Ravenclaw, Prefect additional short, "Cake is not a valid excuse", WC: 1055

AU, for sure.

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We're engaged!

The text lights up the screen on my phone, glaring out at me. Two conflicting feelings fill me at once. The first, a positive feeling of joy because Harry and Ginny are the most wonderful couple I've met. And, of course, a little bit of envy. Draco and I have been together, and stronger together, for eight years now. A long enough time to warrant a marriage proposal, you might think. Obviously not.

"Have you seen, Harry and Ginny are engaged?" Draco calls through to the bedroom, toothbrush in his mouth and phone in one hand. He scratches at his t-shirt covered chest with the corner of the phone, grinning broadly. I smile back at him, albeit a little weakly. He spits out the toothpaste into the sink, wiping his mouth with the towel. "That's great news!"

"Yeah," I smile. "Been a long-time-coming, I think." I draw the duvet closer to my chin, already feeling the cool air getting to me through the gaps. Maybe I should put socks on. He smiles back, turning off the bathroom light and flopping into bed beside me, briefly reaching across me for the remote control on the TV I idiotically installed in the bedroom. Draco flicks through the channels, eventually finding a re-run of Britain's Got Talent from a couple of nights ago. "Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Draco hums in response, watching the elderly man trundle on the stage with his trunk hauled along behind him. The man makes a joke, causing Draco to chuckle. I settle deeper into the pillows, glancing over at him briefly before picking up my book in somewhat defeat.

"Subtle," Draco murmurs, laughing again as the man pulls off his corduroy jacket to reveal a lilac bathing suit. "I mean, I guess I've thought about it. Why?"

"Just curious," I mutter back, almost smiling. It's not as though he's enthused about it. We've not really spoken about it before, so why would he have thought about marrying me? That would be ridiculous of me to ask him of that. "I just wondered whether you'd considered it. We've been together a while." I take a sip of my tea, throwing caution to the wind. "I've thought about it."

"We don't have a reason to get married," Draco says simply, sitting up in bed, not looking in my direction. Completely oblivious to the fact that he just stopped my heart. The lights in the room flicker, testament to my panic and annoyance.

"Are you joking?"

"You're not pregnant, are you?" he asks insolently. I scowl instantly, shaking my head. This is ridiculous. "I didn't think so. What's the issue then?" Draco asks this as if I'm some sort of crazy person, wanting to marry the man I love. Surely not?

"The issue is that I thought you might actually want to marry me," I laugh bitterly, getting out of bed and deciding that I can't sit here any longer otherwise there is going to be arguing. And I'd much rather watch more television alone, get tired, and fall asleep on the sofa than have such an awful discussion with him. Behind me, he's spluttering, setting down his tea and pausing the TV. Love is awful, I scowl. "But we don't have a reason to marry, apparently. What the heck does that mean anyway?"

I wrap the nearest dressing gown around me for that extra comfort – whether it's his or mine, I take no notice.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Hermione," he says slowly.

"Why did you say it then?" My goddamn voice betrays me, cracking on the inflection of the question. "Sorry."

Draco rearranges himself between the sheets, sitting upright, hand tugging at his hair. He tries again, saying "because we don't need to get married. I love you, and that's lovely and everything –" at this, I huff loudly, shaking my head in disbelief. "But that's not a reason to get married."

"How is it not?" I wrap the dressing gown tighter around me, heart pounding. "You know what, it doesn't matter."

"It clearly does, Hermione."

We stay like this for what seems like several long minutes. Me, standing beside the bed, chewing on the corner of my dressing gown, uncertain of where to go from here. Him, sitting upright in bed, his t-shirt crumpled from laying down. The lights flickering uncomfortable on the bedside tables, waiting with bated breath. Outside, rain begins to tap lightly against the window, as if asking for entrance into the room. Draco stands up to close the curtains, not quite bursting the bubble of tension in the room. The problem is, I know it's my turn to talk, but I have nothing to say.

"I want to marry you," I say, timidly. "Do you not want to marry me?"

Draco runs a hand through his hair again, seeming to deflate.

"My parents always taught me that marriage has to have a purpose. For gain, or for power, or something else," he begins. "I don't want that. I don't want this to be about gain."

"What about cake," I suggest. "Cake is an excuse." Draco laughs humourlessly.

"Cake is not a valid excuse," he answers, smiling sadly.

"But we could have a lot of really great cake and spend the day with everyone we love. Celebrating love, and most importantly, cake." I swallow thickly, folding my arms in an attempt to feel a little stronger inside. He's smiling, so that's positive. I feel like I'm dying. "Cake is good."

"I love you so much," Draco murmurs, reaching out to me. "So much."

"But that's not enough for you to want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

Burning tears threaten to spill over onto my cheeks. He doesn't respond, but instead reaches into his pyjama pocket. My chest tight, breath frozen, I watch as he pulls out the tiny black box and shrugs, shaking. His face is somewhere between terrified and elated. I'm torn, halfway between hating him and loving him all at once.

"I mean," he starts. "Why would I not?"

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Thanks for reading!