The Tone Of His Cousin's Voice Broke Through Regulus' Rambling Worries, And He Looked Up At Her. Regardless

"Mmm, I just can't stand normal. You intrigue me...and therefore, here we are," he said with a brief wink in Pandora's direction. This arrangement was mutually beneficial, but the moment it ceased to be so Fenrir would simply move on. He was under no false pretences about the other witch - she would marry a pureblood, someone acceptable. Smirking at her affirmation that it was a command, Fenrir stepped closer. "Well then, it appears I have no other choice. I am yours for as long as you need," Fenrir said, looking down at the other witch.

A hand reached out to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and he leaned in to press a teasing kiss to the soft skin of her neck. "I'll try and behave myself for now, but I make no promises," he murmured, knowing it wouldn't be long until they tumbled into his bed. "I don't trust easily, Dora. You know this, darling," his tone held a warning note, but he looked curiously at the clock she'd been working on. He fell silent as she explained the spell, considering his options. Pandora knew he was a wild beast, and it was becoming even more common knowledge amongst the Death Eaters and their allies that Fenrir was building an army for himself. "How long will I be paralysed for? Just until the secret is shared?"

"And it appears you have a thing for odd witches." Pandora retorts softly, her attention remaining on the clock in front of her, though a cheeky grin forms on her lips that he can easily see. It only takes her a second to decide which one she is choosing at his first question. "A command." Said with certainty and confidence, a slight dig at trying to tame the beast that overshadowed her.

"Both." Lately, when they did end up seeing each other, it always did end in pleasure and if Magnus was away for the night. Pandora turns to face Fenrir. "I need you to trust me." Famous last words. "I need to know that what I tied together works." What she was about to ask him, he could easily refuse and she would accept it, or he could help her see if this time, her spell would work. "I need you to pick the clock up, but I'll warn you, it's a paralysing spell and it will also get you to share with me your darkest secret."

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.

Taking Alecto’s lack of argument as her acceptance of his lie, Regulus turned his attention back to the food. Rather than manually plating the food up, Regulus waved his wand and made the utensils do the work for him. “I know, I’ve come to expect silence from you…and yet, you always show up,” he teased, a small smile on his lips. He levitated the two bowls over to the dining table, before grabbing a bottle of pumpkin juice from the fridge. “Mixed…we’re trying to strengthen my ability to use unforgivable. I can’t hold them particularly long. My other magical skill is up to scratch, I feel. I wanted your opinion actually after dinner, I’ve brought two artefacts home from the ministry. I want to know if they perhaps might be of use for our cause. I can duplicate them if so, send the false ones back to the department with a faked magical signature.”

Alecto studied Regulus, taking a moment to see if he was speaking the truth. There was the worry that he would follow after his brother and she would not allow that to happen. "If you say so." The witch had no interest in debating with the young wizard, or simply using her magic to learn the truth. Silent steps moved around the kitchen effortlessly, the pad of her finger running across the surface of the island counter. The thought of cooking herself was insanity, and she was one that danced on that fine line repeatedly. "When have I ever sent an owl back, hmmm?" Both palms splayed across the counter top on the other side. "How is your mentoring going?"

Her response was even more confusing than the initial statement, and Regulus continued staring with his jaw agape. He truly couldn't understand Greta's world view. "You are one of the most baffling women I have ever met. If I never had to talk to anyone ever again in public, I would not mind it one bit."

"Of course I do. I love catching up with friends or meeting new people. And sometimes other people are in the shops for the same things you are and can give you advice or their opinion on something. It's incredibly helpful." Greta was a people person through and through, she had no problem walking up to someone and starting a conversation. Not talking to anyone all day would make her feel extremely lonely.

Casting a disapproving glance in the direction of the man who'd disturbed him, Regulus' eyes remained trained on him until the man slunk away. He heard the man cursing under his breath, and Reg couldn't help the victorious smirk that spread on his lips. "I don't think I'm particularly well known for being nice...unless something has drastically changed since I last left the house," Reg shot back to Val, shrugging his shoulders. "Guess I'm tired of being bothered...I'm feeling a little grumpy today, and I was hoping Diagon Alley wouldn't be this busy."

