𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

Staring at Andromeda in a state of something almost akin to shell-shock, Regulus didn't quite know what to do with himself. Finishing his sugar quill quickly before stuffing his hands into his pocket, Regulus could practically hear his mother's shrill voice shrieking in his ear that he should take this opportunity to make Andromeda regret ever leaving them. He'd never had much of a taste for violence, especially not for an older cousin that he had once cared for...and he certainly couldn't bring himself to harm a child, even if that child was a half-blood with shocking green hair. The dark mark burned into his forearm was itching in her presence, a burning reminder of what ideologies he had signed his life away to...and yet, there was something that held him back.

He took a small step closer to them. In all these years, he'd never seen Nymphadora Tonks in person - he'd only heard the bitterness of his family's curses when the birth was announced, and if he'd spotted someone that looked vaguely like Andromeda in the past, he'd quickly turned and gone the other way like a coward. Not this time. With a quick glance to ensure there were no eyes watching them, Regulus nodded curtly towards the small child. "It's nice to meet you, Dora. Do you like sugar quills? I have another if your mother will allow it," he said, eyes drifting up to Andromeda. Maybe it was a poor imitation of a peace offering, or maybe he simply couldn't bring himself to be a dick to a small child that shared his blood. "It's been many years, Andromeda. I was beginning to think I might never see you again, privately or publicly. Do you...still see Sirius?" He asked rather pathetically, with the small voice of a boy that still ached at the loss of his big brother.

A day free from work at St Mungos was rather rare for Andromeda. She tended to work her usual hours along with more on top of it. However her bosses had decided it was necessary for her to take time off, lest she end up exhausted or sick due to neglecting her own needs. Most would have taken the opportunity to spend the day at home. She however had seen it as an opportunity to spend the day with her daughter in Diagon Alley. They’d just finished their ice cream at Floreans when Dora had begged to go and see the owls. Unable to say no, she’d held on to Dora as they made their way down the cobblestone street. While she knew Dora was capable of walking on her own, it made her nervous when her daughter was prone to change appearance at will. As seen by the way her daughter had already changed her hair to a brilliant shade of green to match the ice cream she’d just ate.

She didn’t know what made her look up from her daughter, only the sense of eyes on the two of them. She looked up and her eyes immediately found Regulus, her heart clenching in her chest. Years ago, she may have chosen to just leave, take Dora and head in the opposite direction. But she’d long ago refused to stop running. So instead she continued to guide Dora in that direction, her eyes not leaving her cousin. “Hello Regulus…” Perhaps he hated her like the rest of her family, but there was no knowing unless she tried. So she motioned to her daughter, running her fingers through her mess of green hair. “Dora….this is Regulus.” Her uncle, but she wasn’t prepared to use that title on someone who may not deserve it.

"Table three want to talk to the chef," had been yelled in Fenrir's general direction amongst the rest of the hustle and bustle of the kitchen by the bartender who disappeared almost as quickly as they'd appeared. "Fuck's sake...what now," he'd muttered to himself, wiping his hands against his chef's whites to make himself a little more presentable. Making his way out into the main room of The White Wyvern, Fenrir quirked an eyebrow at the person sat at table three. "I heard you wanted to speak to me, what can I help with?"

Regulus glanced back at Frank's basket again before plucking some ginger from the shelf and dropping it into the other man's basket. "I hear ginger's quite helpful for warding off sickness. Make her some teas or something," he offered, recalling from an advanced potions book he'd read a few years back. "Nothing like a screaming mandrake to ward off potential burglars," he said with a small smile, before the smile quickly vanished. "I think it might be too late to stop the passage of time...maybe I can study it though, at the ministry. See what I can do."

"It's gotta be a fake moustache...gotta commit, y'know. It can't be Regulus Black's shitty moustache. Maybe I should use a hair growth potion."

"Thanks," Frank said, sorting the ingredients to make sure he'd have enough for the few other things he had to pick up. "Now I'm definitely picking you up some other ingredients when I come back. I might plant a few for our apartment, they're good for security as well. Then I won't have to buy as many. Tell time to give you a break, you're too young for it to do so much damage."

