❝You don't find me handsome?❞ Regulus' breath tickles the nape of Laura's neck, sending a wave of happiness down her spine.
She leans backward to fake a scowl up at him. ❝I find you utterly repulsive.❞
His lips quirk as he ducks his head down to k...
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REGULUS BLACK'S BIG grey eyes, Laura regretfully decides, are the prettiest things she's ever seen.
Her decision only comes from a place of mere observation, of course, but it's true all the same. They swirl and dance in a way she's never seen before, and their beauty makes her bristle with envy. They're spectacular in comparison to her own blue hues, which are the type of blue that isn't quite light enough to be a striking burst of baby blue, nor dark enough to have a beautiful resemblance to some form of water. They were a dull impasse, as though her eyes couldn't decide between a pretty color, so they went with the most boring one.
The impasse much resembles her life. A bleak, boring nothingness that she somehow cherished all the same.
"You seem to be improving." Regulus' words, much like Laura's thoughts, carry no intent other than to observe.
The scowl on Laura's lips flinches slightly. To be truthful, she's been checking out ever since their session had begun. Sure, Regulus didn't know it, due to her well-timed page turns and faux-attentiveness, but Laura had barely gotten any sleep last night.
Sirius had decided yesterday to throw a party in the Gryffindor commons to precede the Quidditch game happening later today, and Peter had snuck in some of Madam Pomfrey's medicinals for everyone to smoke. Laura woke up in Remus' clothes in his bed, as per usual, and her night had been anything but restful.
Being high can do that to a witch.
Laura sniffs to cover up a yawn. "I've been studying." It feels like a simple enough excuse, but Regulus leans forward across the table and causes Laura to push away in confusion. "What are you—"
"Are you fucking hungover?"
Laura's delicate fingers pick at the skin of her thighs, the pain helping to fight the exhaust weighing heavy on her body. "What makes you say that?"
Regulus sits back into his seat, crossing his arms. "You smell like poppyweed and whiskey."
Laura pulls up the collar of her sweater to sniff at it curiously. "I don't smell anything, though." Her brain is still groggy from her body's destitute lack of sleep and hydration, so she doesn't register the annoyance that flashes across Regulus' face.
"Were you dropped on the head as a child?" Regulus questions, catching Laura off-guard. "I truly want to know, because only a dimwit wouldn't realize that if they've been fucking their immune system up with poppyweed, they won't smell it after a while."
"Well then how can you smell it?" Laura retorts, a particularly painful pinch to her thigh making her angry for no reason whatsoever. "I've seen you use poppyweed before, back at the Black Manor."
"The effects are temporary, Lovegood, not permanent," Regulus responds irritably. He looks as though he's growing tired of trying to explain, but Laura won't have it.
