REGULUS BLACK

“Isn’t that what always happens at events like this?” Narcissa mused, a little shrug of her shoulders as she looked at her younger cousin. She had to admit that she had noticed that the crowds had seemed to have thinned out. She was kind of curious to see why, but she also didn’t care too much. She was actually starting to wonder if she could sneak off herself. They could totally blame it on being newly weds and wanting to spend time together. Of course the real reason was because she just did not want to be at all really.

“I mean if that is the reason she is mad you all should be seeing as none of you were present.” Narcissa mused with a shrug. She really did not care what they thought. “Anyway….” She mused, waving her hand. “We are going to be having a big wedding. So you can all come to that.”

..

“I don’t care about your wedding, Narcissa. You know I hate...” He wrinkles his nose up for the last word, “events.” He didn’t know how to explain why he was a little bit upset with Narcissa. Not because she hadn’t made him go to some stuffy affair. By all means, if she wanted to elope, that was fine by him. But it was more about the fact that she... hadn’t told him. They were family, and he was more sensitive than most to the feeling of being left out of things. Still, he liked Narcissa too much to be mean to her about it, to lash out at her in the way he did inside of his own head sometimes. “You’re family. Everyone will get over it and forget soon. Even Bella. The next scandal is right around the corner.” 

He glances around the gardens again, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know why he was so worried about the thinning crowd. It was just a bad feeling. Something in his stomach that that wriggled and protested that something was very wrong here. “With our luck, she’ll find out about the other thing and skin us all alive.”  He murmured quietly so only Narcissa could hear. “And then we’ll all be suffering together.” 

Bella feels as if she’d being a little too careless with her appearance, a voice that sounds like her mother reminding her that she is to look nothing less than perfection at all times. “You’re supposed to be encourage me not to harm precious Cissa’s new husband, not encouraging it.” There’s an almost childlike urge to do something ridiculous like poke Regulus’ nose like she used when they were little. But they’re grown and she doubts Regulus would appreciate it anymore.

Bella lets out a small, humorless, laugh at Regulus’ apparent distaste of Andromeda. It still hurts, thinking about the sister that was, but she’d always been able to take pain and make it into something else entirely. “I can’t imagine why you’d even remember her at all, but apparently some in this family have.” She drops her glass on a nearby table, done with pretending she was going to drink it in favor of gently placing a hand on Regulus’ arm. “Careful, cousin. Someone might think you’re acting anything less than perfect. Although you’re more likely to get away with pouting as the youngest.” There’s a careful glace around to make sure nobody is paying them too much attention before she’s leaning in slightly. “I can’t imagine what Father will do hearing Narcissa is still in contact with people we shouldn’t be. Especially in times like these.”

–

Regulus quirks an eyebrow at his cousin. Bellatrix should know better than to come to him for messages of restraint against violence. But maybe it’s fair. He is so tightly coiled, so perfectly restrained, with every emotion bottled up. But anger... that’s always come out easier than most. It’s the Black Family way. They lash out like vicious and venomous creatures. They were all snakes, each and every one of them. Even Sirius, though he liked to pretend that he wasn’t. “No, please. Don’t stab Lucius. I would so, so, so hate to see it happen. It would definitely not make my day. I beg of you, restrain yourself.” He says, a long drawl, utterly sarcastic with every word. He’s practically rolling his eyes as he says it. 

Her humourless laugh is a familiar sound. Andromeda was a sore topic for all of them. Or, at least, for him and Bellatrix. They held grudges in such a special and particular way. Bitterness was a loyal bedfellow for them. “More than remembering her, evidently.” It was a sore topic, yes. And Regulus could understand why Sirius might be close to Andromeda. He could even understand that Narcissa and Andromeda were close, and that their membership in the Orpheus Society gave them more opportunity to grow even closer. But... but Andromeda had abandoned them. She had left them behind and never looked back for him. He didn’t forgive her for that. He never would. 

He gives her a sharp look at the comment, but it isn’t a harsh one. Almost playful, in the way they have. “You’ve clearly never heard my mother’s opinion about the unseemliness of pouting, then. I do believe that is a lesson we were taught very young.” He can feel the sting of that lesson settling in still, in the back of his mind. And he laughs then, a quick and surprised thing, before he schools his expression back down. “That would be almost too cruel. Father never did like it when we stepped out of line.” A smirk. “And better yet, he’d have some kind of bill up before the Wizengamot forbidding the presence of blood traitors at weddings before the end of the week.” 

