Staring At Andromeda In A State Of Something Almost Akin To Shell-shock, Regulus Didn't Quite Know What

With the ministry as inept as they were, it was no surprise that the Dark Lord was making ground and quickly. The ministry had deemed this man a high priority for protection, and yet they hadn't even set up basic wards. There was nothing stopping himself and Thorfinn from walking in and slaughtering the lot of them. Rolling his shoulders as he braced for a fight, Fenrir tilted his head slightly as he watched one of the wizards pacing outside the front door. "Roughly how long will it be until the switch? Anything more than five minutes and I'm thinking we just handle it now. I don't want to wait."

"You can manage casting the mark then. I'll manage apparating the target out, hopefully with two or three others."

There was something about Fenrir that Thorfinn could respect. Outside of his circle of Antonin and Rodolphus, he was rather keen on being sent out with the beast to handle cause business. They both seemed to like leaving a trail of red behind them. With the spell cast, Thorfinn glanced around. Ten. They could easily handle it, but there would be damage. "We can wait for the switch or handle it now?" He didn't care, his research done to make it easier for them.

"He would like to leave a message." That would answer the question being asked.

" i know i will be dead long before you read this but i want you to know that it was i who discovered your secret. "

—REGULUS A. BLACK

Reg kept his arms firmly around Caradoc, fingers running gently up and down his side to try and soothe him just a little bit. He'd been wrestling for days about what to tell Caradoc, and how to say it but he'd known that the news would not go down well. How could it? Regulus' family history was well known, but for Regulus himself to have been part of the army that wanted to eradicate Caradoc's blood status...he was amazed Caradoc was still here, frankly, never mind that he was curling into Reg for comfort.

"I'm definitely not in a position yet where I want to join the Order. It's tough, really tough...I'm turning my back on my family, my friends. But losing some family means I might regain my relationship with Andromeda, and maybe one day, with Sirius. I'm just not there yet to start truly, actively working against those I've always known on the other side of a battlefield," he said, the words tearing him up inside. Caradoc's quiet hope for the future had Reg's heart hammering in his chest, and he tilted Caradoc's chin upwards so that he could press a gentle kiss against his lips. "I'd like that. We need to make sure it's safe, but I don't want to keep you as my secret forever."

Gazing back at his boyfriend, Reg smiled warmly. "You know you're welcome here any time. My childhood home wasn't comfortable at all...everything was stiff, and proper and there was no space to just be at peace. This little home is...well, its everything I've ever wanted," Reg said fondly, glancing around the slice of the world that he had created for himself.

Caradoc leaned forward and rested his forehead on Regulus’s shoulder, calming down more and more as he listened to his words. The talk about being in danger certainly wasn’t comforting, but they were all in danger no matter what. He was just glad that Regulus was really on the Order’s side (not that he’d doubt it, but seeing the Dark Mark there had been super jarring).

“You don’t have to join the Order. I’m just glad that you’re giving them information. It could really help and prevent people from being killed. They will protect you, I’ll make sure of it. Maybe . . . Maybe, eventually, we could tell them about us,” Caradoc said, his voice quiet and soft. He knew it was silly to care about their relationship being a secret when their lives were at stake, but he needed something to focus on that wasn’t the danger constantly looming over them.

Caradoc leaned back, taking in the beauty of Regulus’s eyes. “I wish I could stay in your house,” he mused. “It’s so comforting in here.” Lately, he’d been disliking his flat more and more. It was small and didn’t have the proper wards set up.

Fenrir had warded the woods to prevent any unwanted visitors whilst they worked, wanting to be entirely undisturbed. "Mm...tried to run to the Order, thinking they could save him. He didn't understand that the Order are weak," Fenrir mused, watching Evelyn work. "No loss at all. In fact...I would say that he's a danger to our cause, wouldn't you? And those that are dangerous get dealt with properly," he crooned, crouching to look into the man's eyes before Evelyn rolled him over. "Not even worthy to become a wolf," he trailed his fingernails, sharpened into claws for such an occasion, up the man's arm till he reached the other man's neck which was wet with tears. Digging his nails in until a few beads of blood sprouted, Fenrir scoffed at the man's continuing pleas for forgiveness. "Only God can save you now, but unfortunately, hell has sent us instead."

