— ‘ The Hunter’s Moon Is Shining, I’m Running With The Wolves Tonight . . . ’

When the details for his meeting with his second protector had arrived, Regulus had committed the co-ordinates to memory before he had burned the parchment away. There was no use taking risks and leaving behind a paper trail of his betrayal - it would only come back to haunt him. He wasn't sure exactly who Edgar had arranged as a protector in addition to James, but he was hoping that this meeting wasn't going to haunt him the way his one with James Potter had done.

He was growing more comfortable with the deception that was laying under his skin, the lies he was telling to his family and to his friends about his involvement in the Death Eaters. He would maintain the facade for as long as possible, hoping to deal as much damage as he could before he was cut off or killed. Still, there was much to be concerned about while he was still actively working for the Death Eaters whilst also providing information to the Order and that was what his assigned protection was here to assist with...or so he thought.

Apparating to the co-ordinates he had memorised, Regulus took a moment to take in the howling winds and the crashing waves against a gloomy sky. It was the sort of place that he could lose himself, if he was allowed to do so. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his spine and headed towards the seemingly abandoned shack. Raising his hand, he knocked once as a courtesy before pushing the door open anyways. "Hello?" he called out, his voice strong. "This is quite the place."

who: @battle-scvrs when: sometime ago where: an abandoned hut on a beach in Scottland

Waves could be heard crashing onto the shore like wild roaring beasts, with anger so deep and yet a yearning for something new. One glance out of the dusty window and the sight of the waves would immediately come into view. It was through walks that Hestia had found that location. Whenever solitude had been required to think more clearly the witch had found her feet carrying her away from her cottage and down to the beaches just near by, until mile after mile had past only to apparate back home. It was during those walks that she noticed the abandoned shacks and cottages. Had the waves been too high? Hestia doubted that she’d ever find an answer to that.

The hut seemed almost perfect, had become even more so after the auror had placed the spells on it. Layers upon layers now sheltered the rundown cottage from the outside world. From a mirage that caused the building to appear abandoned, even more so, no matter who was inside to shielding charms and veils that allowed none but those permitted to pass through. Anyone out there would have simply been forced to move past.

Hestia was waiting on Regulus, had arrived early enough just to make sure. It was a meeting she had requested after talking over the details with Edgar. Now, seeing the younger Black heir moving down a path like that was not something she could have seen in the cards, but the world had proven to be odder and more surprising than anything.

She twirled the wand in her hand, ready and waiting for the steps that eventually she’d be able to hear. Whatever was within her power, the witch was going to do. If this was the clue, the one thing to stopping it all, it was worth the risk. Hestia was willing to give as much as it would take.

And then, finally, she could hear some steps.

There had to come a breaking point in this war at some point, but it was difficult to ignore the assumption that many of the Death Eaters were unemployed pure-blooded socialites who didn't have to worry about keeping their activities to after-work hours. That wasn't to say that there weren't plenty of Death Eaters who were employed, in fact Kingsley had his suspicions about many of the ministry employees, but he doubted that so many of the other side were as exhausted as the Order were getting. "Many things can be said about my parents, but the manners that they raised me and Sade with were absolutely perfect," Kingsley acknowledged. "Oh, absolutely she does. More than anyone."

Kingsley curled his hand around the beer glass, letting the cold sink into his skin as he considered Edgar's words. "I just...can't risk losing her. What happens to Jasper if she's gone? What happens to me if she's gone?" he said, his voice strained. "I would never dream of controlling her, and if she decides this is what she wants then by Merlin I will put her through training more rigorous than auror training. But you know as well as I that it only takes one rogue spell and that's it...the vicious scar on my side is testament to that. I'm scared for her."

He could agree with Kingsley, the nights were getting longer, and one they had finished with the ministry, they were off do order business. Things had been tense, especially with what happened with Frank, that they had their guard up more. "We can respect your mom." He laughed, a shake of his head. Edgar wanted to admit that he could tell the bars were getting busier, but his mind had been on other witches, that it was hard to keep from this thoughts, and considering his grandfather's death. "She deserves it." Ros worked hard.

