For The Second Time In A Week, Regulus Found Himself In The Aurors Office. An Urgent Summons Had Awaited

When the owl landed on his desk with a letter from Rosmerta to say that she had closed the deal on the Three Broomsticks, Kingsley immediately sent one back to say he'd be there as soon as his shift finished to celebrate with her. The next few hours felt like they were dragging which was a feeling Kingsley rarely had at work given how much he loved his job, but he ached to go and celebrate with his friend. As soon as he could, Kingsley disapparated to Hogsmeade where it had already started to get dark out. Ducking into the Hogs Head first, Kingsley had to throw down a few extra knuts down to get the 'beef' stew to take out. Casting a warming charm to keep it hot as he made his way back up the high street, Kingsley strode up to the door of the Three Broomsticks and nudged it open with his foot.

Setting the tubs of food down on the nearest table, Kingsley's eyes searched Rosmerta's before he beamed at her. "You, my brilliant friend, are the only person on this Earth that I would risk my life for by eating Aberforth's stew. Come here, I'm so proud of you," he said, drawing his friend into a hug. @ofxsorcery

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.”

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.

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."

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.

If he was honest, Regulus was surprised that Sirius had even agreed to meet. Their last encounter had been tense and trained at best, and downright awful at worst. Much like when he'd reached out to Andromeda, he wouldn't have blamed Sirius if he'd declined and left it at that. The fact that this had had to be arranged via an auror was appalling enough, but their relationship was what it was - there had been damage on both sides, and he wasn't sure there was anything left to repair. But Regulus would never forgive himself if his brother heard from someone else that Regulus had started co-operating with the Order, and regardless of Sirius' response to that, he wanted it to come from his own mouth.

He flicked his wand towards the door as Sirius knocked, and then magically closed it behind him before he quickly ensured the wards he'd set were still in place. He froze his pacing, studying his brother's face silently for a moment. Sirius didn't want to be here. All of his practiced words were suddenly evading him, and Regulus frowned back. "Did Edgar tell you anything about why you're here? Or...are you in the dark?"

Sirius was in a foul humour. He had had a shitty week and a shitty Christmas, making him wish quickly for the new year to come and wash the traces of it away. His bad mood wasn't helped by the meeting that had been in the back of his mind all day. When Edgar had talked to Sirius about meeting up with Regulus, Sirius had as good as laughed in his face. Whatever Regulus had to say Sirius had very little interest in, their relationship having been severed a long time ago. But despite the frown on his face all day, and telling himself it wasn't worth going, Sirius pulled his hood over his head as he left work and rushed through the rain to The Leaky Cauldron.

He kept his hood up as he made his way through the pub, hoping it would make it easier to get through without being noticed. He tugged it down as he reached the appropriate door, running his hand through his hair with a sigh before he knocked on the door. What did he have to lose? He stepped in as the door opened, closing it behind him with a frown on his face. He just nodded at his brother in greeting.

If Regulus was deeply, truly honest with himself, he had never felt the level of devotion to the Dark Lord that other members of his family seemed to. He wasn't sure exactly how deep Cissa's devotion to the Dark Lord ran but he was loathe to ask the question, given he felt it would have landed him in this exact situation - staring across a table at Bellatrix. Bella's devotion to the Dark Lord was unrivalled, and her devotion to her remaining family members was also unquestionable but it was that intensity that had sent Regulus spinning away because he knew his own devotion did not go nearly as deep. His devotion to the Dark Lord came from a desperate need to please people, to be good and to be wanted. The more time that passed, the more obvious it was becoming that trying to please people was ripping him apart.

Refusing to flinch as Bellatrix snapped in his direction, Regulus narrowed his eyes, head tilting slightly as he considered her words. "Is it that the Dark Lord needs to know everything, or is it your desperate need for control over us, cousin? You want to keep me and Cissa close because you're scared, and it's....fucking hell, it's too much. I don't see what good the knowledge of my brief pause on a battlefield does for the Dark Lord, but I see what it is doing for you. I doubt you've even been to the Dark Lord at all with this information," he said coolly. "Fuck, Bella. What if I'm happy being low level cannon fodder? I don't need to be in the highest ranks, I've barely got enough time to cope with the amount of missions I'm being given as it is, between training and work. I'm just fine without additional responsibility," he snapped, hardly realising that he'd announced his lack of ambition without a second thought.

