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Chapter 13
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She's with Lily when she hears the news; toes wet with an eye-searing shade of yellow.
"Potters! You home!?"
They both jump in surprise at the face in the fire, Lily swearing as she spills the pot of Gryffindor red she'd been tending to her own toes with. It bleeds across the sofa, glistening brilliantly in the light and Poppy watches it with detached interest. Hey, she can't go chase it, she's pregnant after all. Or, that's the excuse she's using.
The dirty look Lily shoots her tells her the elder witch knows it's an excuse just as much as she does. Oh well. It's a valid excuse, so Lily can say nothing.
"Yes, Moody, we're here."
"Who's we?! What's your security question, Evans?!"
Poppy snickers quietly into her hand, relaxing further back on the sofa with a content sigh, utterly engrossed with the head in the fire.
Mad Eye Moody. Only, without the Mad Eye, as of yet. Can't be long until he gets it though, can it?
"I'm going to go grab a bite while you deal with Paranoia over here," Poppy muses, slowly rising to her feet, hand on her belly as if the gesture would offer any substantial support.
Green eyes stare after her as she leaves, like this has been a significant betrayal or something. When it comes to crazy Aurors though, it's every witch for herself.
Especially when she's carrying 'Death Eater spawn', as Moody would no doubt put it.
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Five minutes since the flaming head of suspicion appeared in the fireplace, and three bananas later, Poppy returns to the living room to find Moody still present, a scowl on his face and the chunk in his nose already missing.
"And who's this?!" He barks, eyes roving over her form, taking in the same brilliant red hair, the same vibrant eyes, even if the colouring does differ there.
"I'm Lily's evil twin," Poppy mutters sarcastically, rolling her eyes skywards as she drops onto the sofa, teeth guillotining the edge from her fourth banana. Lily grimaces in the background, no doubt disgusted by her blatant lack of table manners but Poppy's pregnant and has zero cares.
Besides, it's Moody that's interrupted their night, not the other way around.
"Your little sister, Evans?"
"It's Potter, if anything Poppy should be the Evans here."
"I'd rather be Evans than married to a bumbling fool like Potter. He's probably no idea what a 'precautionary measure is'." Not like Regulus, who has plans behind plans. She knows he only went for the Horcrux to atone for following a man made enough to mutilate his soul, that he couldn't see any other way than death. Because he cares too much for Kreacher to force the house elf to die in his place.
Poppy smiles at the thought, curling the left curtain of red hair behind her ear.
"Well, what news do you have for us, Moody? I think you can be certain my muggleborn sister isn't working for You-Know-Who, Moody."
"Can never be too careful in these times, Evans. Let's get a look at you then; bit fierce for a 'Puff, aren't you?"
Drumming up her best copied-from-Regulus sneer, Poppy sinks back into the sofa and folds her arms mutinously across her belly, scowling at the Auror who grins back unrepentantly.
"Someone just tried to seriously kill the Dark Bastard."
"What?!"
Moody nods, his grin now savage and proud. He looks exceptionally pleased, regardless of the fact there's a 'tried' in that sentence.
"Didn't manage to off the bastard, but reports say it was a near thing. Soon as he's recovered the bastard's no doubt gonna hunt the perpetrator down and we need to find him before then."
"Find him and pin a medal on him?" Poppy hazards a guess, the approval in Moody's eyes all too easy to read.
"If I had my way, girl, we'd have been trying something like that months ago. It's Dumbledore that says he should be brought to justice." And that is where they differ.
Lily would side with Dumbledore on this matter, but Poppy, Poppy's much more inclined to agree with Moody. Fuck paying for his crimes, Voldemort fears nothing more than death; that'd be exactly what he deserved. Moody's on the same wave length as her; this is war, and in war, you do whatever it takes to win.
And then, an idea strikes.
"Say, if certain pregnant muggleborn witches were wondering how to build up a resistance to the Imperius curse, would certain paranoid Aurors be willing to help?"
Fluttering her eyelashes at the warrior before her, Poppy relaxes further into the cushions at her back, smiling up at Moody as his grin turns manic.
"Certain paranoid Aurors would be pleased to see the younger generation practicing constant vigilance!"
Even though she had an incline it was coming, the phrase still makes her jump as it's bellowed at the top of his lungs.
Lily gives her the stink eye but Poppy couldn't care less. She needs this.
It's been weighing on her mind ever since she started considering how to get at the Horcruxes protected by Malfoy and Lestrange. Both seem too strong willed (or at the very least, terrified of disappointing their master) for her to risk using the Imperius Curse on them. Should Voldemort so much as get a hint that someone was on to him, those Horcruxes would be out of her reach faster than she could say 'Quidditch'.
But that'd brought up another point.
The Imperius Curse is a problem for her too. Poppy isn't so sure of her ability to resit it, which means she needs to work at it. And who else would she trust than the paranoid Auror before her?
