Chapter Text
"FATHER!" Draco threw the doors to his father's study wide open, hair frazzled and slightly breathless from a chance encounter with a savage peacock.
"Yes Draco? I'm quite busy." Lucius just continued scowling at the documents in front of him, slowly swirling his wine glass with one hand.
"You have a letter." He thrust his hand forward, and the older Malfoy's eyes cought on the green seal of Slytherin house adorning it.
"Thank you for bringing this to me. Stay for a second. We'll see whether or not you'll need to fetch your mother."
He took the letter and gently opened it with his peacock feather shaped letter opener ™, taking a sip from his drink he began to read.
This prooved to be a very bad idea as not even a second later he spat out his wine directly onto the floor.
"HE WHAT NOW?" His already snow white complexion somehow managed to get even paler as he read on.
Finally, after an excruciating two minutes, he closed it.
"Well? What is it?" The younger blonde nervously eyed the offending piece of paper. What could it have been that managed to shake his father up so terribly?
"It's... It's an official request for my permission to court you. From Harry Potter."
"A WHAT FROM WHO?" Lucius just handed over the letter to his son, in which, clear as day, it stated that THE HARRY POTTER was interested in COURTING HIM.
Dear Lord Malfoy,
I hope my letter finds you in good health, and in a calm enough situation to consider my request. I would like to formally ask for your permission in my endeavors to court your son Draco.
Now, I know this may come as a shock to you, but I promise, I am completely serious and have thought this over multiple times. To be completely honest with you, it would only serve to benefit you to accept since there would be practically no drawbacks to a relationship between us.
As you surely remember from the last wizengamot session I am currently the holder of no less than 5 seats. My estates and other assets are also wast and steadily expanding.
I am, by all means and accounts, the most politically powerful and wealthy man in the interity of wizarding brittain (if not the whole world). I also have multiple ties to both the neutral and light sections and I am aware that you are actively trying to get back into their good graces after everything that happened during and following the last war.
But, you might be wondering, what would I get out of this arrangement? It's rather simple.
I'm doing this out of love.
I have been in love with Draco for years without realizing it and now is the time for me to man up and admit my feelings.
He always pushed me to improve wether or not he realized it and every single step of my way towards becoming who I am today has been influenced by his actions, from the day when he accidentally insulted my parents in Madam Malkin's at age eleven, up to today, when I sit and compose a letter that might change my life forever.
I will not go into detail about my love, admiration and adoration for him since I feel that topic should be discussed between him and I alone but, do know that if you give me your blessings I promise to treat Draco right, and to always stand by his side and view him as my equal, as I always have.
Should you accept my proposal, I expect to receive your reply by owl post at your earliest convenience.
With respect,
Lord Hadrian Jameson Potter-Black.
Draco looked about ready to faint as he finished before letting out the most undignified and most unmalfoy like squeel to be known to man.
He showed the letter into his pocket before sprinting over to the floo station and throwing himself into a fireplace.
"BLAISE HOLY FUCKIN- Hello Mrs. Zabini."
"Hello Draco dear." Mrs Zabini, whole six feet five inches of terrifying regal lady that she was, didn't even bat an eyelash at the screaming blond french child that just emerged from a seemingly innocuous piece of furniture. "Carry on, my Blaise is in the drawing room."
"Thank you Mrs. Zabini."
. . .
"BLAISE HOLY FUUUUUU-" Draco started sprinting like his life depended on it over to the Zabini villa's drawing room.
In the aforementioned drawing room, soft classical music played on the wizarding wireless as Blaise Zabini worked away on a canvas with not but a few pieces of charcoal and a vision.
His serene space was interrupted by a scion of house black ago most definitely inherited his ancestors' powerful lungs with how much air was flowing through his respiratory system at the current moment.
Draco, with well practiced decor kicked down his best friend's door.
"BLAISE HOLY SHIT!"
"Is it the resurrection of Voldemort or the sweet beginings of the end times that you're here to inform me of?"
"I GOT A LETTER!" one eyebrow raise later (executed perfectly, because mama didn't raise no fool) Draco was scrambling to shove the letter into Blaise's face.
"Wow. Fancy that, someone can actually tolerate you."
"My dearest friend, oh how you wound me so." with an exaggerated twirl the blond collapsed into a nearby chaise lounge.
Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend's theatrics and just went back to drawing.