"What, here?" he snapped, lashing out in a half-hearted attempt to make her feel bad enough to piss off. Draco knew it wouldn’t work, but he did it anyway, because he was hung-over and his leg itched and ached, and he was an arsehole. "We’re going to have a talk at wand-point in the kitchen? Where anyone can just waltz in and wonder what the fuck is going on?" He paused and canted his head to one side. "In fact, what the fuck is going on, Granger? Didn’t I get across my dislike for you effectively enough? Or do you just enjoy being treated like shite, Granger?"