"I'm drunk," he said, wondering how this was the place where he'd felt safe enough to get drunk. Maybe because his father had been there, no doubt deeply disappointed. But also Granger. Granger would stop anyone from hurting him. He frowned at the thought. Earlier in the evening, he'd told her he could fight his own battles, then had turned around and depended on her to watch his back. "You are my protector."
"And you are definitely out of your tree, Mister," she said, her mouth slim with disapproval.
"My father thinks you're going to rape me." And now they were standing in the fireplace, the familiar tug of floo travel was turning his stomach with intense nausea. He barely held it in as he stumbled into the wall of the fireplace in the Charms room. "Ouch."
"You're father's delusional."
Her arm was around his waist and she was walking him toward their room. "I can walk."
"Really, because you just fell into a wall."
"It was the floo travel. Compromised my balance." Still, he didn't force her away, because he wasn't one hundred percent certain of his balance, and he really didn't want to fall over in front of her.
"Potter sucks cock," Granger stated. It was still the password for their apartment.
"Yes, he does," Draco said, grinning. It made him smile every time he had to say it. Even more so when she had to. She still hadn't found a way of changing it. Had to bug the hell out of her. "I have the bedroom tonight," he said pointedly. He might be drunk, but she wasn't going to trick him out of his night. It was a point he was prepared to battle over if he had to.
"Whatever," she said, leading him up the stairs.
Only a mellow light inside the room and Granger was tugging on his jacket to get it down his arms. "I think this is exactly what father fears."
"Shut up," she said and then pushed him so he fell over, landing on the bed. It was so soft beneath him and he felt himself relax instantly. Somewhere over the edge, she was taking his shoes off. Then she stood.
No, this is exactly what father feared, her in that dress, standing between his thighs. If she went for it, he could do nothing to stop her. She could take what she wanted. An image of her riding him snuck in and he closed his eyes because it wasn't anywhere near unappealing. "I'm drunk," he stated. Was the room spinning?
"Eloquent. Is that the best you could do?" He wanted to elevate himself on his elbows, but he couldn't move.
"And if you throw up on the sheets, I'm going to rub your face in it."
Maybe that was not the right thing to say. Brought new images creeping into his mind. He was going to dream that night. It was like he had a quota for sex and if he didn't make that quota in real life, his body and mind made up for it in his sleep. Alcohol fuelled dreams of fucking were tugging at his consciousness already. Didn't even hear Granger leave.
