Much to my surprise, Draco didn't lead me to the center of the dance floor like I'd presumed, but to the garden patio just outside the manor that was connected to the ballroom.

"I thought we were going to have a dance?" I inquired.

By now, it was very dark and most of the illumination of the garden was (except for the light peaking in from the ballroom) just from the moon and stars. The moon was crescent, slightly fat which provided a bit more light.

"I figured you'd prefer a walk to calm your nerves."

Although I knew there weren't any surprises of where this garden walk may go, I still followed his indirect lead of walking down the cobblestoned path of the garden. The pace was slow. Unlike many other times we've walked, or been forced to walk together on prefect patrols, this wasn't rushed or with an underlying tone of wanting it to be over soon enough.

This walk was much more relaxing. Combined with my desire for fresh air, the crispness of the autumn night was perfect for waking me up a bit without stressing me further.

"You could tell?"

"You certainly didn't look comfortable once my father brought up the house he's found for us."

"No, I wasn't," I breathed deeply. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"Neither was I. Still, I can't say I was surprised that he did that. It's something he'd do..."

I took the opportunity to slightly shift the conversation to him than me when he mentioned this. There was a trace of frustration in his tone, almost malice but not quite as aggressive.

"You didn't look that comfortable either when he brought up the ring," I gestured to the engagement ring on my finger. He quickly glanced down at it before shaking his head.

At that, I instinctively looked at his left hand to see the ring I gave him. It glistened the pale moonlight, looking a bit cold on him. I noticed he twiddled with it using his thumb during our stroll.

"It's not a big deal, really. He thinks it is since it's a Malfoy tradition to pass that onto a new wife every few generations."

I felt somewhat disgruntled at his response. Not upset, necessarily, but he made it sound as if he didn't care about it whatsoever. Did he not? I am only his wife, after all. But when did that start bothering me, what he thought?

"For sake of discussion," I mused, slightly frowning, "you wouldn't have chosen this emerald, then?"

"Of course not," he sneered. "You don't like green."

"What's that got to do—"

"I would've chosen something you preferred. Not something I was told to pass on for the sake of family tradition."

With my right index and middle finger, I slowly rotated the engagement ring around, absentmindedly playing with it a little. It didn't feel quite right in my grasp, he was right about that. It didn't suit me.

He looked much more appealing in this dimmer lighting. His features looked softer, less threatening. Although we'd been on plenty of prefect patrols at late hours together, those were... different, to say the least. Those were under more official pretenses, we were forced to do those together. This was of our own choice. I could've not followed him out here, opting to stay inside.

In fact, we could've avoided each other almost entirely on this trip if we chose to do so. It wasn't necessary to make small talk which turned into light heartened banter. It wasn't necessary to play games until we had headaches. It wasn't necessary to chat in bed until we were so sleepy we fell asleep.

"I appreciate that," I gave a small smile. "I'm aware the ring wasn't your choice."

"And none of this was your choice."

"I suppose not. It's just the cards we've been dealt, being in these families."

"Yeah... that's it..." his voice trailed.

I gave him a skeptical look with a raised eyebrow, silently asking what he meant by that. He simply shook his head, as if moving onto the next topic.

"Do you ever think about that? How you've been thrown in this, just expected to live out your life as if you weren't in this... situation," he asked.

Of course I have. It's all I do, seemingly. I feel like it consumes me wholly, but I couldn't necessarily say that. As much as I didn't want to marry him, I still had respect for him as my husband. I didn't want it to sound like I absolutely hated him. There were, in theory, worse people to be thrown to.

"I try to avoid thinking about it as much as possible. However, I still do, a lot of the time."

He stayed silent for a moment. He gestured to bench on the path and sat down. I took my place next to him.

"I figured you wouldn't want to walk around in those heels. Sorry, it just occurred to me now," he bashfully apologized. He brushed a few loose strands of hair out of his face.

"It didn't bother me," I assured him, trying to get comfortable on the seat. "But thank you."

We both looked up at the stars. I knew he was quite apt regarding astronomy —we were in the same class and he always appeared to get the highest marks— so I'm sure he had plenty to say. At least, I thought so, but his eyes weren't focused. They seemed like they were absentmindedly looking up to pass time.

"I think about it all the time," he softly muttered.

