Chapter 8
A certain steel was required to weather Iago gossip, and even before everything began to fall apart in her late adolescence, Narcissa had known well that tongues were sharp and eyes were sharper.
Morning tea at the cafe had only just started when Persephone Avery approached, starting the day with a furtive murmur that Narcissa decided quite immediately that she could have done without.
"What are you implying?" Narcissa responded stiffly as Persephone shifted back in her seat.
"I'm not trying to imply anything. I just thought you should know, if you had not heard already-"
"Who was it?" Narcissa interrupted firmly, smoothing the pattering panic in his chest and holding her face like carved marble. "When was it?"
"Earlier this week, I believe. Clary said she saw him walking with some woman she didn't know but wouldn't admit why she was there," Persephone said with a little sigh, "Probably slipping off with Ernest again. I don't see why she doesn't just marry him or move on. Second marriages aren't a thing to drag your feet on, you know, and Ernest may not be the best, but-"
"I don't care about your sister-in-law; I'm asking about Regulus." Narcissa tightened her mouth a little. "Does anyone know who it was?"
"No one else saw, and 'woman with brown hair' is hardly a distinctive description. Honestly, I'm not even sure if Clary did. She does enjoy a good story," Persephone said with a shrug, mouth twitching down subtly at the corner. "I don't know what to make of it. He seemed normal enough when I saw him, but the stories are unsettling."
The look Persephone leveled at her held an unspoken question - 'What do you make of it?' - and a cornered sort of discomfort clenched in Narcissa's chest.
"I wish Sebastian was here. I'm sure you wish the same about Lucius," Persephone continued, shaking her head with a frown, seeming to catch on to Narcissa's disinterest in commenting on the matter.
"I do," Narcissa confirmed, punctuated with a sip of tea, but her uncertainties about her incarcerated husband combated with her uncertainties about her free-walking cousin, and it was hard to tell which aspect was more frustrating.
Years had passed since last their family had a scandal - Lucius's arrest was not truly a scandal, not in that respect - but how predictable it was that Sirius ret-enters the picture of their family, and their name starts getting tarnished again. Regulus had begun to mix with that embarrassment's associations, and if this was not proof of the way it was going to drag Regulus into the muck with him, she did not know what further proof she could get. Regulus would know better to pursue anything with some random woman, and in that respect, she did not truly worry that he required reminders on the matter; yet it did trouble her that she would not have thought he would argue the justification of the traitors' company, either, before the events of this summer. That Regulus knew the sort of keen harshness that Iago could breed made it quite a bit more frustrating that he was not even bothering to hide these associations.
Persephone had moved on to talk about the Jugsons, and Narcissa tipped her head politely, trying to re-center her mind on the conversation. Perhaps Regulus could use another brush of reminders, but she half-worried it would be some approximation of Sirius's justifications that she would hear, just as she had the two times before.
This needed to stop.
With the end of his time at Iago drawing nearer - and Harry's birthday drawing nearer still - Regulus was again wandering the shops, but this time, it was without such specific hunting purposes. He and Sirius had ultimately decided to split a gift, but when he saw the bookshop, Regulus felt a little pang. Regulus had not initiated contact with Draco since last they had spoken, nor had he done so with Narcissa, but the echoes still lingered in his mind.
For the past few days, he had felt as though there were more sideways glances in his direction, but whether it was a positive or a negative change had yet to be determined. The villagers running the shops didn't seem to mind him - the older man running the bookshop even remembered him, when at last he initiated conversation - but the migratory Society seemed to be taking its time in deciding the verdict. A month later, it was not so terrible as it had been that first day, as far as frustration levels went, but this study in exclusion had been significantly less riveting from the receiving end.
The magical items and artifacts shop had supposedly received a shipment he was curious to poke at, in case it inspired any connection to the useless spread of items he'd found at his cousin's. Within the shop, he could see a fuller spread on the shelves, even from the cobblestone walkway, but he had not yet stepped through the door when a vaguely familiar voice cut from behind him:
"You have a lot of nerve, showing up here after what you did."
Regulus stiffened against a startle, pausing for a still moment before turning around to see Corban Yaxley. The older man's expression was demonstrably chillier than most of the social shutdowns, and Regulus did not much like the way his hand tapped casually near his pocketed wand, but it was no different than Regulus had expected from the start.
Tipping up his chin stubbornly, Regulus held the stare.
"As is my right," Regulus argued firmly. "I'll come for as long as I deem it an enjoyable diversion."
"Assuming you live to see another," Yaxley said dryly.
Yaxley's threat was jarring against the backdrop of subtler ostracization, and Regulus steeled himself against any reaction with cold grey walls behind his escalation was perhaps not the easiest way to diffuse this particular interaction, he felt a defensive sort of irritation bubbling up. "I've been doing a stable job of surviving, but the lot of you seem to be struggling to stay out of Azkaban. I would worry more about that, if I were you."
