Kingsley Looked At His Friend With A Curious Eye, Wondering Exactly What Edgar Had Been Doing That Day.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips at the woman's sneered words. Whatever he'd done to piss her off, he'd clearly done it spectacularly. "You're welcome to try and make it difficult," he said, wondering how much this woman hated him and whether she would start a fight in the bar. At her warning, Fenrir finally understood. "Ah...little Lupin. He'd be so much better with his own kind, and one day he will come to know it. You should consider carefully who you are trying to threaten, or it may be you next," his voice was low as she brushed past him, and he began making his way back towards the kitchen.

There were plenty of things Aurora wanted, but she knew of the reputation that came with the white wyvern, and if they knew she was an order member, but this beast, he hurt the one she cared for. "That would be too easy for you." She sneered, standing up, catching sight of who she was here to meet. "Stay away from Remus." She warned him, brushing past him over to the witch, handing her the envelope in her hand.

Awaiting Thorfinn's appearance, Fenrir had begun sizing up the cottage in the distance. If he had to guess, he would say the place was heavily warded, though it didn't appear to have been made unplottable. At the crack of apparition, Fenrir turned to face Thorfinn and he didn't have to ask for further information before the other man offered it freely. "Witness protection," he snorted, twisting his wand in between his fingers. "What good has witness protection ever done anyone?"

"I'm always ready for fun," he said, starting to edge his way a little closer to the cottage though he stayed hidden in the tree line. "You've watched the patrols?" he asked, turning his wand on himself to cast a disillusionment charm over himself. "I don't know why we can't just kill the patrols...we can deal with whatever reinforcements they send."

Thorfinn finished his drink, watching the other come out from the back, changed and ready to go. There was nothing like having a good hunt and extracting some information. That seemed to be the go to for them. The more information they had, the better it would be for them. "See you there."

With a small twist, he popped from the white wyvern, coming out in a small clearing where a cottage stood off in the distance. He turned to find Fenrir standing there. "Corey Adler. He worked for the Minister of Magic, and was put under witness protection, and I wonder why." The last week, he had learned when patrol switch off happened and found a way to break the wards. "You ready to have a little fun. In five minutes we'll have enough time to break through and enter without anyone seeing us."

As he approached the table, whatever the patrons had been muttering ceased and their conversation dried up. With a cool stare, Fenrir asked them again if there was anything he could help with, and was greeted with silence. With a shrug, he turned to head back towards the kitchen to get back to cooking. He'd made half a step in that direction when his eyes met those of a woman who he didn't seem to recognise, but the woman was evidently trying to stare a hole through his head. "Can I help you?" he asked curtly.

This was not Aurora's usually spot, but she had a request for a certain star chart from a client. Walking through knockturn alley left her a little on edge. Finding her seat at table four, she sat with a mug of coffee, taking a sip, sort of entertained by the table in front of her, listening to them complain. Though, that amused feeling instantly shift to dread when she saw who came out approaching the table beside her. She knew Fenrir Greyback, the stories told of the one who turned Remus. The table in front of her instantly ceased any complaint. There was a chance he would turn and not notice her, but their eyes met.

Aurora had a few run-ins with Fenrir, this strong part of her wanting to make him feel the pain Remus did.

REGULUS BLACK

There was something to be said about a mental block affecting magic, and Regulus privately wondered how much research had been done on this topic. He had performed unforgivable curses before, and yet the more confused he got about his place in the world, the harder the curses were to cast. He had always been the spare, but he felt that Sirius would've been better at all of this than he was - if only his older brother wasn't a coward who had chosen to leave him behind. It frustrated him that his personal turmoil was having such an effect on his magic, but the deepening frustration was akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Regulus had been both the attacker and the victim when it came to the imperio curse, and the peace on Rabastan's face was a feeling that he knew all too well. An all-encompassing peace where he felt like nothing could go wrong. His parents were fast and loose with the use of unforgivables in the home, and Regulus had found himself at the end of his father's wand on more than one occasion. Watching his mentor pirouetting made Regulus snort in amusement, and he knew he'd made the right choice in action. "I think you'd make a wonderful ballerina...we should get you some shoes, and a little tutu," he chuckled, his eyes full of mirth.