"You do?" I turned my neck to look at him, who did the same to meet my gaze.

"Every waking minute."

Then, it was my turn to stay silent. I didn't quite know what a proper response to that would be. I couldn't exactly say that was pathetic, because I was almost doing the same. I couldn't say it wasn't worth it, since it wasn't an easy situation to adapt to.

"I'm sorry it affects you so negatively," I opted to reply as coolly as possible.

"I didn't say that."

"Isn't that what you meant?"

"Not quite," his voice hushed to just above a whisper before pausing for a moment. His breath hitched before he spoke again. "You're not a bad choice for wife, y/n."

"Oh," I sighed, slightly embarrassed. I felt the same about him, that there were worse options. It almost shocked me that I was thinking that, though. Just a few weeks, perhaps just days ago, I would've thought differently. "You're not the worst choice for a husband, either."

A small grin tugged on his lips. He returned his attention to the sky.

"You know, we never even got a honeymoon," he lightly laughed, causing me to do the same.

"At the time, I don't think it would've been put to good use. We couldn't stand being in the same room, let alone on a vacation somewhere together."

"I know what you mean," he chuckled, which I returned. "I remember how quickly you pulled away from our first kiss."

"Our only kiss, too. I don't think either of us were thrilled for our wedding kiss, not with all of our families watching, expecting it of us."

"I genuinely felt like you were going to wipe your mouth after that," he grimaced jokingly.

"I thought you'd ditch me at the altar," I laughed.

"Never," he softly chuckled. It was more breathy, if anything. He looked down, before returning his eyes back to the stars. "Still, that honeymoon... it might've been a good opportunity to get where we are now, though. You know, okay with each other's presence."

"I think we're a little further than that, don't you?"

The grin on his face grew. His white teeth shone a little in the dim lighting.

"I'd like to think so. Even if I've been less than pleasant with you up until now."

"You were actually a complete prick," I chuckled. "I couldn't stand the sight of you."

"I probably deserved that. I wasn't exactly the most gentlemanly; if anything, I was the opposite. I shouldn't have acted like that."

"No, you shouldn't have. At least you've improved."

He turned to look at me, eyes boring into mine. The slight glint of the light bouncing off his blue-grey eyes, looking far more grey in this lighting, made them shine among the rest of his muted features.

"No, y/n, I really shouldn't have been like that. For Merlin's sake, you're my wife, as much as you don't want to hear it, and I can't blame you for that either. It's no wonder you hated me for so long, I treated you horribly when I should have been making an effort—"

"Slow down, Draco," I cut off his rambling but he looked more serious than ever. "You're right in that you treated me poorly, I thought you hated me, too. But I like the way things are progressing; I'm finding it easier to be around you."

"I don't want for you to just tolerate 'being around' me, it should be more than that."

"I'd like for us to be more pleasant with each other, too, but the reality is we're going to have to take baby steps if we don't want to be miserable forever."

"Miserable?" He suddenly became more animated, his eyebrows furrowing and wrinkles tainting his soft features. "You're miserable, right now?"

"I didn't mean it like that, I meant that since it wasn't our choice that this is less than ideal—"

"For you, but—" he rambled quickly, before cutting himself off and continuing with, "I'm willing to make this work if you are! Why can't we just progress a little faster?"

"Draco, where's all this coming from? You've never said this much about our marriage, then you just spring it all on at once?"

"I told you this is all I think about! I swear, every minute I'm with you on patrols, in our classes together, eating at the same table in the Great Hall. Even when I'm not with you, I'm with my friends, playing quidditch, alone in my bed at night, all I can think about is this damn marriage and how I've fucked it up already!"

"Did you think this was going to be easy? That the two of us who have hated each other our entire lives would just get along—"

"You think I hate you?" he deadpanned.

"At least I thought you did—"

"No, I'm talking about now. Do you think I hate you?"

I didn't exactly know what to say. It felt like I was being interrogated, if anything. He kept cutting me off, asking quick questions I didn't have time to formulate a response, it was like I was being pressed for information I didn't even have the answers to.

"I don't think you hate me now, but I'm sure you would if your father didn't force you to come to this ball or be polite to me!"

He slumped in his seat, breathing out slowly. His huffs sounded full of contempt, or annoyance at the least. Draco's brows were furrowed, and his lip curled into something of a sneer.