"And how long will that last when your new vigilante shields determine you to be a security risk?" Yaxley inquired mockingly, to which Regulus's nose crinkled in distaste. "For someone so determined to burn bridges with his previous friends and allies, you are putting a lot of trust in a scrambling lot that resents what you represent, and even if they did not, stands no chance. The Dark Lord's defeat was a fluke last time."
"It won't be a fluke this time," Regulus countered coolly, and though Yaxley jerked forward a step with his fingers folding around his wand, Regulus held still as a statue. He could not tell if Yaxley was out of the prophecy loop or if he was purposefully misrepresenting the complexity, but it was irritating, nonetheless. To hold back another unpleasant remark, he focused on silently counting the seconds until Yaxley responded.
It was five very uncomfortable seconds, in the end. "You're going to regret running," Yaxley began, eyes narrowing slightly. "You know what will happen. What always happens, eventually. It's a waste of blood, but the Dark Lord doesn't suffer traitors, and I'm already tired of suffering your lip."
"I would rather not fight you - any of you - but I'm not going to drop to my knees to beg or to die, so I suppose that brings us to a bit of a quandary, as it is." Regulus again lifted his chin, trying to ignore the anxious nerves webbing in his chest. "If anyone wishes to debate it like a civilised person, I am amenable to such a thing, but if we're talking matters of preference and annoyance, I'm already tired of suffering threats, myself."
"You ought to get used to them if you intend to mix with traitors and run your mouth like some short-sighted child. You have a good family, and you were a good kid, but don't think that will be enough to make this go away." The line of Yaxley's mouth was hard and flat, his eyes dark and fixed, and Regulus felt the sharp truth of it, as fresh as ever.
"That is the way of it now, isn't it?" Regulus said, narrowing his own eyes. "Killing off bloodlines as soon as questions are raised. Is that what we do now, as purebloods? It's one thing to ostracize and quite another to eradicate a name."
"This isn't about raising questions. It's about betraying blood," Yaxley said sharply.
"I'm not the one betraying pure blood," Regulus countered sharply in return.
"That's how it looks from this side."
Regulus pursed his lips, holding the stare for a beat before speaking again. "We have been used, all of us. If you feel otherwise, I recommend spending some time thinking about who is losing the most on the the Dark Lord's side of the war."
"I don't take recommendations from traitors," Yaxley said, tapping a finger on his wand in an unsettling manner.
"I think you'll find that is your loss, in the end," Regulus said, fighting to keep his tone even (and more confident than he strictly felt), "but do as you will. I mean what I said about civil debate, but 'you are a traitor' - peppered with threats - is not something I consider to be a valid or compelling argument, so I will excuse myself for the moment."
Yaxley's scowl was darkening as Regulus shifted toward the artifact shopfront, and though he did not think Yaxley would actually curse him right there in the street, it was not until the shop door had closed behind him that he let their locked gaze break.
Despite no longer being under the threat of arrest, Sirius had still found himself on the outskirts of socialising throughout the holiday. He couldn't complain; there was a full moon tomorrow night, and Remus seemed to struggle even more now with the upcoming approach than he had when they were young. Regulus had never been the most social person, so they did their collective socialising in small increments. Harry had his friends, and he didn't want to intrude on that. They'd headed down to Colmon Pier and spent most of the morning doing a wave riding lesson, then tried it for themselves. It wasn't them alone; there were a smattering of other kids, a couple they seemed to vaguely know from school and others that either went elsewhere or were homeschooled.
He could see them from where we was, half running into the water and occasionally tripping one another. The beach was warm enough that he'd consider swimming later, but he made do with a large drink and a view of the trio's shenanigans. No one seemed to be paying them much mind - something he doubted Harry had much experience with - so Sirius was determined to let them enjoy themselves. Everyone was doing their own thing, with a few small children trying to fly brooms or small, winged horses. There was a mixed background of the WWN and what he was pretty sure was Radio One, playing a variety of songs with nonsensical lyrics.
There was a movement behind him. Everytime the adrenalin spiked in his veins, Sirius tried to tell himself to calm down. There would be plenty of time for the fight, but he'd scurried about these beaches or ones like them half his childhood and once or twice when he was old enough for it to be immature. Making a good memory was useful too. Remus had brought news of more dementor attacks, and to his own embarrassment, Sirius was having trouble keeping a corporeal patronus. However, this particular approach required no patronus.
"You could have woken me," Remus said, as he sat down on one of the plastic chairs with an old-man sound.
"I tried," Sirius replied. "You were out for the count."
Remus was glancing around the place, as if everyone could take one look at him and see some bright sign saying 'werewolf' above his head. Thankfully, no one paid him any mind any more than they had Harry. "Any problems?"
"Not since they decided to go stalk Malfoy," Sirius said. He supposed he probably should have said they shouldn't have done that, but he wouldn't have listened at their age. They were about the same age that the lot of them had started guerilla fighting with Death Eaters, so why would he have expected Harry and his friends to be any different?
"You're sure nothing happened with that?" Remus said.
