"Whether or not someone had fodder for pestering me wasn't my concern," Draco answered, his expression dangerously close to shifting into an angry sort of sneer. "I have better things to do than worry what the rest of the dolts in this house think of my priorities." Not that he could speak on what his priorities were, exactly. Not to anyone.
He took the bottle, nose wrinkling in slight distaste at Greg's sentiment, but he took another drink. And then, because Nott seemed to be able to toss it back without issue, he took another. Too fast, because he felt oddly heavy, and he knew he shouldn't.