Letting The Heat From The Mug Sink Into His Bones, Kingsley Found Himself Relaxing Back Into The Sofa.

Irritated and overstimulated from the busy shopping street, Regulus wasn't trying to be a pain to anyone else and yet the other woman's attitude immediately got his back up. Drawing on every inch of bitterness his mother taught him, Regulus stared at Georgette with a cool stare. "You're not the only one in a time crunch, so you can wait your turn politely," he said, his gaze dipping to the mess of her hands. "You can't brew in that state, surely. You might be better going to Mungos for a pre-brewed potion. These ingredients are going to do nothing for you," he said haughtily, before reaching for a vial of Jewelweed.

While working with her hands and the splinters that lived in Georgette's fingers was something she lived for, there were times that she had to get some of the wood out of her skin. Normally she had a brew set up for such occasions but had realized, while bleeding, that the last drop wasn't going to do what was needed to repair her skin. Damn. She hated leaving the store but she couldn't work well if her hands were to the point they had found themselves -- she had gone a little too far without healing herself properly. It would be great to say it was the first time but when it came to her work that wasn't the case nor would it be the last.

She washed her hands with soap and water then gathered her things to run to the Apothecary, rushing between people, trying to get the errand done as quickly as possible. Unfortunately when she got into the store someone was standing just where she needed to be. If Georgette had it her way she would have just shoved him out of the way and not thought twice about it but there were too many people around and she didn't want to deal with attention from others. "I don't know who you think you are but some of us are in a bit of a time crunch so if you could --" she motioned for him to shove off while trying desperately not to shove him herself.

If it were anyone other than Alecto, the silence in return to his owl may have irritated Regulus. He was nothing if not meticulous with his life and his plans - he liked to have every minute of his day planned down to the second, and being left guessing whether his friend would appear at all didn't slot in with a well planned evening, yet Regulus could never truly be annoyed by Alecto. If he'd timed it better, he might've been able to get food on the table before Alecto appeared so she would have no reason to suspect it was made by anyone other than an elf. For now, all he could do was back track slightly. There were a few people who knew of Regulus' preference for muggle cooking, and he wasn't sure that Alecto wouldn't take that knowledge straight to his parents...or worse. Any hint of muggle sympathy was a risk these days, even if it was merely cooking. "Kreacher was here, he made the dinner but had to return to Grimmauld to prepare food for my parents...I'm only getting it out of the oven," he shrugged, grateful that he had cleaned up the rest of the dishes as he went along. "I'm glad I don't have to replace my owl. I was afraid that he was losing letters halfway along his journey."

Alecto had received an owl from Regulus, contemplating whether she should attend or not. No message would be returned, leaving the wizard in a state of guessing on if she would attend or not. It was with Rabastan busy with work that would keep him later than expected, that she decided that she would make the visit over to the youngest Black. Growing up together, he had been one that she was rather fond of, even more so with the departure of Sirius and Andromeda, knowing that it was important to keep him with on the right side of the cause. She would never admit her soft spot for him. Her nose wrinkled when he mentioned the kitchen, making her inside to witness his muggle ways. "Regulus," biting back a remark. "You did not have to do this for me." She would be more pleased to see the house elf doing the work.

"Oh, if I were suddenly nice, assume that I've got some sort of terminal illness and I'll be gone within the week," he snorted with amusement, pulling a vial of powdered griffin claw from the shelf. "There's a difference between knowing, and hoping. Let a man cling to the only hope he has left for a bit of peace, Val."

“I think the moment that you are suddenly nice, we all know that something is up with you,” Val agreed with the young man standing in front of her. Regulus wasn’t known for his sunny display. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the next comment from him. “I’m sorry, that was me not being nice this time around. You should know by now that Diagon Alley is never busy.”

