꧁ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ꧂

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 66

She wills her heart to slow down on the marathon sprint it's decided to participate in, which to Romie's luck, he can probably feel, murmuring,

"That's what your first thought is?"

"No, my first thought was if Kreacher scared you out of your wits" He mutters, risking an ugly double chin in favour of idly sucking kiss after kiss after kiss into her knuckles.

Second thought was that he missed the golden opportunity to introduce them. Or atleast witness their very first interaction. Third thought of the morning was this. If she would now accept as true the confession spilled over lavender scented baths and dulcet, tender energy. Or if he'll spend the rest of his days proving himself.

"He said I had eyes like Medusa" Romie utters, falling deeper into his raven nest of curls when he tilts back again, humming,,

"He's always one to analyse"

"He also said I had the voice of a banshee" She mentions, voice losing its sleepy edge and gaining a hardening one.

For a moment, Regulus holds still, both his caress and breath, before releasing in a small, light puff of air, "Well I didn't say it was always complimentary"

He doesn't have to twist, turn around to check if what he earns in return is an eye roll, there's not a single doubt in his mind. Just like his crabby little house elf is always partial to an analysis, his fierce volcano is always partial to an eye roll. Nevertheless, he shifts, gingerly rolling onto his other side. The side that faces said fierce volcano.

Under those appraising eyes a glowing shade of violet, he's quick to disguise the discomfort etching across his face. It's no use, she knows him just as meticulously as he knows her. But the fresh twinges of pain subside from the sight of her, soft from sleep, anyway and there's nothing left to disguise. Except maybe the feeling she's not ready for.

He's too immersed in the rosy warmth lightly dusting her prominent freckled cheeks and nose to notice, she too, is immersed in him. Particularly something that she has no recollection of seeing in the early hours. Regulus starts when he feels nimble fingers enclose around his right wrist, enclosing around what's snuggly tied there.

"Where's this come from? You weren't wearing this yesterday" Romie declares, frown deepening when, ever so languidly, Regulus mumbles,

"Was"

"You were not. I think I'd remember if you were, considering it's mine" She argues, slipping two fingers under the strip of purple silk, feeling the rhythm of his pulse.

Slow and steady. Not fast and erratic like the pulse of someone with something to hide, afraid of being found out. He's not afraid of being found out, if anything, he's bemused. Bemused because why would she, under any circumstances, be under the impression he'd take it off. Hadn't he been obvious?

"Concealment charm" He divulges simply, flickering his eyes between hers and oh.

Oh.

Romie gulps thickly, suddenly feeling quite stupid. Not quite, enormously. Because he was in fact all along was wearing her ribbon, their ribbon. Hadn't taken it off, set fire to it like she initially presumed. A now worn off concealment charm had hidden its arrant existence, hidden not because he was ashamed of the connection to her it holds, because he didn't want anything to happen to it.

Her gaze averts away from his, unable to take the sincerity shining impossibly bright. Pure. It's too pure and it scares her because that might mean he wasn't as out of it as she originally thought. Scares her because she might fall for it again.