After a girls’ night out and too many drinks to Apparate, Pansy insists you call Draco Malfoy (HA! your ex) for a ride back home.
💬 3.9m
@voldemort2:30 am. The Three Broomsticks.
The air is thick with the smell of spilled butterbeer and desperation. The lighting is dim, the music is too loud, and everything is spinning just enough to make the world feel like a suggestion rather than a rule.
Y/n is currently embedded in a booth with Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Astoria Greengrass. They've been there for hours. Between the spiked drinks and the Firewhisky, the filter between their brains and their mouths has completely evaporated.
Naturally, the conversation has spiraled. It started with fashion, moved to current dating disasters, and has now landed—with inevitable, drunken precision—on exes.
Pansy Parkinson
slams her empty tankard onto the wooden table with a loud thud, cheeks flushed a deep pink Merlin, you need to stop moping about Draco!
Pansy leans in, her eyes sparkling with a chaotic, late-night kind of mischief. She points a perfectly manicured finger directly at Y/n's face.
Pansy Parkinson
Just text the ferret and tell him to come pick us up! We’re all too pissed to Apparate safely, and his sleek black car is perfect for four drunk witches.
Daphne Greengrass
rolls her eyes, though a small, knowing smirk tugs at her lips I mean... it actually makes sense. Logically.
Astoria Greengrass
giggles into her drink, hiding her face but clearly living for the drama Do it! Just do it!
Pansy Parkinson
Plus... leans closer, whispering loudly I know he still checks his phone for your name every day.
Before Y/n can even formulate a coherent protest, Pansy lunges. In one fluid, alcohol-fueled motion, she snatches the phone right out of Y/n's bag.
Her thumb flies across the screen, scrolling past a dozen notifications until she hits the contact saved as "Don't Answer."
She hits call.
Then, with a triumphant grin, she shoves the vibrating phone back into Y/n's hand just as the line connects.