The bell above the door let out one last cacophonous ring as Dmitri finally exited Madam Malkin's. He adjusted his grip on the four heavy shopping bags—two in each hand—of clothes he didn't need nor ask for, as his eyes adjusted to the glare of the midday sunlight. Blinking away spots dancing in his eyesight, all caused by the hours wasted in the dimly-lit confines of the clothing shop's changing rooms, the bleach-blonde matched his stride with the hordes of Diagon Alley summer shoppers down the sidewalk.

Clothes-shopping was not his thing. He was supposed to be here with his aunt, seeing as it was her fault he needed new clothes anyway. Some kind of "important" mixer in some bigshot's mansion. Apparently, none of the clothes in his exquisite, exclusively black wardrobe would suffice in something quite as... grand. To be frank, Dmitri wasn't really bothered about having to go to the party with his aunt, anyway (the said bigshots were Slytherin alumna and had to meet him after his academics became a random topic of conversation on one of his aunt's tete-a-tetes). It was better than—once again—getting abandoned in that still-unfamiliar house with only his thoughts to keep him company and his mother's... anniversary looming over him. Not even the most engrossing school books can distract him from that.

The boy swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned a corner.

It was just the principle of things—countless hours of enduring fittings, and measurings, and coddling, alone—that irked him. He could have at least had a witness to his suffering, but his aunt had to have a last-minute arrangement and left him to his misery.

Then again, works stops for no man—especially not a Ministry Unspeakable like his Aunt Tabitha.

Speaking of jobs, Dmitri's eyes settled coldly on a younger student that stood outside of the ice cream shop down the street. He had vouchers he was unceremoniously asked to hand over to some George Harry or some Hufflepuff kid like that. From the way the younger boy stood (overly-casual and trying hard to look like he belonged though he could not have looked more out-of-place), it seemed the Slytherin found his quarry.

I really have no time for stupid crap like this. The boy lamented as he approached. Aside from not being some kid's messenger owl, I have lots of better things to do.

Once the kid's eyes would meet his, Dmitri would raise one finger to prompt him to wait. He would then perfunctorily push two of his shopping bags into the boy's arm to rummage around in his messenger bag for the vouchers. Once he finds them, the Slytherin would stuff them in the Hufflepuff's otherwise-occupied hands and grab his shopping bags back. "You're welcome. The Slytherin Postal Service is currently at a premium this year and you're lucky I'm too irritated to even bother computing how much to charge you." Dmitri would say haughtily as he'd raise an eyebrow in an expression clearly conveying 'are we done here?'.

George was engrossed in conversation when Dmitri first spotted him, unaware that the Slytherin boy's arrival was so close at hand. "Stop your squawking, you pest," he scolded the beast. In search of something to placate him, the boy dug in his pockets, taking out one of the owl treats he was carrying. Ever since Alan had got him the first one, Cadmus had been hooked on the things. George often felt it would be better if he had never shown Cadmus any sort of kindness at all, as the bird would no doubt be more content with his lot in life if he had no clue there were anything better. With a heavy sigh, he dropped the treat onto the bird, who greedily gobbled it up.

Dmitri was just before George when the younger boy looked up, blinking in surprise. Wow - sneaky as a Slytherin indeed. Unnoticed in approach, Dmitri now held George's full attention, the young boy watching with bated breath as his elder rummaged through his bag. A glimmer of joy shined in his eyes as he saw the vouchers, his smile lighting up his face. "Cheers! Nice of you to waive the fee, as well. I charge my bunkmate a knut to use Cadmus here for postage, so it's a pretty good deal getting to use a Slytherin for free."

A cheeky smile made his quips all the less bearable for the tightly-wound Slytherin, no doubt. The boy examined the vouchers in his hand, inspecting them carefully - quite the score. Especially for someone who he'd only played chess with once. Not that the strangeness made him any less willing to accept the gift, however. Lessons about accepting sweets from strangers tended to slip the mind after being whisked away to a school of magic. Conventional wisdom sort of becomes moot when your view of the world is flipped on its head.

"What's got you bothered?" George wondered. Dmitri had done him a service, even if it was only a small delivery, and he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty accepting such a nice gift from someone who was so clearly having a dreadful day. The relief from guilt was enough to salve the sting of losing one of his precious two vouchers, lifting it up and offering it to Dmitri. "Here, in lieu of payment. One voucher to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. No need to thank me. I'm going in now if you want to come. I'm not about to hold onto this thing all summer. It'll end up getting lost."

Dmitri's nose flared as he (barely) resisted the urge to hex the young man's smug smile off his face following his "clever" comment. The boy was lucky he remembered they were not at Hogwarts, right at the last second—the third-year simply wasn't ready to test the limits of underage magic around Diagon Alley.

Definitely not for a Hufflepuff kid.

As it is, he settled for a stiff, icy smile. "You know what," Dmitri said as he snatched the voucher out of the boy's grasp, "Why the hell not? It's the least I deserve taking precious time out of my busy day to hand-deliver you these." With a huff, the older boy repositioned the shopping bags he held in his arms and stomped his way into the ice cream parlor.

It was only until he got right up to the counter where a jovially grinning man was handing out frozen desserts to a modest line of customers, that he realized he had actually never been to this joint before. Before his first year at Hogwarts, he was still reeling over the recent loss of his mother to pay much attention to his school shopping, and on his second and third years, his aunt had everything bought and readied for him, giving him just enough time to study his lessons in advance (which contributed a lot to his O-average to this day).

This year was only different because of the custom suit he had to get fitted for, and even then, he was supposed to be here with his aunt and not... alone.

A stylized menu board hung above the counter, but Dmitri might as well have been cross-eyed—there were so many things written on it, so many options, that everything just sort of blurred together.

Overwhelming was an understatement.

Pickled Peach, Crunchy Cactus—there even was an Extra-Smoky Steak flavored soft-serve. Dmitri didn't know how that last one worked as a frozen dessert, but it seemed like everything in the Wizarding World just has this unspoken competition on who can come up with the most ridiculous and outrageous things. Whether it be because of magic making anything possible or because of something else entirely, it just seemed to be a notable theme around here, in general.

Very quickly, the line in front of Dmitri dwindled until it was only him who stood before the counter. The cheery man behind it flashed him an expectant smile. "Oh. Uh..." Shit. He still hasn't been able to choose!

Images and words flashed through his mind as he stared at the options above him. Caramel. Salt. Vanilla. Cream. Cheese. Pralines. Meatballs. "I uh...." He cleared his throat, a bead of sweat slowly trailing down the back of his neck. Just choose, goddammit! "Let me get...." Dmitri's eyes moved frantically from the menu, to the server, hyperaware of the small line forming behind him. The man's fingers tap-tap-tapping on the counter drove him to near-insanity. "...my friend here," He would say as he'd grab the Hufflepuff boy from earlier and pull him to the front of the line, "and give him the honor of o-ordering for the both us, how about that!" He would lean closer to the server and mock-whisper in a conspiratorial manner. "Josh, here, was kind enough to gift me this voucher! Isn't he such a good bud?" That last bit would be said out loud, almost hysterical in tone.

Shoving the coupon onto the boy's chest, he would gesture vaguely towards one of the booths in the store, ignoring the stares he was getting. "I'm just gonna... put my bags down! Shopping isn't what it's cracked up to be—all these heavy bags! Ha ha. Get me something good, John!"

Dmitri would then flee stride quickly towards it and bury his head in his hands in embarrassment.