaming up with Bertie Bott's every flavored beans in our new promotional product, every flavored shots. Enjoy hundreds of flavors until you throw up, either from too much ice cream, or that one flavor you can't quite handle.

Now in optional alcoholic variety.

Harry looked up to find all three of his companions were sharing a frightened look with him and each-other. They all answered at once.

"Yes."

"Yes"

"Yes"

"Ab-so-lute-ly!"

Fleamont touched the plate at the center and spoke into it to order.

"Every-Flavored shots for four until we say stop." His grandfather ordered.

Four shot glasses appeared, each filled with a green ice cream. They each took their shot glass and brought it up to their noses. Harry couldn't smell a thing. Of course, they would make it scentless. Keep the surprise until they downed it. Only one thing to do.

All at once, they shotgunned their glasses of ice cream and leaned back to let the flavor sink in. Freshly cut grass. Not exactly delicious, but a giggle-worthy start and one that didn't make any of them gag. Actually, Harry could see himself eating an occasional grass-flavored bean. He'd order them when he got back to the castle.

"Round 2?" Fleamont declared.

On and on the shots came. Most of the time it was pretty regular ice cream flavors. Raspberry, coffee and plain old vanilla went down easy. But the real fun started when they had flavors they couldn't quite place. In the same way that a person familiar with pistachios would never be able to identify pistachio ice cream, spinach ice cream tasted nothing like spinach. They eventually gave up and a notecard at the center told them what it was. It wasn't terrible. The same thing happened with a positively disgusting pink ice cream that turned out to be salmon. They also got the classic ear wax and bile flavors between relatively normal lemon pepper and peanut butter flavors.

It was around the time they gagged on the wasabi-flavored ice cream that they realized Fleamont hadn't made a distinction on what type of ice-cream shots they were eating, as his evidently intoxicated grandmother was getting handsy with his grandfather and using his shoulder as a cheek scratcher. Bella seemed to be emboldened by the older woman's behavior and did the same to Harry. He did not complain.

Euphemea, on the other hand...

"Oh dear, I think we should change to non-alcoholic." Euphemia warned. "We don't want Bella to make any mistakes."

Harry snorted at the teasing from his elder but raised an eyebrow at the now enraged woman on his shoulder. He had let Ghillie Dhu slip.

"Not after what happened with your ex." His grandmother finished. "You seem to actually like this one. So, no foolishness."

Bella retreated from his shoulder and sat up straight, stiff and cut off.

"...Rodolphus?" Harry clarified.

His grandparents both looked at him strangely.

"No, son." Fleamont corrected. "The... other one."

By now Euphemea was glaring back at Bellatrix.

"I think, it may be high time for you to consider having an open and honest conversation with this young man." His grandmother said.

"Well, I think it's time for you to consider making vociferous use of a morning star as a marital aid!" Bella snapped back.

They all went silent and Bella's vicious retort. Fleamont was the first to snort, then their drunken laughter all came at once.

"You know, initially my mind went straight to the matricidal interpretation of your comment." Fleamont said. "Then my mind went to the... cruder interpretation."

Bellatrix sunk into a deeply depressed facepalm at his explanation.

"My mind went straight to the crude one." Harry admitted cheerfully. "But that's because I'm young and hormonal."

Bellatrix sunk further into her facepalm.

"I promise, I meant the former." She pleaded. "I promise I intended it to be a scathing matricidal joke. Which is a topic of conversation that I have been assured is appropriate for a double date."

Harry had to think on this.

"Assured by whom? The Tonks family or the darker company you once kept?" He asked.

She stilled and slowly removed her head from her hands to give him a hard, inquisitive look.

"You know what?" She asked rhetorically. "I can't even tell anymore, parsing the different flavors of silly and dark humor is beyond my abilities. They're all a lot more similar than they like to think."

From experience with both sides of the war - both before and after the war - Harry could relate.

The date eventually came to a close and Harry found himself walking Bella home. They had taken the long path, through the Leaky Cauldron and streets of London. They walked for almost an hour, arm-in-arm and head on shoulder, until they neared and passed a familiar street. Two blocks from Grimmauld place Bella unlatched herself from Harry.

"This is me." She said as she approached there.

She opened the door and stepped inside, turning around to lean against the door pane and talk to him more.

"You're not even going to ask?" she clarified.

"About what my nosy... companions tried to reveal?" He clarified.

"Yes." She said.

"Do you want me to ask?" He asked.

"I want you to want to ask." She explained.

Unlike most things with women, that made perfect sense.

"Okay. Who was your ex?" He asked.

She hardened her facial expression and took a deep breath through her nose.

