battle-scvrs

Latest Posts by battle-scvrs

— unknown

I've become so numb, I can't feel you there, Become so tired, so much more aware. I'm becoming this, all I want to do, Is be more like me and be less like you.

@battle-scvrs

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.

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

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

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

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

"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?"

As his victim hit the ground, a vicious smirk carved itself onto Fenrir's face. While he wanted to relish in the screaming of his victims there would be time for that later once they had extracted their mark. His gaze followed Thorfinn as he crept through the house, and he cast a swift cushioning charm on the ground to prevent too much noise alerting those upstairs. The last thing they needed was their mark apparating away.

Comfortable that the ground floor was now clear, Fenrir began creeping up the stairs. One guard stood in front of a closed door, and there was a brief moment of surprise on his face before another diffindo sliced the man's head cleanly from his shoulders. Casting a glance into two empty rooms, Fenrir gestured towards the last door which was firmly closed. His alohamora bounced off the door, and he turned to see if Thorfinn was following behind him. "The others are all in there. Four against two. We're going to have to blast through the wards."

Thorfinn stood patiently, counting down the seconds in his head before he apparated in with Fenrir. He could feel his fingers itching to get dirty and to cause some pain. This was what he longed for, what he craved, and an outlet he welcomed. The blonde followed behind the other, mask over his face, a smirk underneath at the destruction already in place.

He moved through the cabin, coming around the corner to where another law enforcement appeared. A disarming charm used, following his fellow death eater's way, a silence charm placed to hide the noise and with no warning, the unforgiveable death curse uttered, watching his assailant collapse to the ground. Two down, meant there were four more inside.

Since Lucius had settled himself in front of her and remained unmoved, Cassie had practically been waiting for him to ask for her healing services. "I'll send you my contracts and my pricing via owl when I get home. With how difficult pregnancy can be, I will be on call whenever either of you need me," Cassie assured him, though that of course would come with a hefty price - one she was certain the Malfoy vaults could spare. "Lots of protein and calcium. I have a list at home of some recommended dishes to meet the intake, I can send you that as well. It just helps promote Narcissa's health, and healthy growth of the baby," she mused, pulling some parchment from her bag to scribble down a list of things she needed to send Lucius. "Keeping your wife happy while she grows your child is probably the best thing you can do for your ongoing health. Massages, anything strange she's craving, sensitive gestures...it will mean a lot," Cassie said with a small grin.

They were in the process of find a suitable healer and Cassie Borgin came to mind. "I have spoken to my wife, and we would like you to be our healer." With her reputation, she could be trusted, her family a long history within the cause. Lucius listened carefully to what she had to say and nodded his head. "Is there a list I should be giving them?" He wanted to make sure this was done correctly. "I can give massages." He could try at least. "This is all note worthy information."

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."

Having already sent an owl to warn of her impending arrival, Cassie had apparated across to Val's at 7pm on the dot. She had two bottles of wine in her bag along with a box of chocolates, and as soon as she apparated into her friend's home she threw herself down on the couch. "I brought wine!" she called loudly, wondering whereabouts in the house Val was. @valeria-flint

Sighing longingly at Nick's words, Cassie thought that perhaps she was long overdue a proper vacation. Even when she went away, she still seemed to end up bombarded with owls asking for advice. Perhaps if she went international that was less likely to occur. "I don't want to dash your dreams, Nick, but I'm a perpetually busy healer. I rarely have time to get up to anything exciting. I can tell you some of the most exciting wounds I've healed recently if you want."

"Blue seas and cloudless skies. It was the anti-Britain." Nick said with a sigh. He did miss the views, even if the company here was much better. Clinking his glass against hers he took a sip and gave her a look over. "What did I miss, then? Surely you've done something exciting. Emir was a bore when I asked him."

