The Childish Part Of Him That Regulus Had Thought Was Long Dead Seemed Like It Was Fighting To Get Out

Regulus glanced back at Frank's basket again before plucking some ginger from the shelf and dropping it into the other man's basket. "I hear ginger's quite helpful for warding off sickness. Make her some teas or something," he offered, recalling from an advanced potions book he'd read a few years back. "Nothing like a screaming mandrake to ward off potential burglars," he said with a small smile, before the smile quickly vanished. "I think it might be too late to stop the passage of time...maybe I can study it though, at the ministry. See what I can do."

"It's gotta be a fake moustache...gotta commit, y'know. It can't be Regulus Black's shitty moustache. Maybe I should use a hair growth potion."

"Thanks," Frank said, sorting the ingredients to make sure he'd have enough for the few other things he had to pick up. "Now I'm definitely picking you up some other ingredients when I come back. I might plant a few for our apartment, they're good for security as well. Then I won't have to buy as many. Tell time to give you a break, you're too young for it to do so much damage."

He laughed before he could help himself, smothering his smile when the shopkeeper gave them both a confused look. "Well future Albert, it will be a pleasure to meet your mustachioed future self."

The streets of Hogsmeade would always make Cassandra feel warm and nostalgic, no matter how many years passed since she had left Hogwarts. She'd spent a small fortune in Honeydukes before heading into the Three Broomsticks where she'd settled herself in a corner near the fire with a butterbeer. Her nose was buried into a book detailing the latest in runic magic when she spotted someone approaching her from the corner of her eye. "I'm not working at the moment. If you need healing, could you speak to someone else please?" she asked without looking up.

Regulus had received Bellatrix's invitation to tea with a certain degree of dread. He cared for his cousin, he truly did, but it could not be denied that the eldest Black was intense. In his heart of hearts, Regulus knew she wanted the best for him...but the way in which she went about it exhausted him, and now as he grew ever more conflicted the last thing he needed was for his cousin to sit and pry, or to diminish his magical ability. Still, an invitation to Bellatrix's home was not one that could be ignored - and at the end of the day, Regulus desperately ached to make someone proud of him and he did care for his cousin, even if she mildly terrified him sometimes.

As soon as Regulus set foot on Lestrange soil, he took a moment to ensure that his mental walls of occlumency were firmly in place before he approached the parlour. He didn't trust Bellatrix not to quietly probe his mind as they shared tea, and he had too much to protect to risk her catching wind of his thoughts. He shot a tight smile back, crossing the room to take the offered seat.

"Afternoon, Bella," he reached for the cup of tea, letting the scolding heat of the cup centre him. "I avoid everyone, cousin. I wouldn't take it personally," he said, grateful for his historic grumpiness to fall back on. Whenever he visited Bella in her home, he was struck by how much she fit here as a proper pureblooded lady, and how meagre his small terraced house seemed in comparison. "Mm...your ability with the dark arts is second only to the Dark Lord himself, I know you could teach me better than Rabastan," he said, offering her some flattery in the hopes that it would soothe whatever was coming next. "It would be quite rude of me to abandon Rabastan's dutiful teaching when we have gotten this far...I was improving recently," he said, though he grimaced remembering the panic attack he'd experienced out on the field. Thank Merlin he was masked, and Rabastan hadn't seen the true panic he'd been experiencing. "Rabastan is a perfectly adequate tutor."

Starter for: Regulus Black @battle-scvrs Where: Bellatrix & Rodolphus's home (a smaller manor on the Lestrange Estate) When: lunchtime

It was hardly Bellatrix's style to be domesticated. Yet she'd invited her youngest cousin for tea, knowing it was his favourite beverage. She'd given him more than enough space by now, to the point where the physical distance was beginning to make her itch. She was an intensely emotional witch. Though calculating and meticulous when it mattered, she was driven by passion - and at present, her passion lay with ensuring that Regulus was well. She did care. It was a skewed, obsessive sort of adoration, but it was genuine nonetheless and she would stop at nothing to ensure his wellbeing.

Once he joined her in the parlour, she looked up over the top of a copy of the Daily Prophet, the headline boasting a particularly wonderful depiction of the Dark Mark floating over muggle London. Paused with momentarily shrewd study, her eyes glittered over his appearance. Then she neatly folded the paper and smiled, patting the seat next to her in invitation.