Edgar could understand the worry when it came to his friends sister wanting to be part of the order, especially with have a toddler at home to take care of. He did his best to make sure the witch was out of harms way, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before she pushed for more. The wizard took a sip of his beer. "That is why we have to make sure she's trained properly." He knew how his own sister put herself in harms way at times, but it wasn't like this, grateful that she never asked to be part of what he did. "You know you are both safe with us."

If he weren't as riled as he was, Bellatrix's icy silence would have driven terror into his heart. Despite all of the his insecurities and fears, Regulus was at his heart still a Black - and he would not back down. He didn't want Bellatrix's involvement, and her fury was only solidifying that he had made the right decision. The slight changes in her expression that were only noticeable because of the intensity of his gaze left him vindicated that the information was not for the Dark Lord himself. Whatever way Bellatrix tried to spin this, Regulus knew now that she had been meddling when he had expressly asked her not to. He had attempted to put space between them before, but now he needed it desperately. He couldn't afford for her to be messing around in his life.

"I know, Bella. I know. I don't doubt your intentions, nor your devotion. But I have made my boundaries clear, and you are repeatedly crossing them. I want to train with Rabastan. I've asked you to leave me be...my ambitions are mine and mine alone, and I'm comfortable with where I am. I want to serve the Dark Lord, but I also want to get on with my job at the ministry and study magic itself. I have little interest in climbing ranks, I just want to study," he said, mentally building further occlumency walls in his mind in case Bella decided to pry.

Regulus hated using the unforgivables, but avada at least was smooth and painless. He didn't have the stomach for torture, he never had and he never would. On a battle field he would use avada over any other curse, wanting to end the suffering quickly and neatly. At her instruction, Regulus froze, staring at Bellatrix blankly as she finished her tea.

The issue with unforgivables was that you had to mean it, and Regulus never did. With a slight shake to his hands, Reg pointed his wand at his cousin. "Crucio," he said, voice weak. The curse appeared to bounce off Bellatrix harmlessly, so before she could say a word he tried to summon up some of the fury in his veins from their earlier discussion as he cast the curse again.

If her previous silence had been chilling, the utter emptiness that followed his next speech could have frozen hell itself. For a moment, her eyes widened exponentially, her lips pursed and nostrils flaring with an outrage that flowed her veins like a devastating tsunami. He had called her bluff and she did not like it. Of course she hadn't gone to the Dark Lord. He wouldn't care for such a pointless piece of information, but that was besides the issue. She'd still needed the whole picture before deciding what to share with him. As she glowered, she placed both hands onto the arms of her chair and dug her nails into the upholstery. Better that than around her darling cousin's throat. It was a long time before she spoke again. Long for Bellatrix, anyway - at least a minute, in which she had struggled internally with the desire to deny the fear he'd so aptly identified. She never admitted it. Never. Her mask was one of merciless rage and relentless disgust. These things were far easier to acknowledge. They were simple to redirect, channelling her fear and her hurt into something more palatable. Blacks did not show weakness. But her family falling apart made her weak in ways that repulsed her.

"I only want what's best for you and Cissy." She took his words on board, trying her utmost to give him space. But she would be damned if she abandoned him completely. There was only so far that her patient goodwill would stretch. "I only want you to be happy and secure. If your ambition is so lowly, then I cannot change that. But while there is strength in my bones, I will do my best to keep you alive."

Regulus's sighing and flinching did nothing to soothe Bellatrix's concern. Quite the opposite, she was left feeling anxious - a state she most despised. But she was at least relieved to see his killing curse hurtling into a bust of old Corvus Lestrange, even if he'd had to speak it. Raising her fresh cup of tea, she took a deep gulp. "That was good, cousin." Not good enough, but she wasn't going to say it. Even she could see he needed praise. "Now Crucio me. But let me finish my tea first, I need to wash down that horrible ginger snap."

