“Daddy, why is the sky blue?” Aidan glanced from the sky down to his dad, his childish voice still working on words as he sat atop Jason’s shoulders. Jason nearly missed a step as he too looked to the sky, which wasn’t very blue at the moment, with clouds overhanging. “Because...” He smiled and squeezed the little boys ankles that he held on to. “You wouldn’t be able to find the birds if it was black all the time!” Aidan laughed and wiggled under Jason’s hands as he poked his father’s head.

“No! That’s not true! Mummy said it was...” The little boy trailed off as he tried to piece together the rational Fiona mutterings. “Prison... fildered.” Attempting to explain colors was hard enough, and now Fiona was trying to add science into the boy’s head? Jason was glad his son couldn’t see him grimace. “Prism? They say that the color you see is the only color that isn’t there. So it’s not blue at all, really.”

That explanation wasn’t enough for the almost-four year old, who patted his dad on top of his head again. “But why not?” He continued to appease the little boy until they got to the ice cream shop, which was where they had been coming to once a week for a couple of years, rain or shine, whether it was cold or warm outside. He lifted Aidan off with a grunt before setting him down, just inside the door, stealing the red beanie from atop the little boys head. Off came his own before Jason stuffed them both in his jacket, which he unzipped.

It was cold outside, and one might think an ice cream parlor would feel much the same, but... then that was letting logic speak for you. This was magic! Aidan was already at the counter, attempting to peer into the glass that his little fingers could only grasp at. Jason scooped him back up and helped him look down into it. His finger quickly smashed into the glass. “That one, daddy!” Jason looked it over, making a face. “Ok... I suppose we’ll have a cone with a scoop of that, and one with a scoop of chocolate, please.”

He smiled up at the person behind the counter, shifting Aidan a little for comfort.

Contrary to terrible advice, January was a fantastic month for ice-cream. In fact, something about cold weather made it all the more charming. Like being able to eat snow… without the mud, footprints, or questionably yellow streaks. That, at least, was part of the mentality that had kept Fortescue’s in business for so many years. Why eat yellow snow when you could eat something way, way more delicious?

The usual flavors spanned several feet of the glass case, all of the classics, and then some. Then there were the charmed ones: buckets of cold, creamy dessert swirled with tongue-tangoing candies, molten chocolate that flowed like (pleasantly warm) lava in the mouth, little snowflakes that drifted atop their bowls and cones and down throats, tiny winter wonderlands. And, of course, the limited time offers: Candy Cane, Gingerbread Man-ia, and the epic sundae that was New Year’s Resolution.

The line had been short, but steady for most of the day, and now a few customers sat inside, reveling in the warmth of the shop and the cold of their sweet treats. Mothers sipped at teas or cocoas, the more adult-ish fare. Not that ice-cream wasn’t a perfectly adult indulgence: her father would argue that it brought people together like nothing else.

Apparently Adelaide hadn’t been in the right place at the right time to see the particularly attractive endearing togetherness of the wizard and child pulling off layers in the door. That’s what she got for not taking more shifts.

She smiled as the familiar pair approached, and waited patiently for them to look over the case. It could be overwhelming, but then plenty of people knew what what they wanted right away. She had never managed to serve them-- Fortescue's was usually busy, with plenty of staff-- but she they were regular enough that Adelaide remembered them. The kid was lucky: he was inheriting quite the face.

Their taste, however, seemed to differ.

“Frog Swamp, great choice,” she said, her smile widening at the little boy. The lily pads were made of fizzing candies, and the chocolate frogs tended to plot their escapes when the ice-cream melted enough. She waved her wand at the bucket, where an ice-cream scooper appeared and began to ladle a healthy heap of it into a sugar cone. His father might have been right to be wary, for the mess alone.

“And one scoop of chocolate,” she echoed, letting her eyes sweep over the man as she appraised something besides his taste in ice-cream. “Do you want a cherry with that?” Her eyes caught his, curious and laughing. It was a favorite combination. Simple, but so good.