Sirius reached to hand him one of the drinks from the box, which he took gratefully. "I'm sure. By the sounds of it, they were taken for a long walk to nowhere, so Malfoy might have had an inkling he was being followed. Either the boy inherited more from his mother than the tendency to wail at the top of a hat or Harry has about as much subtlety as his father.
Remus cracked a smile. "Or a little of both."
Sirius returned it. "Probably both."
A shift caught his eye, and Harry and Ron launched themselves up to them. Harry downed half a pumpkin juice while Ron, who was beginning to look a little toasty, half threw water on himself. Harry gave him a skeptical look, and if it'd been him, that look meant his friend was about to get mocked. Sirius was a little surprised when he stopped himself. Somehow, Remus still seemed to come under adult territory for them, so they tended to behave a little more controlled around him. Probably a callback to his teaching days.
"No Hermione?" Remus asked.
"She wants to go diving," Harry said, breathlessly. He gestured over to where one of the instructors was indicating some breathing spells.
"Don't fancy it?" Sirius asked.
"Had enough of it with the Triwizard." Harry made a face. "We were going to take the brooms out?" He sounded almost as if he wasn't sure if he was telling them, or asking for permission.
"Try not to go into trees," Sirius said.
Harry huffed at him, amused.
"Don't stay in the sun too long," Remus said.
"We won't," Harry promised. He grabbed a groaning Ron by the arm, and the two of them legged it back up the beach.
Remus turned back to look at him. "Should we move to see the green?"
Sirius shook his head. "It's close enough that if they run into trouble, we'll hear it. There'll be people in Ireland that'll probably hear it."
Remus quirked another smile at him, before settling back into the chair. "I don't know how they can run like that," he said. "Or perhaps I've just gotten old."
"You could still run like that," Sirius said. "Given proper encouragement."
Remus's eyes flew open. "That was not a challenge."
Sirius lifted his hands, and in higher pitched tone, he said, "I know."
Remus narrowed his eyes. "I'm serious."
"I wouldn't recommend being," Sirius replied. "The family situation alone makes being me very awkward."
"I'm too tired for puns," Remus told him.
"Then you must be tired of life," Sirius replied. "It seems like it's one giant, cosmic joke right now."
"Jokes are funny," Remus said, quietly. Then he added, "Not your jokes, but most people's."
"Don't blame my jokes for your shirty sense of humour," Sirius sniffed at him. "Besides, I'm not the one who just warned them not to stay in the sun. You sound like a mum. Not mine, of course, you'd have to be a few more nuts short of the fruitcake for that, but someone who actually gives a damn about their offspring kind of mum."
"I don't imagine Molly will appreciate us returning them resembling lobsters," Remus replied, a hint of defensiveness to his tone.
"No, I guess not," Sirius said.
"Is Harry going back to the Burrow?" Remus asked.
"I'm not sure yet," Sirius admitted. He hadn't asked. Of course, he wanted Harry to stay so he could see more of him before he went to school, but if he wanted to go and play with his friends, Sirius couldn't begrudge that.
"Have you talked to Dumbledore yet? About Lily's sister?" Remus clarified.
"Not yet," Sirius admitted. It was a conversation he was dreading, because he knew they weren't going to see eye to eye on it. But if Harry was only safe there for a couple of weeks a year, and no where else, what was the point of it? He'd be safe at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore himself was the Secret Keeper there. He didn't want to send him to people who didn't want him there for the sake of that, and Harry was old enough now to have a say in his own life and where he stayed. "I haven't seen him."
"You will," Remus said. "An owl came in: usual place, usual time, in four days."
"Meeting?" Sirius inquired, even though he knew the answer even as Remus nodded. "We'll probably pack up and just stay, then. We can't stay out of the game too long."
"Truthfully, I thought you'd be stir crazy for a fight by now," Remus said, sheepishly.
"I am," Sirius said, with a flicker of a grin. "But the last year was absolute shit for everyone. A break is good too."
"There'll be no shortage of fights," Remus replied. "Try to make them all with Death Eaters, and not the Order?"
"I'll do my best," Sirius said, but even at that moment, he was thinking of a certain greasy-haired prick. "But I make no promises."
Then, without warning, he tipped his drink onto Remus' legs. Immediately, Remus squeaked and moved swiftly up and out of the way.
"Sirius!" he hissed at him, trying to wipe it away with the edge of the beach towel.
Sirius shrugged, and went to grab another drink. "See, you can still move pretty fast when you want to."
Twisting and turning her quill in place from side to side over her desk was unlikely to be considered productive by even the most loose definitions, and Emmeline had never been much of a fan of those. Having to vanish the dripping ink every few minutes was already becoming tedious. There was nothing to do. Perhaps not nothing, but nothing that would feel like an accomplishment and nothing that would work towards her socialisation quota for the week. Paperwork done, project proposals submitted, further supplies and input required. She'd already asked for expedition, but Harper had looked at her as if she'd grown another head and instead told her to take some time off if she was done with everything.
