Since Meeting With Edgar, Regulus Had Been On Edge. He'd Been Half Expecting The Man To Either Turn Around

Edgar remaining seated was an indication that all of the power lay with him at the moment, while Regulus stood before him like a naughty child. Still, he would not sit - it was far too casual while he was being questioned on such matters. He stared down at Edgar, his jaw set firmly as he considered the man's words. Clearly, they did believe they had enough evidence to link the heirloom and it's recent use to Regulus, otherwise he wouldn't be called back.

But if that were the case, why was he here instead of simply being arrested and carted off to Azkaban?

"Mr Bones, I appreciate that you yourself have not been raised with strict, ancient family values. I know what is required of me, and that has shaped who I am. My words, and what is required by my parents, are one and the same. There used to be two boys to share the burden between our demanding parents, now there is only one...I manage as I must," Regulus said, his tone sharp. Those who had been raised outside of a Sacred Twenty-Eight upbringing could never hope to understand the demands and pressures that their parents put on them. "I'm not sure what my conscience has to do with this, Mr Bones," he said, though his eyebrows furrowed as Edgar mentioned his internal conflict that had grown so loud he could almost hear it roaring in his ears.

Staring silently at the photo of himself and Sirius, Regulus shook his head. "Sirius made his choice. He chose his friends, and he left me behind...he left me. He knew what our parents would do to me, and he left me anyway. He left me to rot," he said bitterly, though he reached for the photograph anyway. "Your idea of family, and my own idea of family, they differ. I have nobody, Mr Bones. I am alone in this world - and if I wanted to run to Sirius, I couldn't. I don't know where my own brother lives."

Frowning once again at Edgar's offer, Regulus paused. He'd been gearing up to leave, but the offer seemed genuine. There was another beat of silence, before Regulus finally took a seat. In a very quiet voice, he asked "what protection could you offer me against the Dark Lord? People do not simply leave the service of the Dark Lord. They serve, or they die. How can you guarantee protection, and safety?"

"And what would you ask in return? I take it this offer is not from the kindness of your heart."

"Stand if you must." Edgar did not care too much for what the boy did, there were more pressing matters at hand and he knew this situation had to be dealt with in a certain manner to work in their favour. He remained seated in his chair, hands clasped together in front of him.

Being meant with resistant was expected and he could appreciate how hard it appeared family ties were instilled in the boy, but that also would also aid his words. No matter how dire Regulus wished to keep his composure, there was always a truth written within the eyes.

"Were those your words, or words required of you?" A beat. "At times it can feel hard to free oneself of shackles so tightly encompassed around us. The weight of our conscience a constant struggle on what is right or wrong." Edgar leans back in his chair. "I see the conflict in your eyes Regulus." He was throwing all his cards out on the desk.

"Family doesn't force you to believe in what they want you to. A real family, they accept you for who you are." He pulled out a picture from underneath the one, a smaller one, of two boys together, one he had brought to him. "You have a brother who would accept you for who you are."

Edgar went to stand up, hands resting on top of the desk. "If you have nothing more to share, then I will not hold you." A pause. "But what I can offer you, if you decide to do the right thing, is protection outside of these walls, not within the ministry." Half of the people he didn't trust. "And I have a feeling you know what I mean."

No matter how hard he tried, Regulus knew that he was a disappointment. He knew that his parents wished that Sirius was still here over Regulus, because he was the stronger of the two boys. He knew that Bellatrix believed Sirius would have made a better Death Eater, and privately, he agreed. The further they got into this war, the more obvious it was becoming to Regulus that this was not the right path for him. Torture turned his stomach, he couldn't cast a strong unforgivable to save his life, and Regulus didn't dare to think about his changing opinions on blood purity in Bellatrix's presence. Even with his occlumency firmly in place, Regulus didn't dare to think even a single thought about Caradoc Dearborn. He had a sinking feeling that whatever Bellatrix had called him here for could not be good, and it was not merely a friendly catch up.

Holding his cup tightly in his hands, Regulus was about to lift the drink to his lips when Bella dropped her spoon and he flinched again. Trying to brush it off, Regulus leaned back into his chair with a practiced air of casual nonchalance. He was, after all, a pureblood. He had been acting his whole life, and though Bellatrix had keen eyes and an iron-clad will, Regulus would not let his cousin trip him up.

"He is more than adequate, he is great. You are the best, and I know you are - you and I both know that. But you are too important to the cause to busy yourself with my inability to cast lasting unforgivables. Let Rabastan deal with that, while you honour the Dark Lord," he said, playing on Bella's absolute devotion. He held her gaze firmly, not wanting to shy away from it no matter the fact he felt she may be piercing into his very soul. "Cousin, I cannot ask that of you," he protested again, before Bellatrix revealed the true reason for her owl. "Ah, so you and Rabastan have been gossiping about me," he said, his tone holding a hint of fury. "That was supposed to be private. It was fine, Rab dealt with it. They didn't even come close to hitting me, because the Order are shit. They are unruly and undisciplined, they have no hope," he said, setting the cup of tea down so firmly that some splashed over the side onto the saucer. "Whether or not I die is nothing to do with you, Bella. You have done your best, but I need you to respect my wishes. I do not want you to teach me." He didn't have the stomach for whatever Bellatrix's teaching would look like, and he knew it. "I appreciate the offer, I do. Truly."

