The Leaky Cauldron Was Full Of Patrons Making A Pit Stop While They Do Their Christmas Shopping, And

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."

Who: @xremus-lupinx When: The next day after the last full moon

It had been many years since Fenrir truly suffered after a full moon. Embracing his wolfish side completely, and taking control of his pack, had made Fenrir stronger than ever. He could wake up from a full moon and go straight to work (after a long shower), and he knew that this made him better than the humans who were stuck in their body - and the werewolves that resisted their true natures. One such werewolf, young Remus Lupin, had been resisting Fenrir for years and yet still, the older man persevered. He believed that Remus would come to understand what he truly was, and realise that being part of a true pack would strengthen him. The full moon had been two days prior, and as he began making his way through Diagon Alley to work, he spotted Remus who looked rather pallid.

Pausing, Fenrir grasped the younger man's shoulder and pulled him aside. "You aren't looking so well, Lupin. Difficult night last night?"

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?”

Staring at Andromeda in a state of something almost akin to shell-shock, Regulus didn't quite know what to do with himself. Finishing his sugar quill quickly before stuffing his hands into his pocket, Regulus could practically hear his mother's shrill voice shrieking in his ear that he should take this opportunity to make Andromeda regret ever leaving them. He'd never had much of a taste for violence, especially not for an older cousin that he had once cared for...and he certainly couldn't bring himself to harm a child, even if that child was a half-blood with shocking green hair. The dark mark burned into his forearm was itching in her presence, a burning reminder of what ideologies he had signed his life away to...and yet, there was something that held him back.

He took a small step closer to them. In all these years, he'd never seen Nymphadora Tonks in person - he'd only heard the bitterness of his family's curses when the birth was announced, and if he'd spotted someone that looked vaguely like Andromeda in the past, he'd quickly turned and gone the other way like a coward. Not this time. With a quick glance to ensure there were no eyes watching them, Regulus nodded curtly towards the small child. "It's nice to meet you, Dora. Do you like sugar quills? I have another if your mother will allow it," he said, eyes drifting up to Andromeda. Maybe it was a poor imitation of a peace offering, or maybe he simply couldn't bring himself to be a dick to a small child that shared his blood. "It's been many years, Andromeda. I was beginning to think I might never see you again, privately or publicly. Do you...still see Sirius?" He asked rather pathetically, with the small voice of a boy that still ached at the loss of his big brother.

A day free from work at St Mungos was rather rare for Andromeda. She tended to work her usual hours along with more on top of it. However her bosses had decided it was necessary for her to take time off, lest she end up exhausted or sick due to neglecting her own needs. Most would have taken the opportunity to spend the day at home. She however had seen it as an opportunity to spend the day with her daughter in Diagon Alley. They’d just finished their ice cream at Floreans when Dora had begged to go and see the owls. Unable to say no, she’d held on to Dora as they made their way down the cobblestone street. While she knew Dora was capable of walking on her own, it made her nervous when her daughter was prone to change appearance at will. As seen by the way her daughter had already changed her hair to a brilliant shade of green to match the ice cream she’d just ate.

She didn’t know what made her look up from her daughter, only the sense of eyes on the two of them. She looked up and her eyes immediately found Regulus, her heart clenching in her chest. Years ago, she may have chosen to just leave, take Dora and head in the opposite direction. But she’d long ago refused to stop running. So instead she continued to guide Dora in that direction, her eyes not leaving her cousin. “Hello Regulus…” Perhaps he hated her like the rest of her family, but there was no knowing unless she tried. So she motioned to her daughter, running her fingers through her mess of green hair. “Dora….this is Regulus.” Her uncle, but she wasn’t prepared to use that title on someone who may not deserve it.

It was almost too good. The woman had barely needed any pushing at all before she exploded off a cliff edge in fury, and Regulus couldn't hold back his smirk. It was so easy, and he had hardly a care in the world for the other patrons in the store as he continued poking the angry bear. "Oh, daddy dearest has lots of good ideas...it's hard to listen to him though when his dulcet tones are drowned out by my mother's shrill shrieking. Its a wonder I still have eardrums at all," he mused nonchalantly. "Your mother gave you 'rude' as a middle name? She must hate you."

Adrenaline was thrumming through his veins as she shoved him, and he shot her a shit-eating grin as she screamed, entirely unbothered by her sudden increase in volume. "Yes, you should be polite. You're bothering the other patrons with your shrieking," he said smoothly, continuing to pile random potions ingredients in his basket. With a keen eye, he watched what she picked up and as she walked away, Regulus pulled his wand out and subtly cast a vanishing spell on the vial in her hand. The rest of the vials were his, and he cast a quick protection spell over the basket to prevent her from magically stealing one from him.

