Ohhhhh, kids, Terry was plastered. Yeah, he knew he would be able to keep pounding them back until around three or four, but he had been drinking since noon, and with picking up the pace since the party began, yeah, he was gone. The past thirty minutes, Terry had been dancing with so much vigor that he had soaked himself with sweat.
Which, of course, meant that he was one song away from taking off his shirt. Happy new year, ladies, get a load of the sexymeat special, courtesy HIM.
Terry was pouring himself another cup of the punch--spiked so much that it was practically flamable--and turning around to head back to the dancefloor when Ginny appeared right in his line of vision. Gulping back a few mouthfuls, he practically tossed his cup aside as he staggered to her.
"Awww, Weasley, your boobs," he moaned, slapping his hands to his face. He gave her a hopeful look. "Is this your party favor for midnight? Can I honk them for you?"