A little fear did wonders - in everyone, not just her enemies. Friends and family were treated equally to her charming personality, though they benefitted from her loyalty and never-ceasing protection, as smothering as it could sometimes be. These days, Bellatrix was acutely aware of the effect she had on those dearest to her. She was fuelled by a desperation to bind them to herself, outraged by both Sirius and Andromeda and the hurt they had ripped through the Black family - through her. So she clung to Cissy and Regulus, trying her hardest to make their lives both worthwhile and worthy. Yet she knew that this approach was not always welcome, and that it had pushed Regulus elsewhere. She was truly and wholeheartedly trying to temper her behaviour. But it was not easy to moderate Bellatrix Lestrange. The witch was too unruly even for herself.

Scoffing at his statement on avoidance, she dropped a few sugar lumps into her cup and stirred it. The spoon swished silently, avoiding the delicate china surround with fine-tuned accuracy. Then it clattered down onto the saucer, undoing all of her careful attention to avoiding jarring noises - speaking of which, while she would ordinarily and happily have soaked up compliments, in this instance she saw right through them. So she raised her cup to her lips and took an indulgent gulp, her eyes remaining centred on him all the while. She did not miss his grimace.

"You deserve more than 'adequate', Regulus. You are the last of the Black heirs. You deserve the best." Her stare was truly like a pair of daggers, sharpened and primed to carve her message home. Sirius was a waste of space and she would not permit Regulus to become the same. He would be great, even if she had to drag him through fire and brimstone to get him there herself. And oh, how she hated Sirius for bringing this fate into Regulus's life. Sirius should have been the Death Eater. She was not a fool - she knew Regulus was not truly suited to it. But it was now his duty and he must fulfil it. They all had duties. He was not exempt. "I will help you. You cannot freeze during battles, cousin. You could have been killed. If that had happened-" She paused, hesitating over her words in the most uncharacteristic manner. Then she continued, practically slicing the words across her tongue, reluctant to express their truthful sentimentality. "I would never have forgiven myself."

Kingsley had been out on investigation work when he'd received an urgent summons to a sleepy muggle village in the Yorkshire Dales that was now the site of a major crime scene. "The obliviators have been called," finished off the message, and with a sigh Kingsley abandoned the trail he'd been following and apparated to just outside of the village. The Dark Mark was high in the sky and must have been visible for miles, which led to a countless number of muggles who's memories needed wiping - never mind the victims of whatever Death Eater had decided to use unknowing muggles as their playthings.

Moving through the carnage, Kingsley joined in the bustling groups of ministry workers who were slowly lowering the floating muggles. He joined in the work of getting the muggles down, but whilst he did so he quickly and harmlessly used legilimency to see if the Death Eater at fault happened to be unmasked in any of their confused memories. It wasn't something he would do on a magical being, but if he interviewed any of these muggles all he would get back was confusion and nonsense. Sometimes, needs must.

Just as he raised his wand to return another muggle back to the ground, a shrill voice broke his concentration and Kingsley drew a sharp breath. "Lestrange...always a pleasure," he said, not shying away from her closeness. He would not be intimidated by this woman. "Oh, and they were so inappropriate...you can't blame me for continuing to hold those against you now, can you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "As the auror in charge here, I must insist that if you are questioning any muggles that I am present...just to ensure good practice is being followed," he said, a firmness in his tone that confirmed he would not be swayed. "This is an active auror investigation, and certain processes must be followed especially where muggles are involved. I'm sure you understand, you're a reasonable woman."

Starter for: Kingsley Shacklebolt @battle-scvrs Where: a Muggle village, attended by Aurors and the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes When: the middle of the day

As a Senior Minister, Bellatrix did not have to go out on active duties these days. But sometimes she inserted herself into the opportunity like a silver dagger slashing pretty pink flesh; wilfully and dishonourably.

So here she stood, the picture of elegance at a scene of terrible magical disarray. Muggles were floating around like inflated toys, caught in trees and windows and Merlin knew what else. Frankly, she couldn't care less. But her employer did care - and so did the Dark Lord. Aurors had been summoned, for her department had suspected foul play at the hands of Death Eaters.

The Dark Mark shining over the village post office did also slightly give the game away. That wasn't supposed to be there. Bellatrix now stood before it, a look of utter fury ripping her expression in two as she stared up at it and wondered which of her idiot allies had been so stupid to forget the most basic of commands. Eyes expanding in the sallow green haze, her hair whipped around her like streaming black ribbons, nails clenching into the palms of her hands. She was here to make this incident disappear from the Ministry's radar, but the Dark Mark made that work impossible.

Turning away, she headed forcefully towards the village square. She would rip the culprit's identify from one of these vile muggles' minds. That was the only thought in her head, until her sight fell upon Kingsley Shacklebolt and she smiled a smile of avaricious yearning.

