If He Was Honest, Regulus Was Surprised That Sirius Had Even Agreed To Meet. Their Last Encounter Had

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.

"I'd be perfectly happy, I think. I have all the friends that I need, I don't need any new ones," Regulus said with a shrug. The last thing he needed was more people in his life to disappoint. "I just can't see how you can make friends from a brief conversation in public...it's surface level at best."

"You would really prefer to never have to talk to anyone again? Wouldn't that be terribly lonely? How would you make new friends?" They were so fundamentally different it seemed like each of them struggled to understand the other person.

Moodboard Aesthetic: Pandora Nott and Fenrir Greyback ( @battle-scvrs )

After a long day at work, Regulus had wanted nothing more than to retreat home and head straight to bed. As it was, he had a mission to undertake that evening and it was hardly worth going home at all. He'd showered and changed into fresh robes in one of the department bathrooms (plumbed in after several complaints from Unspeakables who had ended up covered in various magical substances whilst undertaking research), and apparated straight to the White Wyvern to eat some pub grub and await nightfall.

Entirely consumed by the pie in front of him, Regulus had hardly noticed that someone had taken up residence at the table beside him. Only when he glanced up did he recognise his new cousin-in-law, and he offered Lucius a curt nod. "I'm as entitled to be here as you are, Lucius. Just keeping myself to myself, I don't want any trouble."

where: white wyvern who: open

Lucius hated being back from his honeymoon. Being away from London and those that occupied it, it allowed the two of them to live in a world that was merely theirs. He did miss his peacocks, the only real thing that was the deciding factor to be home. That also meant back out doing the Dark Lord's work and after the day he had, a drink was required.

With a drink in hand, and table that allowed him to watch who walked through, a smirk turned on his lips at the next patron. "Should you be here?" His tone that of one who sounded bored, twisting his head to observe the person in question walk by.

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.

Awaiting Thorfinn's appearance, Fenrir had begun sizing up the cottage in the distance. If he had to guess, he would say the place was heavily warded, though it didn't appear to have been made unplottable. At the crack of apparition, Fenrir turned to face Thorfinn and he didn't have to ask for further information before the other man offered it freely. "Witness protection," he snorted, twisting his wand in between his fingers. "What good has witness protection ever done anyone?"

"I'm always ready for fun," he said, starting to edge his way a little closer to the cottage though he stayed hidden in the tree line. "You've watched the patrols?" he asked, turning his wand on himself to cast a disillusionment charm over himself. "I don't know why we can't just kill the patrols...we can deal with whatever reinforcements they send."

Thorfinn finished his drink, watching the other come out from the back, changed and ready to go. There was nothing like having a good hunt and extracting some information. That seemed to be the go to for them. The more information they had, the better it would be for them. "See you there."

With a small twist, he popped from the white wyvern, coming out in a small clearing where a cottage stood off in the distance. He turned to find Fenrir standing there. "Corey Adler. He worked for the Minister of Magic, and was put under witness protection, and I wonder why." The last week, he had learned when patrol switch off happened and found a way to break the wards. "You ready to have a little fun. In five minutes we'll have enough time to break through and enter without anyone seeing us."

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?"

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."

Alecto's shuffling betrayed her discomfort, regardless of the lack of expression on her face. Fenrir was no fan of the woman in front of him, but he wasn't entirely heartless and he didn't want to see a heavily pregnant woman sit in discomfort in his home. "The couch is softer if you want to swap. Or I have some duck feather cushions that I can offer you," he said, offering them as a truce between them. "You won't find it to be necessary, Carrow. Yes, we can be done with that topic."

Fenrir tried not to get involved with the Scottish werewolves where possible. Managing his own pack was enough work without being dragged into the internal politics of another pack - never mind that when two werewolf alphas in the same room usually led to vicious fights. But to hear that Angus had wandering hands...Fenrir wanted to apparate to Scotland and rip those hands off. It was unthinkable to him that the leader of a pack should behave in such a way. "If you were to want to depose Angus in the future, or if you wanted to teach him a lesson...I would offer my assistance," Fenrir said carefully. "I will save that favour for the future."

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.”