Dramione Drabbles

"I like you, Granger." "You're drunk, Malfoy."

"I like you, Granger."

"You're drunk, Malfoy."

"Am not," he said. He had his head propped up on one hand, using the other to finish off the remnants of his - 9th - drink.

After he'd double and triple checked that the inside of his mug held no more alcohol, he discarded it on the bar top - it clattered with a *thud *- and moved on to his next drunken thought.

"Why do people say they don't like your hair?" *hiccup*

"I wasn't aware that my hair was a popular topic amongst your friends, but thanks for letting me know." She self consciously pulled at a stray piece resting on the nape of her neck.

"Well, they're wrong, I like your hair." *hiccup*

Before Hermione could - thank him? - Malfoy was out of his seat and stumbling confidently towards a couple of girls a few chairs down.

"Hey, 'scuse me. Hi, my names Draco. Don't you like her hair? It has just the right amount of curly, don't you think?" He was gesturing to Hermione theatrically, like she was the grand prize at the end of a game show.

Hermione, unsure whether it was Malfoy or the girls who needed rescuing from the situation unfolding in front of her, raced up behind him, gripped either side of his shoulders and attempted to move him away.

"Excuse my friend, he's sloshed," she said to the girls, who were both doing their best to hide the fit of giggles brought on by Malfoy's... drunkenness.

"Actually I'm her boyfriend," he said, then his voice changed to a whisper, "but she doesn't know that yet" - *hiccup* - "so shhhhh." He placed a finger to his lips to demonstrate how they should stay quiet.

"Malfoy, you are not my boyfriend." She'd finally succeeded at steering him back to their spot at the bar. He stumbled back onto his barstool. "You have to stop telling people that, or they'll start to think its true."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for an acknowledgement that he'd hear her.

He was looking back at her, dreamily.

"Well?" she asked, trying to coax an agreement from him.

"I wanna kiss you," he said, but it came out more like 'iwanuhkishoe'.

Hermione sighed.

He was reaching for his drink that he'd already finished off when -

"Draco that's not your drink! That's hand sanitizer, you absolute donut."

"Oooh donuts. They sound delightful right now, don't they?" he said, then became distracted by a bartender who was passing by them. She was holding a bottle of liquor topped with a sparkler, so tiny flames were dancing in the air.

The table who had ordered the bottle broke out into a tipsy rendition of the "Happy Birthday" song. Draco happily clapped along.

When it stopped, he quickly turned to Hermione, his face suddenly distraught.

"You know what I just thought about?" he asked. He wore a slight pout.

"What's that, Malfoy?" She was done trying to guess what nonsense would come out of his mouth next.

"Dragons"

Yup, she would've never guessed that.

"What about Dragons?"

"Well Dragons have birthdays, right?"

He posed a good question. Her analytical tendencies wanted to argue that, while yes, dragons are born and thus have birthdays, they don't have the intelligence to celebrate their birthdays like humans do, so it could be a subjective question. However, to her very drunk acquaintance, she just said:

"Yes - I assume so..."

"Well, dragons can't - they'll never be able to blow out their own birthday candles. How *hiccup* sad."

She facepalmed.

"You know, it's been a fun date," he said

"We're not on a date. Your friends left you and I couldn't, in good conscience, leave you by yourself in your.. current state."

"Oh. Well d'you wanna go date me sometime?"

"Let's discuss this when you sober up."

"Wrong answer. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Well Malfoy, this has been a fun.. whatever this was.. but I think it's time to get you home."

After a few minutes of slurred protest, and one last swipe at the bottle of hand sanitizer, Draco let Hermione Apparate them back to his apartment.

They arrived with a very clumsy jolt. Somehow, both of them managed to stay on their feet.

"Ooh.. head rush," Malfoy said.

Luckily, he'd appeared right next to his bed, and decided to forgo the entirety of his night time routine and just fall into the blankets.

Unluckily, he'd forgotten he was still attached to Hermione's arm, and brought her right down with him. She fell with an, "OOOF."

She let herself lie there for a few seconds, a little hopeful that Malfoy would just go to sleep so that she could escape to her own apartment, but when she finally decided to remove her arm from his, she felt his hand grasp hers.

"Please don't go," he said. His eyes, though open, drooped sleepily.

"You won't sleep well if I stay with you." She adjusted the blankets around him.

Why did a part of her actually want to stay? Did she expect him to remember any of this in the morning?

She told herself it was her own morality that made her consider accepting his request, and that she'd feel horrible if she left him alone while he was this intoxicated.

As if he was reading her mind -

"Please stay," he said again, though his voice was growing quieter as sleep threatened to take him.

And so, she stayed.