ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7

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"𝕾o, let me get this straight—"

Hestia starts, pausing to playfully glare at the snort of laughter that leaves Romie at her ironic choice of wording,

"— You are now dating, Black. Regulus Black"

She finishes slowly, uncertain whether that's a sentence she never thought she'd say, or whether it was only a matter of time before the prospect made itself known to the world. Romie nods, hurriedly stepping out of the way of the tiny first years keenly exploring the castle in a magical world of their own, confirming,

"Yes. Well, sort of. It's not a real relationship"

A play, a performance, a genius idea that she's still clapping herself on the back for. Especially for being able to get Mr Brooding Black to agree and be her confederate. Originally she had expected it to be more challenging, that it would take her weeks to have him give in and listen to her proposal. Or maybe something he would want in return, something to gain out of it like a true, cunning Slytherin — more than having Romie Lupin on his arm, of course. Because that should be a shiny prize in itself.

Hestia pauses, quickly becoming a victim of ambivalence. On one hand, she had to applaud Romie, it was a brilliant scheme to think of all on her own — and get Regulus Black to agree to it. Undoubtedly. On the other hand, there's a possibility something could go terribly wrong, and Romie could end up hurt, the very last thing she'll ever want. Nobody wants to see their best friend hurting, it's nearly as bad as feeling your own crippling heartache.

Noticing her hesitance towards it all, Romie smiles reassuringly, informing, "Don't worry, we've agreed on some rules, formally signed on it"

Hestia's released breath is one of relief, that there have been some boundaries put in place to keep hearts safe, whole and happily beating on. Although, Romie is quite the rule-breaker, it's in the Lupin blood, mischief and roguery, and the frustratingly wonderful ability to worm their way out of punishments most of the time. It's an advantage to love and hate at the same time.

"Rules?" She sighs, and Romie grins, because she knows. She knows she's got her on her side, the seal of approval of the best friend that means half of the world.

"Rules. A big five of them" She confirms, holding up a hand and wiggling her five fingers.

"Six"

The simple correction comes from behind Romie, a well-spoken and cold yet oh-so silky voice that belongs only to one person on the planet. She spins around to the belonging individual, finding raven curls and icy-grey eyes. Regulus Black was staring at her, hands clasped formally behind his back, a sure display of his superiority and authority. It's how Dumbledore stands, it's how the Muggle Queen stands, of course it's how Mr Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Regulus Black, stands.

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