Taking Affront At Edgar's Upfront Disapproval Of His Upbringing, Regulus Frowned Deeply. His Fingers

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."

Alecto shifted in her position sat in the lounge chair, finding the cushions uncomfortable, yet a stoic expression remained rooted on her features, unwilling to shed any emotion around the beast. The odd concept was, if he was not the beast he was, she was certain the two would get along well enough. They shared a creative insight when it came to methods that intrigued them. "I will, if it's necessary."

"Perhaps you might wish to choose your wording carefully, if you do not like what others might have to say in return." A nonchalant drop of her shoulders. "Are we done with this topic?" Alecto was, and he was wasting her time.

Alecto wished not to physical harm Angus, it would ruin the work that went behind making the alliance and the part that she played, and knew it would upset the Dark Lord. She took mental note of what was being shared, giving a small nod of her head. "I think that will suffice. I do not take kind to be treated like an object." Something she could use against him if he tried to make another move on her, at least now she was married and soon to be a mother, perhaps he'd have a little more respect. "If there is something you need, I shall return the favour."

With a glass of wine in hand, Cassie had largely been lingering at the edges of the party. She was most comfortable with a lack of eyes on her, quite content to sit back and watch everything unfold. "Evening Emma. I dusted off my formal dress for the occasion, instead of my usual healers robes," Cassie said with a smile. "Busier than ever with everything that's going on. People call on me at all hours of the night...it keeps life exciting though, keeps my brain ticking. How are you? I still need to make it to one of your games and see you play for myself."

location: selwyn manor @battle-scvrs (cassie)

Emma was surprised to see Cassandra Borgin at the Selwyn's new years eve party, but as they had not spoken in a while she decided to go over and catch up. She was a good healer, one of the few Emma trusted. As a famous athlete she did not want to go in to see a healer and have things end up in the gossip magazines. "Cassie. You look well. How have you been?"

As his victim hit the ground, a vicious smirk carved itself onto Fenrir's face. While he wanted to relish in the screaming of his victims there would be time for that later once they had extracted their mark. His gaze followed Thorfinn as he crept through the house, and he cast a swift cushioning charm on the ground to prevent too much noise alerting those upstairs. The last thing they needed was their mark apparating away.

Comfortable that the ground floor was now clear, Fenrir began creeping up the stairs. One guard stood in front of a closed door, and there was a brief moment of surprise on his face before another diffindo sliced the man's head cleanly from his shoulders. Casting a glance into two empty rooms, Fenrir gestured towards the last door which was firmly closed. His alohamora bounced off the door, and he turned to see if Thorfinn was following behind him. "The others are all in there. Four against two. We're going to have to blast through the wards."

Thorfinn stood patiently, counting down the seconds in his head before he apparated in with Fenrir. He could feel his fingers itching to get dirty and to cause some pain. This was what he longed for, what he craved, and an outlet he welcomed. The blonde followed behind the other, mask over his face, a smirk underneath at the destruction already in place.

He moved through the cabin, coming around the corner to where another law enforcement appeared. A disarming charm used, following his fellow death eater's way, a silence charm placed to hide the noise and with no warning, the unforgiveable death curse uttered, watching his assailant collapse to the ground. Two down, meant there were four more inside.

Fenrir had warded the woods to prevent any unwanted visitors whilst they worked, wanting to be entirely undisturbed. "Mm...tried to run to the Order, thinking they could save him. He didn't understand that the Order are weak," Fenrir mused, watching Evelyn work. "No loss at all. In fact...I would say that he's a danger to our cause, wouldn't you? And those that are dangerous get dealt with properly," he crooned, crouching to look into the man's eyes before Evelyn rolled him over. "Not even worthy to become a wolf," he trailed his fingernails, sharpened into claws for such an occasion, up the man's arm till he reached the other man's neck which was wet with tears. Digging his nails in until a few beads of blood sprouted, Fenrir scoffed at the man's continuing pleas for forgiveness. "Only God can save you now, but unfortunately, hell has sent us instead."

Standing up straight again, Fenrir took a step back to watch Evelyn's next move. This was why he continued to put up with the Death Eaters and their never ending bullshit. The sheer joy of bringing a man to his knees, tasting true fear and pain and doling out punishments like a God. Throwing an arm around Evelyn's shoulders, Fenrir's own sick smile reflected hers. "I think he has, don't you?" Fenrir said, his tone full of uncharacteristic cheer. He moved towards the man again, rolling him back onto his front. He extended a hand, drawing the man to his feet. "Go on. If you can out run me, I'll let you go. No magic, no tricks. I'll even be nice and give you a ten second head start....so start running. Evelyn, would you be a dear and count us down?”