The tension in the room as they ate biscuits was so thick Regulus could have carved through it with a knife, but instead he chose to reach for another biscuit from the floating plate as Bella poured him more tea. His gaze was hard and firm as he watched her, not daring to take his eyes away for even a second.

Sighing heavily at her request, Regulus reached for his wand. He could demand that she vowed it to him, but he would take her word for what it was. The swiftness of her curse finally made him flinch away from his cousin, and Reg frowned deeply. The difference in their ability was palpable even now - her wordless curse had been explosive, and Regulus's verbal spell would not do anywhere near as much damage. "Avada Kedavra," he said, using his frustration with the afternoon's events to fuel the curse which he sent shooting at a marble bust on the other side of the room. "My avada is fine," he said, having always been adept with the killing curse. It did the least harm of the three unforgivables as it was quick and easy, and if he had to kill, he wanted to do it swiftly. "Like I said, Rabastan and I are working on the other two. My imperio is improving."

Bellatrix knew his struggles - some of them, anyway. They shared a sibling fleeing from the family. The Blacks were no saints, but they were an establishment with certain reputations to uphold, and since Sirius and Andromeda had pissed off without so much as a second glance, it was left to the rest of them to pick up the pieces. Bellatrix may have looked at Regulus and mourned the fact that he could never live up to his older brother. But even she could see the hypocrisy in her own attitude, knowing how her parents had turned to her and Cissa to compensate for Andromeda's loss. Bellatrix had always been too brash, too unruly. She had achieved much, but she would never be able to fulfil the role they'd wished for Andromeda. Her parents would get no well-behaved duty from her, only an unwanted warrior. She counted herself lucky for marrying Rodolphus - yet another act that her parents perhaps regretted. The Lestranges, at least, valued her true nature. So she saw Regulus's faults, but she didn't blame him for them. She only wanted to assist him, to ease his efforts. But the stubborn little shit kept pushing her away.

It did not take too much effort to maintain the icy silence. As flamboyant as she was, she knew how to strike fear into men's hearts. It was with the sudden dissipation of her extravagance. It was the calm before the storm, though in this instance, the tempest would not be too great. She was keeping herself on a leash, determined to run a ring around Regulus before he could even realise she had done it. His persistent objections were becoming repetitive and - frankly - boring. He needed to change his attitude.

"Regulus," she snapped despite herself. "Nothing is ever fucking private, because we are the Dark Lord's servants and HE needs to know EVERYTHING. Yes, I pushed Rabastan for a true report because I could tell the smarmy wretch was keeping secrets. There can be no secrets in the highest ranks, and that is where you belong. You will not be low level cannon fodder, you will be one of the most trusted even if I have to burn myself to a crisp to get you there."

Now they both looked like petulant teenagers, nibbling on their biscuits and glaring at each other over the delicately spiced crumbs. Just to stop herself from retorting further, Bellatrix shoved the last half of her biscuit into her mouth and chewed on it noisily, leaning forward to pour them both more tea. This time when she heaped her sugar, she stirred it rampantly.

"Show me," she demanded more calmly, after swallowing what had become an unpleasant mush of ginger stodge. "Show me your curses, then I promise I will leave you be." He could take her word for it. She could lie without a second thought, but with her family she was nothing but brutally honest. Raising her own wand, she shot a jet of Avada green at a rather expensive vase gifted to her by the Mulcibers on her wedding day. The gesture was effortless, hardly any thought behind it. There was only the savage desire to kill, and it showed in the explosive way that the item shattered and flew across the room. "Take your pick of object, I really don't care what you destroy."

"There's a lot of damage in both of those relationships. I did see Andromeda recently, I spoke to her about some of the mess going on in my brain...it was helpful," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips which disappeared as he thought about his brother. "Sirius is a...well, I think it's going to be much more difficult to fix whatever's there. He's strong-willed, we both are. But I want to try, and that has to count for something, right?" Regulus rambled, still unsure exactly how to go about speaking to Sirius about all of this. After all, Sirius had cut all contact with him since leaving home. "My dear, do you want me to come and cast silencing charms? I might be terrible at offensive magic, but warding homes and making them private is something I've forced myself to learn expertly," Reg offered, certain that if he was to publicly leave the Death Eaters then his ability to protect any dwellings he was in would become more important than simply protecting his privacy.

