"Well, we have exactly"— Draco glanced at the bedside clock —"fourteen minutes till midnight. We have to consummate this marriage before then, otherwise we'll be arrested. So, unless you believe that sleeping with me is worse than spending an eternity with the Dementors, would you please pick a position?"

Draco had made a list of everything he needed to fall in love. She had to be beautiful, and deferential, and from a good family. She had to be someone his parents would like, someone his friends would approve of. But how was he supposed to meet the perfect girl if he kept getting caught up in arguments with Potter's bushy-haired sidekick? Dramione. ONE SHOT.