Once the cones had been piled high with their liberal scoops, she held them up like torches. Cold, wonderfully creamy torches. “The boss isn't here to lay down the law,” she admitted, not handing them over. Her father was more likely to give away the cones for free than lecture anyone too seriously. “So if you want some extra toppings, it's a limited time offer.” Because Adelaide's time was mostly spent elsewhere these days. Her brows jumped up and she dared them, amused and a little guilty for addressing the little boy along with his father. If she wasn’t really leaving him much choice, well, they’d picked a pair of the messiest flavors in the case. “You’d be doing us a favor. We’re always looking for new combinations to put on the sundae board. How about Cherry Chocolate Frog Swamp with Nuts?”

Jason’s eyes caught on the specimen behind the counter. He gave her a grin; he’d seen her before, but not often. And not so alone behind that large sea of ice cream. Another shift of Aidan made his arm not so tired. The grin wouldn’t go away - Jason was a sucker for pretty girls. It had been the downfall for many relationships, and the start of ... all of them.

Jason’s eyebrows jumped. “Frog swamp? Are they miniature chocolate frogs?” Aidan clapped his hands excitedly, babbling on about all the options, second guessing himself as he looked down into a bucket of cotton candy blue ice cream with little ponies prancing around. Jason looked down and shook his head. He was all up for trying different things, but... ice cream, he was kind of a naturalist.

Eyes moved from the tubs of questionable sugar loaded pits of tummy aches to the very catching green of the woman behind the counter. A laugh escaped unexpectedly. “A cherry? Does that go well with chocolate?” His smooth lines were broken when Aidan’s hand swept across his face with a swiftness that comes so natural to little boys. Jason pulled his head back and used his free hand to swat the miniature hand away. “Aidan! Calm down, chap.”

Once he had reigned in the little boy by distracting him with one of the ice cream specialties in the case, he focused on the woman again. “I was wondering if Favi finally took a vacation.” The offer for extra toppings, however, caught the ear of a too-curious child, whose head swiveled up to the chocolate as eyes widened in excitement.

“And chocolate sprinkles!” Jason laughed and shook his head. “I was going to try a little whipped cream. Does that go on top of a cone alright?” He leaned over and set Aidan down before pulling his wallet out, grinning. “How do you not eat yourself out of ice cream? I think I’d have breakfast, lunch, and dinner figured out.”

“Miniature and dangerous,” Adelaide promised, and the word was said with enthusiasm. It came with the territory of loving stories, shows, eccentric humans. Her eyes moved from the man’s expressive eyes to his son as she said it, and, for the child's benefit (and to spare his father more indecision), she added, “They’ve never won against a hungry little boy.”

Which might have been a slight stretch of the truth, but customers had to be kept happy. Adelaide was hoping the man would be too satisfied— by treats, cheery atmosphere, helpful staff— to be outraged by a sugary amphibian or two hopping its way over the edge of his son’s ice-cream cone. His fingers would likely already be sticky by then, whether he went for the questionable flavors or the classics.

“Do cherries and chocolate go well? Are you new?” Adelaide asked, raising her own brow. But she smiled at his laugh, the corners of her mouth quivering with amusement. “For that—“ She said, pausing to watch a little hand go flying across his own upturned mouth— “You might need two.”

And one for the child, Aidan.

His father could always pluck it if the kid wasn’t interested.

“Who, dad? Vacation?” She asked, as if the words were foreign together. Of course, she’d adopted her own word for Favi— and his her surprise that this wizard with the nice scruff knew him. Most people did. Favian Fortescue was half of what brought people back. The ice-cream was addictive, too. Her smile became a little softer. “He is on holiday, for once. He never stays away from here too long. I’d say he doesn’t trust us, but he’s maddeningly trusting. He and Mum went to Brighton. In January.”

Which she supposed was about as brilliant as ice-cream in January. They could make it work. (And if it got her mother out of London…)

She liberally spooned the chocolate sprinkles atop the wonderful green monstrosity that was Aidan’s order— this time by hand. “Oh, it’s great. You just want to plant your face in it.” Her eyes flicked up, met his, and then she was looking down again, adding a few more sprinkles. And a cherry, as promised. “One too many brain freezes as a child, and you swear off it… at least for a week.” She looked back up, showing off her hand work. “Never too long. But I do try to balance my meals where I can.” Late night take out, to stay awake while she poured over work.

