Regulus ;; Threads - Blog Posts

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.

"You don't need to worry about it," Regulus said, his tone a little sharper than it had been since he'd sat down. "It's not about the war. Just because you are one of my officially assigned protectors does not give you an insight into my private life," though he'd already revealed far more to James than he imagined he would to his other protector. Bloody James Potter and his open and inviting personality, what a prick. That wasn't even to mention Edgar Bones for putting them in this situation in the first place. Clenching his fingers into fists as James continued talking about how hard Sirius' life had been, Regulus wasn't sure he'd ever manage to get past the bitterness that was deep seated within him, nor the overwhelming feeling of abandonment that threatened to swallow him whole. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, anyways. If Sirius wants me to feel pity for his lot in life, he'll need to tell me that himself. I'll listen...but that requires him to talk," Regulus was fully aware that he was being a little childish, but he figured given everything else going on he was allowed a little grace. "I reckon a fist fight between Sirius and I might sort everything out. Wanna play referee?"

Regulus honestly wasn't sure who he was without the tangled web of feelings that had swallowed him whole for years. Perhaps it was the influence of dark magic impacting his soul, perhaps it was the general levels of distrust amongst the Death Eater ranks - he was always looking over his shoulder, fearing a betrayal. "Honestly, we've got bigger issues than my brain," he shrugged, before rolling his eyes at James' smirk. "It's intoxicating. It is...the power that you can wield over others. I can see why my friends have slipped down the path they have. I just can't...it's not right to hurt people, under the guise of blood purity, when really all they seek is power."

Regulus was still an absolute outsider to the Order of the Phoenix, and he was not interested in getting involved further than he already was. He'd been plainly honest with all those he'd spoken to - he didn't see what hope the Order had, but it was all they had given he knew there was corruption at the ministry. "It's the motivation behind it all," Regulus said quietly. "The Dark Lord's motivation is chaos, power and domination. The Order want to restore justice - or, that's my limited understanding anyways. There are curses that are reversible, curses that will merely disable someone enough for them to be arrested. You're more likely to land one when attacking, rather than fending off their curses and trying to stun. I'm not suggesting the Order should turn around and start killing people...but honestly, if we're going to arrest people and then give them the dementor's kiss, what's the difference? It's just a longer process but it's effectively the same result," and this was why Regulus was no major strategist, why nobody would ever look to him to lead. If the Order was always on the defensive, they would find themselves surprised and overwhelmed before much time passed at all. "I'm not asking you to sacrifice who you are, James. I respect what you're saying. But if it gets to a point where I'm fighting alongside the Order on a battlefield, I won't be using defensive spells and that's that. I will fight for my life."

With eyes fixed firmly on the mug of beer, Reg frowned deeply. "Even as recently as two weeks ago, my cousin made me practice unforgivables on her to demonstrate my ability or lack thereof. Crucioing my own cousin, then watching her disappointment because I didn't love it...my family's fucked up, James," he said with a small smile. Even as he was saying the words, he knew that it was only because Bellatrix cared - but wasn't that fucked up in itself? "How long have you got?" he asked with a small laugh.

Waving his hand dismissively, Regulus tilted his head slightly in James' direction. So James wanted to play dumb, did he? Well, Regulus would put a name to it then. "You're acting like you're jealous which you have no right to be. You said you're happy for me, and then did...whatever the fuck this is," he said, narrowing his eyes as James rolled his. "What's wrong with Caradoc? Or is it just....no, fuck that, I'm not gonna get into that." Regulus trailed off, feeling incredibly irate.

"What other developments?" he pressed. James wasn't typically the type of person to push anything; if someone wanted to drop a topic of conversation, he'd get the hint and segue into an other without a second thought. This was different. If it was something to do with the Order, or the war, it was important enough that he would at least try to get it out of him, even if he had to spell it out in black and white. He wasn't sure if it was real or imagined, but James noticed a look in Regulus' eye. For both their sakes, he hoped he'd imagined it. He nodded. "Yeah, I know. Though sometimes ... I'm sure he felt like it. What else could it be?" This all felt so sticky, complicated, and he was skirting around the things he truly wanted to say. "He has," James said firmly. "Even if you don't want to hear it. That's not to say you haven't gone through a lot, too. You both have the right to navigate this situation however you do, but a little empathy wouldn't be lost on either of you." James sighed deeply, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "This is bigger than some sibling rivalry. But it's better if you get this all out of your system now, I suppose."

It troubled him deeply that Regulus still felt like this after all these years. He'd tried to untie the vines, slowly, with love and delicate fingers, when he'd had the chance to, but it seemed they had all tangled up again. Or perhaps he hadn't done as much as he thought back then. "I can try." James listened quietly as he reeled off what made a good son and death eater, as if it were scripture. To some, he supposed, it was as good as. "Sure, but I meant more in a philosophical sense," he said, and couldn't help the smirk that crept onto his face. It lightened to something more soft as he continued. "You're lucky to have the conscience you do. Even if it might not feel like it. The world would be a much better place if others did, too."

To be honest, James didn't know much about the inner workings of the Order of the Phoenix, and he suddenly felt very stupid for it. All he did all day was fly around on a silly broomstick and shoot balls through a hoop. There were people who devoted their days to this cause, this fight that he claimed to be all-invested in, but here he was, unable to answer a single one of Regulus' questions. It was shameful, really. He listened intently. Everything he was saying made perfect sense, and yet, James felt a growing sense of discomfort in the pit of his stomach. "You're probably right," he agreed. "But then, what really separates us from them? I wonder about this sometimes. If I was put in a situation where I was protecting someone I love," He thought of Lily first, "Would I be able to look somebody in the eye and curse them? Kill them? Obviously, it's difficult to say unless you're in the moment, but I don't think I'd be able to live with myself." His voice was even. "I'd die for someone I love. A thousand times over. But I'm not sure, in good conscience, that I could kill for them. Maybe that's selfish. Maybe it means we'll lose, and we're doomed, but I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees. I don't want this war to turn me into something I'm not. I want to win, but I want to win on my terms, without compromising who I am."

Although it was on a far smaller scale, James could relate to far more of what Regulus was feeling than either of them probably realised. "No, I think I get it. As much as I can get it, I mean." No – had it been that obvious? He didn't want Regulus to think he couldn't talk about it further if he needed to, so James shook his head. "Confess to me. It's fine. I'll pardon all of 'em."

