"I'd Be Perfectly Happy, I Think. I Have All The Friends That I Need, I Don't Need Any New Ones," Regulus

There was no more important job within the Order of the Phoenix than ensuring that everyone's skills were up to scratch, especially knowing that the Death Eaters would not pull their punches. Kingsley himself had a vicious scar on his ribs demonstrating their lack of conscience, and the Order would crumble if they were sending out people who were unprepared. He'd come straight to headquarters from a warm up run, dressed in a black muscle vest and some grey shorts. "Morning Aurora. Thank you for arriving so promptly," he noted, reaching for his wand. "Today, we'll start small. I want you to try and disarm me however you can. I will act defensively, and I've already cast cushioning charms around the room so feel free to really give me everything you've got. I'm ready when you are."

where: training room of Order hq who: @battle-scvrs

Aurora wasn't sure why she felt nervous. Her duelling skills were fine, but until Kingsley was satisfied with her abilities, she would be kept within the walls whilst everyone else was out making a difference. She pulled her hair up into a pony, dressed in a paire of tights and tank top, her robes in hand when she walked out on the mat to where he was standing.

"Hello Kingsley," a smile on her lips.

"Was it a particularly exciting vacation? If it was for your birthday, please tell me it was somewhere tropical like Indonesia. Don't tell me you went on a classic British holiday to the Costa-del-Sol and came back a changed man," Cassie snorted. "If you are buying, I'll take a glass of red. Whatever's most expensive."

where; leaky cauldron whom; open

"You go on one fucking birthday vacation," Nick grouched, almost close enough to good-natured to pass as friendly, "And it's like everyone forgets you exist. Come on, catch me up. What did I miss? Don't make me buy you a drink to pry news out of you."

"It's what?" Regulus said haughtily, tilting his head slightly in question. A smug smile of victory tugged at his lips as James disappeared, and he returned to browsing in peace. Said peace was quickly broken by the reappearance of Potter, and Regulus sighed deeply. "Oh...that would be a shame wouldn't it. How desperately do you need it?" Regulus asked, stepping a little closer to James as he narrowed his eyes before he turned back to the shelf. A wave of pettiness washed over him, and he began placing all of the vials of Jewelweed into his basket. "I'm brewing a lot of potions at the moment, you see," he said, with an air of nonchalance. "Maybe I'll buy up Diagon Alley's stock of pyjamas too, and then I'll start owling you a pair of pyjamas every day until you can hardly move for pyjamas."

"Regulus, that's ––-" James paused and looked at him for a moment. A hand went to ruffle his hair. "Alright, then. Whatever you want," he said, and, with a sigh, he slinked away. Inevitably, he returned moments later. "They said everything that's in stock is already out on the shelves. So if you want to buy everything here, which... I mean, you were here first. You're entitled to do so. But just know you'd be hoarding all the Jewelweed supply in London." All James heard was that he was on Regulus' mind. Why was that thought making his heart beat a little faster in his chest? He told himself to relax. "I assumed as much. We're in a potions shop, after all. Didn't think you were looking for a new pair of pyjamas."

Deciding that by now neither of them was going to leave in a fury, Regulus finally threw himself back down into the chair he'd occupied before James' entrance. Reaching for the bottle again, Regulus took one last swig before he banished the bottle. With narrowed eyes, Reg pointed his wand at James' head before letting harmless sparks flash from the end. "If I obliviated you, Sirius would kill me. I don't need to give another relative a reason to murder me," he muttered, falling back on his brother as if that was the only reason why he didn't want to physically harm James Potter - even after everything. With curious gaze, Regulus saw the way that his words seemed to land and he cursed his big mouth for speaking before he'd thought it through. Still, it hurt. The situation was a nightmare, and no amount of Regulus pulling his punches would change that. "I reckon its my Uncle Alphard. He would think this was bloody funny," Regulus chose not to acknowledge James saying he deserved it. Maybe he did...but hadn't he suffered enough already?

Regulus crossed his arms to hide the shaking of his hands, shrinking back into the chair further. "You know who I'm disappointing James. You...you took my brother in when he left us, and it was me that was left to pick up the pieces, me that was left with the violent fall out, me that had to shoulder the responsibilities - the last male heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I think it will be worse this time, when it all comes out. Sirius and Andromeda was bad enough, shameful even, but for them to lose me when they had me marked and fighting for their side? It's unforgivable. They're my family, and I love them. I still love them, I will love every single one of them until the day that this war kills me. This choice will kill me, it's just a matter of...I don't know, trying to give your Order an edge before it does. I don't hold any false pretences about a life after the war is over...I'm not even sure I'll make it to the end of the war."

Taking a deep breath as James spoke, Regulus couldn't hold his gaze as he spoke of courage and bravery. Reg wasn't sure he had a single ounce of bravery in his body, not really. He was tired of his whole life feeling like a struggle. "I'm tired, James. I'm tired of feeling like I'm never enough, that I'm not good enough for anything, that I don't live up to expectations. This war has broken me in half, and I'm not sure there's much left to piece back together. But I will do my best, for as long as I can. And if by some miracle I'm still alive when the war ends...well, I'll figure out how to live, I suppose," he breathed. "I'll let you. It's easier, I suppose, having someone who knows how I can be. Less awkward than someone new trying to figure me out."

