- 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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꧁✧✧✧꧂
"𝖂e need a duplicate, a fake"
Romie nearly laughs at the word, finding it a little funny. Ironic. Just under two years ago, Operation Lupin-Black was the be-all and end-all, pushing her directly into the arms of the boy no amount of wolfishly protective threats and snarling looks could chase off. Tucked in a quiet booth at the rear of the Three Broomsticks tavern, outnumbered to an unhealthily degree by sweet butterbeers, a rule listed contract was mutually agreed on and signed, sealing the deal.
Over mistletoe, over veritaserum, amortentia and locking the daft, ball-less prats in a room together, this would work. Enticing Regulus Black with a proposition impossible for such an inquisitive soul to turn down, would work. Curiosity killed the cat. But satisfaction brought it back. Worthwhile. The aggravation of their extremely intrusive brothers, the lowering of toughened guards, the delicate involvement was worthwhile.
The fake dating Romie struggles to recall feeling forced or false or fake. It was taking small steps, sometimes leaps out of comfort zones and learning by heart something new, something different, and growing. It wasn't their beginning, wasn't their middle, fake. But there's a risk it could be their end. A risk she's willing to take, a risk she thinks more of as another bold exploit, another journey of learning something new, something different and remembering what she has learned in her heart. After all, what's life without a little risk.
She stares straight forward, locating the heavenly halo of raven curls and mercurial eyes in the centre of stacks of history books they've yet to arrange on the shelves how they found them. It's not often they choose to sit across from each other, preferring the intimacy, the closeness, the strength of side by side. They had sat across from each other that day. Propped elbows and leans made up for it.
"We can transfigure something. Preferably of the same variety" Romie suggests, more than capable of such advanced wandwork. She had an outstanding with her name on it.
In agreement, Regulus begins to survey their quaint common room, assessing the quality of the meaningful trinkets and novelties that have gradually appeared over time. Trinkets and novelties that had come out of their own pocket with the intention of making the place their own during their stay. They had. This was their first place together, and he can't imagine not leaving it for the following year's elected head prefects and so on, the way they made it. This was their mark, their history. Their mystery.
Stumped, his eyes return to their place of belonging, confident she has some sort of idea. She does and the ache inside his chest grows watching her, emotions conflicted yet mind made up, silently unclasp the golden watch from her wrist, laying it flat on the table's surface in front of her. Keeping it, keeping this, this perfectly special token of her growth, their growth, on her person was the only risk she wouldn't take. Because it wouldn't be fair.
