Hermione sighed, winding a hair-tie around the tail of her braid and smoothing down the little flyaway wisps that fluffed out of the plait, straightened the black long-sleeved tee shirt that went under her Auror armour. They shouldn't have done it. She, at least, should have known better. Draco had been halfway through a bottle of firewhiskey, and couldn't have been expected to think responsibly, but she should have.