He hated it all. He hated his marriage to Astoria Greengrass. He hated seeing Hermione in the Prophet alongside the Weasel, an arm wrapped around her waist, a hand caressing her hip. Each time Draco cut her picture out of the paper, he would hold it, running a finger across her face as it looped whatever action she had been captured doing at the time. Then he’d think to himself "this is the last time, Draco", before placing it in the safe behind a portrait in his study, charmed with a Notice-Me-Not spell.