Fenrir Knew The Importance Of Showing His Face, And He Would Normally Do It Without Complaint - Although

(cw: brief mentions of child abuse) "To know me is to hate me, is to hate what I've become."

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Regulus Arcturus Black NICKNAMES: Reg, Reggie. AGE: 21 GENDER: Cis Male PRONOUNS: He/Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Walburga Black FATHER: Orion Black SIBLINGS: Sirius Black (estranged)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Timothee Chalamet BUILD: Slender. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: The Dark Mark on his left arm. No other anomalies - the male heirs to the House of Black had to be perfect (meaning, his parents always ensured any marks were healed once the lesson had set in). SCENT: Expensive aftershave, sandalwood shampoo. ACCENT: English southern upper class ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Regulus lives fairly exclusively in black. NERVOUS TICS: Leg bouncing when he's trying to think, wand twirling between his fingers.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Small terraced house in Mould-on-the-Wold, alone. BORN:  12 Grimmauld Place RAISED:  12 Grimmauld Place PETS: Tawny Owl that Regulus has had since his first year at Hogwarts, named Apollo.

CAREER: Unspeakable in Training EMPLOYER: Ministry of Magic POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters

DRUGS: Occasionally SMOKES: Regulus started smoking cigarettes shortly after leaving Hogwarts. If that coincides with the time that he took the Dark Mark, then that's merely a coincidence. ALCOHOL: Regulus does drink alcohol. Regulus is quite fond of a muggle whiskey that he tried once, though he would never dare to confess that to his family. DIET: Varied, but very rich.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Latin.

FEARS: Regulus has claustrophobia, drilled into him when his mother would fly into a rage and lock him into a closet as punishment until Reg begged for forgiveness for whatever misdemeanour he had committed. Regulus is also terrified of being left behind whilst the rest of his family and friends move forwards with their lives. He's scared that he is too much for people, that he has too much baggage and nobody can manage it adequately. HOBBIES: Quidditch/flying, reading, wizards chess.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The front room of his home, the first place he has ever felt truly comfortable in. He enjoys curling up in front of a roaring fire and settling down with a good book. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps GAME: Wizards chess. FOOD: A comforting beef stew with dumplings. BEVERAGE: A good cup of tea. COLOR: Black.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin. WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 12 and three quarter inches, Cypress wood, Dragon Heartstring core, supple. AMORTENTIA: Burning candles, roasted garlic, spices, the air just after a heavy rainstorm. PATRONUS: Regulus is unable to cast a patronus. BOGGART: Himself. Regulus is terrified of people seeing him the way he sees himself - broken, selfish, alone.

Bio:

Regulus is the second child born to Orion and Walburga Black. From a young age, it was drilled into Regulus that they were special - their family were ancient and noble, and better than even other purebloods. All Regulus ever wanted was the approval of his parents and his brother, and so he would do anything to keep himself in their good graces. He dutifully listened to his mother's droning lectures about their self-importance and took as much of it as he could on board, desperate to keep his mother happy. There was nothing more important than family loyalty, this much was clear to Regulus.

Regulus remembers tearfully saying goodbye to Sirius on Platform 9 and 3/4s when Sirius went to Hogwarts for the first time. His mother had clipped him around the ear for that, telling him firmly that boys didn't cry. The news that Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor hit Grimmauld Place with an impact no less than if a bomb had gone off, and Regulus knew then that he would beg and plead with the sorting hat to put him in Slytherin even if it wasn't right. He couldn't let his parents down, not when Sirius had. One of the Black boys had to uphold family tradition, and his big brother had passed that mantle onto Reggie's small shoulders.

He needn't have worried for when it was his turn to go to Hogwarts a year later the sorting hat had barely touched his head before it yelled Slytherin loudly, and Regulus slept comfortably that evening knowing his parents would be proud. Regulus found a comfortable rhythm at Hogwarts and found his way to the top of several classes, and he found a group of Slytherin friends that he fit in with (much to his brother's dismay). Regulus loved learning and he especially loved magical theory, fascinated by the way things work. When it came time for his career conversation with the head of house, Regulus expressed some interest in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. He wanted to know more about their world and the way things worked.

His family were aligned with the Dark Lord long before Regulus had left Hogwarts, so it was no surprise to him that his mother suggested strongly that he offer himself into the Dark Lord's service. Having fallen in with a crowd of future Death Eaters at Hogwarts, Regulus had found himself admiring the Dark Lord and his magical skill. He took the Dark Mark at age sixteen and when he returned home that evening, he didn't think he'd ever seen more pride shining on his parents faces.

Now, war is ongoing and Regulus is starting to have second thoughts about his allegiances. He sees the torture and mutilation that is happening in the Dark Lord's service, and he's uncertain that he wants to be associated with such blatant cruelty. His uncertainties are kept close to his chest, terrified of what might happen if he ever confessed to his doubts. He wonders if his brother might harbour him if he ever fled the Death Eaters, or if Sirius would turn his back on him forever. He wonders if it's even possible to leave the service of the Dark Lord, or whether his cousin might hunt him down and torture him for his disloyalty. Regulus lies awake most nights pondering the future, and wondering if he made the right call.

