We Don't Eat Ice Cream
“I’ll buy you an ice cream — what flavor do you want? And yes, you can get toppings-”
“Malfoy, I’m older than you and I’m your agent. You can stop talking like I’m some bloody kid you got stuck babysitting,” Winky Crockett reminded Natalie as they approached Florean Fortescue’s in Diagon Alley. Natalie wanted to personally visit “the interesting businesses” which offered to sponsor her. Florean’s being one of them. She left the boring ones for Crockett to take care of.
Natalie scowled. “Fine. . . I can’t eat ice cream, okay? Dent calls it the World Cup Diet. Which is the dumbest, most obvious name ever. If I was captain-”
“You’re not.”
“I know that, Crockett! Anyway, I’d name it something better, at least-”
Winky Crockett stared at her. She’d stopped in the middle of Diagon Alley and stood gawking into the crowd.
“Malfoy? You alright?”
Natalie shook her head, blinking rapidly for a moment. “Yeah, er, fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
She glanced over at him, curious look on her face. “Are you — do you know Legilimency?”
Crockett dropped his gaze. “Er, yeah. I’m not the best, but-”
“But you can pick up on some things. I just remembered,” she mused, “my first Quidditch match at Hogwarts. I walked into the common room and you asked if I was ready. All I said was yes, but-”
“But I said that I loved your attitude,” Crockett was grinning now. “Then something about you being calm and composed, not letting the excitement get to you, waiting to channel it into the game later.”
“Yeah. . . can’t say I’m calm and composed anymore,” she muttered and glanced back into the crowd. Craning her neck as if looking for someone.
“Who’d you see?” he asked, “not someone you like, I can tell.”
“I’ll have to work on my Occlumency,” she joked.
“Or just your obvious expression of disgust.”
“Oh, yeah, that.”
“So. . . who was it?” he pushed for answers as she led him into Florean’s.
“Someone I went to school with,” she mumbled and handed him the parchment on which the terms of the sponsorship were written. “Here, can you. . . deal with this? I’m gonna get ice cream and not tell Dent about it.”
“He’ll find out somehow,” warned Crockett.
“Then I’ll just look really pretty and try really hard at practice,” she snapped and moved away from Crockett to place an order at the counter.
After paying for her butterbeer frappe, she decided Crockett, who had disappeared into the back with Florean himself, was competent enough to handle the sponsorship contract, so she stepped out of the store, pulled her cloak over her head and walked straight to Knockturn Alley.
The bell jingled as she stepped into Borgin and Burke’s and flung her hood down to survey the store. Natalie was immediately disgusted. There were people inside. And none of them were the person she was looking for.
Her Uncle Burke was haggling at the counter with a customer who seemed convinced he had “Merlin’s actual favorite teapot” at home and was looking to sell it for “at least five thousand Galleons”. It was evident that Caractacus Burke thought this customer was full of shit.
While the customer postulated and Burke shot his every remark down, Natalie browsed the shop, pretending to actually be interested in the “Hand of Glory” and the “Veil of Despair”. Hoping nobody would recognize her as she sipped the butterbeer frappe and planned how she was totally going to gloat about having ice cream to Ricky Webster and Leonard Cadwallader.
Unfortunately, a small gasp interrupted her elaborate schemes and she whirled around to find two young boys excitedly pointing and staring at her.
When her eyes landed on them, they squealed and went to duck behind a tall cabinet.
She snorted and walked towards them, rounding the cabinet and saying, “boo!”
They screamed and fell over each other. Scrambling to their feet yet cowering before her, starstruck.
“What’re you kids doing in here?” she asked, bored and annoyed there was a bunch of children in Borgin and Burke’s and not her boyfriend — who fucking worked there.
“Er, we’re, uh, here with our dad,” mumbled one of the boys.
“Oh, is he the one trying to sell Merlin’s favorite tea pot?”
“Yeah, but we know it’s not actually Merlin’s favorite tea pot,” said the other boy. Natalie assumed they were brothers. They both had curly dark hair, brown eyes and freckles.
