Disclaimer: Jo owns these kids, which is probably a good thing, since if she didn't there would be way more scenes like this.
A slightly insane giggle popped from between the over-glossed lips of Daphne Greengrass. The other three twenty-somethings sitting at the table barely looked up from their plates.
She couldn't help herself. Even in a restaurant as nice as Circe, when she noticed something like that a laugh was imminent. A waiter cocked his head at the noise, looking as though he fully expected a twelve year-old to be chomping on a filet mignon in the 'private' section. Instead, he got an eyeful of Daphne. She had allowed herself to be dolled up for the momentous occasion and looked more like a sexpot than the often-grungy go-between for dragonologists and the Magical Menagerie's new branch she was on a day-to-day basis. The waiter noticed her laughing. Blaise noticed the waiter's lingering eyes.
"Garcon," he snapped. "Go get me a new gillywater. This one is… unclean."
When the lanky teenage boy had slipped behind the fresh-lily curtain hiding the kitchen, Blaise turned to face Daphne and asked, slightly irritably, "What are you laughing about?"
Blaise's blonde companion flapped a hand at him but continued laughing, her watery gaze directed at Draco Malfoy's forearm. He unconsciously clasped a slim hand over the dark ink adorning his alabaster skin, which only made her laugh harder.
"Daph, whatever it is," said Astoria, taking her hand off of Draco's knee to brandish her glass at her sister, "I'm sure it's not all that funny."
"Yeah," added Draco. He jerked his head in a sort of disapproving nod.
More laughter burst from Daphne. She rested her head on the silver top of the goblin-made table, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears starting to build up out of hysteria. Her shoulders shook in tandem with the tiny giggles tinkling in all two dozen of the patrons' ears. Blaise placed his hand on her shoulder blade, looking over his best friend to try and see what Daphne could possibly be laughing at.
Draco looked distressed, obviously, at the attack on his image. Blond eyebrows knitted together above his steel eyes, Draco took turns glaring at Daphne and looking to Blaise for help. When Astoria turned away to wave off the over-helpful waiter, he mouthed, "Is it my shirt?"
His outfit was rather nice, the two had decided, perfect for his proposal. Maybe Daphne was just laughing at how much of a wanker he had to be to bring two other people along on the night he was set to be engaged.
"I-it's not the sh-shirt," gasped out Daphne. She clutched Blaise's arm for support and hoisted her torso off of the table. Anyone who cared to look got a nice view of her rather awe inspiring, in most males' opinions, chest before she managed to lean back and rest her head on her dark-skinned boyfriend's shoulder. "It's ju-just –"
She lost control again, nose slowly turning red. Still concerned about looking stupid, Draco pushed the wine list at her in an unplanned attack. Blaise shot him a look that was meant to say "she's bonkers" but was interpreted as "we-are-in-a-public-place-do-not-throw-things."
After about a minute of breathless laughter, Daphne regained her composure and instructed, "Just do it now, before we're chucked out."
Draco, eyes slightly wider than usual, turned back to Astoria and started to garble out a question. Only about two of the words we decipherable, 'you' and 'me.' She stared at him, long blonde hair glinting in the fairy lights. Finally, Astoria guessed, "Are you trying to propose, here, Drake?"
A long sigh blew between his full lips. He half-smiled and said, "Er… yes? I mean, yes, I am. Astoria Livvy Greengrass, will you be my wife?"
Over the sounds of Daphne's renewed cackling and Blaise's reluctant chuckles, Astoria gasped and replied, "Yes! Oh sweet Merlin, yes!"
"Ew," said Scorpius, looking into the Pensieve with a tortured expression on his handsome face. "Did Mom and Dad really say that?"
"Unfortunately," said Blaise. He had his feet up on one of the Malfoy's expensive, red-upholstered chairs and his long, ever-muscled torso on their oriental carpet. His godson sat more traditionally on a matching chintz armchair.
Scorpius sat pondering the memory for a moment, then asked, "What did Aunt Daph think was so funny?"
At the same time Blaise said, "I have no bloody idea," Daphne waltzed into the room, dancing to some song playing inside her head, and answered, "You obviously didn't see where your father had the ring for safe-keeping."
"No," said Scorpius. He regarded his aunt with a mixture of curiosity and the reluctance of someone who would rather not know something. "Where?"
"Honestly, it's no wonder your mum figured it out so fast," she said, purposely avoiding the question.
"Daph, just answer the kid," said Blaise. With a smirk, he pulled on Daphne's ankle. She toppled over onto his footrest. Glowering at her husband of almost fifteen years, she cleared her throat and motioned for Scorpius to come closer.
"Don't want your parents to hear," she explained with a wink. Then: "Your dad had been wearing a diamond engagement ring on his little finger all night."
"Oh," said Scorpius, looking slightly affronted. "And mum agreed to marry him?"
An expression of extreme foreboding twisted Blaise's features.
"I know father-son similarities run deep in your family, but please, promise me you'll never wear women's jewelry."
Haha, what? I blame myself.