Author's Note: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.
Written for the Occasion-a-Day Competition/Challenge. September 12 Prompt: Include a scene with two characters sharing a milkshake.
"Are you that ashamed of being seen with me at Fortescue's?" Hermione exclaimed in exasperation. Draco's cheeks turned a painful-looking shade of red before he nodded.
"Well, if that's how you really feel," Hermione muttered, spinning on her heel to leave, before Draco's hand touched her elbow, and "Please" reached her ears.
"It's not that I'm ashamed exactly," Draco rushed to explain. "It's that you're Muggleborn. And my family-" He looked at the ground. Lucius and Narcissa had no idea that he was in any kind of relationship beyond mutual enmity with Hogwarts' smartest Mudblood, and they had both been taking pains to keep it that way.
"What if you wore a glamour?" Hermione tried, before Draco shook his head again.
"People can see past glamours," Draco said, slanting one shoulder up in a pained shrug.
"Time for you to see what Muggles can do then," Hermione said determinedly, tugging him upstairs to the thankfully deserted dormitory.
Waiting in line at the ice cream parlour, Hermione thought there was no way that the Malfoys would ever recognize their son, or her, for that matter. Her hair had once again been tamed with more Sleekeazy's Hair Potion than she wanted to think about, and she'd done a decent (if still amateur) job at her makeup. She still looked like herself, but without the bushy hair, most pureblood wizards would skim right over her.
Draco was a triumph in ingenuity, from the brown wig tugged carefully over his sleek blonde head (and secured with a million pins, for good measure) to the contacts she'd borrowed without asking from Lavender Brown, to the slovenly Muggle clothes he couldn't help but look ill at ease in.
"What do you want?" he asked her in a low voice as they approached the front of the line. She didn't have to think before answering.
"A milkshake," she said. "A chocolate one, preferably."
"What's a milkshake?" Draco asked. Her mouth dropped open.
"Surely you've had a milkshake," Hermione replied. He shook his head.
"Well then, share mine," she blurted out, her fingers squeezing his nervously. "If you want."
"I do," he said, assessing the blush rising up her face.
The chocolate milkshake was massive, whipped cream spilling out the top, and Hermione sipped it happily, the cold chocolate sliding down her throat. Draco eyed it dubiously for a moment before taking his own sip. The surprised delight on his face nearly made Hermione spit out a mouthful of whipped cream.
"Open your mouth," she ordered, giggling. He did so obediently, still eyeing her with a bit of mistrust, before her fingers closed around the maraschino cherry dotting the top and fed it to him. His tongue brushed against her hand when his lips closed around the fruit, and if she'd thought her blush was bad before, her cheeks felt nearly incandescent now.
"Is something wrong?" he asked innocently, the tip of his tongue stealing out and licking a bit of chocolate from the corner of his lips.
"Oh, you," Hermione huffed, turning back to the milkshake. Her smile couldn't hide itself, though, or the way she kept playing footsie with him under the table.
"We should do this more often," she said meditatively, pushing the milkshake glass closer to him so he could finish his half.
"Agreed," Draco said and grinned. "Let's get another one to go."