They spend every weekend together in the weeks that follow. If Draco feels particularly excited, they go to Razzmatazz. Sometimes the others come along, sometimes it's just the two of them in a booth, working down the menu of kooky beers. She commands him to the bar as soon as she finishes her current drink. Harry listens and jokingly calls her princess and angel, but Draco's eyes glimmer and her cheeks flush prettily every time he says it, so it sticks, and stops being a joke. Harry learns that Draco holds her drinks well, and that she knows her limits, but is delighted to get to know the signs of a slightly tipsy Draco. She becomes more languid, more soft. Still touchy, but  different.  Those nights are Harry's favourite, because on those nights she lets him whisk her away, bring her home and to bed, where she'll always complain until Harry takes her make-up off for her so her eyes won't hurt in the morning. And she talks and talks, about her school work, and how her parents are annoying, but stay off her back as long as she keeps her grades up, ("Like I'm some fucking teenager!). She asks Harry about his family often, and makes him tell stories of him and Sirius when he was little while she lies next to him in bed, their legs tangled together, and buries her face blissfully in Hedwig's fur. Harry swears he can hear them purr in tandem. Sometimes they fall asleep like that, sometimes she'll crawl between his legs, wrap a hand around them both and bring them off together, licking lazily into his mouth and swallowing up the sounds he makes for her.