"You're not a monster, Malfoy. I promise," she tells him instead, while his fingers start soothing through her hair and she lets him, because why not, if he wants to? She is too drunk to care about things like that, any more than 'ooh, it feels so nice, mm, just like that,' which she definitely doesn't say, because things are already weird enough. She feels like they probably shouldn't be doing this, but it feels so nice. Their noses nearly bump again as his drunken fingers give a too-enthusiastic scritch and push her head forward, and she grins, and they are both lit green-blue in the light of the visualizer, and he grins back lopsided and achingly earnest. Her eyes linger on his mouth as his grin fades, his fingers moving rhythmically and his mouth relaxing into a shape that...that is almost a pout but not quite...and...