Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter.

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In Vino Veritas

III. First Crush

Draco scowled as he Apparated to Theo Nott’s flat a few nights after the gala. He didn’t normally accept blind dates; he thought they detracted from his image. But Theo had been called into the Ministry unexpectedly that afternoon to sort out an incident involving three Muggles, a condom-shaped Portkey, and a Fwooper without its silencing spell. He was desperate to find someone to entertain his cousin Amber, who was visiting from California. He had unwisely promised Draco a favor to be named later in exchange for showing Amber about Diagon Alley and taking her to dinner. Draco, who had never before managed to get Theo into his debt, quickly agreed despite the possible detrimental effects on his reputation should the word get out. There was one added benefit to the arrangement—his mother’s friend Elizabeth was still staying at the Manor, and Draco was tired of dodging her attempts to corner him at every opportunity. A date would be an excellent excuse to stay away from home that evening.

Draco’s scowl turned into a smile when Amber greeted him. She was lean and lithe, and her robes showed much more of her well-tanned skin than was really decent. Draco’s smile turned to a smirk as he wondered whether or not she had any tan lines. Perhaps, he thought, he could find out for himself.

Amber giggled as Draco kissed the back of her hand. “You’re not at all what I expected!” she gushed. Draco raised an enquiring eyebrow in response. “I thought Theo’s friends would be as stuffy as he is!”

Draco quickly classified Amber as a sparkling wine from California—bubbly, a little sweet, and not nearly as refined as champagne. But the evening looked more promising by the moment.

“Alas,” Draco said with his most charming grin. “Some of us can only aspire to be so stuffy.”

Draco’s comment provoked the expected laughter, and Amber seemed to relax slightly. He offered his arm, saying, “Shall we?” This inspired yet another round of giggles. Confused and a little annoyed by her reaction to his good manners, Draco made a mental note that he need not try to be funny in order to make Amber laugh—she seemed to do it often enough on her own. But as they side-along Apparated to Diagon Alley, Amber pressed her body against Draco’s, and his momentary fit of pique was forgotten.

The pair meandered through the wizarding shopping district. Draco commented on the sights, while Amber cooed endlessly about how quaint everything was. Finally, they arrived at Chez Henri, a small bistro tucked into a side alley near Madame Malkin’s.

There were a few restaurants in wizarding London that had better food, but none of them could rival Chez Henri’s wine list. Despite this, Draco had not been to his favorite restaurant in months. His dates tended to prefer trendy establishments where they could flaunt the fact that they were with Draco Malfoy. Draco had been quick to take advantage of Amber’s unfamiliarity with the London scene when making their reservation for the evening.

Draco glanced up from the wine list to find Amber frowning at the menu. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Everything is so heavy. It will interfere with my chi. Isn’t there a dinner salad?” Amber asked.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Were women all overly picky? He took a deep breath. “No. That is not common in Britain. Try the sole. It is a little lighter than some of the other dishes, and they do it with fresh vegetables.”

“I guess that will do,” Amber said dubiously. Her smile returned as the waiter approached.

Draco ordered for both of them, earning still more giggles from Amber. Now that she was no longer pressed up beside him and most of her figure was hidden beneath the table, Amber’s constant chatter and childish laughter were beginning to annoy Draco. He needed a distraction.

“And could you please ask the sommelier to stop by when he has a chance?” Draco asked the waiter.

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you now, sir?”

“No, thank you.” Draco nodded and the waiter left him alone with Amber, who took the opportunity to comment on how stiff he had been, his accent, British accents in general, and presumably on other topics as well. Draco couldn’t be sure, because he had stopped paying attention to her. He was thinking about the wine.

There were some new selections on the wine list that he was considering, but he would need to know more before making a decision. He enjoyed discussing wine almost as much as he enjoyed drinking it. And Walter Weatherwax, Chez Henri’s sommelier, was more knowledgeable about wine than anyone else Draco had met.

Draco was so engrossed by the wine list that he almost didn’t notice when a decidedly un-masculine voice said, “Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. How can I help you?” He looked up to find Ginny Weasley standing beside their table, dressed in subdued black robes, her brilliant hair in an elegant up-do. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Weasley, what are you doing here?” Draco asked more harshly than he had intended.

Ginny raised her eyebrows slightly, but kept her composure. She answered, “I was told you asked to speak with me.”

“With you?” Draco’s surprise had left him incapable of intelligent speech.

“You did request the sommelier?” she asked calmly.

Draco was confused. “Yes! But you’re not the sommelier. You’re not Walter!”

“No,” Ginny said, her expression amused. “I most certainly am not Walter. But I am the sommelier.”

Draco was astounded. Weasley? An expert on wine? And at his favorite restaurant, no less? That was unacceptable.

