WRITTEN FOR THE HOUSES COMPETITION, YEAR 10, ROUND 6
House: Slytherin
Class: Prefect
Category: Drabble
Word Count: 661
Prompt: [Dialogue] "I can't marry you."
Warnings/Disclaimers:
This was meant to be humorous, then my grandmother died.
Draco slid an open, velvet box across the table.
Astoria finished chewing her lamb without hurry, gently laying down the silverware to the sides of her plate and picking up her wine flute for a sip before even looking at the box. Then she picked it up and silently studied the contents for a few seconds.
"Exquisite metalwork," she said. "And it's been in your family for how long?"
"Three centuries." Draco's tone was extremely dry.
Astoria's fine eyebrows rose.
"I'd heard that Lord Malfoy proposed to Narcissa with a six-centuries-old ring."
"My mother's still wearing that ring."
Astoria tutted lightly. She removed the ring from the box and held it between two dainty fingers as she studied the shine of the candlelight reflecting off the central diamond. It was breathtaking.
She sighed deeply and put it back inside the box, closing it firmly and pushing it back towards Draco's side of the small table.
"You could have tried harder," she said.
Draco gritted his teeth.
"It's a goblin-forged, three-centuries-old ring that's been enchanted by a high sorceress and is rumoured to have been worn by the only Dark Lady the Malfoy family ever produced," he hissed.
Astoria waved a hand, dismissing the history of the ring like so much rubbish.
"I don't know what you expect me to say," Astoria started. "Even if the ring wasn't…" She paused, pursing her painted lips. Then she visibly chose to abandon the end of that sentence and stared right at Draco. "I can't marry you," she announced with finality.
Draco jerked in his seat. He picked up his napkin from his lap and threw it over his still-brimming plate, his face a mask of fury.
"If you think you can insult me—"
"Oh, please, Draco. You knew perfectly well I wouldn't agree. I wonder at you for even going through with this farce."
"Farce? How dare you question my—"
Astoria's elegant poise melted off of her rather like she'd shrugged off a heavy coat, and for the first time since they'd sat down to eat, she lowered herself to glaring.
"For Merlin's sake, do you want me to throw my wine glass at you?"
Draco's eyes darted down to said wine glass without his permission. It was still half-full, and Astoria was drinking a red. Draco found it pretty effective as far as motivational tools go. He settled more deeply in his chair and tried to recover his composure.
"May I ask why you won't marry me?" he said, finding it a thoroughly reasonable question.
From the way Astoria laughed in his face, she didn't share his opinion.
"Darling, you're lucky I'm taking your, frankly, lazy and unimaginative proposal as well as I am, but I wouldn't have said yes even if you'd gotten on one knee in front of all the lords and ladies of the Wizarding World."
Draco's pride reared its head, and he sounded offended and somewhat whiny as he defended himself.
"Whyever not?" he asked. "I'm a catch!"
"Draco, you're gay!"
Draco's lips twisted down, but he didn't try to deny it.
"My parents expect—"
Astoria scoffed and drank some more of her wine. It was very good wine. She would almost affirm it was worth the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Give it up, Draco. I'm too pretty to marry a gay man," she said. "I'd be absolutely wasted as your beard."
Draco sighed and gave up the last flicker of hope.
"Pansy would have agreed," he said, pouting.
"Don't be ridiculous, darling. Pansy doesn't need a beard—her parents are perfectly happy with that Romanian princess she brought home."
Draco stared at the tabletop next to his plate. The outrageous idea of abandoning all composure and laying down his head in defeat sounded more and more attractive. He narrowed his eyes and muttered something far from complimentary about Slytherin witches instead.
Astoria laughed.
"Oh please, darling," she said gaily. "Do you think Hufflepuffs would survive your level of drama?"
