WHO: @ofpansy & @nottheoretical WHERE: Blaise’s townhouse, Cambridge WHEN: 5 June 2003.
The bottle revolved slowly onwards, crawling to a halt in some separate pocket of time where that complete disregard for the few thin boundaries that he had still been trying to respect among friends (in theory at least) dissolved with the lingering reminder of Pansy’s lips, the tender indents of her teeth in his lip and her perfume stuck in his head and his heart pounding like it knew he was about to do something catastrophic with that stirring pull that had come about when a bottle-dictated kiss between her and her fiancé had turned from a placation of the crowd into a question. Blaise had questions of his own.
The empty bottle of Hermitage (of course they’d gotten into the good stuff) crept to a halt, settling upon the space in the haphazard circle that Theo was hastily retreating from and the blood rushing in Blaise’s ears was deafening, for a moment, as his eyes searched out Pansy’s, locking there for a moment in anticipation of her claim of talking Theo down and not knowing why he was rolling to his feet himself. It wasn’t concern that dictated his insistence of, “I’ll go too,” knocking the bottle towards his own neighbour to carry on the game with his foot, but he didn’t wait to be told no before hurrying off out the door Theo had slipped out of in pursuit.
@ofpansy