***

Sirius very rarely ever wished that he had chosen to go to one of the dull Pureblood party’s. But, as he stood looking at what had been Bluebell Cottage he couldn’t help but, just for a moment, with that he had opted for whatever show Riddle was putting on than this. He had made his excuses about why he couldn’t go. He just had too much on at work and he didn’t want to be distracted around the Dark Lord, blah blah blah. He hated it. The act he had to play for his parents. But, he had wanted to celebrate his friends birthday. A perfectly normal thing to do in a place he had thought was safe.

But no, someone had told them.

He would like to say that he was angry. That he wanted to hunt down whoever had betrayed them and get answers from them. But, part of him was just…disappointed that he wasn’t surprised. Nothing was simple anymore. There was no straight right and wrong path and for many the lines were blurred. But that didn’t make the destruction any harder to take. Seeing his friends in pain hurt his soul. He didn’t even know where Remus was which was starting to cause him to panic. He watched as people were taken away injured. More so trying to salvage what was left of the historic house. It was just…a lot. And once he had paused to catch his breath he had found himself froze to the spot. Wrong party indeed.

Regulus suddenly appearing at his side was enough to snap him out of his dazed thoughts, however.

Looking at his brother the corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk just for a second when he saw the look on his face. Any other time perhaps he would have teased him for that. But even he couldn’t bring himself to do that in this situation. “Evidently. I hate to be a disappointment but it’ll take a little more than this to eventually kill me.” A dry chuckle followed his words. A poor attempt to keep his humour to mask just how shaken he was. Some habits he just would never shake.

“What are you doing here?”

Sirius is there, alive and breathing – and the quirk of his lips is proof of that, the same damnable smirk that has driven Regulus crazy for his entire life. He’s so relieved he aches, so relieved that he wants with an intense ferocity to pull Sirius into a hug. It’s an urge that catches him off guard, and one he has to tamp down on. He would never hear the end of it. Their family has never been the hugging kind. He wonders if it would feel good. He’s sure that Sirius has gotten plenty of hugs anyway, from the soft people he surrounds himself with, from Remus and James and Peter and the rest of their little friends. He almost takes a step away to remove himself physically from the wanting of it, but he stands fast instead. 

There’s a million different honest things that Regulus could say to Sirius now. I’m here because I was worried about you, he could say. I’m here because for a second I thought you might be dead, and I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I think that might have killed me too. I’m here because I love you. He flounders with the ideas, chokes on them, and forces himself to school his face back into the bland mask he usually wears. He’s always been too sentimental, but no one will ever know it, because the feelings taste like a burning acid in his throat and if he let them come out it might kill him. 

He shrugs his shoulders, frozen in it for a second, before he lands on a reason. “I’m here to rouse the masses. On behalf of Aberforth, really. He wants a meeting. As soon as possible. Tomorrow, probably, if we can find a safe place for it. Only we have no idea what we can count as safe anymore.” 

The birds were singing, the alcohol was flowing, and the people were mingling. Regulus feels like the entire day is some new kind of torture method –– and maybe it is. The Dark Lord might be taking notes on how to best make the purebloods who are under his thumb sweat and squirm. He probably loves the power that he has over them. He heaves out a long sigh at the thought of it. He’s just debating if he can slip away from the crowd for a few moments to catch is breath and find his centre again when he sees her in the crowd. 

It’s become something of a tradition for Regulus to find Anastasia Nott in the middle of these society events. And he does suppose that they’re a good spot for the two of them to chat and not be noticed. People’s eyes glaze over sometimes at things like this. They see a man and a woman talking and assume it’s going to be about the weather, or how lovely the drinks are, or how inspiring Minister Riddle is. So he takes two drinks and approaches her, slips one into her hand with a practiced grace. 

“Miss Nott, you look as lovely as ever.” He says, for the benefit of anyone around them who might have had their interest raised. “How I regret that there isn’t any dancing yet, leaving me unable to sweep you off your feet.” 

"I can’t find Bellatrix.” He says, appearing beside Narcissa almost like a ghost. Regulus has always moved quietly when he wanted to. He’s good at being invisible. The dimmest and least noticeable of all the stars in their constellation, the worst at mingling during these high society events. Well, maybe second worst, if you counted Sirius. 