"Don't be like what? I'm not being like anything," he said defensively. "I'm being perfectly nice. I just said I'm happy for you." Of-fucking-course it was Caradoc. He rolled his eyes. Clearly, Regulus had a type. "Cool." There was definitely something wrong with him. He was acting like a moody, jealous teenager, and he wasn't even sure why, because he certainly wasn't moody, or jealous, or a teenager. A buzz filled his head, and he forced a smile. He wished Regulus had obliviated him, and then himself, so that they could both forget about this horrible reaction.

"Hey, look at me," Reg's voice was gentle as he reached to put his hand on Caradoc's cheek, stroking his thumb across his cheekbones. "Being interrogated may put your life in danger if they find out about us, so we need to prevent that. I will fight with you. Don't feel guilt about that, please...this is my choice. I knew the risks when I realised we were on opposing sides and we carried on anyways, and I know the risks even more now that I'm defecting. I might be a pretty poor Death Eater, but I can still hold my own in a fight. I don't want you worrying about me, or feeling guilty. We'll do this together, okay?" Reg said, knowing that Caradoc would continue to feel guilt but hoping to offset it somehow. He just hoped that Caradoc still felt their relationship was worth the added risk.

Shifting up onto the couch, Reg cast another quick diagnostic spell to ensure he hadn't missed anything drastic before he set his wand down on the side. He tucked his feet underneath himself, leaning his head gingerly against Caradoc's shoulder. "It's so strange to me that your parents have chosen ignorance over all of this. That they would rather be blind to the war, than take precautions. Muggle behaviours are....odd."

Caradoc squeezed his eyes shut. If Regulus’ cover was blown because of him . . . He could already feel the waves of guilt hitting him. That was more painful than any injury inflicted on him could be. “Only if you must. Only if my life is in danger. If it’s anything else, you need to stay with your cover. I can handle being hurt by them, or being interrogated. What I cannot handle is you suffering in an effort to save me.”

He opened his eyes again, grasping his boyfriend’s hands. There were probably a couple more healing spells he needed, but they could wait. He just wanted to spend time with Regulus and relax. Caradoc patted the space next to him. “Please?” He said. “I don’t want to think about the mission anymore.” Caradoc sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “Merlin, if my parents knew . . .” He laughed out loud. “I cannot imagine what they’d think.”

While Regulus was growing more wary of his friends as his allegiances were shifting and changing, when Severus had reached out to him Regulus had gone without question. Reg had wondered whether Severus might understand his logic, particularly given his previous attachment to Lily Evans but he didn't dare breathe a word of it, just in case.

Stepping into Severus' home, Reg shrugged off his coat and hung it up. "I would love a cup of tea if you don't mind. It's freezing out - even warming charms don't seem to make much difference."

where: his home who: @battle-scvrs (Regulus Black) when: first of january

There was one person that Severus felt he could count on, a friendship he would be eternally grateful for. They had shared a few first together, but most importantly, he did not have many friends when he lost the one that shattered him on the inside. He could appear cold and detached on the outside, but that was him protecting himself.

"Regulus." A low gravelly voice echoes in the hallway, greeting him at the foyer. "The study is ready." He turns to find his way back to a room that was his safe haven. "Did you want something to drink?"

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."

Bellatrix was more infuriating than his parents, at this point. Once he'd taken the mark and shown some initial devotion to the cause, his parents had backed off content in the knowledge that at least one son was doing the right thing. Without him being marked, Regulus would never have been allowed to move out of the family home, or take his job at the ministry which allowed him more freedom than he'd ever had. But Bella's care manifested in intense devotion, and he worried that he would never be able to get her to give up on this desire for him to be better than he was. All Regulus wanted to do was live his life in peace, and study the intricacies of magic at the Department of Mysteries. It would be a quiet life, but it was his - and that diverted from his family's view.

He was just thankful that they hadn't started pressuring him to take a wife and to continue the line.

Regulus knew his cruciatus would disappoint his cousin immeasurably. He had seen her wielding it on missions, and though he hated the curse, he had to admit that watching Bellatrix cast it was almost like an art form. Watching Bella lift her wand after his first poor attempt had panicked him, fearing that the curse was heading his way, and it was that panic along with his earlier fury that led to a slightly stronger second attempt though it was still poor.

His chest was heaving with the effort of casting even such a weak curse, sweat beading at his brow. "But I..." he trailed off, stopping himself. He had been about to say that he didn't love it, which was potentially the worst thing he could say in the presence of his cousin beyond confessing to his muggle-born lover. The rest of his thought was cut off as he stared down the end of his cousin's wand, pupils dilating in fear. He knew that he'd been poor, but he hadn't anticipated Bella torturing him for it. As red flashed, Regulus flinched away, shrinking into himself to try and protect himself from the inevitable pain. He could hear Bella laughing, and the sound sickened him. After a moment, he realised her curse had been directed elsewhere - and when he looked back at his cousin, there was something new in his gaze. The faintest hint of disgust, hidden behind the layers of fear.

"I don't need you to tell me it was poor, Bella. I know it," Regulus sneered, pushing away from the table as he stood. Thinking back on Rabastan's teaching Regulus dug into his confused emotions as he stared at his dishevelled cousin, and with his voice dripping with disgust he held his wand steady and cast "imperio." Tilting his head slightly, he went for the same command he had given Rabastan. It would upset Bella as much as it had upset Rabastan. "Your wand. Give me your wand."

Regulus was testing Bellatrix's patience. Truly, this was more demanding than any mission gifted to her by the Dark Lord. She could not torture the boy, and neither did she want to. She could barely manipulate him, since familial intimacy meant he knew her well. Force had not benefited her with Regulus and she felt that she was losing ground. It was a situation most perturbing and undeniably irksome. Her rage still lingered as he spoke reassuringly, her palms still splayed against the couch as though she were trying to ground herself. Yet even then, she managed to locate an ounce of pride, acknowledging that the boy did not give up easily. Regulus was proving to be a challenging project. He did want to learn and he respected the need to study magic further. She would give him that much. It was admirable despite his misplaced tutelage. Had she known that he had mastered Occulmency, she would have thought of him more highly. But she knew nothing of it.

"Very well." Arguing was going nowhere. She was growing tired and bored and frustrated. She wanted to move on. "As I promised, I will make no further demands after you show me your curses."