Standing up straight again, Fenrir took a step back to watch Evelyn's next move. This was why he continued to put up with the Death Eaters and their never ending bullshit. The sheer joy of bringing a man to his knees, tasting true fear and pain and doling out punishments like a God. Throwing an arm around Evelyn's shoulders, Fenrir's own sick smile reflected hers. "I think he has, don't you?" Fenrir said, his tone full of uncharacteristic cheer. He moved towards the man again, rolling him back onto his front. He extended a hand, drawing the man to his feet. "Go on. If you can out run me, I'll let you go. No magic, no tricks. I'll even be nice and give you a ten second head start....so start running. Evelyn, would you be a dear and count us down?”

Who: @battle-scvrs -Fenrir Where: The Woods Outside Fenrir's Home

Evelyn considered the sniveling man on the ground between the two of them with a look of distaste. She so did enjoy the screams of pain, but must he make it so easy? "This is the deserter then?" Her voice held a note of disbelief as they traveled from the man whimpering on the ground up to Fenrir. "Certainly no loss then." She snorted, using her foot to force the man to roll onto his back. If he was so quick to crumble, to beg for forgiveness, then they were surely better off without him. He would have been a waste of a death eater, and fell apart after the first interrogation.

Still it felt good to be bad to business, she had plenty of built up energy, she only hoped that this lasted long enough for her to release it all. She tapped her wand gently against her side as she considered him, before a muttered crucio slipped free from her lips. Her lips curling up into delight as he screamed and curled in on himself. Just as quickly as it was over, the man once more panting and whimpering on the ground as he begged for them to stop. She sidled up beside Fenrir, a devious smile playing on her lips. "What do you think then handsome? Has he learned his lesson?" She was teasing at this point. She knew they were no where near done, and she was looking forward to watching Fenrir work. There was something enthralling about seeing him get violent, letting his nature take over.

Whether the Wyvern was a dive bar or not, Fenrir took pride in his work. He wouldn't serve standard pub grub just because that was what was expected, like the shit that they served at the Leaky. He worked hard at the small menu they offered, and all of the kitchen staff knew how to make each dish. Being called out of the kitchen his natural assumption was that it was to be a question about the food, so when the blonde woman started talking about how to reach him, Fenrir straightened his spine and mentally prepared for whatever was coming next. "I don't mind. It's my job after all, to be available for questions. Thanks," he accepted the praise, tone full of curiosity as to whatever was happening here.

Fenrir reached for the proffered clothing, eyeing it with an analytical gaze. "Protection you say? What sort of protection does it offer?" he asked, his gaze darting to the tables either side to ensure they weren't being watched. "I assume you know my name, Leta, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he said, loathe to introduce himself unless absolutely necessary. He shook her hand firmly, before he turned his attention back to the clothing. "Do I owe you for this?"

Whether it would seem silly to the one in question or not, Leta felt a visit was long overdue. The White Wyvern was a place the witch could be found only rarely, when occasion would strike. It was convenient such a moment had come; the blonde had found her way there. In fact, for the first time she’d even tried the food there. Somehow the establishment had always given the impression of being a simple place, more for the drinking type than those wishing to dine. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you out here, but I’m not entirely sure how to reach you.” Of course, Leta could have sent an owl. That seemed too harsh, impersonal. “First of all, since it seems rude otherwise. The food was nice.”

Slender hands reached to take a quick sip of the wine in front of her. “That aside, I came to give you this. Whether you wish to use it is entirely up to you.” It was simple clothing. Not the usual cloaks she’d have handed other death eaters. Given that she wasn’t all that familiar with the one in front of her, it seemed like the most basic of things. “I have made these for all that have joined. Simple protection against the unwanted.” The former Slytherin could only hope it would make sense to the one in front of her. “Oh, Leta Rosier. I work at Madam Malkin’s. If I feel like it.” Wasn’t that the truth. Dedicated, yet growing more and more accustomed to just working in her own workshop. The blonde offered her hand. Least she could do. - @battle-scvrs

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.”

