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bookishwenchI never did wind up posting my offerings from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dramione_ldws in the last round. Hence, I'm going to pop them into my journal over the next few weeks. This one was from the warmup challenge from April 20, which needed to involve the term commitment, be written from Draco's point of view, and be exactly 350 words long. This one won the challenge.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made from this work of fanfiction.
Indecisively Yours
“No, I’m not!”
I was aiming for a mature, calm statement of fact. Judging by Hermione’s expression, I sounded more like a five-year-old with his hand caught inside a box of Ice Mice before dinner.
“Draco, the only thing you’re not terrified of committing to is your weekly Quidditch game,” she said, giving me a look worthy of McGonagall.
“That’s preposterous,” I retorted, modulating my voice better this time. “I’ve committed to many things.”
“Such as?” she said, crossing her arms.
“I finished my training as a Ministry barrister,” I said.
“After you tried and got tired of medicine, banking, teaching, running an inn, managing a potions emporium, and farming plimpies,” she said, ticking each of my failed career alternatives off on her fingers.
“I’ve been Blaise’s friend for fifteen years,” I said, firm in the knowledge she had no response to that.
“Except for the five years you spent not speaking after leaving Hogwarts,” she said.
By this point I was getting a bit nervous.
“I dated Pansy four years. That’s got to be a record,” I said, desperation creeping into my tone.
“Then the moment she started buying Bridal Weekly, you promptly fled,” Hermione said.
“Can you blame me? I mean, it was Pansy,” I said, shuddering. “Also, who in their right mind gets married at bloody eighteen?”
“Ginny, Molly, Arthur, Harry’s parents, Fleur,” she began. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“Look, she wasn’t the one, all right? She wasn’t— she didn’t have— she was lacking in—,” I stammered, looking for the right words.
“If the completed phrasing of those statements involves use of the word ‘rack,’ I am leaving,” she said.
“No!”
Well, actually yes, but I wasn’t telling her that.
“Then what?”
“She wasn’t you,” I finished lamely. “The idea of being with you doesn’t terrify me. Thinking what my life would be like without you does. I’m serious, Hermione, I really do want to marry you.”
She stood there for a few moments, then nodded.
“That was the correct answer,” she said, smiling.
And that was how I proposed to your mother.
dramione_ldws in the last round. Hence, I'm going to pop them into my journal over the next few weeks. This one was from the warmup challenge from April 20, which needed to involve the term commitment, be written from Draco's point of view, and be exactly 350 words long. This one won the challenge.Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made from this work of fanfiction.
“No, I’m not!”
I was aiming for a mature, calm statement of fact. Judging by Hermione’s expression, I sounded more like a five-year-old with his hand caught inside a box of Ice Mice before dinner.
“Draco, the only thing you’re not terrified of committing to is your weekly Quidditch game,” she said, giving me a look worthy of McGonagall.
“That’s preposterous,” I retorted, modulating my voice better this time. “I’ve committed to many things.”
“Such as?” she said, crossing her arms.
“I finished my training as a Ministry barrister,” I said.
“After you tried and got tired of medicine, banking, teaching, running an inn, managing a potions emporium, and farming plimpies,” she said, ticking each of my failed career alternatives off on her fingers.
“I’ve been Blaise’s friend for fifteen years,” I said, firm in the knowledge she had no response to that.
“Except for the five years you spent not speaking after leaving Hogwarts,” she said.
By this point I was getting a bit nervous.
“I dated Pansy four years. That’s got to be a record,” I said, desperation creeping into my tone.
“Then the moment she started buying Bridal Weekly, you promptly fled,” Hermione said.
“Can you blame me? I mean, it was Pansy,” I said, shuddering. “Also, who in their right mind gets married at bloody eighteen?”
“Ginny, Molly, Arthur, Harry’s parents, Fleur,” she began. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“Look, she wasn’t the one, all right? She wasn’t— she didn’t have— she was lacking in—,” I stammered, looking for the right words.
“If the completed phrasing of those statements involves use of the word ‘rack,’ I am leaving,” she said.
“No!”
Well, actually yes, but I wasn’t telling her that.
“Then what?”
“She wasn’t you,” I finished lamely. “The idea of being with you doesn’t terrify me. Thinking what my life would be like without you does. I’m serious, Hermione, I really do want to marry you.”
She stood there for a few moments, then nodded.
“That was the correct answer,” she said, smiling.
And that was how I proposed to your mother.