He probably could have led with something more polite, like a hello. But Narcissa probably wouldn’t expect that from him anymore. He could have offered her a congratulations on her surprising nuptials, but he was sure she had heard enough of that to last her for a lifetime. He spares another glance around, looking for the shock of black hair that can usually be found next to either him or Narcissa during the dull moments of parties. 

“She didn’t leave because she was mad at you, did she? Because I’ll be vexed if she did.” 

status: closed character: regulus/@regulusrab​

“On a scale of one to ten, how angry do you think Narcissa would be if I murdered her new husband?” The question is hurled at her youngest, and favorite, cousin without preamble. Bella had just gotten back to the party from the attack on Bluebell Cottage, her dress a little muddied and torn than it had been when she’d left. But nobody seemed to want to question her about why it was that, the glare she’d thrown in anyone that looked too closely at it deterring most from asking questions. She’d grabbed a glass of something that looked expensive and found the person in the room that she didn’t want to stab on most days.

“Honestly, eloping is one scandal on it’s own. But then to not even invite your family to it?” Bella’s grip tightens on her glass, glancing in Regulus’ direction. She wants to see his reaction to her next question, wondering if there’s been a thing going on within her own family she wasn’t aware of. “Inviting Andromeda and her Muggleborn husband of all people was like a knife in the back, wouldn’t you agree?”

–

Regulus takes the question hurled in his direction in stride. It’s an uncomfortable reminder of how alike he and Bellatrix are –– they do tend to launch into the thick of things with grand statements or sharp questions. He hummed out a soft sound, took a sip of his drink, and took careful note of her dress with a minute flick of his eyes up and down her. A million miles a second his mind moved ; did Bellatrix actually attack Lucius, did Bellatrix have a hookup out hidden in the trees? What didn’t he know today? “Quite angry, I would imagine. But you’re her sister. She would find a way to forgive you eventually.” A shrug of his shoulders. “Husbands are temporary. Blood is forever.” 

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” He says, a sharp drawl. Andromeda was a woman who had been dead to Regulus for a long time. The woman who abandoned him, who first made him feel like he was something unimportant and easy to leave behind. “Oh yes, I think I had a cousin named Andromeda once.” He rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and slams his glass rather unkindly down on a passing tray so he can turn to face Bellatrix more properly. “It’s a disgrace, but I won’t say it to Narcissa’s face. It would be fucking embarrassing if I started pouting about being left out.” 

Its second nature, muscle memory, the way that Regulus can cast his eyes around a room and instantly land on Evan Rosier. Even as children it had been an uncanny talent of his. Even as children, Evan had been one of his closest friends –– one of his only friends, if Regulus was being honest with people. When they were children, and Regulus was still being forced into darling little dresses and pretty little hair ribbons, it had been an unspoken fact of existence that Reg and Evan were going to be together forever. For them it had been a promise of friendship, of understanding, of the fact that Evan was one of the only people who made Regulus feel like a real person. For their parents it had been a promise of marriage, someday, in the future. A power play on both their parts. 

And, oh, how Regulus had thrown a wrench in that plan by becoming the man he was today. 

He’s still comforted, instantly, by the way his eyes instantly lock on to Evan. And he still can’t resist approaching him. In the heat of the spring day and with the smell of blooming flowers everywhere, it feels a little like childhood again. 

“There you are,” He greets, even as his hand is moving to take Evan’s glass and steal a sip from it. “I was beginning to think you had abandoned me to suffer through this whole affair alone.” 

Lucius & Open Riddle House

Maintaining a mask of interest in the party proved more challenging than Lucius anticipated. It was no secret he didn’t like having attention on himself - a fact that had left him seething internally upon realizing there was a plan to toast to him and Narcissa. It explained precisely why his father had seemed so unbothered by the elopement. One step ahead and one-upping the secret keeping to put him face to face with a predicament he couldn’t escape from.

Lucius took a steadying breath and looked out over the garden, gaze occasionally going back to the painting he and Narcissa were given. It felt like a huge weight on his chest, knowing his loyalties were shifting. The painting would have to remain visible in their home - Salazar forbid his father or the Dark Lord (or worse, both) show up unannounced and discover their golden boy wasn’t matching up to expectations.

