As An Unspeakable, Reg Couldn't Talk About His Work With Non-unspeakables, And There Were Spells He'd

"Hey, look at me," Reg's voice was gentle as he reached to put his hand on Caradoc's cheek, stroking his thumb across his cheekbones. "Being interrogated may put your life in danger if they find out about us, so we need to prevent that. I will fight with you. Don't feel guilt about that, please...this is my choice. I knew the risks when I realised we were on opposing sides and we carried on anyways, and I know the risks even more now that I'm defecting. I might be a pretty poor Death Eater, but I can still hold my own in a fight. I don't want you worrying about me, or feeling guilty. We'll do this together, okay?" Reg said, knowing that Caradoc would continue to feel guilt but hoping to offset it somehow. He just hoped that Caradoc still felt their relationship was worth the added risk.

Shifting up onto the couch, Reg cast another quick diagnostic spell to ensure he hadn't missed anything drastic before he set his wand down on the side. He tucked his feet underneath himself, leaning his head gingerly against Caradoc's shoulder. "It's so strange to me that your parents have chosen ignorance over all of this. That they would rather be blind to the war, than take precautions. Muggle behaviours are....odd."

Caradoc squeezed his eyes shut. If Regulus’ cover was blown because of him . . . He could already feel the waves of guilt hitting him. That was more painful than any injury inflicted on him could be. “Only if you must. Only if my life is in danger. If it’s anything else, you need to stay with your cover. I can handle being hurt by them, or being interrogated. What I cannot handle is you suffering in an effort to save me.”

He opened his eyes again, grasping his boyfriend’s hands. There were probably a couple more healing spells he needed, but they could wait. He just wanted to spend time with Regulus and relax. Caradoc patted the space next to him. “Please?” He said. “I don’t want to think about the mission anymore.” Caradoc sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “Merlin, if my parents knew . . .” He laughed out loud. “I cannot imagine what they’d think.”

Scrunching his nose up with distaste at Sirius, Regulus fought the childish urge to find the nearest object that he could throw in his brother's direction. "Ooh, good one," he repeated, his tone mocking. "Oh, I've spent plenty of time listening to mother insulting others, and plenty of time on the receiving end of it too. Look at you, the family disappointment...and yet I still cannot live up to what you could have been," Regulus said bitterly. "I'm fairly certain my hearing will never quite be the same than it was before her tone got even shriller than when we were children. She still sends howlers in place of regular letters," he'd received one just that morning, asking him to drop round for tea after work. He crossed his arms, glancing at the closed door that they were waiting before. "Are the aurors always this bloody slow?" He muttered grumpily, not wanting to spend too much time in Sirius' company. Sirius had left him, and Regulus had grown up in the shadow of that loss. Years ago, he might have begged Sirius to love him, to take him with him and hide him away from the rest of their family. Now, he knew that was simply a childish delusion, no matter how much that hurt.

"Of course you did," Reg said with exasperation. He should've expected nothing less. "You should see your place on the tapestry...I'm surprised she didn't burn the whole bloody house down, never mind your face. What a gift you are to her," his gaze hit the floor and he scrunched his nose. Hearing that Sirius had thought about changing his name had hit him more than he thought it would, and it further demonstrated the distance between the two brothers. "Course you don't. I don't know why they even bothered calling you here."

"Ooh good one," Sirius remarked, rolling his eyes at Regulus's retort. "I at least thought you'd have gotten better at insults since I last saw you but apparently not," he sighed as if disappointed. "Why don't you ask mother dearest for help insulting others. She excels at it," he said with a grin. "Avoid her volume though, people tend to stop listening once you start screaming," he advised seriously. Truthfully, teasing and antagonising his brother was just a lot easier than letting his guard down. He didn't know what Regulus's opinion was of him anymore, but from the whispers and rumours he heard it was far from good. And it wasn't as if Regulus had ever bothered to talk to Sirius after he left; not even replying to the countless letters he had sent.

"I debated it," he sighed, shaking his head. "But why would I deny mother the pleasure of something to give out about for the rest of her life?" He shrugged. "I'm just thoughtful, I guess." Sirius would have loved to have been a Potter - and was constantly told he was for all intents and purposes - but he was never going to change his name, quite proud to be the literal Black Sheep of the family. He felt a twinge of hurt something when Regulus first said 'me' instead of 'us' but ignored it, telling himself it was just a slip of the tongue. "Whatever we're here for," he started, glancing back at Regulus casually, "you can take it. I don't want it." He didn't need any reminders of what his life used to be. He left it behind for a reason.