Who: @battle-scvrs -Fenrir Where: The Woods Outside Fenrir's Home

Evelyn considered the sniveling man on the ground between the two of them with a look of distaste. She so did enjoy the screams of pain, but must he make it so easy? "This is the deserter then?" Her voice held a note of disbelief as they traveled from the man whimpering on the ground up to Fenrir. "Certainly no loss then." She snorted, using her foot to force the man to roll onto his back. If he was so quick to crumble, to beg for forgiveness, then they were surely better off without him. He would have been a waste of a death eater, and fell apart after the first interrogation.

Still it felt good to be bad to business, she had plenty of built up energy, she only hoped that this lasted long enough for her to release it all. She tapped her wand gently against her side as she considered him, before a muttered crucio slipped free from her lips. Her lips curling up into delight as he screamed and curled in on himself. Just as quickly as it was over, the man once more panting and whimpering on the ground as he begged for them to stop. She sidled up beside Fenrir, a devious smile playing on her lips. "What do you think then handsome? Has he learned his lesson?" She was teasing at this point. She knew they were no where near done, and she was looking forward to watching Fenrir work. There was something enthralling about seeing him get violent, letting his nature take over.

Regulus' desire to go unnoticed as he went about his shopping died as he turned to face James Potter fully, his lip curling slightly in displeasure. If it wasn't enough to see his brother recently for the first time in a long time, now he was face to face with Potter. "Merlin," he mumbled under his breath, staring at James before he abruptly turned back to face the shelf. "You can fuck off actually, I'll be browsing for a while. Many important potions to brew, many ingredients to buy...I'm sure you understand. They may be able to assist you at the desk," Regulus said shortly, his stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes aimlessly searched the bottles, every single ingredient he'd come to buy suddenly leaving his head. He hated how flustered he got around Potter, still. James Potter did not deserve such emotion from Regulus, and yet...somehow he still managed to get under Reg's skin.

Something seemed to happen between the end of November and the beginning of December that made everybody want to spend their evenings between various shops in Diagon Alley. James didn't mind much – he loved crowds. In good spirits, he made his way to the apothecary to pick up some ingredients for a potion he was planning on brewing (or, rather, planning on asking someone else politely to brew) for his father, who was feeling a bit under the weather. When he heard who was in front of him, James stopped in his tracks. Fuck. "Yeah, okay. No worries. I'll... wait," he said dumbly.

@battle-scvrs

Regulus had received Bellatrix's invitation to tea with a certain degree of dread. He cared for his cousin, he truly did, but it could not be denied that the eldest Black was intense. In his heart of hearts, Regulus knew she wanted the best for him...but the way in which she went about it exhausted him, and now as he grew ever more conflicted the last thing he needed was for his cousin to sit and pry, or to diminish his magical ability. Still, an invitation to Bellatrix's home was not one that could be ignored - and at the end of the day, Regulus desperately ached to make someone proud of him and he did care for his cousin, even if she mildly terrified him sometimes.

As soon as Regulus set foot on Lestrange soil, he took a moment to ensure that his mental walls of occlumency were firmly in place before he approached the parlour. He didn't trust Bellatrix not to quietly probe his mind as they shared tea, and he had too much to protect to risk her catching wind of his thoughts. He shot a tight smile back, crossing the room to take the offered seat.

"Afternoon, Bella," he reached for the cup of tea, letting the scolding heat of the cup centre him. "I avoid everyone, cousin. I wouldn't take it personally," he said, grateful for his historic grumpiness to fall back on. Whenever he visited Bella in her home, he was struck by how much she fit here as a proper pureblooded lady, and how meagre his small terraced house seemed in comparison. "Mm...your ability with the dark arts is second only to the Dark Lord himself, I know you could teach me better than Rabastan," he said, offering her some flattery in the hopes that it would soothe whatever was coming next. "It would be quite rude of me to abandon Rabastan's dutiful teaching when we have gotten this far...I was improving recently," he said, though he grimaced remembering the panic attack he'd experienced out on the field. Thank Merlin he was masked, and Rabastan hadn't seen the true panic he'd been experiencing. "Rabastan is a perfectly adequate tutor."