"Poppy, you can't be serious-"
"Better to have and not need, then to need and not have, Lily," Poppy recites, eyes still on Moody, which is why she doesn't miss the approving nod he gives her.
And that's settled; she'll be getting Imperius lessons from Mad Eye.
If it's a good idea or not, Poppy doesn't know, only that she needs it.
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"I can't decide if you're a wicked delight or a complete fool!"
Regulus sits upon the floor of his safehouse, copious notes littering the wooden boards around his hunched form, quill in hand as he tries to figure out where exactly it'd gone wrong.
Had he not gone in with enough firepower? Had it taken too long to charge up? Had the trigger of Voldemort and Voldemort's presence alone derailed the runic combination? Runes has never been his greatest strength (Evans had him beaten out there, as she had with any other subject but astronomy and transfigurations) yet Regulus thought he'd gotten enough of an understanding to use them efficiently. To use them effectively.
But Riddle still lives. Even if he is on the extra crispy side right now, that's something magic can fix. Eventually.
He'll have to come up with a completely different plan of attack this time as well, because now Riddle'll be expecting another explosive attack. He'll be expecting another attempt on his life. He's lost the element of surprise now. And he really could do without Aunt Cassiopeia scolding him like a child.
"Aunt-"
"No! Don't you dare 'aunt' me, Regulus Arcturus Black! I am here to act as your sounding board, to help you when you need it because there's no one else to reach out to for you. Family sticks together, child, and you would do well to remember that." Cassiopeia gives him one final stern stare before she sweeps out of the room, robes billowing behind her.
The fireplace in the backroom ignites but he can't find the energy to be too bothered by his aunt effectively storming out on him. He has, after all, bigger and more important things to spend his time thinking over.
Yet, he still finds himself thinking of Evans, still puzzling over the conundrum of blood when he should be focused on taking Riddle out.
It doesn't matter that the only woman who has ever interested him is no longer off limits.
No, that's not quite the way to put it. She'd never been 'off limits' to begin with; it was more than just his silly prejudice, a mindset forced upon him from a young age, that stopped things from continuing further than they did.
Given the current political climate, his family background, announcing themselves as a couple would have been suicidal a move. In the very least, he can thank the pureblood agenda for that.
Even now, it doesn't change the fact muggleborns are so ridiculous ignorant to the world in which they come into. They assume that because they remain in the same country that the culture is the same. They don't understand that the magical world has been a separate state since the Statue of Secrecy was implemented, that hundreds of years with minimal interaction have resulted in their two worlds developing different cultures, different rules.
That alone is shown in the gender equality that the wizarding world has boasted of for so long.
Evans never cared for any of that, but it had never been about disregarding the culture she came into. Perhaps she'd looked into it, but had she, Regulus gets the feeling Evans' has found some of their ways unnecessary and just dismissed them completely.
That seems just like her, and he doesn't even try to stop the fond smile. He doesn't know what they are- no wait, they aren't anything right now.
He's just Regulus and Evans if off doing whatever Evans does in her free time. She'll have finished Hogwarts now, won't she? He doesn't doubt she'll have got the best scores of their year, to the envy and anger of his former housemates. The thought pleases him. Those idiots who follow so thoughtlessly.
Not to say Regulus himself wasn't one of them until very recently. He's not blind; he's well aware it's not just down to his own intelligence but due to Riddle's arrogance that he managed to figure out the Horcrux existed.
But that is gone now, a charred shell of what had once been famous history. Regulus had been sad to see it go, but the locket had to be destroyed. Another crime to lump upon Riddle's head, as if he did not already have enough of them.
He needs to be taken care of soon. The sooner he sorts out the issue of Riddle, the sooner he can deal with his Evans issue.
Because he's not content with how things are right now. He doesn't even know what they had before, cannot find the words to describe it.
But it was more than this.
Evans had interested him, still does interest him; his blood races and most of the time she drives him to madness until they both find themselves at wand point.
But fuck it if he doesn't miss those hands roaming over his body, the way her lips had always lifted in that taunting smirk whenever she'd gotten to orgasm before him and left him high and dry.
That one tender moment when she's brushed the hairs back from his forehead with an expression unlike any other he had seen on her face.
Fuck, he has no idea what they were, what they were close to becoming before they'd both stepped away from that cliff edge.
But now he's wishing he'd taken that jump, that he'd figured out what possibly could have been, damn the consequences.
The regret is pooling in his stomach because he might not have been able to see how deep the ocean had been, might not have been able to see if there were any rocks waiting beneath the surface to shatter him, but it had promised a delicious refreshment that he hadn't thought he needed.
Not until he finds himself back on the safe path and sweltering in the heat, looking back in the direction of the cliffs and wondering if Evans is thinking about returning to that drop too.
Here you go. Enjoy and thank you all so much for all the lovely review; I read and adore every last one of them.
Thanks for reading,
Tsume
xxx