Phineas Allaric Black

♚ Phineas Black II 

♚ 25 years old / Wizard / Pureblood

♚ FC: Henry Cavill

Phineas doesn’t share much in common other than his name with his stern father that’s the Hogwarts headmaster. Phineas is an adrenaline junkie that loves to travel and go on expeditions for rare artifacts. While usually larger-than-life confident, Phineas has been introverted since his spring trip to South America. He never even bragged to his siblings about his latest saga in the wild. Currently, he is home for the summer to select a future wife. It is Phineas turn to produce an heir, but he hates the idea of routine which will come along with marriage. It already seems like this will be a long summer for him.

SECRETS: 

Advocate for The Dark Arts, because it gives him a rush of excitement to practice dangerous spells, but has never used any with malicious intent.

The only family member that knows about Sirius’ quest for immortality and it worries him.

Started to develop feelings for a Muggle in South America, but fled the continent before it got too serious.

Beginning to doubt his family’s views on Muggles, maybe they are all not worthless, filthy and want to harm wizards.

Considerably leas wealthy than most of his family members since he remains unmarried and therefore has no access to the Black’s family vault.

SHIPS: Chemistry.

ENDGAME: Open ship and sexual orientation. Phineas’ canon fate is to get burned off the family tree for “supporting Muggle rights”.

PHINEAS BLACK IS TAKEN

She had only been there perhaps several moments or so before she heard her name, and turned to see Phineas a small distance away- what a pleasure. Although she had wanted some time alone to think, Hesper suddenly felt a wave of comfort knowing with Phineas by her side, there would not be the risk of nosy onlookers gossiping about her decision to stroll alone. She brought a hand above her eyes, to shield them from the sun so she could get a proper glimpse of him. “Mr. Black?”

“Phineas.” She smiled as she waited patiently for him to come to speaking distance, clasping her hands together. Hesper tilted her head to the side, enthused by his compliment and his delightful pet name. “Very well, I hope this is the same for you also. I’m afraid it has been so long since I last had the pleasure to speak to you, I’m not sure how life has been treating you.” 

"Life is pleasant, Sister. I've retained the freedom I'm sure you've noticed that I enjoy, as I've also enjoyed my family this season--what little I've seen of you. I certainly agree--it has been far too long."

Some people liked to call Harvey Ridgebit a reckless individual. He didn’t exactly prove them wrong with his complete lack of poise and puppy-like eagerness to jump into dangerous, life-threatening situations. And he sensed one such situation right now, a face-off with the ever elusive and slightly threatening Phineas Black. Just like dealing with a threatened dragon, he thought, I must show no weakness or he will pounce.

And just that quickly, he could feel the determination in his chest harden, and he straightened his shoulders purposefully, making his posture grow to its full stature; meeting the other man’s curious eyes. 

“My jobs do take me all over the world. I have been as far as Australia, even having visited places such as Araby, and each time I bring back a new trade, as well as some interesting souvenirs. See? Those are Opaleye scales I gave to Gladys once.” He points to the window where the scales hang artfully, throwing colored light into the shelf of the window.

Phineas nodded politely as Harvey summarized some of his travels, and he turned his attention occasionally to different brooms on display to show an appropriate level of disinterest. One could not, after all, be too riveted by the stories of an inferior person.

As soon as Gladys' name surfaced, Phineas' eyes snapped to the scales. They were gorgeous, clearly authentic, and Phineas had the overwhelming urge to smash them over Harvey's head. "They are exquisite," he said, crossing the room to examine the scales. "This is certainly a gift given to a person one values quite highly." He kept his voice even--years from practice as his father's son--as he spoke, though he felt his focus threatening to slip.

He knew that Gladys was growing closer to this Harvey person, but how close had they gotten? Was Harvey becoming her new confidant? Were they--horror of horrors--intimate? Phineas wished he could imagine that Gladys had better taste, but Harvey was deliciously good looking. Perhaps it was simply the desire to rip him apart, but Phineas was finding the man increasingly more attractive.

