Draco woke up to the feeling of cold on his ankles. And calves, and knees. He sat up blearily, letting the room spin around him for a moment before blinking owlishly at the world around him. Where am i? He thought, And why does my head hurt so much? Stifling a yawn, he at last oriented himself. Muggle. Room. Inn. Drinking. Lovely lady-muggle. That last one caught at his attention, as he made a moue (Malfoys did not pout, his mother had been quite strict on that point) - she was gone. He vaguely concluded that he missed the feeling of her warmth in his arms. He listened quietly, careful not to move a muscle. Not coming back, then. he thought, and as his thoughts turned darker, his mordant question echoed in his skull, Why didn't I even get her name? Draco succumbed to drowsiness, and the very clear insistence of his body that excessive movement would be quite painful indeed. As he lay down, he buried his nose where she had slept, inhaling the mixture of her scent and the citrus scent of her arousal.
An hour later, Draco woke with the pressing sensation of a bladder that needs to be emptied. Knowing there was no way he was sleeping past this, he stood and walked to the loo (luckily dodging any other patrons who might be startled at his lack of dress or decorum). He shook his head as he held himself, waiting for his morning wood to subside so that he could whizz. He hadn't meant to stay out this long - Pansy would be worried. She'd not know how to help if he had been in trouble, Draco was well aware, but it did slightly warm his normally cold heart to think of her fleeting concern (he didn't for a moment think she'd miss her beauty sleep waiting up for him). Draco returned to his room without incident, and proceeded to get dressed. Glancing for only a second into the mirror, he realized that his clothes were rumpled, and that his hand dragging over his hair only succeeded in - Blast! I didn't want to look like Potter this morning!
Feeling undone - that precise feeling of "I'm not ready yet", Draco Malfoy strolled down the stairs, settling his rather lengthy tab (had he really drunk all that?) and paying for the room without incident (he could tell because the look on the wench's face was grateful and not startled or hateful.)*
He mimicked the stride of a businessman, the brusque nodding as he headed back to his parents apartment. The visage was contagious, and by the time he was heading up the stairs to the flat, his mien was that of a fully entitled, "things to do" businessman. At least it was until he stepped in the door, and caught sight of Professor Snape sitting on his couch as if he had been visiting.
Shite.
*Draco overpaid.
[Apparently Draco decided that wandering in the buff was appropriate behavior for an inn with a single loo. Either that or, since he won't be recognized, he could just behave as he willed.
This scene is dedicated to the countless hourslong discussions I have had with members of the opposite sex, in which we never bothered to learn each other's name
Snape said I had to end it there. Hate him, not me. If you want more of this story, leave a review!].