╰┈➤ regulus black x oc
❝every summer ends in the same way: heartbreak, hangovers, and hatred.❞
❝you're just being dramatic, ophelia.❞
☄. *. ⋆ in which ophelia potter's pre-ministry summer holiday in france accidentally turned into a romance that sh...
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was this a date?
ophelia had pondered the ethics and guidelines of going out with regulus in the late afternoon in a french city, as france was allegedly a country of romance, as much as it was a country of art, muggle warfare, and the occasional bouts of racism. she ultimately decided it wasn't, purely to avoid the troubling concept of pitching the clarification to regulus, who, as you knew, took romantic advances as an excuse to practice his running skills. because, either way, remus' words still somewhat stuck in her mind.
it must be said that you do not want to become involved in their politics for a bit of action.
most of her fouler interactions with regulus back at hogwarts had indeed been spats and half-fledged arguments over the concept of blood purity; him maintaining that was how it should have been, while she was on the polar side calling him an insensitive bitch and politely informing him that his opinion was poppycock.
she'd matured a bit more from using 'poppycock' unironically, however she was not sure how much six years could impact someone's beliefs, or their mindset– after all, hers had been set in stone since age four, and showed no major epiphanies since she'd gotten out of doll-sized clothes.
so yes, it was not a date.
"fucking hell, you have to be kidding me." regulus' eyebrows had shot up instantly upon seeing ophelia, which, if she had been keeping track, was a whole new record.
"nope, i'm completely and utterly serious." she may have pronounced the word like his brother's name, but that was simply a verbal typo, if that was possible to accomplish. maybe she was nervous? obviously she wasn't, from the smug little grin on her face.
bikes.
she'd gone through the objects that her father had dug out of the basement for the night of the full moon (that evening, cough, cough), and found three old bicycles, all a rusted teal with little woven baskets attached to the front. a little magical lubricant and meddling was no match for the weathering over the years; they looked good as new.
regulus was dressed in a plain shirt and formal pants, perhaps why he was eyeing the bikes ophelia had procured with such trepidation. his hair seemed recently washed (as if it was not perfectly groomed when they had met earlier that day), and slightly damp, the curls more defined as they caught the sheer glow of the setting sun over the buildings, mirrored on the water.
"where did you even get them?" regulus asked, gingerly leaning against the railing as he scrutinized her, the expression on his face humorously conflicted.
"i have my ways." was her reply, flipping up the stand for one of the bikes and wheeling it over to him, causing him to take a step back.
"i thought we were going to take a walk or something?" regulus snorted, flicking his gray eyes back up to her. "now i see you have lured me into a trap of humiliation."