As he continued to keep his arms around Caradoc, Reg felt him relaxing more with each passing minute. Dropping another kiss against the crown of his head, Reg considered the other man's words carefully. "While you're still somewhat unknown, that may be a good idea. If our relationship gets out, a forged ID won't help you...not against my cousin anyway," Reg scrunched his nose up in distaste, thinking about how terrible Bellatrix's wrath would be. "But it's a good idea for now anyways. Things are getting worse, but I'm hoping that with some of the information I'll pass on to Edgar that the tide will start to shift, even slightly."

“It would be great if you could talk to Andromeda and Sirius again,” Caradoc said with a smile. He didn’t know Andromeda very well, but he admired her bravery for standing up to her family and following her heart to be with Ted Tonks. As for Sirius, they weren’t very close, but they were in the Order of the Phoenix together. “I might make it a habit to spend more time here, then. My upstairs neighbors are awfully noisy.” He chuckled, even though it was true.

He felt much more relaxed - protected - now that they had had this conversation. Every single day, Caradoc was on edge, worrying that he was going to be attacked or someone he cared about was going to be put in danger. “You know,” he began. “I was thinking of . . . Getting a forged I.D. Something that says I’m a half-blood, at least. I’ve heard that a couple other muggle-borns are doing it. It hadn’t crossed my mind before but . . . The other day I got stopped by a some guy in Diagon Ally. Don’t think he was a Death Eater, but he was definitely aligned with their ‘cause’. He knew me somehow, and he pushed me around a bit. When I pulled my wand out, he backed off, but . . .” He shrugged. “Things just seem to be getting worse and worse.”

Before James had arrived, Regulus had been occluding heavily to prevent the Order member reading his mind should they possess the ability to do so. As he'd let his wand clatter down to the table, Regulus had let those mental walls drop slightly - still present as ever, but not as heavy as he had been before. There was little in his life that Regulus had to himself - his memories and his thoughts were all he could cling to. "Other developments," he said, offering no further context. "I never stopped caring. That was never the issue, James, and you know it," he said, levelling James with a firm stare. Perhaps he wasn't just talking about Sirius any more, though he'd never admit it if pressed. "I know I can't control what he thinks, but I can control the way that he finds out and the manner it's delivered. It won't take away from what I have done previously either, and I fear that's all he'll look at. Oh, Sirius has been through a lot has he? And that gives him the right to react poorly, but not me the right to want to deliver the news myself? We've all been through a lot, James," Regulus said, immediately getting his back up at James' defence of Sirius. For all Regulus knew, Sirius had left the family home and had an easy ride of it all. "Oh, I think he might. Your precious Order was his thing, and now his little brother's back riding his coat-tails yet again."

The sharp sting of his nails against his skin helped to ground Regulus somewhat, aching to tear the Dark Mark off though he knew it wasn't possible. He abandoned his forearm to grasp the mug of beer, before he smiled though there was no humour behind it. "Pretty hard to undo twenty years worth of thoughts. They're all tangled up in my brain, dark vines weaving around each other. It's just...me," he said with a small frown. "You can't protect me from myself, James," he said gently. "A good son is someone who does his duties well, who marries well and continues the family name. Who explores the Dark Arts and furthers pure-blooded ideology. A good Death Eater is similar - he knows his duties, he focuses on the ideology, he pledges his undying devotion to the Dark Lord and he explores the dark arts and wields them without second thought. It's quite simple, really, if I didn't hate every bit of it." Regulus wasn't lying. He understood all of it - he knew what was expected of him, and up until now he had done it without outward complaint. It was simple in theory, until he started to see the harm he was doing and the reality of what would be to come if the Dark Lord won.

As James asked what more the Order could do, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, shaking his head. "I'm no strategist, or leader. But facing the Order from the other side...half of you don't even appear to be accomplished duelists. Do you have field healers, strategists who can think on their feet if something goes against plan? And how many of your Order members won't touch even a simple curse? You need to get comfortable using curses, even the darker ones...I'm not saying unforgivables because I know you won't cross that line. But if you have 10 Order members who want to stun and disarm and 10 Death Eaters who are willing to kill and maim to get what they want, my money is on the Death Eaters every time. Using only defensive magic is going to gain no ground."

