Having Already Had One Table Complain About The Food (which Was Absolutely The Waiter's Fault For Taking

Kingsley loved his nephew more than life, but it was no understatement to say that Jasper was something akin to a hurricane. He loved spending time with him, but that sometimes came at the expense of quality time with his sister too and when Sade was on the verge of making a crucial decision that put her at significant risk, Kingsley was glad of the private time. He settled back into the sofa, his eyes following Sade as she passed before she disappeared from view. With her gone, Kingsley pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a few extra protection spells and wards over the home - he did it regularly, but it never hurt to ensure they were still holding up well.

"Work's busy but what's new when we're trying to chase Death Eaters down. I feel like between work and Order stuff, I never really get a chance to switch off or come and see you...but I'm trying to be better," he said earnestly, taking his mug. "How are you? I wanted to talk to you actually about the Order."

Sade always enjoyed when Kingsley called round, usually when Jasper was awake, they barely had a minute to catch-up. Now that Jasper was asleep, it felt like the perfect opportunity for a cup of tea and a much needed catch-up with her brother. Sade had been trying juggle Jasper, her return to work and attempt to increase her role within the order. It seemed like the pair were passing ships. Pushing herself off of the sofa, Sade patted Kingsley on the shoulder as she passed. "No, don't worry. I can pop on the brew."

"How are you?" Sade called into the living room from the kitchen, tapping her wand against the teapot. Boiling the water in an instant, she grabbed her and Kingsley's mug, and made the tea. "I feel like it's been forever."

Privately, Regulus wondered how many of these friends truly considered Greta a friend, and how many had been coerced into an entirely insane conversation like he seemed to have been. He could leave, but something about the witch kept his feet firmly in place. Perhaps it was his sheer confusion at the woman's outlook on life. "I'm perfectly fine with the friends I have, I have no need for more. Maybe they could, but if we haven't got there yet, I don't need it," he shrugged. There were already too many people meddling in his life. "A strong glass of whiskey?"

"I have a lot of friends and I always want to make more. There are so many people I haven't met yet. Who knows, maybe they could become some of my closest friends?" She always saw the world in a positive light, or at least she tried her hardest to do so. Greta held on to that positivity amongst the chaos surrounding them. "Well you make one conversation, then the next. And so on. And before you noticed, you purposefully spend time together, tea, coffee, drinks."

There was a emotional war going on inside Kingsley's mind, and no amount of sitting and thinking about it privately would do him any good. It was almost selfish of him, but Kingsley figured if there was ever a time to be selfish was now. He'd heard whispers that Sade was angling for more missions within the Order and he'd be a liar if he said that didn't terrify him. He would never presume that he could control Sade or what she did, but that didn't mean he couldn't heavily warn against it. Kingsley apparated onto Sade's doorstep, knocking once as a courtesy before he pushed the door open and walked in. He'd timed it knowing Jasper would already be in bed, which meant that hopefully he could talk to his sister with minimal interruptions.

"Sade?" he called, his voice low so as to not wake his nephew. "Sorry for dropping in unannounced, but I need to talk to you. Urgently." @sadeshacklebolt

Fenrir continued edging his way towards the cottage, keen eye assessing the number of patrolling agents he could see. Tapping his wand against his thigh, Fenrir narrowed his eyes slightly. "Homenum revelio," he cast towards the house, which the ministry had foolishly given patrols and yet no clear and obvious wards. "Ten people by my reckoning. Several outside, several inside. Whatever this man knows is highly valuable it appears," Fen said.

"You know me, I always want to take an extra few bodies. Is the Dark Lord wanting the mark above the house before we leave? Or is this supposed to be a secret?" he asked, glancing to Thorfinn's left arm briefly.

The blonde stood beside the other, knowing that there were many ways they could go about this, but at the end, little evidence that could be traced back, was what was required. "It does nothing, but some like to think it does." Thorfinn pulled out his wand, moving towards the pathway that led to the cottage.

