He felt like shit.
His stomach felt like he was going to be sick at any moment and his head was pounding so much he could have sworn a drummer had taken up residence there overnight. His semi-conscious brain wondered if he had any Hangover Potions. He didn't remember if he had packed any before leaving home. He was always seeming to need them nowadays...
He gave another louder groan as he tried to bury himself under the covers. He hoped to Merlin no one would come in and force him to ge up. He didn't give a fuck if it was the first day of his seventh year. What did he have to look forward to? His father was in jail, his mother was dead, and Potter.... Oh fuck. Potter.
Draco's groan this time was agonized as a bit of the previous night slipped into his memory. Most of the details were fuzzy, but he was pretty sure he had seen him last night.
Draco didn't even want to know what he might possibly have done. He just wanted to stay in his bed for the rest of his life, or at least until the hangover was gone.