Having already sent an owl to warn of her impending arrival, Cassie had apparated across to Val's at 7pm on the dot. She had two bottles of wine in her bag along with a box of chocolates, and as soon as she apparated into her friend's home she threw herself down on the couch. "I brought wine!" she called loudly, wondering whereabouts in the house Val was. @valeria-flint

Every time he thought about what he had done, Regulus was filled with an impending sense of doom. He'd sold his soul to a man he didn't trust, a man who would use the information he gave without consideration to the danger it put Regulus in. Sure, protectors were being provided - but really, what was a few Order agents against the might of his extremist family? If his betrayal was revealed, the Dark Lord was the very least of Regulus' problems. Bellatrix would flay him alive, he knew it. Still, he had to remain firm and confident in his decision - he couldn't continue as he had been, and therefore something had to change.

The abruptness with which Regulus had stood up had disrupted the table and the pint of beer toppled over, liquid running over the side of the table and into his shoes. "Motherfucker," he cursed, fumbling for his wand. He cast silencing charms over the room before vanishing the beer. "You can fuck off. Go back to where you came from, and tell Edgar Bones to find me someone else. This is not happening. Is he taking the actual piss?" Regulus ranted furiously. With his wand still in hand, he conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and practically ripped the lid off before lifting the bottle to his lips. It was a sick irony, he supposed, that his own instructions had led to James Potter being before him once again. "Get out. Get out."

There was a double-agent working for the Order. He'd had his own suspicions, but the rumours were confirmed once and for all when James had been asked to act as a protector for them. Of course, he had jumped at the chance. It was an honour, really; the amount of bravery that must take was nothing less than admirable, and James meant it with everything he had when he said he would protect them with his life. The technicalities of their arrangement had been discussed briefly. He had been sworn to secrecy – he was not even to tell Lily, or Sirius – at least for the time being, and so he had left his girlfriend at home with a poor excuse as to why he had to go out. She was far too clever to believe it, but known enough not to question it.

Eyes landed on the black-haired boy as soon as he ascended the spiral staircase leading to the private room that had been arranged for the two of them to make their acquaintance. James recognised the curve of his nose, the set of his jaw at once. Of course he did. He could recognise it in darkness. Mouth agape, it took him several seconds to regain any sort of composure – much less the ability to speak. "Regulus?" His voice was incredulous.

"Oh shit, that is exciting. Now that I think about it you do look more tanned than anyone should be in this weather," Cassie said, casting her gaze over him again. "I bet it was beautiful blue seas, right? Nothing like the grey water we have here." When the bottles arrived, Cassie uncorked the wine and poured them both a glass. "Cheers to your birthday," she said, clinking her glass against his.

"Aruba, bitches." Nick said, smug as can be. "I tried being a changed man for like, two days and it didn't take. Pushes someone into the ocean instead, felt much better." It didn't take him long to flag down a waiter, took even less time to shove a few galleons their way and get two of their finest bottles of red. "Only for you, Cassie."

Since Lucius had settled himself in front of her and remained unmoved, Cassie had practically been waiting for him to ask for her healing services. "I'll send you my contracts and my pricing via owl when I get home. With how difficult pregnancy can be, I will be on call whenever either of you need me," Cassie assured him, though that of course would come with a hefty price - one she was certain the Malfoy vaults could spare. "Lots of protein and calcium. I have a list at home of some recommended dishes to meet the intake, I can send you that as well. It just helps promote Narcissa's health, and healthy growth of the baby," she mused, pulling some parchment from her bag to scribble down a list of things she needed to send Lucius. "Keeping your wife happy while she grows your child is probably the best thing you can do for your ongoing health. Massages, anything strange she's craving, sensitive gestures...it will mean a lot," Cassie said with a small grin.

They were in the process of find a suitable healer and Cassie Borgin came to mind. "I have spoken to my wife, and we would like you to be our healer." With her reputation, she could be trusted, her family a long history within the cause. Lucius listened carefully to what she had to say and nodded his head. "Is there a list I should be giving them?" He wanted to make sure this was done correctly. "I can give massages." He could try at least. "This is all note worthy information."

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?"

Quirking his eyebrow at the mention of a birthday party, Fenrir mentally ran through his schedule. "I'm currently working Monday through Thursday, then Sunday. For the right price I might be able to make an adjustment and come in on Saturday," he added, thinking of the upcoming festive season. "What are you thinking? Full menu, or buffet style?"

"I wanted to know your availability for the next week. I wanted to discuss throwing a birthday party for my brother Emmett." He owned the tattoo shop right next to the White Wyvern so Emma thought this would be the perfect location. And now that her wedding stress was over and Seth and her settled into married life, she thought it came time to host something and do something for her brother.

