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?”

Henriette was making her way through the salon, placing a croissant and a hangover potion beside every snoring guest.

then she planted a combat boot into his groin and scampered away again, dodging spells and cackling, and Draco remembered that she was a Black as well as a Tonks.

I am pleased to inform you that it is human on human violence and no mushrooms have been hurt.

I am pleased to inform you that it is human on human violence and no mushrooms have been hurt.

café downstairs has a toffee-coffee panna cotta. Perhaps your soul-mate is a custard

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After all, fire loves her darkness. After all, the sinner loves his angel. Autumn, laughing, dances her leaves into the high skies of her winter. The moon spins in gyre after gyre, chasing his beloved sun.