Regulus Didn't Want To Feel This Seemingly Unending Bitterness Towards His Brother. He Didn't Want To

Kingsley cast his eyes over Aurora with a surveying eye, and her nervousness was evident. He didn’t want to terrify the poor girl, but equally, he was not willing to send unprepared fighters out into the field only to have to knock on their loved one’s doors and deliver the news that unfortunately their daughter had died. Rolling his shoulders as he settled himself for a defensive fight, Kingsley watched her body language with interest. He felt her need to prove herself, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Deflecting her charm with a lazy flick of his wand, Kingsley sent back his own disarming charm. “Disarm me any way you can – assume your opponent will defend with the intent to attack. Next time, I will defend with jinxes."

Aurora was slightly nervous meeting with Kingsley. There was an intimidation that seemed to linger in the air and this need to make a good impression. It was important to show him that she was capable of taking care of herself, so that he would tell Edgar it was fine sending her back out on missions. "I know better than showing up late." Not that she would anyway, being prompt was one of her traits. Her eyes widen when he asks her to disarm him, glancing around where she could feel the magic of the charms surrounding them. Her wand secure in her grasp. She raises her arm, her gaze fixating on his wand. "Expelliarmus." She speaks clearly and sternly, flicking her wrist in the direction of where he is holding his wand.

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.

(cw: brief mentions of child abuse) "To know me is to hate me, is to hate what I've become."

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Regulus Arcturus Black NICKNAMES: Reg, Reggie. AGE: 21 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black FATHER: Orion Black SIBLINGS: Sirius Black (estranged)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Timothee Chalamet BUILD: Slender. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: The Dark Mark on his left arm. No other anomalies - the male heirs to the House of Black had to be perfect (meaning, his parents always ensured any marks were healed once the lesson had set in). SCENT: Expensive aftershave, sandalwood shampoo. ACCENT: English southern upper class ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Regulus lives fairly exclusively in black. NERVOUS TICS: Leg bouncing when he's trying to think, wand twirling between his fingers.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Small terraced house in Mould-on-the-Wold, alone. BORN:  12 Grimmauld Place RAISED:  12 Grimmauld Place PETS: Tawny Owl that Regulus has had since his first year at Hogwarts, named Apollo.

CAREER: Unspeakable in Training EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters

DRUGS: Occasionally SMOKES: Regulus started smoking cigarettes shortly after leaving Hogwarts. If that coincides with the time that he took the Dark Mark, then that's merely a coincidence. ALCOHOL: Regulus does drink alcohol. Regulus is quite fond of a muggle whiskey that he tried once, though he would never dare to confess that to his family. DIET: Varied, but very rich.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Latin.

FEARS: Regulus has claustrophobia, drilled into him when his mother would fly into a rage and lock him into a closet as punishment until Reg begged for forgiveness for whatever misdemeanour he had committed. Regulus is also terrified of being left behind whilst the rest of his family and friends move forwards with their lives. He's scared that he is too much for people, that he has too much baggage and nobody can manage it adequately. HOBBIES: Quidditch/flying, reading, wizards chess.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The front room of his home, the first place he has ever felt truly comfortable in. He enjoys curling up in front of a roaring fire and settling down with a good book. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps GAME: Wizards chess. FOOD: A comforting beef stew with dumplings. BEVERAGE: A good cup of tea. COLOR: Black.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 12 and three quarter inches, Cypress wood, Dragon Heartstring core, supple. AMORTENTIA: Burning candles, roasted garlic, spices, the air just after a heavy rainstorm. PATRONUS: Regulus is unable to cast a patronus. BOGGART: Himself. Regulus is terrified of people seeing him the way he sees himself - broken, selfish, alone.

Bio:

Regulus is the second child born to Orion and Walburga Black. From a young age, it was drilled into Regulus that they were special - their family were ancient and noble, and better than even other purebloods. All Regulus ever wanted was the approval of his parents and his brother, and so he would do anything to keep himself in their good graces. He dutifully listened to his mother's droning lectures about their self-importance and took as much of it as he could on board, desperate to keep his mother happy. There was nothing more important than family loyalty, this much was clear to Regulus.

