The only other person who remained in command of their personal space was Draco Malfoy, perched imperiously in his armchair, his eyes too frequently moving towards Hermione. Her body was reacting to the environment, the firewhiskey, the increasingly flirtatious acts and answers being flung around her, and Hermione couldn’t help but remember that she had been having a very specific kind of dream before she had come here. As Neville blushed and began recounting the different places around school he had snogged, Hermione tried to recall her dream. 