Learn to Love » Draco Malfoy x Reader

I

The train ride to Hogwarts was excruciating.  

Typically, I loved the train ride.  It always filled me with excitement knowing that soon I would be at school, away from my family affairs and with my friends, having fun as a child should.

This train ride was different.  It felt odd, knowing that I would be going to school, acting like a normal teenager, but actually being a married girl —barely a woman— desperately trying to run from the reality of what's happened this past summer.

Daphne and I snatched a train compartment for ourselves; everyone by now should know that we don't like to share.  In past years, we'd always refuse anyone who tried to stay in our area for too long or for more than just a chat.  This was our opportunity to catch up on things that happened over the summer.  Much to my dismay, that was the last thing I wanted today.

Daphne was ranting on about her summer travels.  Her parents took her all over Europe and met some nice French wizard boy during their two weeks in Paris; they're allegedly still in contact.  Lucky girl.  She got to pick who she wanted.  And he sounded so handsome, too... tall, honey brown hair, blue eyes, built figure.  Just my type, unfortunately.

While she was continuing on, I heard a pounding at the door.  I looked through the glass and saw the platinum hair of Malfoy through the windows.  I scoffed as he slid the door open and stepped inside.  

"I didn't say you could come in," I avoided eye contact with him.

He rolled his eyes.  "May we chat?"

"No," I refused promptly.  Daphne looked at me confusedly, then back to Draco.  He gave her a pleading look which she understood meant he wanted some privacy.

She comprehended his silent request and excused herself from the compartment, leaving Draco to sit across from me.  I did my best to ignore his gaze and stare out the window instead, focusing on the things we passed by.  The river, that autumn-touched tree, the cloud that looks like—

"Are you even listening?"  Draco's snotty voice interrupted my gazing.  He must have been going on about something; I did my best and somehow succeeded in tuning out his whiny voice.

"I suppose not," I finally looked at him.  "Repeat yourself if it's so important."

He scoffed.  I was beginning to hate that annoying jeer of his.  He reached into the pocket of his slim, black suit and pulled out the gold wedding ring that my parents forced me to offer him on the day of our wedding.  He passed it through his slender, pale fingers and it made me want to vomit at the sight of it.  He fidgeted with it until he held it up between his long index and middle fingers for me to gawk at.

"As I was asking," he toyed, "what are we meant to do about these?"

I noticed him peer down at my left hand, scanning for either the engagement ring or wedding band, neither of which I chose to don.  

"I suggest you keep yours tucked away unless you want any questions," I snickered to myself.

"You won't wear yours?"

I shook my head.  "Of course not.  I don't need people asking, more importantly I don't need the constant reminder that we're legally wed."

"Are you suggesting that we don't tell anyone about our marriage?" he inquired.  For a flash, I thought I might see some... something, cross his eyes.  I couldn't figure what it was, but it was probably some sort of annoyance.

"Precisely.  Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

"Yes, actually, I do mind, wife," he strung out that last, contempt-filled word.