Starter for: Regulus Black @battle-scvrs Where: Bellatrix & Rodolphus's home (a smaller manor on the Lestrange Estate) When: lunchtime

It was hardly Bellatrix's style to be domesticated. Yet she'd invited her youngest cousin for tea, knowing it was his favourite beverage. She'd given him more than enough space by now, to the point where the physical distance was beginning to make her itch. She was an intensely emotional witch. Though calculating and meticulous when it mattered, she was driven by passion - and at present, her passion lay with ensuring that Regulus was well. She did care. It was a skewed, obsessive sort of adoration, but it was genuine nonetheless and she would stop at nothing to ensure his wellbeing.

Once he joined her in the parlour, she looked up over the top of a copy of the Daily Prophet, the headline boasting a particularly wonderful depiction of the Dark Mark floating over muggle London. Paused with momentarily shrewd study, her eyes glittered over his appearance. Then she neatly folded the paper and smiled, patting the seat next to her in invitation.

"Hello, cousin." Glancing sideways, she slid the paper onto the table and reached for the teapot, her length of raven hair obscuring her features before she looked back up with dark petulance. "I got bored of you avoiding me, so here we are." Handing him a cup of tea, she then poured one for herself and sat back. Crossing one leg over the other, she looked very much like 'lady of the manor'. It lasted all but a few seconds before her eyes narrowed. "Why must you spend so much time with Rabastan? You know I would teach you far more and take you further than he ever will." Was she jealous? Absolutely. Grateful? To her chagrin, also true. As much as she loathed to acknowledge, it was convenient that her brother-in-law had taken the boy under his wing. She'd been alarmed to hear about his little blip during a recently incident - freezing while being attacked, indeed. Rabastan had been diplomatic when updating her, but she was not an idiot. She saw that Rabastan was trying to keep secrets from her. It wouldn't do.

Kingsley looked at his friend with a curious eye, wondering exactly what Edgar had been doing that day. "I'd like to tell you that you look wonderful, but my mother raised me not to tell lies," he smirked, knowing that the next time he came back from a mission bedraggled that Edgar would rake him over the coals. "Feels like each day is getting a little tougher, it's no wonder the bars are getting busier," he mused, his tone taking a more serious turn. "Ros is going to be raking it in."

Given the way their head auror had been badgering Kingsley for weeks to get his pile of paperwork sorted, he figured that they would be forgiving that Kings had disappeared half an hour early. Kingsley kept taking the night shifts anyways, he was due a little good grace. "Isn't it always?" he rolled his eyes fondly. His body language shifted at the mention of Sade, shoulders tightening and his easy-going expression morphing into one of concern. "She's....fine. You know what she wants, but I can't say I'm pleased about it. I'm worried for her, but equally, I won't stop her if that's what she decides. I've made my concerns known. We're both blood traitors, it's not like we're safe anyway...I just don't want her to put herself, or Jasper, at any unnecessary risk."

Edgar let out a chuckle, fingers combing through his hair, shaking his head. "I think I look the same I feel." He was looking forward to heading home after a drink to take a long shower. He had a few more days before Hestia would be moving in with him and he was trying not to have any regrets about it. This was the best for the both of them.

He knew they had a little more time before they should leave, but considering the amount of overtime he had put in recently, there should be no issue. "You won't hear me protesting." Both hands push into the armrests of the chair to stand up. "First round is on you though," the grins, heading towards the front door of their department. "How is your sister doing?" He knew Sade had asked for more involvement with the Order and wanted to talk to Kings about it.

Reg shot Caradoc a disapproving look, reaching for his wand with his free hand. Under his breath he muttered the few basic diagnostic spells he knew, checking him over for his own peace of mind. "You should make sure you're checked out properly, especially when you're messing with curses. I'm no healer, but I think you're okay," he said, setting his wand back down on the side before he leaned over to press a kiss to Caradoc's temple.

Leaving the ball in Caradoc's court was making Regulus feel a little sick as he waited for a response, but he knew it was necessary. If it was too much, he didn't want to burden Caradoc with knowledge that may put him in further danger. He didn't want to lose Caradoc, who had become so dear to him so quickly, but he would rather lose him than put him at unnecessary risk if the other man wasn't willing. As Caradoc confirmed that he was all in, Reg took his hand, tangling their fingers tightly. "Thank you," he whispered gratefully.

