This one is for the Het vs Slash competition by DobbyRocksSocks (BlaiseTheo), the Dance Competition by ASiriusCrushOnMoony (Tap Dancing~ impatience), both of which are on HPFC! Thanks to meh reviewers, I love you all very very much. (Unicorn and Luke yays)

Theodore Nott had been born a week late.

He'd overslept on the first day of Charm School.

He had gotten his first beard nearly a year after everyone else, he had been late to his first date by five hours, but he sure as hell was not going to be late in proposing, and if he was...he didn't want to think about it.

'You've been dating for what? Five years now? Get a move on, Romeo!' Pansy had snapped, stirring her breakfast martini with expertise and skill.

'Er...isn't it a bit too early for alcohol?' Theo asked, eyeing the nearly overflowing glass.

Pansy sighed, one hand on her hip. 'It's never too early for martinis, and it's never early to propose.' Theo rolled his eyes. Pansy had been married three times already, and she was only twenty-eight.

'Now, shoo. I have martinis to drink,' she said, turning her back to him, which was quite a feat, seeing that her kitchen was barely the size of a shoebox. 'Also, you're like, forty-five minutes late for your date,' she added when he made no move to go.

'Shit! Pansy!'

.oOo.

Apparating was easy enough if you were in a relatively calm state, but if you were as panicked as Theo was and decided to try, then, well, God help you.

And so Theo found himself lying down on a bed with two lumps that were starting to move groggily.

'Hermione, I thought we agreed...no more threesomes, not after the incident,' someone who sounded suspiciously like Ron Granger-Weasely muttered.

'Damnit! Sorry! Go back to whatever you guys were doing, I'll be off!' Theo sputtered, leaping off of the bed as if it was on fire as Ron and Hermione Granger-Weasely stuck their heads out of the covers, looking decidedly disheveled.

'Bloody-'

'Nott-'

'Hurryupandproposeyouidiot!' Hermione quickly called after him as he dissapparated with a crack.

.oOo.

Damn. So if even Hermione could tell that he had to get a move on, then he definitely needed to get a move on. 'I wi-' He replied as he was swept away again, this time (purposely) into a jeweler's.

The line was enormous, almost spilling outside the shop, if the shop hadn't been spelled to expand and contract depending on the number of customers.

The jeweler herself was eleventy-one, and moved at a pace slower than Theo, if that was possible. 'N-e-e-ext,' she croaked, and the line moved an inch forward.

Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, goddammit!

The jeweler dropped her glasses, reaching sloooowly for her wand to Accio them back.

Move move move move move-

The man at the beginning of the line had forgotten what he had ordered.

Fuck you, God, you sadistic bastard!

He waited for fifteen more minutes, and when the line hadn't moved, he gave up. Fuck the ring.

What good's a ring for, anyway?

.oOo.

Two hours late, Theo found himself at The Hog's Head.

'One bottle of your finest,' he commanded, although it came out kind of garbled, because well, he was in a hurry, wasn't he.

The bartender gave him a look. 'Finest? Hog's Head?' Theo sighed. Again.

'Just...do you have any firewhisky?'

'...I suppose. How much do you have on you?'

Frantically, Theo grasped inside his pockets, thinking dismally of Blaise waiting at Godric's Hollow, fingers itching to slap his boyfriend's face. 'Nothing. But I'm getting married I think I hope maybe but only-'

'Go away, kid. We don't serve your kind here.'

.oOo.

Godric's Hollow. Blaise wasn't there. Was he supposed to feel saddened, or happy?

'Blaise?' He was aware of how he looked, scruffy and spattered with the bartender's spit, and he had lost a shoe somewhere along the way.

And with a small fizzle, Blaise apparated (should we say stumbled?) into the clearing, falling flat on his face in front of Theo's shoes, looking just as terrible as Theo did.

'Theo?'

'Blaise?'

'Er...'

'You're late.'

'I wanted to propose to you, but I had no ring, and I had no firewhisky, and I didn't know what to do, and-' Blaise tumbled through his words staccato as Theo opened and closed his mouth dumbfoundedly.

'I'm sorry.' Blaise's shoulders slumped.

Blaise was too good to be Slytherin. But Theo wasn't. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I still would say yes, even if your planning was atrocious.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'...You were going to propose today, too, weren't you.'

'No.'

'Idiot.'

'Maybe.' Theo mumbled.

'I figured. You were in front of me in line at the jeweler's.'

Theo laughed. 'Outsmarted by the best. Marry me?'

'Yeah, sure, as long as you tell me I'm the best every day.' Blaise smiled.

.oOo.

And so, Theo was late in proposing to Blaise, but Blaise was later, so it turned out (more or less) okay.