Draco has a decent tolerance for alcohol.
Last night, however, was… indecent.
“Christ, Draco, it’s two in the morning,” Harry says, and knows that this is his fault.
It’s Harry’s fault because his recently awake, apparently still tipsy boyfriend is shouting Knockback Jinxes at everything in sight.
“Flipendo,” Draco says. A wobbly streak of blue light crashes into a wall with no effect. “Flipendo!” A light fitting shatters.
Draco frowns up at what used to be the light fitting. “Not a button, then,” he says with some disappointment. He lifts a foot to tap a large decorative vase with his toe, sways drunkenly, and puts the foot down again. “D’you think this could hold a jelly bean, Harry?”
“A regular jelly bean?” Harry says carefully.
“Yes, a regular jelly bean, Potter,” Draco says, rolling his eyes, “about the size of a grapefr– ” Draco freezes, and his eyes grow wide.
Harry wills his lips not to twitch. “So you’re on the second game, then,” he says innocently.
Draco clears his throat. “Certainly not,” he lies.
Harry watches a flush creep from Draco’s collarbones up his neck. The floorboards creak under Draco’s slippered feet as he shifts his weight, fidgeting. Harry bites back a grin.
Draco draws a sharp breath. “You know my repair spells are excellent.”
“I’ll repair all this in the morning.”
“Yes, you will,” Harry says.
“I think I should come back to bed.”
“Yep,” Harry says, popping the p.
Harry finally starts laughing on the way up the stairs, and by the time they make it into bed, there are tears in his eyes.
Draco successfully shoves Harry off the bed. Harry hangs on and drags Draco with him. After a brief wrestling match (Harry wins), they collapse into giggles on the floor.
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