"I Hear You've Been Put On Bed Rest...or, I Suppose, The Death Eater Equivalent," Reg Called Through

Alecto's shuffling betrayed her discomfort, regardless of the lack of expression on her face. Fenrir was no fan of the woman in front of him, but he wasn't entirely heartless and he didn't want to see a heavily pregnant woman sit in discomfort in his home. "The couch is softer if you want to swap. Or I have some duck feather cushions that I can offer you," he said, offering them as a truce between them. "You won't find it to be necessary, Carrow. Yes, we can be done with that topic."

Fenrir tried not to get involved with the Scottish werewolves where possible. Managing his own pack was enough work without being dragged into the internal politics of another pack - never mind that when two werewolf alphas in the same room usually led to vicious fights. But to hear that Angus had wandering hands...Fenrir wanted to apparate to Scotland and rip those hands off. It was unthinkable to him that the leader of a pack should behave in such a way. "If you were to want to depose Angus in the future, or if you wanted to teach him a lesson...I would offer my assistance," Fenrir said carefully. "I will save that favour for the future."

An owl had arrived early that morning with a time and a location for Regulus to meet one of his assigned protectors, which Reg had promptly burned. He was curious to know whether Edgar had been able to meet his request for any assigned protectors to be pureblooded, otherwise he was going to have to start thinking quickly a reason as to why he would be seen with them. He needed to speak to the auror again and see what kind of assurances he was putting in place to ensure that these protectors wouldn't turn around and betray Reg for the right price, as he was placing his life into these unknown hands.

Apparating into the back room at the Hogs Head, Regulus was grateful to see he was there first. A grubby looking pint of undisclosed beer was waiting for him, and Reg cast a few detection spells to ensure it wasn't poisoned before taking a sip with a grimace. He heard footsteps heading up the stairs before he saw the man, and as soon as James Potter rounded the corner Regulus immediately stood up. "No. No, no, no. This is not happening. This is not happening." @jamesffleamont

It felt like more missions than ever were being sent his way, and he dared not mention it to anyone else lest it sound like he was complaining about serving the Dark Lord. What had initially been nothing more than once a fortnight was becoming at least once every few days, and his other days were taken up with trying to force himself into being the man everyone expected him to be. The sight of Emmeline had the tension releasing from Regulus' shoulders - she didn't have the same level of expectation of him as some of the others, and that settled his nerves about the evening ahead.

Turning his attention back to the building that towered over them, he nodded his agreement. "It's quite beautiful, really. It's a wonder the muggles managed to create something this beautiful all on their own...or perhaps, there was wizardry involved at the time," he mused, although he supposed that if a wizard had been involved in the architecture of the muggle government then that would be documented in one of their history books. "I am familiar with curses, Merlin knows my family has enough cursed artefacts around the house...but I can certainly cast curses too."

It had been months since she'd last gotten a chance to tackle something that didn't directly involve the breaking of curses. Of course, Emmeline loved the idea of anything related to dark magic, but simply breaking things was, in the long-run, boring. What a chance to fate to find herself tasked to take care of something concerning the muggle government. So much more room for fun when those silly muggles were involved. Perhaps the recent revelations had put her in a sour mood regarding those she considered lesser than them, either way, the witch was looking forward to this.

Regulus had always been someone of promising talent, someone that even the older witch could admire for the efforts. "Good evening, Regulus." Was that the hint of a smirk hidden within the corner of her lips? Her eyes moved across the building, scanning the area. For the moment his question registered, yet the answer put on hold. "It is impressive, isn't it? Too bad it's occupied by fools." Attention diverted, it finally returned to the person next to her. "I have." Head nodding she turned toward the wizard. "There is plenty to be done here. What have you been told?" She wasn't someone willing to waste time on repeating things the other already knew. "Let me rephrase it: how familiar are you with curses?" Nothing major was needed. There was hardly a need to set the entire building ablaze, yet. - @battle-scvrs

Fenrir headed straight into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest plate of kitchen leftovers which he shovelled down. It was a mix of several dishes, but he'd been starving all day and food was food. Once he'd finished up, he tossed the plate into the sink, lazily casting a cleaning charm over it as he dug out his backpack of clothes. Shoving his dirty chefs whites into there once he'd changed, Fenrir would either head back later on to retrieve it or it would just remain here overnight depending on where the evening took them.