“A pity,” Lucius exhaled, risking a half-smirk. “He never mentioned if it should go in the bedroom or over the dining room’s mantle.”

.

Regulus fucking hated this, and it was taking a great deal of effort to hide it today. In the warm heat of an unusually warm late spring, Regulus just wanted to peel off his party clothes and throw himself down into bed. Instead he had to pretend he didn’t want to pull out a knife and stab Tom Riddle in the heart with it right in front of everyone. 

“I think it’s more suited to your private study.” He mused, wry. He tilted his head as he looked at the gift. “To show the strength of the man of the house.” 

Regulus’s day had been so dull at the start. The heavy weight of all their many quests needed to be put off so that he could play the part of the perfect child, so that he could be the Regulus who attended parties and smiled politely at anybody who tried to speak to him. It wasn’t every day that Tom Riddle threw a party, and the mark on Regulus’s arm meant that he had to attend. Such fun. He had spent the entire affair wanting to claw his own eyes out, or Riddles, hiding his urges behind a carefully painted mask. 

He should have noticed when most of the other Death Eaters vanished. He should have taken note and realised that something bad was about to happen. And yet, somehow, he’s surprised. Bluebell Cottage, wiped off the map. He’s only ever been there once or twice, but now its gone, and more than one person has been hurt. His heart had leapt straight out of his chest when he heard the news, his stomach churned. He had been dizzy with worry. There were more people at the cottage than usual that day. That stupid girl Mary MacDonald had turned a year older, and since she lived there that meant that so many of her friends had decided to gather. 

His first rational thought was that he had to find Sirius. He had to find Sirius as fast as possible, and make sure that his brother was okay. If anything happened to Sirius... If Regulus lost him, he would have to start burning the world down, and then he would probably be put to death for treason before he could get to the bottom of the Riddle mystery. 

So he looks, half frantic, until Sirius is standing in front of him. Sirius, breathing. The relief is likely obvious on his face before he smooths it out, his breathing still a little rough. 

lily found herself smiling at the unprompted question tossed her way; no prelude or preemptive small talk, just tossed head first into the thick of conversation. and for someone who received what was surely an obsessive amount of training on proper etiquette, his blunt edges never failed to inspire amusement. 

she tilts her head at his words, ”and here I thought you liked me for more then just my brain,” she can’t help but tease. the two of them had sat comfortably at the top of their respective potions classes during their tenure at hogwarts, the quirky professor holding them in high enough regard to grand an invitation to his prestos club. it was perhaps the first common thread that pulled between them, the start of what became a rather precious friendship.

she nudges the door open wide enough for regulus to get through. “come on in,” she leads him into the kitchen and gestures for him to make himself at home. she has a pot of tea already steeping on the counter so it takes no time for her to prepare two cups. “so,” she finds the seat across from the younger black, her elbows propped on the table, hands clasped around her own steaming mug. “what’ve you got for me? it must be good if you’ve come all this way.” 

.

It’s an almost instant wave of comfort, seeing Lily before him. The fire of her hair and the way she seems to take him entirely in stride. Regulus knows he isn’t always the easiest person to deal with. And yet here Lily is, just as she’s alwys been, ready to deal with him and whatever drama he has seen fit to drag into her life. His only real comfort is knowing that no matter what a pain he can be, it can’t be worse than what everyone has to deal with from Sirius. 

Regulus mirrors the tilting of her head and one ups it with a daintily raised eyebrow. “I don’t recall ever saying that I liked you, Evans.” A slow smirk of a smile, because he can’t actually say how relieved he is that Lily was home, that she’s welcoming him in to her life with open arms. “I tolerate you in the hopes that when you take over the world, you’ll treat me with benevolence and let me live my life in peace.”  

He slips inside her flat and glances around it, a curious look before he places himself comfortably at one of the seats next to her little table. She has tea ready, as if she’s anticipated him and the dark cloud of his company. “It’s a little game I’ve made up. Name the potion that Rgeulus is clueless about.” He angles himself towards her and takes a sip of his tea. “It’s translucent green. It doesn’t taste of much but it causes the drinker untold agony – more pain than you could ever imagine, complete and utter hoplelessness. Or, so I’m told.”

