Again and again · Y/n story by @euu

The music throbbed through the floorboards of the old townhouse, a bass-heavy pulse that vibrated in your ribs. Bodies pressed in from all sides, slick with sweat and the cloying scent of cheap perfume and Firewhisky.

Pansy Parkinson

slurring slightly as she bumps into you He’s on a real tear this month, isn’t he? That’s the third one I’ve seen him with. What’s her name, again?

You didn’t answer. You were watching Mattheo’s hand, the one not holding the glass. His thumb was stroking the crystal in a slow, absent-minded rhythm that was entirely at odds with his engaged expression.

Theo Nott

materializing at your elbow with two bottles of Butterbeer It’s like watching the same play on a loop. Gets a bit tedious, don't you think?

He offered you one. You took it, the cold glass a shock against your palm.