Still, that did not mean he was good enough for Gladys. Nor did it mean he had any business here at all.

For a moment, there was nothing but a distant distracted intrigue. It was so visceral. Perhaps this was what Sirius craved, the pinnacle of his seeking of sensations of all kinds; perhaps pain might let him escape his bindings and float away.

Except that pain hurt. Sirius had noticed how the years of travel and adventure had made of Phineas a rather stronger man than was generally acceptable or desired, in these times, and at this social standing; and he brought all he had to bear on this violence. But Sirius was not weak. Trapped by his brother’s legs, and in an agony which increased by the second, he was perhaps not at his very best, but he was not weak. He drew his hand back and drove the heel of his hand into Phineas’s nose. Perhaps it was not broke, but he reeled back enough for Sirius to get to his knees, preparing for what came next.

It was unlike Sirius, he thought, to not fight back. He was, as Phineas had just seen, not a passive man. So why was he hesitating?

Regardless of the reason, Phineas ignored the throbbing pain caused from a palm to the face, focused fire down his arm to his fist, stepped toward Sirius, and punched him in the gut. The already torn and stained fabric of his shirt smoldered, but the moisture from the sweat and blood snuffed the flame out. He attempted a second swing at his brother's head, but due to exhaustion (and perhaps predictability), Sirius caught his arm and twisted it backwards. Anticipating an attack, Phineas wrenched his arm away, stepped back, and launched the fire in his palm at Sirius.

Antonius did his best to not react to the mention of Gladys. He was starting to believe that everyone in the bloody town was acquainted with her. His left hand went to loosen the cravat around his neck. The idea of commitment to any woman gave him a feeling of suffocation. He couldn’t help it. “I am only financing the broom. It is the best in the market and I will make a profit from it.” He said shrugging softly. “Surely, you of all people, could not have fallen for others’ foolish suspicions of us courting?” He nudged Phineas should in jest. Well, the topic was absurd. “You can only imagine your brother’s face upon learning of the rumor.” Antonius didn’t have to say Sirius. Phineas would automatically know which brother he was talking about.

“The Malfoy family gets on as well as yours. Thanks to Merlin.” Antonius replied without much emotion. There were no deaths, no marriages, nothing to report on. “What can one say about family, we can’t call them a burden because we only have the one. But, I, as well as you know that is a particularly -trying- time of year.” When Antonius looked up from the table, as if on cue, a few ladies sitting to the right of them smiled over at them. It was rather forward of them, no ladies in their society would be seen at this pub nor at this hour for that matter. 

"As you said, the notion is foolish. I know from Miss Boothby herself that your relationship is entirely professional. So you've one less person's foolish gossip to contend with."

He ignored the reference to Sirius and the apparent dig toward Gladys as Antonius spoke vaguely of his family and then of the familiar burden of marriage. Phineas followed his gaze to a collection of women at a nearby table, and as he saw Antonius finish off his drink, he realized that he knew these burdens exactly.

Phineas finished his drink as well and stood. "I agree wholeheartedly. Allow me."

The desire for freedom aside, Phineas knew why he wasn't married. But he'd yet to learn why Antonius had held out. He was, after all, rich and incredibly attractive, and each of the women at the adjacent table was clearly prepared to vie for a chance at him. Any woman would, really (Gladys excepted, of course, though Phineas found himself wondering at why).

The interest vanished as Phineas continued to speak. How dare he? How dare he speak of Hesper in that way? He had no idea – no concept of how their marriage worked – or didn’t.

“My penis -” Sirius stressed the word, looking pointedly at the bulge in Phineas’s trousers, which he was utterly failing to conceal “- could not be of less interest to my wife. She has an unnatural aversion to revelries of the flesh. Anything that steers me from her bed gives her great happiness, though she certainly has no idea precisely what keeps me from it. And you, dear brother, shall not be the one to tell her. She is not my wife; she is the mother to my sons, an adornment on my arm at society events. Nothing more; nothing less.” He would not humiliate himself further by telling Phineas any chance he had to make their marriage a real one was a chance Sirius would gladly have taken.

