"No! You're drunk, and that makes things go wrong. You certainly won't do any better than me, and you're more likely to blow us up," she snaps back, frustrated at the stupid transfiguration spell now and made snippy with it. She catches his lopsided flash of a grin out of the corner of her eye, her own lips twitch in response. She forces them down into a concentrated frown, and focuses on the bandages, getting them right this time. Hermione's crow of success is involuntary and swiftly stifled, but she knows he hears before she bottles it, and her cheeks flame up.