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"𝕾o, let me get this straight—"
Hestia starts, pausing to playfully glare at the snort of laughter that leaves Romie at her ironic choice of wording,
"— You are now dating, Black. Regulus Black"
She finishes slowly, uncertain whether that's a sentence she never thought she'd say, or whether it was only a matter of time before the prospect made itself known to the world. Romie nods, hurriedly stepping out of the way of the tiny first years keenly exploring the castle in a magical world of their own, confirming,
"Yes. Well, sort of. It's not a real relationship"
A play, a performance, a genius idea that she's still clapping herself on the back for. Especially for being able to get Mr Brooding Black to agree and be her confederate. Originally she had expected it to be more challenging, that it would take her weeks to have him give in and listen to her proposal. Or maybe something he would want in return, something to gain out of it like a true, cunning Slytherin — more than having Romie Lupin on his arm, of course. Because that should be a shiny prize in itself.
Hestia pauses, quickly becoming a victim of ambivalence. On one hand, she had to applaud Romie, it was a brilliant scheme to think of all on her own — and get Regulus Black to agree to it. Undoubtedly. On the other hand, there's a possibility something could go terribly wrong, and Romie could end up hurt, the very last thing she'll ever want. Nobody wants to see their best friend hurting, it's nearly as bad as feeling your own crippling heartache.
Noticing her hesitance towards it all, Romie smiles reassuringly, informing, "Don't worry, we've agreed on some rules, formally signed on it"
Hestia's released breath is one of relief, that there have been some boundaries put in place to keep hearts safe, whole and happily beating on. Although, Romie is quite the rule-breaker, it's in the Lupin blood, mischief and roguery, and the frustratingly wonderful ability to worm their way out of punishments most of the time. It's an advantage to love and hate at the same time.
"Rules?" She sighs, and Romie grins, because she knows. She knows she's got her on her side, the seal of approval of the best friend that means half of the world.
"Rules. A big five of them" She confirms, holding up a hand and wiggling her five fingers.
"Six"
The simple correction comes from behind Romie, a well-spoken and cold yet oh-so silky voice that belongs only to one person on the planet. She spins around to the belonging individual, finding raven curls and icy-grey eyes. Regulus Black was staring at her, hands clasped formally behind his back, a sure display of his superiority and authority. It's how Dumbledore stands, it's how the Muggle Queen stands, of course it's how Mr Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Regulus Black, stands.
It takes her a minute or two to truly comprehend what he said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "No, there's five"
"Six" Regulus corrects again, tone sounding so bored with her already that she's tempted to shove at his chest or smack it right out of him.
Before she could make a move, she's being distracted, one that fizzes away those ideas into a dissolved nothingness like they had never been there to begin with. Because, at their either side, Regulus' ring adorned hands have made an appearance, and are bunching up the extended material of her grey school skirt just below her hips, a motion to accentuate his next declaration,
"Rule number six, we fix this nun skirt. If you're going to be devoted to someone, it'll be me, not some muggle God"
Romie attempts to wiggle away from him and his grabbing hands, protesting, "You can't just make up rules on the spot!"
A smirk twists at the corner of his mouth, looking so incredibly smug and lofty that all those nice thoughts to hit him came rushing back, and in full force, especially when he offers a half shrugs and states, "I just did"
What is she going to do about it, is a silent addition onto the end that has her acting immediately, batting at his hands, arms and chests. Unfortunately for Romie, fortunately for Hestia — entertainment wise — Regulus persists on, resolute on sorting out this nonsense that's she's dragged out for far too long. She made her point, she won against him in the duel in it, now she can let it go and they can move on in properly fitted clothes.
"Piss off, Black! The younger girls look up to me, they've all had their skirts charmed longer, what message would I send shortening it back up?" Romie huffs exasperatedly.
It was the truth. Ever since Romie's stubborn debut of this floor-length skirt, the impressionable young girls of Hogwarts had decided they wanted to jump in on the accidental trend, and charm their already knee-length skirts to be the same. Bless their souls, they're all drowning in their uniforms. Romie hadn't known she had such an impact, but it was a fairly nice revelation.
Obviously Regulus draws to the polar opposite conclusion, pausing briefly to fix her with an odd look, and muttering, "I'm not sure that's as much as a compliment as you think it is"
And there it was. Roaring fires of violet tearing up into flames, hot and flaring and vigorously growing. He was being brutally attacked by a Romie Lupin glare. He stares back at her, briefly wondering whether she can see the reflection of her glow in his stormy clouds. If it's tinting them from the intensity. He follows them when they flicker downwards, to where her tanned, lithe hands are encasing his pale wrists, stuck in motion. Like the pause button has been pressed.
Then, a couple of seconds later, they're being resumed, back to wrestling, back to quarrelling, back to being Regulus Black and Romie Lupin. Passer-by's nosy and watch with amusement at them grappling at one another like a pair of riled up kittens. At the side, Hestia smiles blindingly and waves to each of them, occasionally reminding to move on so a busy queue doesn't form in the middle of hallway.
