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"Would you be quiet—!" My words were interrupted by my own gasp, sharply sucking in air as I stumbled over a pile of clothes on the floor; the only thing separating my body from the floor being Malfoy.

I could feel his hand on my back steading me, and I quickly shook it off as I skipped away from him, a little unsteady on my own two feet.

"If you'd tell me what the fuck you're looking for, Hayes—" He grumbled, eyes on the floor and annoyance lacing his voice. "And why on earth you're drunk?"

"Is there any other appropriate state to be in on New years eve?" I shot back half-heartedly, voice muffled as I shrugged him off. Without waiting for an answer, I reassured, "This is Potter's dorm, yeah?"

Taking a disapproving look around, he nodded. "The room looks messy even in their absence," He snickered, rolling his eyes simultaneously. "Could only be theirs."

An amused huff escaped my lips as my eyes followed his gaze onto the unmade bed stood against the wall, red curtains hanging loosely; one fully drawn, while the other hung on for dear life.

Even though it seemed they would've taken all their clothes with them, jumpers, socks and even a pair of jeans were still scattered across the unmade sheets; seeming as if someone had slept in it just last night when it's been almost two weeks since both Potter and Weasley — whose bed we were looking at right now — had last been in the castle.

My gaze darted over to the bed right next to it — at least this one was made— and I simply assumed it would be Potter's as I staggered towards it, mind still half-hazed as the alcohol began to lose its effect on me.

I was far from sober, but at least I could grasp coherent thoughts again.

"So?"

I didn't bother turning around as Malfoy spoke up, annoyance lacing his words as the syllable fled his lips in an equally confusing tone.

"So?" I simply muttered back, already rummaging through the unlocked shelves in Potter's nightstand in hopes I'd find his invisibility cloak in there somewhere.

"Dean Thomas—?"

I cut him off before the name properly slipped past his lips, my head shaking at the mocking tone in his voice.

"I'm not talking to you about that."

My voice was harsh, leaving no room for argument as I slammed the drawer shut forcefully and immediately got on my knees to crouch underneath Potter's bed.

My wand in hand, it illuminated the mess underneath it, dust tickling my nose until it coerced a muffled sneeze out of me.

It looked far more promising down here, compared to the drawer. Yet, I wasn't getting my hopes up to find anything in the mess presented.

It seemed, while Weasley was the type to live in the mess he called his bed proudly, Potter was just as messy, though had enough decency to try and hide it.

A singular snicker from the blond still stood behind me — by now, unknowingly leaning against the post of a bed as he watched me carefully — caught my attention, and my head hit the edge of the bed as I tried to throw him a glare.

The harsh contact had swears flee my lips, grumbling insults as I decided to simply keep my head underneath the bed instead of trying to come up a second time.

"What?" I hissed instead, a cough escaping my mouth at another wave of dust hurling in my direction after pushing a set of books to the side.

Eyes widening as a piece of ancient-looking fabric emerged from under a pile of clothes, I reached for it at the same time as a mildly amused huff escaped Malfoy's lips.

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