" I Know I Will Be Dead Long Before You Read This But I Want You To Know That It Was I Who Discovered

(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.

Fenrir headed straight into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest plate of kitchen leftovers which he shovelled down. It was a mix of several dishes, but he'd been starving all day and food was food. Once he'd finished up, he tossed the plate into the sink, lazily casting a cleaning charm over it as he dug out his backpack of clothes. Shoving his dirty chefs whites into there once he'd changed, Fenrir would either head back later on to retrieve it or it would just remain here overnight depending on where the evening took them.

Nodding briskly at Thorfinn, Fenrir cast a quick goodbye over his shoulder to the owner. "Ready to go. Don't think I've ever eaten a pie so fast in my life," Fen said with a grin, prepared for the fun ahead of them. "See you there," he said, before twisting on the spot to apparate away.

Thorfinn took the shot that was being offered, downing it with his counterpart before he left. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room, at least this was a crowd of people he could be around, the odd one sticking out like a sore thumb. The wizard was curious where the night might lead him, but he was more than willing to get his hands dirty - it had been far too long since they last were.

Twenty minutes passed and he turned his attention to the door Fenrir went into, sliding off his stool when the male walked out, hands smoothing over his suit, robes waiting for them when it was time. "You ready to go?"

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.

Her response was even more confusing than the initial statement, and Regulus continued staring with his jaw agape. He truly couldn't understand Greta's world view. "You are one of the most baffling women I have ever met. If I never had to talk to anyone ever again in public, I would not mind it one bit."

"Of course I do. I love catching up with friends or meeting new people. And sometimes other people are in the shops for the same things you are and can give you advice or their opinion on something. It's incredibly helpful." Greta was a people person through and through, she had no problem walking up to someone and starting a conversation. Not talking to anyone all day would make her feel extremely lonely.

Fenrir knew the importance of showing his face, and he would normally do it without complaint - although his mood would vary depending on the company. Not only did his appearances solidify his position as someone useful to the cause, regardless of whether the Dark Lord deemed him worthy to be marked, but he was a leader of a growing pack of magical beasts and their influence would steadily grow if everything went to plan. Still, following on from them making their relationship official, Fenrir could think of little else as important as spending time with Pandora. "I know you do...and I have so many creative ways to keep you warm my darling," he said with a smirk, his hands settling on her hips as he held her up with ease.

Frowning briefly at the mention of Bellatrix, Fenrir considered the initial impact that the magic of the clock had. "Will she be able to use it to see the secret I revealed? Bellatrix's interest is a dangerous thing to play with. If you give her the artefact, she may start pressing for more."

Pandora hated those stuffy gala's and functions she was expected to go to because of her last name. She did not care for the people, one that did not like crowded places and overstimulation. Mostly whey she kept to herself. The two of them going away was true to who they were and she wouldn't let anyone take that away from her. Octavius seemed fine with her not there, though she didn't tell him the whole truth of what she was doing. "I like when you keep me warm." A squeaks errupts from her lips when he turns to pick her up, legs and arms wrapping around their respective areas. A satisfied smile forms on her lips, eyes meeting. "I do like this way better." She always felt safe in his arms. "And I like the warmth that comes off you.

She trusted Fenrir, and knew he would be honest with her. "Bellatrix is interested in the clock. I've got it to work, our magic is bound around it and will have no effect on us. Do I give it to her?"

Regulus didn't want James Potter to burrow his way under his skin again like he had those years ago. It had been too easy back then, and it would be too easy now. Reg wanted to build the walls back between them again - it was more comfortable behind his walls of steel where there was less risk of his heart shattering all over again. Regulus took a step backwards, putting physical distance between them. "I don't wanna talk about it. I don't wanna talk about it, I don't want to talk about Sirius, I don't want to talk about...being your dirty secret," he said, catching the way James' eyes had darted away. "I don't want to talk to you any more at all, actually," he said harshly, feeling the sudden need to get home and hide underneath a blanket.

Frowning deeply at James' question, Reg pulled a face. "Of course I have. What, did you think I'd just...be sitting around pining for you? I made that mistake once. Never again," he sneered, before shoving a vial of jewelweed in James' direction. "I expect your undying thanks," he said, not saying a goodbye before he turned to head towards the counter.

Despite the years of distance between them, it was like Regulus was right there, inside his mind. James supposed it was like picking up an old favourite book. You may forget individual words, but the sentiment felt familiar. How James thought wasn't that different, between then and now. "I'm not... lumping you in with him," James said, eyebrows slightly furrowing in confusion. "Sorry if it came across like that. You're a long way from being just his brother, but you don't need me to tell you that." He nodded. "I know. We don't... need to talk about this." His words were careful, slow, quiet. Almost reflexively, his eyes left Regulus' at length, to look around, just for a moment. Making sure nobody was listening in out of habit. Suddenly, he was seventeen again. He felt horrible about it immediately.

"Moved on?" Again, it was too late, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He shook his head. How had he wound up in this situation? Perhaps the sleeplessness was getting to him. "Come on, Reg. Please. You made your point." It was for a potion for his father, who wasn't feeling very well. "In that case, I'll make sure it's an extra cool one. Doing a backflip or something. Although that's nothing to you, I know." He offered a small smile. "Sure, I have no insight into your life, which is... fair enough, but I do hope you're at least still flying."

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."

Alecto shifted in her position sat in the lounge chair, finding the cushions uncomfortable, yet a stoic expression remained rooted on her features, unwilling to shed any emotion around the beast. The odd concept was, if he was not the beast he was, she was certain the two would get along well enough. They shared a creative insight when it came to methods that intrigued them. "I will, if it's necessary."

"Perhaps you might wish to choose your wording carefully, if you do not like what others might have to say in return." A nonchalant drop of her shoulders. "Are we done with this topic?" Alecto was, and he was wasting her time.

Alecto wished not to physical harm Angus, it would ruin the work that went behind making the alliance and the part that she played, and knew it would upset the Dark Lord. She took mental note of what was being shared, giving a small nod of her head. "I think that will suffice. I do not take kind to be treated like an object." Something she could use against him if he tried to make another move on her, at least now she was married and soon to be a mother, perhaps he'd have a little more respect. "If there is something you need, I shall return the favour."

Regulus had tried to pick a quiet time to visit Diagon Alley, but it seemed that no time these days was ever truly quiet. Even with the ongoing war, people still didn't seem to shy away from large crowds or bustling busy areas. Drawing his coat tighter around himself, Regulus tried to shrink into himself so as to not draw attention. If his parents were with him, they would chastise him for not holding himself in a manner befitting the Black heir. Slipping quietly into the Apothecary, Regulus didn't take stock of any other customers in the store as he began browsing the various bottles. At the sound of footsteps and someone clearing their throat directly behind him, Regulus straightened his spine and turned slightly. "I'm browsing this shelf at the moment, you'll have to wait."

At the woman's suggestion, Fenrir considered it for a moment. "Gruyere is an incredible suggestion. I did think about using a goats cheese, or a sheeps cheese to add depth I might do that for a smaller side dish rather than the main menu. Maybe some chargrilled leeks with goats cheese, a little bit of balsamic drizzle..." Fenrir would have to try it at home before he started messing about with his finely tuned menu here. "You can have the recipe if you like."

"You know which cheese could also work really well with this? A Gruyére. Or some aged red wine cheese. They have that sharpness that cheddar has but it's more layered." Talking about cheese was her favorite past time. "I'll have to try to make that at home one time. I doubt it'll be as good as yours, but I'll try my best."

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."