If He Weren't As Riled As He Was, Bellatrix's Icy Silence Would Have Driven Terror Into His Heart. Despite

Aaron Taylor-Johnson as James Frey ⤷ A Million Little Pieces | dir. Sam Taylor-Johnson

It felt like more missions than ever were being sent his way, and he dared not mention it to anyone else lest it sound like he was complaining about serving the Dark Lord. What had initially been nothing more than once a fortnight was becoming at least once every few days, and his other days were taken up with trying to force himself into being the man everyone expected him to be. The sight of Emmeline had the tension releasing from Regulus' shoulders - she didn't have the same level of expectation of him as some of the others, and that settled his nerves about the evening ahead.

Turning his attention back to the building that towered over them, he nodded his agreement. "It's quite beautiful, really. It's a wonder the muggles managed to create something this beautiful all on their own...or perhaps, there was wizardry involved at the time," he mused, although he supposed that if a wizard had been involved in the architecture of the muggle government then that would be documented in one of their history books. "I am familiar with curses, Merlin knows my family has enough cursed artefacts around the house...but I can certainly cast curses too."

It had been months since she'd last gotten a chance to tackle something that didn't directly involve the breaking of curses. Of course, Emmeline loved the idea of anything related to dark magic, but simply breaking things was, in the long-run, boring. What a chance to fate to find herself tasked to take care of something concerning the muggle government. So much more room for fun when those silly muggles were involved. Perhaps the recent revelations had put her in a sour mood regarding those she considered lesser than them, either way, the witch was looking forward to this.

Regulus had always been someone of promising talent, someone that even the older witch could admire for the efforts. "Good evening, Regulus." Was that the hint of a smirk hidden within the corner of her lips? Her eyes moved across the building, scanning the area. For the moment his question registered, yet the answer put on hold. "It is impressive, isn't it? Too bad it's occupied by fools." Attention diverted, it finally returned to the person next to her. "I have." Head nodding she turned toward the wizard. "There is plenty to be done here. What have you been told?" She wasn't someone willing to waste time on repeating things the other already knew. "Let me rephrase it: how familiar are you with curses?" Nothing major was needed. There was hardly a need to set the entire building ablaze, yet. - @battle-scvrs

The last time Fenrir had found himself so vulnerable in the arms of another, he had ended up with Magnus at the end of it all. He'd spent so long working his way through the pack, fiercely independent and comfortable in his own company, and he hadn't expected Nancy to worm her way into his heart. Now history was repeating itself again. Things had started with Dora as a way to warm each other's beds, and now there was something....more. Something unexpected, but something wonderful. "I hope he does. I hope he knows his father wants only the best for him," Fenrir said earnestly. "There's nothing left of Anders. There was nothing but scraps at time, but I made sure those scraps disappeared. Nobody even cared enough to look for him," he sneered, thinking of the way his father had intentionally isolated them away. Taking her words on board, Fenrir nodded slowly, offering her a tight smile. "I try my best."

He knew that Pandora must have spent a great deal of time infusing these bracelets with her own magic, and he appreciated it more than he could say. "I don't need more. This is perfect, it's so thoughtful," he said, leaning his forehead against hers as their eyes met. With the war growing darker, and Fenrir finding himself being called upon more and more, it was a gift like no other to be able to know that his son was safe and away from it all.

Fenrir's hands came to settle on Pandora's waist, thumbs aimlessly tracing circles. "Darling, I'd cook for us. I like doing it, it makes me feel useful. Speaking of, what are you doing for New Years? If you have nothing on I could make us a meal, then we could go away for the night somewhere?"

The stress of the day melted away being tucked in Fenrir's arms. All her worries and doubts, they didn't matter when she was here in his home. Laying there listening to his story about his father stirred feelings of anger and sadness for him. Her parents were far from perfect, but they celebrated their way. "I bet you Magnus feels that love. I see it in your eyes when you talk about him. If your father was here still, I'd hurt him myself, for making you feel that way." A hand comes up to cup his cheek, leaning up to kiss his chin. "I also want to point out, you are nothing like your father. You are a strong leader who does have compassion, in his own way, but you care about those who are your pack above all, you protect those that you love."

