Raking his hands through his hair, Draco strode for the kitchen, mind set on a cold glass of some form of juice to stem the urge for something much stronger. He had just pulled a glass jug of apple juice from the fridgie (bless the sodding Weasleys and their magic compatible Muggle inventions) when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He closed his eyes as a cloying, sweet scent enveloped him at the same time slim arms wrapped around his middle. He stiffened as the hands attached to those arms glided down towards his belt.