She came around the counter with Aidan’s cone and handed it off before she’d even begun decorating his father’s. “Taste before age,” she said, and then circled back around the counter, not paying much mind to his wallet. Her father might have chastised her sweetly for completing half an order, but Adelaide was working hard to keep these customers. Her skills were a little rusty, just a tad, and she owed the shop a little family dedication.

She looked over her shoulder as she busied herself with the contraption that doled out clouds of homemade whipped cream. “It’s actually a great way to get kids to beg for broccoli, making your living as an ice-cream man. You should try it sometime. Assuming you don’t work for the competition…?” She waited for him to supply a name. Carefully, very carefully, she turned with the cone in hand and plopped the cherries on top, one, two. Triumphantly, she held it out.

Jason could only imagine how wild and free a whole box of miniature chocolate frogs could be if accidentally spilled or let loose. One could only hope it was more in the winter and less in the stifling heat of summer, where they would leave little chocolate bread crumbs as they hop to freedom.

Aidan was enjoying the attention as much as his dad would. He grinned, all his baby teeth showing, tilting his head in that adorable innocent way, finally patting himself and nodding. “I like frogs.” Jason could only imagine how Aidan’s mum would react to frogs being let loose in her library. The thought almost made him laugh, but he kept the easy smile on instead.

It seemed even his son knew how well they went together. He let out an exasperated sigh and wiggled this way and that so he could get a better view of what was around them. “Cherries are... are...” Aidan began sprouting off about knights and dragons and cherries. Jason cocked an eyebrow and laughed softly, hushing his son (and attempting to calm his imagination). “I suppose they do put cherries on top of sundaes, so it’s not as far fetched as I thought at first.”

Holiday in England anytime in the winter was always a head scratcher, but Jason could also see intelligence in the idea. “At least there won’t be as many tourists to bog down their time away.” He couldn’t imagine the beaches being full of young adults and children.

Jason’s eyes trailed to the sprinkles, his eyes going almost as big as his eager son’s, though Aidan was more expressive with a sharp intake of sound at all the wonderful minuscule speckles of sugar stuck to the ice cream. The easiest thing after ice cream was a stop at the park, where Aidan could run himself straight into a nap.

Wait... Jason met her gaze, hearing the words, and wondered if she was taking the mick out of him or if she was flirting. It wasn’t very often he thought about whipped cream in any decent way... He swallowed and smiled, not sure if he was grateful for the conversation change or - no, it was probably best. “You must have some strong bones, though.”

He realized after how awkward that might sound, by itself. “Because of all the dairy.” He stumbled over himself as he tried to make it sound appropriate. His cheeks were heated; he hoped someone would think it was just the warming up inside after walking in the chill of winter.

Aidan’s eyes widened as he accepted the cone. Jason nudged him with his knee. “What do you say?” It was a quiet undertone, but a reminder nonetheless. Aidan quickly grinned and looked up, “Your welcome! Oh, I mean, uh... thank you!” He immediately took a bite out of the side of the green-chocolate sprinkle mountain of a scoop, ice cream already making its home on his cheeks and nose and chin.

Jason just had to remind himself there were napkins and a bath later. Because right then, there was a young woman focused entirely on whipped cream. “Beg for broccoli?” He was incredulous. Carrots, sure, most kids loved that. Corn, who didn’t? Broccoli, on the other hand, was something kids either hated or loved. And he had yet to meet one who preferred broccoli over the option of dessert. He laughed at her hesitation. “No, I’m a healer.”

He fished around and pulled out more than enough to pay for ice cream, offering it over in one hand while using his other (once the wallet was stuffed away) to accept his ice cream. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Jason.” He gave her a big grin before glancing away towards Aidan, whose face was covered in green and sprinkles. One of the miniature frogs was nestled in his hair for now. “Thank you so much, he’s happier than a pureblood getting their letter.” Jason dropped some of the change into the tip jar, meeting her gaze again.

