DISCLAIMER: Warning ! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play.

Scene From A Restaurant…by Samayel

"What did you just order for us, love?" Harry was desperately curious. This was their first trip to a real French restaurant and, given Harry's lack of experience regarding serious cuisine, Draco had simply rattled off a blur of perfect French while ordering their meal.

"Oh, trust me, Harry! You will sooo love this. All of it. I ordered four courses of standards. Everything you taste tonight will be the embodiment of true cuisine." Draco was happy in his element; the world of fine dining, fashion, and travel.

Draco had gotten Harry to dress for the occasion, and Harry had acquiesced with charming ease. Not that Harry wouldn't dress up normally, but it wasn't as much of a thrill for him as it was for Draco. What Harry did like, was the way Draco responded to seeing his lover in formal wear. That was worth any inconvenience.

They chatted while they waited, partaking lightly of a rather pricey, but uncommonly delicious wine, and occasionally letting their hands meet across the small table they occupied.

The time passed quickly, as it so often did when they were lost in each other's company, and their meal began to arrive, course by course, delivered with a remarkable grace and a certain deftness only found in the most skillful wait staff.

The aromas were enticing, to be sure, and with a smile to Harry, Draco launched into the soup. A look of sublime pleasure crossed his face, and Harry, feeling confident, tucked into his own.

Draco couldn't help but notice the odd expression on his lover's face. Harry had that 'fish-out-of-water' expression that never boded well, and he couldn't hide it, especially not from Draco.

"Harry? What's wrong? Don't you like it?" He hated the very thought that some flaw might spoil his first fine dining experience with Harry. A flutter of worry was already worming its way through Draco's chest.

"Oh…uh…it's nothing. Really, love."

"Come on, Harry. I can tell you're not enjoying the soup. Mine is perfect. Want to trade?"

"Well…actually…it's just that…I don't want a fuss or anything, and the place is wonderful, and I don't want to bother them…but, my soup is cold."

Draco suppressed a chuckle. "Harry, it's called vichyssoise, and it's supposed to be cold. It's potato soup, and it really is delicious."

"Cold potato soup?"

"Yes, really."

"Hmm. I heard so much about French cooking. I guess I just assumed that…well…you know…they'd actually cook…with heat. My bad."

Draco giggled a little at Harry's nervous confession. "It's alright, Harry. Maybe chilled soups aren't for you. Try the escargot. I heard they absolutely soak them in wine, garlic and butter here. It's half the reason I wanted to try this place."

Harry seemed relieved and moved the soup off to the side, then filled his fork and tried the escargot. The first rush of flavors brought a smile, and he chewed heavily and with relish for a few seconds before swallowing.

"Not bad! Kinda chewy, but I couldn't really taste it through the sauce and spices. What's an escargot, anyway?"

"In this case, expertly sautéed snails. Highest quality, too. Their chef is famous for his standards."

Harry choked. "Snails?! You're kidding me, right? I just ate snails?"

"And you liked them! They're a delicacy, Harry. People eat them all the time."

"But…but...eeeww! It's a snail, for pity's sake! Don't they have any better food sources than that? Who was starving so badly that they dreamed up cooking a bloody snail?"

"Honestly! You killed a Dark Lord, but a tiny, little, wonderfully prepared snail will be the death of you? Just give it a chance, Harry."

"Anything even related to the slugs I saw Ron cough up is off my menu. Next course. It smells incredible, and I promise I'll keep an open mind and try to enjoy it."

Draco huffed in relative silence while Harry pulled the main course a little closer and took a tentative bite.

"Bloody hell! That's fantastic! See, love? I'm open to new things! I think I just found a new all time favorite." Harry cut another delicately seasoned sliver from the odd looking slice of meat on his plate and started chewing with gusto. "So what exactly is this?"

Draco shuddered. This didn't bode well at all. "Marinated and seared calf brain."

Harry sat perfectly still, paused in mid-chew. His eyes were fixed on the plate in front of him, then on Draco, then back to the full fork in his hand. He took the napkin from his lap and, with no pretense, spat the contents of his mouth into the linen. Draco cringed.

"Do you mean to tell me…that, with a perfectly good cow at their disposal, one of the finest restaurants in the world, can't be arsed to serve up something other than the fucking brains?! That's it. I'm done. If this is French cuisine, I'm sticking to the wine list and some fucking rolls! Wait! Don't tell me…do they make those out of pig shit? Or how about dessert? Will they sprinkle chocolate on some chicken gizzards? Is there any crime against food that hasn't been committed yet?"

"Now you're just being unfair! Harry…people all over the word respect this restaurant. You just have very plebian tastes." Draco bridled a little. Harry was ruining their special night with this public spectacle.

"Hah! They respect it from a distance for a reason! I'm wondering who schemed this up! Do you realize how much we're paying to eat the things that no sane person would want? There has to be a Slytherin involved in this somewhere near the top…I just know it!"

"That's it! You've gone fucking barmy, Harry! First you dismiss the food even when you like it, just because of what it is. Then you launch into conspiracy theories to excuse your being a complete prat! It's not an evil Slytherin scam! It's brilliant, and I love it." Draco lifted his chin at Harry and set his jaw in a direct challenge.

Harry smiled suddenly, relaxing and looking at Draco with a steady gaze that spoke of admiration.

"I guess you love a lot of weird things, don't you? That certainly explains how you wound up with me. I wouldn't trade that for the world. I may never like brains, or snails, or cold soup, but I know I'll always love you. I'm sorry, love. I freaked out a bit, and I didn't mean to get that worked up. The wine is perfect, and the company is amazing. Forgive me?"

Draco melted. That was more like the Harry he loved so much. He took the offered hand across the table in his own and felt the tension drain away.

"Nothing to forgive. I do love you, Harry. Enjoy the wine, and I'll enjoy the meal and you."

But Draco did mentally promise to request a discreet change to their order for a final course. "There's no way he'll ever find out about the tripe!'

FIN