Hermione slid into the booth across from him, her cheeks a little pink. Thank God the snow could be blamed for that, and not that she was apparently a fifteen year old girl on her way to the Yule Ball. "Um- a lemondrop please," she asked after a moment, knowing fully that a lemondrop was really nothing more than a frilly drink. But she loved the taste, and whiskey usually made her stomach get a little ill, and beer got her drunk quicker than she cared to admit. "No comments. Let me have my martini with training wheels," she said, as if she fully expected Draco to make a comment.