Fenrir Continued Edging His Way Towards The Cottage, Keen Eye Assessing The Number Of Patrolling Agents

Christmas day had been entirely chaotic as he had thought it might be. Magnus was old enough now to be excited about their annual traditions, and Fen had spent the night in Nancy's spare room so that the three of them could be together as soon as Magnus woke up. That wake up call had been at 5am, with his excitable son not settling down for another few hours until Fenrir allowed him to open one small present because Santa had been. Magnus had been full of energy all morning, practically bouncing off the walls with Christmas spirit, until he finally settled down for a nap in the early afternoon after lunch.

On Magnus' first Christmas, Fenrir had sat down with Nancy and they'd decided that they would follow English traditions for Christmas but Fenrir still liked to add some Norwegian touches. As a family, they still celebrated Julaften but presents and the large lunch were saved for Christmas day itself. Magnus had his stocking on Christmas eve, and they had eaten traditional Norwegian food before Magnus went to bed to await Santa's arrival. He may no longer live in Norway, and potentially would never return, but he wanted his son to know the traditions of his heritage.

When Magnus went to sleep on the evening of Christmas day, Fenrir had bid Nancy goodnight and headed home. Entirely exhausted from two full days, Fenrir had sprawled out on his couch, an arm tossed lazily over his eyes. He had a brief power nap before the clock's chimes awoke him, and he had just a moment before Pandora arrived at their agreed time. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the witch. "Merry Christmas, Dora," he returned her kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup her cheek. "Magnus has been an absolute force of nature for two full days...it's such a joy to see him so happy. How was your day?"

where: his cottage when: christmas night who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback)

Pandora had spent the day with her family, trying to enjoy the time spent with them, but it was clear how she didn't fit in with them. She could appreciate that they seemed to focus on Octavius and how it was time for him to marry, and they spent time arguing over the idea of a potential arranged marriage. Most times she believed her parents would never bother with her, casting her off as a defect.

The day and dinner passed, finding herself making her way back home for her to pack for the night. Her night was planned. It was waiting for the time to come where she could be where she wanted to be.

When the clock struck eight, she moved from her desk, closing the notes she was working on. Her bag was at her side, reaching down to hold onto it, and that is when she apparated to his home, popping in the foyer.

It was the cracking of a fire that let her know where she could find him, making her way to the living room to find him sprawled on the couch. "Merry Christmas." Pandora sauntered over, instantly coming to lay her body on top of his, leaning down for a soft kiss. "I hope you had a good day."

If Fenrir were a different man, he might muse on the strings of fate that seemed to be drawing them together. He could dwell on the fact that many of their meetings had been entirely unplanned, that there were hundreds of areas of woodland in England and without discussion the pair of them seemed to end up in the same ones over and over again. But he was not a different man, and still he saw the relationship coming to an end eventually - either her family would grow bored of bothering Octavius and turn their attention to his witch, or Pandora would refuse to be turned into a wolf and so their relationship would draw to a close.

Fenrir shifted slightly so he could face Pandora properly, smacking a lazy kiss to her cheek. "I don't remember many happy Christmases. I remember them being magical when my mother was around, then when she was gone my father was just going through the motions. I want Magnus to know joy, I want him to feel wonder and delight when he thinks about Christmas. I want to be better for him than my father was for me," he said, the softness of the moment between them making him raw and vulnerable.

"Of course I have a gift for you," he said, setting his wand back on the side table once Pandora had plucked the box from the air. The small box contained a delicate chain with a crescent moon pendant - perhaps it was a little on the nose, but he wanted her to have something of him when they were apart. "You didn't have to get us anything, but thank you."

Pandora had spent time suppressing the feelings that she was developing for Fenrir. At times determined to keep distance between them, but in the end, it failed. She would find herself tucked away in the woods toying away her magic and he would appear. They were drawn to each other. "He should be spoiled rotten. It's the magic of Christmas. I loved it growing up." Then when she hit Hogwarts, things were different.

If she had only been daring enough to attempt a hex with her family, but there was this notion of how to conduct herself when she was around them. That the person Fenrir saw with him, smiling and free, it was different around her family. "I will have to remember that for next time."

There was a warmth that radiated off Fenrir when he held her close, in his arms she felt safe and cared for. "I would like to meet her too." She had no idea what the woman would think of her, but the way he described her, she came across has a strong independent werewolf.

