I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.

Upon recovering his body, what is the first thing Voldemort does? Summon the Death Eaters and try to kill Harry? No. He hasn't eaten in 13 years. He drags Harry to a 24-hour diner and makes him pay (the bill.)

-0-0-0-

"Cookie, I'm telling you! There's something not right about them two." The waitress stared at the two new customers that just walked in.

The cook looked through the serving window. "Come off it, leave them alone. They're just two blokes looking for a bite to eat late at night."

"They look really weird and neither of them look happy." It was true. The tall man was dressed in what looked like a very fancy black bathrobe. He did not have a hair on his head and did not have a nose. The young man was disheveled and drenched in sweat, his clothes ripped and torn. The two kept glaring at each other with obvious distaste.

"Well let's serve them up some decent food and make them happy," cookie said confidently.

"I don't think food will fix whatever's going on with them," she said nervously.

-0-

Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord, and other odd titles, looked down at the brightly colored menu. "What in Merlin's name are pancakes?"

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and proclaimed nemesis of one Lord Voldemort, glared at the pale wizard. "It's an American thing."

"Americans eat cake for breakfast?"

"Some do."

Voldemort sneered. "Sounds decadent and fattening."

"You could use some fattening," Harry said snidely. "You look like a twig wrapped in a handkerchief."

"Manners, Potter." Voldemort said severely.

"I'm so sorry, where are my manners? Oh I know, they bled out with my blood. You remember, when your little buddy cut me and bled me for you?" Harry's voice was scathing.

Voldemort sighed. "He was a bit clumsy wasn't he?"

"You think?"

The waitress approached, plastering on a fake smile. "What can I get you gents?"

Voldemort glared at the menu. "There are far too many choices."

Harry sighed. "He'll have pancakes and sausages. How do you like your eggs?"

"I don't like eggs."

"He'll have them scrambled. I'll have a full English please."

"Bacon, sausage, or black pudding?"

"Yes, all three please. Thank you."

Voldemort waited for the woman to leave. "That's a bit much, don't you think?"

"It might be my last meal so I'm going to make the most of it. I still can't believe we're in a bloody diner."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Does everyone your age curse like a sailor on shore leave now?"

"Only when it fits the occasion. Like right now. Also you can stop squinting at me. What are we even doing here?"

"I thought it would be polite to offer you a last meal before your inevitable demise." Voldemort flushed when his stomach growled audibly.

"Yeah, that and you were hungry." Harry sighed. "Just my luck. I got roped into this dumbass tournament, fight for my life with three increasingly dumbass tasks, get my blood taken by the one that betrayed my parents, and you get resurrected."

"Is this a bad time to mention I have no money?"

"And I'm paying for it. Great." He glared at Voldemort. "You're a terrible Dark Lord, you know that?"

"For someone called the Boy-Who-Lived, you like to throw yourself into dangerous situations," Voldemort retorted.

"Situations that you cause!"

The waitress returned with their food. Feeling the tense atmosphere, she deposited the plates and fled swiftly and professionally.

Voldemort looked at his pancakes with trepidation before cutting off a modest bite. He bit down, holding the bite in his mouth.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"I haven't eaten in almost 15 years," Voldemort said, muffled. "I'm trying to get used to it again."

"You might want to try chewing," Harry snarked. He demonstrated, chewing with exaggerated motions.

Voldemort did and his sneer disappeared. He swallowed and looked down at his plate with surprise. "This is rather delightful."

"Pour some syrup on them," Harry suggested.

The Dark Lord did and he actually smiled as he ate the sticky syrupy sweet pancakes.

"You know, when you do that, you almost look normal," Harry said, slightly disturbed that Voldemort was eating and smiling like a person.

"What have I missed in my quest for power," Voldemort mused.

"A lot I reckon."

He snorted. "You know, there was a time where I would kill a person for being so rude to me."

"What's stopping you?"

"These." The wizard gestured to his plate. "You should thank Merlin I am sparing you for the moment."

"Thank God and Merlin for pancakes," Harry said piously.

They lapsed into silence as they ate. Eventually the plates were clears and Voldemort even ate the scrambled eggs. Harry paid for the meal and the two sat and stared at each other. "So what now?" Harry asked.

"What indeed?" Voldemort hesitated. "I find myself reluctant in wanting to kill you now."

"Seriously? After all this time, you're reluctant now? What gives?"

"Are you really complaining?"

"I'm fucking livid and I think I deserve some answers."

Voldemort snorted. "Perhaps it was a mistake in using your blood. I feel a kinship to you. Everything seems rather...extraneous now. Plus you did pay for the meal and introduce the beauty that is pancakes. I might be in your debt."

Harry snorted too. "So that's it then? Let's call it even? Sorry I killed your parents and all those people and I want to stop being a dark wanker because of pancakes?"

"Listen, you spend 14 plus years as a disembodied spirit possessing arrogant idiots and surviving on snake milk and waited on by incompetent morons. It gives you some perspective. I could continue to wage my war against you and Dumbledore, try to take over Britain for some fool reason. Or I can take this second life as a gift and do something else, something nicer with less irritation." He looked at the kitchen wistfully. "Something with pancakes."

Harry rubbed his neck. "Fine, you want to call it quits, we can do that. But you owe me."

"I'll tell you each and every one of the surviving Death Eaters and their secrets. I'll tell you where to find the bodies of all the people that were murdered. I give you almost all the gold I've acquired and artifacts and books on magic. I'll even tell you all the secrets I know about high ranking officials including Dumbledore. In return, we call it quits. Is that a deal?"

Harry hesitated. "You won't try to kill me anymore? You won't try to hurt my friends? You apologize and show remorse for all you've done?"

Tom nodded. "Yes to all of that. I just want to live and find more tasty things to eat."

Harry took the offer and the chance. "We got a deal then Voldemort."

"Call me Tom. Now, what else tastes good?"