Harry would never manage to understand women.

 It was a fact he’d came to terms with long ago –perhaps even when he was fourteen, and he and Ron had simply found themselves unable to understand the mechanics of a female brain. Or, as his best mate put it, why they were so bloody mental. What Harry had never expected, nor could have anticipated, was that this fact became even more true when women got pregnant: Ginny was in a state where she was begging for odd foods half of the time, and whining the other half until she got her way. Even after two previous pregnancies, Harry was certain he’d never get used to it. Especially not when she decided he’d be volunteering to host a Speed Dating Event for some charity or another. While it might be for a good cause, he simply did not relish the idea of putting the entire thing together. And much less was he looking forward to tonight: tonight was the night, tonight the event would happen and either be a success or an epic failure, and tonight he would be one of the people involved in making it so. Talk about pressure.

And as if to continue to prove that women were somewhat mental, Berkeley Cavanaugh had been constantly worrying about her cousin. Of course, Xavier Tawse was not known for being the easiest of teenagers –Harry shivered and had nightmares about one of his own kids becoming the rotten apple that kid was. It had been with a sigh of decisiveness that he had informed her that the Speed Dating weekend happened to be set for a Hogsmeade Weekend, and that he could potentially take the chance to speak with Xavier. He’d half hoped Cavanaugh wouldn’t accept. But he’d forgotten the primal rule of how crazy witches could be. Not only had she allowed him to take the step, but she’d been quite grateful Harry was willing to do this for her, as if he were actually gifting her with a bucket of gold, and not simply answering to speak with her cousin –problematic as the kid might be.

Women.

Hogsmeade was cold as Harry shut the door to Puddifoot’s behind him, taking a break from tonight’s preparation to go meet Xavier for lunch –or, at least, so he hoped: he’d sent the student an owl asking to meet, but had not received an answer, so there was the slightest possibility that he’d be an utter no-show. But he’d have to try, or risk disappointing Cavanaugh –and there was no way of knowing how a disappointed woman would react. Harry rather not find out. Leaving tracks in the snow, the Auror walked to the Three Broomsticks, and relished the heat he found inside. A quick glance around informed him Xavier was not as of yet present, so he ordered a butterbeer and settled down at an unoccupied table to remember the good times as he waited for his guest.

It had actually become a bit of a joke that Xavier had been given a letter from the Famous Harry Potter. When the letter first arrived with the morning post it had been passed around the Slytherin table. Even some of the younger years found it amusing. He had been asked to join Potter for lunch during the next Hogsmeade weekend. Xavier knew exactly what was going on. Berkeley had suddenly taken an interest in his life, trying to steer him down the right path and getting one of her Auror friends (famous or not) to have a chat with him was obviously just another attempt to interfere with his life.

The little man to man was going to be pointless though. Xavier had only be five at the time of the Second Wizarding War but so much of his family had been in league with the Death Eaters that he did't feel a sense of elation but of mourning when Voldermort fell. At the time he didn't understand the sense of sadness that had washed through his family but everyone had blamed Potter for it. The History of Magic texts would tell a different tale but Xavier (much like any of the other children of Death Eaters) couldn't care less about the Boy Who Lived.

However that wasn't going to stop him from getting a free lunch and a tale to laugh with his mates over back in the Slytherin Dorms. Xavier entered the small cafe fashionably late, dressed to the nines (after all it was Valentine's and he had a special night planned with Strellie) He sat down at the table mildly aware that the cafe itself seemed to be packed with swooning teenage couples.

"Berkeley put ye up ta this, didn' shea?"

The glass his beverage was poured in was slightly oily with grim, but the actual drink was as pleasant and familiar as any of Ginny’s hugs. It was moments such as this that reminded him why even bothered being married to a woman –after all, it wasn’t simply his wife who was mental, but any other female. He’d never considered blokes romantically, but the honest truth was that if he had, it might all be simpler –which meant it was easy to understand those men who actually played for that particular team. Still, despite the respect and understanding, it was the good moments that made it worth it, and Harry found himself content as he sipped his butterbeer –calm enough for the first time in quite a bit to find himself actually starting to fall into slumber in the spot. It was the drink and the pleasant warmth of the room that were making him drowsy, and Harry felt his eyes begin to wrinkle, his head begin to nod and a quite honestly spectacular cloudiness take over his brain.

