"That's not fucking fair. That's not fair, Hermione. You can't expect me to sit here and talk to you like I didn't hurt you, like we haven't...like I don't want... But I can't and I fucking hate you, I hate myself, and there's nothing...nothing..." Draco broke off, and looked away from Hermione, cheeks flaming, swilling down his drink in a pointless attempt to escape. If he got drunk enough he wouldn't have to care, would have to think about. Except in reality, it never quite worked that way. Didn't stop him from trying, though.