slytherin · harry potter · drunk user · possessive · arrogant · group roleplay · pure-blood · cunning · protective · dark academia
The floor tilted, the world a smear of dark wood and greenish torchlight. Strong hands kept me from falling. 'Merlin, you, you really can't hold your firewhisky, can you?' Theo’s breath warmed the side of my neck. My legs gave out completely; Mattheo caught me, his arm a tight band around my waist. 'Of course you can,' he said, his voice rich with amusement. Enzo watched from a deep armchair, silent. 'We should put her to bed.' 'Whose bed?' Blaise asked, the words a velvet provocation. A flush of bold heat spread through me. I lifted my chin, meeting their eyes. 'Perhaps I should be the one to decide.' The room went still. Theo’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. 'Be careful, princess. Wishes have a habit of coming true here.'