With The Confessions He Had Made To Edgar, Regulus Knew That This Was It Now. He Had To Entirely Commit

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?"

Awaiting Thorfinn's appearance, Fenrir had begun sizing up the cottage in the distance. If he had to guess, he would say the place was heavily warded, though it didn't appear to have been made unplottable. At the crack of apparition, Fenrir turned to face Thorfinn and he didn't have to ask for further information before the other man offered it freely. "Witness protection," he snorted, twisting his wand in between his fingers. "What good has witness protection ever done anyone?"

"I'm always ready for fun," he said, starting to edge his way a little closer to the cottage though he stayed hidden in the tree line. "You've watched the patrols?" he asked, turning his wand on himself to cast a disillusionment charm over himself. "I don't know why we can't just kill the patrols...we can deal with whatever reinforcements they send."

Thorfinn finished his drink, watching the other come out from the back, changed and ready to go. There was nothing like having a good hunt and extracting some information. That seemed to be the go to for them. The more information they had, the better it would be for them. "See you there."

With a small twist, he popped from the white wyvern, coming out in a small clearing where a cottage stood off in the distance. He turned to find Fenrir standing there. "Corey Adler. He worked for the Minister of Magic, and was put under witness protection, and I wonder why." The last week, he had learned when patrol switch off happened and found a way to break the wards. "You ready to have a little fun. In five minutes we'll have enough time to break through and enter without anyone seeing us."

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

Settling his own mask over his face, Fenrir offered Thorfinn a curt nod. He fell silent for the rest of the time until the shift change, though the beast under his skin was practically whining to be let free. As the patrol began to apparate away leaving the thinnest window of time with less guards, Fenrir apparated straight to the front door that had just been vacated and walked straight in.

In the first reception room was a sole guard, taken by surprise by Fenrir's sudden appearance. With a vicious curve of his wand, Fenrir disarmed the other man and snapped his wand. A lazy silencing charm prevented the other man from calling for help, before he smiled cruelly behind his mask. "Diffindo," he cast as he slashed with his wand, watching a cut appear nearly down the front of the man's torso. The man's mouth was open in a pained scream, though no sound came out as the floor was painted with blood.

He could feel that buzzing energy begin to spread from his finger tips and down his arms. The sudden need to let go and allow the real him to come out, who what he was truly capable of. His head slanted side to side. "Shift change is in ten minutes." They were earlier than he expected, but hidden nonetheless.

"I can manage the mark." It was one he had flashed into the air plenty of times, satisfaction hitting him each time. His hands rubbed together, pulling out his mask. "Are you ready for this?"

"There's a small dash of mustard in there too, and some nutmeg," he said. He may work in a pub kitchen, he may be looked down upon within society, but he saw no reason to serve shit food. He kept his employers happy, and they continued to turn a blind eye to the days off that he requested each month like clockwork. "I find that the two work very well together. Just the right balance of each, and some finely sliced potatoes and...voila, or whatever the French say."

"Oh cheddar and parmesan together is a great idea. Usually people shy away from combining two stronger flavor profiles but I do find that they compliment each other well."

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?”

Reg put the stopper back in the bottle of dittany, watching as Caradoc's skin started to knit itself back together and the wound looked several days old rather than fresh. With the most immediate issue dealt with, Reg cast a few cleansing charms over his boyfriend before casting a general diagnostic charm. With his magic indicating Caradoc's other wounds, Regulus was about to start healing again when Caradoc's words made him freeze.

From his position on the floor, Reg let his wand drop into his lap. He reached to take Caradoc's trembling hands, his gaze resting intently on the other man's face. "This is war, Caradoc. It's life or death, you had to do what you did to stay alive. He would have killed you without thought, and he wouldn't have gone home and felt a single scrap of guilt. I'm glad it was him and not you. And I'm glad you came straight here."

Biting down on his lip for a moment, Regulus was silent for a moment. "Did anyone see Edward die? Anyone that might identify you, that might retaliate?" Regulus might have started feeding the Order information, but to protect Caradoc he would fall back on his arsenal of dark magic and he would feel no guilt about it.

Caradoc inhaled sharply at the feeling of the sting from the essence, watching Regulus work on handling the wound. He had other wounds, yes, but he wasn’t really thinking about any of it. The pain was there, but it was nothing compared to what was haunting his mind. Something had happened tonight that would change his life forever. What if the Ministry found out?

“I killed Edward Avery,” he said, knowing that Regulus would recognize the name as a Death Eater. “I-I didn’t mean to . . . He was attacking us, he was going to kill us, I didn’t . . . Reg, I . . .”

