nervous piece of cardboard

Task 013: Another Life

Reg did not view Order meetings as a reason to dress any different than he otherwise would, often showing up in his full range of glittery or see-through clothing. Today was no exception, though he vaguely regretted the crop top as he stood out in the cold to smoke. He should have stolen on of Gil’s coats before he’d left, but he’d been too vain. Plus, he’d be saving himself a half dozen lectures from Emmeline if she could see that his ribs and hip bones weren’t as bluntly visible as they’d once been. 

Task 009: Unwavering Companions

Sirius shuddered at the very thought. Then again, he could probably blame his mother (or at least Kreacher) for his messy habits. It had become a point of rebellion as important to him as his long hair. “I mostly go for records and furniture patterns that would make Mother Dearest shudder.”

He raised a brow as he listened to Reg explain what he’d been working on. “Um, this is a good debrief then. What the hell are you working on? That’s the kind of information that should probably be shared among the higher ups. I’m flattered to know, but totally out of my element.”

“What I’m doing right now is looking for places an object might be hidden and tracing Voldemort’s past to find out what’s important to him.” Regulus purposely avoided answering exactly what the magic was, hoping that not giving Sirius a word to put to the magic would prevent him from being able to give a coherent explanation to anyone else.

“My dad is a literature professor and he likes old stories. Actually, my dad is the one that used to tell me bedtime stories and his favorite was actually this book called The Hobbit.” Zephyr admitted as he watched the fat cat approach Reg. “Maybe someone with the money to spare? I have no idea what you model types do for fun, so don’t ask me what they’re up to.”

Maybe it was a cultural thing, a different way of raising your kids, but Zephyr was more inclined to think that it was just that Reg’s mother was terrible, that and the way purebloods seemed to have free reign of everything because while there was a lot about his new home that he didn’t understand, Zephyr was aware that purebloods seemed to be the ones funneling money into the Ministry and government officials were frequently bought. “I did not know this. Is it your cousin’s fault they’re spoiled or yours?” Zephyr asked, teasing Reg before taking another sip of his drink and trying to spot the cat he thought was Lyra. “I don’t have a lot of experience with cats.”

“I’ve never heard of The Hobbit,” Reg said absently, running his hand through Polaris’s thick fur. He’d grown up in a house with an enormous library and had read anything he could get his hands on in two languages, but he’d come to realise his parents’ views had blocked off a whole section of the world from him. “We all have the money to spare, or at least anyone I work with does, but that doesn’t make the union unimportant. There are concerns other than money.”

He had run into that sort of thing a few times himself before he had a proper agent, photographers and directors that tried to push too far, but he hadn’t been in Slytherin for nothing. Talking them out of it had never cost him much, but at the time his name had given him powers others hadn’t. “I’d love to say them being spoiled was Gisela’s fault,” Reg smiled, watching Lyra’s grey paws swipe at a toy from under the couch. “But chances were, I would have spoiled them just as much from the beginning. I love cats.”

Sirius snorted at Reg’s admission, finding it more comical than anything else. Only his brother would find it the logical choice to get high in front of one of the most dangerous men in the wizarding world. 

“Runs in the family, I guess,” he snarked back. Sirius raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was more surprised Reg had something going on under the table or that he was behind invited into it. Probably the latter. “Going nowhere seems to be a theme for progress lately. Feel like sharing?”

Regulus smiled hesitantly, feeling more like Sirius’s sibling than he had in a long time. It’d been a long time since they’d talked without it dissolving immediately into hostility, long enough that he hadn’t realised how much he missed his brother.

“Okay, I stand corrected, I do know about that one. I can also name the counterparts for the twelve Greek gods, but I don’t really count that.” He’d known that story before he knew Remus, probably because it had to do with the founding of Rome, but he could also remember his grandmother telling him about Fortuna when he was younger. Still, not really enough to brag about. “Myths are good bedtime stories, but you don’t really remember much when they instantly make you fall asleep.” It worked on him every time. “Are you sure they’re not doing it because they want to? Maybe they want to be underwear models or just embarrass the American?” Zephyr suggested, not wanting to think that that they were just so daft that they didn’t learn.

“Sounds like trying to make her happy was just a recipe for making yourself miserable. No one should have parents like that.” No matter how much he loved his own parents, Zephyr knew he was lucky and that it wasn’t normal for everyone to get along with their family the way he did. Part of Zephyr hoped that Sirius hadn’t known about what happened when Regulus failed because that meant he would have intentionally abandoned Reg to her, but from what Zephyr knew of Sirius, it seemed impossible that he wouldn’t know. Annoyed with the entire thought process, Zephyr frowned and with a flick of his wrist, three letters flew into the fire at once, flames licking upwards and illuminating the grate in shades of orange. “No one’s rushing you, but you deserve to get out from under the weight of your family,” He said, reaching up to pet at Regulus’ hair.

“Merlin, I don’t know if I could name all the counterparts anymore. Probably most of them, but...” Reg trailed off, reaching over to pet a cat that had ventured close. Polaris, his big fat orange tabby. “I take it you’re a big fan of the old myths?” He asked absently, trying to lure Polaris into sitting on his lap. “Oh, there’s extra pay and union considerations for that kind of shoot. I don’t take my clothes off unless someone’s spoken to my agent about it-- I’m not sure what kind of person cares enough about embarrassing Americans to forgo the extra money.”

He shrugged at Zephyr’s comments, more out of a lack of knowing how else to respond than anything else. “No one should, but it’s more common here than people like to think. I’d say the Ministry should do something about it, but Merlin knows it’s Ministry officials that are doing it in the first place.” Or people who’d merely bought off half the government, like his late father. Watching the letters go up in flames made him feel an odd kind of sad resolution, but he couldn’t help but smile when Polaris finally did jump up on his lap. “Not all family memories are bad-- Polaris and Lyra used to be my cousin’s cats, y’know?”

Poor little traumatized Regulus. It wasn’t Alaric’s fucking fault that Gisela was dead (Unless Ari really had killed Gisela to get him out of the marriage, but Alaric had never asked) and besides, it wasn’t like anyone was forcing him to drown his sorrows in alcohol, it wasn’t like that would make anything better (which didn’t stop Alaric himself from trying it from time to time).

“Dear me, do allow me to apologize.” He said slowly, tone absolutely flat. “Except wait, I didn’t send her body to your, nor did I send you to find her body. I didn’t make you go anywhere, so what’s your problem? The fact that you were exposed to the messy side of the war without anyone getting your mother’s approval first? Or did you just not get enough sympathy out of it because too many people were worried how it might impact Delilah, her sister. Merlin forbid that we forget that everything is about you.”

Regulus put his wine glass back down on the table, slowly turning to face Alaric again. He drew his wand, pointing it straight at Alaric’s chest. “I know damn well more about the messy side of war than you ever will-- I mean, what even are you without your psycho sibling to hide behind?” He took a step closer, so that his wand was almost touching Alaric’s chest. “Nothing, because you never had to be. Everything was fucking handed to you, and it still wasn’t good enough, was it?” 

He shook back his sleeve, showing the dark snake and skull that was forever etched into his skin. “You know what this is? This is what happens when you don’t get to be the one that goes and hides in a fucking greenhouse. This is what happens when you try to fucking protect someone-- I got this because if I hadn’t, then Narcissa and Gisela and Delilah would have. Don’t accuse me of being fucking selfish, not from your fucking glass house.”