“What…? What happened to Walter?” was all Draco managed to sputter out, though things were starting to fall into place in his mind. Maybe Ginny had been hired as a wine consultant for the gala. That would explain why she had spent so much time talking to people in the tasting room. And she had tasted the wine like a professional.

“Well…” Ginny paused a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “Two months ago, he… er… that is to say, he and his… er… partner… ran… er… moved to Bermuda. He made a rather spectacular exit, from what I’ve heard. Probably spurred on a bit by a few of the better bottles in the cellar.” She seemed to realize from Draco and Amber’s astonished expressions that she had probably said too much. “In any event,” she said, “Walter is gone, and I am the new sommelier. Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Draco said haughtily. “I can’t imagine there is anything a Weasley can tell me about wine.”

Ginny looked as if her patience was wearing thin. “Do you really think that Henri would hire a sommelier that was ignorant about wine? Although I doubt you would believe me, I am highly qualified. More qualified than Walter ever was!”

Ginny’s vehemence surprised Draco. She was flushed with anger, and Draco grudgingly acknowledged to himself that it flattered her. She didn’t get blotchy like her brother Ron did, or ruddy like the twins. The color almost made her face light up. Draco wondered if he could provoke her further.

“I somehow doubt that,” he said snootily.

Rather than explode, as Draco had hoped, Ginny pulled herself together. And then she smirked at him. “Go ahead, Malfoy,” she said. “Try me.”

Recognizing the challenge for what it was, Draco thought for a moment about what questions to pose.

“What is Cannonau?” Draco asked.

“It is the Sardinian term for the Grenache grape,” Ginny answered, rolling her eyes.“True enough,” Draco answered pleasantly. The question had been relatively easy, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that she had answered correctly. “What is the minimum sugar content required in the grapes for a wine to be classified as Trockenbeerenauslese?”

“The requirements vary a bit based on varietal and region, but for Riesling they are all around 150 oechsle,” Ginny answered casually. Draco nodded, somewhat disappointed that she had known the answer. But the true test was yet to come. Any true expert on wine knew the 1855 classification of Bordeaux wines.

“How is Château La Tour-du-Pin-Figeac classified?” he asked.

“It is a Grand Cru in St. …million,” Ginny said simply.

Draco smirked. He had caught her. “I’m afraid not,” he said triumphantly. “It is a Quatrième Cru in the Médoc.”

Ginny’s forehead creased in confusion. She asked, “Are you sure you aren’t confusing it with Château La Tour-Carnet Saint Laurent?”

Draco’s face fell. He had confused the two. He couldn’t believe it. She had managed to make him look like an idiot instead of the other way around as it should have been. The only way out was to scrape together what dignity he still had left. “Very well,” he said with resignation. “I suppose you might know a little bit about wine.”

Ginny smiled at him. “I’m glad that you have seen sense, Malfoy,” she said. “So, what was the reason you asked to speak with me in the first place?”

“I noticed these two new Burgundies on the list,” Draco said, indicating them with his hand, “and I wanted to know more about them.”

“Well, the first is a traditional red Burgundy, with lots of earth and tobacco flavors, and forward fruit. I added the other to the list as a contrast. It is much darker, with accents of blackberry and licorice. You’d hardly think it was made from Pinot Noir grapes. It’s excellent, but scarcely appropriate if you are looking for a typical Burgundy.”

“I think the more traditional wine would be best, especially since Amber is having the sole.” As Draco said this, he realized he hadn’t thought of Amber once since Ginny had arrived at their table. He looked up at her now, and noticed her eyes darting back and forth apprehensively between Ginny and him. In order to atone for ignoring her, Draco asked, “What do you think, Amber?”

Draco had started to turn back to Ginny in anticipation of Amber’s agreement. After all, his dates always agreed with his opinions on wine. So Draco was quite surprised when Amber did not actually agree with him.

“Well,” she said conversationally, “I like White Zinfandel.”

Draco abruptly turned back to Amber, his jaw slack. White Zinfandel? What kind of Philistine was she? He stole a glance at Ginny and saw that her mask of horror reflected his own. But Ginny quickly regained her composure.

“I’m afraid that we don’t have any… er… White Zinfandel in our cellar, ma’am,” she said, with only a hint of contempt creeping into her voice. Draco was reluctantly impressed by her control. After all, he still hadn’t managed to close his mouth. “The most similar wine we have,” Ginny continued, “is a rosé from the Languedoc. It is dry, but redolent of strawberries. Would that be acceptable?”

Amber nodded, and Ginny turned back to Draco. He was surprised by the look she gave him. Her eyes were alight with amusement and camaraderie—they silently agreed that Amber lacked any sort of taste in wine. He also saw sympathy in her eyes. She knew there was nothing he could do but accept the rosé, and she understood just how painful that would be for him. After a moment, Draco said stiffly, “Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”

Ginny nodded and Draco watched as she moved towards the cellar. Then he turned back to Amber, resigned to endure her chatter for the rest of the evening.

