“And so Gin, your challenge…”

“…should you choose to accept it…”

“…is to seduce Draco Malfoy…”

“…with nothing but a pot of crème brulée…”

“…and this crowbar.”

Ginny Weasley stared at the crowbar that Luna held out to her. She swallowed. “A crowbar?”

“And a pot of crème brulée!” put in Colin, who was lounging on the picnic blanket, tossing stones into the Great Lake.

She turned to stare at him. “This is your revenge for setting you two up, isn’t it?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Colin smiled at her, “I adore Luna; it was just very sneaky.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m not seducing him in front of Crabbe and Goyle”

“You won’t have to.” Luna pointed to a solitary figure a few metres away, “He’s all on his lonesome.” And faster than Ginny could say ‘Quidditch’, she had a crowbar in one hand, a pot of crème brulée in the other and was standing before a bemused Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy.”

“Weasel?”

“Crème brulée?”

* * *

As a student, Malfoy had found that a liberal interpretation of the Malfoy Code of Conduct was beneficial in certain situations. For example, in compliance to Rule 17 (‘Weasleys are blood traitors and should be treated accordingly’), he should actually be walking away from Ginny Weasley, instead of standing there, watching her lick crème brulée off a decidedly shiny crowbar. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was a lot prettier and certainly more shapely than Pansy Parkinson, and there had to be a reason why all the Weasley women bred like rabbits.

He found his voice.

“Weasley.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve crème brulée on your fingers.” He blinked suddenly as she looked up at him with those huge eyes.

“Oh.”

And, mesmorised, he found himself taking her tiny hand in his…

* * *

Luna squeaked.

“Did Malfoy just…?” asked Colin, incredulously.

She nodded.

“Good grief! And I thought…Hold on a minute! Where’s she going?” He turned to Luna. “I swear that that wasn’t supposed to happen. She’s abandoned us!”

Luna leaned across and kissed him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”