The last time Fenrir had found himself so vulnerable in the arms of another, he had ended up with Magnus at the end of it all. He'd spent so long working his way through the pack, fiercely independent and comfortable in his own company, and he hadn't expected Nancy to worm her way into his heart. Now history was repeating itself again. Things had started with Dora as a way to warm each other's beds, and now there was something....more. Something unexpected, but something wonderful. "I hope he does. I hope he knows his father wants only the best for him," Fenrir said earnestly. "There's nothing left of Anders. There was nothing but scraps at time, but I made sure those scraps disappeared. Nobody even cared enough to look for him," he sneered, thinking of the way his father had intentionally isolated them away. Taking her words on board, Fenrir nodded slowly, offering her a tight smile. "I try my best."

He knew that Pandora must have spent a great deal of time infusing these bracelets with her own magic, and he appreciated it more than he could say. "I don't need more. This is perfect, it's so thoughtful," he said, leaning his forehead against hers as their eyes met. With the war growing darker, and Fenrir finding himself being called upon more and more, it was a gift like no other to be able to know that his son was safe and away from it all.

Fenrir's hands came to settle on Pandora's waist, thumbs aimlessly tracing circles. "Darling, I'd cook for us. I like doing it, it makes me feel useful. Speaking of, what are you doing for New Years? If you have nothing on I could make us a meal, then we could go away for the night somewhere?"

The stress of the day melted away being tucked in Fenrir's arms. All her worries and doubts, they didn't matter when she was here in his home. Laying there listening to his story about his father stirred feelings of anger and sadness for him. Her parents were far from perfect, but they celebrated their way. "I bet you Magnus feels that love. I see it in your eyes when you talk about him. If your father was here still, I'd hurt him myself, for making you feel that way." A hand comes up to cup his cheek, leaning up to kiss his chin. "I also want to point out, you are nothing like your father. You are a strong leader who does have compassion, in his own way, but you care about those who are your pack above all, you protect those that you love."

Pandora would never grow tired of kissing him. There was this spark that sparked each time their lips met and it was one of the best feelings that washed over her. Her eyes lit up when he opened the box with the bracelets, spending the last few weeks to get the spell right, but with a twist of her own magic in it. "You deserve more, Fen." There was a peace of mind knowing that he would always be able to know where Magnus was when he couldn't be home.

"This is our first Christmas together." Fingers comb gently through his hair, moving it away from his face. "I'm really hoping that next year, we could all do it together." She was hopefully for what their future could look like, ignoring all the obstacles that would be in their way. "I'm not the best cook, but I think I could put a meal together."

Caradoc’s response was to be expected, and he slowly drew his sleeve back down to cover the mark as he continued to stare. Regardless of his shifting allegiances, that mark would blemish his skin forever. He would always feel the burning call when the Dark Lord summoned his followers, and he would always be stained by the choices that he made as a foolish child. What had once been a sign of pride was now a source of shame, but all he could do was try to make better choices from here on in.

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” Regulus wrapped an arm around Caradoc’s shoulder, pulling him closer to try and comfort him. “I want to do good. I want to be better. I’ve spoken to Edgar Bones and I have started feeding him information about some plans I was aware of, and some people that have been imperiused. He’s putting protection in place for me, I’m assuming via the Order…but I’m scared that if it all comes out that the Death Eaters will kill me. But that fear…it’s not enough to keep me there. I was never a very good Death Eater. I’ve been having lessons with someone to teach me to be better at the unforgivables, and just last week I completely froze up in a battle because I was having a panic attack. It can’t carry on like this, and so…I need out. This is it, y’know. This is the turning point of my life, and there’s no going back from here.”

Pressing a kiss to the crown of Caradoc’s head as he tried to play off the emotions, Regulus continued. “I’m not sure that I can put a finger on exactly what started to change my mind. I think it’s a whole mix of things – my discomfort with the torture that’s going on, my own fears and anxieties, the pressure just becoming too much from my family, and this relationship. All of this has added up to me breaking in Edgar’s office and…here we are. It’s so new, it’s terrifying. I’m frightened for my life, and I’m frightened for what comes next. But I know it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to be a Death Eater any more. I’m not entirely sure I want to be in the Order either, but I will do what I must to help stop the Dark Lord.”

Caradoc involuntarily tensed up when he laid eyes on Regulus’s arm. The Dark Mark. He took in a sharp breath — this was a tough pill to swallow. So many things were running through his head. Regulus had met the Dark Lord? Caradoc got nervous even saying the evil man’s name. If the Order found out that he and Regulus were together, if Death Eaters found out . . . It made his stomach twist up in a knot.

But — it was a good sign that Regulus had shown Caradoc this. It meant that Regulus, as far as he could tell, wanted out. He was taking a huge risk here. “Okay,” Caradoc said quietly. He realized he was staring at the mark and averted his eyes, not wanting to make Regulus uncomfortable. “You want to do good. That’s - that’s good-” he felt a bit lame saying that. “-if you want to defect from them, the Order can protect you. I can protect you.” Caradoc felt tears come to his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He turned his head to the side, still not used to being comfortable with crying in front of others. If his father saw this, he wouldn’t be pleased. Caradoc slumped further against the cushions, a wave of drowsiness hitting him. “This is, um, a side effect of the healing potion I took. Makes people tired and emotional, you know?” He said. It was clearly not true - well, not the emotional part - and a poor excuse for his worries.

— unknown