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Chapter 24
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"I just, I can't believe it."
Lily Potter fans herself, cheeks flushed and hands resting over the large swell of her belly. She'll be due within the month, Poppy knows it. It's the one thing she can feel in her bones, the one thing that is concrete within this world. The sun rises in the east, Hogwarts teaches magic, Harry James Potter will be born as the Seventh month dies. Poppy's not heard a word of the prophecy but she's hardly part of the Order. She's not 'in-the-know' or someone that needs to be kept in the know, no matter how Moody occasionally pops around to test her reflexes and coo over his godson (not that he'd ever admit it and hadn't Regulus' face been a picture when she'd dropped that one on him?).
Adjusting the sleeping bundle of infant so that he lays comfortably against her chest, Poppy watches her beloved sister with soft eyes, even as she fights to keep a straight face.
Outside, fireworks are still going off, even if it has been more than a day since the news was announced. In fact, the newspaper is still residing upon her coffee table, front page face-up. 'You-Know-Who Dead!' stands out in stark bold writing, a moving picture of the Minster announcing the news below it. There's no body, of course there isn't. Regulus, having read through the dark arts book that contained information on Horcruxes before he set it alight in disgust, had primly informed her that the body would just discorporate in 'death' when there were still horcruxes to hold the users magic and soul to the earth.
A particularly loud pop as her grimacing, checking the sound-cancelling bubble she'd set up over Sol one more time before returning her attention to Lily.
"I suppose James is working overtime on crowd control?"
"Practically every Ministry employee is," Lily confirms, tucking a loose strand of auburn behind her ear, the other hand reaching for her glass of orange juice. She's downing the stuff like it's going out of fashion, claiming it good for Harry (not that Poppy's been told the kid's name yet but she's dead certain of what it'll be).
As her sister finishes off draining her glass, Poppy turns her attention to the hallway, worrying her lip back and forth. She knows that Regulus is playing a dangerous game right now, a balancing act between revealing himself to still be among the living but hiding his past activities as a true Death Eater. For however many weeks he actually was one, that is.
God damn it, why is she worried about him after what they've just pulled off?
"He should be home soon though and he'll worry if I'm not there to meet him." With a great huff of effort, Lily rises from the comforts of Poppy's couch, attempting to adjust her dress so that it falls over her bump in any way other than a crumpled mess. It's an activity undertaken in vain; say what you will about Harry James Potter, but he's clearly going to be a big baby. She does not envy her sister's birthing time, not in the slightest.
"And will Regulus-"
"He'll be back soon," Poppy answers with an eyeroll, getting up herself in order to see Lily to the door. She only lives down the street and the remaining Death Eaters will be too busy trying to figure out what the fuck happened to their leader to bother making their way to Godric's Hollow for the night. That Regulus has worked alongside James to erect wards that alert all of them if a Death Eater other than her… baby's daddy crosses into the village is a great comfort to them both. It's the only reason she's allowing Lily to leave right now.
"I just wish we knew how it happened," Lily gushes, summoning her coat with a flick of her wand, "and who to thank."
At that, Poppy smiles blandly, shuffling her sister out the door and waving her goodbye. The only reason Lily leaves so easily is probably because she's in a state of shock. Like the rest of the Wizarding World. Like she imagines the Death Eaters who sat down to dinner with Lord Voldemort were as he started choking. The fact Malfoy is still among the living after having his master die sat up to his dining room table surrounded by his followers is a testament to his snake-like ways, that's for sure.
"Dolly?"
"Yes, Miss Red?"
"Will you put Sol to bed, please? I'll be up in a moment." The house elf ducks down into a simple bow, accepting her sleeping offspring with a tender look upon her warped features. Poppy watches the little creature carry her son up to bed, her innards warm with an emotion she'd not really dared let herself feel in the past month.
The second they're out of sight, she makes for the under-stairs cupboard, descending down into the basement it now hides beneath. A quiet lumos battles back the darkness of the room, highlighting the absence of anything with the space. Anything other than the corpse of the snake upon the floor.
Squatting down beside the body, Poppy chews her lip as she thinks. Hatching a basilisk had been easy enough, as had entrapping it within her basement. Killing it the moment it'd reached the maturity needed to produce venom had been difficult but necessary and, thankfully, Kreacher had proven a dab hand at extracting poisons. She'd eyed the freaky little house elf suspiciously and he had grinned back, a nasty twist to his features when he had completed his task. He'd probably worn the same expression when he'd magicked the venom into Voldemort's cup, undetected because who would try to kill a Dark Lord using a house elf? Because not even Voldemort had managed to develop an immunity to basilisk venom it seems. And Dark Lords didn't exactly have the healing tears of a phoenix to hand. She hopes the bastard had 'died' choking on his own blood as the venom destroyed his organs, his body, from the inside out.
The only issue with this plan, this temporary reprise from Voldemort is the body.
"Disposing of a basilisk's corpse is far from a subtle act."
