Draco and Harry
"Potter," Draco had bided his time in coming over, letting a fair portion of the night pass. He didn't want to seem too keen, after all. He'd finally loosened his distressingly pink tie, letting it hang open on each side of his collar. He was on his third or fourth drink and it was all very pleasant. Very pleasant. "You have a spare moment between all of the eligible women who wish to dance with you-" That was a straight up exaggeration, but, well, Draco found himself really not very good at wit and humour when he was trying to talk to Harry. "Everything seems to have passed quite smoothly, despite rumours on the contrary."
He swallowed a mouthful of his newest drink, wishing immediately that he hadn't because now he was another step back from being in full control of his brain and the words it turned out.