He could have taken this conversation anywhere, part of her prepared for him to turn her down, but when he spoke about being hers for awhile, all doubt washed away. "I have been yours for awhile." This was shaping up to be one of the best Christmas' in a long time. "You have a gift for me?" Her body shifts, watching a present float towards them, reaching out for it. "What did you get me?" She starts to open it. "I have something for you and Magnus." It was something small.

"no one man should have all that power"

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Kingsley Nathaniel Shacklebolt NICKNAMES: Kings AGE: 29 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Yetunde 'Dea' Shacklebolt FATHER: Nathaniel Adewale Shacklebolt SIBLINGS: Sade Shacklebolt (younger sister)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Michael B Jordan BUILD: Tall and stocky. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Dark brown. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: A deep scar on the right side of his ribs from a battle injury that didn't heal fast enough. FASHION: Deep colours (dark green, royal purple, navy blue) in clothes that he can easily run and fight in. NERVOUS TICS: Twisting the rings that adorn his fingers.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Godric's Hollow BORN:  Shacklebolt Family Home RAISED:  Shacklebolt Family Home PETS: A black cat called Storm.

CAREER: Auror EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Order of the Phoenix

DRUGS: Never SMOKES: Occasionally after a long day at work ALCOHOL: Kingsley is fond of a rich red wine, or a smoky whiskey. DIET: Varied. Kingsley did try a vegetarian diet briefly, but quickly reverted back to his old ways.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish.

FEARS: Kingsley fears his sister and his nephew being used against him as the war grows darker. HOBBIES: Kingsley is almost always at work, but when he's not he enjoys wizard's chess and reading muggle books.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Ravenclaw. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 10 and one quarter inches, Ash wood, unicorn tail hair core, flexible. PATRONUS: Lynx. BOGGART: A dark version of himself, with the dark mark burned into his arm.

Bio:

From a very young age, Kingsley Shacklebolt began to feel a sense of difference. His parents introduced him to other magical purebloods his age, but Kingsley always felt like he was on the outside of it all, more content to sit under a tree and read than run around in the mud or zoom about on toy broomsticks. His parents raised him to be better, whispering ideologies of supremacy and otherness. What his parents didn't know is that Kingsley had befriended a local muggle boy, who was teaching Kingsley aspects of the world that his parents would never allow him to know.

The weight of being an eldest brother was something that settled comfortably on Kingsley's shoulders. Sade was always trailing around after him, but he didn't mind too much. They had a closeness that it seems their parents had underestimated, especially when the two of them banded together. Sade was only two years younger than himself, but he was determined that she would grow up to reject their parents prejudices the way that he had.

At Hogwarts, the sense of difference from his peers became quickly evident. His wandless magic as a child had been incredibly strong, and on one occasion Kingsley had been able to actively control the magic rather than it being guided by his emotions. His magical skill quickly developed in Ravenclaw house, and Kingsley found himself topping each class amongst the many extra-curriculars he engaged in. His power and skill did not go unnoticed, and some of his peers in Slytherin house had tried to recruit Kingsley to their pureblooded gangs. When it became evident that he was not interested in their ideas of supremacy, Kingsley found a target on his back more often than not and quickly rose defensively to meet whatever they would throw at him.

It seemed a natural step to Kingsley to put his magical proficiency to work to protect others. He had always had a strong notion of justice, and as he had grown into himself his morals had grown even firmer. His parents disapproved of his career choice, but Kingsley knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let his abilities go to waste knowing others were suffering. The auror trials were a breeze to a man of his skill, and before he knew it, Kingsley was out on the field.

His desperate need to stop the growing darkness in the world only grew more urgent with the arrival of his nephew. Kingsley fights for a world where his nephew can grow up safely, without fear for the future.

Bellatrix was more infuriating than his parents, at this point. Once he'd taken the mark and shown some initial devotion to the cause, his parents had backed off content in the knowledge that at least one son was doing the right thing. Without him being marked, Regulus would never have been allowed to move out of the family home, or take his job at the ministry which allowed him more freedom than he'd ever had. But Bella's care manifested in intense devotion, and he worried that he would never be able to get her to give up on this desire for him to be better than he was. All Regulus wanted to do was live his life in peace, and study the intricacies of magic at the Department of Mysteries. It would be a quiet life, but it was his - and that diverted from his family's view.

He was just thankful that they hadn't started pressuring him to take a wife and to continue the line.

Regulus knew his cruciatus would disappoint his cousin immeasurably. He had seen her wielding it on missions, and though he hated the curse, he had to admit that watching Bellatrix cast it was almost like an art form. Watching Bella lift her wand after his first poor attempt had panicked him, fearing that the curse was heading his way, and it was that panic along with his earlier fury that led to a slightly stronger second attempt though it was still poor.

