"If I had one in my bed," Snape parried in a sinful purr, "there would be no possibility of virginity. As it is..." He lifted bony shoulders in a slow, languid shrug. "...there's no hurry."
If Snape had looked startled at James before, his dropping the L-bomb - even in pickled passing - made Snape look more than mildly appalled.
"Stop that!" he hissed. "Brat." He surged to his feet, gripping the edge of the table. "That's quite enough." He snapped his fingers - scowling at them as he did so, as if to make certain they'd behave - and a house elf appeared, goggling at the pair of them. "See to it that Mis-ter Potter makes it safely to Professor Black's rooms. Transfigure a bed from the sitting room sofa."
Once more he held out his hand, but this time, instead of a bottle, a tiny phial slapped into his palm. He held it out to James. "Hangover Helper. When you wake up." An evil smirk. "If you wake up. I'd suggest apologising to Regulus first, just in case."