Though Fenrir Didn't Mind Doing The Death Eaters Dirty Work For Them, Sometimes He Wished That They Would

While Regulus was growing more wary of his friends as his allegiances were shifting and changing, when Severus had reached out to him Regulus had gone without question. Reg had wondered whether Severus might understand his logic, particularly given his previous attachment to Lily Evans but he didn't dare breathe a word of it, just in case.

Stepping into Severus' home, Reg shrugged off his coat and hung it up. "I would love a cup of tea if you don't mind. It's freezing out - even warming charms don't seem to make much difference."

where: his home who: @battle-scvrs (Regulus Black) when: first of january

There was one person that Severus felt he could count on, a friendship he would be eternally grateful for. They had shared a few first together, but most importantly, he did not have many friends when he lost the one that shattered him on the inside. He could appear cold and detached on the outside, but that was him protecting himself.

"Regulus." A low gravelly voice echoes in the hallway, greeting him at the foyer. "The study is ready." He turns to find his way back to a room that was his safe haven. "Did you want something to drink?"

Frowning at the woman, Regulus stood straight though his body was still angled in a way that he was blocking the shelf. "What about I'm browsing this shelf currently did you not understand?" he muttered grumpily. "There's no common courtesy these days for the British tradition of queueing and waiting your turn. Go ahead," he said, staring at the man behind Greta who was also eyeing up the shelf that Reg had been browsing. "But make it snappy, I want to take my time choosing the best ingredients."

Greta had had a bit of a cold recently and she decided to slip into the apothecary and get herself some medicine so that she would feel better quicker. As there was someone at the shelf she needed to get to, taking quite a while she cleared her throat, apologetic smile on her face when Regulus turned around. "I just need some cold medicine and then I'll be out of your way."

Kingsley had been out on investigation work when he'd received an urgent summons to a sleepy muggle village in the Yorkshire Dales that was now the site of a major crime scene. "The obliviators have been called," finished off the message, and with a sigh Kingsley abandoned the trail he'd been following and apparated to just outside of the village. The Dark Mark was high in the sky and must have been visible for miles, which led to a countless number of muggles who's memories needed wiping - never mind the victims of whatever Death Eater had decided to use unknowing muggles as their playthings.

Moving through the carnage, Kingsley joined in the bustling groups of ministry workers who were slowly lowering the floating muggles. He joined in the work of getting the muggles down, but whilst he did so he quickly and harmlessly used legilimency to see if the Death Eater at fault happened to be unmasked in any of their confused memories. It wasn't something he would do on a magical being, but if he interviewed any of these muggles all he would get back was confusion and nonsense. Sometimes, needs must.

Just as he raised his wand to return another muggle back to the ground, a shrill voice broke his concentration and Kingsley drew a sharp breath. "Lestrange...always a pleasure," he said, not shying away from her closeness. He would not be intimidated by this woman. "Oh, and they were so inappropriate...you can't blame me for continuing to hold those against you now, can you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "As the auror in charge here, I must insist that if you are questioning any muggles that I am present...just to ensure good practice is being followed," he said, a firmness in his tone that confirmed he would not be swayed. "This is an active auror investigation, and certain processes must be followed especially where muggles are involved. I'm sure you understand, you're a reasonable woman."

Starter for: Kingsley Shacklebolt @battle-scvrs Where: a Muggle village, attended by Aurors and the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes When: the middle of the day

As a Senior Minister, Bellatrix did not have to go out on active duties these days. But sometimes she inserted herself into the opportunity like a silver dagger slashing pretty pink flesh; wilfully and dishonourably.

So here she stood, the picture of elegance at a scene of terrible magical disarray. Muggles were floating around like inflated toys, caught in trees and windows and Merlin knew what else. Frankly, she couldn't care less. But her employer did care - and so did the Dark Lord. Aurors had been summoned, for her department had suspected foul play at the hands of Death Eaters.

The Dark Mark shining over the village post office did also slightly give the game away. That wasn't supposed to be there. Bellatrix now stood before it, a look of utter fury ripping her expression in two as she stared up at it and wondered which of her idiot allies had been so stupid to forget the most basic of commands. Eyes expanding in the sallow green haze, her hair whipped around her like streaming black ribbons, nails clenching into the palms of her hands. She was here to make this incident disappear from the Ministry's radar, but the Dark Mark made that work impossible.