James knew instinctively what he meant. He understood that this was his way of having some sort of control in a situation that was spinning out of it right in front of them, and he nodded. Nobody did like wet socks. Just like nobody wanted to be protected by their... whatever they had been to each other. "I'm not normally a gambling man, but with you, I'll take my chances. Fire away," he shrugged indifferently. In the current climate, it was hard to be sure of much, but one thing James Potter did feel sure of was that Regulus Black wouldn't hurt him. Not like that, anyway. Words were something else entirely, and he'd felt all of them acutely as they landed in his chest, piercing new holes where previous ones had been starting to heal. "He's outdone himself," he agreed. "I s'pose someone's up there's laughing down at us. Thinks this is all some big joke. I think I deserve it, really, after all the pranks I've pulled. You probably deserve it, too, Reg. No offence."

Compassion filled him as he listened to Regulus speak, and James visibly softened. "I don't think I'm the hero here, unfortunately. I was asked to do this." This must be so difficult for him. It was almost like looking in Sirius' eyes when they were sixteen, though he didn't dare say this aloud. "Who could you possibly be disappointing,” James frowned, voice gentle, “by doing the right thing?" It was a rhetorical question; they both knew the answer. At long last, he sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh. "I don't want to be let out of it. Unless you want me gone, which I would understand. I can speak to Edgar to say I can't do it." His gaze, which had been fixated on his hands on the table in front of him, now went to meet Regulus'. "When I was asked to protect you – well, the double agent – I thought… Damn. Whoever it is must be so brave. It'd be an honour to protect someone like that. You may have ended up as far as you did because that was what was expected of you, but this choice that you've made... your conscience winning, despite everything you've been told your whole life, takes so much courage. I still stand by what I said. It'd be an honour, and I'll do it gladly, if you'll let me." He felt as if there was no air left in his lungs, as if it’d been punched out of him.

"I hear you've been put on bed rest...or, I suppose, the Death Eater equivalent," Reg called through the halls of Rabastan's townhouse, trying to locate his friend. "Does the Dark Lord offer maternity leave too?" his voice was tinged with amusement, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. He wasn't sure how it all worked - not that Regulus was likely to be getting anyone pregnant anytime soon, but seeing his cousin with Nymphadora recently had raised some questions about how children would be raised in service of the Dark Lord. He supposed it wasn't too different to his own very strict upbringing, but he wondered how long the children would get to grow before they had to pledge themselves.

Rounding the corner to the sitting room, Reg set eyes on Alecto and shot her a grin before flopping onto her couch. "I can get Kreacher to knit a lovely little sweater for the kids." @alectocarrowx

Regulus was not built for crowds. Well, that was partially a lie - he could cope with crowds at pureblooded society events, where he only had to show his face for a small while before he could retreat into a quieter room with a book. Navigating festive crowds including people who would simply stop in the middle of the road and cut his stride short? Very different.

He was hoping the apothecary would be a little quieter, given they weren't known for selling gifts, but there were people who were stocking up amongst their other shopping. Having carved out a space in front of a shelf, Regulus was determined to remain unmoved even as a woman stumbled into him. His hand shot out to help steady her, even as his lips curled with disapproval. "That's okay," he muttered, hoping the woman would leave him alone now.

Clearly, his face didn't look nearly as unwelcoming as he hoped and he frowned. "This one?" Reaching for the bottle, Regulus eyed the contents curiously. "If you were to add a handful of Gurdyroot to this I think it would make the potion a bit stronger."

You could certainly tell that the festive period was fast approaching, she had never seen so many people crowding together down the small alley way. She had only to quickly go into the Apothecary before heading home. This was always one of the busiest times at the bakery, people wanting orders ready for their own festive activates. She had managed to slip in with ease, though the shop it self, was also busy. Many stocking up, ready to tackle those winter illnesses that always seemed to come.

"Shit" she mumbled, seeing the exact bottle that she needed. Elbows of others forcing him to stumble into the man next to her. "Sorry, lost my footing." she apologised.

"Though, any chance you could simply past the purple bottle over there. That is all i need to sort this headache of mine, and It seems as always, I am too short to reach the damn thing."

Regulus sometimes felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure what to do with that feeling. It wasn't as if there was anything he could put down to make it easier - he enjoyed his job, so he was hesitant to let go of his work. He could hardly step away from the cause that he had pledged his life to, and since Sirius had turned his back on their family, his parents had doubled down on ensuring that Regulus stayed on the right path. Their focus was stifling, and it had hardly lessened since Regulus moved out to live alone. All he could do was his best, and Regulus was terrified that his best wasn't good enough.

Enter Rabastan, a mentor Regulus had turned to when his eldest cousin's attention became too much. He was grateful, truly, and yet Regulus knew that he shouldn't need extra tuition to be able to cast an unforgivable. He was the male heir to the House of Black, and he couldn't cast an unforgivable without his stomach churning...it was pathetic, and he knew it. "Yes, the imperius curse...I've never managed to do it strongly before," he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. He nodded at the instruction, and he could almost hear his mother's high pitched voice shrieking that he had to mean it.

