Chapter 18: Sundae

Try to cut back. Leave the cherry off your Hot Fudge Sundae. - Garfield


"There is so much bloody cream on this thing!"

Hermione sighed at his complaint, and demanded, "What's wrong with cream, Malfoy?"

"Nothing, except that I hate it. And there's no way around it to get to the good stuff."

"For Merlin's sake. Just grow up and eat it, then, if you're so desperate to get there."

He sniffed snobbishly. "Why don't you?"

"... I don't like cream either."

Malfoy gave himself a face palm. "Well, isn't this is a bit of a fail. Look at the brownies and ice cream just laughing at us from underneath the barricade of whipped cream."

Hermione blinked longingly at the sundae, then said, "Okay, let's get rational about this. Let's just move the whipped cream somewhere."

Picking up his spoon, he concurred, "That should work. Let's go, Granger."

Both carefully spooned into the obscene mountain of cream and their spoons clanked when they met in the middle. Malfoy looked up and said, "Ready, Granger? Okay, lift! And go right... Yes!"

"Um, where do we move it exactly, Malfoy?" asked Hermione as they just hovered over the middle of the table. Stalemate.

Malfoy glanced left and right at the completely empty table, and shot her a disarming grin. "We really didn't think this through, did we?"

She couldn't help but giggle like a silly schoolgirl. "The two brightest minds in Hogwarts, bested by whipped cream. Now that's a headline."

"Drat. The ice cream is melting!"

"Just eat it, Malfoy!" she pressed, exasperated.

"No. You can't make me, you witch!"

"Don't be a pansy!"

Being the wiseass that he was, Malfoy wagged his index finger at her. "Tut tut, Granger, Pansy wouldn't appreciate that."

Ignoring him, she simply shoved her spoon straight into his mouth, taking him completely by surprise, and smeared the wall of whipped cream all over his lips and nose.

She held her breath for a second, fully expecting Malfoy to throw a hissy fit. But, silently, he just licked all the cream around his mouth and swallowed with a grimace. His tongue then darted out and swiped at his nose.

"Mmmmmm," he said sarcastically, but he was smiling.

"Wow, do you have a long tongue," she commented, and realised too late how suggestive it was.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her and grinned wolfishly. "One of my many attributes, I can assure you."

They were sat in a painfully tacky American diner, deep in the recesses of Islington, which was the local haunt of Muggle students in nearby universities and art colleges. Despite the fact that the place had seen better days, it was still a favourite of Hermione's because they served fully vegan sundaes. They were currently hunched over a small table in a booth by the window lit up by neon lights, their knees touching, with only the tall sundae glass between their faces.

Unperturbed by the comment, Hermione scooped into the sundae and spooned out a big chunk of brownie and vanilla ice cream. Malfoy watched with a lopsided smile as she swallowed.

"What?" she asked.

"Just imagining you sitting here having artsy discussions with your fellow fashion designers. Did you talk about Cristobal Balenciaga and the contribution of Yves Saint Laurent to the androgynous woman whilesmoking roll-ups?"

Her eyes widened. "You know Cristobal Balenciaga?"

"I'm well-versed in most spheres of human knowledge," he replied loftily.

"Well, actually, we mainly crashed this place for late night hot dogs after a night out," admitted Hermione.

Malfoy gave a bark of laughter. "Granger on the lash?"

Hermione gave him a pointed look as he took a generous spoonful of the sundae. "If you're going to give me a lecture about moral superiority again, I swear I will make you regret it."

"I remember precisely what happened the last time I lectured you - I'll be the first to admit it wasn't unpleasant," said Malfoy with a meaningful grin.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of the spat turned into a brief but enjoyable make out session on Malfoy's sofa.

"Well, it was a fun time," she protested. "After the war, I mean. Suddenly I didn't have a care in the world and no one knew who I was in Muggle London. They were the best years of my life."

He nodded in understanding. "I could imagine."

"What did you do after the war?" asked Hermione in semi-deflection. "I mean I read the headlines - well, everyone did - but I don't know the details."

"You want the details?"

She shrugged. "Why not? We have all night."

Malfoy shifted in his seat, as if making himself comfortable before he told his story. "Alright. A brief history of my post-war life. I shagged a lot of women when it came out in the papers that I switched to the Light during the war and was as much a hero as Potty and Weasel. I shagged more women when I managed to get my inheritance back. I shagged even more women when I made a success of my business. So there you go." He finished, spreading his hands out, palms up in flourish.