"Hello, cousin." Glancing sideways, she slid the paper onto the table and reached for the teapot, her length of raven hair obscuring her features before she looked back up with dark petulance. "I got bored of you avoiding me, so here we are." Handing him a cup of tea, she then poured one for herself and sat back. Crossing one leg over the other, she looked very much like 'lady of the manor'. It lasted all but a few seconds before her eyes narrowed. "Why must you spend so much time with Rabastan? You know I would teach you far more and take you further than he ever will." Was she jealous? Absolutely. Grateful? To her chagrin, also true. As much as she loathed to acknowledge, it was convenient that her brother-in-law had taken the boy under his wing. She'd been alarmed to hear about his little blip during a recently incident - freezing while being attacked, indeed. Rabastan had been diplomatic when updating her, but she was not an idiot. She saw that Rabastan was trying to keep secrets from her. It wouldn't do.

The longer he sat there, the heavier the weight of Lucius' judgment seemed to be. They were family now, and Regulus' family seemed to be dwindling every time he blinked. He ached for more - not that he thought he would find that in Lucius Malfoy. It was the pureblooded way to be like this with family, and Regulus was tired of constantly second-guessing himself around those who were meant to care. He was alone in the world, more alone than ever, and he was trying to cling to any sort of familial relationship he had - including that with his new, judgy cousin-in-law. "Hmm, maybe....but this is tastier. I've got Black family genes, I'm all skin and bones, I don't need to worry about eating several pies," he shrugged, pushing his plate away. Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, Reg looked at Lucius and asked "how are you adjusting to having Narcissa's hobbies in your home? She's got a fascinating collection," he commented, curious as to how Lucius was adjusting to that. "Happy wife, happy life...that's what they say, right? Not that I'd know."

Lucius took a moment to let his attention drift from the pie on the table, up to the wizard in front of him. Words hung on the tip of his tongue, ready to judge on the need to eat two pies, though, they faded away, not in the mood to end up in any real banter. He wanted a night to relax from his duties he did earlier before heading home to his wife.

"You do not think substance might be better?" Get a proper meal in to fuel him. "The food here isn't that horrid." He had better at other establishments. "Married life is fine." They had spent a lot of time together, but it was nice knowing that at the end of the night, she did not have to leave, a comfort waking up to her beside him. "That is good to know. I do not like when she is unhappy."

Awaiting Thorfinn's appearance, Fenrir had begun sizing up the cottage in the distance. If he had to guess, he would say the place was heavily warded, though it didn't appear to have been made unplottable. At the crack of apparition, Fenrir turned to face Thorfinn and he didn't have to ask for further information before the other man offered it freely. "Witness protection," he snorted, twisting his wand in between his fingers. "What good has witness protection ever done anyone?"

"I'm always ready for fun," he said, starting to edge his way a little closer to the cottage though he stayed hidden in the tree line. "You've watched the patrols?" he asked, turning his wand on himself to cast a disillusionment charm over himself. "I don't know why we can't just kill the patrols...we can deal with whatever reinforcements they send."

Thorfinn finished his drink, watching the other come out from the back, changed and ready to go. There was nothing like having a good hunt and extracting some information. That seemed to be the go to for them. The more information they had, the better it would be for them. "See you there."

With a small twist, he popped from the white wyvern, coming out in a small clearing where a cottage stood off in the distance. He turned to find Fenrir standing there. "Corey Adler. He worked for the Minister of Magic, and was put under witness protection, and I wonder why." The last week, he had learned when patrol switch off happened and found a way to break the wards. "You ready to have a little fun. In five minutes we'll have enough time to break through and enter without anyone seeing us."

Staring at Andromeda in a state of something almost akin to shell-shock, Regulus didn't quite know what to do with himself. Finishing his sugar quill quickly before stuffing his hands into his pocket, Regulus could practically hear his mother's shrill voice shrieking in his ear that he should take this opportunity to make Andromeda regret ever leaving them. He'd never had much of a taste for violence, especially not for an older cousin that he had once cared for...and he certainly couldn't bring himself to harm a child, even if that child was a half-blood with shocking green hair. The dark mark burned into his forearm was itching in her presence, a burning reminder of what ideologies he had signed his life away to...and yet, there was something that held him back.

He took a small step closer to them. In all these years, he'd never seen Nymphadora Tonks in person - he'd only heard the bitterness of his family's curses when the birth was announced, and if he'd spotted someone that looked vaguely like Andromeda in the past, he'd quickly turned and gone the other way like a coward. Not this time. With a quick glance to ensure there were no eyes watching them, Regulus nodded curtly towards the small child. "It's nice to meet you, Dora. Do you like sugar quills? I have another if your mother will allow it," he said, eyes drifting up to Andromeda. Maybe it was a poor imitation of a peace offering, or maybe he simply couldn't bring himself to be a dick to a small child that shared his blood. "It's been many years, Andromeda. I was beginning to think I might never see you again, privately or publicly. Do you...still see Sirius?" He asked rather pathetically, with the small voice of a boy that still ached at the loss of his big brother.

