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𝕰ver since the late night kitchen rendezvous, things had been fairly smooth sailing.
A sort of toleration, civil existence, middle ground between hot fire and cool ice had been found between the Gryffindor and Slytherin, diminishing down their constant snarky spats to more occasional occasional comments that couldn't be helped, really. They could be in the same room without there being the great possibility of the space going in up flames. They could share a carriage to Hogsmeade village with their friends without the risk of the whole thing flipping over.
"Oops. Looks like there's only one space left, you'll have to share" Evan announces, sporting a broad grin that Romie's hand itches to smack off.
Pausing on the small stepstool, she studies the carriage, her eyes narrowing on the two Slytherin boys happily making themselves at home, extending out their big, long limbs, leaving no room on their side of the bench. She sighs, peering over her shoulder to the boy on the snow dusted ground behind, his gaze whipping up to meet hers from what she can only assume her arse. He half shrugs, quickly following her up when she reluctantly consents, not keen on waiting around for another by herself.
She huffs, plonking herself down sideways on Regulus' lap, "Fucking men and their manspreading"
"It's all necessary, I'm afraid. Overheating down there is terrible" Evan excuses, raising not just Romie's eyebrows, but Pandora and Hestia's too.
"Blimey, overheating down there. And I thought shedding the walls of the womb and bleeding for what equates to ten nonstop years was bad. You lads have it rough"
Whether they gaged the tone of sympathy was in mock of them, they didn't let on, eliciting a scoff from Romie when they bow their heads in a pained sorrowfulness. She re-adjusts herself to ignore them, diving deep into a conversation with Hestia and Pandora about the strange dream the latter had the night before. It's only when she spies them sneakily whispering back and forth out of the corner of her eye that she acknowledges their presence again. And she's not the only one that clocked on either.
"Do you think we should tell them? I think we should tell them"
"Tell us what?"
Romie jumps slightly, having not realised how truly little the proximity between her and Regulus was. Little enough that she can practically feel the steady vibrations of his deep voice inside her own chest. Her palm presses against her sternum, stopping the thrums from continuing any longer so that she can focus on what's making the suspiciously sly sparkles inside of their eyes, well, sparkle. It's Barty that divulges the unravelling secret, him and Evan nudging each other with playful elbows, lingering much longer for any type of ordinary friends.
"You see, being the generous, supportive friends we are, we already went ahead and booked you a romantic table for two at Madame Puddifoots"
A moment passes, the only noise being the rocking clattering from the carriage and the other two girls' hands flying up to muffle the giggles bubbling up their throat. Affixed, they blankly stare, even when Romie's hand moves behind, two fingers lightly planting underneath Regulus' chin, sliding his head forwards to align up with hers. Then, terrifyingly calm and soft,
"They're not valuable? I can throw them off the carriage?"
Evan and Barty's smug smirks begin to falter at the corners, their throats bobbing when instead of coming to their rescue like good friends do, Regulus leans back, saying simply,
"Make it hurt"
Fortunately for Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, the transporting carriage was well within Hogsmeade village now and slowing, providing an easy escape from the impossibly scary wrath of Romie Lupin's, about to unleash on them. Hurriedly, they scramble up, jumping over the safety barrier on their side, making a bid for freedom together. Romie's searing glare follows their backs as they disappear from sight, finding shelter in one of the quirky little shops that already have bright Christmas lights dangling from the roof.
When she returns back to the carriage, her glare persists, its next victim being her Hufflepuff traitor of a best friend, already off and moving away from the carriage. She winks at Romie and hurries away with Amelia Bones, their fingertips grazing between them. Pandora had already vanished too, no doubt meeting up with Xenophilius somewhere random to do whatever Pandora and Xenophilius do.
The soft skin on the side of her face prickles and the baby hairs on the nape of her neck stick up, compelling her to connect to the pair of eyes she felt on her. Regulus absentmindedly toys with the symbolic rings hugging his slender fingers, humming to her spoken realisation,
"They all did that deliberately"
He blows out a deep breath, crossing one ankle over the other underneath the opposite bench, his long legs now extended outwards. Not manspreading through, just stretched.
"I suppose, couples utilise Hogsmeade visits as time for dates, not friend grouping"
He wasn't wrong. The majority of young couples like to spend their trip all wrapped up in one another, losing themselves in the uninterrupted romance that's difficult to find in the busy castle. Friend groups are re-connected back between the magical walls of the castle when it's time to spill all the hot, juicy details. Romie doubts she'll have anything hot or juicy to tell her friends, more along the lines of an order of reparations for what she begrudgingly says next,
"Right, well I think I owe you a butterbeer"
"Five. You owe me five" Regulus corrects, sliding his legs back in to himself in order to stand, treading on her heels.
