꧁ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ꧂

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11

He's certainly knows where he's standing.

Hestia shot him a timid smile, apology laced in the corners, for she knows all too well how Romie is. Pandora was far too engrossed in her cat's cradle, luring Barty in to perceive his way of being. Truths and lies. Evan, on the other hand, chose to provoke the provoked further, grinning at Regulus, his arm slinging across the back of Romie's chair,

"Looks like you'll have to pull up another chair, over there on the end, Reg"

Romie ignores him, ignores the arm that her inner self is itching to knock off to keep to himself, boring her eyes into her work. She didn't like just anyone touching her, it had gotten better over time, the agonising response to cower away and curl up in a ball fading into something more controlled, a few deep breaths and a minor shuffle away if that didn't help. Four year old Romie, beyond petrified of being handled would be proud of how far she's come.

The arm drops, returning back into his own space where it should be, but Romie doesn't realise, not at first. Because something else has taken it's place, something that makes the table move away with an awful screech, making her nose crinkle. Romie barely has the chance to think, to breathe, only a glimpse of the mahogany table suddenly free of her belongings before it's gone, no longer in sight. Pandora and Hestia are no longer in sight.

It wasn't the table moving, it was her. She was being pulled back, creating a roomy pathway for what's replaced her belongings.   Romie, still refusing to lock eyes, crosses her arms over her chest, voice resolute and insistent when she says,

"This is incredibly rude. I can't see my friends"

Her head turns, not by her own doing, by Regulus'. His curled knuckle tilts her chin, up and up, and up, levelling with him, until there's no other option but for Romie to finally meet his gaze. There's a darkness to it, a charcoal ring around the striking grey that tells Romie her firm perseverance has thoroughly pissed him off.

"It's your own doing. You are, without a doubt, the most insufferably stubborn girl I know" Regulus declares, unsure what to feel when Romie's violet gleams furiously and she fumes, "You know other girls?"

Bouncy vanilla curls, perfect cherry lips crosses her mind, Anna Pucey and her relentless seeking of Regulus' attention. And she's not the only one, Romie couldn't count the number of times she's passed a band of giggling girls gushing over Regulus Black's dreamy hair and alluring persona they would die for a taste of. The muscles of her stomach twist and she tries to look away. She couldn't. Regulus wouldn't let her.

"Yes, Lupin, i'm acquainted with the female population. But don't worry, you're the one that makes me want to rip my hair out on a daily basis" He mutters, jaw ticking.

It ticks progressively more, when Barty decides to butt in to the conversation, opining, "Oh, don't do that. You'd make a hideous bald"

"I'd knit you a hat" Hestia offers kindly, perking up greatly at Evan's noise of interest, "Oh, knitted hats are on offer? I'll take one, Pufflehuff"

"She makes lovely mittens, you should ask for those too" Pandora suggests airily, her compliment flustering Hestia to rosy pink cheeks.

Regulus, who'd at some point peered over his shoulder as the conversation blossomed to a whole group discussion about Hestia's hobby, returned back to the Gryffindor, slightly surprised to find her eyes had remained on him. He'd blocked her vision of anyone else, that's why, kept hold of her chin, in place. Disinclined to more intrusions, he lowers his hand, reaches down before he can stop himself, grabbing at the wooden base between her thighs, pulling her chair closer. Pulling her closer.