"I'm not really sure where to start. Over the last few months, but particularly the last few weeks, I've grown more and more uncomfortable with my position in the war. I've kept it glamoured whenever I've seen you, but....well, it speaks for itself," Regulus brought their joined hands to his sleeve, drawing it back to reveal his Dark Mark. "I've been marked since I was sixteen. It's what was expected of me, especially when Sirius left. They got me in front of the Dark Lord as soon as they could, to establish me as a proper pureblood. But I have to admit....I've never been much good at it, and recently I've got so much worse. I was questioning things, questioning everything I've grown up believing."

"I guess I've always ached to be good enough, but I was trying to be good enough for the wrong people."

Caradoc closed his eyes for a moment, comforted by Regulus’s hand running through his hair. “Umm, I checked my head?” He said, knowing that that probably wasn’t the answer that Regulus was hoping for. He shrugged. He’d taken a potion to dull the pain, so that was good enough for him. It wasn’t supposed to wear off for about another hour.

He got more serious as Regulus continued to talk. He couldn’t lie, the words “life-threatening risk” did little to keep him calm. Caradoc tried to remind himself that technically, every Order member and every Ministry mission did put his life in jeopardy, so it wasn’t that different . . . Right? But, Caradoc had seen what Death Eaters had done to wizards who disagreed with them. He’d seen what they’d done to muggle-borns and muggles.

But this was what war was — taking risks. And Caradoc trusted Regulus. He trusted that deep down, Regulus didn’t align with his family’s twisted beliefs. He trusted that Regulus wanted a different life, hopefully a life they could build together.

“I don’t want out,” he said resolutely. “And I’m good at keeping secrets. You can tell me.”

It was shameful, truly, that they'd had to go through such loops to meet up as brothers. To meet in a room booked under another man's name, under heavy warding, and even then to be so suspicious of each other than they couldn't even sit down casually. He knew that Sirius' air of nonchalance was a mask, and he wasn't sure that his brother would ever trust him fully again. Their relationship was broken, potentially beyond repair, but Regulus wanted to at least try. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

Nodding slowly at Sirius words, Regulus swallowed back a lump of emotion in his throat. The words he had practiced were gone as he stared at his brother, fearing that if he fucked this up that he would be lost to him forever. "It won't come as a surprise to you that our parents marched me in front of the Dark Lord as early as they could. They didn't want to risk it. And I wanted to do the right thing, to make them proud. That's all I've ever wanted. To be a good son, to be a good brother. You were gone, so they were all I had left," he said, his gaze falling. "But I was awful at it all. I was having lessons to teach me to be better. For all intents and purposes, there was nothing stopping me. My magic is strong, I have an iron-clad will like a true Black, and I had an outstanding teacher. I could have been like Bellatrix, I know I could. But I had a mental block that was preventing me from casting truly dark magic, because in my heart I knew it was wrong. I knew it. And I can't live like that any more. I can't fight for their cause."

Regulus lifted his gaze, his eyes fixed intently on Sirius. "I'm not sure I believe in your Order. I'm not sure they have a chance at all. But I'm hoping that by providing them with information, it will give the Order an edge. A way in. He's just a man....a very powerful man, but he's just a man. The regime has to be undermined, the Death Eaters...some of them just seek power. If we can prompt some in-fighting, along with disrupting raids and attacks...I don't know, maybe it's a chance." He paused for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets to disguise the shake. "I know this doesn't fix anything. I don't expect you to trust me, I don't expect anything from you. I know you have your own life, and I know there's no place in it for me any more. I'm not asking for anything at all. But I wanted you to hear it from me."

Sirius put his hands casually in his pocket, his hand fingering his wand in his pocket. While he leaned against the door, looking every bit the part of a bored and unbothered man, he was alert. He leaned against the door so he could hear everything on the other side, his hand in his pocket so he could whip his wand out at a moment's notice. Some part of him - the part that had been working with the Order for years - thought this might be an ambush. It would be just his look to speak to his brother for the first time in years and end up killed because of it a few days later. He still came though, because despite the estranged years between them he just couldn't believe Regulus would do that to him. He hoped as much anyway.

His face was set, unreadable - a skill they had both learned from all their years in the Black family manor. "Edgar told me something alright," Sirius said with an unamused laugh. "But I want to hear what you have to say." Double agent. Yeah right. Sirius had it in his mind to tell Dumbledore he should keep an eye on Edgar, not entirely sure someone wasn't doing an Unforgivable on him if he was so easily convinced of something so stupid. All that had been proved to Sirius so far was that he was right to think Regulus had followed in Bellatrix's footsteps; the two of them doing the Black family proud as they traipsed after Voldemort.