Finishing it fairly quickly, she then pushed the cup aside and held up her hands with a laugh. "Ready when you are. Don't feel bad about it, I don't mind a little pain." Truth be told, she quite enjoyed it. All that carnal monstrosity coursing through her every fibre.... Delicious.

The summons to the auror office was of little concern to Regulus, who would quite happily shift the blame of whatever Black artefact had been found causing trouble onto his father. Regulus was extremely careful when out on missions - removing any and all personal possessions that may identify him if left behind other than his wand. Whatever the aurors believed they had found would be nothing to do with him - in fact, he'd be surprised if this wasn't more of a box-ticking exercise by the aurors to try and prove to the ministry that they were investigating something. Rounding the corner towards the meeting room he had been summoned to, Regulus stopped dead in his tracks at the familiar mess of black hair in front of him. "Sirius. What are you....why are you here?" @siriusbpadfoot

Kingsley had been out on investigation work when he'd received an urgent summons to a sleepy muggle village in the Yorkshire Dales that was now the site of a major crime scene. "The obliviators have been called," finished off the message, and with a sigh Kingsley abandoned the trail he'd been following and apparated to just outside of the village. The Dark Mark was high in the sky and must have been visible for miles, which led to a countless number of muggles who's memories needed wiping - never mind the victims of whatever Death Eater had decided to use unknowing muggles as their playthings.

Moving through the carnage, Kingsley joined in the bustling groups of ministry workers who were slowly lowering the floating muggles. He joined in the work of getting the muggles down, but whilst he did so he quickly and harmlessly used legilimency to see if the Death Eater at fault happened to be unmasked in any of their confused memories. It wasn't something he would do on a magical being, but if he interviewed any of these muggles all he would get back was confusion and nonsense. Sometimes, needs must.

Just as he raised his wand to return another muggle back to the ground, a shrill voice broke his concentration and Kingsley drew a sharp breath. "Lestrange...always a pleasure," he said, not shying away from her closeness. He would not be intimidated by this woman. "Oh, and they were so inappropriate...you can't blame me for continuing to hold those against you now, can you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "As the auror in charge here, I must insist that if you are questioning any muggles that I am present...just to ensure good practice is being followed," he said, a firmness in his tone that confirmed he would not be swayed. "This is an active auror investigation, and certain processes must be followed especially where muggles are involved. I'm sure you understand, you're a reasonable woman."

Starter for: Kingsley Shacklebolt @battle-scvrs Where: a Muggle village, attended by Aurors and the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes When: the middle of the day

As a Senior Minister, Bellatrix did not have to go out on active duties these days. But sometimes she inserted herself into the opportunity like a silver dagger slashing pretty pink flesh; wilfully and dishonourably.

So here she stood, the picture of elegance at a scene of terrible magical disarray. Muggles were floating around like inflated toys, caught in trees and windows and Merlin knew what else. Frankly, she couldn't care less. But her employer did care - and so did the Dark Lord. Aurors had been summoned, for her department had suspected foul play at the hands of Death Eaters.

The Dark Mark shining over the village post office did also slightly give the game away. That wasn't supposed to be there. Bellatrix now stood before it, a look of utter fury ripping her expression in two as she stared up at it and wondered which of her idiot allies had been so stupid to forget the most basic of commands. Eyes expanding in the sallow green haze, her hair whipped around her like streaming black ribbons, nails clenching into the palms of her hands. She was here to make this incident disappear from the Ministry's radar, but the Dark Mark made that work impossible.

Turning away, she headed forcefully towards the village square. She would rip the culprit's identify from one of these vile muggles' minds. That was the only thought in her head, until her sight fell upon Kingsley Shacklebolt and she smiled a smile of avaricious yearning.

