- 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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꧁✧✧✧꧂
𝕽omie stifles a great, big yawn, speaking to no one in particular.
"Alright. Any questions?"
She's met with a plethora of murmured no's and shaking heads, pleasing both her and Regulus. Apparently arranging specific patrol spots and time slots that work around every extra curricular under the sun and consider individual personal affairs was no piece of cake. Atleast they didn't have any issues asserting authority, the majority too stunned to speak up or too timid. Good.
From his window seat alongside Romie, Regulus dismisses coolly, "You're all free to go. Stay in here or find your friends"
Neither of them care, that much is crystal clear. Because the fifth, sixth and seventh year house prefect pairs couldn't disperse quick enough, the lion's share filing out of the carriage altogether and the remaining few settling a fair distance away. Out of earshot.
Exhausted, Romie slumps back into the long velvet seat a bottle green, eyelids cheering when she finally concedes to the close. Alas, a short lived thing, the stare pinned to the side of her face responsible for the tall stand of baby hairs on the nape of her neck too fervent to ignore any longer. Lazily, in that direction, she rolls her head, blinking open her eyes.
The involuntary breath he instantly exhales is both soft and heavy all at once, a simple portrayal that goes for his eyes too. Funnily, that joins the short lived bracket, growing steely and hard. Romie nearly throws up her defences, the strongest to surround her heart, but then she hears it. The awkward shuffling of feet that tells her they're not as alone as originally believed.
"Hey, Romie"
Regulus is forced to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent a smile when a not so quiet sigh sounds from the Gryffindor, patently disinterested in whatever Hufflepuff's infamous sweetheart has to say. A funny thing, interest, how in some instances, depending on who's around, it can multiply or diminish.
Seemingly Romeo isn't discouraged, most likely too busy working up the nerve to occupy the spot opposite the duo to notice their mien. Fire and frost. Ice. Cutting and bitter when Regulus isn't acknowledged at all, treated as though non-existent. And the beguiling girl in such close vicinity thighs are squashed, unduly existent.
"I was wondering if the partner pairings will rotate?" He questions, itching Romie's eyes to do a roll greater and bigger than the yawn.
Had she not just provided the opportunity to inquire about anything prefect. This falls directly under that umbrella. Needless to say, someone didn't inherit the famous two in one, brains and beauty. Romie opens her mouth to answer or quite frankly point that out, but it's not her voice heard. She's been beaten to it.
"Yours might. Ours won't"
The disappointment spreading on Romeo's face couldn't be a further contrast to the delight Romie has to angle her head to hide. He hadn't just said it. He emphasised it, and brutally. Romeo could go through as many prefect partners as he likes, all of them if he likes, but he won't score Romie. She's off limits, untouchable to anyone that's not Regulus Black. End of story.