"But I've been so cruel to you. We've been so cruel to you, and to...Ted, never mind little Nymphadora. I wouldn't have blamed you at all if you'd said no, and left me to it," Regulus said, a slight wobble to his voice that he tried to pass off with a cough. "I'm glad I did too," he said with a small smile. "Just to set you at ease, this house is very strongly warded. Nobody can apparate or floo inside without a warning first, so if another of our relatives were to appear you would get enough warning to be able to disappear quickly. Nobody really visits me though, I wouldn't worry too much," he shrugged. He liked it that way - it kept his home private and comfortable, and he was more than happy to put in plenty of appearances at his parents house or his other cousins' various manors if it kept them away from his place.

Letting Andromeda take his hand, Reg squeezed back, desperate for the comfort that was being offered. He was silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to voice everything that had been going on. "I...don't think I'm on the right side any more," he gasped out eventually, the words tripping from his lips. "Merlin, I'm absolutely shit at it. I'm probably the worst Death Eater out there. But my ability, or lack thereof, has nothing to do with this. I just...y'know when something's just not sitting right, like in here," he said, gesturing to his chest. "But I'm marked, they made sure of that as soon as Sirius left. I'm just his replacement, the spare...and I'm fucking awful at everything, and the torture makes me sick...and I just....I don't know what to do."

Regulus let the words hang in the air for a moment, before figuring that he had already gone in with secrets that would kill him if she ever told anyone. "And...I've been seeing someone for a few months now. He's lovely. He's muggle-born."

“We’re family. I’ll always be here.” To her that meant regardless of the past, she would always be there for them. They may have wanted nothing to do with her after the choices she’d made, but it changed nothing for her. “And I’m glad you did reach out.” She made her way over to the couch and sat down, observing her surroundings as she waited for Regulus to return. It was so quiet, she only hoped there wouldn’t be any surprise guests while she was here. She knew how the Black family could be when it came to privacy after all. As he returned, her attention went to him. There was no missing the dark shadows beneath his eyes, he looked exhausted. Haunted perhaps would have been a more apt description, leaving her concerned for his well-being.

Without thought, her hand reached for his, an attempt to reassure and comfort him. “You know whatever’s going on that you can talk to me Reg.” Her eyes searched his, trying to understand what might be going on in that brain of his. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Bellatrix was more infuriating than his parents, at this point. Once he'd taken the mark and shown some initial devotion to the cause, his parents had backed off content in the knowledge that at least one son was doing the right thing. Without him being marked, Regulus would never have been allowed to move out of the family home, or take his job at the ministry which allowed him more freedom than he'd ever had. But Bella's care manifested in intense devotion, and he worried that he would never be able to get her to give up on this desire for him to be better than he was. All Regulus wanted to do was live his life in peace, and study the intricacies of magic at the Department of Mysteries. It would be a quiet life, but it was his - and that diverted from his family's view.

He was just thankful that they hadn't started pressuring him to take a wife and to continue the line.

Regulus knew his cruciatus would disappoint his cousin immeasurably. He had seen her wielding it on missions, and though he hated the curse, he had to admit that watching Bellatrix cast it was almost like an art form. Watching Bella lift her wand after his first poor attempt had panicked him, fearing that the curse was heading his way, and it was that panic along with his earlier fury that led to a slightly stronger second attempt though it was still poor.

His chest was heaving with the effort of casting even such a weak curse, sweat beading at his brow. "But I..." he trailed off, stopping himself. He had been about to say that he didn't love it, which was potentially the worst thing he could say in the presence of his cousin beyond confessing to his muggle-born lover. The rest of his thought was cut off as he stared down the end of his cousin's wand, pupils dilating in fear. He knew that he'd been poor, but he hadn't anticipated Bella torturing him for it. As red flashed, Regulus flinched away, shrinking into himself to try and protect himself from the inevitable pain. He could hear Bella laughing, and the sound sickened him. After a moment, he realised her curse had been directed elsewhere - and when he looked back at his cousin, there was something new in his gaze. The faintest hint of disgust, hidden behind the layers of fear.

