AN: this takes place post-LOS btw

Emma's POV:

Miss P is going to kill me.

Horace got invited to a party by some guy in his class; I figured it would be perfectly harmless, but I decided to tag along just to make sure there wasn't any alcohol at the party, and Miss Peregrine agreed with this.

And, as it turned out, there was alcohol at the party; it was in the punch; we had a little just because why not; but I can actually hold my liquor, unlike Horace, who was presently sitting on a chair, cracking up at the wall.

I went over to him and told him it was time to go back to the house.

He waved me off and slurred, "not now; I love this show!" Then he just started cracking up, slapping his knee.

"Uh... You know that's a wall, right?"

"So that's what it's called!" He grinned. "I'll have to get the boxed set!"

I put my hand on his shoulder and said, "Horace, you're higher than a kite; I'm driving you home immediately."

"Hey why'd my parents named me that?" He slurred, head lolling to the side, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Do me a favor, Emily; I wanna be called Hore from now on."

I shook my head, barely able to contain the laughter. "No one's calling you Hore."

"Please, Emily?"

"Also, my name's not 'Emily'; it's just Emma. You're wasted. We're going home."

"Whatever. Okay." He slurred and struggled to get up, as his coordination was completely out of whack. "I just need to use the little boys' room first." He took one shaky step and ran into the wall. He hugged the wall and moaned, "too late."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew."

"There's so much shit in my underpants!" He yelled.

Blushing, I took his arm and helped him walk towards the door.

"I can drive." He slurred when we got to the car. "I'm perfectly sober!"

"No! Absolutely not! I wouldn't even let you drive if you were sober!" I helped him into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt.

I drove us through the streets of London and, when I got to the house, snuck in so that no one would see or hear us. I made sure Horace got tucked into bed and actually stayed there before going to bed myself; luckily, he had passed out cold on the drive home.

The next morning at breakfast, Horace came down with dark circles under his eyes. "Could you keep it down?" He asked clearly. "I am quite hung-over."

Miss P turned to me. "Care to explain this, Miss Bloom?"

I quickly explained how there'd been alcohol at the party and Horace had gotten drunk, and Miss P was very mad; after sending Horace back upstairs to sleep it off, she grounded me for two weeks.