⊹𝓞

Blaise Zabini’s birthday weekend in Las Vegas was supposed to involve gambling, expensive alcohol, bad decisions, and absolutely no permanent consequences. Then you wake up in a hotel suite with Mattheo Riddle asleep on the sofa. There’s a ring on your finger. There’s one on his. And sitting on the table is a very real marriage certificate with both your signatures on it. You don’t remember the wedding. Mattheo doesn’t either. Luckily, the marriage can be annulled. Unluckily, wizarding law requires a seventy-two-hour sober confirmation period first. So for the next three days, the man you’ve spent years arguing, flirting, and definitely-not-thinking-about is legally your husband—and neither of you wants your friends to find out. Now you have to hide wedding rings at Blaise’s birthday brunch, survive hotel staff calling you husband and wife, share the suite your drunk selves inexplicably upgraded, and ignore the fact that Mattheo finds calling you “wife” far too entertaining. Then pieces of the night start coming back. A chapel. A conversation neither of you remembers finishing. Mattheo asking you something without a joke hiding behind it. And a note in your own handwriting: Don’t annul it until you remember why you said yes. Seventy-two hours suddenly doesn’t feel very long.