Disclaimer: All identifiable characters from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K.Rowling.

Second story in the works. My first effort towards humor. Feel free to leave a review, telling me how you find this fic. My other fic will be updated soon and while you wait for that, read this one and leave your opinion.


A Day For Proposals

Today is, what could be called, one of those days when men my age become extremely nervous and sweaty. Well, that is the impression I've developed over the years. However, it is quite impossible for me to even envision a delusional state such as that for myself or any of my male ancestors for that matter. Mother often says that to complete a man's life it is imperative to have a partner, preferably female for me at least, ready to share joy and sorrow, laughter and tears and everything else which escapes my philosophical line of thought at the moment. And it is time for me to invite that particular partner to my life. You see, today is the day I propose a girl to marry me. You heard that right. The most famous, dashing, intelligent, cunning and sexy man to have ever walked on Merlin's not so clean and green world is ready to be snagged at last from the bachelor market. Yes, that's right, I, Draco Malfoy, am going to be married.


Can you believe that? Hah, as if. I tell you, if you ever have a chance to choose your parents, DO NOT under any circumstances, choose Narcissa Black Malfoy as your mother. Oh… don't be fooled by her Stuart's All Time Sparkly toothpaste smile. The twitching of her jaw muscles, which was very rare for her in the past, is just an easy trap to lure young, innocent, not to mention extremely good-looking men into her wild schemes. Father could never tame her and in his days of royalty when he tried, she might have flashed her hidden fangs and tamed him instead. Evil, evil woman, why did she have to bear me as her son? Now sitting across from her at the breakfast table, I search helplessly for a source of distraction. Lucius Malfoy, popularly known in this house as my father, has already snatched away the only means to hide from the grinning Cheshire cat-like woman before me. He's reading the Daily Prophet. Father never reads the newspaper at the breakfast table and this new habit that he seems to have developed overnight is just annoying the hell out of me. I poke the steaming bacon on my plate dejectedly and try to stop squirming under my mother's penetrating gaze.

"Draco, is something the matter?"

Oh! Did you hear? She is enquiring about my silent musings. Probably cackling in her mind on seeing me as a scared jellyfish. I clear my throat and cut the crap instantly.

"I'm thinking about today evening."

"Oh, how wonderful!!! Are you planning to do it in a restaurant- the contemporary style or is something else on your mind."

Propose in a restaurant? Is this woman insane? Why would I deliberately make a fool of myself in public? Not that I'm a fool…far from it actually. You see, we Malfoys have style and have been trendsetters for generations. Grandfather set the trend of carrying a cane in public and buying separate Dragon hide boots to use in the lavatory.

Father set the trend of growing his hair long enough to be tied into a ponytail as some sort of Death eater fashion. As for me, everything I do is in vogue. So, there.

" Actually, I plan to do it here at the manor, in my wing, of course."

At this proclamation, Father looks at me and shakes his head. Well, what did he expect? I'm tired of fulfilling his expectations. Last time he expected me to take over the "Malfoy business empire", as he calls it. But I ran off to join the Auror Department at the Ministry. Who wants to waste their time sitting in a closed room counting money like a rabid miser? Surely not me.

"Oh! What a great idea."

I was so busy staring at Father that I forgot about Scheming Black Female (SBF) and her attempts to throttle any sweet hope of extending my days of bachelorhood. Sigh.

"Sure Mother, whatever you say."

My father clears his throat abruptly, "When is Miss Parkinson arriving?"

"I have the date with her at seven tonight."

Mother grins at me and I feel like pouting. This is all her fault. There I was, innocently spending my days in solitude, when she gets the idea that I should make a proposal to my girlfriend of the time on the same date as Father proposed to her. She found it romantic. I found it horrifying. Father found it amusing. The house-elves found it…ahem…my point is I did not agree at all. But then SBF uses the hidden weapon of crocodile tears and pleading eyes to convince me that the age of twenty-five is ripe enough to settle down and bear fruits for the future. What she meant by fruits is still unclear to me. So, to summarize my uneasy situation at present, I agreed to her wish. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had my reasons for the same.

Firstly, out of all the girls I have dated in the past five years, Pansy is the only fitting match for me. Not a goddess but not an eyesore either. A bit clingy but then again, it feels good to have someone worship you everyday. Secondly, my marriage to her would be nothing like that of my parents because, even though Pansy is demanding, she will play the role of an obedient wife, fulfilling my wishes, just fine. So, I get to wear the trousers in the relationship. Thirdly, I've known her for about two decades now and know everything about her. I can handle her during all situations and lastly, she is wealthy and a pureblood.