Whilst still laughing, Regulus subtly twisted the wand at his side and cast "imperio" once again, hardly giving Rabastan a moment to recover. This time he put all of his effort into willing Rabastan to surrender his wand to Regulus.

Rabastan thought nothing of Regulus's inability. The younger wizard was capable and keen. He had no doubt that he would master his challenges soon enough, and he understood that personal circumstances could affect one's efficiency. He did not approve of permitting emotions to cloud efforts, but not everyone could discard them as stoically as himself.

The spell washed over him. Sweet ecstasy pervaded his mind with the type of addictive peace that could be oh-so tempting to indulge. This curse brought no pain, but its potency should not be underestimated. There were worse things than agony. The Imperius was like a siren's call, summoning its victim to their untimely demise with nothing but exquisite calm. It felt almost like a warmth and he did not resist, having no desire to throw the spell aside. He had wanted to see what Regulus could do, so his mind was open and his heart felt freely.

Executing the pirouettes with a skill he definitely did not normally possess, he suddenly snorted, disturbing the spell by thinking of how ridiculous he must have appeared. It broke the curse, and for a moment he wobbled one one leg, losing all of his non-existing balletic expertise while loudly laughing.

"I'm sorry, Regulus," he wheezed, straightening up and staring at the other wizard. "That was very good, but I suddenly realised how stupid I must look."

Fenrir had a feeling that they would end up circling back to the subject of Anders Greyback later on in the evening. He'd expected further questions immediately, but equally he wasn't surprised that Pandora wanted to go straight from business to pleasure. "Oh, he deserved it all and more," Fenrir growled out, his heart black and bitter. Anders had shown Fenrir how not to be a father, and he was grateful that the man would never have a chance to know Magnus.

With hands firmly on Pandora's hips, Fen took the opportunity as she bared her neck to him to press hot kisses down her jawline. He was preparing to apparate them, wanting to get into the privacy of his own home otherwise they would end up just staying here - which, honestly, he wouldn't mind too much either. "My darling, what do we need to do? Can it not be done at home? I'm an impatient man.."

When it came to Fenrir, she had no desire to tame the beast that he was, she fully accepted all that he was. Body flushing against his, like two magnets drawn to each other, touch one of the ways they were able to express what they meant to each other. In moments like these, all around them faded into darkness, leaving the beast that enthralled her entirely at her mercy. Pandora did not miss the flash of desire that burned in his eyes. "Good," a single word that held his promise of what would come.

Pandora had made a mental note, tucked away in the back of her mind, to ask him more about his father. She wished not to spoil the moment they were sharing, but felt there was more to his story that perhaps he would share with her. The stories he would tell her about his life and pack, she could listen to endlessly, finding his voice soothing.

"Then he deserved to get what he had coming." The witch could only assume something terrible happened and she already had a hatred for the dead man. Her head lolled back against the tree trunk, wild hues drinking in the beast in front of her, breaking away from the heated, passionate, kiss. "Yours...." Desperate to find release for the growing anticipation of what was to come building inside of her, but at the mention of the clock, realising she had to protect him.

"We must do one thing first." She glances over to the clock.

Up until now, Regulus had been incredibly careful about those he'd spoken to about his changing allegiances. He'd asked Edgar to honour that by keeping the true source of the information anonymous, and keeping the circle of protectors as small as possible. If he didn't accept James as a protector, that was a loose end and a risk. It infuriated him that this situation was clearly Edgar trying to honour Regulus' demands, and therefore he had been the harbinger of his own doom (if one wanted to be so dramatic, which he did). This would require a lot of contact with James, which he vehemently did not want.

Reg shrugged his shoulders, glancing down at his shoes. "Nobody likes wet socks," he murmured. When everything else was spiralling out of his control, wet socks was something entirely stupid and mundane that he could indeed control. As James settled the bottle back down, Reg snatched it up again and took another long swig. "I don't think you want me going anywhere near your head with a wand at the moment, not given how much firewhiskey I've just swigged. If you want to take the risk though..." he trailed off, quirking an eyebrow in James' direction. "What sort of test? Do you want to pinch me to make sure I'm real? I assure you this is actually happening, despite every atom of my body fucking begging for it to be a nightmare. I'm not sure even the Dark Lord himself could conjure up this particular situation, and yet Edgar Bones has just....well."

