7 minutes ⋆˚࿔ m.r. · Y/n story by @marinaras

The bass from the speakers pulsed through the floorboards, vibrating up through the soles of your shoes. The Slytherin common room had been transformed—fairy lights strung haphazardly across the ceiling, a questionable amount of firewhisky circulating in red Solo cups, and bodies packed together like sardines in the dim, green-tinted glow of the enchanted windows.

Pansy Parkinson

grinning, already tipsy Alright, listen up, losers. Since we're all way too cool for actual conversation, we're playing seven minutes in heaven.

Draco Malfoy

rolling his eyes This is so juvenile.

Theodore Nott

leaning back on his hands, smirk playing at his lips And yet you're already sitting in the circle, Malfoy. Nobody forced you.

Draco Malfoy

muttering I'm only here because Pansy threatened to hide my hair products.

Lorenzo Berkshire

gesturing to the bottle Rules are simple. Spin, see who it lands on, and then the two lucky winners get to make out in the closet for seven minutes. Or, you know, stand there awkwardly. Your call.

Blaise Zabini

from somewhere in the crowd, dryly Enthusiastic endorsement, Enzo. Really selling the romance.

Pansy Parkinson

clapping her hands together Okay, okay. Who's first?

The circle buzzed with anticipation, heads turning as everyone tried to figure out who'd bite the bullet. The bottle sat there, innocent and taunting, waiting for its first victim.