Taking time off would mean return visits, owls, fire calls, opening the pile of cards that still sat on the table at Number Twelve. She needed to find somewhere else to live; she didn't like the idea of leaving her life stained all over the Order safe house, or someone's home. In this case, both. She'd made a few inquiries, trying to find somewhere she could feel at home in, but thus far, nothing had felt right. Perhaps it wasn't destined to. Perhaps she ought to rent until You-Know-Who was destroyed, as she might once again lose a place.
Unwilling to go down that rabbit hole, Emmeline made a split-second decision and found herself apparating to Laburnum Gardens. It was a quiet little housing estate, red and cream houses and cars parked by what seemed like every home. Through a set of large black gates, you could find several fenced off garages. If she had any money wagering where Sturgis would be, it was beyond that gate. However, she had not been raised an animal and marched up to Number Two's door. She rang the bell, hoping that the rendition of Auld Lang Syne in July (how it was still July, she had no idea) would alert Sturgis to her presence. He'd never been able to get it to play anything else.
The door opened, much to Emmeline's surprise. Sturgis was, as he often was at home, in what were probably technically pyjamas and barefoot. For someone who tinkered with small parts and was slightly accident prone, she was surprised he didn't get things embedded in his feet more.
"I thought you'd be out the back," Emmeline blurted out, before adding a, "Also, good morning."
Sturgis squinted at her. "It's morning?"
Emmeline turned to the sky. "I think that's the sun, which would indicate as much. I can't give you proof. Am I interrupting?"
"No," Sturgis said, taking a few steps backwards into his hallway to allow her to enter. "You're not at work?"
"You need coffee," Emmeline told him, gesturing to herself.
"I need coffee," Sturgis agreed.
"I'll do it," Emmeline offered, stepping over the clutter to get into the kitchen. The main lights were still broken from the last time she'd been here over a week ago. "We can drink from cups like civilised people."
"S'cuse the mess," Sturgis added, as if she'd ever seen the place without things strewn here, there and everywhere.
"That light needs fixing." Emmeline remarked, when silence followed.
"Yeah, cheers, Mum." Emmeline caught sight of him long enough to see the flush of red hit him. "Sorry."
Was this what it was going to be from now on? Everytime one of their lot tried to talk about their parents, they'd look at her under a scope to see what she would do with it? Regardless of the stab to her chest, she slammed the thought away and gave him a quick glance of displeasure. He shied away from it, and she immediately felt guilty. "Do you have cups?"
"Yeah, I reckon so." Sturgis said, without meeting her eye.
Emmeline put them down on the counter with more force than rather was necessary; she refused to be pitied and handled over something she'd seen happen again and again. At least Mulciber was in jail. The vile boy had become a vile man, and he could bloody rot there for all she cared. She poured the coffee in, and shoved it over to him. "Why aren't you in the garage?"
"I got in late," Sturgis said, swallowing down the hot coffee without so much as a wince.
"Partying all night?" Emmeline tutted.
"Rani had a show," Sturgis said, by way of explanation.
His younger brother had been in the year above Emmeline at school, but she was unlikely to forget him even if she and Sturgis had not met through the Order. Ranulf had, as far as she knew, always been endlessly dramatic. She'd once seen him tear an entire cushion apart at the seams, sending the fluff everywhere, just because he didn't believe it properly expressed the anguish of the scene he'd been working on. Not for a play or anything. He just worked on scenes. Life was a show, at least according to him. It didn't surprise her to learn he'd gone to the WADA, nor that he was still performing.
"Better than the last one?" Emmeline inquired.
"A bit," Sturgis admitted.
He could act, certainly. The problem wasn't talent. The problem was his ability to go into a tone only dogs could hear when he was getting annoyed. As far as Hufflepuffs went, he was rather highly strung. Especially considering Sturgis was the living opposite of that. They had another sibling, Bertie, but he'd gone to Australia back in the seventies. Young children and war were not meant to mix. Others had not been so lucky.
Emmeline forced her mind to a screeching halt in that direction. "Perhaps you can take Sirius along to translate."
Sturgis chucked into his cup, making a gargling noise. Emmeline counted that as a job well done. "He's a bigger snob than you are," he said, as he took the half empty cup away from his mouth. "He wouldn't go."
"You go to the after party?" Emmeline asked.
"Yup," Sturgis nodded.
"You get plastered?" Emmeline added.
"A bit," Sturgis said, before flushing again. A little embarrassed about it, but for no really good reason.
"He'd go," Emmeline said, shortly. "Maybe even I'd go for that."
No matter how much she wanted to huff at him for the look he gave her, she oughtn't. She knew, somewhere down below the icy numb that took over her whenever she thought about that night, that he was trying to be respectful. She was suddenly aware of the fact she had likely done the same thing to him after Azkaban.
"That's not the WWN," Emmeline said, a peace offering and a change of subject.
"Toad the wet sprocket," Sturgis replied.
Emmeline wasn't sure she heard him correctly. "I beg your pardon?"