Regulus remembers tearfully saying goodbye to Sirius on Platform 9 and 3/4s when Sirius went to Hogwarts for the first time. His mother had clipped him around the ear for that, telling him firmly that boys didn't cry. The news that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor hit Grimmauld Place with an impact no less than if a bomb had gone off, and Regulus knew then that he would beg and plead with the sorting hat to put him in Slytherin even if it wasn't right. He couldn't let his parents down, not when Sirius had. One of the Black boys had to uphold family tradition, and his big brother had passed that mantle onto Reggie's small shoulders.

He needn't have worried for when it was his turn to go to Hogwarts a year later the sorting hat had barely touched his head before it yelled Slytherin loudly, and Regulus slept comfortably that evening knowing his parents would be proud. Regulus found a comfortable rhythm at Hogwarts and found his way to the top of several classes, and he found a group of Slytherin friends that he fit in with (much to his brother's dismay). Regulus loved learning and he especially loved magical theory, fascinated by the way things work. When it came time for his career conversation with the head of house, Regulus expressed some interest in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. He wanted to know more about their world and the way things worked.

His family were aligned with the Dark Lord long before Regulus had left Hogwarts, so it was no surprise to him that his mother suggested strongly that he offer himself into the Dark Lord's service. Having fallen in with a crowd of future Death Eaters at Hogwarts, Regulus had found himself admiring the Dark Lord and his magical skill. He took the Dark Mark at age sixteen and when he returned home that evening, he didn't think he'd ever seen more pride shining on his parents faces.

Now, war is ongoing and Regulus is starting to have second thoughts about his allegiances. He sees the torture and mutilation that is happening in the Dark Lord's service, and he's uncertain that he wants to be associated with such blatant cruelty. His uncertainties are kept close to his chest, terrified of what might happen if he ever confessed to his doubts. He wonders if his brother might harbour him if he ever fled the Death Eaters, or if Sirius would turn his back on him forever. He wonders if it's even possible to leave the service of the Dark Lord, or whether his cousin might hunt him down and torture him for his disloyalty. Regulus lies awake most nights pondering the future, and wondering if he made the right call.

There was something in the woman's gaze that indicated that the hardness of her expression was personal and yet Fenrir couldn't say he'd ever seen her before. That didn't mean that they'd never crossed paths, of course, but she was entirely unmemorable if that was the case. Shrugging at her sharpness, Fenrir rolled his eyes. "If you don't want anything from me, perhaps you could stop trying to crucio me with your eyes. At least do it properly."

If there was anyone she wished to cause immediate harm to, it was the one standing in front of her, what he did to Remus with no regard, she wanted to bring him to his knees. He had no idea who she was, but she knew plenty about him. And, she didn't like him. "No, I don't want anything from you." She replied more sharply than she would ever dare. Aurora was done waiting for who wanted this parchment, standing up.

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."

Regulus's gaze fixed upon Frank with a curious eye, before he shook his head. "Whether I was in the shop first is irrelevant...if you were at the shelf first, that's what's most important. You'd be entitled to take whatever you need," he said, it making absolute sense in his mind. "A bit of a grump...not a huge grump, but a bit. I'll take it. Better than being known for being a miserable bastard," he said, lips curling into a brief grin.

"Oh, well now when I go home I'm going to have to sit and think about future code names. Leo is too obvious, he'd know it was me immediately."

"Maybe, but if you were here first you deserve some as well, don't you think?" Maybe he ought to try and talk with Regulus more often, this really was a fascinating conversation. "Only a bit of a grump though. Everyone has to work at politeness anyways. It's a learned skill. You could definitely do it.

"Why not both? Go fully under cover. Give yourself a code name. Could be a bit amusing, honestly."

