Draco shrugged as he responded, tone impossibly dry. "Sure. She's lovely. We'll have a lovely little Malfoy heir and we will live a lovely life in our big, lovely manor in Devon." He wandlessly summoned the bottle of Ogden's, pouring himself a healthy measure before tossing the entire contents back and continuing. "Don't be ridiculous, Theo. It doesn't suit you. I didn't even court the woman, let alone date her. Her father handed her over like a prized fucking horse, and she just accepted it. Yes, she's pretty. Yes, she's wealthy in her own right. Yes, she will make an appropriate, pureblood wife. But you remember her as well as I do - she's got about as much depth as a puddle, and she's nearly as vain as Blaise." Blaise couldn't find it in himself to be offended at the assessment of his character, as it was completely true. He was, after all, devastatingly handsome. "Astoria fancies herself in love with me, after spending all of six minutes in each other's presence, might I add, but I'm under no such delusion. I will do my duty as the head of the House of Malfoy, but I won't be writing sonnets in her honor."