Fenrir much preferred the quietness of this evening with Pandora to attending the Selwyn party where certain pure-bloods would look down their noses at him for his dirty blood when he knew full well they would work alongside him on a battle field without thinking anything further. If not for Pandora, he would have gone - though he'd have been in a foul temper all evening. "I can cast warming charms over you when we head out, but you know that I'll keep you warm," he said, knowing she liked the way he ran hot. He'd built up the fire in the living room of the cabin anyway, but his witch would curl into his side and seek warmth from him and he knew it. "Of course I do. If you weren't fun sized, I wouldn't be able to do this," he turned in her hold before lifting her easily so she could settle her legs around his waist. "There. You can see me eye-to-eye now," he grinned at her.

"Tell me," he said, his grin disappearing as he tried to guess from her tone what she might want to discuss.

If Pandora could stay here, call this their home, she would in a heart beat. All that was missing was Magnus. Perhaps next year, the four of them, never one to leave out Nancy, could spend it together. Her nose wrinkles at the popping of the champagne bottle, ready to have a little drink, yet, she would not unwind her arms around his, wanting to feel their fingers tangled together.

"I cannot wait to got outside and share them with you." He was like a furnace and would keep her warm, not having to dress to warm to go outside. "It sounds like heaven." Anywhere with him felt like that, a cloud nine she never wanted to come down on. There was no denying how short she was, especially beside him. "You like me fun size anyway," she teased back soflty.

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about." There were not many she talked about her magic with, except one who had shown interest recently, and with her clock finished, she hesitated a little to reach out, but there was this deep seeded need to please Bellatrix.

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."

Settling his own mask over his face, Fenrir offered Thorfinn a curt nod. He fell silent for the rest of the time until the shift change, though the beast under his skin was practically whining to be let free. As the patrol began to apparate away leaving the thinnest window of time with less guards, Fenrir apparated straight to the front door that had just been vacated and walked straight in.

In the first reception room was a sole guard, taken by surprise by Fenrir's sudden appearance. With a vicious curve of his wand, Fenrir disarmed the other man and snapped his wand. A lazy silencing charm prevented the other man from calling for help, before he smiled cruelly behind his mask. "Diffindo," he cast as he slashed with his wand, watching a cut appear nearly down the front of the man's torso. The man's mouth was open in a pained scream, though no sound came out as the floor was painted with blood.

He could feel that buzzing energy begin to spread from his finger tips and down his arms. The sudden need to let go and allow the real him to come out, who what he was truly capable of. His head slanted side to side. "Shift change is in ten minutes." They were earlier than he expected, but hidden nonetheless.

"I can manage the mark." It was one he had flashed into the air plenty of times, satisfaction hitting him each time. His hands rubbed together, pulling out his mask. "Are you ready for this?"

Cassandra took a sip of her drink before setting it down again, surveying Lucius with careful eyes. She knew of the other man's nature and could only imagine how protective he may grow over a child, particularly a son, and nodded as he spoke. "What healers is she seeing? Not the Mungos healers, surely? But whatever midwife Narcissa is seeing, have they said that the baby is progressing as standard? Morning sickness should start to subside as you get further into the second trimester, but she may start feeling very sore and tired. Something as simple as a back or shoulder massage might set her at ease, and might help with those mood swings...Are your elves well versed in foods suitable for pregnant women?"

He knew there were others he could talk to, but there were only some he could trust. Cassie was one of them. "I know." He leaned back in his chair, nodding his head at her congratulating them. Lucius was waiting until they found out the sex of the baby, wishing for a boy to carrying the family name on. "She is about fifteen weeks." He had been counting, a calendar made. "Moody, sensitive with certain smells and food, some morning sickness. Seems to be getting better. I want to be better prepared. I come seeking your advice."

