"We're too drunk to Apparate."
"We are not."
Draco narrowed his eyes. Harry was swaying back and forth, his eyelids shuttering and shooting back up with each step he took. He most certainly was too drunk.
"You are."
"I'm not," Harry insisted. "Here, I'll show you."
"Harry, no—"
But it was too late. Harry had seized his hand and suddenly, they were spinning. Draco, in his inebriated state, wanted to vomit, yet before he could, he was shocked by pain so terrible he swallowed it instead.
"ARGH!"
They landed in a pile in their bedroom.
"See, I told you I could—Draco?"
Draco was cradling his foot on the floor, which was quickly collecting a puddle of blood. A slice of his boot was missing . . . along with his big toe.
"Potter, I warned you!"
"Draco, I—I didn't think I—I've Apparated drunk so many times—"
"Well, didn't work this time, did it?" Draco moaned in agony. "Get the dittany and . . ." He sighed. "And Floo Granger."
"Hermione?" Harry asked, confusedly. "But you—"
"I know, I know. Just get her."
Harry did as he was told, and because of Hermione Granger, Draco's big toe was saved.