Chapter Text
Prompt: Apollo
Light. Prophecy. Truth. Arts.
“GOD OF THE GOLDEN BOW,
AND OF THE GOLDEN LYRE,
AND OF THE GOLDEN HAIR,
AND OF THE GOLDEN FIRE…”
-John Keats
Title: Large Public Romantic Displays
Rating: T
Word Count: 398
Warnings: N/A
“Hermione!” Harry snapped his fingers in her face. “You’ve been distracted all evening. Everything alright with Malfoy?”
“Yes, I…” She grinned at her sudden realization. “I’m going to propose.”
“Another bill with a body-fluid inspired acronym?”
“For the love of– no. To him. Propose to him.”
Harry smiled conspiratorially. “I thought you two– oh! Rent a billboard at Ginny’s match!”
“No large public romantic displays.”
“Pay their mascot to wear a ferret costume.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ll think of something special.”
With a whoosh of fire, Draco emerged from Hermione’s Floo, clad in a knee-length toga, golden olive wreath atop his head.
He froze. “Potter. You’re here.”
“Clearly.” Harry leaned back in his chair with a surprised grin.
Blinking at Draco’s costume, Hermione found her voice. “Is that a lyre?”
Regaining his composure, Draco sauntered over to her kitchen table, placed one leg on an empty chair, and leaned on his knee.
Hermione flushed and Harry covered his eyes. “I don’t need to see that, Malfoy!”
Draco smirked. “Hermione appreciates historical accuracy.”
Frantically adjusting his toga so he wasn’t so exposed, she noticed a bow and quiver of golden arrows strapped to his back. “What–”
Draco plucked a few strings of the lyre. “Hermioneeeeeeee.”
“I didn’t know Malfoy could sing.”
“He can’t.”
Draco continued to warble. “I even love your house elf obsession...”
Not even the lyre could cover his vocal struggles.
“I’ll patiently sit through your lectures and lessons…”
Harry sniggered. “That barely rhymes.”
“If I didn’t, I’d have to run far…”
Hermione winced.
“Lest you catch me, and keep me in a jar…”
Hermione’s head fell to the table and she muttered, “Draco, what are you doing?”
“Hermioneeeeeeeeeee. Will you marry meeeeeeeeee?”
She lifted her head to see Draco beaming down at her, and jumped up to hug him.
“You prat! And who is it I’m marrying, exactly?”
“A cupid,” Harry quipped with a smile.
“What? No,” Draco scowled despite Hermione’s excited closed-mouth kisses. “Apollo. See, I’ve got–”
“A bow and arrow?” Harry paused. “Like a cupid?”
“Apollo had a bow and arrow. And a lyre–”
“So did cherubs, Malfoy,” Harry gleefully retorted.
“Apollo.”
“Cherub. And they ran around with their bits hanging out.”
“Well, Apollo had something that cherubs didn’t.” Draco dragged Hermione to the window overlooking her back yard.
“Modesty?” Hermione suggested before gasping down at the display outside.
“A horse-drawn flying chariot. Ready?”