It Wasn't Often That Fenrir Bought Work Home, But There Were Occasions Were The Location Was Just Too

When the details for his meeting with his second protector had arrived, Regulus had committed the co-ordinates to memory before he had burned the parchment away. There was no use taking risks and leaving behind a paper trail of his betrayal - it would only come back to haunt him. He wasn't sure exactly who Edgar had arranged as a protector in addition to James, but he was hoping that this meeting wasn't going to haunt him the way his one with James Potter had done.

He was growing more comfortable with the deception that was laying under his skin, the lies he was telling to his family and to his friends about his involvement in the Death Eaters. He would maintain the facade for as long as possible, hoping to deal as much damage as he could before he was cut off or killed. Still, there was much to be concerned about while he was still actively working for the Death Eaters whilst also providing information to the Order and that was what his assigned protection was here to assist with...or so he thought.

Apparating to the co-ordinates he had memorised, Regulus took a moment to take in the howling winds and the crashing waves against a gloomy sky. It was the sort of place that he could lose himself, if he was allowed to do so. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his spine and headed towards the seemingly abandoned shack. Raising his hand, he knocked once as a courtesy before pushing the door open anyways. "Hello?" he called out, his voice strong. "This is quite the place."

who: @battle-scvrs when: sometime ago where: an abandoned hut on a beach in Scottland

Waves could be heard crashing onto the shore like wild roaring beasts, with anger so deep and yet a yearning for something new. One glance out of the dusty window and the sight of the waves would immediately come into view. It was through walks that Hestia had found that location. Whenever solitude had been required to think more clearly the witch had found her feet carrying her away from her cottage and down to the beaches just near by, until mile after mile had past only to apparate back home. It was during those walks that she noticed the abandoned shacks and cottages. Had the waves been too high? Hestia doubted that she’d ever find an answer to that.

The hut seemed almost perfect, had become even more so after the auror had placed the spells on it. Layers upon layers now sheltered the rundown cottage from the outside world. From a mirage that caused the building to appear abandoned, even more so, no matter who was inside to shielding charms and veils that allowed none but those permitted to pass through. Anyone out there would have simply been forced to move past.

Hestia was waiting on Regulus, had arrived early enough just to make sure. It was a meeting she had requested after talking over the details with Edgar. Now, seeing the younger Black heir moving down a path like that was not something she could have seen in the cards, but the world had proven to be odder and more surprising than anything.

She twirled the wand in her hand, ready and waiting for the steps that eventually she’d be able to hear. Whatever was within her power, the witch was going to do. If this was the clue, the one thing to stopping it all, it was worth the risk. Hestia was willing to give as much as it would take.

And then, finally, she could hear some steps.

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."

Regulus' desire to go unnoticed as he went about his shopping died as he turned to face James Potter fully, his lip curling slightly in displeasure. If it wasn't enough to see his brother recently for the first time in a long time, now he was face to face with Potter. "Merlin," he mumbled under his breath, staring at James before he abruptly turned back to face the shelf. "You can fuck off actually, I'll be browsing for a while. Many important potions to brew, many ingredients to buy...I'm sure you understand. They may be able to assist you at the desk," Regulus said shortly, his stomach churning unpleasantly at the sight of him. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes aimlessly searched the bottles, every single ingredient he'd come to buy suddenly leaving his head. He hated how flustered he got around Potter, still. James Potter did not deserve such emotion from Regulus, and yet...somehow he still managed to get under Reg's skin.

Something seemed to happen between the end of November and the beginning of December that made everybody want to spend their evenings between various shops in Diagon Alley. James didn't mind much – he loved crowds. In good spirits, he made his way to the apothecary to pick up some ingredients for a potion he was planning on brewing (or, rather, planning on asking someone else politely to brew) for his father, who was feeling a bit under the weather. When he heard who was in front of him, James stopped in his tracks. Fuck. "Yeah, okay. No worries. I'll... wait," he said dumbly.