A day free from work at St Mungos was rather rare for Andromeda. She tended to work her usual hours along with more on top of it. However her bosses had decided it was necessary for her to take time off, lest she end up exhausted or sick due to neglecting her own needs. Most would have taken the opportunity to spend the day at home. She however had seen it as an opportunity to spend the day with her daughter in Diagon Alley. They’d just finished their ice cream at Floreans when Dora had begged to go and see the owls. Unable to say no, she’d held on to Dora as they made their way down the cobblestone street. While she knew Dora was capable of walking on her own, it made her nervous when her daughter was prone to change appearance at will. As seen by the way her daughter had already changed her hair to a brilliant shade of green to match the ice cream she’d just ate.

She didn’t know what made her look up from her daughter, only the sense of eyes on the two of them. She looked up and her eyes immediately found Regulus, her heart clenching in her chest. Years ago, she may have chosen to just leave, take Dora and head in the opposite direction. But she’d long ago refused to stop running. So instead she continued to guide Dora in that direction, her eyes not leaving her cousin. “Hello Regulus…” Perhaps he hated her like the rest of her family, but there was no knowing unless she tried. So she motioned to her daughter, running her fingers through her mess of green hair. “Dora….this is Regulus.” Her uncle, but she wasn’t prepared to use that title on someone who may not deserve it.

Privately, Regulus wondered how many of these friends truly considered Greta a friend, and how many had been coerced into an entirely insane conversation like he seemed to have been. He could leave, but something about the witch kept his feet firmly in place. Perhaps it was his sheer confusion at the woman's outlook on life. "I'm perfectly fine with the friends I have, I have no need for more. Maybe they could, but if we haven't got there yet, I don't need it," he shrugged. There were already too many people meddling in his life. "A strong glass of whiskey?"

"I have a lot of friends and I always want to make more. There are so many people I haven't met yet. Who knows, maybe they could become some of my closest friends?" She always saw the world in a positive light, or at least she tried her hardest to do so. Greta held on to that positivity amongst the chaos surrounding them. "Well you make one conversation, then the next. And so on. And before you noticed, you purposefully spend time together, tea, coffee, drinks."

Much of the war was still being conducted in shadow. The Dark Lord had not made a grand claim for power yet, he hadn't grasped at the ministry - those things would come. The fact that the Dark Lord wanted to keep his true plans hidden for now didn't change the fact that people were being cut down on battlefields, that people had life changing injuries, and families were being shattered in the process. It was war in every way, and it was growing worse with each passing day. As Caradoc fell silent, Regulus picked his wand up again and continued patching up his boyfriend as best as he could. He wasn't an outstanding healer, but it would do for now.

"You did what you had to in the heat of battle. When faced with opponents who will use the killing curse without thought, sometimes stunners simply won't work. They may not be able to find out. He does have a daughter," Reg nodded in confirmation. "But if there weren't witnesses, they may not be able to figure it out." He froze at Caradoc's pleading, and he was torn. He wanted to protect Caradoc, but he knew that it was putting himself at unnecessary risk. "...I promise," he said after a beat of silence. "But if they come for you, I will fight on your side. I want you to know that. If it means breaking my cover early...we'll just have to deal with it."

“This is war.”

For some reason, those words of Regulus’s rang in his ears. Memories of his father teaching him about all of Britain’s wars, but mainly World War I and World War II, in the hot summer air, flashed through his mind. Stories of fallen soldiers, the looks on his parents faces when he solemnly told them about the war in the Wizarding World and the danger muggle-borns and muggles were in. Instead of understanding him, accepting him like he thought they finally might, they just held Caradoc’s younger siblings tighter and told him that if he wasn’t going to give up a life of magic, he could leave. They didn’t express any concern at all for their eldest son or the position he was in.