He laughed before he could help himself, smothering his smile when the shopkeeper gave them both a confused look. "Well future Albert, it will be a pleasure to meet your mustachioed future self."

Regulus had hardly expected a response to his owl at all, never mind a positive response. He wouldn't have blamed Andromeda if she'd ignored him; Merlin only knew he'd treated her poorly in the past. His recent experiences had driven him to write a letter, and now he was expecting his estranged cousin at his home. He'd been pacing around his living room nervously for a while, wondering if she would actually show up and then wondering what he would say to her if she did. It'd been a long, long time since he'd been fully honest with someone, and he knew the danger that it put himself in. The feelings of discontentment and unhappiness had been building for a while, maybe even for years, and Regulus had finally been pushed to breaking point. The sound of a knock at the door broke Reg out of his musing, and with shaking hands he opened the front door. "You came...Here, come in out of the cold," he said, gesturing through to his living room. "Can I get you something to drink?" @tonksxandromeda

Timothée Chalamet for Rolling Stone magazine, December 2024

Reg had just been about to settle into sleep when the wards alerted him that someone was on his property. He was shirtless in bed, so he darted out of bed and grabbed the first shirt that he could see. It was haphazard between the shirt and his tartan pyjama bottoms, but if there was a threat outside, the last thing he wanted was to be shirtless. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes furiously, Reg slipped his feet into his slippers and quietly descended the stairs, wand outstretched.

Almost a minute had lapsed since the wards alerted him before there was a knock at the door. It almost soothed him - anyone with nefarious intentions wasn't likely to knock and announce their presence, but he was still on edge as he opened the door. The defensiveness running through his body quickly melted into worry as he opened the door a crack and took in the sight of Caradoc. "Merlin," he gasped out, opening the door fully. "Come in."

Stepping out into the cold, Reg wrapped his arm around Caradoc, helping him into the house. As they walked slowly through to the living room, Reg was waving his wand furiously, summoning all of the healing potions he had stored. "What happened?"

starter 002 for @battle-scvrs (regulus black)

location: regulus black’s manor

Honestly, Caradoc hadn’t even meant to apparate to his boyfriend’s house. When doing the spell, all that ran through his head was ‘warmth, comfort, home’ and he ended up here . . . Which he supposed was rather fitting. Even though he didn’t want Regulus to worry, he’d rather be here than his flat. Plus, along with the injuries he had incurred during the disastrous Order mission, he was pretty sure he had just splinched his leg a tiny bit. Glancing down, he saw a gash had ripped part of his pants. Well, damn.

Caradoc sighed, trying to erase the images of the mission from his head. They’d probably only show up in his nightmares later, which made him shudder. He slowly approached the manor, hoping that he wasn’t bothering Reg. A part of him thought that he should go home, but trying to apparate again didn’t sound like a good idea.

So, he knocked on the door, and also leaned against it while he waited for his boyfriend to answer. Even just seeing Reg would make him feel better, Caradoc knew. He’d only stay for a few minutes, he wouldn’t be a bother, he told himself.

Kingsley looked at his friend with a curious eye, wondering exactly what Edgar had been doing that day. "I'd like to tell you that you look wonderful, but my mother raised me not to tell lies," he smirked, knowing that the next time he came back from a mission bedraggled that Edgar would rake him over the coals. "Feels like each day is getting a little tougher, it's no wonder the bars are getting busier," he mused, his tone taking a more serious turn. "Ros is going to be raking it in."

Given the way their head auror had been badgering Kingsley for weeks to get his pile of paperwork sorted, he figured that they would be forgiving that Kings had disappeared half an hour early. Kingsley kept taking the night shifts anyways, he was due a little good grace. "Isn't it always?" he rolled his eyes fondly. His body language shifted at the mention of Sade, shoulders tightening and his easy-going expression morphing into one of concern. "She's....fine. You know what she wants, but I can't say I'm pleased about it. I'm worried for her, but equally, I won't stop her if that's what she decides. I've made my concerns known. We're both blood traitors, it's not like we're safe anyway...I just don't want her to put herself, or Jasper, at any unnecessary risk."

