Drarry where the Golden Trio are having a slightly tipsy 'Hear me out' conversation as they passed around a bottle of Elvish wine that they nicked from Slughorn's office.
"What about Gordon Horton?"
Harry and Hermione shared a confused look.
"Come on! Keeper for the Chudley Canons?"
"You're supposed to pick people we know, Ronald."
"Well excuse me," Ron said, throwing his hands in the air. "I forgot that you two have no taste."
"No taste! I will have you know that my taste is sophisticated and refined. Clearly something you don't relate to."
"Oh, oh, I see. Well since your taste is so sophisticated then by all means tell us who is your pick."
"There's Merrill Medlar. She's the chief editor of—"
"Who the hell is that? What happened to people we know?"
Harry hadn't had enough wine to tolerate their constant bickering.
"Malfoy," Harry said loudly, interrupting what would have surely been a row. "What about Malfoy?"
"Which one?" Ron and Hermione said at the same time before glaring at each other.
"What do you mean which one?" Harry frowned. "The choice is obviously—"
"Lucius." They said in unison again.
"What?" Harry gaped at them. "Lucius is a right piece of—"
"Wait," Hermione held up her hands, eyes wide. "You can't mean Draco then?"
"Don't say his name! Ugh, I never want to know him as Draco," Ron said, shuddering.
"Maybe I do!" Harry said, unsure why he was getting heated.