The Leaky Cauldron was full of patrons making a pit stop while they do their Christmas shopping, and Fenrir had elbowed his way up to the bar. If he'd had any sense at all, he'd have just gone straight to the Wyvern - but as much as he liked his job, he wasn't desperate to spend his free time there. Fen had been speaking to the bartender when a lilting female voice broke through their conversation. "I was just describing this whiskey...deep amber, but smokey and rich. Nobody's ever quite described me as poetic before."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ OPEN STARTER !

Head cocked to the side as she looked at the person opposite her through curious eyes. "Wait, say the last thing you said again." She'd only been half-listening, in truth, but something had caught her attention. She grabbed a spare napkin and the self-inking quill she always kept on her, and scribbled down some words, before looking back up. "It sounded really poetic."

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

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

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

"Hello Kingsley," a smile on her lips.

REGULUS BLACK

There was something in the woman's gaze that indicated that the hardness of her expression was personal and yet Fenrir couldn't say he'd ever seen her before. That didn't mean that they'd never crossed paths, of course, but she was entirely unmemorable if that was the case. Shrugging at her sharpness, Fenrir rolled his eyes. "If you don't want anything from me, perhaps you could stop trying to crucio me with your eyes. At least do it properly."

If there was anyone she wished to cause immediate harm to, it was the one standing in front of her, what he did to Remus with no regard, she wanted to bring him to his knees. He had no idea who she was, but she knew plenty about him. And, she didn't like him. "No, I don't want anything from you." She replied more sharply than she would ever dare. Aurora was done waiting for who wanted this parchment, standing up.

"There's a small dash of mustard in there too, and some nutmeg," he said. He may work in a pub kitchen, he may be looked down upon within society, but he saw no reason to serve shit food. He kept his employers happy, and they continued to turn a blind eye to the days off that he requested each month like clockwork. "I find that the two work very well together. Just the right balance of each, and some finely sliced potatoes and...voila, or whatever the French say."

"Oh cheddar and parmesan together is a great idea. Usually people shy away from combining two stronger flavor profiles but I do find that they compliment each other well."

Timothée Chalamet for Rolling Stone magazine, December 2024

His recent run-ins with both Sirius and Andromeda had really started to reset Regulus' brain, and he'd hardly slept over the last few weeks as he was kept up by the choices he'd made. The inner conflict was tearing him apart, and he needed to speak to someone that he could trust to keep his secret. There were very few people on Earth that Regulus felt he could trust with the enormity of this, but he just knew that Andromeda was someone he could talk to without fear of judgment. Even with her owled response confirming a date and time, Regulus had half convinced himself that his cousin was not going to come and he would be left to struggle through his feelings alone. "I wasn't sure. I wouldn't have blamed you," he offered with a small shrug. "I didn't think I would reach out either, but...here we are."

He gestured towards the couch for her to settle herself as he crossed through to his kitchen, tapping the kettle with his wand. Returning with two strong cups of tea, Regulus set them onto the coffee table before taking a seat. "I've been doing a lot of thinking recently. A lot of soul searching...it's been hurting my head, to be honest. And I guess I just...wanted to talk to someone that would understand."

Andromeda had been surprised when she had received the owl from Regulus. There had been hope that perhaps she had got through to him when she had seen him, softened some of that resolve that seemed such a Black trait. Or that perhaps even the sight of his niece would be enough to warm him. The invitation had filled her with hope, always the optimist. Still she had to consider whether or not it was a good idea, to go to his home wasn't necessarily the smartest idea. But there was no refusing him, so she'd sent him an owl with a time and date that worked for her, glad when he'd agreed. She couldn't deny upon arrival that she was nervous, she didn't know what to expect from this meeting. But regardless, she wanted to be there for Regulus, would always be there for her family. "Of course I came.." She offered him a small smile as she stepped inside, her eyes taking in their surroundings cautiously as she followed him into the living room. "Uh..tea would be lovely actually." She stood, unsure in the middle of the room, taking it all in before she turned to look at him once more. "I didn't think you would reach out.." She corrected herself. "I mean I hoped but..." She shrugged helplessly.