The Boy on the Train (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Chapter 9

Draco POV

I rested my head on my hands, looking at the suit draped on my chair. It was by no means my style of clothing, however my mother had it hand-picked. 'Keep it hung Draco, do not wrinkle the shirt! You want to look your best, to make the Malfoy name proud!' Her springy voice rung through his memory.

The idea of the ball grew more and more tiring by the minute. Pansy basically cornered me this morning, questioning my whereabouts and why I had not asked her to that damned dance yet. Sure, we were friends, but I felt like her emotions were far more one-sided. I placed her only somewhat higher than Crabbe and Goyle. However, she was of pure-blood, and she would make more of a suitable date than anyone else I could think of in this tainted school.

Nevertheless, my mind always wandered back to the warmth of (Y/N). I knew her smile, though it was never for me.

She radiated kindness and had a calm disposition. She was intellectual, unique, and didn't think too much of herself. The last, something I should hate. I was made for someone who shared my same pride and blood. I was sure this feeling was primarily lust, but I also felt something else there. I had never used the word pure in any other sense than pure-blood, but in this instance, what I felt for her was pure.

I had known her for four years, I wanted to know more. Yet, I hated these thoughts. I wanted to be rid of her. If she had just not existed in the first place, she wouldn't be on my mind at all times. 'What would my mom think of her?' I thought, then I sank. 'What would father think of her?'

I wrestled with these thoughts for the rest of the evening. All the while, thinking of her endlessly.

(Y/N) POV

I unpacked my clothes, moping while doing so. I slammed each garment onto the plush of my bed, though not for Pansy's remarks.

"What is Draco stalking me for anyways?" I questioned aloud. "Is it not enough that he watched me almost pass out from blood loss that night?"

My furious disposition directed at the thought of that platinum-blonde arrogant fool. I did mental gymnastics, questioning his motives. My petty crush for Draco was a fleeting memory. All I held for him now was pure contempt. "Who does he think he is? Does he think he can just do whatever he pleases, not a worry at what it may cost to others? The nerve of that selfish..."

I raised my head and breathed in and out a puff of air. I darted my gaze to the dress hanging on my closet door. I walked over and held the fabric, brooding.

I don't know what came over me, a sense of hatred, curiosity, malicious intent, infatuation, or all at once. One thing I know, I was determined.

Unclutching the material, I walked over to the mirror at my desk and stared. I took off my glasses and focused my vision. Fluffing my hair, I grinned widely. My adrenaline was pumping, had I been in my right mind, I'd have never had these thoughts in the first place.

The thought of adorning the gown, walking into the white crystal-like ballroom. Dancing with a mysterious stranger. These foolish child-like dreams of grandeur elevated my senses and sent my spiraling into a joyful state.

"If Draco wants to see me, he will. I am going to the Ball."

That night I had a strange dream.

I was wearing my dress, but I was not at the ball. I was on the outside, in the snowy courtyard. I was running, what felt like for fear. In the blue distance, I saw a young man sitting on the fountain.

He had a most familiar face.