Where: Delirium Bar

Who: Alecto and Regulus  (  @regulusrab​   )

“Look what the cat dragged in” Alecto mused, a little smirk on her lips as she watched the youngest Black brother wonder up to the bar. It was not unusual to see Alecto up behind the bar, but she did tend to be picky about who she served. Regulus of course tended to make the cut. He was a Black after all. But, it was more that she wanted to get the gossip, and merlin knew the Blacks were a fine source of gossip. They did, after all, have a lot of scandal. Alecto found it all very interesting.

“i can’t remember the last time you were here.” And she really didn’t know whether to find that offended or not. Of course, she didn’t care that much. She had enough people coming to her bar, that it didn’t really matter if anyone didn’t come. “Firewhisky?”

.

Regulus liked Delirium more than he would admit it outloud. Alecto Carrow was a woman who could be terrifying in the right light, but no one could say that she hadn’t put together a damn good bar. It was a good place to go when he wanted to forget a little bit, when he wanted to let the anxiety of the outside world fade away. Unlike the many clubs that littered London, where Regulus felt ill-at-ease and out of place, in Delirium he could just be. He knew he should probably avoid it these days, with everything going on in the world. But no one could blame him for wanting to sit and have a stiff drink at the bar. So he settles there, and glances up only when Alecto comes to greet him. 

“You know me. I spend all my time picking up after everyone else. All fun and no play.” A tilt of his head in greeting. It was true that he didn’t come here as often as some other people did. “Yes, Firewhiskey, please. And make it a double.” He let his voice drawl a little, let his chin rest on his hand. 

Regulus had never intended to like Lily Evans. By all rights he should have hated her guts. But he could never quite bring him to no matter how hard he tried. Because she was beautiful, of course. But more than that because she was feirce and tough and a genius. They were Slughorns favourites, but Lily was the one who had earned it all on her own. For all that Regulus was good at potions, for all that he tried the hardest in his year and got the best grades, for all that he loved the art of it with every inch of his being... no one could ever call him a natural talent at anything, even that. And he knew, he knew, that Horace Slughorn only really payed him attention because he was a Black. That shiney little surname that marked him as royal and as monster all in one breath. The Black’s were made of starlight and they had the divine right of kings. Slughorn wanted to collect them, and Regulus would always just be a consolation prize. 

He had never intended to like Lily, or love her, but she seemed to have crawled under his skin like an insidious parasite, and now he couldn’t get her out. Today he has a frantic energy under his skin, because soon he’s going to go into a cave and hunt down a horcrux, and he knows it’s going to hurt. He’s frayed at the edges, the skin around his nails bloody again from picking and biting and worrying, a crack in his otherwise perfect glossy Regulus Black shaped armor. He can see the damage when he brings his fist up to knock on her door. And when she finally comes to it and answers, he doesn’t bother with hellos. Saying hi isn’t the Regulus Black way. He tends to launch into conversations the same way he launches into attacks, suddenly and without very clear motivation. 

“I have a question for you, Evans. Think of it as a return to our academic pursuits. One of Slughorns pop quizzes. Have you got time to talk for a while?” 

“I usually do,” She was glad that she had run into Regulus. For one, he was good company, but another perk was people would be less willing to interrupt them considering Regulus was the host. If she couldn’t find Evan to distract Mr. Flint then she was glad that it was Regulus that she had found. It was also just easier to talk to someone that was basically family. Family were some of the only people that Estelle truly trusted. And Regulus and his brother just happened to fall under that umbrella, it appeared. If Cissa trusted them then she could trust them too. “I’m glad that we have that settled. Since we’ve decided that we’re family, I have to say you did a fabulous job planning tonight’s festivities.”

It was nice to know that someone would be on her side, should her father push for a marriage to Mr. Flint. Realistically, Stella wasn’t sure that Regulus Black would be able to put a stop to it, but it was certainly a nice thought. “I could do so much better then him. I think he knows that too,” she admitted with an eye roll. She wanted to believe that Evan wouldn’t stand for it either, especially if he knew that it would make her miserable, but their father was…not a man that you crossed. “Well, if it came down to it, I feel like I have some very competent people in my corner and for that I appreciate that. Let’s hope nobody has to duel in my honor. I would feel terrible if someone got hurt.”

.

