"Of course. And," she added blithely. "Alcohol is not good for you, and you've been drinking entirely too much, so..." She let it trail off, but she didn't have to finish her sentence. Draco knew what she was going to say. ...Best to leave it. We don't want you getting addicted, now, do we? And damnit, she was right; he already was half-addicted, if such a thing was possible. Every-so-often the gnawing need for a drink would spring to life in the back of his brain and he had to beat it into submission, mostly with the entirely pleasant technique of screwing Hermione silly as often as his still-weak body would let him.