"I don't need you to tell me it was poor, Bella. I know it," Regulus sneered, pushing away from the table as he stood. Thinking back on Rabastan's teaching Regulus dug into his confused emotions as he stared at his dishevelled cousin, and with his voice dripping with disgust he held his wand steady and cast "imperio." Tilting his head slightly, he went for the same command he had given Rabastan. It would upset Bella as much as it had upset Rabastan. "Your wand. Give me your wand."

Regulus was testing Bellatrix's patience. Truly, this was more demanding than any mission gifted to her by the Dark Lord. She could not torture the boy, and neither did she want to. She could barely manipulate him, since familial intimacy meant he knew her well. Force had not benefited her with Regulus and she felt that she was losing ground. It was a situation most perturbing and undeniably irksome. Her rage still lingered as he spoke reassuringly, her palms still splayed against the couch as though she were trying to ground herself. Yet even then, she managed to locate an ounce of pride, acknowledging that the boy did not give up easily. Regulus was proving to be a challenging project. He did want to learn and he respected the need to study magic further. She would give him that much. It was admirable despite his misplaced tutelage. Had she known that he had mastered Occulmency, she would have thought of him more highly. But she knew nothing of it.

"Very well." Arguing was going nowhere. She was growing tired and bored and frustrated. She wanted to move on. "As I promised, I will make no further demands after you show me your curses."

They were one curse down and she was looking forward to seeing his Cruciatus. By far her favourite of the Unforgiveables, Bellatrix wielded it with devastating adoration. Her skill with it was calamitous. It fed her sadism and brought her a high like nothing else. Nothing could compare - not sex, not drink, not even death itself. So when Regulus's spell danced from her dress without so much as even a feeble tickle, she sighed with dramatic disappointment and raised her wand to show him how it should be done. Fortunately for him, she hadn't expected his second attempt. It stunned her, crushing her back against the chair with something akin to an electric shock. Her shriek pierced the silence like a knife cutting silk, then she laughed wildly, gasping for air and sliding halfway down her chair as the spell receded.

There was pain. It did hurt. But not as it should. Regulus's spell lacked substance and finesse. Since her own wand had fallen to the ground, she reached down to retrieve it, her normally steadfast fingers trembling in the aftermath and her hair now askew at a tremendously jaunty angle.

"You didn't mean it, cousin. You need to want it. You need to love it." Wand now in hand, she directed it mercilessly between Regulus's eyes, wanting to see what emotions would reveal themselves in that flicker of an instant. Her breath was still ragged, her position still lopsided against the chair. Insane, some called her. But that was a lie told by fools and enemies. There was no madness within Bellatrix Lestrange. There was only pure, unadulterated awareness. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew that she adored it. With a slashing motion, she cast the curse at a portrait, the flashing red causing the illusion of blood as the picture's occupants screamed in horror. Their disarray clashed horribly with Bella's laughter, her mirth ringing true and bold with shamelessness. Even in her mildly weakened state, that curse would have been crippling. She would spare Regulus from a direct hit.

Slowly, she pushed back up into her seat and steadied herself. She wouldn't bother giving him an assessment. He knew it had been poor, but she supposed he'd tried his best. "Now the Imperius. You weakened me-" She paused, shrugged dismissively and wryly simpered, "well, sort of. But it should help you nonetheless. Let's see if I can resist."

(cw: brief mentions of child abuse) "To know me is to hate me, is to hate what I've become."

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Regulus Arcturus Black NICKNAMES: Reg, Reggie. AGE: 21 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black FATHER: Orion Black SIBLINGS: Sirius Black (estranged)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Timothee Chalamet BUILD: Slender. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: The Dark Mark on his left arm. No other anomalies - the male heirs to the House of Black had to be perfect (meaning, his parents always ensured any marks were healed once the lesson had set in). SCENT: Expensive aftershave, sandalwood shampoo. ACCENT: English southern upper class ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Regulus lives fairly exclusively in black. NERVOUS TICS: Leg bouncing when he's trying to think, wand twirling between his fingers.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Small terraced house in Mould-on-the-Wold, alone. BORN:  12 Grimmauld Place RAISED:  12 Grimmauld Place PETS: Tawny Owl that Regulus has had since his first year at Hogwarts, named Apollo.

