꧁ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ꧂

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 50

Rosmerta soon returns, much to Romie's exasperation, dodging her grabby hands and slithering the two foamy drinks into each of his. A silent agreement between the pair she had no say in. Huffing, Romie smacks the galleon total onto the counter and ducks under his arm to do what he was supposed to do in the first place.

After mumbling a quick thank you, Regulus follows, shaking his head when she walks straight past empty table after empty table, stringing out the journey as long as possible. Because he wouldn't allow her to carry their drinks. They reach the rear of the popular pub, table opportunity running out, ending Romie's little vengeance act. A rickety round table and two windsor chairs is the pick, the discomfort plain as day in her face when she slumps down rather forcefully.

"If you wanted to go back to our booth I promise I won't say a word"

Regulus offers, remaining standing on the off chance she decides today is the day she retires being the most insufferably stubborn girl he knows. There isn't a single ounce of surprise in his being when it quite quickly becomes apparent that today is not today, Romie too stuck in her ways.

"What, can your fancy pureblood arse not handle a fucking chair?"

He sucks in a harsh breath, replying, "I'm afraid not, if I accept this what will be next? Cotton sheets instead of dragon silk? Think of my hair. Come on"

Sighing deeply, Romie stands, striding past him and towards the secluded yet visible booth that's becoming their spot. Regulus stifles his smile, thinking that admitting defeat might not be the worst thing in the world when he glimpses the happy gleam in her eyes, too pure to be concealed. He plants down the butterbeer pints and settles into the space she leaves open on her right, ears perking up to hear the almost inaudible murmur,

"Just because it would be a true shame for your hair"

"Of course, Heffalump" He nods, carrying on enjoying the minty sweet slowly shrinking down in his mouth.

Pretending not to, with fascination, watch his cheeks hollow out impossibly further, Romie surveys the room, stopping when she lands on a rather cute scene. Not too far away, sitting across from one another, hand in hand, James and Lily, so deep into each other's eyes that the quaint village of Hogsmeade could go up in flames and neither would notice. It's a feeling all too familiar, the rest of the world fading away, taking her back to the devastatingly handsome boy she's here with.

Hogwarts' new, sickeningly sweet couple has caught his eye too, but not for too long. Because it's only fair, only right to, every other moment, appreciate the loveliness that has him pathetically soppy. He stills upon finding her stare already on him, managing to break out of the stone statue she's made out of him to arch an eyebrow. She looks like she wants to ask him something. Something she's wanted to ask for a while.

"Where did you go?"

It doesn't take him long to put two and two together. The night of the ball. She's asking where he went in the blink of the eye it took to glance at the older group whistling and cheering at the bottom of the staircase. His throat makes an audible click when he swallows, voice thick with something that kicks up her heart rate.

"I needed an outside breather"

Curiosity and confusion must etch across her face, because Regulus' lips are gently parting again, attempting to answer the question Romie couldn't bring herself to ask, afraid of deepening the fall she fears she's undergoing. Why.

"You were just so —— You are so ——"

He breaks off into a shaky sigh, eyes fluttering closed as he slightly shakes his head. He can't. He can't summarise in words what she is, he's trying, he's trying to invent a a flattery remark that does her justice but it's proving difficult. Nothing, no one amounts to her. She's a delicacy undefinable, above and beyond words.