"Fascinating," she commented dryly.

"Wasn't that interesting, to be honest," he joked. "And you?"

"I told you, I went to university."

"Well, something obviously happened to propel you in that direction. I remember you wanted to go into the Ministry and do something about house elves. Shacklebolt was keen to offer you a position, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but I thought it's pretty obvious why I did what I did."

"I want to hear it from the horse's mouth," he insisted with a wink.

She smiled. "Well, you remember the whole media furor after the War. It was... suffocating. They followed me everywhere, and I mean everywhere - it didn't help that someone leaked the love letters between me and Viktor. And obviously, there was the whole thing about my parents."

His face was set in a serious frame as she trailed off. "How are they now?"

"Oh, very well, thank you. They still live in Australia, they got used to it and everything. But obviously I've taken off the False Memory Charm," she paused, hesitating if she should say any more. "I mean, it hasn't been exactly the same ever since, even though theoretically the charm is fully reversible. But I'm just glad they are doing well."

She looked up and Malfoy was staring at her with an unfathomable look on his face, and he went on to say something completely unexpected. "I'd like to meet them some day."

Hermione chuckled. "You? Draco Malfoy wants to meet my parents?"

"Why not? I have to meet the people who produced Hermione Granger," he teased easily. "Besides, I've always wanted to go to Australia, might as well crash at theirs. And I'm great with parents."

She couldn't help the snort that slipped out, and at Malfoy's offended scowl, she said quickly. "It just doesn't sound like you get much experience, since you're more into casual shagging."

Licking his spoon clean, he tapped it on the half-empty sundae glass. "Believe it or not, I've had a couple of serious goes."

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really? How were the papers not all over that?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he replied smoothly. "I know how to keep things secret if I wanted to."

"So... who were these forgotten women who never graced the front page?"

One corner of his mouth tugged upwards. "Hermione Granger wants to know about my love life? If I didn't know better I'd think you're jealous."

She kicked his shin under the table. "You wish. Just getting to know you better, Malfoy."

"Alright. There was this half-blood I met after the War. We dated for a year or so."

"Wow! Draco Malfoy in a long-term relationship?" she gasped in faux outrage. "Why did it end?"

He paused briefly, then said. "She died. In a car crash, actually, while she was visiting her Muggle family."

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh God. I'm so sorry I asked, Malfoy."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Not many people know - just Blaise and Pansy, actually." Spooning into the sundae again, he directed the conversation to her. "So, is your dating history as tragic as mine?"

"Well, no, it's all rather boring. You know about Viktor. Then I dated a Muggle for two years during university and he broke up with me when we graduated."

"Why?"

"He got bored. I got bored too, I just couldn't be bothered anymore," she explained in monotone.

"When was that?"

"A year and a half ago."

"You haven't dated anyone since?"

"No. I'm not like you," she quipped with a smirk, which he returned.

"Proud of it babe," he shot back.

The sundae was almost gone, and Malfoy scrapped together the last bits of brownie and ice cream. "Last bite?" he asked.

"Okay," said Hermione, picking up her own spoon.

"Nuh-uh," he stopped her, and lifted up his spoon. "Open up, Granger."

They locked eyes as her lips closed around his spoon, and she chewed with a smile.

"Let's take a walk," she suggested after she swallowed. "I'll show you my hood."

"Your hood?" he asked in both exaggerated incredulity and amusement at her street talk.

"Yes, Malfoy, my hood."


Both the floo and Muggle rail networks had closed, and all that was left was the Muggle night bus, which took an hour to get back to Hermione's flat. His jacket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders and they were engaged in non-consequential banter as they slowly approached her flat.

"So, did dinner meet your sky-high expectations?"

Malfoy set his lips in an haughty pout and nodded nonchalantly. "The cream was the worst bit. But to their credit, the brownies were crunchy on the outside and deliciously warm on the inside. The ice cream was average, but the vanilla flavour complemented the sundae's palette perfectly."

"Prat," she joked with a roll of her eyes as they came to a halt outside the door of her building. "How are you getting back to your place?"

"I'm calling my driver," he answered.

"You're telling me we didn't have to wait half an hour for that night bus?!"

He smiled. "I enjoyed it."

Hermione looked down as she felt her cheeks flush at his genuine tone. Slowly, she slid his jacket off her shoulders and handed it to him. "Thanks for taking me home, Malfoy."

