'Pizza,' says Draco cautiously, poking it with his fork.
'I made it,' Luna beams. 'I'm very good at pizza. Do you like pizza?'
It's all covered in little coloured things, bits of vegetable and meat and gooey pale yellow stuff – is it cheese? 'Do you – eat this often?' he ventures.
'Oh, yes, Daddy and me love it! What about your family?'
'Uh,' says Draco. 'I've never really tried 'pizza'. We were more – veal and champignons, red wine, that sort of thing.' He trails off at the end, flushing a little.
But Luna's eyes are bright. 'Oh, this is your first time to ever try pizza! I think that you're going to really, really like it.' She looks at him expectantly. 'Go on, try!'
Draco looks down at the odd colourful wedge again, and takes a deep breath. It does smell rather good. And Luna's eyes are so hopeful and waiting.
He cuts the tip of the triangle with his knife, and spears it with his fork. But the cheese is melted and stringy and makes long stretchy strands from the plate to the fork. He battles it fruitlessly with his knife before Luna says, 'Just put it in your mouth; you can bite through the cheese.'
So he puts it in.
Melting-soft cheese – tender juicy lamb – hints of rosemary – tang of red onion. Crispy – softish – juicy – melting. It all mingles together and makes something so mind-meltingly delicious that he can only chew and swallow and look at Luna across the table with wide eyes of astonishment as he takes another bite – and another – and another.
The pizza is gone and Draco is happy. Luna is happy too, and everything is right with the world.
'You like it, don't you?' she says gleefully. 'I knew you would.'
Draco just smiles vaguely and rests his chin in his hand.