"What's not to understand? Edgar told you the situation, I assume. You volunteered because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, and unfortunately, the person is me. Here to continually disappoint people, as ever," he offered James a tight smile - a mask of protection. "My conscience finally won over my people-pleasing nature. I expect it will kill me, but that's the risk I've accepted. I'm sure if you go to Edgar and explain, he'll let you out of this assignment."

The universe was very clearly playing a prank on him. It was obvious. After twelve years of dishing them out, now, finally, his punishment had come, some kind of divine retribution in the form of this sick practical joke – and not a very funny one, at that. James bitterly willed the universe to try harder. He'd always felt justice would come back around to bite him in the arse one day, but couldn't have in his wildest dreams predicted something like this: Regulus Black, betraying his family’s cause, under James’ protection. The whole thing was outrageous.

Despite everything, he let out a breath of laughter. "It was getting into your socks," he repeated, amused, as if it were the most nonsensical thing in the world. To be honest, everything in this room right now seemed to be nonsensical. Walking around the table, he picked up the bottle and took a swig. Face immediately soured at the taste. He replaced it on the table, sliding it across towards Regulus. "I'll obliviate you, you obliviate me?" he suggested. "I can't believe this is happening. Surely it's not real. Is it a test, d'you think?" He nodded. "I think we might be, too."

James chewed his bottom lip. "Okay, you're going to have to explain what's happening here, because I don't understand."

Before James had arrived, Regulus had been occluding heavily to prevent the Order member reading his mind should they possess the ability to do so. As he'd let his wand clatter down to the table, Regulus had let those mental walls drop slightly - still present as ever, but not as heavy as he had been before. There was little in his life that Regulus had to himself - his memories and his thoughts were all he could cling to. "Other developments," he said, offering no further context. "I never stopped caring. That was never the issue, James, and you know it," he said, levelling James with a firm stare. Perhaps he wasn't just talking about Sirius any more, though he'd never admit it if pressed. "I know I can't control what he thinks, but I can control the way that he finds out and the manner it's delivered. It won't take away from what I have done previously either, and I fear that's all he'll look at. Oh, Sirius has been through a lot has he? And that gives him the right to react poorly, but not me the right to want to deliver the news myself? We've all been through a lot, James," Regulus said, immediately getting his back up at James' defence of Sirius. For all Regulus knew, Sirius had left the family home and had an easy ride of it all. "Oh, I think he might. Your precious Order was his thing, and now his little brother's back riding his coat-tails yet again."

The sharp sting of his nails against his skin helped to ground Regulus somewhat, aching to tear the Dark Mark off though he knew it wasn't possible. He abandoned his forearm to grasp the mug of beer, before he smiled though there was no humour behind it. "Pretty hard to undo twenty years worth of thoughts. They're all tangled up in my brain, dark vines weaving around each other. It's just...me," he said with a small frown. "You can't protect me from myself, James," he said gently. "A good son is someone who does his duties well, who marries well and continues the family name. Who explores the Dark Arts and furthers pure-blooded ideology. A good Death Eater is similar - he knows his duties, he focuses on the ideology, he pledges his undying devotion to the Dark Lord and he explores the dark arts and wields them without second thought. It's quite simple, really, if I didn't hate every bit of it." Regulus wasn't lying. He understood all of it - he knew what was expected of him, and up until now he had done it without outward complaint. It was simple in theory, until he started to see the harm he was doing and the reality of what would be to come if the Dark Lord won.

As James asked what more the Order could do, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, shaking his head. "I'm no strategist, or leader. But facing the Order from the other side...half of you don't even appear to be accomplished duelists. Do you have field healers, strategists who can think on their feet if something goes against plan? And how many of your Order members won't touch even a simple curse? You need to get comfortable using curses, even the darker ones...I'm not saying unforgivables because I know you won't cross that line. But if you have 10 Order members who want to stun and disarm and 10 Death Eaters who are willing to kill and maim to get what they want, my money is on the Death Eaters every time. Using only defensive magic is going to gain no ground."

