╰┈➤ regulus black x oc
❝ you're bleeding. ❞
❝ why thank you for pointing out the obvious, potter. ❞
☄. *. ⋆ in which ophelia potter's life is struck by a wizarding war, the death of her parents, and the bombshell that is her death eater ex, regulus...
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"i think the stubble makes me look manly." regulus mused, his tone far more icy than it had been earlier upon the notion that she was insulting his appearance– well, to be fair, the dainty sprinkling of stubble that graced his chin and upper lip was clearly causing her major offense.
"you're not getting a blade anywhere near me. i will not hesitate to curse you."
regulus was aware that residing with an auror, and ex lover, and generally an uncanny figure such as ophelia potter had been a gamble– not because he thought she would hand him in. right from the moment he had turned up at her doorstep, bloodied, exhausted, he had been struck with a state of humiliating yearning.
it was an unhealthy pining of sorts, what he had been suppressing. it was like holding his breath, ever since she had left him. despite what she may have said to deny it, in his eyes, she had left him. it was an imperfect lens, perhaps, one warped by emotion, but she was the first to step out the door, not him.
it was rather unfortunate that seeing her again erased all that resentment and replaced it with an unhealthy recharge. making up for lost time. dependant impulses. he was a shell of what he wanted to, and was expected to be.
but the way ophelia would look at him, like he had just offended the entire lineage of her dead owl, always put that issue to the bottom of his to do list.
she had sat him down in the bathroom on a stool after dinner (begrudgingly, he had to admit it had been exquisite) to inspect the state of his appearance. as she had observed earlier, he was unkempt, and evidently she was not sure how to feel about it.
"you look like you have been kept in the woods, and considering it's you, that's really saying something." she noted dryly as she cupped his face in her palm, her eyebrows creeping upwards in slight bemusement.
god, this woman.
regulus tensed at the physical contact against his will; in a way, he had been, and she was correct. that did not mean he was not to make the most feeble of defenses, of course. "it is a good feature." he countered, deadpan. "... it makes men and women alike salivate."
in that respect, he did not entirely disagree with her assessment that he was looking unkempt. he had gone days without bothering to spend more than half an hour on his appearance; weeks even– which was a major stray from tradition. if he did not look like a polished roman statuette, he was not the scion of house black. the stubble was perhaps the most pressing issue, but that was another story.
"you're going to shave." she stated, her curt tone leaving no room for debate as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, moving his hand off where he had been gripping her sweater like a vice. that bitch.
