Miss Slytherin

Pureblood

Drinking was something Slytherins did best at, honing it at their 3rd year in Hogwarts just as they got their first taste of freedom in Hogsmeade. Only that, his first taste of the addicting liquid was sweet and not at all bitter as what he was drinking now. He remembered that aftermath of the gruesome day of 3rd year, a week straight of being drunk, another week nursing his poor hang over. Some events blurry, but at some point he was sure that he wrestled an over grown Venus flytrap in the green house, and lost of course. Never the proudest memory, fabricated by his intoxication or not.

But the point was that, due to the nature of their tolerance for alcohol, they were somewhat able to tolerate its effects. At least to Theo's knowledge as he started his fun at 7pm just before the ball started. Stealing a bottle of Fire whiskey that he and Blaise have been saving for a rainy day, he suddenly had the craving of drinking the moment he saw Blaise pre gamed his snogging in their room.

Not really up to bother his friend about roommate decency, he walked out their dorm, walked out the dungeons, up the stairs to the astronomy room. Loosening his tie before opening the large whiskey bottle, each ten steps up the staircase was a long swig from the bottle until he arrived in the empty tower. He should be in the great hall right about now, he should be with his friends, he should be with his date— wait, what date?

He scoffed at himself as he sat down on the floor, with his feet close to the balcony edge of the tower, letting the cold winter breeze get to him. The idea of asking someone to the Yule ball was a joke, he didn't really intend to go with someone at all at first. It was of course until he met Heart, Finley's new friend, pretty and cheery, not annoying at all. Bonding over food and their innate curiosity for gossip around their respective schools. She was his first choice to ask to the ball, only he was too late that is, pesky ginger head Weasley twin got to her first.

Then there was Blaise, they both decided that it would be fine to go to the ball together, stag of course as what he, Blaise, and Finley agreed when they heard of the Tournament tradition. Only that Sebastian just had to ask Finley out that he and Blaise were pressured to get dates. Turns out that he was the only one without a date after all.

"Hey," a familiar voice spoke, catching hid attention, looking back towards the tower entrance, he could see Finley standing there. Face sad for some reason, his only guess was that Malfoy ruined her night.

"Hey," he greeted back, placing down the bottle he was about to drink from his lips, setting it on the floor. He could see that she was holding her shoes, her eyes welling up with unshed tears, knowing that she was trying to keep herself together as she was too stubborn to cry for anyone, especially Malfoy, that blond ferret shit.

She slowly walked towards him, setting down her shoes beside her. "Fire whiskey?" He offers her, handing her the bottle, watching her as she took a long swig from the bottle. "Have you been drinking alone for the whole evening?" Finley asks him.

"I haven't seen you in the great hall at all," she tells him. Making him force out a smile, a humourless smile.

"Been here since Blaise and his date had a pre snog in our dorm, took a bottle of fire whiskey from under the floor boards for good measure," he tells her, not telling her the whole truth that he didn't want to show up at the ball alone, and that mystery date he told them about was non existent. "I thought that I didn't want to be sober in there."

"I should've went with that too."

Letting the peaceful silence cover the both of them, Theo let Finley on his shoulder, having her head's weight kept him grounded. Keeping his mind from wandering into places he didn't really want to visit.

"Where have you been?"

Theo stopped in his tracks as he entered the common room. Seeing that the area had been mostly empty apart from the one male who sat on one of the emerald couches, wearing his dress shirt and slacks, two button of his shirt open. Sporting a scowl on his face, only a handful of times was that scowl ever purposely directed at him, this counted.