CAREER: Unspeakable in Training EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters

DRUGS: Occasionally SMOKES: Regulus started smoking cigarettes shortly after leaving Hogwarts. If that coincides with the time that he took the Dark Mark, then that's merely a coincidence. ALCOHOL: Regulus does drink alcohol. Regulus is quite fond of a muggle whiskey that he tried once, though he would never dare to confess that to his family. DIET: Varied, but very rich.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Latin.

FEARS: Regulus has claustrophobia, drilled into him when his mother would fly into a rage and lock him into a closet as punishment until Reg begged for forgiveness for whatever misdemeanour he had committed. Regulus is also terrified of being left behind whilst the rest of his family and friends move forwards with their lives. He's scared that he is too much for people, that he has too much baggage and nobody can manage it adequately. HOBBIES: Quidditch/flying, reading, wizards chess.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The front room of his home, the first place he has ever felt truly comfortable in. He enjoys curling up in front of a roaring fire and settling down with a good book. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps GAME: Wizards chess. FOOD: A comforting beef stew with dumplings. BEVERAGE: A good cup of tea. COLOR: Black.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 12 and three quarter inches, Cypress wood, Dragon Heartstring core, supple. AMORTENTIA: Burning candles, roasted garlic, spices, the air just after a heavy rainstorm. PATRONUS: Regulus is unable to cast a patronus. BOGGART: Himself. Regulus is terrified of people seeing him the way he sees himself - broken, selfish, alone.

Bio:

Regulus is the second child born to Orion and Walburga Black. From a young age, it was drilled into Regulus that they were special - their family were ancient and noble, and better than even other purebloods. All Regulus ever wanted was the approval of his parents and his brother, and so he would do anything to keep himself in their good graces. He dutifully listened to his mother's droning lectures about their self-importance and took as much of it as he could on board, desperate to keep his mother happy. There was nothing more important than family loyalty, this much was clear to Regulus.

Regulus remembers tearfully saying goodbye to Sirius on Platform 9 and 3/4s when Sirius went to Hogwarts for the first time. His mother had clipped him around the ear for that, telling him firmly that boys didn't cry. The news that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor hit Grimmauld Place with an impact no less than if a bomb had gone off, and Regulus knew then that he would beg and plead with the sorting hat to put him in Slytherin even if it wasn't right. He couldn't let his parents down, not when Sirius had. One of the Black boys had to uphold family tradition, and his big brother had passed that mantle onto Reggie's small shoulders.

He needn't have worried for when it was his turn to go to Hogwarts a year later the sorting hat had barely touched his head before it yelled Slytherin loudly, and Regulus slept comfortably that evening knowing his parents would be proud. Regulus found a comfortable rhythm at Hogwarts and found his way to the top of several classes, and he found a group of Slytherin friends that he fit in with (much to his brother's dismay). Regulus loved learning and he especially loved magical theory, fascinated by the way things work. When it came time for his career conversation with the head of house, Regulus expressed some interest in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. He wanted to know more about their world and the way things worked.

His family were aligned with the Dark Lord long before Regulus had left Hogwarts, so it was no surprise to him that his mother suggested strongly that he offer himself into the Dark Lord's service. Having fallen in with a crowd of future Death Eaters at Hogwarts, Regulus had found himself admiring the Dark Lord and his magical skill. He took the Dark Mark at age sixteen and when he returned home that evening, he didn't think he'd ever seen more pride shining on his parents faces.

Now, war is ongoing and Regulus is starting to have second thoughts about his allegiances. He sees the torture and mutilation that is happening in the Dark Lord's service, and he's uncertain that he wants to be associated with such blatant cruelty. His uncertainties are kept close to his chest, terrified of what might happen if he ever confessed to his doubts. He wonders if his brother might harbour him if he ever fled the Death Eaters, or if Sirius would turn his back on him forever. He wonders if it's even possible to leave the service of the Dark Lord, or whether his cousin might hunt him down and torture him for his disloyalty. Regulus lies awake most nights pondering the future, and wondering if he made the right call.

