WE NEED EACH OTHER [DRARRY]

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO : PLOTTING THE PLANS

Draco's POV

Quidditch is a good distraction. It keeps my mind off things. And away from Astoria.

Honestly, she was becoming unbearable with each passing day.

That wasn't supposed to be happening.

I came to Hogwarts to be close to Astoria. But the more time she spent with me, the more I felt like our marriage really wouldn't work.

In a way, it wasn't her fault. She has been trying to look out for me or probably hunting me down— it was basically the same thing. She would ask me if I felt any better since Father's visit. It would seem very endearing for any ordinary person. But I just couldn't find comfort in the gesture.

It seemed everyone knew my father wasn't good news.

Astoria pestered me to talk to her if anything was bothering me. There were a lot of things that bothered me, but I would genuinely be surprised if I decided to share them with her. I didn't know if she was the problem or... I?

It seemed useless to blame the girl. She was only trying to help me. I had had thoughts to open up to her, but something deep down told me she was not the one.

But then, who was?

Lovegood was nice enough. I could tell her at least half of my problems. It wouldn't make me feel great, but it was better than keeping all things to myself.

Perhaps, there was nobody to whom I could be an open book, to whom I could share everything without feeling judged. Perhaps I didn't have a listener.

In the following days of Father's visit and my constant plotting to get back to Potter— I had forgotten all about Quidditch practice on Saturday. But, fortunately, the Gryffindor keeper reminded me yesterday. Reminded us— to be precise.

Since I argued with Potter about my letter, I had shut him out with a cold wall of icy silence. Sharing a room with him didn't help much. Every time I saw his face, it came back to me. Mockery dripped from his every action. His words were carved into my mind.

He dares to poke his nose into my personal life and then blame it on me?

That bastard knew I couldn't risk my reputation at Hogwarts anymore. Father's anger wasn't exactly disguised when he visited. And Potter knew it, which was why he was being an arsehole about this.

But he thought he could get away with it.

Oh, he better be watching out...

Potter couldn't be more wrong.

It was true, I was furious and felt helpless on the day I argued about my letter with him. I barely slept through the night, watching Potter comfortably sleep on the bed. He was having it all— the fame, the love, the comfort, and a chance to belittle me.

I was forced to be here, forced to agree to marry Astoria. While I was approving all this, I wouldn't tolerate this inconvenience. And I most certainly couldn't let Potter get away with this. I was having a hard enough time here already.

That night, I spent hours plotting my revenge against Potter. There must be something I could do. How could I put Potter in a condition like mine, so he could experience what I felt? There must be something that Potter wouldn't want anyone to know. Something similar to my note...

And then I had it. The next day, I watched Potter, going around his personal stuff. I almost chuckled to myself at how oblivious he was, working with his personal business around me, as if he hadn't done anything to me. Especially after my warning of getting back at him, he could still act as if things were fine.