Draco whipped his fist up and smacked it into Hermione’s, rapping her knuckles hard enough to knock her wand from her hand. It clattered to the ground as he grabbed her wrist and slammed her up against the shelving before she could react. She gasped with pain as her back hit the shelves, and Draco swore under his breath, hating himself. Hating the way he felt when she was around. The way he acted. The way he wanted to act and wouldn’t let himself. Nothing was right anymore. Fuck, he needed a bloody drink.