“Yeah, we’re not stupid, we know Merlin didn’t drink tea,” his brother, who looked older, piped up, trying to sound impressive.
Natalie stared down at him. “How do you know Merlin didn’t drink tea?”
They both blanched.
“Well,” began the younger after needing a moment to summon up some courage, “Mom drinks tea. Dad doesn’t. So that must mean tea is a witch drink-”
“And Merlin was a wizard,” said the older, sounding very sure of himself.
“Can we get your autograph?” blurted the younger, who then slapped his hands over his mouth. His brother looked ready to murder him on the spot, obviously wanting to wait a bit before working in that request.
Natalie laughed, “sure — if I can ask you two a question.”
“Yes!” exclaimed the older brother, clearly convinced this was an excellent bargain.
“Have you seen another wizard who works here? My age, tall, dark hair that always looks perfect, dark eyes you could stare into all day, more handsome than the devil, excellent vocabulary, might’ve been brooding about something — er, yeah, uh, have you seen him?”
The boys were smirking now, which annoyed her further.
“No, we haven’t seen anyone who’s more handsome than the devil,” said the younger with a mischievous air about him.
“Why?” asked the older, just as mischievously. “Do you fancy him?”
“No!” was her instinctive response, as if she was also eight years old and not dating said wizard. Bloody hell. Scowling, she whipped out her wand (which made the boys flinch) and flicked it. Two square pieces of parchment appeared in the air, each with her signature scrawled on them.
“Here,” she grunted and flung the parchment at the boys. They eagerly snatched them up and darted away into the shop, crowing victoriously to each other.
Now twice as furious as she had been earlier; when she had seen Oberon Talon in the crowd of Diagon Alley, she stalked through the shop towards the front. Loudly slurping on her butterbeer frappe as she approached the counter where Burke was done with haggling but the customer and boys’ father refused to accept that the cracked teapot his wife discovered in the attic was not, in fact, Merlin’s favorite.
The obnoxious noises she made attracted Burke’s attention. He glanced up and spotted her charging towards the counter.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crabbe, but I must refuse,” repeated Burke, “I’ve no interest in whatever ruddy teapot Mrs. Crabbe found.”
“Yeah, everyone knows Merlin didn’t drink tea,” snapped Natalie and she pounced, leaping upwards and settling herself cross-legged on the counter between Mr. Crabbe and Caractacus Burke. She came very close to both wizards, each taking an instinctive step backwards as her cloak billowed out over the counter.
Natalie aggressively slurped on her frappe again and focused her attention on Mr. Crabbe. She was close enough to observe beads of sweat appear on his forehead and note that his brown eyes were a shade darker than his annoying sons’.
“Hello. I’m Natalie Malfoy. I think I’ve just met your sons. They seem to know an awful lot about Merlin and his distaste for tea.”
“I, uh, yes, er, hello — big fan — uh, my sons, you say? By Salazar-” he turned and frantically peered through the shop. “Vincent! Wesley! Get over here!”
The boys came skittering out from around an aisle full of what looked like blood-stained china. Waving the pieces of parchment Natalie had given them and looking very pleased with themselves.
“Dad, look! We got Natalie Malfoy’s autograph — oh,” the younger boy tripped and fell over his own feet when he realized Natalie was right there. The older quickly leapt over his brother to avoid falling and plastered a look of innocence on his face.
“I assure you, Mr. Crabbe, that parchment is worth more than the chipped monstrosity you’ve been trying to pass off as Merlin’s favorite,” said Burke with distaste. “Now get out of my shop before your sons damage something much more valuable than they can begin to understand.”
“Quite right, Mr. Burke,” muttered Crabbe, who ushered his sons to their feet. He shot a look at Natalie, who raised her frappe in his direction and he swept out of the shop. His sons glancing back and waving at her.
Once they were gone, she spun on top of the counter and met her Uncle’s eyes while chomping on the straw of her drink.
“Where’s Tom?”