"The music," Sturgis offered. "Song six on the cassette, so it's by Toad the Wet Sprocket."
"That's the band name," Emmeline took from the context.
"I like it." Sturgis admitted. "It's weird."
"You do like weird things," Emmeline had seen her share of weird things in the Department, but there was a mundanity to this sort of thing. The weird normal, she supposed. She remembered thinking his tinkering with the deconstructed electronics, useless within Hogwarts, was downright peculiar. But he was simply a boy three years older than her then. For a moment, she longed to be back there more than anything. To know they could walk down to the Great Hall and see Marlene, or James pulling one of his stunts, or Lily or Mary. She supposed she could go and see Mary, but what would she tell her? They had fallen out of regular touch, aside from Christmas cards. She'd gotten married, had a career away from the war. A part of her wanted to commiserate about the prick Mulciber had been, but she could feel a humiliating prickle to her eyes at even the thought, and the only thing worse than awkward silences would be awkward mascara running.
"Like your lizard," Emmeline forced out, pushing her thoughts back to Hogwarts.
"Milly wasn't weird," Sturgis protested. "She was a cat."
"She was weird," Emmeline insisted. "She was feral."
"She was a hairless cat," Sturgis shrugged. "She was different."
"What's the point of a hairless cat?" Emmeline made a noise of disapproval. "The point of a cat is it's furry and cute. Otherwise, get a lizard."
Sturgis rolled his eyes at her before glancing at the bulky box where a cassette tape was playing. "I don't like to listen to the radio if I don't have to," he admitted, quietly. "Not since they started on it again."
Emmeline couldn't fault him for that. Bloody Death Eaters ruined everything. "Do you want to show me what you're working on?" she asked, instead.
"Aye, lets go out the back," Sturgis said, putting down the now empty cup.
"Put on shoes," Emmeline insisted. "There's glass outside, and if I wanted to go sit with someone doing themselves an injury, I'd have gone to Tonks's."
"I'm not that bad," Sturgis said, but he was trying not to laugh. She could see it in his eyes.
"No, you're not," she admitted. "Besides, I'd only go and see Tonks if I wanted a serious and depressing discussion. If I wanted to look at misery, I have better places to go. Home, for example."
Sturgis looked caught, and she hadn't meant to put it to him quite that plainly. "Still house hunting, eh?" he said, instead. He still wasn't looking at her, but at least he was treating her half normally by speaking to her.
"Nowhere good," Emmeline replied.
"There's some down here," Sturgis offered, "A little glass aside, it's a very respectable area."
"It's rather not," Emmeline contradicted.
"What's wrong with it?" Sturgis asked.
"There's a convict for a neighbour," Emmeline pointed out. "I've already got that staying at HQ."
For several heart-slamming moments, Emmeline feared she had overstepped a boundary. Neither of them said anything, but then Sturgis finally laughed at her. "Says the Unspeakable," he said. "If Law Enforcement knew half the stuff you get up to down there, you'd get locked up too."
"We're vigilantes," Emmeline deadpanned. "We're all technically breaking the law."
Sturgis raised his empty mug again. "To breaking the law, then."
Emmeline leaned over and clunked the cups together, "Yes. And to one day, not needing to." One day soon, she hoped. Then again, when it was over, what would on earth would she do then? "But possibly still doing so, for harmless fun and social outing purposes."
One of the worst things that you could do with Sirius was leave him to his own devices. He could stir up enough trouble for twenty, given an hour and boredom. However, he was at least attempting to pass himself off as an adult and semi-suitable guardian for a teenager, so this was how Sirius found himself with a morning of absolutely no consequence. Remus had safely volunteered to play escort up to one of the historical castles that Sirius had been to so many times that the thought of going again made him want to carve his own eyes out. Regulus had cleared off, likely buried beneath his longest and least terrible relationship with the books in the little bookshop. Sirius didn't know if it annoyed him more, or less, that everything still seemed stagnant, right down to the bloody bookshop. Nostalgia was one thing, but this felt like a timewarp.
A timewarp where he wasn't as agile as he used to be, judging by the fact that he slammed his hip into the narrow doorway twice. Only once was clumsiness, however. The other was the sound of a deep clanger, the unmistakable sound of a visitor bell that that probably hadn't been used since before he hit puberty. It was the shock more than the sound, though it sounded every bit as ominous as he could dredge from the recesses of his mind.
Maybe Remus had forgotten something; maybe one of Hermione's millions of leaflets had come loose, and she was all a tither over its absence. She was an exceptional young woman, but if she was wound any tighter, she'd bounce. He clambered down the stairs and flicked the door open with his wand, largely because he could.
However, it was not Remus on the other side of the door. It was someone who looked suspiciously like Narcissa, and therefore, probably was Narcissa. "He's not here," he said, before she could utter a word.
Narcissa's face tightened to a pinch as she lifted her chin to peer at him through her nose - a feat, considering he was noticeably taller. "I see you are. I thought you hated this place."
