Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

“Shall we carpe this diem?”

They finished with a delightful Muggle invention called Maltesers.

“Yes – of course – you’re right. These are my family rings.” He paused, took a breath, and continued. “And I’d – what I’m trying to say – badly – is that I’d like you to be part of my family. Or – for me to be part of yours. Or for us to make a new one, together – or any iteration you’d like. What I’m trying to ask is – if you’d give it a go with me–”

His voice caught. Now she was beginning to understand. Her lips parted. A few snowflakes drifted down and caught in her hair, on the rose, and left melting kisses on her cheek.

“Potter and Weasley asked me what my – intentions were, with you,” continued Draco. “And I hadn’t an answer – didn’t know I had any. But I do. I want to be with you – in whatever capacity you'll have me.”

Now there were tears in her eyes.

He forged ahead – it was too late to turn back now. “I love you – I adore you – I want us to be together. Together-together. I, frankly, would like to spend the rest of my life with you, but we can do stupid dates first, or a proper courtship, or – an engagement (though I rather think that we got engaged in March, as much as you would deny it) – or anything you’d like.”

She gasped out a sob that was, somehow, also a sound of delight. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes – I am. If you want to – obviously – but I would also be happy simply being with you – whatever that might mean – whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t bloody know – I’m rubbish at this. Something about you reduces me to a blithering fool. I realise asking for the rest of our lives is probably too much, too fast, so–”

“Yes,” said Granger.

“Yes?” repeated Draco. “You – want to?”