He took a bite off the top, mostly of the cherry and whipped cream, making a bigger mess than expected. His free hand grabbed for a napkin, assisting with cream that his tongue couldn’t get off. “Hah, oh, that is delicious, you were right.” Jason stepped back and moved Aidan over towards a table. “Come on, kid, let’s sit down.”

It was a funny juxtaposition, the little boy’s imagination and his father’s analysis of dessert’s magic. “Not far-fetched at all. You just need more sundaes in your life.” Didn’t everyone? Even if Adelaide wouldn’t advise the breakfast-lunch-and-dinner plan. Mostly because the sugar crashes would prevent anyone from getting anything done. Protein was a not-so-secret weapon. That had become especially obvious as she raised a puppy, of late. But the closest she’d got to raising a human was babysitting a brood of adult writers; she couldn’t imagine the culinary requirements of parenthood.

He’d obviously kept mostly intact, judging by his appearance.

“That was their reasoning. That, and summer is the height of ice-cream season, so it’s impossible to leave this place. Prying my mother away from theater row is hard enough, too.” All drama. But Ada knew she was secretly pleased to be away with her sweet tempered husband, however much she complained about quaintness.

Strong bones. Something about the wonderful phrase matched the peaks and glimpses of the man’s personality she’d had so far: the mild questioning, the sweet logic that seemed to balance and match his exuberant son. Mostly, though, the words were hilarious taken on their own, or especially in the context of cherries, whipped cream, and face-planting. How had this customer escaped Adelaide over the months? He was much more pleasant than the 80-year-old wizard who always ordered a bowl of vanilla topped with corn nuts. She’d have to spend less time worrying about deadlines and more worrying about the punctual visits of the faithful ice-cream enthusiasts.

“Yeah, whipped cream gives you a work out,” she said, and then held up a dripping-clean ice-cream scoop as he elaborated. She smiled, showing teeth, a strong white glow to compliment his blush— and his theory. Adelaide didn’t always deal with such logic on the day to day. “So that’s where you were going with it…” She gave the scooper a wave. “Because I was thinking about all of this heavy metal we have to lift. If I quit my day job, I’d be fit as my dad.” Only her day job was a night, midnight, strangest bits and bobs of the day job.

The child’s thanks earned a happy laugh; if all of the customers were so pleasant, she might seriously consider taking over for her father, whom she knew wanted her to. (Still, though, not much could keep Adelaide away from pouring over parchment.)

“I might have exaggerated a little—” An easy admission. She loved a bit of drama, but she didn’t keep her head in the clouds. (Face-planting cream, aside.) “But I didn’t mind broccoli so much. It was no cherry pie ice-cream, but it was… novel.”

A healer. Uh huh. It made sense. All classic flavors, bone density, and keeping the kid from barreling into the glass case of semi-frozen sweet treats.

Adelaide didn’t keep company with many healers, but this one was more interesting than her own.

“So you hit the books hard? We have something in common.” Jason. She smiled again, and took the money as the cash register dinged. She handed back a healthy handful of change, wondering if he always used so much to pay for ice-cream. “I’m Adelaide— and proof of your Hogwarts letter theory.” Her eyes seemed to smile along, and roamed from his face, past the tip jar, to the child. She’d loved getting her list of books, but she supposed a menu of ice-cream was more inviting.

“And you, Jason, are proof of mine.” She tilted her head down and back up, a gesture with eyebrows to match. “It’s fun, isn’t it, diving in?”

She watched them depart, and then looked toward the door, where no new customers were toiling for the moment. It seemed as if the snow was picking up, the streets emptying. Adelaide hadn’t had a break yet, though she wasn’t one to laze about too much. Making her decision, she reached for the scooper and started to fill a little bowl. As she topped it expertly, she looked back up at the pair. The chocolate frogs were giving them their money’s worth.

