Little Things
It was the little things that did it. The way she slurped her drink with every sip, or that embarrassing habit she had of lowering her face to meet her fork, because she could never use her knife properly and always had to shovel her food into her mouth like some starved prisoner who had never eaten a decent meal in her life. Even the way she spoke sometimes bothered him—all loose vowels and vulgar phrases—but it was even worse when she put on that awful voice when she was trying to be polite or crook her little finger out when drinking tea, because she seemed to think that would make her seem more lady-like. He'd seen the way Daphne and Pansy had exchanged amused glances; he'd wanted to bury his head in shame when he'd overhead them talking about it later.
"I guess it's true what they say," Pansy had observed. "A pig wearing a dress is still a pig, just like a Weasley will always be a Weasley."
He should have defended her, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. Instead, he had gone home, bitter and annoyed and wondering how it had come to this. Because Draco had never expected his marriage to end up this way. He had always assumed that one day those frustrating little habits of hers would just go away; that one day he'd look across the table and see a wife who didn't lean her elbows everywhere or wouldn't embarrass him in front of his guests. His mother had told him that it was a mistake to marry a Weasley; he hadn't believed her at the time. Ginny was so beautiful, with her vibrant red hair and laughing brown eyes. She was so full of life and passion; he'd not been able to rest until he had her, because he knew that he loved her and wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.
But now he did have her, and sometimes he couldn't even stand the sight of her or her vibrant red hair. Sometimes, he just wished he could throw away the ring on his finger and all the obligations that came with it.
Sometimes, he was quite certain that he hated Ginny Malfoy.
Note: So I wrote this drabble ages ago, and I was originally going to expand on it and make it kind of have a resolution (stress on the 'kind of'), but I somehow doubt I'm ever going to return to this, so I just decided to post it in its very angsty, depressing state.
Um, yay?