"Ow!" Dean yelped, much more than the pinch warranted. "Did you grow bloody crab claws over the hols?" he asked, making a show of peering at Dean's fingers, holding the pint back, out of Seamus' reach still.
"I wouldn't be after a Veela. Might peck out some bits I'm fond of." Not that Fleur hadn't been fit. Very fit. Ron might have been the one who made a fool of himself over her, but that didn't mean Dean hadn't done his fair share of watching her, too. Especially watching her walk away. He was a healthy teenager at the time. He didn't think anyone would blame him.
Dean made a face, since that bit was actually a danger. Amber was lethal when she was mad at him. And his mum and dad always took her side. She did the big innocent routine loads better than he ever did. "I'm sleeping with you when I'm sleeping off the drinks, unless you kick me out to go home," he pointed out. But he relinquished the drink finally, taking a sip off the top, just to be an ass, really.