He couldn’t help but grace Estelle with what was almost a genuine smile. Those were rare things on his face, something that had to be summoned up from great depths. He was fond of her despite himself. He couldn’t help but think that in another world he would have been just like her. Someone with so little power in the world, but all the pressure heaped atop her shoulders. She was dealing with the consequences of everybody else’s decisions he imagined. A woman in a world that expected them to be perfect. And with the Rosier’s furious that Andromeda, someone who they had been forced to call family in the first place, had disgraced them all by running off with a man like Ted Tonks. The pressure to make the right decisions, to marry well and be a respectable member of society, must have been more heavy to Estelle than they were to the other ladies that flitted around them on the dance floor right now. 

He liked her, was the terrible thing. The way she rolled her eyes. The way she agreed with his statement that she was right. She was funny. She was something bright in the otherwise gloomy night. The only sadness here was in the fact that he knew her loyalties lay more with Riddle and the status quo than he would have liked. She might have been happier in the long run, if he could make her see the light, the way that the world could be if they escaped from under the leadership of a man who viewed purity and power and magic as the only worthwhile things in this world. “Competent may be a strong word when it comes to me and Sirius. Enthusiastic, of course. But only half of us can be called competent. So duelling is probably best to be avoided for everyone.” He gives her a small wink, to chase away the sadness of his own thoughts. He gives her a spin as well, before the song comes to an end and he guides her off the dancefloor. “Come along, little Rosier. I’ll get you a drink and keep Mr. Flint away from you. He doesn’t like me very much – I accidentally knocked a glass of wine into his lap the last time we were sat next to each other at a dinner. Do point out any men that you do feel are worthy of your time, and I can make the proper introductions.” 

Regulus needs ingredients for his potions. There’s a lab down in the basement of 12 Grimmauld Place that his father had installed just for him. A gift that was unexpected in it’s thoughtfulness during a Christmas when Regulus had wanted almost nothing to do with his family at all. They could be such brutal things, and then they did something that would make him think maybe, maybe they loved him. But he knew deep down that it was all a ploy, a gift to keep him happy so they could twist him more to their will later down the line. Still, Regulus loved his little potions lab, and he was doing more than a normal amount of experiemnts down there lately. There was only one place it made sense to go, when he was looking for something he needed. 

“I need aconite, and you aren’t allowed to ask me why.” He said, by way of a greeting, because the shop was empty and part of him wanted to give Lucius a little bit of shit for everything that had gone on lately. “I’m expecting a family discount, now that you’ve married my cousin.” He says. His voice is as terse as it usually is, bland. Eyes sharp, looking Lucius up and down. “Without telling anyone, might I add. Very rude. Very rude indeed, Malfoy.” 

Regulus practically falls into his seat across from Narcissa when he gets to the cafe. He feels like he’s been stretched too thin lately, pulled taut over all of his research and projects. He brews his potions, he researches dark magic, he worries into the very late hours of the night about Tom Riddle and whatever he’s going around hiding in obscure lockets and rings and god knew what else. Seeing Narcissa was like a balm for his soul, one he was grateful for now, when he was sure the next few days were likely to be painful and tense. 

“Cissa,” He says her name with a warm sigh, “Thank god you wanted to meet. Mother has been lecturing me about marriage and baby making for two full days now.” He says, nose wrinkled up in a gesture that someone once called adorable, before they got a fork stabbed through their hand at dinner. “I swear, she’s even trying to track down Great Aunt Dorea’s antique ring so she can force it on me.” 

He rips his eyes away from Narcissa only for a moment when the waitress comes over to place his order. “Coffee. Black. Quickly.” In a tone that didn’t broker any argument or elaboration. In an instant flat, he’s focused on Narcissa once again. “So, oh wisest of cousins, how do I get her to back off for another season?” 

There’s an almost childlike urge to stick his tongue out at Regulus when he corrects James on the nickname. An urge to just prove that things don’t have to be this way, that they could fix whatever this was between them. But for once in life, he resists the urge and says nothing. It wouldn’t help anything but make the younger boy close himself off even more.

There’s a silence between the house elf’s outburst and it disappearing to clean up his mess that James can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sure absurdity of it all. “He really doesn’t have to do that. I can clean up after myself.” It’s the truth, his family refused to have house elves considering it one of the worst things the Wizarding World had managed to make socially acceptable. Euphemia would be rolling in her grave if she knew a house elf was currently tidying up her son’s apartment because he’d been too busy to do it himself.