“Out,” said Burke with a chuckle. “I knew Crabbe didn’t have Merlin’s favorite teapot because Tom’s out getting Merlin’s actual favorite teapot from some witch who has no idea what it is, other than that it makes the best tea she’s ever had.”
The straw fell out of Natalie’s mouth in astonishment. “Wait — Merlin actually drank tea?”
“Of course he did,” said Burke, “Now, get off my counter if you aren’t intimidating customers.”
“I wasn’t trying to be intimidating,” she grumbled but climbed off anyway, landing with a sashay on the customer side. “Well, when will he be back?”
“He’s across London, so it depends on how long he needs to convince her it’s useless,” replied Burke with a snigger. Then he held up a pocket watch. “I’ve gotten to timing him, you know. Depending on how easily persuaded the client is, sometimes he’s back in under an hour.”
“I thought I said you couldn’t work him too hard,” she was unable to keep the hiss out of her voice.
Burke dropped the pocketwatch onto the counter with a sudden thud that seemed to echo around the shop. Natalie watched a vein jump in his temple as his pale eyes narrowed.
“I’m not going to not work him,” he snapped at her.
Natalie ran a finger down the chain around her neck and sipped the last of the butterbeer frappe, sucking in a deep breath and sighing. This was her blood relative and a sponsor. It wouldn’t do to infuriate him.
“Alright, fine. Tell him I stopped by.”
Now he looked disappointed. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes,” she spun the remnants of foam and ice cream around the bottom of the drink. “I’ve got to get back to my agent. I just, er, wanted to pop in and visit him. . . .”
“Wants to visit the boyfriend but not her own uncle,” Burke muttered as she turned and made to exit the shop.
Natalie scowled, facing away from Burke so he couldn’t see her expression. She took the liberty of rolling her eyes. Deciding she’d rather not respond, as she was already worked up enough and affecting Burke more would surely just devolve into an explosive argument between them.
Pretending she hadn’t heard his comment, she stepped out into the coolness of Knockturn Alley and walked right into an anxious Winky Crockett.
“There you are!” he sounded relieved. “I’ve been looking all over. C’mon, I finished with Florean’s but we still have some time to-”
“Forget it,” she interrupted, stomping past him and thinking about how goddamn annoying the day had already been. She couldn’t stand smiling and talking to anyone else. “We’re done. I gotta get back for practice anyway.”
“Malfoy. You had ice cream.”
Natalie’s jaw dropped. Eugene Dent, captain of the English national team had just walked into the locker room, took one look at them all, and pronounced this with such certainty she wondered if he had followed her around all day.
“What — how — did you — how’d you know?”
Dent grinned. “Because Caddy is drooling and he only drools over food and fit girls. He doesn’t drool over you anymore because you hexed him the second practice. Ricky only does that exact hand motion,” he pointed over at Ricky Webster, who dropped his hands from his chest immediately. “When’s he’s telling the story about him and the witch who let him lick — er, eat, uh, ice cream, er, from her, uh nevermind — and the Pottingers look constipated.”
Natalie stared at him. “What’s that last bit got to do with anything?”
“The Pottingers are lactose intolerant,” said Dent, his grin widening.
“You didn’t have to censor my story like that,” Ricky looked miffed. “It’s a bloody brilliant story. I can finish telling it-”
“Yeah!” pleaded Caddy.
“No!” Natalie slapped her hands over her ears. “It’s gross!”
“Enough!” ordered Dent and he glared around at them all, now in Quidditch captain mode. “Get on the bloody field. And Malfoy — if I see you slacking-”
“You won’t,” she barked at him, picked up her broom and rushed out. Making sure to slam her shoulder into Dent’s as she walked past him. He stumbled, a shiver ran through him — and he sprinted out after her, leaving Ricky to continue regaling Caddy with his ice cream and a fit witch story.
“Was it at least good ice cream?” he snarked as he and Natalie took the field. She jumped on her broom immediately and hovered a few feet above him.
“Butterbeer ice cream,” she sneered. “If you must know.”