Nodding briskly at Thorfinn, Fenrir cast a quick goodbye over his shoulder to the owner. "Ready to go. Don't think I've ever eaten a pie so fast in my life," Fen said with a grin, prepared for the fun ahead of them. "See you there," he said, before twisting on the spot to apparate away.

Thorfinn took the shot that was being offered, downing it with his counterpart before he left. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room, at least this was a crowd of people he could be around, the odd one sticking out like a sore thumb. The wizard was curious where the night might lead him, but he was more than willing to get his hands dirty - it had been far too long since they last were.

Twenty minutes passed and he turned his attention to the door Fenrir went into, sliding off his stool when the male walked out, hands smoothing over his suit, robes waiting for them when it was time. "You ready to go?"

The summons to the auror office was of little concern to Regulus, who would quite happily shift the blame of whatever Black artefact had been found causing trouble onto his father. Regulus was extremely careful when out on missions - removing any and all personal possessions that may identify him if left behind other than his wand. Whatever the aurors believed they had found would be nothing to do with him - in fact, he'd be surprised if this wasn't more of a box-ticking exercise by the aurors to try and prove to the ministry that they were investigating something. Rounding the corner towards the meeting room he had been summoned to, Regulus stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar mess of black hair in front of him. "Sirius. What are you....why are you here?" @siriusbpadfoot

Christmas day had been entirely chaotic as he had thought it might be. Magnus was old enough now to be excited about their annual traditions, and Fen had spent the night in Nancy's spare room so that the three of them could be together as soon as Magnus woke up. That wake up call had been at 5am, with his excitable son not settling down for another few hours until Fenrir allowed him to open one small present because Santa had been. Magnus had been full of energy all morning, practically bouncing off the walls with Christmas spirit, until he finally settled down for a nap in the early afternoon after lunch.

On Magnus' first Christmas, Fenrir had sat down with Nancy and they'd decided that they would follow English traditions for Christmas but Fenrir still liked to add some Norwegian touches. As a family, they still celebrated Julaften but presents and the large lunch were saved for Christmas day itself. Magnus had his stocking on Christmas eve, and they had eaten traditional Norwegian food before Magnus went to bed to await Santa's arrival. He may no longer live in Norway, and potentially would never return, but he wanted his son to know the traditions of his heritage.

When Magnus went to sleep on the evening of Christmas day, Fenrir had bid Nancy goodnight and headed home. Entirely exhausted from two full days, Fenrir had sprawled out on his couch, an arm tossed lazily over his eyes. He had a brief power nap before the clock's chimes awoke him, and he had just a moment before Pandora arrived at their agreed time. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the witch. "Merry Christmas, Dora," he returned her kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup her cheek. "Magnus has been an absolute force of nature for two full days...it's such a joy to see him so happy. How was your day?"

where: his cottage when: christmas night who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback)

Pandora had spent the day with her family, trying to enjoy the time spent with them, but it was clear how she didn't fit in with them. She could appreciate that they seemed to focus on Octavius and how it was time for him to marry, and they spent time arguing over the idea of a potential arranged marriage. Most times she believed her parents would never bother with her, casting her off as a defect.

The day and dinner passed, finding herself making her way back home for her to pack for the night. Her night was planned. It was waiting for the time to come where she could be where she wanted to be.

When the clock struck eight, she moved from her desk, closing the notes she was working on. Her bag was at her side, reaching down to hold onto it, and that is when she apparated to his home, popping in the foyer.

It was the cracking of a fire that let her know where she could find him, making her way to the living room to find him sprawled on the couch. "Merry Christmas." Pandora sauntered over, instantly coming to lay her body on top of his, leaning down for a soft kiss. "I hope you had a good day."

There had to come a breaking point in this war at some point, but it was difficult to ignore the assumption that many of the Death Eaters were unemployed pure-blooded socialites who didn't have to worry about keeping their activities to after-work hours. That wasn't to say that there weren't plenty of Death Eaters who were employed, in fact Kingsley had his suspicions about many of the ministry employees, but he doubted that so many of the other side were as exhausted as the Order were getting. "Many things can be said about my parents, but the manners that they raised me and Sade with were absolutely perfect," Kingsley acknowledged. "Oh, absolutely she does. More than anyone."