"Hello Kingsley, my old friend." Stepping beside him, she stood too close for comfort and delicately brushed some non-existent dust from his cloak. Her eyes lingered on his midriff, where she knew he must harbour a sumptuous scar slashed by her own wand. Oh, how she'd love to see it.... Lips twitching with the involuntarily thirst for it, she pressed them into a curve and looked up into his expression. "You don't still hold a grudge against me, do you? For those inappropriate conversations at Hogwarts?" With a tsk, she stepped back and waved her fingers towards the Dark Mark. True anger filled her expression once more and she channelled the emotion into a new purpose. "Whoever is responsible for that must be caught and punished. You will have your perpetrator when I've finished questioning these muggles."

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."

Glancing around, Regulus was checking to see that there was nobody nearby that would report on this conversation. The last thing that Regulus needed on his plate were reports that he’d been speaking to a blood traitor that had been dishonourably disowned in broad daylight, and yet his feet refused to move. He knew the right thing to do, and yet he just couldn’t do it. It was weakness, he had always been weak despite Bellatix’s attempts to force the weakness out of him. ‘He’s spineless’, his parents had whispered when they thought Regulus couldn’t hear it. He didn’t need to hear everyone else’s relentless disappointment in him to know that something was wrong with him. He wasn’t like Sirius or Andromeda, but he wasn’t like Bellatrix or Narcissa either. He was weak. Once Andromeda nodded her approval, Regulus pulled the paper bag out of his pocket and gingerly handed a sugar quill to Dora. “These are my favourite,” he whispered, half conspiratorially and half from sheer terror that someone would see him.

 Frowning at his cousin as he shoved his hands back into his pockets, Regulus stayed stubbornly silent at Andromeda’s rebuttal. After all, what could he say? He knew he shouldn’t be stood here offering sweets to his niece and making small talk. “You made your choice, Andromeda,” was all he could offer. Watching Dora’s hair change to match Sirius’ messy locks sent a pang of hurt through Regulus chest, and he had to drag his eyes away to look at Andromeda instead. “I’m…glad he sees you still. I bet it’s good for him,” Regulus choked out, his brows furrowed. “Getting by,” he paused, wondering how much of himself to offer to a cousin that he never saw. “I work for the ministry now. It’s good work, honest work…I love it. How are you? And…Ted.”

If Andromeda had been an outsider to this sight, she likely would have found it amusing. Both of them so unsure of the other, unsure how to react or handle the situation. She was on edge, prepared to bolt with Dora if that was what the situation called for. She could handle the dirty looks and words of harassment, but she’d be damned if her daughter had to deal with such venom. She hesitated as he offered a sugar quill for Dora, but softened at the way her daughter’s eyes brightened at the mention. A peace offering? Her eyes locked with Regulus and finally after a moment she nodded, smiling softly down at Dora. “Go on then, just one so you don’t ruin your dinner.”

The moment Dora had her hands on the sweet treat she was distracted, perhaps for the best as she straightened and turned her attention back on Regulus. “Well everyone has done a magnificent job of avoiding me as best they can. After all, I don’t exist anymore. No better than the dirt on the ground, yes?” She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice, she missed her family, an integral part of her that felt like living with half her heart missing. At the mention of Sirius, Dora perked up. “Uncle Sirius?!” The green hair immediately replaced with a dark mess of hair as Dora got excited. Suddenly the girl looked so like Sirius and looking between the two, so much like Regulus as well. “He’s not here Dora.” She pointed out, taking a moment to brush the mess of hair back from her face. Andromeda straightened once more and offered Regulus a small smile. “We do. Dora is rather fond of him, but then again he lets her get up to all sorts of trouble. It’s frightening how similar to him she can be.” A beat of silence. “How are you?”

" i know i will be dead long before you read this but i want you to know that it was i who discovered your secret. "

—REGULUS A. BLACK

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."

Reg's shoulders tensed at Alecto's expression, almost curling in on himself to prepare for the agony that he felt was incoming. It wouldn't be the first time someone he liked and trusted had used the cruciatus on him, nor would it be the last. The pain didn't come though, and slowly the tension left his muscles. Nodding at her word of caution, Reg shot her a small grin - one of fondness, not of teasing. "Lesson learned. Don't poke the bear."

"I think if you were to turn me into some sort of other creature that might please my parents more than the person I am currently," he muttered, bitterness seeping into his tone. "I wouldn't mind tea if the elves can prepare a pot."

Her eyes narrow at him when he starts to mimic knitting, tempted to send a wave of pain throughout his body in warning, letting the thought fade when he lifted his hands up in surrender. He was family in a sense and wished to keep the little of the Black's that were left, close. "I am going to let you speak, be wise what you say." Her hand waves to remove the spell.

"I am not in the mood for trying my patience. Let's have a visit that won't have you turned into a vile creature." That was pregnant Alecto being nice. "Did you wish for something to drink?"

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, Become so tired, so much more aware. I'm becoming this, all I want to do, Is be more like me and be less like you.

@battle-scvrs

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.