"Every last brick," Sirius replied. It was the first time he could remember seeing her up close since her wedding, though he knew they must have seen each other here, that summer. "But it's where he wanted to be, and if it carries on as horribly as it is, I won't have to do it next year."
"I think it's evident that he doesn't know what he wants," Narcissa said coolly with a brief glance down the alley. "It does not have to be like this, but you are only confusing him."
"Nah, he knows exactly what he wants, and he can't have it," Sirius corrected her. Regulus wanted some mythic idea of what he thought his family would be, and it was something they'd never been. "But he's stubborn and is going to try anyway. I'm just letting him get on with it."
"'Just letting him get on with it?' You can't possibly think it isn't obvious, what you're doing," Narcissa said through a narrow expression.
Sirius shrugged animatedly. "Letting him find out first hand that people would rather grovel before a megalomaniacal prat than deal with his desire not to become a mass murderer? Again?"
"Misrepresenting, as always," she said with a fresh scowl, holding her face with an unnatural tightness. "These ideas you're putting in his head are far more dangerous to him than just leaving well enough alone, but of course, you've never had qualms with prioritizing chaos over what is best for the rest of us."
Sirius could barely contain his snicker. Oh, if only he could have managed to put any of this stuff in his head, but Regulus was a stubborn prick who dug his heels in until he made up his own mind. "I wish I could take the credit, but when he showed up, he informed me that he refused to ever be subservient again. I'm not saying I'm not enjoying his discovery of his backbone. Did you know he's got a set of pipes on him? All these years, I had no idea he was capable of even raising his voice, let alone yelling."
"He isn't acting like himself at all, so although every word out of your mouth sounds like a bold faced lie, I suppose yelling is not the most unbelievable," she said tensely, holding herself a little taller.
Sirius leaned his shoulder against the frame of the door. "He's acting exactly like himself. He's just not willing to compromise at the cost of his soul. I can accept his terms, and if you can't, you can just chalk yourself up to being one more person on the list of the people he loves who puts their own needs above his. We gather for brunch on Sundays, always RSVP."
For a fleeting beat, Narcissa looked almost surprised before she chiseled it away. "Don't compare what I'm doing with what you did. I'm looking out for his safety."
"His safety," Sirius repeated. Who was she kidding? She couldn't possibly be quite that stupid. She had to know that the only safe way out of the Death Eaters was to eliminate their leader, or be forever stuck as his whipping boy or running off. "His safety is Bellatrix calling dibs on his murder? It's forcing Unforgivables on fifteen-year-olds, is it? It's having them murder people without ever knowing why? It's having teenagers incriminate themselves so completely that they can't go to anyone at the Ministry for help or they'll get locked up?" An edge crept into his tone unbidden, but he did nothing to control it. "He wasn't safe; he was so trapped that he thought himself better dead, and you want him to go back to that? You're being selfish."
Narcissa's mouth quivered slightly before she could stop it, and she paused a beat too long before speaking again, voice tight. "Bella promised she would not hurt him."
"She won't," Sirius said, simply. "Until she's told to, then she will. Or she'll have someone else do it, and claim it's for his safety or your safety, or anything really that's not 'didn't worship the ground her master walks on'." He could see it so clearly in his mind's eye that he felt a shiver come down his spine. He pushed the image away." The only safe place for him is never being in the same room as Voldemort, and he traded that safety in to make sure no one had to go through the same shit. Because he didn't want your bloody kid to end up facing the choice to kill or be killed! No one should have to face that choice. If anyone who claims to care about him had pulled him out of the fire, told him he was too young, or that compassion is not shameful, or even that they need to keep him breathing long enough to get his leg over and spawn, then he wouldn't have had to go through hell. If you think you're not as complicit as the rest of us in not protecting him, think again. He may not blame you, but he loves you, so of course he doesn't blame you. He blames himself, like he always does. But you, you're getting a chance at a do-over. Try not to fuck it up this time. Don't trust Bellatrix to look after him, because she's made it clear she'd rather see him dead than put anything above Voldemort - even her own blood."
Once again, an uncomfortable silence seemed to wrap itself around Narcissa's throat, sharpening each point as it landed. "I don't have to stand here and suffer a lecture from the likes of you, of all people," she began after a moment, her tone more brittle than it had been a moment before. "I would not have wished this situation upon him, then or now, but-" She shook her head, seemingly interrupting herself. "I did not come here to talk to you Just pass along to Regulus that I need to speak to him."
Up until now, Sirius had to admit: he hadn't been sure if there really was a ghost of a chance, but he found himself smiling. Not over any ridiculous nostalgia; they had not known each other or liked each other enough for that, but he couldn't deny it would help. She hadn't lost her mind completely. "No lecture, but merely a reminder of what it felt like last time. That was hard enough. I'll pass it along, but don't be surprised if he won't go to you without assurance it's just you. I don't think he enjoyed meeting your son."
With a twinge of suspicion, Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, would you relax. I'm sure he'll end up thinking he's wonderful and can do no wrong," Sirius sighed.