His chest was heaving with the effort of casting even such a weak curse, sweat beading at his brow. "But I..." he trailed off, stopping himself. He had been about to say that he didn't love it, which was potentially the worst thing he could say in the presence of his cousin beyond confessing to his muggle-born lover. The rest of his thought was cut off as he stared down the end of his cousin's wand, pupils dilating in fear. He knew that he'd been poor, but he hadn't anticipated Bella torturing him for it. As red flashed, Regulus flinched away, shrinking into himself to try and protect himself from the inevitable pain. He could hear Bella laughing, and the sound sickened him. After a moment, he realised her curse had been directed elsewhere - and when he looked back at his cousin, there was something new in his gaze. The faintest hint of disgust, hidden behind the layers of fear.

"I don't need you to tell me it was poor, Bella. I know it," Regulus sneered, pushing away from the table as he stood. Thinking back on Rabastan's teaching Regulus dug into his confused emotions as he stared at his dishevelled cousin, and with his voice dripping with disgust he held his wand steady and cast "imperio." Tilting his head slightly, he went for the same command he had given Rabastan. It would upset Bella as much as it had upset Rabastan. "Your wand. Give me your wand."

Regulus was testing Bellatrix's patience. Truly, this was more demanding than any mission gifted to her by the Dark Lord. She could not torture the boy, and neither did she want to. She could barely manipulate him, since familial intimacy meant he knew her well. Force had not benefited her with Regulus and she felt that she was losing ground. It was a situation most perturbing and undeniably irksome. Her rage still lingered as he spoke reassuringly, her palms still splayed against the couch as though she were trying to ground herself. Yet even then, she managed to locate an ounce of pride, acknowledging that the boy did not give up easily. Regulus was proving to be a challenging project. He did want to learn and he respected the need to study magic further. She would give him that much. It was admirable despite his misplaced tutelage. Had she known that he had mastered Occulmency, she would have thought of him more highly. But she knew nothing of it.

"Very well." Arguing was going nowhere. She was growing tired and bored and frustrated. She wanted to move on. "As I promised, I will make no further demands after you show me your curses."

They were one curse down and she was looking forward to seeing his Cruciatus. By far her favourite of the Unforgiveables, Bellatrix wielded it with devastating adoration. Her skill with it was calamitous. It fed her sadism and brought her a high like nothing else. Nothing could compare - not sex, not drink, not even death itself. So when Regulus's spell danced from her dress without so much as even a feeble tickle, she sighed with dramatic disappointment and raised her wand to show him how it should be done. Fortunately for him, she hadn't expected his second attempt. It stunned her, crushing her back against the chair with something akin to an electric shock. Her shriek pierced the silence like a knife cutting silk, then she laughed wildly, gasping for air and sliding halfway down her chair as the spell receded.

There was pain. It did hurt. But not as it should. Regulus's spell lacked substance and finesse. Since her own wand had fallen to the ground, she reached down to retrieve it, her normally steadfast fingers trembling in the aftermath and her hair now askew at a tremendously jaunty angle.

"You didn't mean it, cousin. You need to want it. You need to love it." Wand now in hand, she directed it mercilessly between Regulus's eyes, wanting to see what emotions would reveal themselves in that flicker of an instant. Her breath was still ragged, her position still lopsided against the chair. Insane, some called her. But that was a lie told by fools and enemies. There was no madness within Bellatrix Lestrange. There was only pure, unadulterated awareness. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew that she adored it. With a slashing motion, she cast the curse at a portrait, the flashing red causing the illusion of blood as the picture's occupants screamed in horror. Their disarray clashed horribly with Bella's laughter, her mirth ringing true and bold with shamelessness. Even in her mildly weakened state, that curse would have been crippling. She would spare Regulus from a direct hit.

Slowly, she pushed back up into her seat and steadied herself. She wouldn't bother giving him an assessment. He knew it had been poor, but she supposed he'd tried his best. "Now the Imperius. You weakened me-" She paused, shrugged dismissively and wryly simpered, "well, sort of. But it should help you nonetheless. Let's see if I can resist."

At the end of it all the fundamental truth was that Fenrir would burn the rest of the world to keep Magnus and his extended family safe. He was grateful that almost everyone he cared about was within his pack where he could ensure their safety, and though this thing between himself and Pandora was still new he would protect her the same way he would protect any member of his pack. Holding her a little tighter, Fenrir made a noise of approval, brushing a kiss to her temple. "We can speak of my mother sometime, of her warmth and her joy. Not tonight...but Freya Greyback deserves to be remembered warmly."

