He started on the next beer. His twelfth? Fourteenth? Draco couldn’t remember, and the bottles by the side of his chair were all blurry and muddled. He frowned. About the only thing he knew for sure right now was that he needed to piss – again. Muggle beer was known for that, apparently. Stupid bloody drink. But he couldn’t be bothered getting up. Damn. Draco knew he should really just stagger off to bed, but he wasn’t drunk enough yet.