Turning away, she headed forcefully towards the village square. She would rip the culprit's identify from one of these vile muggles' minds. That was the only thought in her head, until her sight fell upon Kingsley Shacklebolt and she smiled a smile of avaricious yearning.

"Hello Kingsley, my old friend." Stepping beside him, she stood too close for comfort and delicately brushed some non-existent dust from his cloak. Her eyes lingered on his midriff, where she knew he must harbour a sumptuous scar slashed by her own wand. Oh, how she'd love to see it.... Lips twitching with the involuntarily thirst for it, she pressed them into a curve and looked up into his expression. "You don't still hold a grudge against me, do you? For those inappropriate conversations at Hogwarts?" With a tsk, she stepped back and waved her fingers towards the Dark Mark. True anger filled her expression once more and she channelled the emotion into a new purpose. "Whoever is responsible for that must be caught and punished. You will have your perpetrator when I've finished questioning these muggles."

Quirking his eyebrow at the mention of a birthday party, Fenrir mentally ran through his schedule. "I'm currently working Monday through Thursday, then Sunday. For the right price I might be able to make an adjustment and come in on Saturday," he added, thinking of the upcoming festive season. "What are you thinking? Full menu, or buffet style?"

"I wanted to know your availability for the next week. I wanted to discuss throwing a birthday party for my brother Emmett." He owned the tattoo shop right next to the White Wyvern so Emma thought this would be the perfect location. And now that her wedding stress was over and Seth and her settled into married life, she thought it came time to host something and do something for her brother.

There had to come a breaking point in this war at some point, but it was difficult to ignore the assumption that many of the Death Eaters were unemployed pure-blooded socialites who didn't have to worry about keeping their activities to after-work hours. That wasn't to say that there weren't plenty of Death Eaters who were employed, in fact Kingsley had his suspicions about many of the ministry employees, but he doubted that so many of the other side were as exhausted as the Order were getting. "Many things can be said about my parents, but the manners that they raised me and Sade with were absolutely perfect," Kingsley acknowledged. "Oh, absolutely she does. More than anyone."

Kingsley curled his hand around the beer glass, letting the cold sink into his skin as he considered Edgar's words. "I just...can't risk losing her. What happens to Jasper if she's gone? What happens to me if she's gone?" he said, his voice strained. "I would never dream of controlling her, and if she decides this is what she wants then by Merlin I will put her through training more rigorous than auror training. But you know as well as I that it only takes one rogue spell and that's it...the vicious scar on my side is testament to that. I'm scared for her."

He could agree with Kingsley, the nights were getting longer, and one they had finished with the ministry, they were off do order business. Things had been tense, especially with what happened with Frank, that they had their guard up more. "We can respect your mom." He laughed, a shake of his head. Edgar wanted to admit that he could tell the bars were getting busier, but his mind had been on other witches, that it was hard to keep from this thoughts, and considering his grandfather's death. "She deserves it." Ros worked hard.

Edgar could understand the worry when it came to his friends sister wanting to be part of the order, especially with have a toddler at home to take care of. He did his best to make sure the witch was out of harms way, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before she pushed for more. The wizard took a sip of his beer. "That is why we have to make sure she's trained properly." He knew how his own sister put herself in harms way at times, but it wasn't like this, grateful that she never asked to be part of what he did. "You know you are both safe with us."

Kingsley had spent much of the day hunched over his desk, trying to finish off the paperwork that he had foolishly let build up. It was easy to throw himself into the field and then to come back to the floor and throw himself head first into the next case, but the office had processes and policies and 'if you don't file that paperwork, Shacklebolt, we're going to have issues'. Fuelled with coffee that he had recharmed to keep refilling itself, Kingsley had kept his head down and ignored the noise of the office as he made a firm dent in the piles of case work.