There was a saying that Regulus perhaps should have remembered upon entry to the Lestrange household, and that was 'don't poke the bear'. Upon seeing Alecto's eyes, it was fairly clear to him that his humour and general wit was not welcome here presently, and he shot her a wide grin. It would intimidate him if not for the fact he knew he held a soft spot in her dark heart, and his parents had trained him to be able to take a beating. He mimed as if he was knitting to her, before holding his hands up in surrender. 'Sorry,' he mouthed, trying to school his features to look somewhat sheepish.

Despite being a little shit, Regulus didn't want to truly piss off one of the few people that was still in his corner.

An owl had been sent earlier to warn her of his appearance. She was inclined to send one back refusing his visit, but with being home from Hogwarts for the weekend, and no use of her needed for the cause at the moment, his presence wasn't entirely horrid.

Each word that uttered from his incompetent mouth ignited a fire inside of her, her fingers itching to wring his neck for being so insolent. Eyes narrowed like daggers at the young Black wizard, her wand in a close hand, where she pointed it at him. "Silencio" A single word held him tight lip. Alecto turns to face him. "It appears Regulus Black, you have forgotten your manners and who I am." A coldness to her tone, not unusual for her. "Do not make me regret allowing you over." She warns, taking a deep breath. "If I let you speak, will you behave? I will not hold back from torturing you if you try me."

Since Sirius abandoned him, Regulus had felt his absence like a knife in his chest that he could never remove. It ached and it burned, but slowly over time the pain had dulled as time and distance stretched between them. It was ever present, but duller. Asking after Sirius when speaking to Andromeda had been the first time in a long time that he'd said his brother's name out loud, and that itself had shaken him. Seeing his brother in the flesh, cool and unbothered by his summons, threatened to rob Regulus of the very air in his lungs as that aching burn returned. "I'm sure they have their reasons," he said, eyeing the chair beside Sirius before he chose to remain stood stiffly. "You...you're no longer part of this family, the aurors should know to exclude you from this. Unless...it's not really to do with an heirloom at all," Regulus said, wondering if any of Sirius' perfectly good friends were aurors.

Sirius leaned back lazily in his chair, the perfect image of indifference as he crossed one ankle over the other. Despite his display of ease and disinterest, he was observant and watchful, curious what he was called he for and on alert in case it was all more than it seemed. He couldn't fathom what Black artefact would be drawn back to him, well aware his mother would do anything she could to stop him getting his hands on any Black heirlooms. He glanced behind him as the door opened, carefully hiding his surprise as his brother walked in the door. "The same reason you're here, I'd imagine. Though if you're here I'm not sure why they've asked me to come."

Regulus rarely escaped the ministry on his lunch break, instead choosing to eat lunch at his desk so he could return to his work quickly. However, today had been difficult and so Regulus had made an escape into the fresh air that Diagon Alley afforded. The bustling crowds down the street weren't enough to put Regulus off buying a sugar quill from the sweet shop, a childhood favourite that still satisfied his sweet tooth more than anything else. He was chewing slowly on the quill and meandering towards Flourish and Blotts, quite content to spend the rest of his lunch break amongst the towering shelves until he found something new to take home and read. Feeling quite at peace, Regulus found himself wondering why he didn't pop out more regularly...until his eyes unwittingly fell upon his cousin, and his niece. Stopping dead in his tracks, Regulus couldn't drag his eyes away from the small toddler clinging to Andromeda's side. He should turn and go, should make known his disgust, he should curse them for being blood traitors....and yet he did nothing. "Andromeda," he said almost involuntarily, his voice so small and quiet that she may not have heard it at all. @tonksxandromeda

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.