Every Time He Thought About What He Had Done, Regulus Was Filled With An Impending Sense Of Doom. He'd

Watching the other woman shrink away from him, Reg briefly felt vindicated before an irritating feeling that may have been called regret prickled at his skin. He might be grumpy, but he supposed that Greta didn't deserve to receive the brunt of that grumpiness. Stepping back towards her, Regulus tapped her shoulder gently. "Hey...I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Greta grimaced at his tone, shrinking back. "I'm sorry. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." Quickly grabbing the things she needed she stepped back, making her way to the register.

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.”

"There's a small dash of mustard in there too, and some nutmeg," he said. He may work in a pub kitchen, he may be looked down upon within society, but he saw no reason to serve shit food. He kept his employers happy, and they continued to turn a blind eye to the days off that he requested each month like clockwork. "I find that the two work very well together. Just the right balance of each, and some finely sliced potatoes and...voila, or whatever the French say."

"Oh cheddar and parmesan together is a great idea. Usually people shy away from combining two stronger flavor profiles but I do find that they compliment each other well."

Fenrir couldn't stop the look of absolute bafflement on his face as the woman rambled about protective whiskey. "The only thing this whiskey is protecting me from is the Christmas crowds, and it's giving me a cheerful mood," he said, tone laced with sarcasm. At her next question, Fen tilted his head slightly, considering the words. "Whiskey makes me feel good. I don't need to worry about being seen, I seem to attract attention wherever I go without me working for it."

"Huh." The sound came out a soft note, permeated with sincere interest. "Amber's thought to ward off negative energy. Maybe that whiskey's protecting you from something," she said, writing something else down before throwing the quill in the depths of her handbag, folding the napkin up and putting it in her pocket. "Did it make you feel good when I did? Did you feel seen?" A gentle tug pulled the corners of her lips into a small smirk.

There was a saying that Regulus perhaps should have remembered upon entry to the Lestrange household, and that was 'don't poke the bear'. Upon seeing Alecto's eyes, it was fairly clear to him that his humour and general wit was not welcome here presently, and he shot her a wide grin. It would intimidate him if not for the fact he knew he held a soft spot in her dark heart, and his parents had trained him to be able to take a beating. He mimed as if he was knitting to her, before holding his hands up in surrender. 'Sorry,' he mouthed, trying to school his features to look somewhat sheepish.

Despite being a little shit, Regulus didn't want to truly piss off one of the few people that was still in his corner.

An owl had been sent earlier to warn her of his appearance. She was inclined to send one back refusing his visit, but with being home from Hogwarts for the weekend, and no use of her needed for the cause at the moment, his presence wasn't entirely horrid.

Each word that uttered from his incompetent mouth ignited a fire inside of her, her fingers itching to wring his neck for being so insolent. Eyes narrowed like daggers at the young Black wizard, her wand in a close hand, where she pointed it at him. "Silencio" A single word held him tight lip. Alecto turns to face him. "It appears Regulus Black, you have forgotten your manners and who I am." A coldness to her tone, not unusual for her. "Do not make me regret allowing you over." She warns, taking a deep breath. "If I let you speak, will you behave? I will not hold back from torturing you if you try me."

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.

No matter how hard he tried, Regulus knew that he was a disappointment. He knew that his parents wished that Sirius was still here over Regulus, because he was the stronger of the two boys. He knew that Bellatrix believed Sirius would have made a better Death Eater, and privately, he agreed. The further they got into this war, the more obvious it was becoming to Regulus that this was not the right path for him. Torture turned his stomach, he couldn't cast a strong unforgivable to save his life, and Regulus didn't dare to think about his changing opinions on blood purity in Bellatrix's presence. Even with his occlumency firmly in place, Regulus didn't dare to think even a single thought about Caradoc Dearborn. He had a sinking feeling that whatever Bellatrix had called him here for could not be good, and it was not merely a friendly catch up.

Holding his cup tightly in his hands, Regulus was about to lift the drink to his lips when Bella dropped her spoon and he flinched again. Trying to brush it off, Regulus leaned back into his chair with a practiced air of casual nonchalance. He was, after all, a pureblood. He had been acting his whole life, and though Bellatrix had keen eyes and an iron-clad will, Regulus would not let his cousin trip him up.

"He is more than adequate, he is great. You are the best, and I know you are - you and I both know that. But you are too important to the cause to busy yourself with my inability to cast lasting unforgivables. Let Rabastan deal with that, while you honour the Dark Lord," he said, playing on Bella's absolute devotion. He held her gaze firmly, not wanting to shy away from it no matter the fact he felt she may be piercing into his very soul. "Cousin, I cannot ask that of you," he protested again, before Bellatrix revealed the true reason for her owl. "Ah, so you and Rabastan have been gossiping about me," he said, his tone holding a hint of fury. "That was supposed to be private. It was fine, Rab dealt with it. They didn't even come close to hitting me, because the Order are shit. They are unruly and undisciplined, they have no hope," he said, setting the cup of tea down so firmly that some splashed over the side onto the saucer. "Whether or not I die is nothing to do with you, Bella. You have done your best, but I need you to respect my wishes. I do not want you to teach me." He didn't have the stomach for whatever Bellatrix's teaching would look like, and he knew it. "I appreciate the offer, I do. Truly."

A little fear did wonders - in everyone, not just her enemies. Friends and family were treated equally to her charming personality, though they benefitted from her loyalty and never-ceasing protection, as smothering as it could sometimes be. These days, Bellatrix was acutely aware of the effect she had on those dearest to her. She was fuelled by a desperation to bind them to herself, outraged by both Sirius and Andromeda and the hurt they had ripped through the Black family - through her. So she clung to Cissy and Regulus, trying her hardest to make their lives both worthwhile and worthy. Yet she knew that this approach was not always welcome, and that it had pushed Regulus elsewhere. She was truly and wholeheartedly trying to temper her behaviour. But it was not easy to moderate Bellatrix Lestrange. The witch was too unruly even for herself.