Just as he put the finishing notes on the final piece of paperwork, a welcome presence appeared right before his eyes and Kingsley shot his friend a small grin. "Long day? You look like shit, brother. Firewhiskey at Rosmerta's will sort you out. I've just finished up, just need to file these," he explained, tapping the pile of parchment with his wand. Watching as the pages shot away to be filed, Kings stood and reached for his jacket. "Let's get out of here, I'm tired of these four walls."

where: the ministry who: @battle-scvrs

It had been a long day and Edgar was finally returning to the Ministry after the nightmare he had gone through with the wizard he was sent out to. He tossed his robes on the back of his chair, slightly annoyed that there was still an hour left before he could officially leave.

Making his way through the floor, he noticed that Alastor was gone, but he did catch sight of Kingsley, weaving around a couple more desk before plopping down in the chair at the front of his friend's desk.

"I could really use a drink after work, tell me you are free to join me." Edgar glances over, not too worried that he interrupted his friend making a few notes on parchment.

Alecto's shuffling betrayed her discomfort, regardless of the lack of expression on her face. Fenrir was no fan of the woman in front of him, but he wasn't entirely heartless and he didn't want to see a heavily pregnant woman sit in discomfort in his home. "The couch is softer if you want to swap. Or I have some duck feather cushions that I can offer you," he said, offering them as a truce between them. "You won't find it to be necessary, Carrow. Yes, we can be done with that topic."

Fenrir tried not to get involved with the Scottish werewolves where possible. Managing his own pack was enough work without being dragged into the internal politics of another pack - never mind that when two werewolf alphas in the same room usually led to vicious fights. But to hear that Angus had wandering hands...Fenrir wanted to apparate to Scotland and rip those hands off. It was unthinkable to him that the leader of a pack should behave in such a way. "If you were to want to depose Angus in the future, or if you wanted to teach him a lesson...I would offer my assistance," Fenrir said carefully. "I will save that favour for the future."

Alecto shifted in her position sat in the lounge chair, finding the cushions uncomfortable, yet a stoic expression remained rooted on her features, unwilling to shed any emotion around the beast. The odd concept was, if he was not the beast he was, she was certain the two would get along well enough. They shared a creative insight when it came to methods that intrigued them. "I will, if it's necessary."

"Perhaps you might wish to choose your wording carefully, if you do not like what others might have to say in return." A nonchalant drop of her shoulders. "Are we done with this topic?" Alecto was, and he was wasting her time.

Alecto wished not to physical harm Angus, it would ruin the work that went behind making the alliance and the part that she played, and knew it would upset the Dark Lord. She took mental note of what was being shared, giving a small nod of her head. "I think that will suffice. I do not take kind to be treated like an object." Something she could use against him if he tried to make another move on her, at least now she was married and soon to be a mother, perhaps he'd have a little more respect. "If there is something you need, I shall return the favour."

"Yes, my darling, you intrigue me. You're fascinating, and for some reason, I can't seem to get enough of you," he said, tone low and inviting. There were few pure-blooded wizards who were remotely civil with him, never mind the levels of intimacy that he shared with Pandora. There was still a world of difference between them, owing to their difference in species, but she had never shown any signs of disgust at his beast. He was no fool, he knew this would end - she would find a nice, pureblooded husband and he would settle down with a werewolf, and that was that. "A long while you say? My darling, I have a pack to lead, and a son to raise. I am a busy man, with many demands upon my time...but for tonight, you shall come first. I shall follow your lead."

A wicked smirk pulled at his lips at the tenderness of her hand against his chest, and he felt Pandora giving in just as easily as he had predicted. He pressed another light kiss to her jawline, his hands coming to rest against her hips to pull her closer. "I'm not known for being well behaved."

Fenrir didn't move his hands from Pandora's hips as she spoke, silently considering her words. Trusting non-werewolves completely was not something that came easy to Fenrir, it was not something he had needed to do for years. Deciding not to comment on her affirmation that she was the one person he could trust, Fenrir met her kiss before he drew back. "I'll do it. You have to test it, and I am a willing participant. There's nothing in my life that I am ashamed of others knowing," he said nonchalantly, before he reached out and placed his hands on the clock.