Before long, Ginny returned with the wine. She seemed to put more flourish than necessary into the ritual of presenting and opening the wine, and Draco appreciated the sarcasm of it. When she showed Draco the label, turning the bottle with a flourish, he nodded sagely and said, “Ah, yes,” in an exaggeration of the British old-boy stereotype. Amber didn’t seem to notice that he was pretending, which appeared to spur Ginny on. After she presented the cork to Draco, she raised and lowered the neck of the bottle flamboyantly as she poured. Draco smirked inwardly to see that Amber seemed impressed. When Draco tasted the sample, he said, “Oh, that’s excellent!” in his fake accent.

But what surprised Draco more than anything was that the wine was excellent in a way. It was by no means a fine wine. But it was fruity enough to keep even Amber happy, tasting almost exactly like strawberries. On the other hand, it wasn’t at all sweet, so he could stomach it with food. There were also some small hints of other tastes and smells to keep him interested. He was grudgingly impressed by Ginny’s choice. But later, when he received the bill, he was even more grateful—the wine was one of the least expensive bottles of wine he had ever bought, even from a shop. He figured that if he was going to be forced to drink something he didn’t want, it might well be cheap. Now if he could only say the same thing about Amber…

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Tasting Notes:

* In order to extract the juice from wine grapes, they are crushed. In modern times, this is done with sterile equipment, but I think the phrase “first crush” evokes the old methods of using one’s feet. The double entendre of the term might be a stretch for what Draco experiences in this chapter, but I couldn’t resist using it anyway.

* Many sparkling wines are produced in California using the same methods that are used in Champagne, with more or less success, depending on your point of view. Ironically, the word “dry”, which usually means “not sweet” when applied to still wines, means “slightly sweet” when applied to sparking wines. If you want a sparkling wine that is not sweet, look for one labeled “brut”.

* A sommelier manages a restaurant’s wine collection. He or she decides what wines should appear on the wine list, buys and maintains the wine, and is usually on hand to consult with the restaurant’s patrons.

* Draco’s question about Cannonau is slightly obscure. When my husband and I were in Italy a couple of years ago, we got plenty of attention from a wine shop owner when we asked if he had any Cannonau—our question showed that we weren’t typically clueless American tourists. At least not entirely.

* Trockenbeerenauslese is the highest quality sweet wine made in Germany. The grapes are allowed to sit on the vines until they are shriveled and nearly dry. This serves to concentrate the sugars in what juice remains, yielding a sweet wine even after fermentation. The grapes used in these wines are often infected by Botrytis, also called “Noble Rot”, a mold which helps the grapes shrivel. Oechsle is a scale by which the sugar content of a grape is measured; it is used predominantly in Germany.

* In 1855, the producers of wine in France’s Bordeaux region were classified according to price, which was at the time a good measure of the quality of the wine. The classification, which is still used today, is still considered to be a good measure; it has only been modified once in the last 150 years. “Grand cru” is the third level in the St. …million appellation (subregion), while “Quatrième Cru” is the fourth level in the Médoc appellation.

* Most of the red wines made in France’s Burgundy region are made from Pinot Noir grapes. Their characteristics can vary substantially. (The only exception is the Beaujolais subregion which uses Gamay grapes. However, despite the fact that Beaujolais is technically part of Burgundy, if a red wine from France is labeled as “Burgundy”, it is likely made from Pinot Noir. Wines made in California that are labeled as “Burgundy” might be made from any variety of grape at all.)

* Red wines get their color from the grape skins. Rosé wines can be made by removing the skins from the grape juice early in the winemaking process. White Zinfandel is made in this way. It tends to be sweet and simple and has large appeal, especially among people who are new to wine. (It was my favorite at one time!) However, for people who are serious about wine, it tends to be somewhat boring at best and distasteful at worst. Draco and Ginny both obviously fall into the latter category.

* I modeled the rosé Ginny suggests for Draco and Amber after one I actually drank many years ago, which was made from Grenache grapes but was not at all sweet. The Languedoc region is in the south of France.

* The ritual of opening the wine tableside in a restaurant, which may seem overly pompous to some, actually has very practical origins. The custom of showing the bottle to the customer before it is opened and then opening it at the table began because some unscrupulous restaurateurs would pour cheap wine into an empty bottle to pass it off as something fancier. The ritual ensures that the customer gets what he or she pays for. In addition, it is relatively easy for the quality of a wine to be compromised while it is in the bottle. The most common problem occurs when the cork shrinks, allowing air into the bottle which can cause the wine to take on an unpleasant smell of mildew (in this case, the wine is called “corky”). The cork is presented to the customer for inspection, and a little wine is poured for the customer to sample, in order to ensure that this hasn’t happened. If you order wine in a restaurant and it smells like mildew, be sure to tell the server; the restaurant ought to open a new bottle in place of the faulty one.