As soon as it was evident that Lucius was not going to leave her be, Cassandra set her book down carefully. "That's still a branch of healing, Lucius," she said matter-of-factly, before she offered him a smile. "Congratulations on your impending arrival. How many weeks along is she? Has the first trimester been difficult?"

Lucius had seen the witch and there were a million questions that popped in his head when it came to his wife's pregnancy. He took no hesitation sitting down across from her, leaning back in his chair. "I do not coming to ask about healing. I need to know about pregnancy and what to expect in the second trimester." He loved Narcissa, but her mood swings, he wasn't certain he'd make it to their baby being born.

The brief flash of guilt in Caradoc's eyes that quickly got masked by pain once more made Regulus frown, but he would press for more information on that once he had dealt with the more immediate issues. "You're hurt, that is a big deal," he said, kicking the door closed behind them as soon as Caradoc was in from the cold.

Regulus settled Caradoc onto the couch, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he stood again to look his boyfriend over with an analytical eye. "Don't be daft. I can brew more potions, I can't find another Caradoc," Reg said, his tone stern enough to let Caradoc know that he wouldn't take no for an answer on this. "I think....let's deal with the splinching first, unless you have anything more serious? There's too much blood, I can't tell what's what," he said, rifling through the bottles he'd summoned to find his essence of dittany.

Kneeling before Caradoc, Reg moved the scraps of his trousers aside to get a clear look at the wound. Being unable to go to St Mungos after Death Eater missions had led Regulus to learn some basic healing, but he wasn't sure how much good he'd be here. "It might sting, okay?" he said, pulling the stopper out of the bottle before he dropped two drops of the essence on Caradoc's leg.

And here, the guilt was seeping in. One didn’t have to be a genius to tell that Regulus had been asleep, or at the very least planning to go to bed soon. Here Caradoc was, interrupting and bleeding out. “‘S no biggie,” he mumbled as he leaned against his boyfriend, thankful for the assist. It was only when he was inside that he realized just how cold it had been out there.

“Mission. It went sideways. I was with a couple other Aurors — told them to apparate and get help and I stayed behind . . .” He trailed off, trying to spare Regulus anymore of the details. Plus, he didn’t particularly want to think about it himself.

As they reached the living room, Caradoc let out a sigh of relief and leaned his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “This is enough, Reg. Don’t waste any of your potions on me,” he said, just happy to be here.

Taking Alecto’s lack of argument as her acceptance of his lie, Regulus turned his attention back to the food. Rather than manually plating the food up, Regulus waved his wand and made the utensils do the work for him. “I know, I’ve come to expect silence from you…and yet, you always show up,” he teased, a small smile on his lips. He levitated the two bowls over to the dining table, before grabbing a bottle of pumpkin juice from the fridge. “Mixed…we’re trying to strengthen my ability to use unforgivable. I can’t hold them particularly long. My other magical skill is up to scratch, I feel. I wanted your opinion actually after dinner, I’ve brought two artefacts home from the ministry. I want to know if they perhaps might be of use for our cause. I can duplicate them if so, send the false ones back to the department with a faked magical signature.”

Alecto studied Regulus, taking a moment to see if he was speaking the truth. There was the worry that he would follow after his brother and she would not allow that to happen. "If you say so." The witch had no interest in debating with the young wizard, or simply using her magic to learn the truth. Silent steps moved around the kitchen effortlessly, the pad of her finger running across the surface of the island counter. The thought of cooking herself was insanity, and she was one that danced on that fine line repeatedly. "When have I ever sent an owl back, hmmm?" Both palms splayed across the counter top on the other side. "How is your mentoring going?"

Aaron Taylor-Johnson as James Frey ⤷ A Million Little Pieces | dir. Sam Taylor-Johnson