╰┈➤ regulus black x oc
❝every summer ends in the same way: heartbreak, hangovers, and hatred.❞
❝you're just being dramatic, ophelia.❞
☄. *. ⋆ in which ophelia potter's pre-ministry summer holiday in france accidentally turned into a romance that sh...
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ophelia potter liked coffee. there was a british stereotype that all of them loved tea, or were borderline obsessed with the beverage to a degree that was almost akin to the measure of codeine addicts, however she personally did not indulge to such an enthusiasm. she could tolerate it, of course, having a steaming mug of blueberry tea with a freshly made cookie had universal appeal, as far as she was concerned. but coffee had that kick for her.
caffeine was like her muggle rejuvenation potion, sending sparks of synthetic joy to her brain and scratching a part of her cortex she didn't know could be scratched.
there was a saying she heard among adults (as if she was not technically one), telling people to not talk to them unless they had their morning mug of coffee, and fairly, she did understand it. if you needed coffee to be able to survive human interactions, who was she to judge? she was similar in values and priorities.
one thing that toulouse was not short of was quaint little coffee shops. this was paired with the mellow energy; there was a rustic air to the cobbled streets of the city, the name of la ville rose was well earned due to the characteristic terracotta bricks which composed most of the older buildings.
her daily morning walks allowed for her to stretch her legs, wander to her heart's content, and get a cup of coffee to wash down all remnants of sleep.
she swore to merlin, that she never knew how people could look radiant in the morning. she, was, by no means not a looker, but there was a certain roguish charm about just waking up from hours of sleep that reduced her into a state of mental and physical disarray. her white halterneck would have offered quite the exposure, if it had not been for the thin knitted blouse she had tugged over it, preventing her shoulders from being subjected to the sunburn which she was sure was gracing her cheeks.
"shit."
as cliche as it was, in her opinion, of course she had to collide with someone. her thoughts tended to wander as she walked, so she should have been grateful she was not run over by some vehicle. "i'm sorry, it's my fault, i wasn't looking." ophelia muttered, gingerly moving her shoulder as she turned around to face the blockade, her eyebrows creeping up slightly.
"oh, yes, i'm quite aware." the young man's tone was rather presumptuous for someone who had just experienced a human collision, and the first thing she noted was that his response was...certainly unique. most people would simply respond with a 'oh, alright', and be about their days.
the second thing she noted, was how he was dressed, quite simply, with a thin white shirt, and dark brown pants, perhaps corduroy– it was casual, but in a fashion which gave off the aura of being quite classy, which matched with the haughty response. a rich young lord, no doubt.
