I'm not to fond of this onee, just something I've had for a while. Read and enjoy, anyway!
"Draco Malfoy." Draco was at the opening of a club in Diagon Alley. Ever since the war was over; he had become a total party boy, so this was a normal thing for him. His mother says he was afraid of commitment, but Blasie said he was his only friend that knew how to party.
He scanned the crowds, but he didn't see who called his name. Maybe he just imagined it; the person said it during a loud electric guitar solo. When he turned to the left he saw someone he thought he'd never see at a place like here. Little Miss Perfect; Eleanor Ashworth. "Why the Hell," he walked over to her, "is Scarlet O'Hare at Witch's Wands?"
Eleanor rolled her green eyes. Damn, Draco thought, what is she wearing? Instead of flowing robes and dresses, she had on a skin tight cocktail dress. It was redder than her flaming hair, which is redder than any Weasly's. "Well, Mister Malfoy," she drawled in that rich southern voice that labeled her as a 'Southern Belle', "It just so happens a colleague of mine is a marryin' 'morrow, so I am accompanying her on her bachelorette party," she replied, smooth as always.
"Well, Red, why aren't you wearing those turn-of-the-century robes?"
"You see, Mister Malfoy, I have since moved out, so those dreadful dresses Mother made me wear are burned. I haven't worn a single one since the War," she replied, while taking a sip of the white wine in her glass.
"Then why are you still talking like that?" he asked, doing more than sipping his fire whiskey.
"It seems to make you uncomfortable, which is very amusing to myself," she smirked at the man, something he'd never thought he'd ever see.
"But why do you work with people in England?" His eye brows rose when the woman gave a half hearted laugh.
"I don't. I find that I get into places free if I follow them around all night," she told him.
"You sure have changed," he muttered.
The red head rolled her eyes. He sure hasn't, she thought. "Well, you are still the commitment less playboy I remember from my teens."
"I don't see a ring on your finger," he retorted.
"For the past four years I haven't found anyone but pigs, fools and jerks."
"We dated three years ago," he told her, while her sly grin appeared again.
"Care to show me I'm wrong, O'Hare?" she asked the blond, putting a graceful hand on his shoulder.
"Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at seven."
She put her Belle face back on and smiled at him, "why, Mister Malfoy! We'll make it a date."
It was exactly a month and a half after their date, which went wonderfully perfect. They now were strolling Diagon Alley hand in hand. It only took Draco a few days to see she had in fact changed. Her mannerly talk was lost, only used in public, she had a image to uphold.
"Love, remember Witches' Wands?" Draco asked her randomly.
"'Course I do, that's where you kept thinking I was Scarlet O'Hare," she replied. The club had, to some people's disappointment, closed down after only two weeks, and now it was a robe store.
"Yes, but that was also the first time I saw you in three years. I was so shocked that a lady like yourself would have changed. That's what I love about you."
"Do I smell commitment?" she asked, then turned and gave him a peck on the lips.
"About that…," he fell to one knee. Eleanor covered her mouth with her hands. This playboy was going to try to marry Scarlett O'Hare. "Will you marry me?"
Scar-I mean Eleanor stood in shock, but came to her senses, "yes, oh god, Draco, yes!" He stood up and twirled her around, kissing her passionately while doing so.
That proves that Southern Belles can love the likes of a Malfoy.