They were one curse down and she was looking forward to seeing his Cruciatus. By far her favourite of the Unforgiveables, Bellatrix wielded it with devastating adoration. Her skill with it was calamitous. It fed her sadism and brought her a high like nothing else. Nothing could compare - not sex, not drink, not even death itself. So when Regulus's spell danced from her dress without so much as even a feeble tickle, she sighed with dramatic disappointment and raised her wand to show him how it should be done. Fortunately for him, she hadn't expected his second attempt. It stunned her, crushing her back against the chair with something akin to an electric shock. Her shriek pierced the silence like a knife cutting silk, then she laughed wildly, gasping for air and sliding halfway down her chair as the spell receded.

There was pain. It did hurt. But not as it should. Regulus's spell lacked substance and finesse. Since her own wand had fallen to the ground, she reached down to retrieve it, her normally steadfast fingers trembling in the aftermath and her hair now askew at a tremendously jaunty angle.

"You didn't mean it, cousin. You need to want it. You need to love it." Wand now in hand, she directed it mercilessly between Regulus's eyes, wanting to see what emotions would reveal themselves in that flicker of an instant. Her breath was still ragged, her position still lopsided against the chair. Insane, some called her. But that was a lie told by fools and enemies. There was no madness within Bellatrix Lestrange. There was only pure, unadulterated awareness. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew that she adored it. With a slashing motion, she cast the curse at a portrait, the flashing red causing the illusion of blood as the picture's occupants screamed in horror. Their disarray clashed horribly with Bella's laughter, her mirth ringing true and bold with shamelessness. Even in her mildly weakened state, that curse would have been crippling. She would spare Regulus from a direct hit.

Slowly, she pushed back up into her seat and steadied herself. She wouldn't bother giving him an assessment. He knew it had been poor, but she supposed he'd tried his best. "Now the Imperius. You weakened me-" She paused, shrugged dismissively and wryly simpered, "well, sort of. But it should help you nonetheless. Let's see if I can resist."

If he wasn't in such a shitty mood, the way that James' expression flickered and changed as Regulus sent empty sparks his way might have sent guilt clanging through his chest. One day, James' seemingly endless patience for Regulus and his bullshit would run out - hell, maybe Regulus had just driven the final dagger into whatever was left of what they'd been. Letting his wand drop down to the table with a clatter, Regulus slumped back into the chair as if hit with a wave of physical exhaustion. "Sirius will know. He doesn't yet. We wanted to get the protection in place first. I have spoken to Andromeda about my recent thoughts, and some other...developments. But I couldn't...I was..." Reg stammered over his words, nose scrunching in discomfort. "I'm scared to tell him, I guess. Scared of what he might think," whenever he was in the presence of his brother, he felt like a small terrified kid year old all over again watching everything slip between his useless fingers. "Maybe, one day."

Regulus didn't want to hand blame to those who had left him, but in his brain, there was a clear correlation between his cousin and his brother leaving, and the intense pressure that suddenly came stamping down on his shoulders. There was never a chance for him to do anything else, there was only one option. Almost instinctively, Regulus' hand came up to itch the skin where his Dark Mark lay, nails digging in slightly as if he could rip it off. "All I've ever wanted to do was be a good son, a good brother, good enough. And somehow I've managed to be a terrible son, a terrible brother, a terrible Death Eater. I'm not good at any of it. But maybe I can be good enough that I don't get caught. Maybe...just maybe I can tip the scales a little bit. I've already given Edgar information on some planned raids, and some names of those within the muggle government under the imperius. I'll do what I can whilst I can. I'm not sure it will be enough, but it's better than nothing," he said, a small frown knitted between his brows. "I don't think the Order is doing enough, James. I'm giving the Order information because it's the best option we have, but I don't believe that your Order can make much of a difference. Not yet, anyway. I know that everyone seems to have boundless optimism in the power of good, but...I'm not sure it's enough. You don't know the sort of power you're fighting against, the depth of the ideologies...it's impossibly dark," he breathed, before his gaze shot up to meet James'. "That makes two of us. This war is eating at me, and I fear that even if I make it to the end, there will be nothing of me left. But you're right. If it means that the Dark Lord isn't in power at the end of it all, it's worth it...right?"

"I've never been enough, James. Everybody I've ever known has wanted me to be someone else, to be something else. Nobody has ever really wanted just plain old Regulus, with his ugly feelings and his messy fears, not until recently," Regulus' voice was small and weak, betraying all of his deepest feelings about himself. "It's been a slow process, I think. There isn't one specific thing that changed my mind. My heart was never in it, not the way that my family wanted it to be. I was doing it because it was the right thing, the thing to make my family proud. I'm not devoted, I'm not skilled at the Dark Arts. The first time I crucioed someone I went home and vomited until I passed out. The pressure from my family...it's suffocating me, and I was starting to panic in the field. It just wasn't feeling right any more, I couldn't in good conscience go out and fight that cause any more."

"And....I met someone. Someone that I really like that is on on your side, someone who's a muggle-born. And I started to realise that his blood status doesn't matter to me at all, and then I looked at myself and thought...what the fuck are you doing, Reg?"

His wand aimed directly at his forehead, James' hazel eyes, dilated in dim light and emotion, never left the grey of Regulus'. He won't do it. He wouldn't, he thought. A light flashed from the tip of the wood and, just for a moment, he considered the possibility he might have been wrong. What that would mean. His brows furrowed. In the split-second before he was obliviated, James' last thought was that he forgave him. Regulus could do just about anything and James would probably forgive him – without being prompted, without being asked, without even knowing if there was anything to really forgive. A moment later, he blinked, and here he still was. "Does Sirius know?" Lingering awkwardness from that surge of feeling cracked his voice as he spoke. "About this whole double-agent thing? I was told not to tell anyone, but I think he should know." James shrugged. "I'm glad he's getting a laugh out of it." He'd only ever heard good things about Uncle Alphard. "It probably is funny, I guess. I'm sure in ten years we'll laugh about it, too."

James listened quietly, guilt clawing at him from inside his gut as he chewed on his bottom lip. It's not your fault, he reminded himself. It's not your fault, it's not your fault, it's not your fault. But it was. Taking Sirius away from his family was effectively signing Regulus' prison sentence. Before the two had become close, he had never thought about Sirius running away like that, but after, it was all he could think about. "I don't really know what to say," James said honestly, at last. "It's such a shitty hand that you've been dealt. I'm not going to pretend like this doesn't change everything, because it does." He, however, was nothing if not optimistic. "But hopefully, it'll change everything for the better. That's all each of us is trying to do, right?" A far cry from the effortless confidence he exuded when asked by anyone else about the war, James felt he could be vulnerable around Regulus. He had no expectations of him, unlike everyone else, and so he didn't feel the need to play the part he normally did. "I've always had the feeling I wasn't going to make it out alive," he said suddenly. He had never said that out loud. "At least we'll die doing the right thing."