"You never need to cook when I'm about," Fenrir assured her. It was a pure-blooded thing, he assumed, that they relied entirely on elves and refused to learn basic cooking skills themselves. Fenrir's years in the pack where he barely lifted a wand had honed his skills, both basic survival cooking and some of the finer aspects simply because he could. "I want to take you away somewhere. Somewhere that's just for us. Meet me here at dinner on New Years Eve, and we'll eat here and then head away."

Pandora truly believed that Fenrir would give his son the love that he never got from his father, a love she was certain her parents did not hold enough like the man in front of her did for his child. She showed a virtue that was important to the witch and she was certain that was one of the many things that captivated her. "Then we shall never speak of him again, because his memory will not longer live on." She would never bring up his name again.

A soft smile lingers on her lips, pleased that he appreciated her gift and she felt light knowing that she could protect them both in a way they needed. "The necklace is beautiful. I will treasure it always."

She let out a sigh of relief when Fenrir said he would do the cooking. "You really saved me there." There was a comfort that came with his touch, returning back to her position of laying beside him on the couch. "I would love to spend new years eve with you. I don't care where we go, or we can stay there. I want to spend it with you."

If it were anyone other than Alecto, the silence in return to his owl may have irritated Regulus. He was nothing if not meticulous with his life and his plans - he liked to have every minute of his day planned down to the second, and being left guessing whether his friend would appear at all didn't slot in with a well planned evening, yet Regulus could never truly be annoyed by Alecto. If he'd timed it better, he might've been able to get food on the table before Alecto appeared so she would have no reason to suspect it was made by anyone other than an elf. For now, all he could do was back track slightly. There were a few people who knew of Regulus' preference for muggle cooking, and he wasn't sure that Alecto wouldn't take that knowledge straight to his parents...or worse. Any hint of muggle sympathy was a risk these days, even if it was merely cooking. "Kreacher was here, he made the dinner but had to return to Grimmauld to prepare food for my parents...I'm only getting it out of the oven," he shrugged, grateful that he had cleaned up the rest of the dishes as he went along. "I'm glad I don't have to replace my owl. I was afraid that he was losing letters halfway along his journey."

Alecto had received an owl from Regulus, contemplating whether she should attend or not. No message would be returned, leaving the wizard in a state of guessing on if she would attend or not. It was with Rabastan busy with work that would keep him later than expected, that she decided that she would make the visit over to the youngest Black. Growing up together, he had been one that she was rather fond of, even more so with the departure of Sirius and Andromeda, knowing that it was important to keep him with on the right side of the cause. She would never admit her soft spot for him. Her nose wrinkled when he mentioned the kitchen, making her inside to witness his muggle ways. "Regulus," biting back a remark. "You did not have to do this for me." She would be more pleased to see the house elf doing the work.

Regulus was trying to balance too many spinning plates between his family duties, his duties to the war, his own misgivings, and the secrets he was trying to keep. He did not want to sit here under Bellatrix's beady eye, knowing he had disappointed her since he was a boy and that he continued to be an ever present reminder of what the Black family could have had, and that they were left with him instead. He had tried - nobody could say that he hadn't tried. Merlin, he'd torn his soul in two trying to be good enough. He'd cast curse after curse, he'd trained and trained, he had gone on plenty of successful missions - yet it had stained his soul until he was truly fit for the Black name. The pressure from all sides was drowning him, pouring down his throat and choking his airwaves. He couldn't continue like this, but he couldn't see another way out. He felt like there was only one way this ended for him, and it was a permanent closure to the story of Regulus Black.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Regulus kept his eyes trained on his cousin. He would not cower in front of Bellatrix, no matter the way his insides were twisting with anxiety and fear about what she may demand of him. He loved her, truly, he did. A large part of Regulus resisting against the conscience that had been gnawing at his soul for so long had been that he did not want to go the way of Andromeda, of Sirius. He did not want to lose Bella, or Cissa. Even his parents, twisted and awful though they were, Regulus would mourn the loss of them in his life. It was all he had ever known, and stepping out into a complete unknown terrified him. At his heart, he felt like a scared little boy. He did not want to lose his family.