"Hm," she said stiffly. "Of course."
Was it possible she hadn't heard as much from either of them yet? There was absolutely no communication going on that was meaningful at this point. "I'll leave him a message if he's not back," Sirius said, slowly. "Satisfied?"
"Well enough," Narcissa said more firmly, stepping back. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, mouth pursed to a line, but without another word, she lifted her chin and disappeared with a crack.
When Narcissa next saw Regulus no more than an hour later, it was seated under a tree, nose tucked in a book. The image of it was a jarring spectre, a fully grown echo of himself, and she felt her throat tighten again; but whether the tightness was born from nostalgia or from the frustration that Sirius had heard something before she had, Narcissa had yet to determine.
She did not stop to draw him over as she passed, though she thought she saw his eyes flick up from the page for a moment. From the corner of her gaze, Priscilla Yaxley and Ava Parkinson seemed to be trying to pull her aside just a few paces past, looking ready for a spiel. Narcissa could muster no patience for conversation when just a few minutes with the traitor had drained her so. Instead, she pretended not to notice as she apparated back home to the summertime manor.
This felt unfair - all of it. Narcissa hated the feeling of relief that she'd felt when Regulus had the sense to stay where he was, sparing them both the Parkinson tongue. She did not fear them; dramatic goings or not, she yet held more clout than either, but she had grown used to a spotless reputation, and the way the smudges were touching her again had her more on edge than she liked to admit. Guilt, too, prickled at the acknowledgement that Regulus (of all people) could trigger such a feeling; and when the snotty side of her thoughts tried to snip that it was his own fault, she saw in her mind's eye a sixteen-year-old boy, sitting across from her at tea, rubbing at his arm without saying a word until she pulled it out of him. (She'd told him about the peacocks, that day. When he had straightened up, she'd convinced himself he was fine, distracted, strangely interested in her white-feathered lawn birds.)
The way Bella had stepped in to take over had made her a little jealous, at the time - with Evan, too - but the three of them had some grand destiny she had not wished to interfere with. Now, the way Bella was pulling Draco aside made a sick nervousness twist in Narcissa's stomach.
Two ropes tugged, pulling her son and her little cousin away from her in two different directions: her son towards a destiny that would kill him, and her cousin towards a rebellion that would kill him. Regulus had told Sirius about meeting Draco, saying nothing to Narcissa. Draco, too, had said nothing.
(Did her sister know?)
Draco was nowhere to be seen, as was the norm, now. Perhaps he was with his friends, roaming the beach, but she thought he was probably with Bella again, just as he had been the day before, though he said little about that, too - as if she could not figure it out. More than once, she had been tempted to say as much, but she worried it would only make him slip further into the waking nightmare if she were to speak too plainly of his absence.
An hour had passed when a tap on the window drew her attention to a small owl, black and copper and clenching a note in its talons. She was unsurprised to see the note was from Regulus - responding to her request, it would seem. For a passing moment, she considered inviting him to come, but she did not know when Draco intended to return, and she was not ready to approach that without a better understanding of the situation.
They met in the back garden of the Blacks' summer home, instead, following the reassurance that Sirius had since left.
Whether Sirius had prefaced her visit with any air of concern, she did not know, but Regulus's manner had some subtle edge of uncertainty. She wished that she could tell him to relax, but she did not feel particularly relaxed, herself.
"You were seen wandering about with one of your traitor friends - a woman, at that, which you must understand was foolish - and you failed to mention meeting my son," she began, and to his credit, the wince in response was only noticeable because she knew from experience that it was most likely happening. "Which would you like to start with?"
"There is nothing legitimately scandalous about walking," he said. Without leaving room for argument (and her lips were poised for argument, because there very well could be something scandalous in it), he continued with a more apologetic tone. "As for Draco, I did not intend to keep it from you, but he did not take to my presence very well. It's not that I can't recognise the delicate nature of this situation, but I just… wish I could help him."
Closing her mouth to a line, Narcissa watched him for a moment, and some degree of annoyance started to dispel. She had been prepared to defend her child - after all, Sirius had made it sound as though some level of animosity had sparked - but her heart softened again at the earnest look in his eyes.
"I wish I could, too," she said, and more than the guilt, she hated the feeling of helplessness. How proud, her boy looked, and how pleased, like he was trying to stand too tall. "And I wish you would let me help you too. You're being careless, strolling about with a woman, however harmless your intent. You know that." The uncomfortable look on his face confirmed it, even if he kept whatever words he was thinking to himself. "If you must mix with them, be more mindful about it, at the very least."
"It was the outskirts," he defended..
"It's Iago," she countered.
Shaking his head, Regulus's mouth turned down a little at the corners. "She's a friend."
"I don't suppose you intend to say which one?"
"Not if Iago intends to criticise her, no."
It was a fair point, though Narcissa could not help but feel a little grumpy about the evasiveness. "I'm only concerned for you."