"You are enough. You're doing wonderfully. Give yourself some grace." He nodded, relief surging through him. "Okay." A question, however, had been eating him alive, from the inside out. It reared its ugly face now. "What made you ... y'know. Switch sides?" At the end of the day, although they liked to put it down to Sirius, it was their opposing ideologies that had driven them apart. The dark mark had been the final, physical nail in the coffin that they couldn't ignore – the step they both knew that, once Regulus took, James couldn't follow after.

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."

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.”

Deciding that by now neither of them was going to leave in a fury, Regulus finally threw himself back down into the chair he'd occupied before James' entrance. Reaching for the bottle again, Regulus took one last swig before he banished the bottle. With narrowed eyes, Reg pointed his wand at James' head before letting harmless sparks flash from the end. "If I obliviated you, Sirius would kill me. I don't need to give another relative a reason to murder me," he muttered, falling back on his brother as if that was the only reason why he didn't want to physically harm James Potter - even after everything. With curious gaze, Regulus saw the way that his words seemed to land and he cursed his big mouth for speaking before he'd thought it through. Still, it hurt. The situation was a nightmare, and no amount of Regulus pulling his punches would change that. "I reckon its my Uncle Alphard. He would think this was bloody funny," Regulus chose not to acknowledge James saying he deserved it. Maybe he did...but hadn't he suffered enough already?

Regulus crossed his arms to hide the shaking of his hands, shrinking back into the chair further. "You know who I'm disappointing James. You...you took my brother in when he left us, and it was me that was left to pick up the pieces, me that was left with the violent fall out, me that had to shoulder the responsibilities - the last male heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. I think it will be worse this time, when it all comes out. Sirius and Andromeda was bad enough, shameful even, but for them to lose me when they had me marked and fighting for their side? It's unforgivable. They're my family, and I love them. I still love them, I will love every single one of them until the day that this war kills me. This choice will kill me, it's just a matter of...I don't know, trying to give your Order an edge before it does. I don't hold any false pretences about a life after the war is over...I'm not even sure I'll make it to the end of the war."

Taking a deep breath as James spoke, Regulus couldn't hold his gaze as he spoke of courage and bravery. Reg wasn't sure he had a single ounce of bravery in his body, not really. He was tired of his whole life feeling like a struggle. "I'm tired, James. I'm tired of feeling like I'm never enough, that I'm not good enough for anything, that I don't live up to expectations. This war has broken me in half, and I'm not sure there's much left to piece back together. But I will do my best, for as long as I can. And if by some miracle I'm still alive when the war ends...well, I'll figure out how to live, I suppose," he breathed. "I'll let you. It's easier, I suppose, having someone who knows how I can be. Less awkward than someone new trying to figure me out."

James knew instinctively what he meant. He understood that this was his way of having some sort of control in a situation that was spinning out of it right in front of them, and he nodded. Nobody did like wet socks. Just like nobody wanted to be protected by their... whatever they had been to each other. "I'm not normally a gambling man, but with you, I'll take my chances. Fire away," he shrugged indifferently. In the current climate, it was hard to be sure of much, but one thing James Potter did feel sure of was that Regulus Black wouldn't hurt him. Not like that, anyway. Words were something else entirely, and he'd felt all of them acutely as they landed in his chest, piercing new holes where previous ones had been starting to heal. "He's outdone himself," he agreed. "I s'pose someone's up there's laughing down at us. Thinks this is all some big joke. I think I deserve it, really, after all the pranks I've pulled. You probably deserve it, too, Reg. No offence."

Compassion filled him as he listened to Regulus speak, and James visibly softened. "I don't think I'm the hero here, unfortunately. I was asked to do this." This must be so difficult for him. It was almost like looking in Sirius' eyes when they were sixteen, though he didn't dare say this aloud. "Who could you possibly be disappointing,” James frowned, voice gentle, “by doing the right thing?" It was a rhetorical question; they both knew the answer. At long last, he sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh. "I don't want to be let out of it. Unless you want me gone, which I would understand. I can speak to Edgar to say I can't do it." His gaze, which had been fixated on his hands on the table in front of him, now went to meet Regulus'. "When I was asked to protect you – well, the double agent – I thought… Damn. Whoever it is must be so brave. It'd be an honour to protect someone like that. You may have ended up as far as you did because that was what was expected of you, but this choice that you've made... your conscience winning, despite everything you've been told your whole life, takes so much courage. I still stand by what I said. It'd be an honour, and I'll do it gladly, if you'll let me." He felt as if there was no air left in his lungs, as if it’d been punched out of him.

It was shameful, truly, that they'd had to go through such loops to meet up as brothers. To meet in a room booked under another man's name, under heavy warding, and even then to be so suspicious of each other than they couldn't even sit down casually. He knew that Sirius' air of nonchalance was a mask, and he wasn't sure that his brother would ever trust him fully again. Their relationship was broken, potentially beyond repair, but Regulus wanted to at least try. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't try.

Nodding slowly at Sirius words, Regulus swallowed back a lump of emotion in his throat. The words he had practiced were gone as he stared at his brother, fearing that if he fucked this up that he would be lost to him forever. "It won't come as a surprise to you that our parents marched me in front of the Dark Lord as early as they could. They didn't want to risk it. And I wanted to do the right thing, to make them proud. That's all I've ever wanted. To be a good son, to be a good brother. You were gone, so they were all I had left," he said, his gaze falling. "But I was awful at it all. I was having lessons to teach me to be better. For all intents and purposes, there was nothing stopping me. My magic is strong, I have an iron-clad will like a true Black, and I had an outstanding teacher. I could have been like Bellatrix, I know I could. But I had a mental block that was preventing me from casting truly dark magic, because in my heart I knew it was wrong. I knew it. And I can't live like that any more. I can't fight for their cause."