"Have I? No." That was not what he did. There were others, lower ranking death eaters, who paid their dues, that provided all the information they needed. "The idea is to take the one inside to a secure location." The safehouse that he and Athena cased out. "From there we can do what we need." He paused looking over to Fenrir. "If you want to take a couple extra bodies. I do not care."

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.”

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.

Georgette's explosive attitude brought a small smirk to his lips. With everything else going on in his life, he'd been itching for bit of a fight with very little real life consequences. When everything else was so life-threateningly serious, fighting over some jewelweed in the apothecary was the exact level of stupid that he needed. "That's funny...my mother once said I was her best boy, but my father was shouting at me that I was a fucking waste of space so I guess you've met them somewhere in the middle," he said, head tilted slightly to the side. "Maybe someone should tell you to be polite. You're quite rude, actually."

A dry laugh tore from his throat and he raised his eyebrows in her direction, more than amused at the idea of his parents being any help in this situation. "Oh, I don't need mummy's help any more. I can fight my own battles," he sneered. His advice had been well intended, though he knew it wouldn't land well. "I shall keep my unsolicited advice to myself next time," he said, elbowing her as she shoved past him. Turning back to the shelf, Reg began shovelling random vials into his basket, as many as he could.

Wait her turn politely? Was he fucking serious? They weren't at Hogwarts. And even if they were she would have no problem telling him where to shove it. “You’re a right pain in the ass, you know that I’m sure. Can’t be the first one to mention it.” She took a beat. “I don’t need anyone telling me to be polite.” It wasn’t in her genes.

Georgette had to fight for survival and no one was going to take that away from her, especially not some squirrely little chump with obvious privilege. "Maybe you should run and tell mum and dad on me for being a bitch."

Her face burned. "I know how to take care of myself. I don't need to go to St. Mungo's. This isn't the first time, nor will it be the last, that I take care of my hands myself. I don't need some little know it all giving me his unsolicited advice. Thanks." She pushed near him to look at the vials not giving two shits about invading his personal space.

@battle-scvrs

There had to come a breaking point in this war at some point, but it was difficult to ignore the assumption that many of the Death Eaters were unemployed pure-blooded socialites who didn't have to worry about keeping their activities to after-work hours. That wasn't to say that there weren't plenty of Death Eaters who were employed, in fact Kingsley had his suspicions about many of the ministry employees, but he doubted that so many of the other side were as exhausted as the Order were getting. "Many things can be said about my parents, but the manners that they raised me and Sade with were absolutely perfect," Kingsley acknowledged. "Oh, absolutely she does. More than anyone."

Kingsley curled his hand around the beer glass, letting the cold sink into his skin as he considered Edgar's words. "I just...can't risk losing her. What happens to Jasper if she's gone? What happens to me if she's gone?" he said, his voice strained. "I would never dream of controlling her, and if she decides this is what she wants then by Merlin I will put her through training more rigorous than auror training. But you know as well as I that it only takes one rogue spell and that's it...the vicious scar on my side is testament to that. I'm scared for her."

He could agree with Kingsley, the nights were getting longer, and one they had finished with the ministry, they were off do order business. Things had been tense, especially with what happened with Frank, that they had their guard up more. "We can respect your mom." He laughed, a shake of his head. Edgar wanted to admit that he could tell the bars were getting busier, but his mind had been on other witches, that it was hard to keep from this thoughts, and considering his grandfather's death. "She deserves it." Ros worked hard.

Edgar could understand the worry when it came to his friends sister wanting to be part of the order, especially with have a toddler at home to take care of. He did his best to make sure the witch was out of harms way, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before she pushed for more. The wizard took a sip of his beer. "That is why we have to make sure she's trained properly." He knew how his own sister put herself in harms way at times, but it wasn't like this, grateful that she never asked to be part of what he did. "You know you are both safe with us."