A last line fic for Sandy the Older

He didn't understand it. He was good at wooing people. He really was. He had the money to shower them with gifts and flowers and chocolates--the good kind that he made his mother owl for from Belgian wizards, not the regular sort they sold at Honeydukes in case of Dementor attack.

And it wasn't like he wasn't thoughtful. It was obvious that Weasley needed a better owl, that last one couldn't hope to carry any packaged of significant size. And the robes? His dress robes were an improvement, if one liked that particular shade, though Draco personally felt Weasley would look better in soft shades of brown, but his everyday school robes were still horrendously patchy. Patchy.

Flowers perhaps he could understand, since Weasley wasn't a girl, but there had been no need to hurl the Remembrall at him just because it flashed you forgot to kiss your sexy new boyfriend. It had cost a lot of money, that spell.

As had the dinner he'd paid Rosmerta to offer Weasley instead of her usual bourgeois fare. Anyone else would have been thrilled at the opportunity to have haute cuisine, he was sure of it. Anyway, how was he supposed to know that Weasley didn't like brains?

Draco frowned. Maybe he could try something else.