Ice Cream

Dedicated to Juliane for giving me the plot bunny! (It's just one big inside joke, isn't it?)

Emmaline stood quietly in the queue, shuffling her feet nervously. Would she mess up? Would she let something slip? Would she remember the rules, the customs, the paradigms? What should she do if it didn't go strictly as the model in class?

Her Muggle Studies course had been planning this trip for about a month. The class had been both excited and scared; what would it be like to go to a Muggle ice cream shop? Some of the pure-blood children giggled shamefully. Would the muggles talk differently? No, the muggle-borns leered with a mixture of anger and the repressed urge to laugh. Well, will they have strange flavours?

Well...

Maybe...

The professor had run them through the process several times. They're young; the repetition will do them good. Do you think they can handle it? It's all we've been going over the past month. The students would be called up to form a line; a random assortment each class. The professor would take the part of the clerk; each student would become a customer. Over and over they practiced, until at last it was THE DAY.

The students had loaded onto the Knight Bus and giggled while holding on for dear life. The hoard of eleven year olds crowded off and collected on the curb. They stood looking with rapture on their mentor as they received their last instructions. Be polite. Don't let them see your wands. There was a flurry to check concealment. If they ask, you are from Saxton. Saxton, the children murmured, trying to remember.

And they had followed the professor the three additional inconspicuous blocks to the ice cream parlor.

Emmaline drew a shaky circle in the gravel with her toe. Ron Weasley, the youngest boy in the class, tugged the sleeve of her muggle shirt. "You've got to move up," he whispered. Emmaline jerked up the three feet that had been suddenly made available by the snotty Malfoy boy. He ordered and suddenly it was Emmaline's turn.

"What can I get you?"

"Er...may I please have a small strawberry cone?"

"Sure. Waffle cone or sugar cone?"

Emmaline panicked and shot a nervous glance at Draco, who was languidly leaning against a trash barrel and lapping at the ice cream within.

"I'll have the--er--the same as his. Please."

"No problem."

It was a moment or two before the clerk returned with the cone.

"That's one pound thirty pence."

Emmaline shuffled through her purse to be sure she had the right amount. Shakily, a bill and a few coins were extracted from the tiny pouch and laid on the counter. In a matter of seconds, change was made and Emmaline was handed a small cone topped with a creamy pink dome.

"Thank you," Emmaline managed, before moving off the side.

She gazed at the spotted sphere as she walked, and noticed only too late that it wobbled to one side. In a futile attempt to rescue it, Emmaline jerked the cone towards her. The sudden momentum forced the scoop of ice cream in the very direction it had started. In a moment of dramatic slow-motion, the dessert fell to the ground with a splatter and a splash.

An ashamed flush flew up Emmaline's cheeks and she flung the emptied cone into the wastebasket next to her. She stood there, staring at the mess she'd made, for a few minutes.

"What happened?"

Harry Potter had come up to her side. THE Harry Potter was concerned about her. She stopped breathing.

"I dropped my ice cream," she managed. Harry glanced down at the expanding puddle and smiled up at her.

"Here, have mine," he offered. Emmaline gawked at the towering three scoops of coffee fudge and finally managed to shake her head 'no'. "Oh, well," Harry stuttered. "Well, let me buy you a new one."

"NO!" Emmaline protested. "No, that's all right. I'm all right." Her voice was shaky and flustered.

"Are you sure?" Harry pressed. He slid his glasses back up his nose and Emmaline couldn't help glancing at the ever-present scar. She nodded, ashamed newly at her bad-mannered leering. Harry grinned and nodded before walking away.

"It wasn't your fault," came a drawling voice. Emmaline glanced up sharply and saw the rotten Malfoy boy sauntering up to her. "I saw the terrible job they did on your cone," he commented, his very voice a seductive tone in itself. "I'd be happy to take care of it for you."

Before Emmaline was able to stop him, the boy had stalked off to the server window and shoved Ron Weasley out of the way. Thankfully, Ron had already gotten his ice cream.

"What's his issue?" Ron spat, coming up to Emmaline's side.

"I dropped my ice cream and he's going to...deal with it."

An angry shout came from behind them. Emmaline and Ron edged away from the booth slightly.

"Oh," Ron acknowledged as they backed off. "D'you want mine?" he offered shyly. He held out a dripping cone that held up a mess of butter pecan ice cream..

"Oh, Ron," Emmaline flushed. "No, thank you."

"Oh, go on then," Ron urged. "I don't mind."

Emmaline resisted again. "No, Ron; I'm all right. Thank you."

"FOOL OF A MUGGLE!" came a loud scream.

"Don't you like butter pecan?"

"It's not that--"

"IT WAS YOUR SHODDY WORKMANSHIP THAT CAUSED IT TO FALL!"

"Oh, just take the ruddy cone, Em!"

"I really shouldn't--"

"YOU'D BETTER MAKE ANOTHER!"

"Come on, really!"

"Well, all right."

"HE'S GOT A GUN!"

"There, now we're happy, eh?"

"Thank you, Ron."

"DRACO MALFOY!"

"What has he done?"

"I think we'd better move on."

"BACK ON THE BUS!"

"Was that the leg-locker?"

"I don't think we want to know. Thank you for the ice cream."

"THE VERY NERVE!"

"It was my pleasure. I'm happier without it than with."

"You make no sense, but you're the sweetest."

"SHE DESERVED IT!"