- 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's never seen Hogwarts greener.
Perhaps it derives from being a proud lion, associating the school of magic with deep reds and rich golds, that if she were to ask Hestia and Pandora, butterscotch yellows and midnight blues that whisper a sense of home too entrenched in their hearts to be replaced, would spring to mind. Going off that theory, green might be the answer of Barty and Evan's too. But not this green.
This was a specific shade of green, brighter than the dark pine forests and royal emerald jewels of Slytherin house. A green you can almost taste on your tongue, like the earthy aroma of freshly mown grass, unabating and quite the expert in sticking in the back of your throat for atleast twenty four hours after the cut. A green you can almost touch, soft, smooth under your fingertips. Velvety.
Romie had never seen Hogwarts greener, and it wasn't because of the communal school spirit for the last Quidditch match of the season.
"She always wanted to see Hogwarts"
On her either side, Hestia and Pandora glance to their friend, tightening the loops of their arms that bind them together. Romie's distrait, staring at the little colourful flowers sprouting from the green grass they're doing remarkably well to avoid squashing, but the cordial action reinforcing support is noticed, the tiny tugs at the corner of her lips proof.
They're with her, step by step, whether those steps are long and slow or short and fast and there's an odd break to appease the twitches in her fingertips by touching the green. The bright, velvety green. Listening. They're listening to whatever Romie's lost mind and grieving heart wills her mouth to say, with or without full context. That's what best friends do. They're just glad the idea of emotional avoidance hasn't crossed her mind.
Romie hasn't anything to avoid, anything to deny, not anymore. The relief is only short term and never actually reduces the fear of facing head on what's uncomfortable, scary, just prolongs it to an internal suffer. She's done with hiding, done with internal wars that bring out the worst in her. She couldn't think of anything worse than being the worst version of herself while mourning the person who brought her into this world. That would be wrong, a discredit to her mum.
"Just once. To see what all the fuss is about for herself" She murmurs, scrunching her nose for a second.
Nearly Headless Nick's favourite friendly greeting and the sombre presence of the Bloody Baron would have made her piss her pants, no doubt. Though the firm belief of her snorting pumpkin juice out of her nose at the weird high knee jogging style of Filch would make up for it, the marvelling over a certain set of Mcgonagall's teaching robes too. She'd have left no portrait unspoken to and never skipped the second floor girls bathroom in case the permanent resident was moping and moaning again.
Hope Lupin would've made Hogwarts a better place. If she had gotten to see it.
"She did see. In her dreams and in you" Pandora declares, voice full of a strong intuition that doesn't spook or throw Romie. Quite the opposite actually.
