Ginny cast him a glare at his snort, but her heart wasn't really in it and she flopped back at the foot of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. In normal circumstances, she'd have found it strange to be lying on the same bed as Blaise Zabini, but hell. They'd been drop-dead drunk last night and nothing had happened. It certainly wasn't going to with them both sporting massive hangovers.
Speaking of which, her head was pounding. "Hotel," was Ginny's helpful answer. "Doubt either of us could apparate, so we can't be too far from the bar." If they could have apparated, they'd be back at their respective homes, anyway.