Bella's silence at his outburst was chilling, and he made a noise of discontentment at the finger pointed in his direction. "The mission was successful. There was no need for Rabastan to update you on my abilities in the battlefield, that is gossip. I knew you were getting updates on me, nothing is ever fucking private in this family is it?" he spat, furious at both Bellatrix and his mentor. He bit his tongue rather than retorting at her correct assumption that he was trying to distract her. Snatching a biscuit from the tray, Regulus considered that he must truly look like a toddler throwing a tantrum, yet he couldn't bring himself to care as he ate the biscuit with a frown. "Bellatrix, there is no hidden game to my words. I do not want you to teach me," he asserted. "My best is avada. The other two are equally poor, though I would say my imperio is slightly better than my crucio. But I am working on those with Rabastan, and that is the way it will stay."

"I appreciate your offer, I do. I have told you this before, I appreciate...the care that it shows. But I am fine. I don't understand how I can say it more clearly, cousin. I do not want your help."

Bellatrix had loved Sirius. She had admired his spirit, laughing at the way he stuck a middle finger up at every stuffy rule and regulation. She'd valued the way he had never tried to cramp her into a box, labelling her like every other godforsaken male in their family. But he had been full of deceit. His betrayal had destroyed her. It had fuelled her rage and sent her spinning for the Dark Lord more brutally and determinedly than she had known possible. Even now, sitting here with Regulus, she couldn't help but see his brother's face and feel her skin crawling with latent ire. Revenge would be sweet - for Regulus, as much as for herself. She would lay down her life for her youngest cousin, though the fact that he didn't seem to value her devotion hurt. She refused to acknowledge it, focussing only on the fact that the rejection was because she was too intense. It was a selfless consideration for such an egocentric witch, though in large part inspired by her unwillingness to admit to her own weakness.

Not once did she cease her observations. Her eyes may have turned away, but she could feel Regulus squirming beside her despite his valiant attempts at holding composure. She was proud of that. He could wear a mask like the rest of them, painting a picture of noble strength and stoic integrity. So as he sat back casually, a smile snaked her lips, which curved indecorously behind the rim of her teacup. Placing it back onto the saucer, she slid it onto a side table and sat, staring unflinching at Regulus as he spoke. They were like a pair of statuettes, dark haired and pale skinned, the familial resemblance running as strong as the blood that fuelled their limbs. Little did she know the depth of Regulus's struggles. Long may she remain unaware, for it would not please her to kill him. She took pleasure in the devil's work, but that would cause her no satisfaction.

She listened to everything he had to say. Though she had a vested interest in his success - though she desired it tirelessly - she was clever and wily. She would not allow emotional instincts to drive her this time, knowing how he desired detachment - for whatever absurd reason. Not once did she move. Not until his voice sharpened with anger, inspiring yet another twist of approval through her porcelain skin. As the tea splattered across the saucer, she narrowed her eyes and considered him, waiting until his diatribe had ceased.

"You have pride, Regulus. Rightly so." Pointing a finger, her eyes expanded indicatively. "But don't let it come before a fall. There was no gossiping. It was a mission, there were updates, I was informed. Do not use my devotion to the Dark Lord as a way to distract me." She arched an eyebrow, stern despite the amusement that lightened her tone and curved her harsh lips. "Nice try but I'm not an idiot. I know what you're doing. Biscuit?" Flicking her wand, she hovered a tray towards her cousin, not thinking twice about combining a pleasant refreshment with this darker topic. As it floated between them, she picked up a ginger snap and studied it before taking a bite. "Which is your best Unforgiveable and which is your worst?"

Regulus Arcturus Black

Whatever Regulus had thought was going to happen when he had approached Edgar's office, he hadn't anticipated this. All of the emotion that he'd kept bottled up within him seemed to explode out, in a way that was entirely undignified of a pure-blooded heir. Still, he would not entirely break down in front of this man - no, he would save that for when he got home. He could feel it brewing within him, magical energy thrumming to escape his veins. "I wanted to be enough for them. I wanted them to be proud," he said, knowing that he had no family now that would be proud. He had done too much evil for Sirius to ever look at him with pride again, and his parents...well, if this ever came out, he would be surprised if they didn't kill him themselves. "I always tried to make it painless. I didn't like...I don't like the torture. It never sat right with me. It was always quick, and painless," he confessed quietly.

Reg scoffed quietly as Edgar continued to speak on his relationship with Sirius, and he shook his head. "I appreciate you can't weigh in, but I doubt Sirius will want to have that conversation with me. Why would he want his little brother hanging around again with all his baggage when he has his wonderful, perfect friends who do no wrong?" he said, a little childishly.