Pandora would never grow tired of kissing him. There was this spark that sparked each time their lips met and it was one of the best feelings that washed over her. Her eyes lit up when he opened the box with the bracelets, spending the last few weeks to get the spell right, but with a twist of her own magic in it. "You deserve more, Fen." There was a peace of mind knowing that he would always be able to know where Magnus was when he couldn't be home.

"This is our first Christmas together." Fingers comb gently through his hair, moving it away from his face. "I'm really hoping that next year, we could all do it together." She was hopefully for what their future could look like, ignoring all the obstacles that would be in their way. "I'm not the best cook, but I think I could put a meal together."

"Table three want to talk to the chef," had been yelled in Fenrir's general direction amongst the rest of the hustle and bustle of the kitchen by the bartender who disappeared almost as quickly as they'd appeared. "Fuck's sake...what now," he'd muttered to himself, wiping his hands against his chef's whites to make himself a little more presentable. Making his way out into the main room of The White Wyvern, Fenrir quirked an eyebrow at the person sat at table three. "I heard you wanted to speak to me, what can I help with?"

Reg's shoulders tensed at Alecto's expression, almost curling in on himself to prepare for the agony that he felt was incoming. It wouldn't be the first time someone he liked and trusted had used the cruciatus on him, nor would it be the last. The pain didn't come though, and slowly the tension left his muscles. Nodding at her word of caution, Reg shot her a small grin - one of fondness, not of teasing. "Lesson learned. Don't poke the bear."

"I think if you were to turn me into some sort of other creature that might please my parents more than the person I am currently," he muttered, bitterness seeping into his tone. "I wouldn't mind tea if the elves can prepare a pot."

Her eyes narrow at him when he starts to mimic knitting, tempted to send a wave of pain throughout his body in warning, letting the thought fade when he lifted his hands up in surrender. He was family in a sense and wished to keep the little of the Black's that were left, close. "I am going to let you speak, be wise what you say." Her hand waves to remove the spell.

"I am not in the mood for trying my patience. Let's have a visit that won't have you turned into a vile creature." That was pregnant Alecto being nice. "Did you wish for something to drink?"

@battle-scvrs

"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.

Kingsley looked at his friend with a curious eye, wondering exactly what Edgar had been doing that day. "I'd like to tell you that you look wonderful, but my mother raised me not to tell lies," he smirked, knowing that the next time he came back from a mission bedraggled that Edgar would rake him over the coals. "Feels like each day is getting a little tougher, it's no wonder the bars are getting busier," he mused, his tone taking a more serious turn. "Ros is going to be raking it in."

Given the way their head auror had been badgering Kingsley for weeks to get his pile of paperwork sorted, he figured that they would be forgiving that Kings had disappeared half an hour early. Kingsley kept taking the night shifts anyways, he was due a little good grace. "Isn't it always?" he rolled his eyes fondly. His body language shifted at the mention of Sade, shoulders tightening and his easy-going expression morphing into one of concern. "She's....fine. You know what she wants, but I can't say I'm pleased about it. I'm worried for her, but equally, I won't stop her if that's what she decides. I've made my concerns known. We're both blood traitors, it's not like we're safe anyway...I just don't want her to put herself, or Jasper, at any unnecessary risk."

Edgar let out a chuckle, fingers combing through his hair, shaking his head. "I think I look the same I feel." He was looking forward to heading home after a drink to take a long shower. He had a few more days before Hestia would be moving in with him and he was trying not to have any regrets about it. This was the best for the both of them.

He knew they had a little more time before they should leave, but considering the amount of overtime he had put in recently, there should be no issue. "You won't hear me protesting." Both hands push into the armrests of the chair to stand up. "First round is on you though," the grins, heading towards the front door of their department. "How is your sister doing?" He knew Sade had asked for more involvement with the Order and wanted to talk to Kings about it.

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.

Having already had one table complain about the food (which was absolutely the waiter's fault for taking a wrong order), Fenrir was braced for another complaint. "Oh, it's no bother at all. It's two cheeses actually, a mix of a sharp cheddar and an aged parmesan. I find it adds a lot of depth."

"Yes hi. So sorry to bother you. It's nothing bad, I just had the potato puree and it was really good." Greta smiled, trying to use her charm to her advantage. "I saw that you used cheese in it and I wanted to ask which one."