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The Rhythm of Tradition

This one is tall- thank Merlin for that; the short ones were always annoying to dance with. Her hair is a honey blond, and she is the first one with any sort of fashion sense. Her robes are a tasteful blue that bring out her eyes, but Draco is just glad she chose a color other than pink.

His mother is determined to find him a proper witch to marry and his father insists that all the rules for a pureblood courtship be followed. This one is number eight or nine. To be fair, she is quite pretty, but that meant nothing. The pretty ones generally bored him faster than the ugly ones.

He takes her hand and kisses it, as tradition calls for. She gives him a polite smile, and in return he offers his arm and leads her to drawing room. All of these courtships follow the same rhythm. First, Mother invites the family for tea. These were dry occasions filled with pointless talk, where the girl always takes a sip of the sugarless tea and forces a smile. Draco envies his father, who usually manages to excuse himself from them.

Tea is followed by several extravagant dinners where Draco always ends up sitting next to whoever the girl happens to be. The bold irritate him with their meaningless chatter, while the shy ones force him to make his own conversation.

Then comes the parties. Draco has always thought his mother should be given an award for coming up with an excuse for a party. Long, dull parties where he would be forced to ask the girl to dance. The ones that can dance drag him across the floor all night. The ones that can't dance believe they can, and he gets dragged anyway, albeit in a more literal sense.

Draco generally puts his foot down after the dancing

He knows what's supposed to happen next. He's supposed to take her out- dinner, just the two of them. He is supposed to spend more time her company-willingly. They're supposed to go on long walks and take picnics and play games of chess. He would show her the world- his world at least, and hope that she might want explore the rest of it. He doesn't think he would be able to find love this way, but he has given up on that. Companionship is what he hopes for, or even friendship.

Draco pulls himself out of his thoughts. Across from him, Astoria Greengrass takes a sip of tea. She makes a face at the bitter taste. Only Draco notices, and he raises his eyebrows toward her. Astoria merely rolls her eyes.

Draco grins.

A/N: Short and sweet. Originally written for MNFF Weekly Drabble challenge under the prompt of Courtship. Hope you enjoyed!