Proposal

"My father's a dentist by profession."

"My father's a looter, fraud, murderer and Death Eater by profession."

"Right...that was...enlightening."

"Oh, save the innocent act for someone who cares, Granger. Everyone knows that about my dad."

"Uh...well...I didn't know about the fraud bit."

"Oh, right, because Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge seem ideally suited to be the bestest of friends?"

"Must you talk in that tone of voice?"

"What tone of voice?"

"That...sneery tone of voice."

"Sneery? That's not even a word!"

"Neither is bestest, you know!"

"Yes, but you're supposed to be the genius around here!"

"Was that actually a compliment? From you?"

"Heaven forbid."

"There. Sneery again."

"Stop picking on my tone of voice, Granger."

"Fine, then, let's start on your hair. That shade's obviously not natural."

"Says who?"

"The entire Ministry! How many Glamour Charms do you use each morning?"

"What vile insinuations! I'll have you know every inch of this perfection is utterly natural."

"I'm sure."

"Hah! Who's sneery now?"

"Malfoy...I'm trying to be patient with you, but honestly...silvery-blonde is not a hair colour that Mother Nature bestowed on anyone."

"I'm part Veela, you ignorant Mudblood!"

"Ah, back to 'mudblood' again...don't you ever have any original insults?"

"I go for the ones that hurt the most."

"That one's been overused to such an extent that the sting's gone out of it."

"Hm...pity. It quite conveyed what needed to be said. A nice little wallop packed into one word. Nice, don't you think?"

"Nice? I could think of other words for it..."

"Granger, I'm sure you could think up an entire bloody thesaurus full of words for it."

"Another compliment from the oh-so-charming Mr. Malfoy."

"You make me sound like my father."

"If you're not careful, one of these days you'll end up like him."

"I shudder at the thought."

"Really? Why?"

"Long hair would look dreadful on me."

"Malfoy."

"You called, Granger?"

"I was being serious."

"So was I. My cheekbones are much too high to be suited to long hair like that."

"- - - - -."

"You just rolled your eyes at me."

"I can't help it...the thoughts running through my mind warranted eye-rolling."

"And those thoughts would be...?"

"My, someone's curious."

"Of course not. I was merely inquiring out of...politeness."

"Politeness? That's a word in your vocabulary?"

"You sound shocked."

"I am."

"I'm offended."

"Good."

"You intended that?"

"Maybe."

"Are you planning to stick to monosyllables?"

"Hmm."

"That's not really a word."

"So?"

"Granger, I'm beginning to feel the first twinges of something in my stomach."

"Love?"

"No. Intense annoyance."

"Ah."

"Say something that has more than one syllable!"

"Why?"

"AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!"

"What? What?"

"Hm. Two words. That's progress."

"If you think so."

"You realize that this conversation is utterly pointless."

"I do. Doesn't it feel good to take a break from all the mayhem and responsibility and intensity?"

"You've got a point there."

"Ah, yes, speaking of points...why did you ask me what my father was by profession?"

"Oh, that. Checking for suitability."

"Suitability? For what?"

"For a marriage."

"With whom?"

"Now you're just being stupid. With me, of course."

"Uh...Malfoy...your father will have a fit."

"That's quite alright by me."

"No, I mean a bloody humongous let's-take-over-the-world-Voldemort-who?-mudbloods-must-die screaming fit."

"Sounds entertaining."

"To you, maybe. But hello? Mudblood here! Slightly concerned for personal safety and that of the world at large."

"Must you be so noble?"

"Blame it on the Gryffindor in me."

"The Gryffindor in you? You dirty girl, Granger."

"You are a filthy reprobate, Malfoy."

"No, I am an impatient reprobate. You haven't answered my question."

"You haven't asked it."

"Oh."

"Wait!"

"Now what, Granger?"

"Why are you getting down on one knee?"

"To ask the bloody question, Granger."

"My, you're doing this the old-fashioned way...down on one knee."

"Would you rather I did it the new-fangled way...hands encircling your throat?"

"You could just do it with your mouth closed, Malfoy."

"Oooh, that brings to mind a wealth of interesting possibilities."

"I meant, ask the question, Malfoy."

"My, my, aren't we in a rush."

"My God! You're impossible!"

"Oh, Granger, I had no idea you thought of me as your God!"

"Malfoy..."

"Yes?"

"Why won't you just drop dead?"

"Because then you'd miss me terribly and I could never live with causing you such grief."

"That's the whole point...you wouldn't have to live."

"You do realize that such back-talk is going to be the source of major problems when we're married?"

"You do realize we'll never be married unless you ask the bloody question."

"Minor oversight on my part."

"And the major oversight on my part would be falling in love with you, Malfoy."

"And that was no small feat, I presume."

"Of course it wasn't...I had to look around your gigantic ego before I could see your pretty face."

"I'll have you know that this is an extremely aristocratic face with absolutely nothing effeminate about it."

"Well, alright, if you insist on being delusional."

"Why is it that I'm suddenly seriously reconsidering asking you the question?"

"Because you finally wisened up to the possibility that I might say no?"

"Preposterous. A Malfoy is never rejected."

"Really? Keep talking like that and you'll be the first Malfoy to be rejected and castrated."

"Good Lord, you're a dangerous woman! Is it wrong that I'm a little turned on by that?"

"I'll say it's wrong! I can understand you being turned on if I was a dangerous man...more your type."

"Granger..."

"You called, Malfoy?"

"I quite lo- - - loathe you, you know."

"And I assure you the feeling is quite mutual."

"That's quite a becoming blush on you, Granger."

"Don't get too used to it."

"Oh, I think I'd like to get used to a lot of things...seeing your ugly face the first thing every morning; insulting you over freshly-squeezed orange juice; arguing about whose parents are worse and what to name our children, who, hopefully, will have my looks. Marry me, Granger?"

"Only if you promise the kids will have my brains and Harry's looks."

"And how exactly do you propose to arrange that?"

"By cheating on you during my fertile period."

"Ah. Am I to presume that's a yes, then?"

"Yes, Malfoy. It's a yes."

"Oh. Oh God."

"What?"

"Our parents are going to have to meet to plan the wedding."

"Lucius better not kill my parents."

"I'll tell him to hold off till after the ceremony."

"Yes, you do that."

"You're going to be Mrs. Malfoy, you know."

"I'll survive."

"Thought you might."

"We won't kill each other at the altar, will we? Because if there's going to be bloodshed, I won't buy an expensive gown."

"We'll see."