Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters assoiciated with him. I do however own this plot.
Waiting Is Torture
The once steaming cup of coffee had long since cooled to luke-warm and I still hadn't had any yet. I looked towards the large clock on the wall again and sighed, irritated at how slow time was moving, and then irritated again when I realized that time was always moving at the same rate everywhere, anywhere. I tapped my foot.
An unfinished crossword puzzle lay abandoned on the bench space next to me, the squares nearly blacked out from my restless pencil. I put my cup down rather quickly, and the coffee nearly sloshed everywhere, but managed to contain itself with no mishaps.
Staring out towards the tracks and watching for the train, I sat back on my bench with a huff, crossing my arms and slouching a bit. I was sure he told me ten thirty. I glanced at my watch impatiently. It was three after ten.
The whining of a child nearby caught my attention and pulled me from my thoughts, and I listened to her conversation with her mother, slightly interested.
"Mommy! Mommy! I can't find teddy!" The child cried in her high pitched voice, dancing around in what looked to be the prequel to a tantrum.
"He's not in your bag?" The mother asked, sounding unconcerned.
"No! Mommy, Where is Teddy? I want Teddy!" The child wailed. I didn't know whether to feel sorry for the child or sorry that I could relate.
"I'm sorry, Sweetie," The mother said, only a hint of sympathy in her tone. "We'll find him later. You'll just have to wait."
I didn't want to listen to this any longer and sprang from the bench, shuffling a little as I looked around, before walking inside into the women's bathroom that was near the train platform. It was mostly deserted inside and I walked up to the mirror, noting the shirt that I was wearing.
It was one of his shirts, one that had gotten a little too small for him that he had given to me. It had been his favorite shirt for a long time. Now it was mine.
Some woman ruined my daydreaming when I heard her talking in one of the bathroom stalls, on one of those muggle cell phones I hoped. The person on the other line must have been quite persistent because she kept repeating, "You'll have to wait. I'm not ready to come home yet, just wait."
Groaning, I fled the bathroom at what I hoped was casual pace, but I couldn't hide it anymore. I was so afraid that I'd get one of those calls from him, telling me to wait. It would break my heart; I had waited long enough, two weeks without seeing him and I was ready to breakdown.
Suddenly, I stopped short at the sight of another pair of feet, nearly colliding with the person they belonged to. I fleetingly wondered when I had started pacing as my eyes traveled up from the shoes, quiteshiny andbuffed (his shoes were always like that), to the pants, loose,black slackswiththeMalfoy insignia on the left pocket(hispants were like that), to the black t-shirt adorning the person's torso, (a manly torso, definitely not a woman).
My heart was beating fast now that I recognized the shoes, the pants, and the shirt. I looked up. My girlish squeal of delight deafened those around us. "Draco, You're here!"
He didn't seem to mind though, being the center of my attention. He had dropped his bags to the tile floor with a thunk to catch me when I threw myself at him, so overcome with relief and affection that I couldn't restrain myself.
At last, I had to take a breath and he used this time to wrap an arm around me and press a kiss to my hair, asking, "Have you been waiting long, love?"
I could almost feel his smirk and I grinned, hugging him and thinking how relieved I was he was home.