It is all going fine until Seamus drunkenly climbs onto the table, points at Draco and bellows “I command you to take a shot and dance like the pretty little gay boy you are!”
The laughter that had been filling Blaise and Hermione's new apartment evaporates instantly, and Lavender giggles nervously, as Draco slowly puts his glass of wine down on the brand new oak coffee table and raises an eyebrow at Seamus, “Excuse me?”
“You! Shots! Dance! You probably can't hold your drink, so it would be grand entertainment! Dance!” Seamus slurrs loudly, pointing at Draco with his tin of muggle beer, a few drips hitting Hermione's new plum coloured carpet.
“I don't dance,” Draco sneers in response, before shrugging, “I am however perfectly capable of drinking you under the table. Line of shots, Finnigan? Fastest wins. Let's see who can walk better afterwards shall we? Never mind dancing.”
“But Draco, he's already pissed-” Harry begins only for the blond to cut him off.
“And he started this. His fault, not mine. He's a highly offensive little shite that needs to be taught a lesson,” Draco informs him bluntly as chatter breaks out again and hands start handing over bottles, shot glasses being conjured from no where as Hermione groans in the corner and Blaise laughs heartily.
Harry shakes his head and takes Draco by the elbow, pulling him into the hallway where they squeeze past Theo Nott, who Harry still doesn't trust, and step over a passed out Susan Bones, “Draco, Seamus is an arse. Don't get into a drinking game with him. You will only end up with a headache in the morning and you're a fucking nightmare when you're hungover.”
Draco scowls and folds his arms over his chest, “You don't think I can hold my drink either, do you?”
Harry blinks, recognising the trap and not wanting to fall into it, “You're a, what do you call it? Sophisticated drinker? You drink wine and posh imported cider from France and Belgium or some shite, Draco. Seamus is a pisshead who barely makes it to work on a Monday morning.”
“He called me a pretty little gay boy and demanded that I dance,” Draco replies testily and Harry smirks.
“Well, you are gay and Merlin you're more than pretty,” he begins, only for Draco to huff and cut him off again.
“I don't dance. He doesn't get to ask me to dance. I'm a Malfoy.”
“You're also at a muggleborn's house warming because she's shacked up with your best friend,” Harry points out, “Things change. Why is Seamus asking you to dance annoying you so much? He's a-”
“Drunk little shite, yes, we've been over that,” Draco drawls, sounding irritated as they hear Ron's rather rude demand that Draco return to the living room, “I'm a Malfoy though, I don't back down.”
“So...you've decided the best way to defend your Malfoy pride or whatever is a drinking competition, in muggle Leeds, with Seamus Finnigan?” Harry states slowly, before Draco takes a deep breath, arches his back so his chest sticks out a little and nods.
“Yes, yes I have. Now you can either stand there and gawk like a fool, Potter, or you can come and see me wipe the floor with his arse,” Draco states arrogantly before nodding to himself and stumbling off back towards the living room, an eruption of cheers greeting his arrival.
“Stubborn bastard. I'm not drunk enough for this,” Harry states to himself, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, before making his way back towards the living room via the kitchen for another drink.
On his return he finds that Draco has shed his waistcoat, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and sat himself down on one side of the small table while Seamus sits on the other. Hermione is curled up in Blaise's lap with a bottle of wine, glass long forgotten, looking more interested in the whole thing than she was the last time that Harry had seen her. Ron appears to have been given the responsibility of refereeing the competition as Pansy Parkinson of all people pours out the shots on his orders. Harry recognises the bottles of fire-whiskey, gin, vodka, a bottle of Ogden's recent product of explode in your mouth dark rum, and then a whole host of other bottles he's never seen before.
Vaguely, he thinks he's going to have to drag Draco into the floo by his feet at this rate.
He takes a moment to reflect, as his old class mates start to jeer and encourage both Seamus and Draco, about how much things have changed. Harry would never have thought this sort of thing might be possible before but then again he never expected to survive the war with so many of his classmates doing the same or end up in a relationship with Draco Malfoy. Things were different now. House boundaries didn't matter any more and he could honestly say that Blaise and Hermione were perfect for each other in many ways. Draco said it made his teeth fall out and Harry was unnerved by it at times as well but still.
It was normal now to go out for a drink with Pansy Parkinson, sometimes without Draco, and that was a world away from his teenage years. It was better though. They had moved on and moved forward while never forgetting and it was creating a better world to live in.
“Ready to humiliate yourself, Finnigan? Though, of course, you manage that every time you dress yourself,” Draco states coldly and Harry is snapped from his musings as an 'Ooooooh' goes around the room.
Seamus smiles, and Harry can tell he is already more wasted than he when Harry pulled Draco from the room, “I'm a Gryffindor son, I was born ready. You ready to dance?”
“I won't be dancing.”
“Will if I win,” Seamus announces, “Draco is so pretty isn't he lads and ladies! We want to see him dance!”
'Dance! Dance! Dance' echoes around the room as Lavender slaps her hands on the floor to emphasise her point while Parvati falls into her giggling and Harry thanks Merlin for silencing spells and wards.
Draco merely smiles, and it is harsh and slightly dangerous, “Make that your bet if you like. I won't be losing so it doesn't matter.”
More jeers fill the room and even Harry can't help laughing now because that is so Draco and he wouldn't change him. Shoving Daphne Greengrass over a little, he edges his way onto the end of the couch and cheers with the rest of them when Pansy pours the last two shots and lifts the bottle triumphantly into the air. Whatever she says is drowned out, but Harry is laughing and Ron's eyes shine with excitement as he lifts his wand into the air,
“When I shoot the sparks, start drinking. Start at the other end. When you put the glass down at my end I set off more sparks and you win! Ready!” Then red sparks hit the roof, whether they are ready or not, and the room explodes into shouts as Draco and Seamus start on their shots. Hermione, drunk as Harry as ever seen her, starts the 'Go! Go! Go!' chant and then Harry is clapping in time with it and Seamus is gagging and Pansy's cackle rises over the racket.
Harry gets so wrapped up in it all that when the sparks go off he doesn't even know who has won but claps anyway, laughing, head spinning because he drank that last beer far too fast. Then Draco is stumbling to his feet and Pansy is throwing herself at him and it clicks for Harry.
He might have shouted something because people laugh but he isn't sure. It is probably something Draco will deem sappy and give him a row for later but Harry doesn't care. He pulls Draco, Pansy too, towards him and drags them both into a hug before Pansy pulls out from under them and disappears from his vision.
“Thought you didn't approve?” Draco slurs, or at least that is what Harry thinks he slurs but he only laughs.
“I didn't but I didn't want you to lose to Seamus of all people once you got started!” he half-shouts into Draco's ears. Despite being totally off his face, Draco still manages to raise an eyebrow and glower at him before he's pulled away by Dean and Theo to be paraded around the room in some sort of strange victory parade as Seamus lies passed out in the middle of the floor.
Still laughing, Harry flops back onto the couch before someone can steal his seat and leans over Daphne to poke Hermione in the side. He expects a telling off and gets a giggle instead as she shifts on Blaise's lap.
“Harry! What is it?”
“This has been a good party!”
“Yeah but, I bet they have got a mess on my floor though,” she moans, suddenly leaning over to have a look and nearly overbalancing.
“You have magic to fix that,” Harry reminds her.
“Oh yes, I'm a witch aren't I? Well, that is good. Get me another drink!” she demands, and Harry bursts out laughing because Hermione has never let herself go this much before, and he decides it is just another reason to approve of Blaise before he heads off to the kitchen.
As he is coming back he hears someone shout 'Ring of Fire!' and rolls his eyes. Here they go again.