"That is one thing for you to say, sat there at your auror's desk. I appreciate you risk your life on a battlefield...but I have family who will kill me, if this comes out. Friends who won't take this betrayal lying down. This is a significant risk, Mr Bones. I am putting my life in your hands to feed you information...there is very little I am comfortable with now, but I will do it anyways. It may grow easier, but for now...I am betraying all I have ever known," he said quietly, the weight of his decision now settling on his shoulders.

"No names, not yet," he said quite abruptly. He would not betray his friends in such a manner, not so openly. "There will be a raid at the docks in Liverpool this coming Friday, several Death Eaters will be present...if you get there early, you may be able to lay anti-apparition wards when they arrive. Several important members of the muggle parliament are currently under the imperius curse, and are working to bury news of any muggles that go missing," he said, reaching for some parchment and a quill to write their names down. "I'm sure you already are, but keep an eye on the businesses down Knockturn Alley. Illegal artefacts are being sold there that are being used against muggles and mudbloods, and some heirlooms are being transformed into cursed objects...the Black artefact you showed me earlier is one of them."

The more he etched away at the cold exterior that surrounded the youngest Black, Edgar felt that there was hope from the darkness there were having a hard time coming out from. Since the incident with Frank Longbottom and his near death experience, a fuel lit underneath him and he was more determined to shift the scales in their favour. It took one word, genocide, that broke the young wizard and relief washed over him.

He sat there in silence and let Regulus unpack it all, allow him the opportunity to let it off his chest and talk through all that pained him. This only confirmed that the Black's were death eater's, though for now, he wished to keep that information to himself. "I think you knew from the beginning that you were not like them. That what they are doing was wrong and I understand why you would hang on like you did. Family is family, even if they are evil." He paused. "I will say killing from either side is not easy, the idea of taking a life, but sometimes in battle, it's about survival, and you do what needs to be done."

"I cannot speak for your brother on why he left the way he did. That is a conversation the two of you will need to have at some point." There could be tension between the brothers, but he knew Sirius, family was still family, even if they chose the right side a little later in life. "I will keep that in mind." He was not going to argue, them sorting it out was a bonus.

"At this point, with this war that is hanging in the distance, we have all signed our death warrant, it is a matter of what side do you want to be on when the inevitable happens." Edgar knew his position would have many eyes on him, paint him a target, but he was a man that fought for what was right, no matter the cost. "I would not ask you to do anything you were not comfortable with, but all I ask is if you have anything that could help us. We would gain some advantage with having someone on the inside, even for a little while." The last thing he would want was to put Regulus at risk.

"What do you know now? Names?" They could always start with names. "This would allow us to watch them, to know who might come after us." With enough evidence, they could be at least start building a case.

"Hey, look at me," Reg's voice was gentle as he reached to put his hand on Caradoc's cheek, stroking his thumb across his cheekbones. "Being interrogated may put your life in danger if they find out about us, so we need to prevent that. I will fight with you. Don't feel guilt about that, please...this is my choice. I knew the risks when I realised we were on opposing sides and we carried on anyways, and I know the risks even more now that I'm defecting. I might be a pretty poor Death Eater, but I can still hold my own in a fight. I don't want you worrying about me, or feeling guilty. We'll do this together, okay?" Reg said, knowing that Caradoc would continue to feel guilt but hoping to offset it somehow. He just hoped that Caradoc still felt their relationship was worth the added risk.

Shifting up onto the couch, Reg cast another quick diagnostic spell to ensure he hadn't missed anything drastic before he set his wand down on the side. He tucked his feet underneath himself, leaning his head gingerly against Caradoc's shoulder. "It's so strange to me that your parents have chosen ignorance over all of this. That they would rather be blind to the war, than take precautions. Muggle behaviours are....odd."

Caradoc squeezed his eyes shut. If Regulus’ cover was blown because of him . . . He could already feel the waves of guilt hitting him. That was more painful than any injury inflicted on him could be. “Only if you must. Only if my life is in danger. If it’s anything else, you need to stay with your cover. I can handle being hurt by them, or being interrogated. What I cannot handle is you suffering in an effort to save me.”

He opened his eyes again, grasping his boyfriend’s hands. There were probably a couple more healing spells he needed, but they could wait. He just wanted to spend time with Regulus and relax. Caradoc patted the space next to him. “Please?” He said. “I don’t want to think about the mission anymore.” Caradoc sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “Merlin, if my parents knew . . .” He laughed out loud. “I cannot imagine what they’d think.”