As she rounded the counter again, she took another fist-full of napkins, blindly, and held them like an offering as she approached the table. “See, eventually, you can wear a white shirt like mine. But you’ve got to work up to it.” Her t-shirt and bright pastel pants were a summer warm combination that had abandoned coat, hat, and scarf in a corner. Her eyes moved from Jason, to Aidan, and back again. Once she’d gifted them the napkins, her freed hand lifted the plastic spoon that had been clasped by the other against her ice-cream cup. “If you sneak about it like this, the frogs don’t have a chance,” she told the little boy, and dug into the mountain of whipped cream.

"So you two know my dad well?” She asked, before taking a healthy bite. She smiled around the spoonful, and her eyes caught another familiar pair a few tables over. She tossed them a nod as their faces assured her they were enjoying their treats.

“Maybe sundaes on Sunday.” That had probably been said more times than even Jason could count, but at that moment... he felt like he owned it. Not that he was going to ask the ice cream shop worker. He wondered, briefly, how often jokes were made about ice cream, aside from the obvious innuendos that people could come up with.

Jason nodded in sudden understanding - he hadn’t even put ice cream and summer together, because... here he was, having ice cream in January. Not that he wouldn’t have, it just hadn’t clicked. “There is always something to watch.” Not that he had gone to many plays or performances in his time. He was more of a museum and seminar type of guy, which was partially why his first marriage had worked so well.

Until it hadn’t.

He laughed as he looked to the scooper. “How else would you advertise for job openings? Work your summer away for free ice cream and ripped biceps!” She had a job other than the ice cream store, then. He wanted to ask her about it. Jason really wanted to ask her a lot of things, actually, but... she was working, he had a son, and just because she was being friendly didn’t mean she wanted to be bothered with half a dozen questions about her life.

“I still have a hard time getting past broccoli. Zucchini, on the other hand...” Jason would’ve been happy as pie to eat pie all the time as a kid. Now, as an adult, he understood why he wasn’t allowed, but the thought still pulled at some immature part of his soul. Sometimes, dessert for breakfast was exactly what the healer ordered.

“Oh? Do you enjoy reading?” Not that Jason had the most enthusiastic reading list. There were still journals he had to peruse when he finally had a free weekend to himself, stacked on his coffee table as a reminder.

Adelaide. “That’s a beautiful name.”

He had a mouthful when her question came at him, and all he could do was smile (somewhat, thank you ice cream) and nod.

Jason was pleasantly surprised when she made her appearance once again. This time his mouth was not full of whipped cream and he accepted the napkins with a “thanks.” He took a moment to wipe any excess ice cream from his face before leaning over and getting a little off Aidan’s nose. The little boy waved his dirty hand between them, wanting to enjoy his treat before clean up.

Aidan was more keen on taking advice from an ice cream aficionado. Jason took the moment to watch Adelaide while he had another bite from his cone. His son focused his energy on the frogs that seemed to be hopping around his dwindling ice cream scoop, beginning to use his tongue like a spoon, going around the side as stealthily as he could.

Jason had his own tongue out, shaping the side to prevent unnecessary drops. He stopped and wiped at his face again, chuckling. “We know him as the ice cream man. He’s usually part of our weekly ice cream trips, anyway. Just something that we both can enjoy. And now I can have mine all to myself again.” Once Aidan was able to hold his cone without dropping it right away, he was allowed to have his own.

“Does he usually keep you locked away in the back?” Jason picked off one of the cherries and popped it in his mouth.

Adelaide grinned at the nerdy pun— the sort of play on words she could appreciate, given how she made her (other) living. “Two times a week, then? I think that’s enough to become an expert, eventually. You might even get me sacked and take over, if Favi loves you enough.” Which wasn’t hard. He loved everyone, and this guy was… an exceptionally pleasant customer, so far. Adelaide might have considered covering more shifts if they were all like him. “I mean, you’d have to get over that fear of chocolate frogs in your ice-cream, first, but...” Her brows jumped up again, daring him a little. He had the sort of mouth that would look good eating any sort of sundae, luckily.