"Isn't it funny how you turn up just as my sister leaves," Poppy grouches, turning to look at Regulus. He's standing two steps off the basement floor, hair windswept and dark smudges gracing the pale flesh beneath his eyes. He looks tired, even more so than she feels. She'll begrudgingly give him credit; he has been up for near forty-eight hours by now.
"I'm trying to avoid my own sibling as much as I am yours, Dear."
"Tch. How did it go?"
"Amelia Bones has agreed to plea my case to Crouch, as long as she sees the proof."
"I am not taking Sol anywhere near that Death Eater infested shithole," Poppy snarls, already feeling her magic rise and snap at the very thought of it. Her baby boy, exposed to the dregs of society when he cannot even walk by his own will? Not a chance in hell, even if it will keep Regulus out of prison. They'll just have to find another way.
"I was more thinking a recent magical picture and your presence would be proof enough," Regulus snaps, eyes rolling skywards before they once again turn to look at the baby basilisk corpse, drained of venom and scales not yet hard enough to be worth selling. "As if I would ever dream of allowing my son anywhere near the people that haunt the Ministry." It goes unspoken that their child has not been tainted by the outside world, that all he has experiences is the pure love of his parents, his aunt and uncles. Poppy hasn't let anyone other than immediate family darken her doorstep, even if Regulus' great aunt continues to breathe down his metaphorical neck about getting to see her latest relation. As if Poppy is fool enough to let a Black anywhere near her half-blood child. She'll keep accepting the gifts though because why not?
"We do need to find the other Horcruxes," she murmurs after a pregnant pause has permitted the room, toeing the dead snake with the edge of her slipper. Even now it's heavy, preserved under spells so that it may not begin to smell of rot. Sure, she has a basement for all her dirty dealings, but like hell is she going to let it become something out of a murder movie enthusiast's wet dream.
"And as soon as I can move about in society, then we can get right on that," Regulus drawls, closing up the distance between them in a series of slow, steady strides. Poppy watches him approach with narrowed eyes, placing her hand in his when silently he requests it. His thumb brushes back and forth across her first knuckle, silver eyes almost fixated on her hand. It's a little weird, in all honesty and she waits for the other shoe to drop.
"Marry me."
"No."
"What, why not!" Regulus' grip on her hand tightens and Poppy sneers, nails gracing the back of his hand in a wordless threat.
"Why should I?" At that, Regulus flounders, looking as if the very thought of rejecting had never even crossed his mind. It should have done; he should know her too well by now but it seems she can still catch him flat-footed.
"Why on earth wouldn't you? If not for yourself, then for Sol. The Black name could offer him protection, status-"
"And paint a massive target upon his back given the tale you will be spinning to Bones in the morning."
Regulus' teeth grind together, the monsoon gathering in his eyes and Poppy tips her head back, stepping closer so that she can feel the energy that pours off him.
"As if the Evans name will do anything different, given your sister and her tendency for unacknowledged vigilante justice," Regulus sneers and Poppy's smile sharpens, one hand wrapping up in the robe Regulus wears.
"Just tell the truth, Regulus. Why do you want me to marry you?" Because that's not all of it. She's dealing with a Slytherin here; there's always going to be a hidden agenda. And, true to her Hufflepuff ways, she's going to be the one to uncover it.
"Sol will inherit nothing from me should I die; it'll all be absorbed into the Black vault unless he is claimed as my son. And-" Regulus cuts off, nose scrunching up as he glances away, a sharp frown marring his angelic features, one lock of dark hair tumbling free to frame the aggressive cut of his cheekbone. "And my family is made up of marriages of alliances. What we have is more than what most of my relatives have ever experienced with one another- certainly more volatile." Here, he laughs, bitter and cutting, even if his eyes are alight with something Poppy hadn't been expecting to see accompany a marriage proposal. "This is more than what I was raised to expect, Poppy." And the use of her name is jarring, a slap of cold rainwater to the face.
She tucks that half curl back behind his ear, but not before giving it a little tug.
"Tell you what," she mutters, reaching up on tiptoes so that their noses are brushing, her lips a hairsbreadth from one another, "ask me again once this shitshow settles down. I won't call a prisoner husband."
"Ultimately, you want me to prove I can get out of a tight spot."
"I want a useful husband," she confirms, thumb tracing the curve of his jawline, teeth scraping at his bottom lip before she steps back and away. "But right now, I want something to come and crawl into bed with me. Hopefully, when we wake up, the idiots will have run out of fireworks to set off." Because having to reapply that sound-proofing charm was growing tiring. You'd think they'd be over it by now and be getting on to picking up the pieces of their lives now that Voldemort was 'dead'.
"Sounds ideal," Regulus murmurs, his agreement soft and she's once again reminded of the dark smudges that reside beneath his eyes. They'll get some rest and then take on the world together in morning…
There might be something to Regulus' 'marriage alliance' point after all.
I don't have much of an excuse. Enjoy the update?
Tsume
xxx