"An old mentor of mine and friend of the family." She explained. "A man by the name of Tom Riddle."

Harry let the information sink in. Then he allowed his memories of the Bellatrix of his old world and her obsession with the obviously a-sexual creature who never reciprocated her obvious madness-induced lust. From what he'd seen of the man in this world, he seemed to have an intact body. Not that he'd checked for testicles.

"You dated Voldemort?" Harry clarified. "Was he aware that it was dating?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I did not date Tom Riddle." She clarified. "I fucked Tom Riddle."

Harry could only back away in surprise at the venom she used to accentuate the foul language.

"Seduced, is a better word for it." She added. "Plied him with alcohol at my aunt Walburga's party and coaxed the absurdly handsome, charming and powerful man out of his clothes. Like many other young girls tried and failed to do before me. But I succeeded, despite being married to a man that worshipped the ground I walked on. Neither of them ever forgave me for it, and worse, Tom tried to make something more of it, which hurt all the more. For all three of us."

She looked like she wanted to say more. Perhaps about the destruction of her marriage and death of her husband. But she didn't go on.

"Which is why I'm not inviting you inside tonight, despite wishing to. Goodnight, Hadrian." She said to dismiss him.

She did not close the door nor break eye contact with him as she said this. And Harry noted the distinct contradiction of her body language and her words. The way she wrapped herself against the doorframe, one leg rubbing the other and come-hither eyes. She was daring him to change her mind. She wanted him to change her mind. Or would it be better put, that she wanted him to want to change her mind?

"Goodnight, Bella." Harry said, before turning around and walking away.

She closed the door roughly behind him but didn't quite slam it. He didn't let himself get caught up in thoughts of her displeasure and frustration at him letting her go for that night. He wasn't interested in anything more that evening and refused to allow any woman the excuse of alcohol - on either of their parts - to excuse away romantic decisions they both knew were genuine at the time.

And so, he walked along, to the end of the street planning to call on the knight bus for a safe, and absurdly fun while drunk, ride home. He paused as he passed an elderly homeless man in ragged clothes. He sat at a bench, staring intently at Bella's apartment building. An entire twelve pack of beer sat at his side and he he held one bottle in his hand. Harry would have simply kept walking past him were it not for his scar tingling ever so slightly.

He stopped in front of the man. To test his suspicion, he turned away from the man then turned back. He repeated this action twice. Tingle. No tingle. Tingle. No Tingle.

"Good evening, Tom." Harry greeted with slurred speech.

"Good evening, Hadrian." Voldemort greeted with slurred speech, dropping his glamour as he did so.

Harry gripped his wand tightly at the sight of the lightly greyed man and his seemingly impossibly handsome features.

"Oh, put that away!" He scolded. "We're both too far into drunkenness to manage a fight tonight. We'd both stumble pathetically and do more injury to ourselves than each other and by the end of it both retreat in humiliation."

Harry snorted humorlessly at the mental image of them doing exactly that. He conceded and took a seat beside his nemesis.

"Rough day?" Harry asked, noting the black eye Voldemort probably didn't mean to cancel the glamour on.

"Weird one, certainly." Tom admitted, offering Harry the last beer, which he refused.

"Mine too. Weird, but pleasant." Harry offered.

"In my case, weird and... introspective." Tom offered back.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me about it?" Harry asked. "In my experience, enemies make better confidants, they don't gossip to your friends and loved ones."

"Oh, so you are my enemy after all?" Tom clarified. "There seems to be a bit of confusion in that department."

Harry grinned maliciously as they both stared off at Bellatrix' apartment.

"But alright. I decided to confront my ex today because I found out she was dating a man almost twenty years her junior." Tom said. "She seemed to be under the impression that I hired a hit squad to murder said man and promptly gave me my second black eye in as many weeks - by the way, Black family women know how to throw a spec-tacular jab. You have been warned."

Harry nodded studiously at the new information.

"Then I made a quick visit to the bank to find out all of my investments had greatly improved, along with every other account in the country." Voldemort went on, "And a quick walk down Diagon Alley showed all of my economic warfare against this corrupt nation had come to naught and been undone by a single individual."

"I don't deserve that much credit." Harry countered.

"Yes, actually. You do." Voldemort said. "Your tactics, rooted in an understanding of human nature and the power of social interactions are beyond anything I have ever seen or contemplated. And you have done more to fix the issues in the magical government and society at large that has united me with fellow... malcontents, than my out and out war ever has."

Harry let his jaw drop at that admission.

"And so I had to sit and think, drinking through two packs of beer throughout the day, on whether our war was even worth it all this time." Tom confessed. "A war I was chosen for by people left unheard and oppressed by a legislative body that chose the interests of outside groups over their own constituents, who watched helplessly as their culture was thrown away and the British occupied their land, as the British have a history of doing."