Val had watched the interactions between Regulus and the party that wanted to look at the same shelves as him. The other seemed a bit insulted but did turn away after all. “Regulus Black, that wasn’t very nice of you, was it?” She said to him as she stood next to him, looking at the shelf next to the one he was watching. Stock of the shop had been running low and they weren’t going to make it with all ingredients until the next shipment of the Apothecary would be delivered, so Val had made her way over to the location for the emergency ingredients. “Is there a reason for the short reaction?”

"You don't need to worry about it," Regulus said, his tone a little sharper than it had been since he'd sat down. "It's not about the war. Just because you are one of my officially assigned protectors does not give you an insight into my private life," though he'd already revealed far more to James than he imagined he would to his other protector. Bloody James Potter and his open and inviting personality, what a prick. That wasn't even to mention Edgar Bones for putting them in this situation in the first place. Clenching his fingers into fists as James continued talking about how hard Sirius' life had been, Regulus wasn't sure he'd ever manage to get past the bitterness that was deep seated within him, nor the overwhelming feeling of abandonment that threatened to swallow him whole. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, anyways. If Sirius wants me to feel pity for his lot in life, he'll need to tell me that himself. I'll listen...but that requires him to talk," Regulus was fully aware that he was being a little childish, but he figured given everything else going on he was allowed a little grace. "I reckon a fist fight between Sirius and I might sort everything out. Wanna play referee?"

Regulus honestly wasn't sure who he was without the tangled web of feelings that had swallowed him whole for years. Perhaps it was the influence of dark magic impacting his soul, perhaps it was the general levels of distrust amongst the Death Eater ranks - he was always looking over his shoulder, fearing a betrayal. "Honestly, we've got bigger issues than my brain," he shrugged, before rolling his eyes at James' smirk. "It's intoxicating. It is...the power that you can wield over others. I can see why my friends have slipped down the path they have. I just can't...it's not right to hurt people, under the guise of blood purity, when really all they seek is power."

Regulus was still an absolute outsider to the Order of the Phoenix, and he was not interested in getting involved further than he already was. He'd been plainly honest with all those he'd spoken to - he didn't see what hope the Order had, but it was all they had given he knew there was corruption at the ministry. "It's the motivation behind it all," Regulus said quietly. "The Dark Lord's motivation is chaos, power and domination. The Order want to restore justice - or, that's my limited understanding anyways. There are curses that are reversible, curses that will merely disable someone enough for them to be arrested. You're more likely to land one when attacking, rather than fending off their curses and trying to stun. I'm not suggesting the Order should turn around and start killing people...but honestly, if we're going to arrest people and then give them the dementor's kiss, what's the difference? It's just a longer process but it's effectively the same result," and this was why Regulus was no major strategist, why nobody would ever look to him to lead. If the Order was always on the defensive, they would find themselves surprised and overwhelmed before much time passed at all. "I'm not asking you to sacrifice who you are, James. I respect what you're saying. But if it gets to a point where I'm fighting alongside the Order on a battlefield, I won't be using defensive spells and that's that. I will fight for my life."

With eyes fixed firmly on the mug of beer, Reg frowned deeply. "Even as recently as two weeks ago, my cousin made me practice unforgivables on her to demonstrate my ability or lack thereof. Crucioing my own cousin, then watching her disappointment because I didn't love it...my family's fucked up, James," he said with a small smile. Even as he was saying the words, he knew that it was only because Bellatrix cared - but wasn't that fucked up in itself? "How long have you got?" he asked with a small laugh.

Waving his hand dismissively, Regulus tilted his head slightly in James' direction. So James wanted to play dumb, did he? Well, Regulus would put a name to it then. "You're acting like you're jealous which you have no right to be. You said you're happy for me, and then did...whatever the fuck this is," he said, narrowing his eyes as James rolled his. "What's wrong with Caradoc? Or is it just....no, fuck that, I'm not gonna get into that." Regulus trailed off, feeling incredibly irate.

