"No," he said, and Hermione growled and grabbed for Draco’s bottle. He was lucky he had a seeker’s reflexes, shoving Hermione’s drink between his legs and snatching his off the table out of reach. He shivered involuntarily and shifted in his seat. Merlin, the bloody bottle was cold, snugged right there against the family jewels. Fuck. Draco tried to ignore the slow freezing process occurring in his pants.