Harry nodded with every word. Even in his own timeline, Tom Riddle had been pushed into leadership by his Death Eaters at first. He had wanted the peaceful, quiet life of a hermit immortal. Then became addicted to war. Destroyed by it, even more than he already was by his own fucked-uppedness.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Even before your arrival." Tom went on. "And now that I have a rival, in both love and war, that can actually challenge me. I am weirdly elated, and melancholy."

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "Can't he challenge you in war at least?"

"No." Voldemort said. "He never has. In many ways he helped my effort, feeding the most horrendous of bigots on his side of the conflict to suicide missions against me. He is a very cruel man to those he perceives as evil. His perception is always correct, but still. For a man who claims he believes in second chances he can be rather brutal."

This was news to Harry and he made a mental note to check on this information. He knew full well about the more twisted vigilantes, terrorists and serial killers on both the ministry and anti-Voldemort side. They just never got referred to as such in the history books, and Voldemort tended to make short work of them. It would make sense for Dumbledore to invest a similar amount of effort into combating them as he had the worst amongst Voldemort and would explain why there were so few bad actors on his side by the start of the second war in his timeline.

"There's also the small matter of the fact he's dying." Voldemort went on. "Why the fool would be stupid enough to try and put on my horcrux is beyond me."

Harry stared at the man beside him.

"Wow." Was all Harry could say. "You just casually throw out your greatest secret like that to strangers?"

"Stranger? Please!" Voldemort scoffed. "I am working from the assumption that you know absolutely everything. About my upcoming plans, and my horcruxes, like... how many there are."

Six.

"What they are." tom continued.

Diary, Resurrection Stone, Rowena's Diadem, Slytherin's Locket, Helga's Cup, Nagini.

"What the hell is a Nagini?" Voldemort asked in confusion.

Harry stared at him. He was positive he wasn't thinking out loud that time.

"You have very loud thoughts. I cannot help perceiving them even when not trying to probe your mind." Voldemort told him. "I don't always have the best control of it. But it matters little. I have already arranged for them to be moved and they shall soon be reincorporated into me, as the... wait, resurrection stone?"

"Uh, yeah. The Gaunt family ring? That was the resurrection stone of legend." Harry confirmed.

"From the Tale of the Three Brothers?" He clarified.

"The very same." Harry confirmed.

"... Is that why..."

"Yes. That is why Albus put the damn thing on." Harry confirmed pre-emptively.

They sat there in silence for a moment.

"That fucking moron!" Voldemort said.

"I know!"

Voldemort rubbed his eyes with his free hand. The sheer stupidity of such an action by a man he respected that much must be bringing on an early hangover headache.

"Does it even work?" Tom asked.

Harry let his grin return, knowing full well the megalomaniac was regretting not making use of such a powerful artifact.

"Yes and no." Harry explained.

"Please, do not explain further. I am too far gone to have a conversation on advanced magical theory and how an enchanted object might get around the laws preventing the dead from being brought back from beyond." Tom pleaded. "If I wanted to have that conversation, I'd go visit... other assholes."

Voldemort stood up on unsteady legs and stretched, making ready to go.

"You should know she lied to you." He said, sighing in relief. "About our past together. There at the door a few minutes ago? But I won't say anymore. You probably won't believe me. I wouldn't in your place."

He began walking away.

"Good night, Professor Morrigan. I will most likely kill you next time we see each-other." He said casually.

He stopped a few paces away.

"I do have one question I would like you to answer honestly." Tom pre-empted. "It has been haunting me for a while now."

Harry shrugged.

"Shoot."

"Are you, in fact... my time-traveling son from the future." He asked.

Harry stared at Voldemort. Voldemort stared back. Harry stared some more.

He then burst out in laughter. So uncontrollable was his laughter that he had to answer between fits of trying to catch his breath.

"Where... in the WORLD... did you get that idea?!" Harry asked.

Voldemort took this as a heartfelt denial and began chuckling with him.

"Dumbledore shared it with me, thinking you and I were conspiring together." Tom explained. "So... you're NOT some Oedipus-complex freak of my loins trying to seduce your mother in that apartment over there?"

"No!" Harry denied venomously.

"Well, that's a load off my mind. I now have even fewer reservations in ripping out your still beating heart and shoving it down your throat next time we meet." Voldemort threatened.

"Yeah, careful about the oncoming traffic you're about to walk into. Hate for you to get pureed by the knight bus and save me the trouble." Harry countered.

And with that, they both apparated away.

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