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."

Being an auror meant working unusual and irregular hours and days, and Kingsley wouldn’t change it for a thing. Much of his spare time was now filled with Order business, but he was determined that at least once a week he would try and see his sister and his nephew. The war was important, but not so important that he would toss his family aside for it. His battle injury that had left him near to death had solidified that importance – and it was that injury that made him so scared of Sade increasing her involvement. Kingsley had never truly struggled for words, but he wasn’t sure how to express to his sister how scared he was of losing her to the Death Eaters. And what would happen to Jasper without his mother?

Shooting his sister a sheepish smile at her surprise, Kingsley threw himself down onto the couch with a heavy sigh. “I’ll knock more than once next time, sorry. I probably should’ve sent an owl too,” he said, kicking his shoes off to make himself comfortable. “Not so urgent that I can’t wait for the kettle. I’d be glad of a cup of tea, I don’t mind making it if you want to stay sat down.”

A long day rounded up with a seamless bedtime for Jasper and a cup of tea had become the norm for Sade in recent months. While other twenty-seven year olds were thankful for a wild night, Sade's evenings were made with a book and a warm beverage. Evidently, her intention to be a bit more independent as Jasper grew had faltered slightly, but Sade wouldn't change it for the world. Sade was just about to embark on a new chapter, to engrossed in her book to notice a brief knock at the door. Sade jumped slightly in surprise as her brother made his way into her living room.

"Merlin, Kings." Sade exclaimed in surprise, although her tone remained quiet. "Unexpected visits are always welcome, but perhaps a louder knock next time." She teased, setting her book down on her coffee table. "Too urgent for a cup of tea? Or can it wait until the kettle brews?"

“It’s not easy making a name for yourself, where do I draw the line? I never thought I'd be in this far.”

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Cassandra Joanne Borgin NICKNAMES: Cass, Cassie. AGE: 29 GENDER: Cis Female PRONOUNS: She/Her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Joanne Borgin FATHER: Henry Borgin SIBLINGS: Abigail Borgin, Nicholas Borgin (Death Eater).

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Jodie Comer BUILD: Slim, but muscled. HAIR COLOR: Dirty blonde. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: Freckles on her cheeks, calluses on her fingers and some faded scarring on her wrists from potions accidents. SCENT: Usually sterile whilst working due to cleansing charms, otherwise Cassandra usually smells faintly floral. ACCENT: Strong yorkshire accent ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Cassandra is often found in healers robes, but otherwise wears a mix of casual dresses or shirts and trousers. Occasionally she will dress up formally. NERVOUS TICS: Biting down on her lower lip

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Semi-detached house in Godric's Hollow. BORN:  Outskirts of Leeds, Yorkshire. RAISED:  Outskirts of Leeds, Yorkshire. PETS: A small black cat called Jinx.

CAREER: Healer EMPLOYER: Private healer, with some occasional on call shifts at St Mungos where the healers become overwhelmed after battles. POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Neutral.

DRUGS: Occasionally to wind down after a long shift. SMOKES: Only when drunk. ALCOHOL: Cassandra is very fond of a glass of wine, but she is also known to wash away a long and difficult day with a glass of vodka tonic. DIET: Vegetarian.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Gobbledegook, Runic Magic.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The Yorkshire dales. SPORTS TEAM: Appleby Arrows GAME: Exploding Snap FOOD: A hearty vegetable dhal with rice and naan. BEVERAGE: Strong Italian coffee, or a glass of red wine. COLOR: Purple.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Ravenclaw. BLOOD PURITY: Pure-blooded WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 10 and a quarter inches, Willow wood, Dragon Heartstring core, springy. AMORTENTIA: Bakewell tart, dusty shelves, dragonhide gloves, morning dew. PATRONUS: Cassandra is unable to produce a patronus. BOGGART: (to be decided)

Bio:

Cassandra Borgin was born as the second child to Joanne and Henry Borgin. Henry is the co-owner of a magical antiques and artefacts shop located on Knockturn Alley, and has carefully maintained an air of neutrality his whole life despite his career as a dealer of dark artefacts. As a child Cassandra remembers her father putting protective spells over her hands so that she could spend her days in the store with him and not risk accidentally touching, though she was usually hidden at the back of the store with her nose in a book. Cassandra's older brother Nicholas was fiercely protective of his sister, and that protectiveness only grew as their youngest sibling arrived when Cassandra was six.