Edgar let out a chuckle, fingers combing through his hair, shaking his head. "I think I look the same I feel." He was looking forward to heading home after a drink to take a long shower. He had a few more days before Hestia would be moving in with him and he was trying not to have any regrets about it. This was the best for the both of them.

He knew they had a little more time before they should leave, but considering the amount of overtime he had put in recently, there should be no issue. "You won't hear me protesting." Both hands push into the armrests of the chair to stand up. "First round is on you though," the grins, heading towards the front door of their department. "How is your sister doing?" He knew Sade had asked for more involvement with the Order and wanted to talk to Kings about it.

"If you needed the whole stock, and you were here before me, then that's your right," Regulus said with a shrug. The whole thing seemed quite simple to him - he wasn't sure why it was so complicated for everyone else to understand. "I'm fairly well known for being a bit of a grump, Longbottom. Politeness to others is something I have to think quite hard about."

"Oh, I know the owner is avoiding me. Perhaps I should enter next time under a disillusionment charm, or indeed under some other disguise."

"But what if I had needed the stock that was there?" Frank asked, enjoying this debate. Regulus structured his arguments well and speaking with him wasn't nearly as frustrating as talking to Bellatrix. "Perhaps you ought to start asserting your boundaries as the customer there first. Just, you know, politely."

He hummed and glanced over at the counter where the owner seemed to have disappeared, just as Regulus said. "I think the owner's avoiding you. You'll have to take them by surprise."

Before James had arrived, Regulus had been occluding heavily to prevent the Order member reading his mind should they possess the ability to do so. As he'd let his wand clatter down to the table, Regulus had let those mental walls drop slightly - still present as ever, but not as heavy as he had been before. There was little in his life that Regulus had to himself - his memories and his thoughts were all he could cling to. "Other developments," he said, offering no further context. "I never stopped caring. That was never the issue, James, and you know it," he said, levelling James with a firm stare. Perhaps he wasn't just talking about Sirius any more, though he'd never admit it if pressed. "I know I can't control what he thinks, but I can control the way that he finds out and the manner it's delivered. It won't take away from what I have done previously either, and I fear that's all he'll look at. Oh, Sirius has been through a lot has he? And that gives him the right to react poorly, but not me the right to want to deliver the news myself? We've all been through a lot, James," Regulus said, immediately getting his back up at James' defence of Sirius. For all Regulus knew, Sirius had left the family home and had an easy ride of it all. "Oh, I think he might. Your precious Order was his thing, and now his little brother's back riding his coat-tails yet again."

The sharp sting of his nails against his skin helped to ground Regulus somewhat, aching to tear the Dark Mark off though he knew it wasn't possible. He abandoned his forearm to grasp the mug of beer, before he smiled though there was no humour behind it. "Pretty hard to undo twenty years worth of thoughts. They're all tangled up in my brain, dark vines weaving around each other. It's just...me," he said with a small frown. "You can't protect me from myself, James," he said gently. "A good son is someone who does his duties well, who marries well and continues the family name. Who explores the Dark Arts and furthers pure-blooded ideology. A good Death Eater is similar - he knows his duties, he focuses on the ideology, he pledges his undying devotion to the Dark Lord and he explores the dark arts and wields them without second thought. It's quite simple, really, if I didn't hate every bit of it." Regulus wasn't lying. He understood all of it - he knew what was expected of him, and up until now he had done it without outward complaint. It was simple in theory, until he started to see the harm he was doing and the reality of what would be to come if the Dark Lord won.

As James asked what more the Order could do, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, shaking his head. "I'm no strategist, or leader. But facing the Order from the other side...half of you don't even appear to be accomplished duelists. Do you have field healers, strategists who can think on their feet if something goes against plan? And how many of your Order members won't touch even a simple curse? You need to get comfortable using curses, even the darker ones...I'm not saying unforgivables because I know you won't cross that line. But if you have 10 Order members who want to stun and disarm and 10 Death Eaters who are willing to kill and maim to get what they want, my money is on the Death Eaters every time. Using only defensive magic is going to gain no ground."

