Mistrust

Draco's eyes darted around the hallway, his face flushing with anger and shame. The thought of someone desecrating his home in such a manner was infuriating. His gaze settled on the door of the guest bedroom, and he found himself unable to tear it away. He could hear the moans and gasps now, echoing through the halls like a haunting melody.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Draco slowly lifted his hand and turned the knob. The door swung open, revealing the occupants within: his wife, Astoria, and his oldest friend, Theodore Nott. They were tangled together on the bed, their bodies moving in unison as they sought release. Draco's heart sank like a stone in his chest. He'd known that Astoria and Theodore had been close, but he'd never imagined they would be this close.

For a moment, Draco considered revealing himself, confronting them in the act. But something held him back. Perhaps it was the fact that he was not entirely innocent himself; he'd strayed from their marriage as well, seeking solace in the arms of Pansy Parkinson. Or perhaps it was the look of passion on Astoria's face, a look that he'd never seen directed at him. Whatever the reason, he found himself standing there, watching in silence as his wife and his friend consummated their secret love affair.

As the sounds of their passion began to fade, Draco's heart broke a little more. He wanted to turn and walk away, to pretend he'd never seen any of this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He stood there, watching as Astoria and Theodore lay tangled together on the bed, their chests rising and falling in unison.