fic: convenient
Aug. 23rd, 2020 07:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: convenient
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1464
Summary: His head is full of thoughts of Astoria.
His head is full of thoughts of Astoria, even though Draco isn't supposed to be thinking of any other woman than the one in front of him at this marriage interview. He could hear his parents and hers talking, but Draco's mind was distant.
He knew she was an heiress of some Chinese magical family, but her name slipped from Draco's mind as soon as he heard it, too distraught by the fact his parents had denied his marriage request to Astoria.
His mother had come hours later, after his father had told him of this interview, sat on the bed with Draco as both pretended his eyes were not red from crying. She patted his back, took the hairs from his face as if Draco were still a child crying over a broken toy. In life, his mother had said, eyes far away, as if she knew what Draco had been going through, we can't always have what we want.
In truth, he knew the reason: Astoria's family, the Greengrasses, had publicly sided with Voldemort. Draco's family had, too, but Harry Potter had put in good word for them, so now they could try and rebuild their reputation - which wouldn't happen if he married Astoria.
So here he was, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a too warm room, with his mind far away from the scene. Draco looked at everywhere but the girl, trying to seem disengaged.
Then, his parents rose at the same time hers did. His mother leant down, and Draco waited for the words of wisdom to come.
"Be nice to her." Was all she said, before leaving. Draco looked at the girl, still veiled.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Were we supposed to do something?" He asked, and the girl huffed.
"Merlin, Malfoy, you're such a dick." She took off the veil covering her face, and revealed that the girl was Cho Chang. He vaguely remembered her from their shared time at school - mostly her crying desperately at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, and then sniffling in hallways during his fifth year -, and he cocked his head.
"Oh, you're my bride-to-be." Cho nodded, and grabbed a tea cup for herself, not even offering Draco any. "So, what are we supposed to be doing?"
"Chatting to see if we are compatible while our parents get their lawyers and draft a possible marriage contract, if we find ourselves a suitable match for each other." She sipped her tea, and the smell wafted to him: sweet, fragrant. A floral tea, perhaps? He didn't know much of the subject. Draco poured some for himself as well. "I'll be honest with you. I have no interest in marrying you."
Draco nodded.
"Yes, neither do I. I can't take someone out of my head." Cho smiled, bitterly so, at Draco.
"Me too." Draco looked at her, confused. Hadn't it been six years already? Cho rolled her eyes at him. "Please, you think grief is so easy to get over with? Merlin, you really never grew up."
A pause. Draco drank his tea, and Cho looked at him with careful eyes.
"So we both have no interest in marrying." She started, slowly weaving words together. Draco nodded, wondering what she was trying to get to. "And I assume your parents won't stop taking you out in these ridiculous pre-nuptial dates, correct?"
"It's my first one, but I assume it isn't yours." He said, and Cho gave a dismissing hand wave. "But yes, I assume that, if this one goes south, I'll be forced to meet whoever else my parents deem a good enough fit for me."
The one Draco deemed fit for himself wasn't available: no, Astoria, last he'd heard, was going to marry one of the Weasley boys through a rather complicated pureblood contract maneuver. He hadn't asked for details, and she'd been cagey about what little she knew.
He hated the idea of someone else being Astoria's lover, but they were now paying the price of their families' wrong allegiances. Perhaps, in another life, they could be together - or even in a few years, maybe.
Draco swallowed the rest of his tea, the burn on his throat a call back to reality. There would be no happy ending for the two of them.
"And we both can't get over someone, right?" Cho drawled, and Draco nodded again. "So how about we get married to each other and end this farce? I can't get over Cedric, you have your mysterious beau, our parents don't force us in more of this ridiculousness."
"Sounds like a deal to me." He put more tea in his cup, drank it slowly. "Are you sure you're not a Slytherin?"
Cho sighed. Draco said nothing.
"Not everyone who thinks is a Slytherin, Malfoy." She replied. The two heard the sound of conversation filtering by, and Cho hurriedly put back her veil. Their parents came in, in obviously an excellent mood, before they collected their children as if they were mere packages.
They were, weren't they? Just tools to propagate a lineage with whoever they wanted.
At home, his mother was the one to prod Draco about the marriage. Draco, who'd been reading some sort of book or another, mindlessly, pretended he didn't know her actual intentions, watching, from the corner of his eyes, as his mother sat on the couch near him, staying quiet for a long moment.
"So, what do you think of the Chang heiress?" His mother asked, cautiously, as if Draco was a potion about to explode. He was, in some ways.
"She seems pleasant enough." Draco replied, as neutral as possible, passing a page of the book. The letters didn't even register on his mind, and honestly, he had no idea what book he was reading. "I could see myself married to her, really."
His mother smiled, pleasant, placid.
"Could you?" She asked, and Draco nodded. "I see you took my advice to mind."
"Yes, yes." A pause, and Draco closed the book, looking at his mother. Her hands were on her lap, one atop the other, the pitch perfect figure of a wife. "Who was the man, in your case? Surely there must've been someone."
His mother smiled softly, longing for someone who wasn't his father. It disturbed Draco, for a moment, to think that he could've been someone else's son.
"He's dead, and I don't quite think it matters anymore." His mother rose, and Draco's eyes accompanied her. "But if you allow me some indiscretion, I think Sirius would've been a good father for you."
Draco choked on his saliva, and when he recuperated himself from the coughing fit, his mother was already gone. He looked at where she'd disappeared from, the empty air greeting Draco back, and he wondered if this was how he would be in a few years.
A shudder coursed through his body. No, his love for Astoria would die with him, just like his mother's love would die with her.
Cho Chang-Malfoy looked at Draco, the salty air of some Caribbean Malfoy propriety leaving both of them sticky as it breezed in through the open window. It was their honeymoon, and the two had been at that place for a few hours, resting of the ridiculousness of the wedding itself.
She had reading glasses on, tiny little golden things, and her eyes were set on a copy of the marriage contract.
"This says we have to produce at least one heir for the Malfoys, and then one for the Changs." She muttered, and Draco, knocking back another glass of wine. In front of them, set in the center table like some sort of decor, an array of fertility potions, a courtesy of a few discrete letters to Pansy. Her eyes were shining more than they'd shone during the wedding itself. Ravenclaws and their love for research, Draco thought, with a roll of his eyes. "So, do you think twins would count?"
They had hatched a very specific plan to get out of the contract necessities as soon as possible - now they were just hammering out the details of it, trying to buy time.
"Probably? Does it get into specifics of gender and such?" Cho glanced back at the contract, reading into it again, before shaking her head. She took off the glasses. "You know, Cho, I might see myself loving you one day."
Cho snorted.
"Stockholm syndrome isn't love, Draco, but I'll admit you're not the worst, as I had thought." She said, grabbing a few of the potions, knocking it back as if it were water. "Let's get this over with."
He nodded, and went to do the same. The faster they got over with it, the faster they could go back to moping their lost loves.