There was always something to watch in London, but Adelaide was of the firm belief that it was nice to get away from it all once in a while— that there could be an equally engaging adventure out in the middle of the country or across the ocean. Maybe the pace was different, maybe it presented itself differently, but there was bound to be entertainment elsewhere. Her mother was simply stubborn, one of the many dramatic types Adelaide had become accustomed to coddling or tiptoeing around behind the stage curtain.

“Honestly? 'Work your summer away for free ice-cream,' period. And a bit of money. That part does it, strangely.” The biceps were a gamble: it was easy to pack on the soft tummy as it was to earn rock-hard abs shuffling heavy batches of ice-cream to and from the kitchen. 

“I think we have a zucchini bread flavor.” She gestured to down the case, at the far end, only half kidding. "For healers who don’t like healthy broccoli sorbet.” Which might not have existed, but there were some scarily close experiments.

“I try to enjoy it, since I’m publishing agent,” she laughed. “This is just my disguise.” She gestured to the white, apronless shirt. The ice-cream gig around here was uniform optional. Her father had been known to go all out: striped robes, like a candy-cane, and a hat to match. “Though my name’s always been the same.” She smiled at his compliment, as if it were about something other than the name she’d been given at birth.

She was still grinning when she rejoined them with her own dessert. Napkins were a perfectly legitimate excuse. Somehow they were always preferable to a wand clean-up. Like the stickiness and melting sugar were earned, and the challenging clean-up was part of the fun. Jason, though, seemed to be a little more methodical with his licking than his chocolate-frog-battling son.

“I’ll have to mention you to him. I’m sure no one could forget that face—” Her eyes lingered on Jason for half a second before she gestured to his son, who was obviously enjoying the treat he’d just been handed again.

“He should, shouldn’t he? I’m a bad influence with cherries.” She watched one disappear into his mouth and wondered whether she should offer more— she knew how good they were with chocolate. “But no, I just haven’t been able to work as many shifts as usual. He miraculously trusts me with the customers when I do manage one” she said, a laugh in her smile. “Probably because I’ve finally got a few crazy customers published.” Or because he was a huge pushover for Adelaide, and always wanted her to be more involved. “I guess we’ve always just missed each other. I’ll hold you to that sundaes Sunday, now, though.”

“I’m sure this little guy wouldn’t mind that.” Jason had no desire to work behind an ice cream counter all day. The fear of constantly getting sticky from it... left little to be desired for the healer. “It sounds like there are too many requirements. I don’t think I’d make the cut.” Jason grinned nonetheless - that would be a mighty fear to try and work through. He wondered what Fear of Chocolate Frogs would be if it were a phobia.

Jason could imagine they had little trouble finding summer help. Or holiday help, for that matter. Free ice cream and get paid for it. It was very easy to see why some teenage boys would jump at the opportunity, if she was here more than every blue moon. “Zucchini bread... ice cream?” He was skeptical, glancing down where she’d pointed. The verbal stab made him laugh, eyes rolling. “As delicious as that sounds, I think I’ll stick to non-vegetable ice cream flavors, thank you.”

He looked over the shirt that she so aptly pointed out. “You should have a mask too, then. Publishing Agent sounds important too.” A little more than just a helpful daughter. She was a bit of an enigma. Jason always did like puzzles...

A laugh echoed her gesture. “It’s usually more covered in ice cream by now.” Aidan was in heaven, trying to corner two chocolate frogs before he caught them between his teeth, munching away happily.

Jason felt his stomach flip and flop. Cherries were alright by him. Thankfully he didn’t choke on the one in his mouth, chewing it thoroughly just in case. She must have a busy schedule, working at her father’s shop when she could, publishing people... for a real job. He didn’t really know what that entailed, but... it sounded like it was going well, if she’d published a few! Crazy or not.

After swallowing his bite, he grinned and nodded. “Sunday it is, then.” The little bell rang at the door; he turned his head to look to it, a small group of pre-Hogwarts kids shuffling in. Already the noise was louder than before, laughs and shouts coming from them. Jason looked back to Adelaide and gave her a sympathetic smile, though she did seem to enjoy herself behind the counter. A natural ice cream server. “Duty calls?”