Summary: Draco has wanted to ask Hermione an important question for a long time. Is he too late?
Genre: Romance, Humor
Word Count: 990
Author's Note: This fic was written for the dramione_remix 2014 Mini-Fest. My original couple was Kristoff/Anna, and the inspiration for this ficlet was this scene from the movie Frozen. Thanks so much to Megan, who beta’ed this at ridiculously short notice! Thanks also for the wonderful mods at dramione_remix for hosting such a fun fest! Enjoy!
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Yes
If yes, your Tumblr username: heartsamongstars
Grey eyes watched the redhead stomp out of the Three Broomsticks in a huff, leaving a seething Hermione Granger in her wake.
“What’s with the She-Weasel?”
Hermione glared, brown eyes flashing in irritation. “I’ve told you over and over again, Malfoy, her name is Ginny, and I would appreciate you not referring to her as anything other than Ginny in my presence.”
Huffing, she grabbed her pint from the bar and marched over to a booth in the back corner.
“Fine, Ginny. So what was that all about?”
She sighed and sipped her Butterbeer, an oddly uncomfortable expression on her face. “Blaise Zabini asked me to marry him, and I agreed. Ginny was less than amused.”
She looked away at that moment and missed the way Draco sucked in a breath, looking pained, and tightened his hand so firmly around his Firewhiskey that the glass cracked and shattered in his grip.
She gasped, scrambling for her wand. “Draco, your hand!” Pointing her wand at the red liquid that was pooling in his palm, she murmured healing spells. The blood dissipated until only thin pink lines were visible beneath the soiled napkin. “There, good as new. Well, nearly anyway. It won’t scar or anything.”
He stared at her as if seeing for her for the first time.
“Draco, are you alright? Why on earth did you break your glass?”
“You’re…engaged?” His voice sounded oddly choked.
“Um…yes. Zabini asked. You know the new law. All muggle-borns must marry half-blood or pureblood spouses by the eve of their twenty-fifth birthday. I turn twenty-five in four months, Draco. I’ve hardly any time left.”
Her explanation was met with silence.
She reached for his hand, but he pulled away, his eyes unreadable as he stood. Dropping a handful of sickles on the table, he turned and left, missing the guilty expression on Hermione’s face.
~ * ~
Draco Malfoy paced in front of his fireplace, frowning so deeply that his eyebrows practically touched across his forehead.
He had really thought he would have more time.
Draco had been planning on asking for Hermione’s hand since the Ministry announced the new marriage law. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt’s latest ploy to bring not only unity into the wizarding world, but also an increase in magical offspring. One of the most shocking revelations after Voldemort’s defeat was that many heirs from pureblood marriages had either turned out to be squibs or have very weak magic. That news had been a blow to many pureblood families, so when Shacklebolt announced the marriage law two years prior, he was met with very little resistance.
Draco wanted no one else but Hermione. Seven years had completely changed their relationship, and he fell for her even before the law was announced.
He thought—wrongly, apparently—that she felt the same way about him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the whoosh of the fireplace and telltale green flames. An irate, frazzled witch appeared before him.
“Draco, what is wrong with you?” Hermione sounded more than a little upset. “How could you just walk off like that?”
“How could I, Granger? How could you?” His voice thundered at her from across the room, but he did nothing to control his temper. “How could you be engaged to Zabini, of all people?! When all along I thought that I—” He stopped abruptly, breathing heavy and fists clenching and unclenching in his ire.
“You thought, what, Draco?” Her voice was soft now, almost as if she were trying to coax him to speak.
“You barely know him. He’s practically a stranger to you. And, believe me, witch, Zabini knows nothing about you.” He began pacing again, his voice rising in aggravation. “He doesn’t know that your favorite food is Madame Puddifoot’s rose and lavender tea cakes; or that you despise coffee, but it’s the only thing that wakes you up; or that your favorite color is actually turquoise blue, and not maroon, like your ex, the Weasel, seems to think; or that your eyes change color depending on your mood—like right now, they’re dark brown, which means you’re angry with me; or that your feet are so small you have to charm your heels so they don’t slip off when you walk; or that—”
She stepped in front of him and cupped his cheeks between her warm hands, effectively stopping his rant. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. She was so close, and her cheeks were flushed, her hair frizzy, and her eyes bright. She looked beautiful. He barely heard her when she said, “If you wanted me, you prat, you should have asked me sooner.”
Then she kissed him.
Draco’s head spun. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flush against his and kissing her desperately. Her lips were warm and pliant, and she was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.
Too soon, he pulled away, gasping for air as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Sod Zabini,” he whispered. “Call it off with him. Marry me, Hermione.”
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Actually, there’s nothing to call off.”
Stunned silence followed.
“I’m sorry, but… what?”
Hermione shrugged and played with the blond hairs at the nape of his neck, a secretive grin on her face. “I lied,” she stated simply.
“So, you’re not engaged to Zabini?”
“Why did you lie?”
“You took too long to ask me. I had to get it out of you somehow.”
“And the She-Weasel? She was in on it?”
“Ginny. And of course. The fake argument was actually her idea.”
He stared at her, amazed at her deception, and a smile slowly formed on his lips. “You sneaky witch. There’s some Slytherin in you, after all.” He kissed her firmly, appreciating her moan of pleasure. “I’m sorry I took so long. I’m such an idiot.”
“Better late than never, I suppose.” Her tone was playful, but the look in her eyes was doing funny things to his heart.
“Hermione Granger, will you marry me?”
Her smiled blinded him.