#alphaleoniis

Location: Stables, McKinnon Farm Time: 23rd of February Status: Closed, for: @alphaleoniis​

Bran wasn’t well acquainted with the Black family, let alone the two sons. By the time they had begun joining proper pureblood events and participating in the society they were born into, Bran was already in her rebellious phase, throwing fists at guys three times taller than her, knocking bludgers at Slytherins, and kissing girls in bathroom stalls. But she had heard the gossip of course.

Sirius Black -- in Gryffindor! Against all odds. Befriending Half-Bloods and Muggle-Borns (and as Bran had newly found out: a literal monster, too). Soon enough, the rumors about his status as a blood traitor reached the tea rooms of Bran’s mother, and the gasps had been loud despite the inevitableness of it all. Everyone had turned to look at the younger of the two, then, the one who had never caused such commotion: Regulus. A name, suited much better for a heir, was what everyone whispered, then. 

And the boy seemed to wear his name like a crown indeed, a head held proud, grades and demeanor rumored to be flawless. As this point, Bran was busy defying her mother, which resulted in her being sent to nursing school. She had no time to gossip along and hear about other pureblood families’ perfect heirs. She only cared about one heir, and that was her retched cousin Corban. By the time Regulus was out of school and could’ve run into her at pureblood events, Bran was already searching for a way into the Order.

It felt like every time Emmeline found herself with a spare moment, she ended up back here staring at her cupboards and supplies. Her purpose was twofold, she supposed. Emmeline wanted to be as well stocked as possible to be prepared for as much as possible, but she also worried about what would happen if this safe house was determined no longer safe. Her supplies needed to be all secure and organized in case she needed to shrink down the cupboards in a hurry and take them with her.

She was so lost in that thought that she wasn’t sure how long someone had been standing in the doorway before she noticed. When Emmeline turned around, she hadn’t expected to see Regulus Black of all people, but she still offered him a smile. 

“Can I help you with something?” she asked as she moved away from the cupboard and gestured toward one of the beds.

Location: Potter Estate, porch Time: 22nd of February, twilight Status: Closed, for @alphaleoniis

“The cards, hm?” Edgar asked.

He’d been sitting on the front porch of the Potter Estate as he’d so often done before. But usually his smokes outside were brief, caught between departure and conversations inside. These days however he barely set foot inside anymore. The house was no longer safe, and his breath hurt like fire when he was robbed of the change to look out onto the driveway to make sure everything was still fine.

He didn’t know how much longer it still would be. The new boy, Regulus Black, and his message, brought both hope and and warning with it, and Edgar didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. But he did, however, knew a way to come to believe it. So when Black the Younger stepped out from the house Edgar was already waiting, his expression mellow, friendly, almost passive.

Much as Annalise loved her job, it was difficult to concentrate when her other work weighed so heavily on her mind. It was always going to be a slow process, earning the Order’s trust, figuring out their secrets and learning how to destroy them, but she needed to do everything she could to make it happen. So, as soon as she finished work, Annalise Apparated to the McKinnon Farm. She didn’t really have any reason to be there, but she wanted to show her face as often as she could. The more present she was, the more people were used to seeing her around, the faster any suspicion regarding her Death Eater connections would fade.

Interacting with the runaways at the Farm, in particular, seemed a good way to emphasize her commitment to the Order, and distance herself from the elitist pureblood ideologies. It wasn’t as though they were precisely her own beliefs, after all; she didn’t give a damn about the Dark Lord’s anti-Muggleborn agenda. Though she admittedly had never given much thought to the plight of Muggleborns before, she supposed that she felt pity for them. Easy enough to portray that pity as compassion, by spending some time talking with them.

When she pushed open the door to the kitchen, then, she was expecting to run into some of those runaways. But the kitchen was empty, save for one familiar face. It took a moment for her mind to process what she was seeing and connect that face to the name of someone who, as far as Annalise had been aware, had been a corpse for over a year. “Black?” she asked, not quite believing her eyes.

Location: The place where they visited at children Date: February 22, 1982 at midnight Starter: @alphaleoniis​

Sirius pulled his jacket tighter around him. Tonight was one of those rare nights that he might have preferred a cloak, but he was smart enough not to wear one in Muggle London. The park was small, smaller than he remembered. Currently Sirius was all alone, although the clock etched into his skin said it was in fact midnight. 

He moved forward, mindful to look relaxed, even as his hand clutched his wand in his pocket. Sirius considered where to go for a moment before his eyes drifted to the merry-go-round at the park’s edge. He could imagine a bright, sunny day running as fast as he could in that circle--the gravel crunching under his feet with every step--and nearly falling over before jumping on to ride around with Regulus, shrieking and laughing as the world sailed around them.

For lack of something better to do, Sirius sat down on it. He stared out into the dark, still unsure which he wanted this to be: a trap he could fight his way out of or his dead baby brother.

Sirius hated being in hospital beds. It seemed like he was in one far too often these days too, he mused as he stared up at the ceiling. They were always boring, involved fussiness, and left him wanting for anything to entertain himself. 

“You idiot!”

Regulus would do.

Sirius cocked his head, tilting it forward enough to see his brother. “I’m not supposed to move,” he explained. “Emmeline restrained me and everything because she didn’t believe I’d actually sit still long enough for my ribs to regrow back in the same place.”

“That spell could have killed you,” Regulus snapped. “Honestly it should have killed you. That was idiotic to jump in front like that. I could have gotten a shield up in time!”

“You wouldn’t have,” Sirius said. He believed it too. Regulus’ face had filled with a sense of calm, almost like he was ready to accept whatever was about to happen to him. Sirius never wanted to see it again. “You know you were dead once.”

Regulus opened his mouth to argue, but Sirius made a noise of protest and pressed on.

“Regardless of what actually happened to you, we all thought you were dead. I thought you were dead, and sometimes I wondered about you--what might have happened, if you suffered... if I could have done anything if I’d been there. I can’t ask myself any of those questions, not again.”

“That’s not fair.” Regulus scowled, but his shoulders shifted down slightly, a little less tense, a little less defensive. “I’m not going to treat myself like something delicate just because you don’t want to admit the people around you are mortal.”

Sirius flinched. Regulus bit his lip. Clearly he hadn’t meant to reference James.

Trying to save the moment, Sirius said, “Ask Emmeline. I think you are something delicate.”