As she spent much of her time surrounded by dark artefacts, Cassandra found herself wanting to curiously take them apart and figure out how things worked. Her father caught her on more than one occasion pulling apart a dangerous artefact with her hands, and no amount of warning against it would quell Cassandra's curious mind. Eventually, Joanne put her foot down and said that Cassie wouldn't be allowed to go to the store any more otherwise she was at risk of killing herself and anyone else in the store at the time. Little Cassie didn't understand why she was being punished for her curiosity - she just wanted to understand how the world worked, and what her papa's work involved.

Seeing that her daughter had an inquisitive mind, Joanne spent a lot of time taking Cassandra to the magical libraries. She quickly moved on from childish books like Babbity Rabbity to Hogwarts textbooks, and by the time Cassandra came of age to attend Hogwarts she had already read all of both first and second years text books, along with additional material. Her interest in taking things apart and understanding how they worked had led to Cassie spending time with her mother brewing potions, and practicing wand motions long before she had her own.

Her older brother had been at Hogwarts before herself and had been sorted into Slytherin, and the family expectation was that Cassandra would continue the tradition. She'd barely had a moment to think when the sorting hat touched her head as it shouted 'Ravenclaw' loudly, and she stumbled in surprise towards the Ravenclaw table. Within Ravenclaw house, she found kinship. As much as her mother wanted to foster her education, they couldn't hold conversations the way that other Ravenclaws did in the common room. While she had been apprehensive initially, Cassandra quickly came to love her house. School itself was a breeze, with Cassie regularly coming top in her classes.

When it came time to pick her OWLs and then her NEWTS, Cassie's original interest in taking things apart and putting them back together seemed to win out as she was drawn towards a healing path. Whilst taking apart dark artefacts was interesting, Cassie was fascinated by the way the human body worked and how different spells and curses could affect the inner workings of the body. She wanted to be different than the rest of her family who seemed content to continue the family legacy of artefact dealing, she wanted to carve her own place in the world and make her own legacy.

Her high grades were more than enough to get onto the St Mungos training course, but Henry and Joanne deemed the St Mungos course too poor for their daughter. Henry had built up a small fortune over the years via the antiques shop, never mind his illicit dealings of forbidden creatures and potions ingredients, and they used some of that money to send Cassie abroad to learn - firstly to France, then for further study in Spain. Whilst studying, there was a heavy focus on the healing qualities of potions and Cassie is now fully adept at creating a variety of healing potions which she keeps a heavy stock of. She has carved a basement out of her home in Godric's Hollow and uses that as a potions lab.

Cassie spent four years abroad and came back with all the relevant qualifications for healing. In her absence, the Dark Lord had been gathering power and many of the other pure-bloods she knew had pledged themselves to his service, including her older brother. Her father remained neutral, but it was widely accepted that he aligned to the dark arts. When she returned to England, Cassie felt some pressure to join the Death Eaters but she resisted - her focus was on healing, regardless of what side they were on. Cassandra does broadly agree with some of the Dark Lord's ideologies, but she cannot support it fully when her focus is the damage caused by the Death Eaters that he lets run riot. Like her father, Cassandra maintains quiet neutrality which allows her to heal those on both sides of the war.

Cassandra now works predominantly as a private healer for pure-blooded families who want a discreet service at home, rather than attending St Mungos. She is on retainer at St Mungos if they were ever entirely overwhelmed, and has been called in once or twice, but Cassie prefers the more personal method of private healing. She has made her position known that if a Death Eater were to come to her with injuries that they could not attend St Mungos with, those injuries and the circumstances with which they were gained would remain entirely confidential. She's still curious about the way the world works, and on occasions where she has healed wounds from particularly dark magic, Cassie has taken a copy of the magical signature and studies them at home to see if she can figure out a way to counter it.

Frowning at the woman, Regulus stood straight though his body was still angled in a way that he was blocking the shelf. "What about I'm browsing this shelf currently did you not understand?" he muttered grumpily. "There's no common courtesy these days for the British tradition of queueing and waiting your turn. Go ahead," he said, staring at the man behind Greta who was also eyeing up the shelf that Reg had been browsing. "But make it snappy, I want to take my time choosing the best ingredients."