Regulus lifted his gaze, his eyes fixed intently on Sirius. "I'm not sure I believe in your Order. I'm not sure they have a chance at all. But I'm hoping that by providing them with information, it will give the Order an edge. A way in. He's just a man....a very powerful man, but he's just a man. The regime has to be undermined, the Death Eaters...some of them just seek power. If we can prompt some in-fighting, along with disrupting raids and attacks...I don't know, maybe it's a chance." He paused for a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets to disguise the shake. "I know this doesn't fix anything. I don't expect you to trust me, I don't expect anything from you. I know you have your own life, and I know there's no place in it for me any more. I'm not asking for anything at all. But I wanted you to hear it from me."

Sirius put his hands casually in his pocket, his hand fingering his wand in his pocket. While he leaned against the door, looking every bit the part of a bored and unbothered man, he was alert. He leaned against the door so he could hear everything on the other side, his hand in his pocket so he could whip his wand out at a moment's notice. Some part of him - the part that had been working with the Order for years - thought this might be an ambush. It would be just his look to speak to his brother for the first time in years and end up killed because of it a few days later. He still came though, because despite the estranged years between them he just couldn't believe Regulus would do that to him. He hoped as much anyway.

His face was set, unreadable - a skill they had both learned from all their years in the Black family manor. "Edgar told me something alright," Sirius said with an unamused laugh. "But I want to hear what you have to say." Double agent. Yeah right. Sirius had it in his mind to tell Dumbledore he should keep an eye on Edgar, not entirely sure someone wasn't doing an Unforgivable on him if he was so easily convinced of something so stupid. All that had been proved to Sirius so far was that he was right to think Regulus had followed in Bellatrix's footsteps; the two of them doing the Black family proud as they traipsed after Voldemort.

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.

As Andromeda flinched, Regulus frowned deeply. He hadn't meant for her to feel bad, but he hadn't considered the way his words would land with her. "No, I didn't mean to....shit, I've fucked this up," he said, placing his head in his hands for a moment. He'd just wanted to talk to someone that would understand, he hadn't wanted to leave her with guilt. "You did what you had to do, what was best for you. That's what I want to do now...I want to do something for me for once," he said, his voice small but strong. "You know Bella...her care manifests intensely. She was doing what she thought was right, she just pushed too far. She was caring in her own way," he said, grimacing as he thought back on the disaster that had been his recent teatime with Bella. "She asked me to perform unforgivables on her recently so that I could demonstrate my aptitude. I was disappointing. I'm a stain on the family name, and I haven't even betrayed anyone yet."

Andromeda's hand in his was a comfort he hadn't known in years - the warmth of family who expected nothing from him other than to be himself. "I will bring more shame to them than you or Sirius ever did. They had me in their claws, and I've slipped away. It will haunt my parents for the rest of their miserable lives," Regulus said sharply. A small laugh left him at her optimism that nobody would kill him. He knew he would be hunted for the rest of his life once he turned, he knew he was a man with an expiration date. "I don't trust the Order not to fuck this up. I've seen them on the other side of a battlefield...they can't manage their own soldiers, never mind this. And I don't want to drag you and Ted into something that could explode with our family, not when you have Nymphadora to think about. You have more important things than me, I just wanted to talk it out...I'll figure something out, I'm sure," he said, though he wasn't sure exactly how that would happen. "I can't do it any more. I'm not sure what it looks like, but I can't fight for the Dark Lord any more."

Reg reached for his cup of tea to take a long sip as Andromeda talked. He laughed at her joke, raising his eyebrow in her direction with a grin. "We've been seeing each other for a few months now. It's still new and exciting, but it feels different. It feels like it could be permanent, maybe, if we can navigate through all of this. Yes, of course, I'd love that."

Andromeda couldn’t help but flinch at his words, at the reminder that she and Sirius had both played some part in this. It made her heart ache to know that because of her he’d gone through more than she could possibly imagine. It wasn’t fair to him. “Regulus I’m so sorry.” She breathed, shaking her head. “I never meant for me leaving to be a punishment for any of you.” She could only imagine how Bellatrix had been, she’d never been the easiest even growing up. “What did Bella do?” She was afraid to know but at the same time felt she had to know. For her sister to be cruel to Regulus, the thought alone infuriated her. She expected it from their parents, but for her sister to do so? It was unforgivable.

She shook her head as he called himself an embarrassment, once more taking his hand in attempt to comfort the both of them. “You are not an embarrassment Reg, you are doing the right thing. Just because our family made their choices doesn’t mean we have to make the same ones. It’s time for us to choose our own paths, decide what is right for us. We will figure it out, we will make sure you’re safe. No one is going to kill you.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought. “We could go to the order, if you tell the truth I’m sure there is something they would do to help. You could help. Or Ted is an auror, I’m sure we could discuss it with him, figure out the best course of action.” She stopped once more, shaking her head as he admitted he had a panic attack. “It’s not too late Reg, you can leave that life. We will figure it out, I promise I’m not going anywhere and I will help however I can.”

Her lips quirked up as she saw the fond way he thought of the guy he was seeing. “As long as you’re happy then I’m glad. Ted was much the same way, I mean have you seen that man? His blood was the last thing I was thinking about.” She joked. “I’d love to meet him though, if you wanted me to of course.”

Up until now, Regulus had been incredibly careful about those he'd spoken to about his changing allegiances. He'd asked Edgar to honour that by keeping the true source of the information anonymous, and keeping the circle of protectors as small as possible. If he didn't accept James as a protector, that was a loose end and a risk. It infuriated him that this situation was clearly Edgar trying to honour Regulus' demands, and therefore he had been the harbinger of his own doom (if one wanted to be so dramatic, which he did). This would require a lot of contact with James, which he vehemently did not want.

Reg shrugged his shoulders, glancing down at his shoes. "Nobody likes wet socks," he murmured. When everything else was spiralling out of his control, wet socks was something entirely stupid and mundane that he could indeed control. As James settled the bottle back down, Reg snatched it up again and took another long swig. "I don't think you want me going anywhere near your head with a wand at the moment, not given how much firewhiskey I've just swigged. If you want to take the risk though..." he trailed off, quirking an eyebrow in James' direction. "What sort of test? Do you want to pinch me to make sure I'm real? I assure you this is actually happening, despite every atom of my body fucking begging for it to be a nightmare. I'm not sure even the Dark Lord himself could conjure up this particular situation, and yet Edgar Bones has just....well."

"What's not to understand? Edgar told you the situation, I assume. You volunteered because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, and unfortunately, the person is me. Here to continually disappoint people, as ever," he offered James a tight smile - a mask of protection. "My conscience finally won over my people-pleasing nature. I expect it will kill me, but that's the risk I've accepted. I'm sure if you go to Edgar and explain, he'll let you out of this assignment."

