He hates her for what she's done to him.
He hates her for what she's done to herself. The bitter fucking twisted part of Draco likes it (the part his father would have approved of, although Lucius by and large approved of everything, because that is the Malfoy way with heirs), likes that she's never gotten over him as much as he's never gotten over her. It doesn't make the fact that she never looked back any easier to deal with, though.
A sharp rapping on his office door disturbs his thoughts. It cannot be one of the elves, since they would just come directly in, and he carefully takes his head out of his hands and smoothes down the unruly strands, making a mental note to destroy whichever of the house elves allowed a guest into his house and then his office unannounced.
"Come in," he barks reflexively.
Harry Potter is standing in the doorway, looking as ill at ease as ever, though Draco knows by now that it is because of Potter himself and not the company. Draco nods that he can enter because Potter is one of the few people he can actually speak to anymore, probably because Potter is one of the few people actually more fucked up than he is.