Written For:
- Menagerie of Pairings: Blaise/Daphne, (dialogue) "Marriage? Are you sure?"
- September Event: (dialogue) "We need to talk privately." / "Anything you say to me, you can say in front of my friends.", (location) Hogsmeade
Pairing: Blaise/Daphne
Word Count: 415
A Frosty Reception
Blaise watched the group of Slytherin girls from afar as they clustered outside the Three Broomsticks, giggling and gossiping. He had been following them around Hogsmeade for a few hours now, and he was still waiting for Daphne to spring apart from the gaggle of girls so that he could speak to her.
There was something he really needed to ask her. A question so important, that her answer would no doubt change his life.
She hadn't been his mother's first choice. Mrs. Zabini preferred the more delicate features of Daphne's younger daughter, Astoria, and had commented that any children with Astoria would be much more bonny. But Blaise wasn't in charge of his heart, and neither was his mother.
They were in their seventh year now, and with everything that was going on with the war, there wasn't really any time to waste. Rolling his eyes, he began to walk over to the girls. "Why do they have to walk around in groups," he muttered under his breath.
"Hi, Blaise," Daphne greeted politely as he reached the group. The other girls around her tittered and collapsed into peals of girly laughter, and Blaise glared at them condescendingly. They were supposed to be on the verge of adulthood, but yet here they were, falling apart like children.
"Daphne," Blaise always had enjoyed the way her name rolled off his tongue. "We need to talk privately."
Daphne grinned, showing her slightly large front teeth. "Anything you say to me, you can say in front of my friends."
Casting another glance around the group of girls and their smug faces, Blaise resisted the urge to storm away angrily. Daphne was never seen without a gaggle of friends, so it was unlikely that he would ever get the chance to catch her on her own. "Fine," he grumbled, and sank down onto his knee, regardless of the frosty ground which bit at his legs cruelly. "Daphne, will you marry me?" he pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it, showing Daphne the vintage emerald which had belonged to his mother. It was a memoir of her most favourite marriage, she had assured Blaise.
While her friends dissolved into squeals, Daphne arched a dark eyebrow. "Marriage? Are you sure?" she sneered.
"Why would I ask if I wasn't sure?"
Daphne smirked, and took a closer look at the ring. "It's a pretty ring, I'll give you that. Okay, Blaise. I'll marry you."