For only the second time in his entire life, James manages to stay quiet during Regulus’ explanation of Riddle coming to visit him. There’s concern that Riddle has taken an interest in Regulus, an anger coursing through James at the the thought of Riddle trying to recruit Regulus for anything. And then there’s the second he notices the shift from annoyed Reg to the clinical, cold pureblood front he puts on. It causes a flash of something, a want to take Regulus away where he doesn’t have to put on that mask again.

“In theory? Yes. I used to sneak into the Restricted Section and read the books we weren’t supposed to.” The weekends were easiest to sneak around, with everyone wanting to be outside on the grounds and not stuck inside the library. “You really think this locket is one? And we’re just going to sneak into this cave and steal it from Riddle without him knowing?”

.

Regulus doesn’t pay much attention to Jame’s argument about the cleaning. There are more important things to think about. And he’s genuinely worried that the elf will go for Potter’s knees if he senses too much familiarity or teasing in the other mans voice. He’s always been a little too protective of Regulus.

Reg presses his lips together in a thin line, nodding his head. He hadn’t really expected James to know much about it. That was dark magic. Not the kind of thing that he though James would know about, not the kind of thing he had been raised on. Regulus was practically fed on the stuff, and had never been weaned off of it. Sometimes he worried that his childhood, growing up at 12 Grimmauld Place with all of its dark corners and terrifying artefacts, had perminantly tainted his soul. Yet another reason him and James would never have worked in the long run. James was too good for him, so clean, while Regulus was such a filthy and broken thing. Funny that a family so obsessed with purity had bred something as tainted as he was into existence. “Hm. Indeed. I do remember your habit of nighttime wandering.” And he’d known too that only half of the time James spent wandering the castle at night had been to come and see Regulus. 

He takes a step closer to James, nodding his head as he goes. “Yes. We’re going to sneak into this cave and steal it.” The words sound more confident than he really feels, and he makes himself look directly in James’ eyes as he says them. Those eyes, the ones that are so easy to get lost in. If things go wrong in the cave and Regulus doesn’t make it out alive, he hopes that those eyes will be the last thing he ever sees. “It will be difficult, and it will probably be painful, if what I’ve heard about the cave’s protections are true. I am fairly sure he won’t know we were there. That’s the thing about men who feel powerful, Potter. They don’t take as many precautions as they should. He thinks that whatever he’s set up in there will kill us, so it doesn’t matter if we manage to get in.” 

status: closed character: regulus/ @regulusrab​ location: regulus’ bedroom (the scandel)

Since “allowing” Regulus to court her, Emma has seen her fair share of Grimmauld Place. Between parties she was expected to do nothing but be shown around the room on Regulus’ arm, to tea with her potential fake future mother-in-law, she thought she knew the Black house better than most people. The one place she hadn’t really ventured into was Regulus’ personal bedroom. Call it a complete disinterest in the man himself as anything other than her best friend or the fact that both of them were faking their relationship to stop other purebloods from attempting to court them. But she’s grateful for the house elf that shows her the way, making sure to quietly thank him before he leaves.

“Your mother expects me to quit Quidditch soon. Something about getting ready for marriage and baby making.” Her tone is sarcastic, as Emma is entering the room like she owns it. "It might actually break her heart when we tell her that won’t be happening any time soon.”

.

Something feels a little bit deeply wrong about Emma Vanity walking into his bedroom. He can practically feel several generations of Black’s rolling in their graves, muttering about a man being alone with his intended in a bedroom before he’s even put an engagement ring on her finger properly. The scandal it would cause. Nevermind that Emma has been his friend for far longer than he was ever courting her. Nevermind that Emma has been his friend since before he was ever a man at all, let alone one respectable enough in society to court her at all. It shouldn’t feel strange to have her in here at all. But he felt almost shy with it, to have her see the sketches on his wall and the books piled atop each other on his bedside table, the little plants he’s stubbornly attempting to nurture on his window, even though Number 12 gets shockingly little natural light. He has to look up from one of the little things when she walks in, fingers still gently trying to coax a new leaf into unfurling. 

“But you playing Quidditch is one of the most attractive things about you.” He furrows a brow at her, and then smiles, a sharp little thing. “If we do ever get married and start baby making, I swear to you it shall be I who stays home and rears the little monsters while you make a name for yourself as the undisputed Goddess of all things Quidditch.”