With a glass of wine in hand, Cassie had largely been lingering at the edges of the party. She was most comfortable with a lack of eyes on her, quite content to sit back and watch everything unfold. "Evening Emma. I dusted off my formal dress for the occasion, instead of my usual healers robes," Cassie said with a smile. "Busier than ever with everything that's going on. People call on me at all hours of the night...it keeps life exciting though, keeps my brain ticking. How are you? I still need to make it to one of your games and see you play for myself."

location: selwyn manor @battle-scvrs (cassie)

Emma was surprised to see Cassandra Borgin at the Selwyn's new years eve party, but as they had not spoken in a while she decided to go over and catch up. She was a good healer, one of the few Emma trusted. As a famous athlete she did not want to go in to see a healer and have things end up in the gossip magazines. "Cassie. You look well. How have you been?"

REGULUS BLACK

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.

The week between Christmas and New Year seemed to pass with a blur. He had taken the week off work to spend as much time with Magnus as possible, including spending half a day building some lego with him which he'd then left out for Fenrir to step on in the night without a lumos to guide his way. He knew there was only so many Christmases he'd get with his son while he still felt the magic of it all, and Fenrir had wanted to soak in every minute. Going away with Pandora for New Years felt like the perfect end to his year, and the right start to the next once.

The cabin was close to Lake Windemere, but still private enough that it felt like a slice of paradise. It was exactly the sort of place that Fenrir loved being, disconnected from society with plenty of nature surrounding them. He'd just uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured them both a glass when he felt his witch's arms circling him, and he reached down to tangle their hands together. "I did say something about stars. I thought we could take a blanket outside along with these, pick out some constellations," he said, squeezing her hand gently. "You are tiny, my darling."

where: 31st of december where: cabin on the lake district who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback)

Pandora had been looking forward to get little trip away with Fenrir since he mentioned in Christmas day. The week seemed to have more purpose and she held her duties before work, family and at nights she would spend it with him.

After dinner they collected their bags and apparated to a cabin that he had on the lake districts, the two of them tucked away from the world, the way she liked it. Pandora came out of the bedroom to find him in the kitchen. "This place is beautiful." There was an tranquility about it.

"If I remember, you mentioned something about stars." She wraps her arms from behind him, her head hitting the middle of his back, nipping gently. "I never realise how short I am until I'm standing next to you." She chuckles softly.

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.

As soon as it was evident that Lucius was not going to leave her be, Cassandra set her book down carefully. "That's still a branch of healing, Lucius," she said matter-of-factly, before she offered him a smile. "Congratulations on your impending arrival. How many weeks along is she? Has the first trimester been difficult?"

Lucius had seen the witch and there were a million questions that popped in his head when it came to his wife's pregnancy. He took no hesitation sitting down across from her, leaning back in his chair. "I do not coming to ask about healing. I need to know about pregnancy and what to expect in the second trimester." He loved Narcissa, but her mood swings, he wasn't certain he'd make it to their baby being born.

At the end of it all the fundamental truth was that Fenrir would burn the rest of the world to keep Magnus and his extended family safe. He was grateful that almost everyone he cared about was within his pack where he could ensure their safety, and though this thing between himself and Pandora was still new he would protect her the same way he would protect any member of his pack. Holding her a little tighter, Fenrir made a noise of approval, brushing a kiss to her temple. "We can speak of my mother sometime, of her warmth and her joy. Not tonight...but Freya Greyback deserves to be remembered warmly."

"You never need to cook when I'm about," Fenrir assured her. It was a pure-blooded thing, he assumed, that they relied entirely on elves and refused to learn basic cooking skills themselves. Fenrir's years in the pack where he barely lifted a wand had honed his skills, both basic survival cooking and some of the finer aspects simply because he could. "I want to take you away somewhere. Somewhere that's just for us. Meet me here at dinner on New Years Eve, and we'll eat here and then head away."

Pandora truly believed that Fenrir would give his son the love that he never got from his father, a love she was certain her parents did not hold enough like the man in front of her did for his child. She showed a virtue that was important to the witch and she was certain that was one of the many things that captivated her. "Then we shall never speak of him again, because his memory will not longer live on." She would never bring up his name again.

A soft smile lingers on her lips, pleased that he appreciated her gift and she felt light knowing that she could protect them both in a way they needed. "The necklace is beautiful. I will treasure it always."