There was something to be said about a mental block affecting magic, and Regulus privately wondered how much research had been done on this topic. He had performed unforgivable curses before, and yet the more confused he got about his place in the world, the harder the curses were to cast. He had always been the spare, but he felt that Sirius would've been better at all of this than he was - if only his older brother wasn't a coward who had chosen to leave him behind. It frustrated him that his personal turmoil was having such an effect on his magic, but the deepening frustration was akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Regulus had been both the attacker and the victim when it came to the imperio curse, and the peace on Rabastan's face was a feeling that he knew all too well. An all-encompassing peace where he felt like nothing could go wrong. His parents were fast and loose with the use of unforgivables in the home, and Regulus had found himself at the end of his father's wand on more than one occasion. Watching his mentor pirouetting made Regulus snort in amusement, and he knew he'd made the right choice in action. "I think you'd make a wonderful ballerina...we should get you some shoes, and a little tutu," he chuckled, his eyes full of mirth.

Whilst still laughing, Regulus subtly twisted the wand at his side and cast "imperio" once again, hardly giving Rabastan a moment to recover. This time he put all of his effort into willing Rabastan to surrender his wand to Regulus.

Rabastan thought nothing of Regulus's inability. The younger wizard was capable and keen. He had no doubt that he would master his challenges soon enough, and he understood that personal circumstances could affect one's efficiency. He did not approve of permitting emotions to cloud efforts, but not everyone could discard them as stoically as himself.

The spell washed over him. Sweet ecstasy pervaded his mind with the type of addictive peace that could be oh-so tempting to indulge. This curse brought no pain, but its potency should not be underestimated. There were worse things than agony. The Imperius was like a siren's call, summoning its victim to their untimely demise with nothing but exquisite calm. It felt almost like a warmth and he did not resist, having no desire to throw the spell aside. He had wanted to see what Regulus could do, so his mind was open and his heart felt freely.

Executing the pirouettes with a skill he definitely did not normally possess, he suddenly snorted, disturbing the spell by thinking of how ridiculous he must have appeared. It broke the curse, and for a moment he wobbled one one leg, losing all of his non-existing balletic expertise while loudly laughing.

"I'm sorry, Regulus," he wheezed, straightening up and staring at the other wizard. "That was very good, but I suddenly realised how stupid I must look."

Whether the Wyvern was a dive bar or not, Fenrir took pride in his work. He wouldn't serve standard pub grub just because that was what was expected, like the shit that they served at the Leaky. He worked hard at the small menu they offered, and all of the kitchen staff knew how to make each dish. Being called out of the kitchen his natural assumption was that it was to be a question about the food, so when the blonde woman started talking about how to reach him, Fenrir straightened his spine and mentally prepared for whatever was coming next. "I don't mind. It's my job after all, to be available for questions. Thanks," he accepted the praise, tone full of curiosity as to whatever was happening here.

Fenrir reached for the proffered clothing, eyeing it with an analytical gaze. "Protection you say? What sort of protection does it offer?" he asked, his gaze darting to the tables either side to ensure they weren't being watched. "I assume you know my name, Leta, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he said, loathe to introduce himself unless absolutely necessary. He shook her hand firmly, before he turned his attention back to the clothing. "Do I owe you for this?"

Whether it would seem silly to the one in question or not, Leta felt a visit was long overdue. The White Wyvern was a place the witch could be found only rarely, when occasion would strike. It was convenient such a moment had come; the blonde had found her way there. In fact, for the first time she’d even tried the food there. Somehow the establishment had always given the impression of being a simple place, more for the drinking type than those wishing to dine. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you out here, but I’m not entirely sure how to reach you.” Of course, Leta could have sent an owl. That seemed too harsh, impersonal. “First of all, since it seems rude otherwise. The food was nice.”

Slender hands reached to take a quick sip of the wine in front of her. “That aside, I came to give you this. Whether you wish to use it is entirely up to you.” It was simple clothing. Not the usual cloaks she’d have handed other death eaters. Given that she wasn’t all that familiar with the one in front of her, it seemed like the most basic of things. “I have made these for all that have joined. Simple protection against the unwanted.” The former Slytherin could only hope it would make sense to the one in front of her. “Oh, Leta Rosier. I work at Madam Malkin’s. If I feel like it.” Wasn’t that the truth. Dedicated, yet growing more and more accustomed to just working in her own workshop. The blonde offered her hand. Least she could do. - @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."

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.”