Two Idiots Walk Into a Bar (Dramione)

Two Idiots and a Tea Party

Draco had spent that afternoon in the Manor library, studying some of the artefacts he had found in Grimmauld Place, using work to distract him from the self-hate and heartbreak he felt consuming him inside.

Lunch had been taken there for him, and the only other being he saw was Jules; at half past three the elf had shown up to tell him his mother had declared it was time to get ready for the Tea Party.

Now, as he sat in the Tea Room, making small talk with each of the twelve witches and their mothers who had attended that day, Her voice echoed in his head every time they giggled and blushed at him for apparently no reason: "The women that go to those things are all dim-witted puppets that will agree to every stupid word you say just because you're rich."

Draco looked across the small table at the girl sitting there, Miss Donovan (or was is Donahue? Daugherty?) was telling him a (long and dull) story about how her pet niffler (named Nosy of all things) liked to dig holes in the backyard and had recently collected gold teeth her mother believed to be from her ancestors.

He schooled his grimace into an amused smile and finished his second cup of tea of that evening, excusing himself and moving around the room again, politely smiling at the women that were looking his way.

"Be it by your looks, your title, or your vaults, they all want you." Granger's scornful voice repeated in his mind.

Well, he should be thankful they all wanted him now; four years ago, being associated to the Malfoy name was not something anyone would wish for.

Only after his father's trial and subsequent death in Azkaban, and Draco's promising career at the Ministry – added to Narcissa's constant presence at fundraisers and charity events, they were able to restore the Malfoy name under a new, improved, light.

Speaking of his mother, Draco made sure to send Narcissa hard stares every fifteen minutes or so – only to make it clear for her how much he hated being there – not that he hoped she'd pity him and call her demand off.

An older woman stopped him and basically dragged him to her table, where he sat and listened to her daughter's story about a trip she'd taken to Brazil.

"They have such beautiful sandy beaches." she said. "And food is served to you right on the shore! They eat corn and seafood by the sea and drink a lot of beer – muggle beer – which I fail to comprehend why, for it's an awfully bitter concoction."

Draco let his mind wander as she went on, telling him how she thought that going to Brazil would be the perfect honeymoon trip.

Is she hinting about wanting to have sex on the beach? He thought with a frown. Disgusting.

Miss Ackhurst, the lady speaking, was just as beautiful as the other women there, he had to admit; and they had all been raised to be perfect little Ladies, not an ounce of academic interest in their slender bodies, more inclined to be spending their Saturdays at social gatherings than reading a book in the library or discussing spell-casting techniques and runic alphabets.

Why couldn't you be materialistic and impressionable like them, Granger? You'd just bat your eyes at me and I'd sweep you off your feet and marry you and be fucking happy, and make you feel like the most loved and cherished woman in the world.

No – as fast as the thought appeared, he dismissed it, for he knew that he wouldn't love Her as much if She weren't her insufferably opinionated and swotty self.

The real problem was one he had always been aware of: Granger was not only too good for him, but also knew him too well; there was hardly anything swoon-worthy about him besides his looks and deep pockets. And She knew that; she as aware he could be a rude bastard – she'd met his past prejudiced self, had watched him at his worst (during and after the war); Draco had no need for secrets near her – he could be his own self and she'd shout at him for being a spoiled little shit – and no diamonds and fancy trips would be able to buy her affections.