She let out a sigh of relief when Fenrir said he would do the cooking. "You really saved me there." There was a comfort that came with his touch, returning back to her position of laying beside him on the couch. "I would love to spend new years eve with you. I don't care where we go, or we can stay there. I want to spend it with you."

The longer this woman kept him stood here, throwing accusations around in his place of employment, the angrier Fenrir was getting. His fury was simmering under his skin, his wolf aching to get at the woman in front of him. Part of Fenrir knew that if he did anything to this woman then it would ruin any chance of Remus ever joining a werewolf pack, but the other part of him wanted to see if Remus would see the difference that it made when one had another werewolf alongside at the full moon. "I'll do what I want. Keep your warnings to yourself, you don't scare me girl," he sneered at her, before turning and walking back into the kitchen.

Aurora knew, in the pit of her stomach, that this wasn't the smartest idea, but the love she had for Remus, was stronger than standing in the back. She would fiercely protective of those she loved. Though, she could agree, Remus needed to accept who he was fully to gain better control, but that wasn't something she would admit to it. There had to be other werewolves that could help. "You act like you'd have the opportunity to even do so." She snorts. "I'm sorry, you mean where you prey on innocent children that can't fight back. How manly of you." She sneers, eyes narrowing at him. "I might be too old for your liking." The witch took a step back. "Stay away from him." She warns.

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.

"Oh shit, that is exciting. Now that I think about it you do look more tanned than anyone should be in this weather," Cassie said, casting her gaze over him again. "I bet it was beautiful blue seas, right? Nothing like the grey water we have here." When the bottles arrived, Cassie uncorked the wine and poured them both a glass. "Cheers to your birthday," she said, clinking her glass against his.

"Aruba, bitches." Nick said, smug as can be. "I tried being a changed man for like, two days and it didn't take. Pushes someone into the ocean instead, felt much better." It didn't take him long to flag down a waiter, took even less time to shove a few galleons their way and get two of their finest bottles of red. "Only for you, Cassie."

"I don't have cheese fondue nearly as often as I want to. Unfortunately I haven't convinced my five year old son that cheese fondue is delicious yet, so my recipes at home have shrunk down to kid friendly meals...which mostly means chicken nuggets," Fenrir said with a snort. "Grilled peaches and goats cheese sounds incredible. I feel like that would be good with some spice to cut through the sweetness of the peaches, some fresh chili on top perhaps. Yes, I'll owl it across to you later once my shift finishes. No point you trying to make an imitation, I don't mind sharing my recipe."

"It is one of my favorite cheeses. I always use it when I make fondue. Oh, goat's cheese is lovely, I prefer it paired with fruits or vegetables in a cold dish, rather than a main, if I'm honest. It is more of a summer cheese for me, I made a good salad with grilled peaches and goats cheese in my book that I've heard good reviews about from people that have tried it." Balsamic vinegar, leeks and goats cheese worked well together, she could see the recipe it come together in her head when he described it. "Really? Oh please, that would be lovely."

Fenrir sneered at the woman as she took another step towards him, and he stared down at her with unwavering eyes. She threatened him in his place of employment, and Fenrir wouldn't take any threat lying down. "Yes, like werewolves. That is what he is regardless of what he may pretend to be," he said, filing away the information that she offered him - a weakness for Remus. "You lay a single hand on me and you'll find my teeth in your neck at the next full moon. Ask Remus how empty my threats are. Now, if you have any sense girl, you'll run along and leave me be."

Aurora was fuming and without realising it, she found herself standing in front of him. She knew everything about him and the cruel ways he turned innocent children. "What, like werewolves? Just because we are not werewolves, does not mean he doesn't have his own pack. It can be what you make of it. And I suggest you leave my boyfriend alone." The words came firing out of her mouth that she had no control. "Careful Fenrir. I would hate to touch you and find something about your future." She hissed at hi. This was the one time she wished her powers would work to her will.