#txmriddlx

Summary: Regulus Black: A pureblood wizard. The Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. A husband. A teenager. A Death Eater. Desire for revenge leads him right into the Dark Lord's arms, and allows him to cross the boundaries that once crossed cannot be undone. All actions have consequencs and now it's time for him to pay for his sins. So his unborn child can be proud of him.

Status: completed

Chapters: 3

Words: 18k+

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9. Where is the true North/South divide?

This is a map of all the waitrose branches in Britain. Need I say more

10. Explain the Freddos controversy for all your non-British followers

Listen up, freddos are these tiny little chocolate bars (sorta) shaped like frogs (irl chocolate frogs if you will) and when I was little they used to cost 10p which is a  REASONABLE PRICE because seriously they’re tiny. They’re like 15 grams. 

And from like 1990-2005 it cost 10p (yes I’ve done my research) which like I say is a reasonable price for such a small amount of chocolate. And the price stayed constant for 15 years but now it costs 30p??? What is that??

And yes, I know inflation exists but that is DOUBLE the original price adjusted for inflation. If the price of freddos were increasing at a normal rate they’d be 15p and it is RIDICULOUS that cadbury’s is charging 30p for that shit

Disclaimer: I haven’t eaten a freddo in about 10 years and I don’t know anybody that buys them. We’re all just trained to care very deeply about this even though I probably wouldn’t buy freddos even if they were only 15p. We just care deeply about the injustice of it

30. Chips with gravy: a delicacy or an abomination? How about curry sauce?

As a southerner I didn’t even realise chips and gravy was a thing until I was about 15 and I had nightmares for weeks

2k make me choose: Regulus Black or Abraxas Malfoy

Regulus was instantly recognisable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.

Stepping through to the dining room which had once framed Dracos favorite view of the lush green garden beyond the manor, was now drowned out with dark heavy floor curtains. Cracks of light spilled down the sides illuminating the dust in the air. A dozen cloaked masses now sat at his once welocming dining table. His breath caught in the back of his throat as he inhaled before pacing to the empty seat at the table. His mother's hand gripped his knee as he sat and glanced down at the figures now removing their masks. Keeping his gaze low, Draco turned to the head of the table. 

"Young Master Malfoy," the chilled voice prickled at the skin of his neck, "I am sure I need not explain the dire importance of our current situation. Your eavesdropping from behind closed doors should have filled you in quite nicely." Tensing every muscle Draco begged his body to remain still, the grip on his leg tightened keeping him grounded. Locking his focus on the small cracks of the table the figure to his left seemed to almost lounge in his chair, though his eyes searched every inch of his face hungry for attention.

"You shall kill Him Draco," Voldemort's voice hung in the air, a few murmurs came from the lower end of the table but were quickly silenced by a sickening laugh that pierced the room. With the flick of a wrist Draco's gaze was snapped straight in The Dark Lords direction; a smile cracked across the ghastly face in front of him, "and should the Malfoys yet again fail, I won't be so forgiving." The smile widened a fraction as Dracos nerves faltered. "I place their lives into your hands Draco." Silence fell and time slowed to an agonizing pace.

Across from him, Draco saw the moment panic strike his fathers face. Lucius' tired eyes flashed wide and his mother's vice grip dug deep into his leg. It felt like hours that he had been sat there, those words ringing in his head like a thumping headache. The weight of the situation drenched Draco in a cold sweat. Blood surged through his ears and his nails dug deep red patterns into his palms. His mind begged him to run, run and keep running til his lungs gave out. But his body felt like a weight it could not lift. Rooted in the chair his heart pounded, Voldemort's words constricting in his chest. How was he supposed to plot such an impossible task? To kill a man, no. To kill Dumbledore.