Regardless Of The Way That This Might End, Fenrir Wanted To Give It A Shot. They'd Been Exclusive For

Since Sirius abandoned him, Regulus had felt his absence like a knife in his chest that he could never remove. It ached and it burned, but slowly over time the pain had dulled as time and distance stretched between them. It was ever present, but duller. Asking after Sirius when speaking to Andromeda had been the first time in a long time that he'd said his brother's name out loud, and that itself had shaken him. Seeing his brother in the flesh, cool and unbothered by his summons, threatened to rob Regulus of the very air in his lungs as that aching burn returned. "I'm sure they have their reasons," he said, eyeing the chair beside Sirius before he chose to remain stood stiffly. "You...you're no longer part of this family, the aurors should know to exclude you from this. Unless...it's not really to do with an heirloom at all," Regulus said, wondering if any of Sirius' perfectly good friends were aurors.

Sirius leaned back lazily in his chair, the perfect image of indifference as he crossed one ankle over the other. Despite his display of ease and disinterest, he was observant and watchful, curious what he was called he for and on alert in case it was all more than it seemed. He couldn't fathom what Black artefact would be drawn back to him, well aware his mother would do anything she could to stop him getting his hands on any Black heirlooms. He glanced behind him as the door opened, carefully hiding his surprise as his brother walked in the door. "The same reason you're here, I'd imagine. Though if you're here I'm not sure why they've asked me to come."

(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.

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.

Reg's shoulders tensed at Alecto's expression, almost curling in on himself to prepare for the agony that he felt was incoming. It wouldn't be the first time someone he liked and trusted had used the cruciatus on him, nor would it be the last. The pain didn't come though, and slowly the tension left his muscles. Nodding at her word of caution, Reg shot her a small grin - one of fondness, not of teasing. "Lesson learned. Don't poke the bear."

"I think if you were to turn me into some sort of other creature that might please my parents more than the person I am currently," he muttered, bitterness seeping into his tone. "I wouldn't mind tea if the elves can prepare a pot."

Her eyes narrow at him when he starts to mimic knitting, tempted to send a wave of pain throughout his body in warning, letting the thought fade when he lifted his hands up in surrender. He was family in a sense and wished to keep the little of the Black's that were left, close. "I am going to let you speak, be wise what you say." Her hand waves to remove the spell.

"I am not in the mood for trying my patience. Let's have a visit that won't have you turned into a vile creature." That was pregnant Alecto being nice. "Did you wish for something to drink?"

Edgar remaining seated was an indication that all of the power lay with him at the moment, while Regulus stood before him like a naughty child. Still, he would not sit - it was far too casual while he was being questioned on such matters. He stared down at Edgar, his jaw set firmly as he considered the man's words. Clearly, they did believe they had enough evidence to link the heirloom and it's recent use to Regulus, otherwise he wouldn't be called back.

But if that were the case, why was he here instead of simply being arrested and carted off to Azkaban?

"Mr Bones, I appreciate that you yourself have not been raised with strict, ancient family values. I know what is required of me, and that has shaped who I am. My words, and what is required by my parents, are one and the same. There used to be two boys to share the burden between our demanding parents, now there is only one...I manage as I must," Regulus said, his tone sharp. Those who had been raised outside of a Sacred Twenty-Eight upbringing could never hope to understand the demands and pressures that their parents put on them. "I'm not sure what my conscience has to do with this, Mr Bones," he said, though his eyebrows furrowed as Edgar mentioned his internal conflict that had grown so loud he could almost hear it roaring in his ears.

Staring silently at the photo of himself and Sirius, Regulus shook his head. "Sirius made his choice. He chose his friends, and he left me behind...he left me. He knew what our parents would do to me, and he left me anyway. He left me to rot," he said bitterly, though he reached for the photograph anyway. "Your idea of family, and my own idea of family, they differ. I have nobody, Mr Bones. I am alone in this world - and if I wanted to run to Sirius, I couldn't. I don't know where my own brother lives."

Frowning once again at Edgar's offer, Regulus paused. He'd been gearing up to leave, but the offer seemed genuine. There was another beat of silence, before Regulus finally took a seat. In a very quiet voice, he asked "what protection could you offer me against the Dark Lord? People do not simply leave the service of the Dark Lord. They serve, or they die. How can you guarantee protection, and safety?"

"And what would you ask in return? I take it this offer is not from the kindness of your heart."

"Stand if you must." Edgar did not care too much for what the boy did, there were more pressing matters at hand and he knew this situation had to be dealt with in a certain manner to work in their favour. He remained seated in his chair, hands clasped together in front of him.

Being meant with resistant was expected and he could appreciate how hard it appeared family ties were instilled in the boy, but that also would also aid his words. No matter how dire Regulus wished to keep his composure, there was always a truth written within the eyes.

"Were those your words, or words required of you?" A beat. "At times it can feel hard to free oneself of shackles so tightly encompassed around us. The weight of our conscience a constant struggle on what is right or wrong." Edgar leans back in his chair. "I see the conflict in your eyes Regulus." He was throwing all his cards out on the desk.