He had said too much, shaking with rage.

Of course, he was spot on. Phineas had wanted Josiah, but nothing had come of it. That fact was mildly irritating, though tolerable, and the attention he received elsewhere was enough to satisfy him. He and Josiah were exceptional at sharing the same home, and Phineas was grateful for that.

But now his brother was flaunting his conquest, and worse, implying that Phineas was weak. Or undesirable. Or both.

He was neither, and Sirius needed to realize that.

His left fist connected with Sirius' temple first. His right quickly followed and crushed Sirius' nose. Sirius fell to the floor, blood streaming down his face and staining his shirt, and Phineas flexed his bloody knuckles. Before he could react, Phineas pounced, straddling Sirius and striking his head repeatedly, splattering blood and spit across the floor. As Sirius resisted, he pressed himself harder against Sirius' lap and pulled his knees in tighter against his side.

“Really, brother, you may be a pauper, but I thought you had some class.”

He held Phineas’s eyes for a long moment, and then gave an indifferent shrug. With barely a glance at Josiah, still curved over the couch like an indecent statue, he leaned to collect his underwear, stepped into them. His trousers he collected from the chair they lay across, and donned them as well, zipping them closed and fastening the button. His shirt could wait. “Are you really so shocked, Phineas? There’s not a married man of social standing who doesn’t indulge in illicit affairs. Perhaps you would be less scandalized if I installed a mistress in a fancy hotel somewhere in Muggle London?”

He wondered if Phineas had any idea how close he had come to death, this night. Sirius’s lips had begun to close over a killing curse, and Phineas could perhaps take comfort in the fact that he was still alive. Perhaps Sirius would tell him.

No.

Sirius crossed the room to a small bar, and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey. Crystal glassware, not of a particularly good quality, but Phineas could blame only himself.

Sirius took a sip, nodding at Josiah, still stupefied as he lay. The sight was almost comical, though Sirius would have preferred he was laid out on a table in his own laboratory. Josiah’s erection would not soon flag. Sirius took another sip and raised his eyebrows at his brother, who was still glaring furiously. “He’s well-prepared and waiting. Perhaps you’d like to take your turn? Your prudishness grows very dull, Phineas. You might find you like it.”

The tightness in his trousers increased as he studied Josiah's body. Though the bulge was certainly noticeable, attempting to hide it would merely add credence to Sirius' words. And of all the things Phineas was, prudish was not among them. But the way Sirius was dangling Josiah in front of him was cruel, and the way he was asserting authority he only imagined he had was insulting.

"Do not mistake my disgust for you for prudishness, brother," Phineas said, moving closer to Sirius. "I would gladly indulge in your penchant for men and women alongside you. After all, I've no wife. My body is my own. But you? My disgust is that you believe your leisure time truly is your own." He paused to watch understanding flicker in his brother's eyes. "As it is, Hesper owns you. Your penis, brother, is hers."

Though he did hate the idea of his brother's infidelity, Phineas would have been far less appalled had he found Sirius atop another man. Anyone, from a homeless Muggle to the Minister himself, would do. But not Josiah. This was entirely too personal, and the way Sirius treated him with such disregard...

Perhaps you'd like to take your turn...?

"You stand here exposed, aroused, and you dare talk of class? My finances are of no consequence here. Nor are yours. This behavior is beneath the Muggles you hate so much. You are treating a good man like a plaything of yours. No one deserves such treatment." He paused to study his brother's face, so attractive, so proper, yet so cruel. Was this really the man he'd idolized for so long?

Harvey struggled not to squirm from the too casually phrased question, turning slightly away from Phineas. Questions about his past were not something he enjoyed; it usually led to closed business contracts or open disgust. He scrambled internally at high-speed trying to come up with a suitable answer.

