"Give me the fucking drink, you self-righteous bitch." He was uncoordinated and blinking glazedly, like a sleepy owl, his alcohol blurred eyes contrasting incongruously with the furious twist of his lips and the seething anger in his voice. Hermione wriggled beneath Draco, shoving at his shoulder and trying to ignore the thrills that being squashed against him like this aroused in her. Draco was drunk, and he needed a shower, and he was furious with her, but he was also hard and hot and lean, and his stubbled cheek rasped against Hermione's jaw as he reached for the bottle, and the sensation sent a pulse of lust through her, making her thighs twitch and her belly tighten with need.