Scoffing at his statement on avoidance, she dropped a few sugar lumps into her cup and stirred it. The spoon swished silently, avoiding the delicate china surround with fine-tuned accuracy. Then it clattered down onto the saucer, undoing all of her careful attention to avoiding jarring noises - speaking of which, while she would ordinarily and happily have soaked up compliments, in this instance she saw right through them. So she raised her cup to her lips and took an indulgent gulp, her eyes remaining centred on him all the while. She did not miss his grimace.

"You deserve more than 'adequate', Regulus. You are the last of the Black heirs. You deserve the best." Her stare was truly like a pair of daggers, sharpened and primed to carve her message home. Sirius was a waste of space and she would not permit Regulus to become the same. He would be great, even if she had to drag him through fire and brimstone to get him there herself. And oh, how she hated Sirius for bringing this fate into Regulus's life. Sirius should have been the Death Eater. She was not a fool - she knew Regulus was not truly suited to it. But it was now his duty and he must fulfil it. They all had duties. He was not exempt. "I will help you. You cannot freeze during battles, cousin. You could have been killed. If that had happened-" She paused, hesitating over her words in the most uncharacteristic manner. Then she continued, practically slicing the words across her tongue, reluctant to express their truthful sentimentality. "I would never have forgiven myself."

"But I've been so cruel to you. We've been so cruel to you, and to...Ted, never mind little Nymphadora. I wouldn't have blamed you at all if you'd said no, and left me to it," Regulus said, a slight wobble to his voice that he tried to pass off with a cough. "I'm glad I did too," he said with a small smile. "Just to set you at ease, this house is very strongly warded. Nobody can apparate or floo inside without a warning first, so if another of our relatives were to appear you would get enough warning to be able to disappear quickly. Nobody really visits me though, I wouldn't worry too much," he shrugged. He liked it that way - it kept his home private and comfortable, and he was more than happy to put in plenty of appearances at his parents house or his other cousins' various manors if it kept them away from his place.

Letting Andromeda take his hand, Reg squeezed back, desperate for the comfort that was being offered. He was silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to voice everything that had been going on. "I...don't think I'm on the right side any more," he gasped out eventually, the words tripping from his lips. "Merlin, I'm absolutely shit at it. I'm probably the worst Death Eater out there. But my ability, or lack thereof, has nothing to do with this. I just...y'know when something's just not sitting right, like in here," he said, gesturing to his chest. "But I'm marked, they made sure of that as soon as Sirius left. I'm just his replacement, the spare...and I'm fucking awful at everything, and the torture makes me sick...and I just....I don't know what to do."

Regulus let the words hang in the air for a moment, before figuring that he had already gone in with secrets that would kill him if she ever told anyone. "And...I've been seeing someone for a few months now. He's lovely. He's muggle-born."

“We’re family. I’ll always be here.” To her that meant regardless of the past, she would always be there for them. They may have wanted nothing to do with her after the choices she’d made, but it changed nothing for her. “And I’m glad you did reach out.” She made her way over to the couch and sat down, observing her surroundings as she waited for Regulus to return. It was so quiet, she only hoped there wouldn’t be any surprise guests while she was here. She knew how the Black family could be when it came to privacy after all. As he returned, her attention went to him. There was no missing the dark shadows beneath his eyes, he looked exhausted. Haunted perhaps would have been a more apt description, leaving her concerned for his well-being.

Without thought, her hand reached for his, an attempt to reassure and comfort him. “You know whatever’s going on that you can talk to me Reg.” Her eyes searched his, trying to understand what might be going on in that brain of his. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

"Mmm, I just can't stand normal. You intrigue me...and therefore, here we are," he said with a brief wink in Pandora's direction. This arrangement was mutually beneficial, but the moment it ceased to be so Fenrir would simply move on. He was under no false pretences about the other witch - she would marry a pureblood, someone acceptable. Smirking at her affirmation that it was a command, Fenrir stepped closer. "Well then, it appears I have no other choice. I am yours for as long as you need," Fenrir said, looking down at the other witch.

A hand reached out to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and he leaned in to press a teasing kiss to the soft skin of her neck. "I'll try and behave myself for now, but I make no promises," he murmured, knowing it wouldn't be long until they tumbled into his bed. "I don't trust easily, Dora. You know this, darling," his tone held a warning note, but he looked curiously at the clock she'd been working on. He fell silent as she explained the spell, considering his options. Pandora knew he was a wild beast, and it was becoming even more common knowledge amongst the Death Eaters and their allies that Fenrir was building an army for himself. "How long will I be paralysed for? Just until the secret is shared?"

"And it appears you have a thing for odd witches." Pandora retorts softly, her attention remaining on the clock in front of her, though a cheeky grin forms on her lips that he can easily see. It only takes her a second to decide which one she is choosing at his first question. "A command." Said with certainty and confidence, a slight dig at trying to tame the beast that overshadowed her.

"Both." Lately, when they did end up seeing each other, it always did end in pleasure and if Magnus was away for the night. Pandora turns to face Fenrir. "I need you to trust me." Famous last words. "I need to know that what I tied together works." What she was about to ask him, he could easily refuse and she would accept it, or he could help her see if this time, her spell would work. "I need you to pick the clock up, but I'll warn you, it's a paralysing spell and it will also get you to share with me your darkest secret."

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

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

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

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