"I've enough money from my family's estate that I spend my time elsewhere. Traveling is preferable to employment." It was, of course, a terribly arrogant thing to say, but Phineas found the arrogance bleeding out automatically.

"Odd jobs, you say? I've heard of your adventures. Pray, tell me, are these odd jobs anywhere near as exciting? Surely one such as yourself would get bored easily. I know the curse of tedium well."

If it felt to Harvey like an interrogation, then he was perceptive enough. While Phineas was attempting to sound casual enough, he wouldn't regret if Harvey felt uncomfortable.

“Brothers,” he said, with a bright, false smile. “I will have to ask you to excuse me.” Both nodded, and prepared to stand; yes, the mood had been broken. Another time, they would try again, and perhaps Sirius wouldn’t spoil it with questions of marriage. Though it was a subject he would need to return to. He placed a Galleon on the table, more than enough to cover all of their drinks, and shrugged his jacket on, following his brothers outside.

It had been too many days in a row with nothing to occupy Sirius but the banalities of his loveless marriage and a social schedule which bordered on torture. Sirius apparated into London, a dark alley, and, donning his hat, he stepped out into the street. He had heard rumours of a bar where men like him liked to meet, and wanted to see it for himself. No doubt, it would be small, and probably vile, but that meant that no one would see him. No one who counted, anyway. And if they did? He’d quickly dispose of that problem.

Sirius needed a warm body. Needed to slake his lust, and his appetite for death. He wanted to hold a heart in his hands. He needed to spill his seed into someone who was groaning for it. He’d use his own name, needed to hear it choked out of someone’s mouth.

The public house was nicer than he’d imagined, far nicer than the outside suggested. It was warm inside, and around the room, men sat in twos and threes, speaking in hushed tones.

At a low armchair sat a man alone. Blond with an open face and kind eyes, a greenish grey. Very nice eyes. Sirius thought he might bottle them. But not yet. They made eye contact, and the man’s face was both cautious and optimistic, when he nodded to Sirius, vaguely waving at the armchair nearby.

Well. Pleasantries shouldn’t take long. That was good to know.

Sirius ordered a glass of best Scotch at the bar, and sat in the armchair, smiling. One of the smiles he used to disorient and disarm, eyes sparkling, trustworthy. It was a rare event for someone to meet that smile with distrust. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Sirius.”

“Josiah,” the man offered, and he shook Sirius’s hand briefly. A good, strong handshake, though his expression was somewhat submissive. That boded well. And no surnames; that tended to suggest they were both, in fact, in this bar for the same reason.

“You’re married,” Josiah blurted suddenly.

Sirius tamped down a flash of irritation. “Indeed I am. I have a family to run; marriage is the least pleasurable aspect of that particular job.” Josiah looked oddly disappointed. The bartender brought Sirius’s drink, and he sipped it, once again disliking the smoky taste.

If only Muggle bars sold firewhiskey.

“I’m not sure what you mean about running a family,” Josiah said, with the trace of an apology in his voice.

“I envy you that,” Sirius said, with a friendly laugh. “I surely envy you that. Money, children, my siblings… all a great deal of work, and no one notices unless it goes wrong.” He finished his drink. “I didn’t come here tonight to talk about my family.”

Josiah swallowed; Sirius could see it in his throat. “I live close by,” he admitted, and Sirius gave another warm smile, good man, you are catching on.

“Then shall we?” Sirius asked.

Josiah hesitated, blushing a little. “I don’t often…”

“I am quite trustworthy, I can assure you of that.” Briefly, Sirius considered using a touch of occlumency; he had some skill with it, but it was a point of pride that he never brought anyone unwillingly to the bed. “I am entirely discreet, and I have no interest in announcing your proclivities to your neighbours. And I assure you…” He smiled again, just a little, eyes wide and blue. “I will make this a memorable night for you.”

Josiah gave an urgent, stuttering nod, and Sirius stood, pulling coins from his purse, and leaving them on the table.

