The Wedding Rings

Chapter 9: The Confession

Long, elegant fingers continuously drummed against the mahogany surface of the desk, grey eyes narrowed into two slits. It was rare for Draco Malfoy to be impatient, especially since he was so used to getting whatever he wanted at the right and precise time, but Hermione Granger wasn't as cooperative as he had hoped her to be, it seemed. It'd been a week since he'd last heard from her. One whole week without even managing to sneak a glance in her direction, no matter how many times he had used used his work as an excuse to walk by her office. If he didn't know her as well as he did, he'd have doubted she even came to work at all. She was avoiding him, that had to be it. Granger was avoiding him, and he didn't like it at all.

Naturally, he told her he would be patient and wait. Naturally, that was a lie. He despised the time away from her, despised not being able to shove her against the wall and fuck her into oblivion, because he was as lost in her as she was in him. And it took a lot for him to acknowledge it.

Draco sighed in annoyance and looked down at the papers in front of him, knowing he had some work to finish up before going to bed. If nothing, this helped in distracting him for a moment. Maybe tomorrow she would come. Maybe tomorrow it would all be over.

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts and he let out a small hiss at the interruption, guessing who it might be.

"Yes?"

His tone was sharp and fast, cutting the air with its force.

Astoria walked in wearing nothing but a long, silky robe, her blonde hair – usually straight and cascading down her back – pulled into a messy bun. It irritated him, how it was so perfect even then. No frizz, no annoying curls that could choke him whenever he'd accidentally fall asleep next to her, no... personality. So bland. Empty.

"Draco, are you coming to bed?" Astoria asked with a raised eyebrow, the tone very much accusatory.

"I'm working, I'll be there when I'm done," he drawled and looked down at the papers, quickly signing his name below the large embedded 'M' on the contract.

"You're always working," she hissed, walking further into the room and stopping in front of his desk.

"And you're spending the money, so what exactly is the problem here?"

"Stop that! You—stop acting like you—like—"

"Astoria, stop fucking stuttering, I don't have time for this."

"You don't have time for anything!" she cried out, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

Draco took a deep breath and slowly rose from his seat, putting his palms flat against the cold surface. He was sick and tired of having this argument every bloody day; sick of her inane questions, her shallow personality, her need to study every single thing he did. What the fuck had gotten into him when he'd decided to marry her? It was a mistake.

"I have time for things that actually matter to me."

He knew it was harsh, knew he had crossed the line when she took a sharp intake of breath and a step backwards, her cold eyes widened in surprise. He could feel the weight of his wedding ring suddenly, scorching his finger, begging to be freed, and Draco clenched his jaw and pushed himself up until he was standing right opposite of her, his face void of all emotions. It always seemed to end like this, their little fights and bickering. Whenever he'd fight Granger, he'd enjoy it; he'd taunt her until he got the needed reaction and then he'd break her until she was under him, begging for more, pleading with him to touch her. It was exhilarating and he wanted to taste it again, if only for a fleeting moment. Every part of his body was missing her presence and the agitation from that only made him more determined to stay away from his wife for the time being.