"If you think that's the case, then I'm doing a worse job than I thought."

"What are you talking about? Merlin, stop being so vague!"

"Me being vague? I swear, y/n, I can't—" he stopped himself mid-sentence, took a deep breath and regained some sort of composure that he lacked a moment ago. He spoke much softer and restrained, and looked like he was masking anger bubbling under the surface. "I can't blame you for thinking that. Not after how I treated you."

"Draco, I saw the way you clammed up with your father earlier this evening when he thought you were being a bad husband. Of course, I'm going to assume you're only acting this way because of him. What other reason could there be?"

He looked back to meet my eyes, looking more defeated. His slouched figure had his legs jutting out lazily, hands laying in his lap and neck craned to face me. I could faintly make out some vein popping out of his neck in the dark lighting.

"There could be a lot of other reasons."

I scoffed. "Again with the vagueness. I know we're not exactly the best of friends, but you could at least be direct with me."

"Trust me, I'm trying to get there..." his voice trailed.

I started to stand up slowly, preening my dress a little to look neater. "Look, maybe we should just go inside. We're meant to be in there, dancing with everyone else. I think we'll be missed if we stay out any longer..."

He grabbed my arm, looking up at me. His eyes were large, with his lips parted and looking almost remorseful. His fingers on my wrist were cold, but not uninviting, like earlier in the night.

"I can't go back in there with you upset with me. I'm sick of fucking things up with you— this..."

"Draco, it's really no big deal—" I tried assuring him, but once again he cut me off.

"No, it is a big deal. Please, for once, accept that it's a problem so we can move past it," he pleaded, his grip on my wrist still sending shivers of coldness up my arm.

"What do you want me to do? You were just expressing how you feel, I can't do anything about it."

"Forgive me."

"What?" I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. It wasn't so much of a command, but rather an apology, in his own way. I know he didn't have much experience with apologizing, so I figured this was the best he could do.

"Please, forgive me. We seemed to be doing so well, this trip made us... better. I don't want it to go away."

I took a deep breath, to which I noticed him visibly stiffen, sitting up straighter than he did before. He was still looking up at me with that soft expression, and only then did I realize how cold it was outside. The autumn, nearing winter climate must have made my face pale and cold to the touch. Perhaps it wasn't his fingers that seemed cold, but just the night.

"Alright," I looked down, nodding slightly. "I liked how things were going, too. I don't want to start over, either."

I didn't have the courage to look at him again. I tried my best at averting eye contact, which I think he was displeased with. Nonetheless, he stood up, still with my wrist in his grasp. I could feel his presence hovering near me, his body heat providing some warmth against the cool night.

"Now, would you come back to the ball with me? Put on a show for whoever's watching."

I felt his fingers around my wrist slip down to intertwine with mine, his long fingers reaching around the back of my hand and warming it up.

He was so delicate, as much as he tried not to seem like it at school. I'd never met someone with such an outwardly cold personality, but on the inside being so insecure as to fear any instability in his life.

The only positive was that he didn't seem angry toward me; all of the actual answers he did give me during our conversation sounded like he was trying to make an effort. I could tell by the way he restrained himself from getting angrier than he could have been.

He led me back to the ballroom where we danced together. He didn't ask, simply taking me to the center of the floor and pulling me close. The hand he held with mine stayed like that, the other wrapping around my waist.

We didn't speak again that night.

Apart from a few passing conversations from relatives or guests coming to greet us, we didn't verbally interact with each other.

I stayed in his arms the entire night and well into the early morning, just dancing. No talking.

It wasn't uncomfortable. It was a mutually understood silence. Neither of us had anything to say; we were content with the fact that the air had been cleared between us, but we weren't in the mood to make any more progress than we already had. Our chatting and playing games and reading with each other might have been pushing the amount of friendliness we could achieve in one weekend.

If anything, I think we both felt more comfortable in each other's arms than to say anything at all. It seemed like an acclimation of the relationship we'd developed over the past however many weeks of slowly tolerating each other.

It wasn't much, but it was all he could give me tonight. I'd take it as a sign of overall progress.

—

A/N: I swear their relationship is such a roller coaster... but they've finally had some sort of emotional break through!

Hope everyone is doing well with school and personal lives, I know this time of year gets busy for everyone!