Draco watched the varying degrees of horror playing over the other men's faces, but the only expressions that graced his were that of bemusement and slight indignation. Pucey, even?
"I would thank you all to remember that arranging marriages for their contribution to the bloodline rather than personal preference is something that my family has practiced for a very, very long time," Draco said slowly, evenly. And, with a meaningful glance towards Pucey, he added, "Something we are hardly alone in. So please," somehow the word and the smile that accompanied it seemed vicious rather than comforting, "do mind your choice of words."
He returned Snape's raised eyebrow with an almost challenging one of his own, though the slightest of smirks that accompanied it softened the expression to a playful one. People were always assuming they knew more about him than they actually did; that Snape should fall prey to the same mistake was more amusing than anything else. Oh, the man was certainly correct to believe that Draco lacked anything resembling a paternal instinct, and that even the thought of having a nosy female constantly at his side repulsed him. The miscalculation was that Draco, Slytherin to the core, would opt for personal comfort over achieving his ambitions.
The bloodline was to be returned to its former glory. That's all there was to it.
Turning back to the minister, the defiance in Draco's eyes flared to a far more aggressive one. "I must agree, however, that I am unlikely to find your criteria acceptable." Funny, though, that one as recalcitrant as him should have the least objection.