As he was shoved away, Flint's fingers tightened the tiniest bit on Twink's wrist. Confusion flashed through his mind as to why the kiss had been broken off mid flow, but George moving his legs from the table was enough of a distraction for him not to worry too hard. The back of his thighs hit the solid desk, but he barely felt it.
Something inside him reared up at Twink's words. He didn't like the thought of the red head with anyone else. Especially not Jacques. 'Not too drunk.' He muttered, a slight growl to his voice. To prove his point, he released the wrist he still held, instead leaning down to lift Twink from the chair. Stealing a kiss, he snaked one hand beneath the waistband of the Gryffindor's jeans.
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