- 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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꧁✧✧✧꧂
𝕭eing back within the stone walls of Hogwarts was both a blessing and a curse.
Because whilst initially Romie had been buzzing to see her best friends again, talk with them, laugh with them, the buzz very quickly wilted down into next to nothing, leaving no lasting effects to keep her going. If prizes were being awarded for the most shattered and knackered, Romie's trophy for first place would stand tall and proud behind the Snitch on her dresser in the dorm.
And it was all to do with diving head first back into the tedious school days, twelve inch roll of parchment essays assigned for each subject and poor timing of the month. Nothing at all to do with the short, springy, single mattress she tosses back and forth on at night, barely able to sleep a wink by dint of the huge, empty void, gulf, abyss opening up inside of her without permission. At most, just the acclimatisation back to Gryffindor tower's mattresses after sleeping on the cloud the Potters insisted on her having. Nothing else.
Entering the Great Hall, Romie makes a bee line for the Gryffindor table, not even batting an eyelid to the broken sequence of crimson red where she usually sits. Canary yellow, midnight blue. Forest green. Heavily, she slumps down on the spot reserved for her arse, making Hestia jerk upwards and spill tea down the front of her blouse. Romie's barely finished her mumbled apology and clean up spell when she hears from across the table,
"Merlin's beard, you look ghastly"
An overly blissful sigh sounds from the Gryffindor, eyes fluttering closed to give the full effect of her declaration.
"Oh, to know all you have to do when in low spirits is to seek out Evan Rosier for his heart warming compliments. Mood instantly lifted"
Mood instantly soured, is actually what her face screams seconds later, the plum smears of exhaustion underneath her eyes, the same shade as them. Evan takes the sardonic undertones as a pinch of salt, cheerfully swinging an arm over the stiff shoulders of the boy on his right, directly across from Romie.
"Took the words right out of your mouth, eh Reg?"
For the first time since sitting down, Romie appraises Regulus, marginally intrigued to discover him in a condition not much different than herself. Skin not porcelain pale, more ashen and grey, cheeks hollowed to a greater degree than usual. Romie's not the only one insomnolent. Under droopy lids, he meets her gaze, shrugging Evan's arm off him. Only then does he let go of the magically refilling mug of black coffee he's been clutching throughout breakfast, hunching over to aid his arms on their stretch outwards.
It's slow, gradual, like every movement aches from the heaviness of his bones. Purely for the reason of knowing exactly how he's feeling, Romie meets him halfway, making it easy, over the table, leaning into the hold clasping around her neck and shoulders. Leaning into the coffee stained lips lightly stroking against the apple of her cheek. Peeled eyes are on them, dotted around the Hall, peeled eyes are on them, savouring their daily dose of couple content.