Summoning the anger and anxiety that was always simmering beneath the surface of his emotions, Regulus turned his wand towards Rabastan. "Imperio," Regulus cursed, willing Rabastan to do some ballet pirouettes.

Rabastan liked the youngest Black. It had been with an unusual generosity that he'd taken Regulus under his wing when he'd joined the Death Eaters. There was something akin to recognition in the act. He'd seen something in Regulus that resonated. Perhaps it was his position as the second son of a noble house, and the weighty expectation that came with that status. Rabastan did not think on it. He was merely willing to give Regulus his time.

He had of course set the enchantments already. But rather than extinguish the other wizard's enthusiasm, he permitted him to add his own spells to the mix, watching all the while and judging his choices. He approved. Regulus was cautious and thorough.

"You'll learn," he replied, stepping closer. A smile drifted his lips fleetingly, fading as quickly as the breeze that passed through the glade where they stood. There was no need for a mask, here. Nothing would get through the spells without him knowing about it in good time. "So, the Imperius Curse? Cast it on me first. Let me see what you can do." Then he slowly grinned, wickedly and full of mirth. "Just don't make me do anything too absurd."

Quirking his eyebrow at the mention of a birthday party, Fenrir mentally ran through his schedule. "I'm currently working Monday through Thursday, then Sunday. For the right price I might be able to make an adjustment and come in on Saturday," he added, thinking of the upcoming festive season. "What are you thinking? Full menu, or buffet style?"

"I wanted to know your availability for the next week. I wanted to discuss throwing a birthday party for my brother Emmett." He owned the tattoo shop right next to the White Wyvern so Emma thought this would be the perfect location. And now that her wedding stress was over and Seth and her settled into married life, she thought it came time to host something and do something for her brother.

Cassandra took a sip of her drink before setting it down again, surveying Lucius with careful eyes. She knew of the other man's nature and could only imagine how protective he may grow over a child, particularly a son, and nodded as he spoke. "What healers is she seeing? Not the Mungos healers, surely? But whatever midwife Narcissa is seeing, have they said that the baby is progressing as standard? Morning sickness should start to subside as you get further into the second trimester, but she may start feeling very sore and tired. Something as simple as a back or shoulder massage might set her at ease, and might help with those mood swings...Are your elves well versed in foods suitable for pregnant women?"

He knew there were others he could talk to, but there were only some he could trust. Cassie was one of them. "I know." He leaned back in his chair, nodding his head at her congratulating them. Lucius was waiting until they found out the sex of the baby, wishing for a boy to carrying the family name on. "She is about fifteen weeks." He had been counting, a calendar made. "Moody, sensitive with certain smells and food, some morning sickness. Seems to be getting better. I want to be better prepared. I come seeking your advice."

This was hell. It had to be. Some sort of sick, karmic punishment for all the harm Regulus had done. Didn't the Gods, or whatever powers may be, know that Regulus was trying to do better? Instead they offered him James fucking Potter, who was once again here to be the hero. James' stunned silence followed by the closing of his eyes led to a brief flush of relief through Regulus' bones as he thought James was about to apparate away, back to wherever Order headquarters might be and with them Edgar Bones and his stupid ideas of protection. That relief quickly died when James did not move, and Reg couldn’t help the roll of his eyes.

Blinking back at him, Regulus was aghast that James seemed most bothered about the beer. "It was getting into my socks," he said plainly. Nobody wanted wet socks, not even when faced with this situation. Taking another swig of firewhiskey for a bit of dutch courage, Regulus then settled the bottle onto the table before he gestured towards it, indicating James could take some if he wanted. "If I say no, will you forget this ever happened? Maybe you could just obliviate me right now and free us both from whatever funny business Edgar bloody Bones is doing," Reg said, staring furiously at the chair he'd been sat in as if that were the cause of all his problems. He remained rooted firmly in spot, and shrugged. "It might be hell. I think we're in hell."

If James had finished processing the scene in front of him, he did not look like it. Frozen to the spot, he didn't react – not to the clatter of the glass as it hit the table, not to the fervid string of words let out by Regulus. That all-too familiar ringing in his ears seemed to reverberate around the entire room, drowning everything else out, until it became so loud he had to close his eyes for a moment to stop the overstimulation. When he opened them again, he was still standing in the very same room at the Hog's Head. For some reason, he'd half-expected to be somewhere else. James realised Regulus must've said something to him, for all was suddenly quiet, waiting for a response.

"You cleaned up the beer?" It was the first thing he noticed. There was something oddly amusing about that. His weary eyes lingered on Regulus and the bottle that he was currently drinking from. What the fuck was happening right now? He'd never felt so confused in his life. Suddenly, he remembered why he was here, and snapped back to reality. "It's you? You're the double agent? What the ever-loving fuck, Reg?" He stared at him as if this would give him any sort of clarity. "I feel like I'm going mental. Is this a dream?"