Sighing deeply, Regulus took another long sip of his beer. "Maybe it's not entirely true, but when you're suffocating under relenting pressure, that's how it feels like. I don't know how to live without feeling like I have to perform for people like a fucking court jester," he said. "You can't possibly imagine what it's like having lessons to teach you to be better at curses that torture and control people, and I hope you never do. You're too good for that, Potter. I can see that you don't wanna talk about all my sins, so I'll...we'll leave it there," he said, wondering if this would forever change the way James looked at him.

Leaning back into his chair, Regulus' gaze followed James' movements as he took a long drink. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he tried to make sense of the change in tone. "James, c'mon man. Don't be like that," he said, not daring to put what he thought James' tone meant into words. "I can practically feel you itching to ask the question, though I'm not sure you actually want the answer. It's Caradoc."

If he didn't think it was an outrageous violation of privacy, James might've wished to be a Legilimens in that moment so that he could find out what Regulus was thinking, to know whether it was similar to what was going through his own head. He wondered vaguely whether Regulus could read his mind. Although he wouldn't be too surprised if he could, James sincerely hoped not. He wasn't sure how he'd recover. "Other developments?" James quirked an eyebrow. He bit back a comment about how he didn't know he was still in contact with Andy, because, at the end of the day, there was a lot else James didn't know about Regulus any more; if they opened this Pandora's box, he wouldn't know if they'd ever stop. "Being scared is a good thing, sometimes, I think. Means you still care," he said. He looked at him earnestly. "Honestly, Reg, you're not in control of what he thinks. I get that it's Sirius, and of course, he means a lot… I know more than anyone … but that's not your burden to bear. It won't take away from what you've done no matter what his immediate gut reaction to it is. And know that however he reacts is because he cares, too. He's just been through a lot." That was an understatement. He'd defend Sirius until his dying breath, over anyone. But James realised what that sounded like, and quickly added, "Not that I think he's going to react badly."

Not missing the way Regulus' hand went to his forearm, James almost squirmed, but masked this visceral reaction of disgust by summoning two mugs of Wizard's brew from the bar downstairs. He levitated one of them to set itself down in front of Regulus, before taking a long, deep sip of his own. "How do we get you to stop being so harsh on yourself?" Rich, coming from James, but his concern was reserved only for others. No time for self-examination. "As your officially appointed protector, I think that's my first order of business, because, Merlin, you're eating yourself alive. You're just doing your best, Regulus. There's no handbook for these types of things. What's a good son anyway, in a family like yours? What's a good death eater?" He sat up straighter in his seat, intrigued. "What d'you mean? What else do you think we can we do?" As one of the youngest members, James didn't have much say in the way the Order was run, or anything at all, really. It was mostly just following instructions. At this point, he was starting to wonder himself how to make a real difference, because it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere. James nodded. "And not just him. Everything he stands for, too."

A deep crease settled between his eyebrows. "C'mon, you know that's not true," he frowned, lips in a tight line. The first time I crucioed someone. The syllables reverberated in his head, again and again until the words didn't sound real any more. The first time –. Suddenly, James was overcome by the overwhelming desire to run away so he wouldn't find out what else Regulus had done. He hoped he wouldn't tell him. He couldn't stomach it. He felt stupid for being so stunned. What did he think death eaters did? Go out and frolic in fields of daisies? "I don't even know what that would've felt like. Can’t even begin to imagine it. I’m sorry.” He wanted to stop talking about this, but would go on for as long as Regulus needed. "Well, for the record, you do have family that would be proud of you. Andy, Ted, Sirius. Hey, probably Uncle Alphard, too, although I can't speak for him."

There it was. James took a swig of the drink in front of him. He ought to have expected it, really. The Black family curse. It always did happen after they met someone. "Oh, yeah? That sounds really ... great." Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did he sound so disingenuous? Was he being crazy? James willed himself to look up at Regulus, mentally going through every muggleborn man in the Order. "Honestly, that's really great. I'm so happy for you. It's ... a big thing to realise."

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?"