Since Lucius Had Settled Himself In Front Of Her And Remained Unmoved, Cassie Had Practically Been Waiting

There were some evenings that Regulus didn't mind company, and some where he wanted to simply people watch until the evening slipped away. He'd been planning on people watching until the time came for his mission, curiously surveying the White Wyvern to see if there was any information that could be gained. Even in these dark times, once people had a pint of beer their lips loosened and secrets were spoken louder than necessary. Watching Lucius move over to join him saw those plans slipping away, but he didn't mind it too much.

Family was everything, after all.

"I've cast a lot of complex spells today, it was quite draining. I could eat two of these I reckon...need to get my strength back up," Regulus shrugged, shovelling another forkful in his mouth. "How are you settling into married life? I saw Narcissa the other day...she seemed happy," he offered.

Lucius glanced over to the voice, one to a face he did not mind, at least a Black that was still on the right side, causing him to slip from his chair and join him at his table. Hues glance down at the pie on the table. "I did not say you were not." Company he could appreciate.

"Has it been a day that you feel inclined to eat an entire pie?" He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink. Lucius wasn't one to judge, but he was judging. That was a lie, he was always one to judge.

There was a emotional war going on inside Kingsley's mind, and no amount of sitting and thinking about it privately would do him any good. It was almost selfish of him, but Kingsley figured if there was ever a time to be selfish was now. He'd heard whispers that Sade was angling for more missions within the Order and he'd be a liar if he said that didn't terrify him. He would never presume that he could control Sade or what she did, but that didn't mean he couldn't heavily warn against it. Kingsley apparated onto Sade's doorstep, knocking once as a courtesy before he pushed the door open and walked in. He'd timed it knowing Jasper would already be in bed, which meant that hopefully he could talk to his sister with minimal interruptions.

"Sade?" he called, his voice low so as to not wake his nephew. "Sorry for dropping in unannounced, but I need to talk to you. Urgently." @sadeshacklebolt

"Perhaps it is you that lacks manners, Carrow. You come into my home making demands of my time, and to use my fireplace...not once have I heard a please. Oh, I wouldn't concern yourself too much with my pack. The Dark Lord seems pleased with us...or are you questioning our leaders judgment?" he asked, daring her to challenge the Dark Lord himself.

Though Alecto had tried to bite back her disdain at his casual show, Fenrir knew it had irked her and he smirked. "You couldn't pay me any amount of money in the world to get involved in all of your pureblood society bullshit. I am perfectly happy where I am. If you touch this home where my son resides, you will regret it," he said, gaze hardening. "I take threats to this place very seriously. You will understand when your children arrive...do not test me again."

Fenrir continued lounging against his couch, though his brain was ticking away. "So what are you looking for exactly? Someone to depose Angus? Or are you looking for blackmail?"

"If a leader lacks manner's does that mean the rest of the pack does? This could be concerning." Alecto states in a mocking tone. The witch was certain if they did prove to be unruly that the Dark Lord would lose interest in them and perhaps they could all be put down.

Her body shifts in his direction, keeping from rolling her eyes at his unprofessionalism. "Is that jealousy I hear, Greyback?" A small pause. "I don't blame you, however, if you truly desire the caves, I'm sure we can have it arranged for you." A insidious smirk twisting on her features.

Now that had reached business and she sat up a little straighter. "We have an alliance with him, but something about him irks me." More so, how he continued to hit on her their last visit.

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

The tone of his cousin's voice broke through Regulus' rambling worries, and he looked up at her. Regardless of her affirmations, Regulus would carry regret for the way he had treated her for the rest of his life. "I was just a boy, trying to make his parents proud," he said quietly. "You left, then Sirius left, and they were determined nobody else would leave. The pressure, merlin...it was constant, unbearable. And that's just my parents, that's not even considering Bella," he breathed, still incredibly confused and conflicted about his feelings for the intense witch. Picking up his cup of tea, Regulus took a long sip, hoping the warmth would settle him somehow. "Oh, me too. A visit from my parents would ruin my whole week," he said, with a small smile.