"You're welcome, Granger."

She gave him a small, shy nod, and the keys jingled when she took them out of her purse. "Well, then..."

He stepped in closer and echoed, "Well, then..."

She held her breath when his nose brushed the corner of her left eye, then slid leisurely across her cheek to bump into her own nos. His gaze slipped from her eyes as his lips whispered over hers. Breathing in deeply, she held still as he gently sucked on her bottom lip, and his hands travelled down her sides to hold onto her hips. Her eyes had closed sometime in between and she was conscious that she was just standing there, her hands at her sides. So she reached up gingerly, her palms finding his chest, and with her fingers curling into his t-shirt, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed him back.

Then he broke away slowly, noses still touching, opened his eyes and smiled. Stepping back fully, his hand slid from her elbows to squeeze her hands. "Good night, Granger."

She couldn't help the smile as she reluctantly untangled her fingers from his. "Good night, Draco."


Draco wished he was infinitely more busy than he was at the moment. A preliminary meeting regarding a potential joint venture was cancelled, so he had the entire morning free. An unwelcome prospect, actually.

He itched to reach out for a piece of parchment from the drawer in his oaken table and the quill to his right. But it had only been seven hours since he dropped Granger off, and the last thing he wanted was to come off as desperate.

Or overly interested.

The doors were flung open without as much of a knock coming from the other side. Draco didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"So, Mr Malfoy, how was your date last night?"

Draco's eyes snapped up to Zabini's smug face. "How the fuck do you know?"

"I pay your doorman to report any suspicious ongoings to me at all hours of the day."

"I'm going to fire that guy," grumbled Draco.

Zabini made a noise that sounded like pffffft and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "Don't be harsh, Draco. I need to know your comings and goings since I am your press man. And don't worry, no one knows."

"Merlin, I have no privacy whatsoever, do I?"

"Of course not, we're best mates, Malfoy," said Zabini, who proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows. "So...?"

"I'm not talking about this, Zabini."

He pouted. "Come on! You're not throwing me a bachelor's party, give me this at least."

Draco sighed. "It's a Muggle tradition, you dimwit. Are you one?"

"It's very much in vogue right now," pointed out Zabini. "As I was saying, since you're not throwing me a bachelor party, the least you could do is tell me how your date went."

Draco sighed heavily. "It was fine."

Zabini arched an eyebrow and tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "Tight-lipped. Must have gone well. The last time you went out with a girl you wouldn't stop talking about it, uninvited too, mind you."

"Please get out, Zabini, I'm bored of your pointless chatter."

Undaunted, he pressed on with a grin. "I suppose you'll want to change your RSVP then?"

Draco snorted. "Why would I? It's been one date."

"Are you sure?" he asked with a frown.

"Get. Out."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you to write your love letter. Actually, if you need a poem, Pansy's aunt gave me this terribly sappy book of poetry, I'm sure a little plagiarism wouldn't hurt for a good cause..."


The oven hummed as it warmed up Hermione's early lunch (a Tesco Value instant vegetarian lasagna). The warm scent of tomatoes and basil made her stomach growl.

Hermione felt restless. She knew Malfoy had a phone, but she was on a Muggle network so she had no idea how to text a magical phone. Not that she had his number anyway. And owling seemed disproportionately significant - like a phone call, which was a bit too much after a first date.

Her pencil drummed on the sketch paper and she sighed. This morning couldn't go any slower. She was working on a recruitment ad because despite what Malfoy said, she was worried that fashion talent in the wizarding world was a bit thin on the ground.

But she had big plans that required more than a one woman show. Custom work was good money and was brilliant at securing loyal customers, but she wanted to go back to her roots - eco-friendly clothes affordable for the masses. Besides, eliminating furs and leather in the strongly traditional fashion world would be an even better challenge.

Her eyes drifted to the roll of parchment paper on her bookshelf and began thinking to herself how different Muggle and wizarding dating etiquette was...

A tap on the window startled her out of her reverie. It was an owl.


I heard about this Mexican guy who sells quesadillas out of the back of his caravan in Shoreditch and I'm intrigued. I don't know my way around East London - care to take me there at 7 pm tomorrow? And while you're at it, you might as well stay for dinner. - DM


She secretly hoped that she didn't taste like the quesadillas she just ate a couple of hours ago. But she supposed that she did, since she could still taste the tangy tomato salsa on Malfoy's tongue.