Pushing open the door to the cosy and lively, Three Broomsticks pub, Romie kisses her teeth, cautioning, much to Regulus' indignation,
"Don't get greedy now, Black, I will retract my kind offer"
Impossible. This girl was the definition of impossible, permanently striving to make things difficult for him, challenge him, keep him high up on his tippy toes. Regulus couldn't have been more right, that very first impression he had obtained on the Hogwarts express, September first. This Romie Lupin, here, before his very self, spindly and mature, glowed with confidence and roguery.
He catches a glimpse of the smirk twisting at her smart mouth, growing bigger and bigger and bigger as his hand dipping into his pocket is noticed.
"Oh, go and sit down, you insufferable witch"
Purely delighted, Romie essentially skips away, and Regulus swears he hears her whispering something about the fancy boyfriend perks she's most certainly indulging in. Ruffling a hand through his curls, he turns towards the bar, ignoring the suggestive brows Madame Rosmerta's waggling in his direction, beginning to pour two butterbeer pints. He's not the only one at the bar, a few stools down, mirroring each other's body language, a rather friendly looking pair chat, eyes bright and smiles warm. One fourth.
One fourth of the notorious Marauders spotted already. Regulus turns, elbows resting down on the awfully sticky counter top behind, searching for the other three amongst the many clusters of teenagers keeping Rosmerta in business. It doesn't take long, Sirius' ridiculously huge ego sticking out to him like a sore thumb. Across from each other he and Remus sit, the latter listening intently as Sirius talks, hands making wild gestures that aren't too unusual given his dramatic disposition.
One fourth missing. Regulus doesn't have chance to pin point the often forgotten Marauder, for Rosmerta is handing over his butterbeers, shooing him away from her busy bar, more customers appearing left, right and centre. He weaves through the tables and chairs dragged for bigger groups, over to the secluded but visible booth in the back Romie's declared hers. Theirs.
She's already made herself comfortable, resuming the improper position he'd found her in the last trip, back pressed against the cushioning rest, knees tucked up her chest, balancing the open book she's thoroughly engrossed in. For a moment, Regulus thinks she's too engrossed to realise that he's there and has her drink, but then her head's raising, the earnest and appreciativeness evident in her eyes carrying through to her tone,
"Thanks"
Regulus silently nods, shrugging off his sable trench coat best for fighting off the Winter cold. Romie returns to the page, her heart stuttering in surprise when instead of opting for the safe option of sitting opposite, he sinks down on her right, the outer seat, almost shielding her from the rest of the pub.
"What are we reading?" He wonders, quirking a brow at the embarrassingly long length of time it takes Romie to answer.
She clears her throat, jumping at the opportunity to take a jab at him, "Don't worry, Black, around you, I know to keep the silly, baby books to a minimum"
Regulus peers down at her, his reply coming as smooth and slick as his last capture of the Golden Snitch. The one that's the cynosure of Romie's nightstand.
"As you should, Heffalump"
Romie's reaction isn't anywhere near as slick, eyebrows shooting up faster than they've ever done before, disappearing in her hairline, mouth forming an oval shape. Catatonic stupor. She stares at him, violet eyes impossibly round and wide, in a state of catatonic stupor. Heffalump. Fiery eyed, spike tailed, strange creatures of a whimsical elephant variety that intimidate a certain group of friends that Regulus Black, outrageously pompous and haughty, isn't supposed to know about.
Triumph floods the Slytherin's chest, admitting to himself that perhaps, this was one of his better moves. And not because he's just bested Romie Lupin, adding another point to his multiplying tally, because he's glimpsing something that he's never before. A smile that's genuine and real and true. And he knows it all of the above because it's not like her sly smirks, impish grins and petty smiles, toothy and forced, this one is different. Upside down. Her genuine, real and true smile, is an upside down one.
He chases after it when she goes to hide it in her sweet drink, craning his neck to check it hadn't been a figure of his imagination. It hadn't. She's smiling her upside down smile against the rim of the glass and Regulus is the one entirely responsible for putting it there. He bites his lip, deciding to go that extra yard, see if he can manage to get anything else out of her,
"Did I say it right?"
