- 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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Warning: Mature Chapter
𝕳is eyes close, memorising the feeling, the way she's smooshing her real, genuine and true smile against his tear-stained cheek.
Nothing will ever outshine this moment with her, their promises, their vows.
He's wrong.
Nothing will ever outshine the brightness of her eyes when she unravels the strip of silk fluttering on his pulse now going through the roof and employs her magnificent magic to sever it into two.
Regulus mentally hits himself for not coming up with the idea first, but then again, when it comes down to it, that's her. All genius ideas and revolutionary thinking. And it's a damn privilege to witness, be involved in some way or another. He's involved in more ways than one, on the verge of combusting when his left hand is tenderly taken, long, slick fingers willingly fanning out for the binding around the one that has the vein running directly to his heart.
Romie leans in, running her nose along the length of his jaw, murmuring, "Looks like it has a permanent place now. Sorry about that"
She doesn't sound sorry in the slightest, and thank Merlin that's the case. If she did, Regulus might've had to request a brief interlude during this heartfelt, pivotal time to knock some sense into her, because wrists and ankles, blank canvas throats and belt loops just above crotches can't compare, aren't even in the same league as this new placement. This permanent placement.
Shaking his head slightly, he swipes the other half flopped on her thigh, scoffing in disbelief when the Heffalump goes to hide her left hand in between the squash of their legs. He can't be miffed though, not when the Cheshire Cat grin teasing her lips and the roguish sparkle in her eye soften into something that feels like his as his great finesse foils her plan and he's cradling her hand like it's something inviolable.
Just as she had, on her ring finger, he ties the knot, gently rubbing his thumb over the smooth thread. It's not the dazzling ring James unknowingly caught him checking out and alerted Sirius at Christmas nor a showpiece from the ancestral treasure trove locked inside the Black family Gringotts vault previously broken into by Kreacher, the crabby little accomplice.
It's better, it's more.
It's their purple ribbon, once a dear hair accessory stolen to fit in the strict dress code, developed to be a token of good luck, a portrayal of high favour, now a symbol of their undying love, their eternal devotion.
Their marriage.
"I have to say, Mr Black, you have excellent taste" Romie declares with faux solemnity, covering up the internal war taking place to not gush over him like Mia would an infant grandchild when her hand's lifted to the bow of his head.