It was the first time he'd been able to voice his concerns to someone who he hoped would listen without judgment. He could have talked to Caradoc, but he hadn't wanted to burden the other man with all of this when whatever they had was still new and precious to him. "Bella will kill me. If she doesn't, my parents will. You and Sirius were bad enough....but for me to be marked, to have been on the 'right path' and to still leave? They won't let that stand. It's an embarrassment, I'm an embarrassment," his voice was small and sad. He truly could only see one way that this ended - it was just a matter of how much time he could steal before it happened. "I can't see a way out of this...but if I don't, the war will kill me anyway. I froze up in battle the other day, having a panic attack behind my mask. I couldn't stand to see another person die by my hand."

A fond smile tugged at his lips as he thought more about Caradoc, and he offered Andromeda a soft shrug of his shoulders. "It just kinda happened. I didn't know his blood status when it started, and then I realised...it's the least interesting part of him. I understand a lot more now than I did before."

"Regulus..." Andromeda didn't mean to sound stern as she said his name, but she didn't want him to be reliving everything he thought he had done wrong. "You've never been cruel, the family cut me off for my choices and I understand why you did so as well. Trust me, I know just how easy it is to just go with their decisions. To not question what they're telling you, if it weren't for Ted I'd likely be following in Bellatrix's footsteps." She feigned a shudder at the thought, though the idea certainly was a terrifying one. As he explained that the house was strongly warded she felt herself relax more. She didn't think it was a trap, but one never knew when family might pop in for a visit out of nowhere. "I won't lie, I'm relieved to know my estranged family won't be stopping by." A small laugh, trying to lighten the situation.

Her heart ached as Regulus explained what was going on, how much he was struggling. She'd had an inkling that things were not going well the last time she'd seen him. He deserved happiness, a life that he chose just like she and Sirius had. And to know that he was marked, that this was the path his family had put him on. Pain for him and anger at her family warred within her. "Listen to me Reg....there is always time to change things. You don't have to keep doing this." She squeezed his hand gently. "We can get you out of it, we can figure it out. This doesn't have to be your life. She assured him, her eyes meeting his. "You are not just a spare to me and you never were. You're my family, and no matter what I am by your side. If you want to get out of their ranks we can figure out how to do it."

A moment's pause before a small smile rose to her lips. "Now on another note, a muggle guy is it? Perhaps now you understand why I made the choices I did?"

Regulus couldn't help the way he flinched at James' easy joke. Sure, it was easy for James Potter - everything came easy to James fucking Potter. And like almost everything else in Regulus' life, Sirius was the first choice and Regulus was the unwanted extra. The little kid clutching his brother's arm, the teenager chasing after his brother's friends, the adult who was chasing everything that Sirius should have been and everything that he was not. "I know Sirius is your...I don't know, favourite person ever or whatever, but I'd appreciate not being lumped in with him any more. He made his choices, and I made mine....and you made yours," all traces of easy teasing gone from his tone, replaced with strained tension. "I'm Regulus, and I am ridiculous...and you've got no insight into my life any more. You wasted that chance."

James' innuendo made Regulus' brain short circuit for a moment, and his jaw fell agape for a moment before he collected himself. "Several years ago, maybe. But I think I'll pass on that now, I've moved on. I am, however, still interested in you grovelling. I am about to be the sole owner of all of England's jewelweed after all," he smirked. "Oh good, I'll make sure to frame it and put it over my mantlepiece."

"You're not Ridiculous, you're Regulus. Easy mix-up, I do it all the time." It was a joke akin to serious/Sirius, and something in that made James feel inexplicably guilty. It wasn't that he felt he was doing anything wrong right now, but the months when he did, years ago, threatened to resurface. Lying to his best friend had been the hardest thing in the world. In the end, he'd chosen to stop – that is, stop meeting Regulus on the astronomy tower every night, stop whatever it was that they had been doing. Sirius meant too much to him to go behind his back. And this wasn't something he could, or would, ever tell him. James made his decision, and it had been (it would always be) Sirius.

