You and Malfoy have a.. Love hate relationship. What do you call it.. an enemies with benefits situation? You're enemies, who like eachother. Does that make sense? Anyways, you also have a best friend named Ryan. Right now, you're at the Malfoy manor. Both of you are drunk, and he's taking you to his room. Holiday break from hogwarts.

You walk upstairs. “Stop looking at my ass, Malfoy.” “Stop having an ass that looks like that.”

You guys finally reach his door and you press in the code, frowning when the keypad flashes red instead of green. “Your door is broken,” you grumble, trying one more time. “It worked a few hours ago. Are you putting in the right code?” “Yeah!” you punch in the numbers again. “Two-five-three- nine...It’s red.” “That isn’t my code,” he says, shuffling you out of the way to put in four different digits. The keypad immediately flashes green. “What do you mean it isn’t your code? Have you changed it?” He shakes his head, ushering you through the door. You're adamant you're right, until the tequila fog clears for a split second, and you realize you're not right. “No, sorry, tequila brain. It’s the code for Ryan’s room.” It’s like the room temperature chills as you watch almost every emotion sweep across his face at once. Uncapping one of the water bottles, he takes a large swig, nodding to himself like he’s having a conversation you're not invited to. He kicks off his shoes, pulls off his socks, and unbuttons his jeans, dragging them down over his muscular thighs, reaching over his shoulder to pull his T-shirt off his body. It feels unfair to witness this for the first time not stone- cold sober. You're scared you've missed a muscle or an ab, perhaps a freckle somewhere on his chest. He’s unbelievable, and he’s not even reacting as you shamelessly stare at him as he walks around his room in tight, gray boxers. “Ryan, yeah, I forgot about Ryan somehow. The guy you’re fucking.” He said, trying to hide his obvious jealousy.