He trembled, partly from the pain, partly out of despair. He had never dreamt that this would happen, even though he had been trained for it. Caradoc thought Regulus might hate him. “And everything fell down around us and I couldn’t move and I didn’t know what to do, Reggie.”

Despite the fact that Regulus was now twenty-one years old and lived alone, he was not immune from being sent to do his mother's dirty work on a quiet weekend. After all, why go to Knockturn Alley yourself when you can send your son to do it for you? Tugging his jacket a little tighter around his body as he pondered bitterly the fact his mother still didn't respect the sanctity of his time alone, Reg had kept his eyes downcast as he weaved in and out of the crowds. Just as he was about to take the turn towards Knockturn, Reg spotted a familiar flash of blonde hair and decided that Borgin and Burkes could wait. "Merely saying hello, cousin," Regulus said, offering her a small smile. "How was your honeymoon? And life at Malfoy Manor?"

WHO: Narcissa & OPEN WHERE: Diagon Alley

With a small list of items to collect on her travels, Narcissa had made her way to Diagon Alley for the afternoon. The streets were as busy as ever as she weaved in and out of the other witches and wizards who’d had the similar idea of coming in to town now that students were back at Hogwarts again for the year. Thoughts drifting off to the memories of her honeymoon as she perused, Narcissa hadn’t been aware of someone approaching her until she heard a voice that seemed to be closer than the rest around her. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?” She asked, looking around at the other person.

Regulus had shown Caradoc more of his true self than he'd shown to anyone else in years - maybe even since Sirius left. He'd been able to show Caradoc his love of the muggle way of cooking, and hadn't had to pretend that the food he was serving had been made by a house elf. He'd shown Caradoc some of the gentleness that he thought had been left behind in the halls of Hogwarts along with the ghosts, and it had softened him. Caradoc had managed to break down his cold exterior, and with the slow removal of the bricks that Regulus had built around himself, the more uncomfortable he'd grown with his position in the war.

Leaning comfortably into his embrace, Reg smacked a kiss against Caradoc's cheek. "I'm sorry it's been so long...it's been kind of a wild time since I last saw you. I guess I've got a lot to say, and I definitely couldn't say it in a letter," he said, his voice taking on a tinge of nervousness. He wasn't entirely sure how Caradoc was going to take his news, but he wanted to be open and honest. "How nasty, my dear? I could never do your job...I seem to be better at setting curses off than breaking them," Reg said, thinking back to a recent mission where he accidentally tripped a curse because he was distracted.

As they settled onto the couch, Reg flicked his wand towards a pot of cinnamon tea that he'd made earlier and warmed it before charming it to pour two cups. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and the world outside seemed to fade away as it always did when he was with Caradoc. "I won't keep you wondering too much longer. I've got a lot to tell you."

Caradoc immediately relaxed as Regulus’s arms wrapped around his waist, closing his eyes for a second. He always felt safer here, even more safe than his own home, because of the protective wards Regulus had. Plus, he knew that if this was bad news, Regulus wouldn’t have embraced him so warmly. It reminded Caradoc of how special this was, that he got to experience and see the soft side of his . . . Boyfriend? He wasn’t really sure what the label was, but it didn’t matter. They were together and they both knew it, that was enough.

He accepted the kiss with a smile, wrapping his arms around Regulus’s neck. “Hi. I missed you too. Receiving your owl was definitely a nice surprise. I didn’t want to risk my letter being compromised if I replied, so I came here as soon as possible. Just returned from a job this morning, had to deal with a nasty curse,” he replied, rambling on a bit. He was trying not to let it show how eager he was to hear this news. Caradoc had tried to speculate on what it might be, but couldn’t decide on a good guess.

Figuring that they should settle in, Caradoc took Regulus’s hand and wandered over to the couch, sitting down on it. He had dressed comfortably, with a snug jumper and jeans on.

Narrowing his eyes at the other man's amusement, Regulus frowned. "I would qualify it as stealing. It's only polite, see, if someone's stood here first. If you had been here before myself, I would let you take as much of the stock as you needed and made do with whatever was left...like polite, reasonable people do," Regulus said, determined to die on this hill. "Oh, I've tried. Every time I come anywhere near him the owner seems to disappear, and I'm left with the poor people who run the tills."

Frank's lips quirked before he could help it. "I'm not really sure I can qualify that as stealing, though it's definitely unfair." He knew that Regulus was young, almost impossibly young to be so well-spoken and austere, but sometimes the young age showed more than others. "Perhaps you ought to take it up with the owner. Maybe they'd be able to set some aside for you if you gave them forewarning."