"Is that what you want? For me to grovel? Do you want me on my knees, Reg?" The double entendre wasn't intentional, but it floated in the air between them nevertheless. By the time he said it, it was too late to take back. He'd just pretend he didn't hear it. "I appreciate the concern, but I can do one more for you, don't worry."

Regulus sometimes felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure what to do with that feeling. It wasn't as if there was anything he could put down to make it easier - he enjoyed his job, so he was hesitant to let go of his work. He could hardly step away from the cause that he had pledged his life to, and since Sirius had turned his back on their family, his parents had doubled down on ensuring that Regulus stayed on the right path. Their focus was stifling, and it had hardly lessened since Regulus moved out to live alone. All he could do was his best, and Regulus was terrified that his best wasn't good enough.

Enter Rabastan, a mentor Regulus had turned to when his eldest cousin's attention became too much. He was grateful, truly, and yet Regulus knew that he shouldn't need extra tuition to be able to cast an unforgivable. He was the male heir to the House of Black, and he couldn't cast an unforgivable without his stomach churning...it was pathetic, and he knew it. "Yes, the imperius curse...I've never managed to do it strongly before," he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. He nodded at the instruction, and he could almost hear his mother's high pitched voice shrieking that he had to mean it.

Summoning the anger and anxiety that was always simmering beneath the surface of his emotions, Regulus turned his wand towards Rabastan. "Imperio," Regulus cursed, willing Rabastan to do some ballet pirouettes.

Rabastan liked the youngest Black. It had been with an unusual generosity that he'd taken Regulus under his wing when he'd joined the Death Eaters. There was something akin to recognition in the act. He'd seen something in Regulus that resonated. Perhaps it was his position as the second son of a noble house, and the weighty expectation that came with that status. Rabastan did not think on it. He was merely willing to give Regulus his time.

He had of course set the enchantments already. But rather than extinguish the other wizard's enthusiasm, he permitted him to add his own spells to the mix, watching all the while and judging his choices. He approved. Regulus was cautious and thorough.

"You'll learn," he replied, stepping closer. A smile drifted his lips fleetingly, fading as quickly as the breeze that passed through the glade where they stood. There was no need for a mask, here. Nothing would get through the spells without him knowing about it in good time. "So, the Imperius Curse? Cast it on me first. Let me see what you can do." Then he slowly grinned, wickedly and full of mirth. "Just don't make me do anything too absurd."

Fenrir turning Remus had been nothing other than revenge for the vile way Lyall Lupin had treated him. As a young adult, he had known that turning Lyall would not be enough suffering for the older man - no, it would do more damage to turn his young son and watch that boy become everything that Lyall hated. Lyall quickly changed his tune - Remus, as far as Fenrir knew, was not on the werewolf register and his condition had largely been kept secret. So much for his allegation that werewolves deserved nothing but death, for Remus stood before him, in adequate health.

Remus' ongoing resistance towards Fenrir was understandable, and yet he felt sorrow that the younger man continued to choose suffering. Werewolves were pack animals, they were not meant to be solitary creatures. When they were alone, they would turn on themselves and rip themselves to pieces as Remus appeared to be each month.

Letting his hand drop as Remus shoved it off, Fenrir crossed his arms as he let the other man shout, not bothering to interrupt. He let him run his course, staring calmly at the other man's explosion of anger. "Look at me, Remus. Do I look like I'm covered in scars? Do I look like I'm suffering? The full moon was two nights ago, and I am in perfect health. I don't need to take healing potions the following morning, I wake up and I can get on with my life. My five year old son copes better with the changes than you do, because you are resisting who you truly are. You make this so much worse than it needs to be. I have control over myself when I turn, the pack helps with that. We're not meant to be alone, Remus. A sole werewolf suffers, but one with a pack...it's beautiful. You may think I'm demented, you may think I've lost my mind...maybe I have. But I am not the one suffering needlessly every month. I live a full and happy life. My son has a better existence than you appear to - because he has accepted his species, and runs free each full moon. There is a pack that will accept you. And if you don't want to be in a pack under me, there is a pack in Scotland that would accept you. You don't have to live like this."