"I intrigue you?" That was not one would normally describe her as, intriguing, and that stirred something inside of her. "Here we are." A softness to her tone, unable to hide the growing smile on her face. Pandora found a comfort in his arms that she could slip out of the wizarding world and be her own identity. There was an acceptance of who they were that didn't need to be spoken. She also knew the reality of the situation. There was a challenge swirling in her hues when he continued to close the distance between them. "I think that is wise. I may need you for a long while."

A palm rests on the centre of his chest, goosebumps fleshing her body at the tender kiss placed at the side of her neck. The self-control she held, seemed to wane at his sly tactics, knowing what will come later. "I have faith that you can." A sultry tone to her words, teeth scraping across her lower lip.

The other hand raised, resting her palm along with the other, on his chest. "I know you do, Fen." Pandora could understand why he didn't, he was an outcast by the very society she walked in, but she was different than them. "You can trust me. I'm the one person you can always trust." Sincere amber hues fixating on his, still ready to back off if he declined.

"Yes, that is what is supposed to happen." The witch leans up on her tip toes to draw him down to meet her lips in a kiss. "You don't have to."

Regulus didn't want James Potter to burrow his way under his skin again like he had those years ago. It had been too easy back then, and it would be too easy now. Reg wanted to build the walls back between them again - it was more comfortable behind his walls of steel where there was less risk of his heart shattering all over again. Regulus took a step backwards, putting physical distance between them. "I don't wanna talk about it. I don't wanna talk about it, I don't want to talk about Sirius, I don't want to talk about...being your dirty secret," he said, catching the way James' eyes had darted away. "I don't want to talk to you any more at all, actually," he said harshly, feeling the sudden need to get home and hide underneath a blanket.

Frowning deeply at James' question, Reg pulled a face. "Of course I have. What, did you think I'd just...be sitting around pining for you? I made that mistake once. Never again," he sneered, before shoving a vial of jewelweed in James' direction. "I expect your undying thanks," he said, not saying a goodbye before he turned to head towards the counter.

Despite the years of distance between them, it was like Regulus was right there, inside his mind. James supposed it was like picking up an old favourite book. You may forget individual words, but the sentiment felt familiar. How James thought wasn't that different, between then and now. "I'm not... lumping you in with him," James said, eyebrows slightly furrowing in confusion. "Sorry if it came across like that. You're a long way from being just his brother, but you don't need me to tell you that." He nodded. "I know. We don't... need to talk about this." His words were careful, slow, quiet. Almost reflexively, his eyes left Regulus' at length, to look around, just for a moment. Making sure nobody was listening in out of habit. Suddenly, he was seventeen again. He felt horrible about it immediately.

"Moved on?" Again, it was too late, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He shook his head. How had he wound up in this situation? Perhaps the sleeplessness was getting to him. "Come on, Reg. Please. You made your point." It was for a potion for his father, who wasn't feeling very well. "In that case, I'll make sure it's an extra cool one. Doing a backflip or something. Although that's nothing to you, I know." He offered a small smile. "Sure, I have no insight into your life, which is... fair enough, but I do hope you're at least still flying."

Despite the fact that Regulus was now twenty-one years old and lived alone, he was not immune from being sent to do his mother's dirty work on a quiet weekend. After all, why go to Knockturn Alley yourself when you can send your son to do it for you? Tugging his jacket a little tighter around his body as he pondered bitterly the fact his mother still didn't respect the sanctity of his time alone, Reg had kept his eyes downcast as he weaved in and out of the crowds. Just as he was about to take the turn towards Knockturn, Reg spotted a familiar flash of blonde hair and decided that Borgin and Burkes could wait. "Merely saying hello, cousin," Regulus said, offering her a small smile. "How was your honeymoon? And life at Malfoy Manor?"

WHO: Narcissa & OPEN WHERE: Diagon Alley

With a small list of items to collect on her travels, Narcissa had made her way to Diagon Alley for the afternoon. The streets were as busy as ever as she weaved in and out of the other witches and wizards who’d had the similar idea of coming in to town now that students were back at Hogwarts again for the year. Thoughts drifting off to the memories of her honeymoon as she perused, Narcissa hadn’t been aware of someone approaching her until she heard a voice that seemed to be closer than the rest around her. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?” She asked, looking around at the other person.