"Family doesn't force you to believe in what they want you to. A real family, they accept you for who you are." He pulled out a picture from underneath the one, a smaller one, of two boys together, one he had brought to him. "You have a brother who would accept you for who you are."

Edgar went to stand up, hands resting on top of the desk. "If you have nothing more to share, then I will not hold you." A pause. "But what I can offer you, if you decide to do the right thing, is protection outside of these walls, not within the ministry." Half of the people he didn't trust. "And I have a feeling you know what I mean."

" i know i will be dead long before you read this but i want you to know that it was i who discovered your secret. "

—REGULUS A. BLACK

When the owl landed on his desk with a letter from Rosmerta to say that she had closed the deal on the Three Broomsticks, Kingsley immediately sent one back to say he'd be there as soon as his shift finished to celebrate with her. The next few hours felt like they were dragging which was a feeling Kingsley rarely had at work given how much he loved his job, but he ached to go and celebrate with his friend. As soon as he could, Kingsley disapparated to Hogsmeade where it had already started to get dark out. Ducking into the Hogs Head first, Kingsley had to throw down a few extra knuts down to get the 'beef' stew to take out. Casting a warming charm to keep it hot as he made his way back up the high street, Kingsley strode up to the door of the Three Broomsticks and nudged it open with his foot.

Setting the tubs of food down on the nearest table, Kingsley's eyes searched Rosmerta's before he beamed at her. "You, my brilliant friend, are the only person on this Earth that I would risk my life for by eating Aberforth's stew. Come here, I'm so proud of you," he said, drawing his friend into a hug. @ofxsorcery

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."

There was a saying that Regulus perhaps should have remembered upon entry to the Lestrange household, and that was 'don't poke the bear'. Upon seeing Alecto's eyes, it was fairly clear to him that his humour and general wit was not welcome here presently, and he shot her a wide grin. It would intimidate him if not for the fact he knew he held a soft spot in her dark heart, and his parents had trained him to be able to take a beating. He mimed as if he was knitting to her, before holding his hands up in surrender. 'Sorry,' he mouthed, trying to school his features to look somewhat sheepish.

Despite being a little shit, Regulus didn't want to truly piss off one of the few people that was still in his corner.

An owl had been sent earlier to warn her of his appearance. She was inclined to send one back refusing his visit, but with being home from Hogwarts for the weekend, and no use of her needed for the cause at the moment, his presence wasn't entirely horrid.

Each word that uttered from his incompetent mouth ignited a fire inside of her, her fingers itching to wring his neck for being so insolent. Eyes narrowed like daggers at the young Black wizard, her wand in a close hand, where she pointed it at him. "Silencio" A single word held him tight lip. Alecto turns to face him. "It appears Regulus Black, you have forgotten your manners and who I am." A coldness to her tone, not unusual for her. "Do not make me regret allowing you over." She warns, taking a deep breath. "If I let you speak, will you behave? I will not hold back from torturing you if you try me."

With each passing day, Regulus could no longer deny the growing feeling of resentment that he felt. He felt like a pawn being moved about on a chessboard by different players, all with little care for his feelings or wellbeing. Theoretically, Regulus knew that there were people who cared for him...but the way that seemed to manifest was driving him further away. He had never been quite so lonely in all of his life, and he feared that if he disappeared the next day nobody would know to look for him for some time. Something had to change, but he was in too deep. He'd been in too deep since his mother had frogmarched him in front of the Dark Lord and practically held his arm still for the mark to be burned into him.

His posture was rigid, but Regulus kept one hand in his pocket where his wand lay. He was certain that this office was warded and full of protective charms that would work in Edgar's favour, but if things were to turn nasty he wanted to at least give himself a fighting chance to escape. "I would prefer to stand, thank you," Regulus said, standing just behind the empty chair. "I thought the matter from the other day was settled, I'm not sure what further questions there are to be asked."

Eyeing the photo of the Black family heirloom that Edgar was showing him, Regulus summoned every inch of pureblooded training that his parents had painstakingly instilled in him to keep his expression clear. "I spoke freely and of my own accord last time. I swore to the truth of my words. I'm sorry Mr Bones, but I can't assist you any further."

It was the look in the wizard's eyes from their initial meeting with both the Black brother's and he could tell there was something more, but it was going to take a little coaxing to bring it out. Sirius Black had proven himself within the order and there was this nagging feeling in the back of his head that perhaps the younger one, he could be an asset to how they could learn how to defeat the Dark Lord. This meeting could blown up in his face or it could be what they needed.

Edgar closed the door behind Regulus when he came into his office, a different ward of charms floating around them to conceal the room for ears that should not be listening. "Mr. Black, do have a seat." He gestured to the empty chair before moving around the desk to take his seat. "I had a few more questions and thought it was best if it was a conversation between the two of us." A pause. "I won't keep you too long. I understand how important your work is."

It has long been suspected that certain Black's were more than they appeared to be, aligning in an allegiance opposite of his. He pulled out pictures of the item that they were being questioned about last time. "I thought you might be more willing to talk freely about this."