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chapter fifty-three. ( happiness is a butterfly ) cw: mentions of reliance on alcohol.
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DRINKING WAS NEVER A GOOD ROUTE for Ascella Black to take. She always took it a step too far, casual drinking a mere myth to the Black witch. But drinking always gave her an out, a moment of tranquility where her troublesome thoughts stilled and she was allowed a sliver of a life where she was just an ordinary girl. Drinking was a comfort, and it shocked her she hadn't indulged in it more.
The Slytherins had intended for a laid-back, carefree evening in which they would share some drinks and reminisce over the summer and what other's had done whilst some were away for the entirety of the summer months. However, one bottle turned into two, and then three, and before they knew it, the group were absolutely plastered, completely out of their minds. It was to be expected, really.
With a pounding head and sunlight streaming through the emerald drapes in the dormitories, Ascella grimaced at the throbbing ache and the thick air of faint alcohol and sweat that lingered in the room. Sitting up with a hand dragging across the plane of her face, her eyes caught sight of the state of the dorm and the mess they had left in that night.
Adrian Pucey laid slumbering at the foot of the bed she rested on, loud snores escaping his open mouth and drool trickling out the side of it. Blaise had fallen asleep against the dresser, whilst Daphne had her head on Adrian's torso, deep asleep also. She swore under her breath whilst noticing the empty bottles strewn across the floor, white powder smudged onto the bedside tables and half-smoked joints, all remnants of their chaotic night of euphoria and fun.
Her idle hand reached out to hit the snoozing boy beside her, who hadn't shifted in the slightest. "Theo," she shook, still evidence of sleep in her eyes and lazy figure. "Theo — get up, Merlin."