She was beyond annoyed. All Georgette wanted was to go to the Apothecary, get some ingredients then go back to her safe space. This interaction is precisely why she didn't go out. Little pricks who thought they were better than everyone else roaming around causing trouble for no good reason. All she wanted was something to help with her hands. That's it. And the asshole had to be an asshole. She couldn't let him get away with it. It wasn't in her nature.

"Obviously your mother was wrong but your father had some great ideas. You should really listen to him more. Believe me. I'm nowhere in the middle. Not an ounce of me thinks you're the 'best boy,'" she scoffed. "I'm in father's camp." Him telling her she was rude like it was supposed to bother her was laughable. She lived to be rude. "Rude is my middle name and I'm not about to give it up now. Especially for the likes of you."

As he elbowed her, Georgette's anger seethed. She pushed him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? I hadn't laid a finger on you no matter how much I wanted to. And you're telling me to be polite while you elbow me?! Fuck you!" she screamed. She saw him shoveling vile after vile into his basket. "You bloody bastard." She looked at the shelf they had been at. He hadn't gotten everything. She picked up one of the viles she needed and stormed past him headed to get another for her potion, shoulder checking him as she walked by.

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."

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.

"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?”

At Pandora's murmured words, Fenrir thought that summed them up. They were a pair of unusual people, who found peace amongst nature and were somewhat different to their peers. It was a stray encounter in the woods that had brought them together, and they had been colliding ever since. Humming a small noise of affirmation at the possession in her tone, a small smile tugged at his lips before it disappeared again. There weren't many witches bold enough to try and tame him, never mind asserting her possession of him - even if just for an evening.

"I'm a selfish man. I know what I want, and I take it," he whispered against her soft skin, nipping ever so gently before he kissed her again. A small growl of discontent sounded in his throat as she reminded him that there were still things to do before he could indulge, and he pulled back slightly otherwise he would lose himself in the witch in front of him. "I will hold that promise as seriously as if we had made an unbreakable vow."

If he'd thought for a moment, he should have separated them so that Pandora wouldn't be entirely caught in his hold while he was paralysed. If something went wrong, she would need to be able to undo it. Fenrir himself wasn't entirely sure what his darkest secret could be, but he felt a pressure in his throat almost like sickness threatening to come out. He couldn't move, couldn't relieve the pressure in any way other than to open his mouth and talk. "I killed my father when I was fifteen, and I have not regretted it once. His body is somewhere in the Scottish highlands, nobody has tried to look for him."

Almost as quickly as his muscles had seized up, he began to relax again and he let go of the clock. Quirking his eyebrow in interest, Fenrir considered the words he had just spoken. "I haven't spoken of my father for over a decade."

The fact that Pandora felt the same about Fenrir should have set sirens off in her head, warning her that this could only end in disaster, but for the first time, in her life, she felt seen. The witch grew up around pureblood standards, but felt she slipped through the cracks with the way she saw the world and the hobbies that intrigued her. Her parents concerned laid on her brother, in search of the perfect pureblood witch to marry him to. "Here I am, continuing to find my way into the woods and into your arms." She was determined to live in the moment and worry about nothing more. "I will take that, you being mine for tonight." A satisfied tone in her words. More meaning behind it than she had realised.

"You never do play fair." A soft whisper rolling from her tongue. The more time they spent together, the more she found it hard to resist his charm, and seductive ways, and at times she didn't want to. "I promise, once we finish, you can have me in all the ways you do," she stated, a promise she would keep.

Pandora would prove that she was worth him trusting her, knowing her actions would be more what he needed from her than her words. Her kind were surely look down at him, convinced they did now, but he she knew from what her brother would talk about, was that they were important allies for the cause. A sigh spilled free when he returned the kiss, eyes sparkling with excitement when he agreed to hold the clock for her.

She was not expecting him to do so right away, caught between his arms and the clock, she cared only for his reaction than the object. He would feel his muscles begin to lock into place, a sudden desire building up at the back of this throat, a need to express his darkest secret, and he would not be free from his paralysed shackles until he spoke his truth aloud.

Fenrir couldn't stop the look of absolute bafflement on his face as the woman rambled about protective whiskey. "The only thing this whiskey is protecting me from is the Christmas crowds, and it's giving me a cheerful mood," he said, tone laced with sarcasm. At her next question, Fen tilted his head slightly, considering the words. "Whiskey makes me feel good. I don't need to worry about being seen, I seem to attract attention wherever I go without me working for it."

"Huh." The sound came out a soft note, permeated with sincere interest. "Amber's thought to ward off negative energy. Maybe that whiskey's protecting you from something," she said, writing something else down before throwing the quill in the depths of her handbag, folding the napkin up and putting it in her pocket. "Did it make you feel good when I did? Did you feel seen?" A gentle tug pulled the corners of her lips into a small smirk.