They'd knocked back a few bottles of cider after polishing off the surprisingly good Mexican street food, talking and flirting and touching - more of the latter two as the cider seeped into their systems.

Malfoy had taken her home again, but it was not yet ten o'clock so they took the rail. And oh, right now, he was half on top of her on the sofa, Frenching her quite magnificently while she grasped the back of his neck

He took a shuddering breath and broke away from her gently, a cheeky grin unfolding on his slightly flushed face. "This is bloody good, Granger, but we probably shouldn't go too far."

She nodded, pleased that Malfoy was pacing himself. For her. This was more than bizarre. "I must say I'm pleasantly surprised by your self-discipline."

His chuckle reverberated against her chest and he brushed his nose against hers. "I'm flattered." Sitting up, Malfoy pulled her with him until she crashed bonelessly into his chest, an arm wrapped firmly at the base of her waist. "Who would ever have thought we'd be here making out on your couch, Granger?"

"Count yourself lucky," she teased, letting her head loll back against his shoulder, noting in satisfaction that his lips looked like they had been thoroughly kissed.

"What are you doing these few days then?" he asked conversationally, his fingers combing through her hair.

"I'll be busy finishing up Pansy's dress and her bridesmaids', obviously."

"Ah, of course. Five days to go, I can't believe Zabini hasn't run off yet," he said with a snort.

"Of course he wouldn't, any idiot can see how in love they are."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "So, who are you bringing as your date?"

She couldn't help it, but she stiffened out of nerves. You, hopefully, she thought to herself, but said instead, "Well, no one. I'll technically be working, making sure the dresses fit and take care of any sartorial emergencies. Pansy has five wardrobe changes throughout the day, so it's a full-time job."

"Bloody hell," commented Malfoy with a laugh.

Perhaps she shouldn't have, but curiosity killed the cat, and she asked, "And who is your date?"

Her heart sank as he shifted uncomfortably. "There's this woman, actually... I mean, it was arranged way before... all this," he stopped and gestured at them both.

"Oh," she said simply, hoping in vain that her disappointment didn't show.

Malfoy tilted her head up by her chin and locked eyes with her. "If I had a choice I'd go solo, but I can't really turn her down now."

"Okay."

Awkward silence.

Malfoy untangled his fingers from her hair and said, "I should go, I got that meeting at 8 am tomorrow."

She nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Her legs felt like lead as she stood up, her head pounding unpleasantly, whether from the cider or the spectacular nosedive in their conversation, she couldn't tell. She quietly opened the door and Malfoy shuffled around her to stand in the doorway.

"I'll see you later?" he said, and leaned in to kiss her.

Feeling stubborn, Hermione angled her face subtly away and he frowned. She forced a smile. "Night Malfoy."

She made to shut the door in his face, but he was too quick for her. "What's this, Granger? If you have something to say, then say it."

"I have nothing to say to you, Malfoy!" she snapped.

"Is this about my date? I mean it, Granger, there's nothing I can do about it."

"It's okay, Malfoy. I don't care, really," she stressed, reaching out to give him a platonic pat on the shoulder. This seemed to piss him off.

"You're radiating jealousy," he sneered, crossing his arms.

"Why would I be? We've gone out twice, Malfoy. Let's not make a big deal out of this okay?"

He half turned his head and muttered, "Women."

She cleared her throat loudly. "Excuse me?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Nothing, Granger. You're right, it's no big deal. It's nothing. Happy?"

She bristled. What the fuck did he mean by it's nothing? Not that she would gratify him by asking. "Yes. I'm ecstatic, actually."

Malfoy gave her a curt nod. "Great. See you at the wedding then."

"Fine," she shot back, but he had already turned to leave, his shoes clicking on the concrete stairs.

She didn't even flinch as the door slammed so loudly that the windows shook.


A/N: I wrote this in a bit of a hurry as I will be busy moving out of my flat and traveling the next two weeks. Quick note to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last time - over 50 of you! You guys are incredible. A bit of fluff and edge at the same time in this chapter to set us up for the long awaited Zabini-Parkinson wedding. Same as last time, I will send everyone who reviews a sneak preview of the next chapter, but it will be a few days before I send it out. Guest reviewers, I found out that you're not allowed to post your emails in reviews - so sign up for an account so you don't miss out!