The universe was very clearly playing a prank on him. It was obvious. After twelve years of dishing them out, now, finally, his punishment had come, some kind of divine retribution in the form of this sick practical joke – and not a very funny one, at that. James bitterly willed the universe to try harder. He'd always felt justice would come back around to bite him in the arse one day, but couldn't have in his wildest dreams predicted something like this: Regulus Black, betraying his family’s cause, under James’ protection. The whole thing was outrageous.

Despite everything, he let out a breath of laughter. "It was getting into your socks," he repeated, amused, as if it were the most nonsensical thing in the world. To be honest, everything in this room right now seemed to be nonsensical. Walking around the table, he picked up the bottle and took a swig. Face immediately soured at the taste. He replaced it on the table, sliding it across towards Regulus. "I'll obliviate you, you obliviate me?" he suggested. "I can't believe this is happening. Surely it's not real. Is it a test, d'you think?" He nodded. "I think we might be, too."

James chewed his bottom lip. "Okay, you're going to have to explain what's happening here, because I don't understand."

This was hell. It had to be. Some sort of sick, karmic punishment for all the harm Regulus had done. Didn't the Gods, or whatever powers may be, know that Regulus was trying to do better? Instead they offered him James fucking Potter, who was once again here to be the hero. James' stunned silence followed by the closing of his eyes led to a brief flush of relief through Regulus' bones as he thought James was about to apparate away, back to wherever Order headquarters might be and with them Edgar Bones and his stupid ideas of protection. That relief quickly died when James did not move, and Reg couldn’t help the roll of his eyes.

Blinking back at him, Regulus was aghast that James seemed most bothered about the beer. "It was getting into my socks," he said plainly. Nobody wanted wet socks, not even when faced with this situation. Taking another swig of firewhiskey for a bit of dutch courage, Regulus then settled the bottle onto the table before he gestured towards it, indicating James could take some if he wanted. "If I say no, will you forget this ever happened? Maybe you could just obliviate me right now and free us both from whatever funny business Edgar bloody Bones is doing," Reg said, staring furiously at the chair he'd been sat in as if that were the cause of all his problems. He remained rooted firmly in spot, and shrugged. "It might be hell. I think we're in hell."

If James had finished processing the scene in front of him, he did not look like it. Frozen to the spot, he didn't react – not to the clatter of the glass as it hit the table, not to the fervid string of words let out by Regulus. That all-too familiar ringing in his ears seemed to reverberate around the entire room, drowning everything else out, until it became so loud he had to close his eyes for a moment to stop the overstimulation. When he opened them again, he was still standing in the very same room at the Hog's Head. For some reason, he'd half-expected to be somewhere else. James realised Regulus must've said something to him, for all was suddenly quiet, waiting for a response.

"You cleaned up the beer?" It was the first thing he noticed. There was something oddly amusing about that. His weary eyes lingered on Regulus and the bottle that he was currently drinking from. What the fuck was happening right now? He'd never felt so confused in his life. Suddenly, he remembered why he was here, and snapped back to reality. "It's you? You're the double agent? What the ever-loving fuck, Reg?" He stared at him as if this would give him any sort of clarity. "I feel like I'm going mental. Is this a dream?"

"Oh shit," Reg said, glancing down into Frank's basket as if the basket itself held his impending child. "Well congratulations," he offered meagrely, before glancing back down at the basket. "You'll need a lot more ingredients than that to see you through three months worth of sickness. Here," he said, shifting some of the mandrake root from his basket to Frank's. "It's not the easiest thing to get hold of given that the mandrakes need to stew, and I can't buy it for the sake of hoarding ingredients when you're soon to be a father," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Oh, time is already doing a number on me Longbottom, don't you worry."

"Well, the next time I come in here will be with a wig and a moustache, and I'll be a friendly guy called Albert."

"I have a feeling I'll be making lots of morning sickness and Pepper Up potions in the upcoming months. At the very least, I can mail some to you when I find it." Frank said, gesturing towards the small basket already carrying a few essentials. Potions weren't quite a passion of his but he could make them and it was cheaper than constantly buying store-bought ones. He shrugged Regulus's comment aside. "Life will have plenty of opportunities to make you a miserable bastard. Let time work its course instead, enjoy yourself."

Frank studied Regulus's face in consideration. "Albert, yeah. Definitely more of an Albert."

Every time he thought about what he had done, Regulus was filled with an impending sense of doom. He'd sold his soul to a man he didn't trust, a man who would use the information he gave without consideration to the danger it put Regulus in. Sure, protectors were being provided - but really, what was a few Order agents against the might of his extremist family? If his betrayal was revealed, the Dark Lord was the very least of Regulus' problems. Bellatrix would flay him alive, he knew it. Still, he had to remain firm and confident in his decision - he couldn't continue as he had been, and therefore something had to change.

The abruptness with which Regulus had stood up had disrupted the table and the pint of beer toppled over, liquid running over the side of the table and into his shoes. "Motherfucker," he cursed, fumbling for his wand. He cast silencing charms over the room before vanishing the beer. "You can fuck off. Go back to where you came from, and tell Edgar Bones to find me someone else. This is not happening. Is he taking the actual piss?" Regulus ranted furiously. With his wand still in hand, he conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and practically ripped the lid off before lifting the bottle to his lips. It was a sick irony, he supposed, that his own instructions had led to James Potter being before him once again. "Get out. Get out."

There was a double-agent working for the Order. He'd had his own suspicions, but the rumours were confirmed once and for all when James had been asked to act as a protector for them. Of course, he had jumped at the chance. It was an honour, really; the amount of bravery that must take was nothing less than admirable, and James meant it with everything he had when he said he would protect them with his life. The technicalities of their arrangement had been discussed briefly. He had been sworn to secrecy – he was not even to tell Lily, or Sirius – at least for the time being, and so he had left his girlfriend at home with a poor excuse as to why he had to go out. She was far too clever to believe it, but known enough not to question it.

Eyes landed on the black-haired boy as soon as he ascended the spiral staircase leading to the private room that had been arranged for the two of them to make their acquaintance. James recognised the curve of his nose, the set of his jaw at once. Of course he did. He could recognise it in darkness. Mouth agape, it took him several seconds to regain any sort of composure – much less the ability to speak. "Regulus?" His voice was incredulous.

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."

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.

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."