Sighing deeply, Regulus took another long sip of his beer. "Maybe it's not entirely true, but when you're suffocating under relenting pressure, that's how it feels like. I don't know how to live without feeling like I have to perform for people like a fucking court jester," he said. "You can't possibly imagine what it's like having lessons to teach you to be better at curses that torture and control people, and I hope you never do. You're too good for that, Potter. I can see that you don't wanna talk about all my sins, so I'll...we'll leave it there," he said, wondering if this would forever change the way James looked at him.

Leaning back into his chair, Regulus' gaze followed James' movements as he took a long drink. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he tried to make sense of the change in tone. "James, c'mon man. Don't be like that," he said, not daring to put what he thought James' tone meant into words. "I can practically feel you itching to ask the question, though I'm not sure you actually want the answer. It's Caradoc."

If he didn't think it was an outrageous violation of privacy, James might've wished to be a Legilimens in that moment so that he could find out what Regulus was thinking, to know whether it was similar to what was going through his own head. He wondered vaguely whether Regulus could read his mind. Although he wouldn't be too surprised if he could, James sincerely hoped not. He wasn't sure how he'd recover. "Other developments?" James quirked an eyebrow. He bit back a comment about how he didn't know he was still in contact with Andy, because, at the end of the day, there was a lot else James didn't know about Regulus any more; if they opened this Pandora's box, he wouldn't know if they'd ever stop. "Being scared is a good thing, sometimes, I think. Means you still care," he said. He looked at him earnestly. "Honestly, Reg, you're not in control of what he thinks. I get that it's Sirius, and of course, he means a lot… I know more than anyone … but that's not your burden to bear. It won't take away from what you've done no matter what his immediate gut reaction to it is. And know that however he reacts is because he cares, too. He's just been through a lot." That was an understatement. He'd defend Sirius until his dying breath, over anyone. But James realised what that sounded like, and quickly added, "Not that I think he's going to react badly."

Not missing the way Regulus' hand went to his forearm, James almost squirmed, but masked this visceral reaction of disgust by summoning two mugs of Wizard's brew from the bar downstairs. He levitated one of them to set itself down in front of Regulus, before taking a long, deep sip of his own. "How do we get you to stop being so harsh on yourself?" Rich, coming from James, but his concern was reserved only for others. No time for self-examination. "As your officially appointed protector, I think that's my first order of business, because, Merlin, you're eating yourself alive. You're just doing your best, Regulus. There's no handbook for these types of things. What's a good son anyway, in a family like yours? What's a good death eater?" He sat up straighter in his seat, intrigued. "What d'you mean? What else do you think we can we do?" As one of the youngest members, James didn't have much say in the way the Order was run, or anything at all, really. It was mostly just following instructions. At this point, he was starting to wonder himself how to make a real difference, because it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere. James nodded. "And not just him. Everything he stands for, too."

A deep crease settled between his eyebrows. "C'mon, you know that's not true," he frowned, lips in a tight line. The first time I crucioed someone. The syllables reverberated in his head, again and again until the words didn't sound real any more. The first time –. Suddenly, James was overcome by the overwhelming desire to run away so he wouldn't find out what else Regulus had done. He hoped he wouldn't tell him. He couldn't stomach it. He felt stupid for being so stunned. What did he think death eaters did? Go out and frolic in fields of daisies? "I don't even know what that would've felt like. Can’t even begin to imagine it. I’m sorry.” He wanted to stop talking about this, but would go on for as long as Regulus needed. "Well, for the record, you do have family that would be proud of you. Andy, Ted, Sirius. Hey, probably Uncle Alphard, too, although I can't speak for him."

There it was. James took a swig of the drink in front of him. He ought to have expected it, really. The Black family curse. It always did happen after they met someone. "Oh, yeah? That sounds really ... great." Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did he sound so disingenuous? Was he being crazy? James willed himself to look up at Regulus, mentally going through every muggleborn man in the Order. "Honestly, that's really great. I'm so happy for you. It's ... a big thing to realise."

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

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

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

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

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