- 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 hisses, seriously fearing for the health of her poor arm.
"Slow down, you flaming arseholes!"
The pesky gang of pranksters she curses herself for loving so deeply merely exchange grins, continuing to drag her along through the corridors like a sodding rag doll. She had barely crossed the threshold out of the door to her last class before four bodies obviously up to no good were whizzing past her, and taking her along with them. She didn't know precisely what she was being forced to play a part in, only that it's along the lines of a prank considering the route they're flying down is the route to a certain classroom.
Finally, much to Romie's lungs relief, they come to a stop around the corner from what she assumes their special destination, still grinning like maniacs. Whilst they dig through pockets, toss around objects and whisper giddy back and forth, Romie leans against the stone wall, collecting herself together. For the very first time, she's secretly glad for the brutal murder of her nun skirt, knowing there's no possibility it would have made things easier for whatever she's about to be involved in.
She quirks a brow when Remus glances in her direction, dodging the hand that targets her hair for a ruffle. He sighs, uttering,
"Oh come on, don't be like that, this will be fun"
"It's interesting where you draw the line of what is and isn't fun and if I'm authorised to experience it" Romie scoffs before she can help herself, standing her ground.
It makes absolutely no sense to her, how pranks, trouble and detentions can be so harmless and fun in his mind, yet spending wholesome time with someone she fancies, she admires, someone that actually makes her feel special and good about herself is off limits. Strictly forbidden. Doesn't add up. Remus doesn't have the opportunity to reply, for Romie's already being lead away, a friendly arm slung across her shoulders.
"He's right. You'll get a good kick out of this, and you, my dearest Roman Invasion, should be honoured to not only watch, but assist The Marauders in action"
Romie's forced to bite her lip in order to stifle her laughter. Honoured. She should be honoured to assist the idiots who think it's cool to refer to themselves as The Marauders. It's a bloody good job the people of Hogwarts worship the ground they strut on, because otherwise they'd be teased, tormented and picked on relentlessly.
Romie doesn't know about herself, but Regulus would definitely get a good kick out of this if he heard. She can practically picture his face, the tent like furrow of his eyebrows like it's physically painful to comprehend the same blood that courses through his veins, courses through Sirius' too. The roll of his eyes, the shake of his head, the tug at his mouth he instantly tries to hide, opposed to anyone realising the inexorable fondness he holds for the idiot he searches the night sky for.