Strong surges of victory and triumph flood Romie's veins when she manages to somehow break free from his captive hold and flee, altered skirt swishing against her ankles. A grin breaks out across her face at the irritable grunt that floats into her ears, speeding up quicker at the sound of frustrated footsteps following briskly on behind.
She turns a corner, and sneaks a glance around the edge of the wall, a-ha-ing at the realisation that he's lost her. No sign of Regulus Black and his persistence to fix her perfectly fine skirt in sight. An empty corridor. That's all she sees. In front of her. That's all she sees in front of her. Unbeknownst to her, behind, is a completely different story.
Something a little different than an a-ha flies from her lips at the way she's abruptly being yanked around and pinned up against the cold stone wall. It's not as cold as what's restraining both of Romie's hands above her head, restricting her from fighting back this time. His hand, just one, fixing the both of hers, she realises, when she spots his other reaching for his wand tucked safely in the back pocket of his trousers.
She wriggles against him, huffing and puffing, but it only makes him push harder and trap her between his knees, voice deep and gruff as he orders,
"Stay fucking still"
Much to Regulus' surprise, she does almost immediately, perhaps realising she'd only be wasting her energy fighting him. Perhaps realising that in this round, she's lost and he's scored a point. He's got her, there's no way out for her. That doesn't mean she won't glare, though, glaring as hard as one can, ensuring that he knows she's not happy in the slightest. Not at his Slytherin trickery, not at his ability to pin her against the wall, not at his spell that miraculously vanishes the extended length of her skirt, cutting it to her mid thigh where it should have been all along.
Romie - 2 Regulus - 2
He glances down, admiring his work, inwardly applauding himself. Inwardly hitting himself. Maybe it would've been a better idea, now that he's in that place, and thinks about it, to have left the skirt as it was. Showing nothing at all, all covered up. Because Romie Lupin has legs. Willowy legs, outrageously sun-kissed legs, legs that are shimmering gold in the daylight shining through the window opposite. Fuck.
"I did not give you permission to do that"
Her biting tones snap him back to the present, snap his eyes back up to hers, smirking at the lingering fury, still vivid purple. Always purple,
"I didn't ask for it"
Romie's mouth opens to retort, however hurriedly closing at what she catches down the hall out of the corner of her eye. Fuzzy fur, the grey colour of slate, and whiskers, light and long and ticklish, followed by a tail that looks hilariously like a white worm, just scurrying around in the corner, into view. Time for phase one — to be ratted out.
In one swift movement, she pushes against Regulus' pinning hand, and shoots him a look that he quickly deciphered smartly and as one that tells him to follow her lead. For whatever reason, he does, despite the puzzling questions that spring to mind about the emptiness that surrounds them. She knows something he doesn't, and he's going to have to trust her on this one.
They walk side by side, Regulus' hands returning to behind his back, listening intently as Romie sighs,
"It's never ending! I thought OWLs were bad, this is something else entirely. Three separate assignments I have due for tomorrow, and they were set today. It's complete unreasonable"
Regulus bites back the smirk that desperately wants present itself, and the teasing comment about her finding OWLs hard, instead humming in agreement, then offering after a thoughtful moment of reflection,
"How about we work on DADA together? Twice as fast, then. I doubt Lightfoot would notice, she's not the most observant of people"
Romie doesn't bother to stifle her snort, eyes rolling at the mention of the incompetent professor. They could all skip class for a whole week and she wouldn't give two fucks. She'd probably assign them all Outstandings for it too, working in her favour. She comes to a fleeting stop, somehow managing to warm up her cheeks to a pretty pink whilst still maintaining that confidence that she embodies,
"Early dinner, meet in the library at seven?"
Regulus nods, ruffling a hand through his curls, "Works for me"
"Great" Romie murmurs, smiling far warmer than this pompous pain-in-the-arse deserves.
Regulus smiles back, a faint, barely-anything smile that in itself is the same level of effort as someone else beaming blindingly. His stature relaxes, sounding far too pathetically gentle for his liking — especially for this elfin bitch — as he echoes quietly,
"Great"
Romie discreetly peers over her shoulder, mentally rubbing her hands together at the sight of the rat turning and scurrying back in the direction of where it came from in a sense of urgency. Phase one — complete.
Her facade fades away, and she puts an arm's length of distance between her and Regulus, ensuring that it's crystal clear to him, "We are absolutely not meeting in the library to work together at seven"
Regulus lets out a harsh puff of air, returning to the sour bitterness he had swallowed down for that encounter, already making haste to go in the very opposite direction that she is when they reach the end of the corridor,
"Thank fucking Merlin"
And they depart ways, Regulus going left and Romie going right, needing atleast several hours of separation before they're to be together again.
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So looking forward to writing these two more!! <33