- 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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꧁✧✧✧꧂
𝕿he trinket Evan's holding goes flying out of his hands when the tapestry swings open.
Barty's there to catch it before a disastrous smash on the ground, but the impressive move is overshadowed by the abrupt arrival of the Head Girl and Boy and, needless to say, the lover's quarrel brewing with such intense conviction in the air surrounding them, they fail to notice company.
Company that's, from the get-go, ditching the polite, civilised thing to do by leaving them to deal with their own business in private, alternatively, diving at the same time onto the small couch to watch off the framed back, eyes peeled and ears pricked up ever so keenly.
No one could blame them, horrendous tooth aches and staunch hip joining is the way Romie and Regulus have been doing things recently and while that's lovely and all very sweet, their major clashes of indestructible fire and piercing ice that catapult them right back in time to previous rivalry years are, unmatched. And unmatched they are, for a reason.
Romie practically mirrors their action with a dive of her own, feeling not a shred of care about the harsh thudding of hitting the floor, as long as he's no longer carrying her like some baby in need of handling or motive management. She's off his back. In the literal sense.
Regulus drops his suddenly empty arms and wheels around on the spot, exhaling in great exasperation at the sight of her in a heap of spindly limbs on the floor.
"What have you done that for? I was about to let you down. Gently"
Romie's fast to smack away the strong, well-practised hands sticking out to help her to her feet, reinforcing her capability to do such herself. Since he appears to have forgotten she possesses that rightful quality of independence. She dusts off her knees, throughout her rise to her height's full potential, staring fiercely at him up through her tense eyebrows and biting back,
"There shouldn't have been any need for letting down. Gently. You shouldn't have carried me out!"
"Ah. But I did" Regulus replies with refreshed relish, teeth baring into a smile that taunts and flaunts his triumph.
It's the kind of smile that makes Romie want to add to the growing tally of smacks today and kiss all at once. Kiss rough and brutal and merciless with punishing teeth until his lips are too puffy, too bruised to pull into a smile for the next week. Maybe two. Not ever. She loves his ever-deepening smile and laugh lines too much for a permanent basis. She refrains. She can't talk, can't tell him what a complete and utter arsehole he is if her mouth is busy attacking his. If he's busy attacking hers back. Oh, he'd love that. Too bad.
"You had no right to! What happened to being right behind me, huh? What happened to having my back?!" She exclaims furiously, scoffing and swerving her head to look anywhere else but the magnetising grey of his eyes.
