Cold Love || Draco Malfoy

10- Breaking Point

The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet. The usual murmur of students whispering over assignments or gossiping about the latest Quidditch match was absent. The atmosphere was tense, and everyone seemed to sense it. At the center of it all was Draco Malfoy.

It had been days since Jessica had started pulling away, and each moment without her felt like another stone added to the weight in his chest.

His temper was fraying, and everyone could see it. Even Crabbe and Goyle, usually oblivious to everything but their next meal, had started keeping their distance. He snapped at them for the smallest of things and seemed ready to explode at any moment.

Jessica's absence was eating away at him. She'd always been distant, a part of her he could never quite reach, but now it felt as though she was slipping entirely out of his grasp. It drove him mad. Every time he saw her in the corridors, every time she turned away from him, it was like a fresh wound.

His frustration boiled over one afternoon when he encountered Dean Thomas in the hallway. Dean, oblivious to the storm brewing within Draco, was laughing about something with Seamus Finnigan.

The sound grated on Draco's nerves. Before he could stop himself, he was shoving Dean against the wall, his wand out and pointed at the Gryffindor's throat.

"What's your problem, Malfoy?" Dean spat, glaring at him.

Draco didn't answer, his chest heaving with barely suppressed rage. A part of him wanted to hex Dean into oblivion, to take out all his anger and confusion on him. But it wasn't Dean who had pushed him to this point. It was Jessica.

In a flash of clarity, Draco saw himself—wild-eyed, trembling with fury, his control slipping away. He hated it. He hated that she had this much power over him, that he couldn't even walk down a corridor without wanting to tear something apart.

He released Dean suddenly, almost shoving him away. "Just stay out of my way, Thomas," he hissed, turning sharply on his heel and stalking off before he could do something he'd regret.

But the encounter left him shaken. He was losing control, and he knew it.

---

That night, Draco found himself unable to sleep. The walls of the Slytherin dormitory felt like they were closing in on him. He needed to clear his head, to escape the suffocating weight of his thoughts. Throwing on a cloak, he slipped out of the dormitory and headed for the library.

He didn't expect to see anyone there at such a late hour, least of all Jessica. But as he rounded the corner of a tall bookshelf, there she was—sitting at a table, her head bent over a book, her hair falling like a curtain over her face.

For a moment, Draco considered turning back, but something in him refused to retreat. Instead, he walked up to her, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

"Studying this late?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

Jessica looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with everything they had been avoiding.

"I needed to catch up," she replied, her tone careful, guarded.

Draco frowned, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Is that what this is, then? Just catching up?"

Jessica didn't respond, her gaze dropping back to the book in front of her. The silence stretched between them, taut and uncomfortable.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Draco's voice was low, almost a whisper, but the intensity behind it was unmistakable.