"What other developments?" he pressed. James wasn't typically the type of person to push anything; if someone wanted to drop a topic of conversation, he'd get the hint and segue into an other without a second thought. This was different. If it was something to do with the Order, or the war, it was important enough that he would at least try to get it out of him, even if he had to spell it out in black and white. He wasn't sure if it was real or imagined, but James noticed a look in Regulus' eye. For both their sakes, he hoped he'd imagined it. He nodded. "Yeah, I know. Though sometimes ... I'm sure he felt like it. What else could it be?" This all felt so sticky, complicated, and he was skirting around the things he truly wanted to say. "He has," James said firmly. "Even if you don't want to hear it. That's not to say you haven't gone through a lot, too. You both have the right to navigate this situation however you do, but a little empathy wouldn't be lost on either of you." James sighed deeply, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "This is bigger than some sibling rivalry. But it's better if you get this all out of your system now, I suppose."

It troubled him deeply that Regulus still felt like this after all these years. He'd tried to untie the vines, slowly, with love and delicate fingers, when he'd had the chance to, but it seemed they had all tangled up again. Or perhaps he hadn't done as much as he thought back then. "I can try." James listened quietly as he reeled off what made a good son and death eater, as if it were scripture. To some, he supposed, it was as good as. "Sure, but I meant more in a philosophical sense," he said, and couldn't help the smirk that crept onto his face. It lightened to something more soft as he continued. "You're lucky to have the conscience you do. Even if it might not feel like it. The world would be a much better place if others did, too."

To be honest, James didn't know much about the inner workings of the Order of the Phoenix, and he suddenly felt very stupid for it. All he did all day was fly around on a silly broomstick and shoot balls through a hoop. There were people who devoted their days to this cause, this fight that he claimed to be all-invested in, but here he was, unable to answer a single one of Regulus' questions. It was shameful, really. He listened intently. Everything he was saying made perfect sense, and yet, James felt a growing sense of discomfort in the pit of his stomach. "You're probably right," he agreed. "But then, what really separates us from them? I wonder about this sometimes. If I was put in a situation where I was protecting someone I love," He thought of Lily first, "Would I be able to look somebody in the eye and curse them? Kill them? Obviously, it's difficult to say unless you're in the moment, but I don't think I'd be able to live with myself." His voice was even. "I'd die for someone I love. A thousand times over. But I'm not sure, in good conscience, that I could kill for them. Maybe that's selfish. Maybe it means we'll lose, and we're doomed, but I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees. I don't want this war to turn me into something I'm not. I want to win, but I want to win on my terms, without compromising who I am."

Although it was on a far smaller scale, James could relate to far more of what Regulus was feeling than either of them probably realised. "No, I think I get it. As much as I can get it, I mean." No – had it been that obvious? He didn't want Regulus to think he couldn't talk about it further if he needed to, so James shook his head. "Confess to me. It's fine. I'll pardon all of 'em."

"Don't be like what? I'm not being like anything," he said defensively. "I'm being perfectly nice. I just said I'm happy for you." Of-fucking-course it was Caradoc. He rolled his eyes. Clearly, Regulus had a type. "Cool." There was definitely something wrong with him. He was acting like a moody, jealous teenager, and he wasn't even sure why, because he certainly wasn't moody, or jealous, or a teenager. A buzz filled his head, and he forced a smile. He wished Regulus had obliviated him, and then himself, so that they could both forget about this horrible reaction.

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.

Kingsley couldn't be prouder of his dear friend. She had fulfilled a dream through hard-work, entirely undeterred by the state of their country. She had bought a place to call her own, to carve out something akin to a legacy - and with that came an added safe place for Order members, one that could be properly protected now. Mentally, he made a note to offer to ward the back room properly that evening, but he wasn't there for Order business. He was there to put all of that into the back of his mind, and to celebrate with his friend.

Nodding his head apologetically, Kingsley shot her a small smile. "I made an arrest earlier, but I then had to file the paperwork to go along with it and you know what I'm like with paperwork...I would much rather be out doing," he shrugged. "Oh, it looks awful...I might make us turn out the lights and eat in the darkness, it feels easier," he chuckled. "Every day these days is a long day, unfortunately. The job of the auror department is getting more complex each day, and then I leave work and essentially do the same for the Order," he reached to take the plates from Ros before he opened the takeout containers, and plated up their stew. "Now, tell me. What's your first order of business here as the owner?"