—

They spoke little, on the short walk, though to ease Josiah’s nerves, Sirius commented on the warm weather, on the smell of jasmine. Folgate Street. Very nice, the shiny black door, the red shutters. With a shaking hand Josiah unlocked the door, and ushered Sirius inside. Sirius looked around, and was pleased with what he saw; the open fireplace, which would be very nice in the Winter; leather couches that looked well made. He was not a poor man. Vaguely, Sirius wondered if Phineas’s home was as nice.

“Very pleasant,” Sirius said. To his surprise, there were a number of magical artifacts in the room. There was a brief moment of panic. “You’re a wizard?” he asked. With a guilty look, Josiah nodded.

“I won’t tell anybody,” he said. “I should have admitted I knew you on sight, but I wanted…” Well, no, he wouldn’t tell anyone, would he? So Sirius supposed it made no difference, in the end. Josiah looked distinctly uncomfortable, as though he was just now wondering if this had been a bad idea.

Well, Sirius decided to ease his fears. He took a step, two, closer to Josiah, cupped his jaw in one hand, and leaned to kiss him. Gently, for a moment, nudging Josiah’s mouth open, slipping his tongue between Josiah’s lips. Josiah responded with a degree of urgency, relieved, Sirius supposed, that he was finding he had not been brought here under false pretences. His hands quickly found Sirius’s waist, and Sirius began to feel himself respond.

Well, if there weren’t be any unnecessary pleasantries, all the better. “Do you live alone?” he said, against Josiah’s mouth.

“I have a flatmate,” he admitted, “But I am not expecting him home for several hours.”

Sirius thought for a moment. He liked the leather couch, the red blanket folded neatly on the armrest, and he strongly desired to bend dear Josiah over it, right there in the sitting room.

Well. It was a risk, certainly, but one he was prepared to take, he decided, and should the flatmate return home unexpectedly Sirius would end his life very quickly indeed. Not a problem. So he slipped Josiah’s jacket from his shoulders and draped it over a nearby chair.

Despite the swirl of conflicting emotions, Phineas focused his gaze on his housemate and on the parts of him he'd dreamed of exploring. An initial attraction had given way to friendship and, quickly, to interest, but nothing had gone beyond harmless (and often frustrating) flirtation. Phineas accepted this, but to see him so exposed...and to Sirius, no less...

Feelings from childhood returned to assault him further. Of course Josiah had wanted Sirius. He was the desirable brother. Phineas had only ever been blessed to be touched by his shadow. They all had.

These thoughts would have consumed him, but Sirius' voice returned him to the moment. Though initially confusing, his words were, on further inspection, infuriating. The ease with which he always spoke was, at once, less admirable. The confidence Phineas had always envied of his brother seemed no more than arrogance.

He balled his fist tighter, digging his nails into his flesh.

"No, brother. You've nothing left to conceal at this point. Why feign decency? You've clearly no regard for those around you."

His heart was racing, and though he tried to resist, his eyes kept darting back to Josiah, his body still excited from his encounter with Sirius.

Have they been together long? he wondered, considering then the times he'd been away from home. Had Sirius been in his house without him knowing? Had Josiah been keeping this secret from him?

Could he consider it betrayal when neither owed fidelity to him?

"What of Hesper?" he asked then, realizing that Sirius had vowed faithfulness to another. "You espoused duty at length when I revealed I wasn't to marry. What of your duty to your family? Have you forgotten it entirely?"

Fully prepared to meet whoever was at the door with a smile, his polite air immediately turned into a bright grin when Phineas Black stepped through the door. 

Though they’d never met in person, Harvey had heard many tales about the well-dressed man, and Gladys had only bolstered it, telling him about some of his fantastical sounding adventures. He strode over to him in large steps, taking in his sharp and clever appearance. Surreptitiously, he smoothed a hand over his vest then through his tangled hair, grudgingly intimidated at meeting someone so well-traveled.