Kingsley curled his hand around the beer glass, letting the cold sink into his skin as he considered Edgar's words. "I just...can't risk losing her. What happens to Jasper if she's gone? What happens to me if she's gone?" he said, his voice strained. "I would never dream of controlling her, and if she decides this is what she wants then by Merlin I will put her through training more rigorous than auror training. But you know as well as I that it only takes one rogue spell and that's it...the vicious scar on my side is testament to that. I'm scared for her."

He could agree with Kingsley, the nights were getting longer, and one they had finished with the ministry, they were off do order business. Things had been tense, especially with what happened with Frank, that they had their guard up more. "We can respect your mom." He laughed, a shake of his head. Edgar wanted to admit that he could tell the bars were getting busier, but his mind had been on other witches, that it was hard to keep from this thoughts, and considering his grandfather's death. "She deserves it." Ros worked hard.

Edgar could understand the worry when it came to his friends sister wanting to be part of the order, especially with have a toddler at home to take care of. He did his best to make sure the witch was out of harms way, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before she pushed for more. The wizard took a sip of his beer. "That is why we have to make sure she's trained properly." He knew how his own sister put herself in harms way at times, but it wasn't like this, grateful that she never asked to be part of what he did. "You know you are both safe with us."

There were some evenings that Regulus didn't mind company, and some where he wanted to simply people watch until the evening slipped away. He'd been planning on people watching until the time came for his mission, curiously surveying the White Wyvern to see if there was any information that could be gained. Even in these dark times, once people had a pint of beer their lips loosened and secrets were spoken louder than necessary. Watching Lucius move over to join him saw those plans slipping away, but he didn't mind it too much.

Family was everything, after all.

"I've cast a lot of complex spells today, it was quite draining. I could eat two of these I reckon...need to get my strength back up," Regulus shrugged, shovelling another forkful in his mouth. "How are you settling into married life? I saw Narcissa the other day...she seemed happy," he offered.

Lucius glanced over to the voice, one to a face he did not mind, at least a Black that was still on the right side, causing him to slip from his chair and join him at his table. Hues glance down at the pie on the table. "I did not say you were not." Company he could appreciate.

"Has it been a day that you feel inclined to eat an entire pie?" He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink. Lucius wasn't one to judge, but he was judging. That was a lie, he was always one to judge.

Since Sirius abandoned him, Regulus had felt his absence like a knife in his chest that he could never remove. It ached and it burned, but slowly over time the pain had dulled as time and distance stretched between them. It was ever present, but duller. Asking after Sirius when speaking to Andromeda had been the first time in a long time that he'd said his brother's name out loud, and that itself had shaken him. Seeing his brother in the flesh, cool and unbothered by his summons, threatened to rob Regulus of the very air in his lungs as that aching burn returned. "I'm sure they have their reasons," he said, eyeing the chair beside Sirius before he chose to remain stood stiffly. "You...you're no longer part of this family, the aurors should know to exclude you from this. Unless...it's not really to do with an heirloom at all," Regulus said, wondering if any of Sirius' perfectly good friends were aurors.

Sirius leaned back lazily in his chair, the perfect image of indifference as he crossed one ankle over the other. Despite his display of ease and disinterest, he was observant and watchful, curious what he was called he for and on alert in case it was all more than it seemed. He couldn't fathom what Black artefact would be drawn back to him, well aware his mother would do anything she could to stop him getting his hands on any Black heirlooms. He glanced behind him as the door opened, carefully hiding his surprise as his brother walked in the door. "The same reason you're here, I'd imagine. Though if you're here I'm not sure why they've asked me to come."