Sighing deeply, Regulus took another long sip of his beer. "Maybe it's not entirely true, but when you're suffocating under relenting pressure, that's how it feels like. I don't know how to live without feeling like I have to perform for people like a fucking court jester," he said. "You can't possibly imagine what it's like having lessons to teach you to be better at curses that torture and control people, and I hope you never do. You're too good for that, Potter. I can see that you don't wanna talk about all my sins, so I'll...we'll leave it there," he said, wondering if this would forever change the way James looked at him.

Leaning back into his chair, Regulus' gaze followed James' movements as he took a long drink. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he tried to make sense of the change in tone. "James, c'mon man. Don't be like that," he said, not daring to put what he thought James' tone meant into words. "I can practically feel you itching to ask the question, though I'm not sure you actually want the answer. It's Caradoc."

If he didn't think it was an outrageous violation of privacy, James might've wished to be a Legilimens in that moment so that he could find out what Regulus was thinking, to know whether it was similar to what was going through his own head. He wondered vaguely whether Regulus could read his mind. Although he wouldn't be too surprised if he could, James sincerely hoped not. He wasn't sure how he'd recover. "Other developments?" James quirked an eyebrow. He bit back a comment about how he didn't know he was still in contact with Andy, because, at the end of the day, there was a lot else James didn't know about Regulus any more; if they opened this Pandora's box, he wouldn't know if they'd ever stop. "Being scared is a good thing, sometimes, I think. Means you still care," he said. He looked at him earnestly. "Honestly, Reg, you're not in control of what he thinks. I get that it's Sirius, and of course, he means a lot… I know more than anyone … but that's not your burden to bear. It won't take away from what you've done no matter what his immediate gut reaction to it is. And know that however he reacts is because he cares, too. He's just been through a lot." That was an understatement. He'd defend Sirius until his dying breath, over anyone. But James realised what that sounded like, and quickly added, "Not that I think he's going to react badly."

Not missing the way Regulus' hand went to his forearm, James almost squirmed, but masked this visceral reaction of disgust by summoning two mugs of Wizard's brew from the bar downstairs. He levitated one of them to set itself down in front of Regulus, before taking a long, deep sip of his own. "How do we get you to stop being so harsh on yourself?" Rich, coming from James, but his concern was reserved only for others. No time for self-examination. "As your officially appointed protector, I think that's my first order of business, because, Merlin, you're eating yourself alive. You're just doing your best, Regulus. There's no handbook for these types of things. What's a good son anyway, in a family like yours? What's a good death eater?" He sat up straighter in his seat, intrigued. "What d'you mean? What else do you think we can we do?" As one of the youngest members, James didn't have much say in the way the Order was run, or anything at all, really. It was mostly just following instructions. At this point, he was starting to wonder himself how to make a real difference, because it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere. James nodded. "And not just him. Everything he stands for, too."

A deep crease settled between his eyebrows. "C'mon, you know that's not true," he frowned, lips in a tight line. The first time I crucioed someone. The syllables reverberated in his head, again and again until the words didn't sound real any more. The first time –. Suddenly, James was overcome by the overwhelming desire to run away so he wouldn't find out what else Regulus had done. He hoped he wouldn't tell him. He couldn't stomach it. He felt stupid for being so stunned. What did he think death eaters did? Go out and frolic in fields of daisies? "I don't even know what that would've felt like. Can’t even begin to imagine it. I’m sorry.” He wanted to stop talking about this, but would go on for as long as Regulus needed. "Well, for the record, you do have family that would be proud of you. Andy, Ted, Sirius. Hey, probably Uncle Alphard, too, although I can't speak for him."

There it was. James took a swig of the drink in front of him. He ought to have expected it, really. The Black family curse. It always did happen after they met someone. "Oh, yeah? That sounds really ... great." Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did he sound so disingenuous? Was he being crazy? James willed himself to look up at Regulus, mentally going through every muggleborn man in the Order. "Honestly, that's really great. I'm so happy for you. It's ... a big thing to realise."

Regulus had shown Caradoc more of his true self than he'd shown to anyone else in years - maybe even since Sirius left. He'd been able to show Caradoc his love of the muggle way of cooking, and hadn't had to pretend that the food he was serving had been made by a house elf. He'd shown Caradoc some of the gentleness that he thought had been left behind in the halls of Hogwarts along with the ghosts, and it had softened him. Caradoc had managed to break down his cold exterior, and with the slow removal of the bricks that Regulus had built around himself, the more uncomfortable he'd grown with his position in the war.