Berkeley put ye up ta this, didn’ shea?

It was a simple fact that when one was simply exhausted after almost eight months of little to no sleep, and they were finally able to find a way to nod off, being awoken was not a happy affair. It was yet another simple fact that, when under those circumstances, you added to it all that the person waking you up was a snarky teenager who believed he had it in him to be a big bad wolf, it was an even unhappier affair. Eyes snapping open, Harry sat up and tried to act as if he hadn’t just been about to take a nap. But his eyes were weary and his lips were creased in frustration, as he looked up at the baby cub –who, considering his potential record so far, might just have a chance in hell of becoming a big bad wolf after all.

“Why, hello, Xavier,” He smiled sardonically, eyebrows rising as he pointed out with his words just how rude he was behaving –not that he actually expected the kid to care; this was, after all, the nephew of one of the Ministry’s most wanted. “Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” He continued to be ironic, while mentally making a note to himself to write Teddy as soon as possible and inform him that if he ever saw Xavier Tawse he was to run the other way. “How about you? How’s life? Been behaving yourself well?” A pointed glance was the final piece of his annoyed performance, as Harry lifted his glass of butterbeer, downed it in one sip, and slammed it back down on the scarred wood top of the table –hopeful to startle the kid and make him think he was actually dealing with a professional here, and not an unstable, sleep-deprived, good for nothing at the moment, Auror.

Xavier plastered a charming suave smile on his lips as the older man went off, he winked at a table of younger year girls a little ways off and could hear them giggle. So little miss big and famous got annoyed that he didn't give him the usual fawning over a celebrity prattle? How cute. Xavier could have given him the usual, hey how you doing? Oh My Merlin, it's really Harry Potter, bull but that would have been patronizing to the both of them, but if Potter wanted him to play they part, well Xavier always had been a good actor.

"Sorry mate, me cuzzin's bin on me case fer months now." His charm wasn't up to full, not like it had been for Abby's birthday party when he needed Professor Reid to trust him near her little sister, but it wasn't far off.

He waved for a drink to be brought over and momentarily contemplated getting away with slipping some whiskey in it from the flask he had tucked into the back of his belt. He let his inner self laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Harry Potter was asking how his life was going. He had been returned to school a year prior after running away by his Ministry Grandfather and found hiding out in Knockturn, been hounded by Auror after Auror investigating the death of Ava Gosvenor, been put under strict watch by his Professors and the school nurse, put his ex girlfriend in the hospital hut during the final Quidditch match of the year and once again got hounded by Aurors after he killed a werewolf - with a muggle revolver no less - and he was supposed to believe that this was a good will mission to make sure he was doing well?

"Can' complain, yeh? Quidditch season's goin' well enuff. Studies are jus fine, dun need ta worry bout NEWTs till next year. One o' me best mates is playin Quidditch Professionally now an Ah've bin spenin mos nights wit me girlfriend in tha' special room up on thee Seventh floor." He took a long drag from his glass, "Or were ye more lookin' fer thee whereabouts o' me uncle or thee lil brat he nicked from that mental Auror witch?"

Truth was, beer was not going to get him through this lunch, but it would have to do –drinking anything stronger wouldn’t exactly be responsible. He wagged down another pint as Xavier went on to explain how his school life was going in a tone that didn’t exactly extend any kindness. Harry was beginning to understand just how much of a mad case this kid was –and the tiny acknowledgement in the back of his mind that he might actually know where his uncle was only served to further annoy him. It wasn’t about simply doing a favor for a friend –if he could manage to bring this kid over to their side, one of the Ministry’s biggest issues could easily be fixed. A glance at the teenager, however, as his beer was delivered and he drank half of it in one sip, proved that taming a nest of acromantulas might just be easier.