Regulus was trying to balance too many spinning plates between his family duties, his duties to the war, his own misgivings, and the secrets he was trying to keep. He did not want to sit here under Bellatrix's beady eye, knowing he had disappointed her since he was a boy and that he continued to be an ever present reminder of what the Black family could have had, and that they were left with him instead. He had tried - nobody could say that he hadn't tried. Merlin, he'd torn his soul in two trying to be good enough. He'd cast curse after curse, he'd trained and trained, he had gone on plenty of successful missions - yet it had stained his soul until he was truly fit for the Black name. The pressure from all sides was drowning him, pouring down his throat and choking his airwaves. He couldn't continue like this, but he couldn't see another way out. He felt like there was only one way this ended for him, and it was a permanent closure to the story of Regulus Black.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Regulus kept his eyes trained on his cousin. He would not cower in front of Bellatrix, no matter the way his insides were twisting with anxiety and fear about what she may demand of him. He loved her, truly, he did. A large part of Regulus resisting against the conscience that had been gnawing at his soul for so long had been that he did not want to go the way of Andromeda, of Sirius. He did not want to lose Bella, or Cissa. Even his parents, twisted and awful though they were, Regulus would mourn the loss of them in his life. It was all he had ever known, and stepping out into a complete unknown terrified him. At his heart, he felt like a scared little boy. He did not want to lose his family.

Bella's silence at his outburst was chilling, and he made a noise of discontentment at the finger pointed in his direction. "The mission was successful. There was no need for Rabastan to update you on my abilities in the battlefield, that is gossip. I knew you were getting updates on me, nothing is ever fucking private in this family is it?" he spat, furious at both Bellatrix and his mentor. He bit his tongue rather than retorting at her correct assumption that he was trying to distract her. Snatching a biscuit from the tray, Regulus considered that he must truly look like a toddler throwing a tantrum, yet he couldn't bring himself to care as he ate the biscuit with a frown. "Bellatrix, there is no hidden game to my words. I do not want you to teach me," he asserted. "My best is avada. The other two are equally poor, though I would say my imperio is slightly better than my crucio. But I am working on those with Rabastan, and that is the way it will stay."

"I appreciate your offer, I do. I have told you this before, I appreciate...the care that it shows. But I am fine. I don't understand how I can say it more clearly, cousin. I do not want your help."

Bellatrix had loved Sirius. She had admired his spirit, laughing at the way he stuck a middle finger up at every stuffy rule and regulation. She'd valued the way he had never tried to cramp her into a box, labelling her like every other godforsaken male in their family. But he had been full of deceit. His betrayal had destroyed her. It had fuelled her rage and sent her spinning for the Dark Lord more brutally and determinedly than she had known possible. Even now, sitting here with Regulus, she couldn't help but see his brother's face and feel her skin crawling with latent ire. Revenge would be sweet - for Regulus, as much as for herself. She would lay down her life for her youngest cousin, though the fact that he didn't seem to value her devotion hurt. She refused to acknowledge it, focussing only on the fact that the rejection was because she was too intense. It was a selfless consideration for such an egocentric witch, though in large part inspired by her unwillingness to admit to her own weakness.

Not once did she cease her observations. Her eyes may have turned away, but she could feel Regulus squirming beside her despite his valiant attempts at holding composure. She was proud of that. He could wear a mask like the rest of them, painting a picture of noble strength and stoic integrity. So as he sat back casually, a smile snaked her lips, which curved indecorously behind the rim of her teacup. Placing it back onto the saucer, she slid it onto a side table and sat, staring unflinching at Regulus as he spoke. They were like a pair of statuettes, dark haired and pale skinned, the familial resemblance running as strong as the blood that fuelled their limbs. Little did she know the depth of Regulus's struggles. Long may she remain unaware, for it would not please her to kill him. She took pleasure in the devil's work, but that would cause her no satisfaction.

She listened to everything he had to say. Though she had a vested interest in his success - though she desired it tirelessly - she was clever and wily. She would not allow emotional instincts to drive her this time, knowing how he desired detachment - for whatever absurd reason. Not once did she move. Not until his voice sharpened with anger, inspiring yet another twist of approval through her porcelain skin. As the tea splattered across the saucer, she narrowed her eyes and considered him, waiting until his diatribe had ceased.

"You have pride, Regulus. Rightly so." Pointing a finger, her eyes expanded indicatively. "But don't let it come before a fall. There was no gossiping. It was a mission, there were updates, I was informed. Do not use my devotion to the Dark Lord as a way to distract me." She arched an eyebrow, stern despite the amusement that lightened her tone and curved her harsh lips. "Nice try but I'm not an idiot. I know what you're doing. Biscuit?" Flicking her wand, she hovered a tray towards her cousin, not thinking twice about combining a pleasant refreshment with this darker topic. As it floated between them, she picked up a ginger snap and studied it before taking a bite. "Which is your best Unforgiveable and which is your worst?"