Neapolitan
They're sitting on the sofa in Pansy's flat, eating muggle ice cream straight from the tub with the wireless on, and Draco swears he's never felt more content in his life. There are no dark lords, no wars, no exams, just them, ice cream and something Pansy likes with far too many flutes playing in the background. It's nice. He feels safe; there's no pressure to do anything.
It's far too hot, and they've both almost finished. It's not as good as Fortescue's, but magic ice cream leaves magic stains, so Pansy won't have it in the lounge. She wouldn't care half so much if they were at his parent's house, but when it comes to the secondhand, threadbare sofa that she found in a charity shop she's unreasonably protective. She claims that it's her way of maintaining family traditions without having to give up her independence, but Draco thinks she's just fussy.
She yawns, as graceful as ever, and reapplies the Cooling Charm on the room. "Got any news? We haven't done this in ages."
He thinks, considering the potion he finally completed last night, and the concert tickets he was planning on buying Blaise for his birthday, but there's nothing particularly urgent. Now's as good a time as any to tell her, then.
"I'm ace."
"Cool." She runs the spoon around the rim of the tub, stubbornly scraping off the last of her ice cream with a determination that Draco finds almost scary. "I'm a lesbian."
He rolls his eyes, and opens the vanilla ice cream, pushing the empty tub of strawberry away with his foot. "Pansy, it's my turn to come out. You've had your chance."
"Yeah, but I was fifteen. Completely wasted it." She emphasises her point with a flail of chocolatey fingers, and he laughs, remembering the way she'd stood on the common room table and announced her masterplan on dating the French Triwizard Champion. "Besides, it's not like it's a shock."
"It isn't?" He asks, taken aback. He wouldn't consider himself to have the same flair for the dramatic as Pansy, whatever she may say, and he's fairly certain he would remember having already come out.
"Not really. It's not like you said you were planning on eloping with Harry Potter," she says, a dangerously teasing glint in her eyes that would make Draco want to hide under the sofa cushions if it wasn't so bloody hot.
"No, I suppose it isn't."
Pansy raises one perfectly manicured hand to swipe at the chocolate smeared on her nose, and Draco wonders if perhaps he should wait until next week to tell her he's crushing on Ron Weasley.
A/n: Written for Caesar's Palace shipping week. I... Have no idea where this came from. Hope you enjoyed!