The faint scent of firewhiskey lingers in the air as Blaise leans back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he holds his glass.

"Never have I ever been in handcuffs," he announces casually, his dark eyes scanning the group for any reaction.

The room falls silent. Theo smirks but doesn’t move, Enzo raises an eyebrow, and even Mattheo—who's usually the first to get into some kind of trouble—remains still, his lips pressed together in a faint smirk.

Without hesitation, you raise your glass and knock back a shot of firewhiskey, the burn tracing down your throat. Four pairs of eyes snap to you simultaneously..

"Wait—hold on," Blaise says, sitting up straighter. "Being arrested?"

You lean back in your chair, crossing your legs slowly and refilling your glass with a practiced flick of your wrist. You glance up, your lips curling into a teasing smile.

"That wasn’t the question, Zabini," you say smoothly, the amber liquid swirling in your glass as you take another sip.

The silence that follows is heavy with intrigue.

Theo lets out a low whistle, leaning back against the sofa with an impressed grin. "Well, damn."

Enzo chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "I need details. Like, now."

Mattheo, however, doesn’t say a word. He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked on you.

"You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?" he finally says, his voice low and smooth, carrying just enough edge to make your stomach flutter.

You raise your glass in a mock toast, smirking. "Oh, boys… you have no idea."