Harry downed the shot of Firewhiskey Madame Rosmerta floated over to him in a flash. With a grimace at the alcohol, he punched his best friend on the arm.
"You know what I think. I think they need to invent me a chair that does what the floo does. That way, I'm not falling head over arse each time I want to go somewhere. If I start seated, I'll remain seated." He said with a nod.
"And I doubt Madame Rosmerta thinks it's a compliment. She probably just thinks wiping up your drool is gross." Harry didn't question why he wasn't affected by Madame Rosmerta's ample bosom as his friends were. He smiled at Ron and shook his head. "Would you like me to talk to her for you?" He laughed as Ron started to turn pink.