Being staggeringly blitzed didn't help either – Draco couldn't think straight, his judgement was shot, and all he felt like doing was seeing how fast he could reach the bottom of his current bottle. Draco smiled dryly; he couldn't even see straight – he wasn't exactly in the best state of mind to deal with complex emotional issues. And he resented Nymphadora for trying to browbeat him into being a good little boy and doing what she told him to – right or not, Draco fucking hated being bossed about. He'd had enough of that in his previous life, running about trying to keep Voldemort happy.