Warnings: Suggestion, public drunkenness, someone taking advantage of said drunkenness (without any real issues of consent involved, IMO, but YMMV).

Author's Notes: For the slythindor100 advent challenge.


Draco had suggested they go out for drinks to celebrate having managed to work as partners for a whole month now without even coming close to killing each other.

Of course Harry had said yes. Given how hard Harry had struggled to finally get Draco to want to be in the same room as him, the fact that Harry knew he was a complete lightweight and would probably make a fool of himself hadn't seemed sufficient reason to turn down Draco's offer to voluntarily spend time together.

Anyway, Harry had figured he'd only drink the one glass, so it wouldn't be a problem.

Instead, by the end of the night Draco was grunting slightly under Harry's weight as he hauled Harry bodily out the pub door.

"Honestly, Potter, you've been the guest of honour at how many Ministry galas now? How is it, after all that, that you still can't handle a few glasses of wine?"

"Nngh, dunno," was about the most eloquent thing Harry could come up with to say just then. Then he thought to add, "Hey, skin's nice." Harry whispered the words into the curve of Draco's neck as he leaned even more heavily into him.

"Nice? Please. My skin is perfect, thank you. Just like the rest of me. And don't you forget it."

In a brief moment of lucidity, Harry considered that he was probably doomed to forget a lot more about this night than just Draco's skin. It was a shame, really. Harry would have liked to remember how nice Draco smelled this close, if nothing else. In fact, Harry was so intent on inhaling that scent deeply that he forgot to continue moving forward and dragged Draco to a sudden stop as well.

"Merlin, help me out a little here, you lump. They're called feet. Use them."

Harry did try to comply. He really did. He just wasn't particularly successful, was all.

Nor did he want to be, when it came down to it. Standing there with Draco's arms around him, supporting him like that, was intimate enough that he could fool himself that it was a proper embrace, and that if he just tilted his head a little to the right he could kiss Draco, and Draco would actually let him.

"I've only got so much charity to give," Draco warned. "If you don't at least try to help me get you to the Apparition point, I'll forget all about Side-Alonging you home and just leave you in an alley somewhere to ride it out."

"I'd ride you in an alley," Harry slurred thoughtlessly.

Draco snickered. "Would you now? Perfect Potter is actually willing to dirty his flawless white image by risking being caught in public screwing an ex-Death Eater?"

"Not perfect," Harry muttered petulantly. "Like things dirty."

"You know," Draco said, sounding a mixture of entertained and intrigued, "I suspected the minute you polished off your fifth glass that you were going to spend the night acting like an even bigger idiot than usual. But I would have set up a recording spell to immortalise the whole thing if I'd known you'd be this amusing while you were at it. I suppose the Pensieve memories will just have to do."

In retrospect, though, Harry didn't actually need the Pensieve to figure out what had happened.

Yes, it was true that when he woke up the next morning he seemed to have forgotten everything that had occurred from that point onwards the previous night, and a lot of what had preceded those couple of shared moments outside the pub as well.

But, to be honest, finding Draco lying in his bed alongside him, naked, was actually pretty self-explanatory.

And, just as soon as he got rid of his hangover, anything that Harry had forgotten could easily be relearned. It was the perfect excuse for a repeat performance.

~FIN~