"I know you think I'm just trying to make it all worse, and maybe I am making it worse," Regulus began, mouth tugging down more. "It is not what I expected out of life, but that is not always a bad thing. If you decide you want to get out…"
The frown on his face made him look younger - or maybe the stress behind his frown had always made him look a little older. She was deeply uncomfortable with the possibility that he could be more relaxed when he was so blatantly courting ostracisation at best and death at worst, but he was not holding himself like the strung up child she remembered. He could not possibly enjoy the traitors' company that much - not truly. Perhaps his brother's, as he'd been a child prone to sentiment, but he had loathed Potter and the other Gryffindors. He had never reached beyond the friends around him in Slytherin, never shown a modicum of interest. If they were kind to him now, he had to know it was false, yet if he didn't...
Perhaps the confidence in his eyes was an even more frightening prospect.
"I know," she said after a moment. She knew she needed to leave before the madness rubbed off and started sounding like something reasonable.
Upon his return to the summer house, Sirius lingered around the doors for longer than he ought to have. While it was always fun to tempt the fates and wagging tongues to say something, the purpose had been to see the viability of maintaining something with Narcissa while her sister lost what was left of her mind. No matter what his issues were with her, Sirius had no intention of jeopardizing that for Regulus. He wanted to be sure she'd left. When he listened for voices, and heard none, Sirius slipped into the garden.
Regulus was alone, sitting under a patch of shade and absorbed in his book. Nothing unusual there in the slightest. "Is she gone?"
"Yes," Regulus answered, then glanced up.
How informative.
"Did I narrowly avoid weeping?" Sirius asked.
"No weeping," Regulus confirmed, marking the place in his book before shutting it loosely on his hand. "She expressed some concern about my associations and made it clear that she was aware that I did not mention speaking to Draco; but her initial manner led me to expect it was going to be harsher."
"By associations," Sirius started. "Do you mean me?"
"You were not specifically mentioned this time," Regulus said, shaking his head, "but don't worry, she is horrified about you, too. Even so, it wasn't actually the most unpleasant conversation I've had today." Wryly, he slanted his mouth down. "Yaxley approached me this morning, which was the first approach all month, with the exception of Narcissa. As expected, it was not to express supportive sentiments."
Alarm lit a fire in his stomach. "Are you alright?"
"It was an unpleasant conversation, not an attack," Regulus responded, indicating his unmarred frame. "Baiting, for the most part, sprinkled with the air of a threat, but he's a Death Eater, so it's not exactly surprising that he would do so. In hindsight, I was perhaps less polite than I ought to have been, but I don't think he is likely to act on his frustrations immediately." Regulus lifted a shoulder in a small, half-shrug. "All the same, I thought I ought to mention it, in case his annoyance maintains."
Yaxley being a Death Eater wasn't a surprise, but confirmation was still good to have. It struck Sirius as odd for a moment, as he could remember when Regulus returned that he had so carefully omitted any names unless Sirius had brought them up first. He'd put money on it being not wanting to confirm anything they didn't already know. But now he seemed to say it so casually, the distance between himself and the Death Eaters. He wanted to help so openly these days. Sirius had to duck his head to the hide the smile threatening to break out, because he was not at all ready for the mocking that would ensue.
Sirius cleared his throat. "You're only polite when someone is polite to you. It doesn't sound like he was being polite."
"He was not being polite at all, no," Regulus confirmed, expression souring a little. "I told him I was willing to debate it when he muster some civility because I don't find threats to be a compelling argument, but he has not taken me up on it yet."
"Then fuck him, you've got better things to do than cater to the likes of him," Sirius shrugged. He didn't expect many positive reactions, but he couldn't be sure. In terms of being predictable, Iago had delivered exactly what he expected. "Are you alright to pack it in on Thursday? Meeting call went out for Friday, and it's probably better to stay down afterwards to give everyone an idea of the schedules."
"Thursday is fine," Regulus responded with a tip of his head. "Morning?"
"Not early," Sirius scowled, as his brother's idea of morning and his own were two different things. "There was another unauthorised Kiss yesterday, so I'd prefer to blend in as much as we can."
The mention of dementors seemed to catch whatever petty remark Regulus had been intending to return regarding Sirius and early mornings because his expression fell from haughty to a frown. "Consider it noted. Do we know who it was?"
"They weren't magical. Taking their kid to Diagon when they got set on, by the looks of it." Sirius replied grimly. That made the third one in the last few weeks, along with at least two more disappearances. "I'm going to mention Hermione taking some back up when she goes with her own. They're going to be targets."
Regulus frowned, lowering his chin in a slight nod. "That seems like good advice."
"We may just do it as a group," Sirius said, thoughtfully. It might be a bigger target, but more people meant it would be harder for an attack to be successful. Especially somewhere like Diagon. "I think shopping trips will be on hold, at least until we can get a better idea of the movements. We're up to three attacks in Diagon, and five more in London since we left. Time to get back to reality."
Regulus nodded his head, punctuated with a huff. "The Dark Lord's Cause has never been particularly respectful of the holidays. Back to reality, mess that it is."