“I was more trying to be sure you weren’t going around killing students,” He answered, as if it was a trivial matter. “If this were an excuse to interrogate you about your uncle, I wouldn’t have been allowed to arrange this set up; they would have just dragged you into the Ministry and be done with it,” Harry considered his beer, gave another sip, and then shrugged. “Which might be what you’re looking at if you don’t start cooperating –a long stay in a Ministry cell to lighten you up a bit,” He tried not to think about how terrible he’d feel if this were one of his own kids. “I personally would rather it not get that far,” He tapped a finger against his chest, then shrugged. “But there’s plenty who don’t agree with me and who believe you know quite a bit about your Uncle’s whereabouts.” He stared at the kid seriously for a second, before smiling. “Should we order lunch?” He asked, as he waved for a waitress.

Xavier kept his smile in place as Potter spoke. Unless the Auror was a good liar, which he seriously doubted, this actually wasn't about Cinaed. Which only meant that Berkeley had more sway over The Man Who Lived than Xavier gave her credit for. She might be a psychotic ice queen but it looked like the petite doll of an Auror knew how to get what she wanted. He almost admired her for that.

As Potter sipped from a pint of beer Xavier became even more tempted to pull out his flask and his hand even twitched towards it. He had been drinking for years, Great Aunt Sophia had pushed whiskey on him back at the Montross home since he was twelve and he had been out drinking in pubs not much after that, it was even close for him to be able to do it legally, only a few more months and he'd be Seventeen.

"Oh I know all 'bout bein' dragged inta thee Ministry. Wouldn't be thee firs time, doubt it'll be thee las." He nodded in regards to ordering lunch and asked the waitress for a plate of fish and chips, receiving a small blush in return when he gave her a wink as well. As they waited for their meals Xavier turned back to Potter, "I've never killed a fellow student, not about ta start now wit only a year an a bit left." Despite the smile on his face there was a hint of seriousness detectable in his voice that suggested he wouldn't think twice about killing someone if he could feasibly get away with it.

"I only eva killed tha bloke, thee werewolf, an tha was in self defense even thee Ministry couldn' get me on tha one." He took a long drag from his drink and turned his cold grey blue eyes on the man across from him again the smile falling from his lips, "If ye wanna know wha I know ye jus hafta ask, but I'ma lil more interested in findin' me motha, since ye bastards put her on thee run, not ta mention me fatha." A small shiver of rage passed through him, "Accordin' to a report I nicked offa Berks, he's still alive." He neglected to mention the report he had stolen from his Cousin had been concerning an incident between him and his long time rival Peyton during the Winter Festival two Christmases ago, there wasn't any details about what they were fighting about but his father was listed amoungst the witnesses. He had no memory of what had happened courtesy of his Grandfather, a former Obliviator who felt it best to modify his memory.

It seemed rather impossible to get through to this teenager, and between his exhaustion and the fact that sitting before such a lost cause depressed him, Harry felt ever more tempted to cut this meeting short and get the hell back to event planning –which suddenly seemed like a piece of cake compared to trying to get a murdering teenager with a deranged murderer for an uncle to turn into a docile little puppy. However, he remained seated, for Xavier had nodded at the idea of ordering food, and the Auror felt as if he couldn’t give up now. After all, he’d defeated the wizard who was supposed to be darkest of all time –how on earth could he let a sixth year beat him? Groaning inwardly at Xavier’s attitude towards the waitress, Harry ordered his own meal and watched her walk off.

It was rather annoying when the Little Cub starter rattling about his rap sheet, considering Harry knew all about it –but then words came from his mouth that made the Auror sit up in his chair, eyes widening and his attention fully alert. Claiming the teenager to the side of light seemed rather implausible, but there was suddenly a chance he could at least get information. “Okay then, Xavier,” He stated, all facts and a stern but honest look on his face. “How about this? You tell me where your uncle is or anything you know about his current activities, and in exchange I’ll tell you everything you want to know about your parents.”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't think he had been wrong in his assumption that this meeting hadn't been about his uncle. After all if they really thought he knew something they would have brought him in, like Potter had said. So what had changed? It seemed that the older man suddenly found a new bargaining chip, one he didn't mind using. Xavier wasn't exactly the cooperating type, not unless he knew he could get something out it. Which was going to be an obstacle in itself, Xavier honestly didn't know anything about Cinaed, he was sure the Aurors actually knew more than he did even if they were a little slow on the uptake most times. Which meant he wasn't likely to get anything out of this exchange regarding his parents.