All right, so the last part is quite unnecessary but nevertheless an added advantage to my mother's cause. However, the prospect of spending my life with her is quite unsettling because…well…the key element to lay the foundation of this marriage is missing. Love. But then again, Pansy loves me and even though I've never felt the same way, I know time will cause me to fall for her. Right?


Still, the thought of loosing my status as a bachelor does not please me but I guess the need to satisfy SBF has forced me to agree to all this crap.

The rest of breakfast is uneventful and I'm glad to flee from the table.

"So, Pansy, huh?"

"Zabini, if you do not shut up within the next ten seconds, I'll shove something down your inquisitive throat to make you."

"Relax mate, I'm just checking."

"Are you the matron assigned to look after me that you have to keep a check of the happenings of my life?"

"What are friends for?" he asks rhetorically.

I sigh for the umpteenth time that day. It is already five thirty and the prospect of my fast-approaching doom causes me to scowl at everyone I see.

Blaise gives me a funny look and continues with the babble that he has been spouting for the past hour. He reminds me of a gossiping schoolgirl sometimes. Could have been the ideal son for SBF but all bad things are reserved for me and I'm sure all the divine powers above have a separate magical cocoon reserved for storing all that may lead me to perish in the most gruesome ways.

"Guess what the big talk of the Ministry is today?"

Blaise is bursting with excitement to break the news to me and his gleeful expression lightens my mood…somewhat.

"Not so big, if I haven't heard about it."

"That may be because you were busy sulking about your upcoming honeymoon with Parkinson."

"I do not sulk," I emphasize indignantly.

"Sorry, I meant wallowing in self pity."

"I do not wallow in anything."

"Oh for Merlin's sake! Will you let me tell you already?"

His impatience is a sight to behold. Of the two of us, he is the one with greater self-control and seeing him this way helps me to forget about unwanted words like Pansy, marriage, SBF, engagement, ripe, fruit etc.

Unwanted but unavoidable.

"All right, get on with it then."

Blaise takes a deep breath as though whatever he is going to say is a matter of grave significance.

"Weasley proposed Granger to marry him."

The news is a bit startling because I always thought…

"Aren't they married already?"

He looks at me incredulously, his blue eyes widening in surprise and confusion, like the time they widened when we discovered that Flitwick had a thing for Sprout back at Hogwarts. It had been a likely possibility and both of us had played matchmakers to set them up but tiny Flitwick seemed to be uninterested in Mandrakes, which were Sprout's favorite. So, our brilliant plan involving a dinner in a greenhouse with the Mandrakes serving as background entertainment was flushed down the drain forever. Had we succeeded, Salazaar would have been proud.

Snapping out of my reverie, I see my best friend shaking his head in a dismissive manner.

"Malfoy, you've lost touch with reality. Pansy occupying your thoughts that much?"

"You have no idea…So, how did you know about Weasley's proposal?"

"I saw him do it."

"Spying on Gryffindors, are you?"

"Nah, he did the deed here at the Ministry."

"Are you serious?" What kind of man proposes to his girlfriend in an office? A red-haired moronic, idiotic twit of man like Weasley. How unromantic.

"Trust me mate. You missed a rare opportunity of seeing Granger jumping on that clown in front of everyone."

"She actually jumped him?" It's hard to picture Granger as that sort of girl. Maybe my observations were all wrong. Hmm.

"Err…Jumping as in leaping into his arms by leaving contact with the ground. Not the way you are thinking."

"Well, she might have been over the moon that Weasel actually asked her at last but maybe disappointed that he didn't do it in a library."

Blaise smirks, I smirk back.

"Well, seeing as you share your engagement with Weasley, why not go to a pub and celebrate?"

I consider his offer. Maybe this will be the last drink before the chains of engagement and marriage bind me. What's the harm? A final toast to bachelorhood. Of course.

It is 06:50 now. Ten more minutes and then I make everyone happy. SBF being first on the list. Pansy will be happy too. After about five minutes, a house elf announces the arrival of my girlfriend. I take a deep breath.

This is it, Draco. Brace yourself for the future. I encourage my inner self.


Engagement ring-check.



Absence of SBF-check twice.

Lucius-do not care, do not check.

Argh!!! Enough with the checking. That is Zabini's job. I take a deep breath again. Just to be sure that I'm still alive and doing this. Rotating my shoulders to regain the infamous Malfoy confidence, I walk fearlessly towards the foyer to welcome my future wife into my life.

And house.

Pansy!!! Here I come.

AN: Do tell me what you feel. Constuctive criticism is welcome.