꧁ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ꧂

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 45

"How's the team coming along?" Romie asks, feeling her cheeks betray her and pink at the slow wink she earns for the sly mention of the top secret topic.

He may as well have mouthed good girl.

He does.

Evidently not thinking straight, made mellow by the newborn rays of sun, James starts to disclose "Brilliant I think. I've been teaching them this new tactic called Thimbler — hang on a minute!"

Acting ever so innocent, Romie gently hums and turns to him, head inclined a touch. His eyebrows are drawn together in a frown so hard he's bound to suffer a headache if he doesn't quit it soon. He can't. He's thinking. Thinking about his fellow mischief maker's little sister and her strong association with the cunning Captain of the dirty opposition. Who's currently tugging the back board of the book propped on his chest to cover his smile.

"Are you going to feed my secrets back to him?" James accuses, Romie worming herself into the loophole he's created, denying and adding the famous cheer on the end,

"No, no, I wouldn't do that. Go, Go Gryffindor"

Technically, no lies have been told. The said him is right there, present and ears perked, listening. If anyone's feeding secrets, it's James himself, not Romie. He seems to come to a similar conclusion, blowing out a breath and shaking his head, not in indignation, in amusement.

"I'll hand it to you, you're good. Crafty gits, but bloody good"

Romie chuckles, tugging back the book to steal a glimpse at the rare smile hidden beneath. She reaches down, tracing the dinting lines a great deal more prominent around the mouth of his older brother. Sirius laughs, he smiles, Regulus hardly does. Or atleast he didn't before. These happy folds are starting to make his face a home, not a place to briefly visit. It's a nice development. He deserves this development. More than anyone.

James has to stifle his sappy smile when Regulus guides the hand back to his sacred hair, looking like he might melt underneath her touch. He reckons he might've felt a few other things in the recent past too, zeroing in on the handful of marks the particular hue claimed by Romie, on his otherwise pale throat. And the all too familiar ribbon laced through the two front belt loops of his trousers, the bow sitting just above his crotch.

He makes a mental note to ask Lily to check Romie knows the contraceptive charm off the back of her hand. James would ask himself but fathering children is a hope for the future he'd like to keep a strong possibility. His eyes drift to where the longstanding main character of his dreams is standing by the shore of the Black Lake, reciting the possible dangers and risks of wild swimming to a bunch of third years, who clearly don't give a rat's arse.

Fun. They just want to have fun, enjoy themselves in the water. Lucky for them, fun is James' middle name. Romie's lips twitch when the spot next to her becomes vacant, crimson high top converse approaching the water. Approaching Lily's small lecture group. Regulus props himself up on an elbow, watching in anticipation.

Hearing the speech exchange is impossible from the distance, and perhaps unnecessary. Because suddenly, there's awed grins growing on the faces of the third years, growing impossibly wider when the Head Boy lunges forward, flings the Head Girl over his shoulder and charges full speed ahead at the Lake. Shrieks and screams and phrases that don't set good examples for the third years fly from Lily's lips, muting the second her head plunges beneath the surface.

"She's going to hex him backwards" Romie mutters aloud, frowning at the contradicting head shake from Regulus, having other distinct opinions on the matter.

"No she's not"

His cranes his head around to catch a good look of her in the positively endearing act of stubbornness, not at all surprised that's how he finds her. Adamant she's right, he's wrong. She's ahead, he's behind. Romie must've forgotten he has successfully bested her before, multiple times. It's what makes them constantly stimulated, far from boredom.