"Hello Kingsley, my old friend." Stepping beside him, she stood too close for comfort and delicately brushed some non-existent dust from his cloak. Her eyes lingered on his midriff, where she knew he must harbour a sumptuous scar slashed by her own wand. Oh, how she'd love to see it.... Lips twitching with the involuntarily thirst for it, she pressed them into a curve and looked up into his expression. "You don't still hold a grudge against me, do you? For those inappropriate conversations at Hogwarts?" With a tsk, she stepped back and waved her fingers towards the Dark Mark. True anger filled her expression once more and she channelled the emotion into a new purpose. "Whoever is responsible for that must be caught and punished. You will have your perpetrator when I've finished questioning these muggles."

Kingsley cast his eyes over Aurora with a surveying eye, and her nervousness was evident. He didn’t want to terrify the poor girl, but equally, he was not willing to send unprepared fighters out into the field only to have to knock on their loved one’s doors and deliver the news that unfortunately their daughter had died. Rolling his shoulders as he settled himself for a defensive fight, Kingsley watched her body language with interest. He felt her need to prove herself, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Deflecting her charm with a lazy flick of his wand, Kingsley sent back his own disarming charm. “Disarm me any way you can – assume your opponent will defend with the intent to attack. Next time, I will defend with jinxes."

Aurora was slightly nervous meeting with Kingsley. There was an intimidation that seemed to linger in the air and this need to make a good impression. It was important to show him that she was capable of taking care of herself, so that he would tell Edgar it was fine sending her back out on missions. "I know better than showing up late." Not that she would anyway, being prompt was one of her traits. Her eyes widen when he asks her to disarm him, glancing around where she could feel the magic of the charms surrounding them. Her wand secure in her grasp. She raises her arm, her gaze fixating on his wand. "Expelliarmus." She speaks clearly and sternly, flicking her wrist in the direction of where he is holding his wand.

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.

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

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

If Fenrir were a different man, he might muse on the strings of fate that seemed to be drawing them together. He could dwell on the fact that many of their meetings had been entirely unplanned, that there were hundreds of areas of woodland in England and without discussion the pair of them seemed to end up in the same ones over and over again. But he was not a different man, and still he saw the relationship coming to an end eventually - either her family would grow bored of bothering Octavius and turn their attention to his witch, or Pandora would refuse to be turned into a wolf and so their relationship would draw to a close.

Fenrir shifted slightly so he could face Pandora properly, smacking a lazy kiss to her cheek. "I don't remember many happy Christmases. I remember them being magical when my mother was around, then when she was gone my father was just going through the motions. I want Magnus to know joy, I want him to feel wonder and delight when he thinks about Christmas. I want to be better for him than my father was for me," he said, the softness of the moment between them making him raw and vulnerable.

"Of course I have a gift for you," he said, setting his wand back on the side table once Pandora had plucked the box from the air. The small box contained a delicate chain with a crescent moon pendant - perhaps it was a little on the nose, but he wanted her to have something of him when they were apart. "You didn't have to get us anything, but thank you."

Pandora had spent time suppressing the feelings that she was developing for Fenrir. At times determined to keep distance between them, but in the end, it failed. She would find herself tucked away in the woods toying away her magic and he would appear. They were drawn to each other. "He should be spoiled rotten. It's the magic of Christmas. I loved it growing up." Then when she hit Hogwarts, things were different.

If she had only been daring enough to attempt a hex with her family, but there was this notion of how to conduct herself when she was around them. That the person Fenrir saw with him, smiling and free, it was different around her family. "I will have to remember that for next time."

There was a warmth that radiated off Fenrir when he held her close, in his arms she felt safe and cared for. "I would like to meet her too." She had no idea what the woman would think of her, but the way he described her, she came across has a strong independent werewolf.

He could have taken this conversation anywhere, part of her prepared for him to turn her down, but when he spoke about being hers for awhile, all doubt washed away. "I have been yours for awhile." This was shaping up to be one of the best Christmas' in a long time. "You have a gift for me?" Her body shifts, watching a present float towards them, reaching out for it. "What did you get me?" She starts to open it. "I have something for you and Magnus." It was something small.