"Fuck. Fuck, I understand now. I understand what your little story was about," he spat, fingers tightening around the bottle, a rush of anger tightening his muscles and making his pulse taptaptap harder. "Let me guess, the moral is that it's the journey that matters, not the destination, or some trite shit like that, isn't it?" Hermione looked away from him, a loose sheet of hair falling free from her bun and hiding her face from his accusatory stare. "This was just another attempt to what, guilt me into being with you?" Draco shoved himself to his feet, the blood whooshing in his ears and vertigo gripping him. He was well on the way to being drunk, but not quite there yet.