“I killed a Death Eater,” he repeated, a little louder this time as he had to repeat it to believe it. “The Death Eaters will find out and they will want to know who did it. He—he has a daughter, I think. I don’t know if she’s aligned with the Death Eaters or not. I should look into that . . . Somehow, I’m in even more danger than before. Reg, you have to promise me you won’t do anything risky. If you try to protect me, they’ll know you’ve betrayed them.” He looked at his boyfriend with pleading eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

Sometimes, Fenrir wondered how simple and foolish wizards had to be to miss the signs of a werewolf that were right under their nose. He knew that Remus Lupin tried to keep his condition under wraps, to live a normal life - as if he could ever be normal whilst resisting his true nature, his true self. Yet it was plainly obvious to Fenrir that the other man was a wolf, suffering with the after effects of the full moon. How the younger man had made it through seven years worth of schooling and now several years of adult life without his condition being realised, Fenrir was not quite certain.

It bolstered him though, knowing that he could continue growing his pack, and the wider population of werewolves without too much ministry attention falling on his head. If they could hardly see what was plainly at the end of their noses, then they would not see what happened in the Scottish highlands, or the New Forest. Before they knew it, Voldemort would be the least of their concerns.

Remus' refusal to look at him riled Fenrir, but he continued to keep his hand firmly on the other man's shoulder. "That's a shame. It's not meant to be difficult, Remus. It's a beautiful thing, what we are. We are the supreme species...we should love the moon, not fear it."

The full moon always took its toll on Remus. He had been through numerous months of the struggle but still had difficulty. He couldn't get over the fact that he was a werewolf. It had destroyed who he felt he was -- or who he should be. Life would have been so much easier if Fenrir had never changed him. It wasn't fair that the young child had been afflicted because of his father's actions. Little Lupin did nothing to deserve it. With being five years old when he was changed, one would think he would be used to it but he always felt the pain, both physical and mental. It was terrifying each month.

The days following the full moon left Remus feeling unlike himself as he was still healing but it didn't stop him from going to the bookstore. At least he had an easy job. It was one where he could relax among the books and the most help he had to do was talk books. And he had to organize, dust and just keep the store in order. He was able to do such tasks while reading in between.

However, on this very day Remus was going to open Flourish and Blott's when a hand reached his shoulder and a familiar voice chilled through his bones. Fenrir Greyback. "Difficult night. Yeah," he responded not turning around.

Pandora never seemed to shy away from him, and it was that amongst other things that kept drawing him back. A firm hand pressed against the small of her back, pressing her to him. When the two of them were like this, the rest of the world seemed to fade away - there was only the curious, beautiful witch in front of him, and the hours that they could snatch away for themselves. Desire burned within his veins at the brief sharpness of her teeth, and he hummed a noise of approval. "Over, and over again," he vowed with a smirk.

Pandora's attention felt almost as powerful as the spell that had held him, though he knew that she was looking with a curious eye to see whether the magic worked. He'd spotted the brief flash of surprise in her eyes, though he knew that he had made it clear that Magnus was his only family. Anders Greyback was an unwelcome memory, but that was all. Fenrir hardly thought of the older man at all these days, and the only time he did was on mornings when he woke up with Magnus after the full moon and saw his son recovering better than young Fenrir ever had cooped away in that cellar under his father's hateful eyes.

Brushing the decades old bitterness towards his father away as Pandora summed up his patricide with simple words, Fenrir couldn't help but agree. "Fucking arsehole is more like it," he said, moving his arms to support her as she jumped him. "Oh, I know I am," he grinned, walking a few steps backwards to a nearby tree that he could press Dora against. After a few moments, he drew back ever so slightly, speaking against her lips. "Are we going back to mine? Do you need that clock still?"

A shiver rippled down Pandora's spine with the words he confessed to her. There were those she spent time with, but there was an appeal when she was the object of their desire and wanted to take her. Her teeth grazed along his bottom lip when he pulled from the kiss, a wanton need burning in her amber hues from him. The last thing she ever wanted to do was to tame Fenrir, it was his beast that called to her, captured her in this world they had built within the woods. "I know you will. You always make good on your word." There was sexual innuendo wrapped in her words, the anticipation slowly breaking her.

There was an intimacy formed being confined in his arms with him helping her achieve success with her spell. That he would be willing to take a risk for her and Fenrir would never know how much that would mean to her. Intent hues studies his facial features, his words, they surprised her, but she did not judge him. Pandora knew there was more to the story and when he was ready, he would tell her - her attention turned elsewhere.

An ecstatic smile appeared on her lips. It worked. Pandora couldn't contain the feelings that swirled inside of her, that all she wanted to do was to celebrate with him. "He was probably a jerk anyway." The words slipped free and she didn't waste time, wrapping her arms around his neck and jumping up that she could coil her legs around his waist. "You are so sexy." She murmured softly before capturing his lips in a heated kiss.