"Obviously," she said, clearly disapproving, but not saying anything more overt than that, instead taking another sip from the bottle, her face screwed up like she was sucking on a lemon. Draco watched as she set it down on the table, clasping it in one hand and picking at the label with stubby fingernails. He couldn't even hope to relax, his own drink a lifeline to questionable sanity, feeling torn between escaping to the cellar with his bottle or dragging her over the table and kissing her.