It had taken quite some time, but the happiness that came from it was unlimited. The Three Broomsticks was officially hers. Completely and only hers. There were so many things to do. It had been one thing to have an unsanctioned safe house in the back, but especially because she hadn’t been able to use the proper protective spells to make sure no one wasn’t found without the previous owner finding out about it. But right now, she could do whatever she wanted. So Ros was already making lists about it all in her head.

The woman was pulled from her thoughts when her friend made his way into the Three Broomsticks and a large smile formed on her face at the sight of Kingsley. “I was already waiting for you to arrive, took you long enough,” she said with a chuckle before motioning at the door with her wand to lock it. It was after closing time after all and with these times, you never knew what could happen these times. Her gaze moved towards the tubs on the table and she knew enough; she knew exactly what he had brought along. And it was confirmed by him soon after. “I feel very flattered. You do know that it looks terrible but it tastes so good,” she laughed at him before moving in, to hug him. She let go of him so she could walk behind the bar, finding some plates and cutlery for their food. “But you are late, did you have a long day?”

Letting the heat from the mug sink into his bones, Kingsley found himself relaxing back into the sofa. There weren't many places that Kingsley felt he could truly relax, but his sister's home was one of them - warded as much as his own home, with two residents that he trusted more than any other living soul. There was safety within these walls, and unconditional love. The thought of Sade putting herself at higher risk almost made him feel ill. He had wondered if this was what she might have felt as he put himself through auror training, or if this was how she felt when he had been critically injured - perhaps it was unfair for him to be here, on the verge of pleading with her.

But he would do it anyways - for Jasper's sake, and for his own sake.

"I'm not sure the Dark Lord takes breaks, but I am trying to be better. The department is stretched, but better a man down for a few days rather than me being exhausted in battle and then they're a man down permanently," he said sagely. "But you're settling in alright? Co-workers all fine?" he asked, conscious that the ministry was strained at the best of time. "I have. But I want to hear it from you, before I say my piece. I trust Edgar told me the whole truth, but I want to hear from you what you're looking for and why."

Settling into the sofa with her own mug in hand, Sade looked down into her tea as Kingsley brought up the Order. In recent weeks, Sade had been interested in increasing her involvement, to maybe allow herself to be put forward for a few missions. Acting as a safe house wasn’t an option, bringing trouble to the home she shared with her son was never a step Sade was willing to take. Her involvement in the Order was supportive, rather than proactive, and anybody who knew Sade was aware at how much being sidelined irritated her. Nevertheless, it was something she knew Kingsley would disagree with. That was why she had visited a few of his friends, other influential figures within the Order’s ranks.

“You need to take a break,” Sade acknowledged, an evident tone of concern in her voice, “some time off might just be what you need.” Leaning back on the sofa, bringing her legs to rest beside her. Sade always admired Kingsley, his tenacity, and ambition but with the war ever-raging on, it wasn’t healthy to never switch off. “I’ve been good, starting back at the office is strange. A position in the Wizengamot doesn’t look quite as close as it once did.” She chuckled, a brief pause. “The Order? Something tells me you’ve heard about my requests.”

The owl that he had sent to Alecto earlier in the day had returned without a reply, but Regulus had taken the silence as a yes rather than a no and had prepared enough dinner for two. If Alecto didn't show up then he would simply have enough leftovers to take for lunch to work, but it was rare that Alecto didn't answer a summons from him. At least this time he was offering dinner, rather than an ongoing crisis. If his mother could see him, she would look down her nose at Regulus cooking the 'muggle' way rather than using a house elf, but he found that the methodical nature of it soothed his mind. Two of the artefacts that Regulus had been experimenting on at work were on the sideboard, surrounded by protective enchantments. Alcott had been sniffing around his work too much, and Regulus didn't trust that these artefacts wouldn't go missing if they were left at work. His wards alerted him to Alecto's presence just as Regulus was removing dinner from the oven, and with a small grin, he shouted "I'm in the kitchen." @alectocarrowx