Romie side glances him from behind the loose fawn brown hairs acting as a privacy curtain for the side of her face. She huffs quietly, muttering,
"You know you did"
"It's very fitting. All the little friends fear them, and they steal their nice things" He utters, seeming well-pleased with his comparison.
A string of aw's slip out from Romie's lips, batting her inky eyelashes up at him as she asks sweetly, "Are you scared of me, Black?"
"Beyond terrified. The main feature in my nightmares" Regulus states, head shaking when Romie grins, gratified, "As it should be"
Her focus returns back to the book, no longer propped up against her thighs but open flat on the wooden table fading in colour. In between them. Even though it's not exactly in the middle, favouring her side more of course, it's near enough that Regulus too can admire the classic masterpiece entailing the story of Jane Eyre. Sedately, they read, phasing out the giddy groups and loud chatter. Phasing out the rest of the world.
When Romie's wandering hand doesn't quite grasp her butterbeer, Regulus nudges it closer until her fingers manage to curl around the handle and when Regulus doesn't quite finish one of the pages in time, Romie flicks back and patiently waits until he's done. It's all relaxed and calm and surprisingly easy. It's smooth sailing, until it's not. Until Romie's disturbed by the cruel whispers and mean giggles of Anna Pucey's clique of Slytherin girls not three tables over.
Whilst she wants to storm right over there and prove that, in truth, in actuality, the blonde is so far away from Romie's level that it's borderline pathetic, she doesn't. Instead she does something that will shut down the whispers and giggles faster than they can say her name. Covertly, she reaches for Regulus' arm that's fit and possessive and everything that Anna Pucey wants wrapped around her like a prized scarf. And it's not there.
It's not there, because that same arm, fit and possessive, was already making it's move, smoothly snaking over the far shoulder of Romie's, deft fingers slipping under the loose collar of her purply sweater. Stroking. He's stroking the soft skin of her protruding collar bone, not fitting her like a prized scarf, but a pretty necklace that draws a great deal of attention. Regulus' attention hasn't left the book, Romie realises, after a flitting glance up to him, which he slowly meets, cocking his head in question to Romie's gaze. He hadn't heard the Slytherin girls.
But he does hear the sudden kerfuffle on the opposite side of the pub. Before he even had the chance to compute what was happening, Romie was scrambling over his lap and rushing over to their thunder faced brothers.
"— You should keep your mutt on a tighter leash, Loony Lupin. Or are you the mutt in this dynamic?"
Romie pushes herself in front of her growling brother, facing the greasy haired, crooked nosed bastard that is Severus Snape, herself. His nasty smirk widens at the sight of her, sneering in a nasally tone that makes her stomach turn nauseously,
"And the bitch of the pack. My, it's no wonder Daddy abandoned the loopy pair of you"
Romie lunges at him, but soon crashes into a solid barrier, preventing her from doing such a thing. She swears, about to curse Remus' name to the high heavens. Except this wasn't Remus. Not unless Remus had managed within the five short seconds he had to darken his hair to a shade touching black and grow the length into handsome curls that have girls swooning left, right and centre.
"I don't think you have any room to talk about daddies and what they do and don't do, Snape"
Icy cold and sharp. The voice is icy cold and sharp and belongs to the solid barrier, blocking Snape from Romie. Or blocking Romie from Snape. Regulus. It's Regulus, embracing that almost terrifying dominance that comes hand in hand with being an heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.
"And I suggest you leave"
Knowing there's no other option, Snape's lip curls up at him, sweeping one last beady glance over Regulus' shoulder to rest of them before retreating away with his tail between his legs. The emerged crowd starts to scatter and Regulus turns back around, rolling his stiff shoulders and neck to free himself of the domineering state.
His pale eyes find Romie's bright ones first, dropping the jaws of Remus and Sirius' to the ground at how swiftly he switches up to a voice nice and gentle,
"Ready to move on?"
Romie hums, gaze following the neat extend of his wand, flourishing wordlessly at the book and their coats he catches in one hand. The other finds its way back to Romie's collar bone. Four, five, six, seven, Romie doesn't know what his total adds up to anymore, but there is one thing she knows for sure.
He's earned quite a few this trip alone.
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I keep forgetting to put this, everytime I upload a chapter, I'm like, oh I'll add it at the bottom but always end up forgetting. Just a piece of imagery for you all, these little hooks around the shoulders and neck, kissing her cheek that Regulus does to Romie in greeting, it's sort of like what Elton does to Cher a few times in the film Clueless. If you know you know 😉. Anyway thought I would just share that with you, hope you liked this chapter :)