“I do. I know everything about my team. I’m the captain.”
“Yes, you demonstrated that nicely in there.”
“You’re the one who chose to gloat about it to them. Ice cream, though? Really?”
“What?” she hissed, “I was with Crockett in Diagon Alley. Florean’s is sponsoring me!”
Dent scoffed, “they’re sponsoring me too but you don’t see me stuffing dairy products down my throat whenever I get the chance.”
“Seriously? Stuffing dairy products down my throat? Can you be any more dramatic?”
“Yes, actually,” he said and hopped on his broom to join her in the air.
She scowled at him. “Whatever, Dent. I just want to practice.”
“Sure you’re going to be able to practice? Seeing as you lose all self-control the second you see some ice cream-”
“I DID NOT LOSE SELF CONTROL!”
Dent just looked at her as though she’d proven his point.
She let out a snarl. “Fine. I. . . I got, er, mad about something. . . . Ended up buying ice cream. . . .”
“It’s the little things, Malfoy. You aren’t ever going to be a World Cup champion if you aren’t already acting like a World Cup champion now,” he reminded her, reaching into the pocket of his robes, pulling something out and flinging it at her. She instinctively ducked out of the way.
“MALFOY!” it was now Dent who was yelling.
Bewildered, she gaped at him. “WHAT?”
“ARE YOU GOING TO DODGE THE SNITCH WHEN WE’RE PLAYING FRANCE?”
“NO!” she turned to note that he had flung a Muggle golf ball at her.
“THEN FOCUS ON THE BLOODY SNITCH!” he roared, pulling another from his pocket and throwing it her way. This one soared right under her unexpecting hand. “MALFOY!”
“THROW ANOTHER!” she yelled back, now focused on the task.
He did. Except he didn’t throw one. He threw three at the same time. The golf balls careened through the air and Natalie let out a string of swears. She knew Dent expected her to catch them all.
Pulling her broom to the right, she darted after the first. Snatching it out of the air with ease and stuffing it into the inside pocket of her robes before diving for the second. She plucked this one from the air and hurtled towards where the third was now plummeting back down towards the earth.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she ground her teeth and muttered as she fell into a straight dive, reaching out for the golf ball — but a Beater’s bat appeared from nowhere and whacked the tiny ball away.
Nearly falling off her broom, she came to a stop in mid-air and gawked around.
“RICKY!” she shrieked upon spotting the smirking culprit. “WHY’D YOU DO THAT?”
“BECAUSE I TOLD HIM TO!” bellowed the raging voice of Dent. He flew towards her, a brutal look on his face.
“WHY’D YOU TELL HIM THAT?”
“BECAUSE WINNING THE CUP ISN’T GOING TO BE EASY, MALFOY!”
“I CAUGHT TWO! I WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THREE-”
“BUT YOU DIDN’T!”
“THAT’S YOUR FAULT!”
“ARE YOU GOING TO STAY THERE AND BLAME ME OR ARE YOU GOING TO CATCH THE FUCKING SNITCH?” he stabbed a finger to where Ricky had batted the last ball — it had sailed upwards and was now sailing back down, about half the field away.
Spitting a few choice names at Dent, Natalie wrapped her hands around her broom and took off. Streaking down the pitch, keeping her eye on the falling golf ball.
She dropped into a dive for the second time, and was about to catch it for the second time, when it was batted away for the second time. Leonard Cadwallader the guilty party this time.
Furious, Natalie turned to spot Dent glaring at her from across the pitch. He hovered in the air, apparently intent on making today’s practice more like “Seeker practice” seeing as the Pottingers were all hanging in the air beside him and Caddy and Ricky looked ready to take Dent’s orders.
“DENT! WHAT THE HELL?” she screamed at him, wind carrying her voice.
She could see his maniacal expression even from her vantage point. And suddenly she understood the perspectives of Lestrange and Dawson when she had been their Quidditch captain. Dent was crazier than her. But that was fine. She could work with crazier than her.
“WE’RE DOING THIS ALL DAY, MALFOY!”