Leaning comfortably into his embrace, Reg smacked a kiss against Caradoc's cheek. "I'm sorry it's been so long...it's been kind of a wild time since I last saw you. I guess I've got a lot to say, and I definitely couldn't say it in a letter," he said, his voice taking on a tinge of nervousness. He wasn't entirely sure how Caradoc was going to take his news, but he wanted to be open and honest. "How nasty, my dear? I could never do your job...I seem to be better at setting curses off than breaking them," Reg said, thinking back to a recent mission where he accidentally tripped a curse because he was distracted.

As they settled onto the couch, Reg flicked his wand towards a pot of cinnamon tea that he'd made earlier and warmed it before charming it to pour two cups. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and the world outside seemed to fade away as it always did when he was with Caradoc. "I won't keep you wondering too much longer. I've got a lot to tell you."

Caradoc immediately relaxed as Regulus’s arms wrapped around his waist, closing his eyes for a second. He always felt safer here, even more safe than his own home, because of the protective wards Regulus had. Plus, he knew that if this was bad news, Regulus wouldn’t have embraced him so warmly. It reminded Caradoc of how special this was, that he got to experience and see the soft side of his . . . Boyfriend? He wasn’t really sure what the label was, but it didn’t matter. They were together and they both knew it, that was enough.

He accepted the kiss with a smile, wrapping his arms around Regulus’s neck. “Hi. I missed you too. Receiving your owl was definitely a nice surprise. I didn’t want to risk my letter being compromised if I replied, so I came here as soon as possible. Just returned from a job this morning, had to deal with a nasty curse,” he replied, rambling on a bit. He was trying not to let it show how eager he was to hear this news. Caradoc had tried to speculate on what it might be, but couldn’t decide on a good guess.

Figuring that they should settle in, Caradoc took Regulus’s hand and wandered over to the couch, sitting down on it. He had dressed comfortably, with a snug jumper and jeans on.

While Fenrir loved their physical relationship, it was the quiet moments like this where he felt like there was the potential for more. There was the undeniable issue of their difference in species, but for now, that didn't matter too much. Shifting slightly so that she could fit better on the couch, Fenrir leaned his head against hers. The warmth of the fire, a full stomach and the softness of the witch in his arms were the perfect concoction for a Christmas nap but he wouldn't dishonour Pandora or her time like that. "When they talk about the magic of Christmas, they don't talk about how feral five year olds can be with wrapping paper."

Noting the way that Pandora wanted to swiftly move on from discussion of her own day, Fenrir just snorted at the mention of Octavius. "I'm sure he fucking loved that. Someone will make a respectable man of him eventually," he sniggered.

Fenrir would not bring any of his hook-ups near Magnus, not wanting to expose the boy to any undue risk - or confuse him as to why his father was with different women. Fenrir and Pandora still weren't exclusive, but it had been some time since anyone other than Pandora had truly captured his attention. If it were just up to him, Fen would introduce Pandora to Magnus the next day. "I think it might be time. I would need to check with Nance though, see how she feels about it. She's almost as protective as I am, if not more. I will speak to her this week and see how she feels, if that's okay?"

Pandora leaned into his touch, resting her forehead against his, embracing the moment between them. She could see the tiredness in his eyes, shifting her body between the back of the couch and his, letting a leg drape over his waist, a palm coming to rest on his chest and her head on his shoulder. It was spending their time like this that mattered to the witch.

"My day was like the rest, besides a fancier dinner and a few extra family there." Pandora really didn't want to bore him with the irrelevant family talk, not that much attention was placed on her, which she preferred, blending into the wall, allowing herself to eat and quietly dismiss herself from the table. "Normal pureblood talk about marriages, for Octavius."

"One day, I want to be there with you two." Pandora let the words free in a soft tone. She knew all about Nancy and their co-parenting, impressed that they were able to do so. She also knew her feelings for Fenrir and they had discussed how to proceed with Magnus involved, which she agreed, whilst they figured them out. "I'd like to meet Magnus, if you think we are at that point." Hues glance up at him, the pad of her finger circling absentmindedly on his chest. She knew what she wanted.