An owl had arrived early that morning with a time and a location for Regulus to meet one of his assigned protectors, which Reg had promptly burned. He was curious to know whether Edgar had been able to meet his request for any assigned protectors to be pureblooded, otherwise he was going to have to start thinking quickly a reason as to why he would be seen with them. He needed to speak to the auror again and see what kind of assurances he was putting in place to ensure that these protectors wouldn't turn around and betray Reg for the right price, as he was placing his life into these unknown hands.

Apparating into the back room at the Hogs Head, Regulus was grateful to see he was there first. A grubby looking pint of undisclosed beer was waiting for him, and Reg cast a few detection spells to ensure it wasn't poisoned before taking a sip with a grimace. He heard footsteps heading up the stairs before he saw the man, and as soon as James Potter rounded the corner Regulus immediately stood up. "No. No, no, no. This is not happening. This is not happening." @jamesffleamont

Reg put the stopper back in the bottle of dittany, watching as Caradoc's skin started to knit itself back together and the wound looked several days old rather than fresh. With the most immediate issue dealt with, Reg cast a few cleansing charms over his boyfriend before casting a general diagnostic charm. With his magic indicating Caradoc's other wounds, Regulus was about to start healing again when Caradoc's words made him freeze.

From his position on the floor, Reg let his wand drop into his lap. He reached to take Caradoc's trembling hands, his gaze resting intently on the other man's face. "This is war, Caradoc. It's life or death, you had to do what you did to stay alive. He would have killed you without thought, and he wouldn't have gone home and felt a single scrap of guilt. I'm glad it was him and not you. And I'm glad you came straight here."

Biting down on his lip for a moment, Regulus was silent for a moment. "Did anyone see Edward die? Anyone that might identify you, that might retaliate?" Regulus might have started feeding the Order information, but to protect Caradoc he would fall back on his arsenal of dark magic and he would feel no guilt about it.

Caradoc inhaled sharply at the feeling of the sting from the essence, watching Regulus work on handling the wound. He had other wounds, yes, but he wasn’t really thinking about any of it. The pain was there, but it was nothing compared to what was haunting his mind. Something had happened tonight that would change his life forever. What if the Ministry found out?

“I killed Edward Avery,” he said, knowing that Regulus would recognize the name as a Death Eater. “I-I didn’t mean to . . . He was attacking us, he was going to kill us, I didn’t . . . Reg, I . . .”

He trembled, partly from the pain, partly out of despair. He had never dreamt that this would happen, even though he had been trained for it. Caradoc thought Regulus might hate him. “And everything fell down around us and I couldn’t move and I didn’t know what to do, Reggie.”

Regulus nodded approvingly as Frank finally saw his logic. "It's just...basic courtesy to other shoppers, I feel. Do you think we'll regularly see each other at the apothecary? I'd appreciate that though, given the owner has a vendetta against me," Reg said, offering Frank a small smile. "Maybe I need to try harder at being a miserable bastard then...it's what my family would want."

"I'm not sure I look much like a Bill either. Something regal...Henry definitely. Albert, or George maybe. Something to match my strong jawline."

"Okay, I can see the logic behind that." Frank said. "Next time I'm first to the shelf, I'll make sure to grab you a few." That seemed only fair, and if it was his right as first to the shelf then Regulus could hardly argue. "Trust me, I've met miserable bastards. You're definitely not one of them.:

Frank pursed his lips in thought, ruminating on possible code names. "The best ones are often the most simple. Go with something more common, like... Bill or Philip. Though honestly you don't look much like a Philip. Henry, maybe?"

"I'd be perfectly happy, I think. I have all the friends that I need, I don't need any new ones," Regulus said with a shrug. The last thing he needed was more people in his life to disappoint. "I just can't see how you can make friends from a brief conversation in public...it's surface level at best."

"You would really prefer to never have to talk to anyone again? Wouldn't that be terribly lonely? How would you make new friends?" They were so fundamentally different it seemed like each of them struggled to understand the other person.

The brief flash of guilt in Caradoc's eyes that quickly got masked by pain once more made Regulus frown, but he would press for more information on that once he had dealt with the more immediate issues. "You're hurt, that is a big deal," he said, kicking the door closed behind them as soon as Caradoc was in from the cold.

Regulus settled Caradoc onto the couch, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he stood again to look his boyfriend over with an analytical eye. "Don't be daft. I can brew more potions, I can't find another Caradoc," Reg said, his tone stern enough to let Caradoc know that he wouldn't take no for an answer on this. "I think....let's deal with the splinching first, unless you have anything more serious? There's too much blood, I can't tell what's what," he said, rifling through the bottles he'd summoned to find his essence of dittany.

Kneeling before Caradoc, Reg moved the scraps of his trousers aside to get a clear look at the wound. Being unable to go to St Mungos after Death Eater missions had led Regulus to learn some basic healing, but he wasn't sure how much good he'd be here. "It might sting, okay?" he said, pulling the stopper out of the bottle before he dropped two drops of the essence on Caradoc's leg.

And here, the guilt was seeping in. One didn’t have to be a genius to tell that Regulus had been asleep, or at the very least planning to go to bed soon. Here Caradoc was, interrupting and bleeding out. “‘S no biggie,” he mumbled as he leaned against his boyfriend, thankful for the assist. It was only when he was inside that he realized just how cold it had been out there.

“Mission. It went sideways. I was with a couple other Aurors — told them to apparate and get help and I stayed behind . . .” He trailed off, trying to spare Regulus anymore of the details. Plus, he didn’t particularly want to think about it himself.

As they reached the living room, Caradoc let out a sigh of relief and leaned his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “This is enough, Reg. Don’t waste any of your potions on me,” he said, just happy to be here.

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."

Reg had just been about to settle into sleep when the wards alerted him that someone was on his property. He was shirtless in bed, so he darted out of bed and grabbed the first shirt that he could see. It was haphazard between the shirt and his tartan pyjama bottoms, but if there was a threat outside, the last thing he wanted was to be shirtless. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes furiously, Reg slipped his feet into his slippers and quietly descended the stairs, wand outstretched.

Almost a minute had lapsed since the wards alerted him before there was a knock at the door. It almost soothed him - anyone with nefarious intentions wasn't likely to knock and announce their presence, but he was still on edge as he opened the door. The defensiveness running through his body quickly melted into worry as he opened the door a crack and took in the sight of Caradoc. "Merlin," he gasped out, opening the door fully. "Come in."

