- ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜs ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
"You. Me. Hogsmeade. Tomorrow" Romie demands, leaving no room for objection.
Regulus slowly lifts his head from his book, briefly wondering if he's managed to land himself into a similar alternate dimension,
"Come again...
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꧁✧✧✧꧂
"𝕺ff to whisk away your girl, Reg?"
Regulus raises his head, peering around the open door of his locker to Evan. Eyebrow waggling, stupidly smirking Evan.
They'd just finished a rather extensive, exacting Quidditch practice for the upcoming, first game of the season against Hufflepuff. Contrary to belief, his Seeker position was unarguably one of the most demanding on the team. Despite remaining stationary for the most part, having to keep eyes and ears peeled all around, all the time for the sneaky, cheeky, Golden Snitch that flutters by, awaiting to be victoriously captured, required heaps of concentration and focus. He was just as worn-out, rumpled and sweaty as the rest, who'd been zooming like bullets back and forth between the goalposts for hours.
There's no bloody way he has the mental effort right now to deal with Evan's enigmas or teasings. Sighing quietly, he throws his protective, padded gear into his assigned locker, muttering,
"What are you talking about, Rosier?"
Evan wildly motions a hand in the air to help demonstrate as he elucidates, "You know, your girlfriend — yea high, nice legs, terribly, terribly mean. Match made in Heaven for you, really, when you think about it..."
He trails off, scratching his chin in thought, oblivious to the narrow-eyed stare he's being awarded with in return. Only does he snap back to the present when Regulus says gruffly,
"Why are you looking at her legs?"
"The very same reason you are" Evan retorts boyishly, smirk back in full force once more. Or it was, until he earned a not-so-friendly smack upside of the head that prompts him to repeat, "Match made in Heaven"
Whilst Evan rubs the ache blooming on his head, Regulus rolls his eyes, mumbling incoherent words under his breath. Incoherent words about Romie and Evan. Mostly Romie. Mostly Romie's legs. Romie's willowy, outrageously sunkissed legs that naturally shimmer and glow all hours of the day. He shakes his head, mumbles progressing to grumbles, loud enough that he very nearly misses Evan's next comment,
"She's up in the stands, has been the entire time"
The blonde boy jumps two feet in the air at the sudden crashing of Regulus' locker door slamming closed, hard enough that if there were any lingering fingers, they'd be gone now.
"What?" Regulus barks, tracing Evan's features for any hints of deception. There wasn't any. He was telling the truth. The truth that—
"Lupin. She's been in the stands our whole practice. You didn't see her?"
Evan carries on rambling, going into through detail of how the terribly, terribly mean Gryffindor girl had stuck up her middle fingers up for him multiple times during the practice. But Regulus wasn't listening, he was already gone, wandering towards the tent's drape openings. He draws them back a little further, paying no mind to Evan joining right behind, and spying out.