As soon as the man introduced himself, Harvey bowed smartly, knowing it was expected in the presence of a pure-blood.  “Good day to you, Mr. Black. I am indeed Harvey Ridegebit. Miss Boothby has told me quite a bit about you, as well. The pleasure is all mine.” 

Attractive men had far too much power, he decided, though he rather did prefer beauty to the alternative.

A handshake? It was very Muggle, something Phineas usually found acceptable--welcome, even--but coming from this man, it was a fault. Had his travels turned him into such a savage?

"Has she now?" he asked. "I do hope she's said nothing too embarrassing. Though of course she is more polite than that."

Oh, Merlin.

Phineas’s eyes. Too knowing. Did he suspect? Could he see blood streaked over Sirius’s face, like a brand? Could he see the bloodlust in Sirius’s eyes?

His simple pleasures. Sirius couldn’t imagine what Phineas’s simple pleasures might be. Did he have some parade of women march through his… lodgings, whatever they might be? Sirius couldn’t help imagining. It seemed unaccountably rude to ask to see Phineas’s home, but he was curious. Was he living in squalor?

He met Phineas’s glance for a moment, though Phineas – either totally unselfconscious, or an extraordinary actor – let his glance drift away quickly.

Sirius adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, and gave a small cough. “The Boothby woman, yes. I keep hearing about those brooms,” Sirius said, hoping against hope that his face no longer betrayed whatever it had. “And your travels, yes, yes, good to travel. Precisely the sort of thing one can no longer do, when there are children…”

To his own ear, Sirius sounded flustered. Deflection, once more, he thought. He gave a bright smile, perhaps broader than usual, and nodded sharply. “I can be a terrible bore,” he said, and hoped it sounded rakish and self-deprecating. “Harassing you two about marrying. As the eldest I suppose I sometimes push too hard. And here we are, simply enjoying a glass of firewhiskey. Let us speak to more of such nonsense.”

Arcturus sat back as Phineas and Sirius began to talk amongst themselves. He felt a little confused about the conversation that they were having and so he simply did not interject with anything to add, he simply listened. He frowned as they both spoke and he realised that there were two ways that he would go in his life, he could choose not to marry as Phineas had and this would be how his spent or he could choose to marry as Sirius had. He could not understand how there was not a third option to choose, he wished that he could. He sighed inwardly, trying to unscramble his own thoughts. 

"So, this nonsense of marriage aside, what is there left of this summer? Certainly there is some event that we three--and Belvina and Cygnus and Hesper, of course--are expected at. I've heard nothing of late, and it seems the summer has grown increasingly dull. I hadn't expected such things from London."

"I want to know how you are," Phineas answered as he handed his brother his treat. "I do hope I am wrong, but with your apprehension to discuss marriage, I can only assume there is substance to this story."

"Story." Perhaps it was the wrong word. Stories were what the papers spun. Stories were fictional. Stories were at the heart of gossip.

Antonius, always the introvert, did not want to deal with another scandal from an enthusiastic eavesdropper if they continued to converse at the bar. Walking over to the booth with a new drink in hand, he looked over at Phineas in wonder. “Is this surely the first time I have seen you since your travels abroad?” He asked with a head tilt. “Remind me again, where was it you ran off to this time? Of Latin origin?”

"South America," Phineas answered. "Peru and Argentina mostly, and typically the more remote regions. Breathtaking, really. You must visit if time and commitments allow."

Of course they wouldn't, even for a wizard who could relocate at will. Someone like Antonius Malfoy was certainly as busy as Sirius. Though Malfoy did not have a family tying him down. Still, Phineas couldn't imagine him being very able to travel.

"Until the season is over, perhaps longer if there is need of me here. But there are more of the Americas to explore. The northern territories have fascinated me for years, and I'd quite enjoy a visit."

There he went, yammering on about his freedom. But was it any secret that Phineas was very much the exception to his family's rules? Whether Malfoy approved or not, there was no reason to deflect. He wasn't going to be married anytime soon, at least.