Greta had had a bit of a cold recently and she decided to slip into the apothecary and get herself some medicine so that she would feel better quicker. As there was someone at the shelf she needed to get to, taking quite a while she cleared her throat, apologetic smile on her face when Regulus turned around. "I just need some cold medicine and then I'll be out of your way."

"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.”

What had begun between them as a mutually beneficial physical agreement had quickly become something deeper, though there was still mountains for them to climb before anything between them could become permanent. Still, he was beginning to see that his feelings weren't quite as casual he'd once thought. At her giggle, Fenrir turned his head to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Nance's living room was absolutely covered in paper. The boy has been spoiled rotten," Fenrir said, his tone full of fondness. He'd never thought it would, but fatherhood suited him.

It'd been many years since Fenrir had been present for a formal Christmas dinner, having not had a full family Christmas dinner since he was a boy with both parents. Christmas dinners with Magnus were informal and casual, usually just spent with Nancy rather than a full family affair. "A few hexes would liven up a stuffy old dinner. You should've thrown one under the table and let them argue about who started it," he said slyly.

Watching Pandora light up had Fenrir tightening his arms around her, wanting to draw her closer. "We try our best. Our romantic relationship didn't work, but she's my best friend and Magnus means everything to us. I don't think she will mind you meeting him, but I want to check anyways," he explained, before falling quiet as she did. "It's impossible to ignore what's between us, and you know my feelings on it. But giving some time to see where we get...I think I have been yours for a while now. Nobody else compares to you," he said with a warm smile. "I have something for you," he reached for his wand, summoning the small box from under his tree. "Merry Christmas, my darling."

There was an impeding question that hung on the tip of her tongue. It had been there for the last several weeks, not sure how to bring it up, or what he might think. Fenrir was the last person Pandora thought she would want, considering the obstacles that seemed to be in their way, but the more she pondered on it, the answer, for herself, was right there in front of her.

Pandora gave a small giggle, picturing Magnus tearing the wrapping paper to shreds. "Let him have the magic. It must have been a sight to see."

It was only a matter of time before he would be betrothed and her parents had a few families in mind. "You should have seen the arguing. I though hexes would have been thrown at some point." That was when she slipped out of the room unnoticed.

A genuine smile seeps on her lips when he mentions talking to Nancy about her meeting Magnus. There was part of her that wondered if he would turn her down, but he didn't. "That is understandable. I always admired how the two of you could co-parent the way you do." Her eyes close softly, feeling his head on top of hers. "I do have one more question," silence lingers a little between them, building the courage to utter her next words. "Will you be mine? I know what comes between us, but let's see how we do, together, and decide after a year." Her eyes slowly open, rising to find his.

Regulus glanced back at Frank's basket again before plucking some ginger from the shelf and dropping it into the other man's basket. "I hear ginger's quite helpful for warding off sickness. Make her some teas or something," he offered, recalling from an advanced potions book he'd read a few years back. "Nothing like a screaming mandrake to ward off potential burglars," he said with a small smile, before the smile quickly vanished. "I think it might be too late to stop the passage of time...maybe I can study it though, at the ministry. See what I can do."

"It's gotta be a fake moustache...gotta commit, y'know. It can't be Regulus Black's shitty moustache. Maybe I should use a hair growth potion."

"Thanks," Frank said, sorting the ingredients to make sure he'd have enough for the few other things he had to pick up. "Now I'm definitely picking you up some other ingredients when I come back. I might plant a few for our apartment, they're good for security as well. Then I won't have to buy as many. Tell time to give you a break, you're too young for it to do so much damage."

He laughed before he could help himself, smothering his smile when the shopkeeper gave them both a confused look. "Well future Albert, it will be a pleasure to meet your mustachioed future self."

If there was any apprehension running through his veins about the evening's upcoming events, Regulus did his best to banish them long before he apparated into the forest clearing. It had been drummed into him at a young age that anything other than blatant confidence was weakness, and weakness was to be punished. Indeed, when he turned around to face Rabastan, there was no hint of the complicated mess going on inside Regulus' brain to be seen. He nodded curtly at his mentor, before gesturing around the clearing. "Have you set protective enchantments around the area?" Reg asked, hardly waiting for a response before he began muttering spells beneath his breath. Whilst Regulus was fairly confident that they could take a few aurors between them, it would do no good for their cover if they were to be found. "Thanks for agreeing to help today...I'm not...well, I'm not the best at unforgivables," he said, his tone almost sheepish. @r-lestrcnge