Remus had nothing but hatred for Fenrir and hatred wasn't something he took lightly. Fenrir was the only one in that class. Even Voldemort was something different. He didn't understand how anyone could think it right to curse a young child to become something he would be his entire life. It was cruel and selfish. That's all Fenrir was. That's all he ever had been. Remus was living proof if he had ever dared reveal what he was to the masses. The people who knew were the only ones that needed to know.

Remus felt his broken bones and scars flare up as the older werewolf touched him. His body shivered and shook. He tried to hold steady, not wanting Fenrir to know he had such an effect on him but his body was letting him down. But there was something else in the shaking -- anger. He clenched his fists wanting to hurt the werewolf. How dare he touch him. He had already done enough to ruin Remus' life. He didn't deserve to touch the younger man.

He finally turned around, red with fury and shoved Fenrir's hand off his shoulder. "Not meant to be difficult?! Are you out of your bloody mind? Our bones tearing apart each month? Scars showing up and not knowing where they came from? Internal injuries we can't go to the hospital for because we have no good excuse? Our bodies rejecting us? Attacking the innocent? How is that not difficult?! How is that beautiful?!" Remus took his clenched fists and punched them together. "You're demented to think we're a superior race. We have no control of what we are! We're -- we're -- we're freaks of nature."

Up until now, Regulus had been incredibly careful about those he'd spoken to about his changing allegiances. He'd asked Edgar to honour that by keeping the true source of the information anonymous, and keeping the circle of protectors as small as possible. If he didn't accept James as a protector, that was a loose end and a risk. It infuriated him that this situation was clearly Edgar trying to honour Regulus' demands, and therefore he had been the harbinger of his own doom (if one wanted to be so dramatic, which he did). This would require a lot of contact with James, which he vehemently did not want.

Reg shrugged his shoulders, glancing down at his shoes. "Nobody likes wet socks," he murmured. When everything else was spiralling out of his control, wet socks was something entirely stupid and mundane that he could indeed control. As James settled the bottle back down, Reg snatched it up again and took another long swig. "I don't think you want me going anywhere near your head with a wand at the moment, not given how much firewhiskey I've just swigged. If you want to take the risk though..." he trailed off, quirking an eyebrow in James' direction. "What sort of test? Do you want to pinch me to make sure I'm real? I assure you this is actually happening, despite every atom of my body fucking begging for it to be a nightmare. I'm not sure even the Dark Lord himself could conjure up this particular situation, and yet Edgar Bones has just....well."

"What's not to understand? Edgar told you the situation, I assume. You volunteered because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, and unfortunately, the person is me. Here to continually disappoint people, as ever," he offered James a tight smile - a mask of protection. "My conscience finally won over my people-pleasing nature. I expect it will kill me, but that's the risk I've accepted. I'm sure if you go to Edgar and explain, he'll let you out of this assignment."

The universe was very clearly playing a prank on him. It was obvious. After twelve years of dishing them out, now, finally, his punishment had come, some kind of divine retribution in the form of this sick practical joke – and not a very funny one, at that. James bitterly willed the universe to try harder. He'd always felt justice would come back around to bite him in the arse one day, but couldn't have in his wildest dreams predicted something like this: Regulus Black, betraying his family’s cause, under James’ protection. The whole thing was outrageous.

Despite everything, he let out a breath of laughter. "It was getting into your socks," he repeated, amused, as if it were the most nonsensical thing in the world. To be honest, everything in this room right now seemed to be nonsensical. Walking around the table, he picked up the bottle and took a swig. Face immediately soured at the taste. He replaced it on the table, sliding it across towards Regulus. "I'll obliviate you, you obliviate me?" he suggested. "I can't believe this is happening. Surely it's not real. Is it a test, d'you think?" He nodded. "I think we might be, too."

James chewed his bottom lip. "Okay, you're going to have to explain what's happening here, because I don't understand."

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?"