Xavier's sly smirk returned to his lips, "I guess tha' means we've gut a problem." He sipped from his drink and though the smirk remained there was a seriousness in his eyes. When it came down to it Xavier was genuine about wanting to find his parents. He wanted his mother back, the only woman to stand by him with everything he had gone through. His father though, he just wanted answers, why had he run, why had he let his family believe he was dead and what was he doing in Hogsmeade all that time ago?

"Ye' apparen'ly gut info an' I don'." The smirk slowly slipped away, "Truss me if I knew anythin' I'd tell ye. I haven't seen me uncle in ova a year now, not since ye put 'im on thee run. He was at our home in Montross wit me cousin Fionn, thee toddler he stole from tha' Auror woman, or guess I shouldn' say stole, 'e was takin 'is own kid bac'." Xavier pushed his fringe aside, "Then ye idiots wen' an blew up me house." 

As Xavier spoke, and each word indicated that none of his distinct goals for this meeting would be met, Harry found himself pondering one simple thought: were they, the Aurors, to be held accountable for who this kid was? It was true his family was rather unsavory, but much of what his coworkers had done had led to build Xavier Tawse into who he was today. As he stared at the Hogwarts student, he couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that, once again, life proved to be shades of grey; there was no black, no white, but simply everything between. No matter one’s intentions, every consequence had an action. It was a hard realization for him to come to –for him, it had always been rather simple. But, then again, hadn’t Molly actually killed Bellatrix? And nobody had complained, or thought Molly was evil, because her intentions hadn’t been dark. But she’d still done it.

But, then, Xavier called him and his type idiots, and Harry rolled his eyes. “You know, Xavier, manners will actually get you places,” His voice was carefree, but his face was still hard as he stared straight into the boy’s face. They weren’t really responsible, were they? Then, he sighed, rising a hand to rub at his temple. He had no idea how to deal with this kid. “So you actually think your Uncle was in the right about everything he did?”

Xavier shrugged and took a bite of his food. No one had actually asked him that before. Everything was always so black and white in his life. His family assumed he sided with them because that's how he was taught. He was supposed to agree with them. He was supposed to think purebloods were superior, that they had a rightful place at the top of the Wizarding world. He was supposed to think the Aurors were the bad guys because they had locked away so many of his kin, had destroyed his home and seemed to be rather fond of harassing him. But then hadn't he fallen in love with a half blood and whatever Strellie really was? Hadn't it been a muggle revolver he had used to kill that werewolf? One he had nicked from his Grandfather's collection of muggle weaponry? Was anything really that black and white in his life?

He allowed a small chuckle, "Ye know Potta', yer thee firs one ta eva ask me wha I think in all this." He dabbed a spot of ketchup off his lips, "I don' know wha ta t'ink bout wha me uncle does. I t'ink takin back Fionn was righ', was 'is own kid. But tha' otha stuff," Xavier gave pause to eat more of his food and give himself time to think. If he spoke aloud his doubts about the WBA, to an Auror no less, what were the chances of it getting back to his uncle? He had joined the organization as a junior member (unofficially) for his own selfish reasons. After all everything Xavier ever did was for himself not for anyone else.

"If everythin' they say bout me uncle is true, than no, I don' thin' 'e was in thee righ'. 'e support'd thee Death Eata's an' it land'd 'im in Azkaban. All thee people they say 'e's kill'd? 'e's eitha gunna end up dead or back in Azkaban which by then 'e may as well be dead. There's so much powa out there tha' 'e cin jus take, 'e's was'in' 'is time. Ye won' see me makin' thee same mistakes, tha's fer sure."