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"Pride and Prejudice is a literal masterpiece, Draco, shut up." Hermione glares at him from her place on the floor in front of the television, DVD in her hand.
He's rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, heading towards the kitchen. Still, he manages to call over his shoulder. "Do you just not take into account all of the inaccuracies compared to the book?"
The DVD player makes a strange noise as she shoves the disc in with more force than she meant to, before standing up and placing her hands on her hips. Harry and Ron hate it when she poses like this, claiming it to look too similar to every mother they've ever come across, particularly when it's accompanied by her stern look. Like now. "But these innaccuracies work."
"Matter of opinion," he says loudly, and she can hear him clattering around in the kitchen.
"So you don't want to watch it?"
"I didn't say that."
She's rolling her own eyes now, as she throws herself onto the couch with a harrumph. She's beginning to think that 95% of their relationship is just being exasperated with each other. It suits them.
When Draco walks back in with a bowl of popcorn, he shoves her over slightly to make room for himself, placing the bowl on his lap. In protest, she brings her barefeet up to tuck between them, which she knows he hates.
"Go put on some socks, you heathen," he grunts immediately, through a mouthful of popcorn, and she wiggles her feet more with a grin.
"Stop hogging the popcorn, then." She snakes an arm around him to grab her own handful.
"Hey, I made it ---"
"You twat, I went out and actually bought the thing, you never do the groceries anymore ---"
"That's besides the point, I physically got up to go to the kitchen, put it in the microwave and everything ---"
"Christ, are we watching this movie or not?" Hermione cuts across, but she's pressing the play button before he can retort again.
There's a comfortable silence that falls between them as the movie proceeds, the beginning scene appearing, and Hermione lets out a satisfied sigh. He's staring at her a little bit, only watching the screen out of the corner of his eye, but it's captivating to see her so relaxed, the tense muscles on her face softened in happiness. It's been a long time, and Draco doesn't know if he's ever going to get over this. Draco doesn't know if he's ever going to feel like watching Hermione this happy because of this, because of him, isn't something miraculous, so beautiful. He likes this Hermione best, he thinks. He was drawn to her fierceness, the crease of her brow and tick of the muscle in her jaw, strong and fearless and terrifying Hermione. But Hermione being soft around the edges, a little more blurred and with her guard down. Her blunt kindness and satisfaction in the smaller things. Pressing her cold feet against his thigh, because she knows it annoys him, and the look she gives him in when she registers his alphabetically-ordered bookshelf, and the ugly nightshirt she has that she loves, no matter how many times he teases her.
"Stop staring at me, you weirdo, and concentrate." She's still got her full attention on the screen, but he can see the corner of her mouth lifted.
It's all instinct, really, when he leans forward to press a kiss against her lips, ignoring the sweet and salty hints of popcorn kernels. She makes a surprised noise, leaning into it, before pushing back with much difficulty.
"All right, Mr. Darcy, the good part's coming up." The first time they watched Pride and Prejudice all those months ago -- as a couple for the first time, anyway -- she was convinced he based his entire personality of Darcy when he was younger, and hasn't let go of it since. She thinks she's funny.
He rolls his eyes, but sits back again, blowing a stray away of her hair away from his face.
They watch in relative quietness for the next hour or so, broken by their chewing and his dry commentary and her odd noises that she insists are reactions, and it's just getting to the part where Elizabeth is studying the statue of Mr. Darcy's face in his house when Hermione lets out a noise of surprise.
He quite likes this part in the film, actually, but he immediately looks down with a sudden nervousness. He can't see Hermione's face from this angle, just the bush of her hair and her bitten nails scraping the bottom of the popcorn bowl, a small black box held between her fingers.
Good. Finally. He'd put the ring at the bottom of the bowl with the popcorn over it to give him time to prepare, but any longer and he thinks he might've started to lose his nerve.
"Draco," she says, a little quiet, a little surprised, a little unsure. Not confused. She's smart enough to know what it is. "Draco."
Elizabeth's still staring at the statue on the screen, and Draco pulls back, shifting to see Hermione's face properly. It's not hard to read; her face has always been transparent, more so when he got to know her better. Her mouth is slightly open, and she's looking up at him expectantly, her fingers trembling a little around the box. He raises a shoulder elegantly.
"I thought it was time to pop the question."
There's a long silence. Everything freezes; her face, his limbs, their eyes on each other, and the TV is still running. He isn't --- Well, he wasn't afraid, or anything, that she was going to say no. They've gone past the stage where he was doubting the genuineness of their love, and it'd have been way too long for Hermione to have continued this facade where she pretended to love him, and he doesn't want to even think about that, anyway, because he loves and trusts her --- But, she's still not moving, not saying anything, and there's uncertainty creeping into his bones now.
He's going to wait it out, though. The ball's in her court now. He reckons he's shown everything to her, stripped down to his rawest, his most vulnerable. He loves her, for God's sake.
And then she giggles.
"Oh, my God. Oh, my --- Oh, my God. You're a disaster. You're --- you're literally Mr. Darcy now. This is 100% something he'd do. I can't --- That's so --- That's so lame, Draco."
The moment she started speaking, he let out a breath of air, relieved that this wasn't --- blindsided, or anything. But he's listening to her giggles, her words trapped between her laughs, and he might be getting a little miffed. That was an awesome proposal. Mr. Darcy has nothing on him.
"Are you going to give me an answer?"
"You didn't even ask me!" she throws back, the hand not holding the box pressed against her mouth. She's looking at him in that way, and asking for an answer seems a bit redundant when he can clearly see the way she feels in her eyes in that moment, but it's courteous and all.
"Oh, come on, you know what I mean ---"
Her dark hair is shaking with her laughter, eyes crinkled, and he sighs.
"Fine. Granger, do you want to marry --- "
"I want to say no literally for the way you've done it. A bloody popcorn pun, I can't believe you." She's still laughing, the bitch. He wants the validation of her answer. "Christ. Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you, you bastard. I love you." And she's still laughing, but there are tears in her eyes now, and she's wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning up on her knees. He swallows her laughter in a kiss, but he can't stop himself from grinning either, and he loves her, holy shit, he loves her, in a way he's never loved anyone, and the sound of her laughter is probably worth this whole embarrassing fiasco (though he still maintains the idea that it was clearly better than him waxing on about his feelings for about twenty minutes for a proposal instead), he kind of wants to hear her, see her, feel her in this way forever, he could hold her for eternity, he thinks.
Well, he knows. They're going to be stuck with each other for life, shitty puns and all. He has a feeling Hermione's going to tell their fucking children this proposal story, with a shit-eating grin, and he'll probably let her with an eyeroll because of the way her eyes light up.