Stepping out into the cold, Reg wrapped his arm around Caradoc, helping him into the house. As they walked slowly through to the living room, Reg was waving his wand furiously, summoning all of the healing potions he had stored. "What happened?"

starter 002 for @battle-scvrs (regulus black)

location: regulus black’s manor

Honestly, Caradoc hadn’t even meant to apparate to his boyfriend’s house. When doing the spell, all that ran through his head was ‘warmth, comfort, home’ and he ended up here . . . Which he supposed was rather fitting. Even though he didn’t want Regulus to worry, he’d rather be here than his flat. Plus, along with the injuries he had incurred during the disastrous Order mission, he was pretty sure he had just splinched his leg a tiny bit. Glancing down, he saw a gash had ripped part of his pants. Well, damn.

Caradoc sighed, trying to erase the images of the mission from his head. They’d probably only show up in his nightmares later, which made him shudder. He slowly approached the manor, hoping that he wasn’t bothering Reg. A part of him thought that he should go home, but trying to apparate again didn’t sound like a good idea.

So, he knocked on the door, and also leaned against it while he waited for his boyfriend to answer. Even just seeing Reg would make him feel better, Caradoc knew. He’d only stay for a few minutes, he wouldn’t be a bother, he told himself.

Regulus's gaze fixed upon Frank with a curious eye, before he shook his head. "Whether I was in the shop first is irrelevant...if you were at the shelf first, that's what's most important. You'd be entitled to take whatever you need," he said, it making absolute sense in his mind. "A bit of a grump...not a huge grump, but a bit. I'll take it. Better than being known for being a miserable bastard," he said, lips curling into a brief grin.

"Oh, well now when I go home I'm going to have to sit and think about future code names. Leo is too obvious, he'd know it was me immediately."

"Maybe, but if you were here first you deserve some as well, don't you think?" Maybe he ought to try and talk with Regulus more often, this really was a fascinating conversation. "Only a bit of a grump though. Everyone has to work at politeness anyways. It's a learned skill. You could definitely do it.

"Why not both? Go fully under cover. Give yourself a code name. Could be a bit amusing, honestly."

It was almost too good. The woman had barely needed any pushing at all before she exploded off a cliff edge in fury, and Regulus couldn't hold back his smirk. It was so easy, and he had hardly a care in the world for the other patrons in the store as he continued poking the angry bear. "Oh, daddy dearest has lots of good ideas...it's hard to listen to him though when his dulcet tones are drowned out by my mother's shrill shrieking. Its a wonder I still have eardrums at all," he mused nonchalantly. "Your mother gave you 'rude' as a middle name? She must hate you."

Adrenaline was thrumming through his veins as she shoved him, and he shot her a shit-eating grin as she screamed, entirely unbothered by her sudden increase in volume. "Yes, you should be polite. You're bothering the other patrons with your shrieking," he said smoothly, continuing to pile random potions ingredients in his basket. With a keen eye, he watched what she picked up and as she walked away, Regulus pulled his wand out and subtly cast a vanishing spell on the vial in her hand. The rest of the vials were his, and he cast a quick protection spell over the basket to prevent her from magically stealing one from him.

She was beyond annoyed. All Georgette wanted was to go to the Apothecary, get some ingredients then go back to her safe space. This interaction is precisely why she didn't go out. Little pricks who thought they were better than everyone else roaming around causing trouble for no good reason. All she wanted was something to help with her hands. That's it. And the asshole had to be an asshole. She couldn't let him get away with it. It wasn't in her nature.

"Obviously your mother was wrong but your father had some great ideas. You should really listen to him more. Believe me. I'm nowhere in the middle. Not an ounce of me thinks you're the 'best boy,'" she scoffed. "I'm in father's camp." Him telling her she was rude like it was supposed to bother her was laughable. She lived to be rude. "Rude is my middle name and I'm not about to give it up now. Especially for the likes of you."

As he elbowed her, Georgette's anger seethed. She pushed him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? I hadn't laid a finger on you no matter how much I wanted to. And you're telling me to be polite while you elbow me?! Fuck you!" she screamed. She saw him shoveling vile after vile into his basket. "You bloody bastard." She looked at the shelf they had been at. He hadn't gotten everything. She picked up one of the viles she needed and stormed past him headed to get another for her potion, shoulder checking him as she walked by.

Regulus didn't want to feel this seemingly unending bitterness towards his brother. He didn't want to poke and prod at Sirius, not when he still secretly wanted his older brother's approval - though he knew he would never truly receive it. It seemed that no matter what he did, he would never make anyone happy - including himself. Sirius' silence would've concerned Regulus another time, and he was sure that when he returned home he would dwell on what it all meant, but for now Reg chose to sit in the awkwardness of the atmosphere between them. "And why would I have more run ins with the auror, brother? What are you accusing me of?" Regulus challenged, his gaze stony and hard.

"And take the rest of the family history with it? It's our story, Sirius, whether you like it or not," Reg shrugged. He wasn't liking it so much these days, but he still found the history on the tapestry interesting. He wondered how many of their ancestors had doubts like he did, buried deep inside. "If you're insistent that you aren't going to take it, there's little point in you being here and waiting for the aurors to deem us worthy of their time. You might as well go," he suggested, hoping to rid himself of this awkwardness.

Sirius was glad to be facing away as his brother spoke, a frown falling onto his face before he could control his expression. It seemed impossible that he had always been such a failure, a remarkable disappointment to his parents, and yet somehow they'd been using him as a bar to reach to. He felt guilt twist in his stomach despite all the years he'd spent trying to convince himself that his parents' behaviors were no fault of his own. It was harder to keep that belief up when he heard the bitterness in Regulus's tone. He was silent a beat too long, completely unsure what to say, and Regulus filled the silence with talk of the aurors. "I don't know," he shrugged, happy to move onto a new subject. "I'm sure you have a lot more run ins with them than I do." Working in the pub and keeping a relatively straight life meant most of his run ins with aurors were just them picking up people who were drunk and dangerous.

"She should have burned it down," he muttered, frowning to himself. Sirius was almost surprised the tapestry was still standing, sure it must just be a constant reminder of all the disappointments the Black family was starting to gather; his betrayal just the most recent. "Maybe it has both of our names on it or something," he sighed, lolling back in the chair again. "Or someone died and left us something." Though he couldn't think of many family members who would leave them both something. Just as he thought it the door swung open and Sirius went back to lolling lazily in the chair - the perfect image of unbothered.