A/N: This chapter is a pretty dark. The next chapter will be entirely focused on Vivian and Sirius though, so I'll be making up for the lack of Sirius scenes…and there will mostly like be smut as well so people can look forward to that. Will add a chapter warning if it ends up going there for those who aren't a fan of reading smut.

Just to get a general consensus of everyone's thoughts on the current direction of the story: what do you guys think of Vivian's latest decisions/actions? Are there any characters you want me to focus more on (like Gavin etc) or any particular scenes you want to read? I do of course have an outline I'm working from, but I want to make sure the story is engaging, so let me know if you guys have any thoughts. Tbh I'm still trying to recenter myself with writing this since it's been so long, so I thought I'd ask!

Hope you all enjoy. I'll see everyone next Sunday for the next update!

Chapter Twenty One | Ante mortem

[Before death]

Vivian has been here before. This is not new for her, nor can she claim to be overly surprised when she discovers that Adrian's guest is in fact a poor muggle who had likely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The moment Adrian takes her arm and pulls her away from the party, she knows exactly how tonight will end. Death already hangs in the air, premature as it is. She can already sense its swift and merciless arrival. She knows, before they even reach their destination, that it is coming. More than that, she knows that she will be the one to wield it.

Regulus had saved her, before. Regulus had bloodied his hands to allow her to keep whatever trace of innocent virtue still existed within her. But Regulus is not here, this time. There is no one to step in on her behalf. She will have to do this without his help.

Vivian knew full well that this was a possible outcome of the evening. She isn't the same naïve girl she used to be, back when she was adamantly turning a blind eye to the reality of her father's ties with the Dark Lord. Still, she had been hoping to avoid this somehow. Hoping that perhaps Adrian himself would test her spell, so that she wouldn't have to. This desire to pass on the responsibility isn't new to her, either, if she's being honest.

"Let go of me," Vivian hisses at him as he pulls her down the hallway. Behind them, the sound of the gala can yet be heard. The music and voices seem eerie now, the noise little more than a haunting echo through the house.

Adrian grumbles, "Fine."

He releases his hand from her arm and glances over to send her a look. The edge of a warning is pressed within his eyes, but Vivian merely curls her mouth at it and continues marching forward. She doesn't need him to threaten her or tell her not to run off. She just wants to get this over with.

He leads her through the darkened house. They see no one on their way save for a handful of couples looking for a bit of peace of quiet in the rooms closer to the party. They don't seem to notice Adrian or Vivian's passage. They are little more than shadows, easily overlooked.

Adrian leads her down several narrow corridors likely used by servants. He doesn't stop until he reaches a long hallway further off, whose walls of made of stone. Vivian has never walked this deeply into the Mulciber manor before, but she can suspects that the door at the end of the hallway leads into one of the gardens. Judging from the wheel barrows and other tools, this space is likely used by the gardeners. For a moment, Vivian assumes that they will be heading outside…but then Adrian turns and walks to another door just off to the side, and those assumptions are dashed.

Upon following him through the threshold, Vivian realizes that they are actually going into the lower corridors of the manor. Her heart gives a jittery little shake as she begins to descend the stone staircase. Everything is made of stone, the floors, the walls – her shoes click upon the flagstones as Adrian guides her deeper into the bowels of the manor. They go down several more hallways, winding ever further into the labyrinth, before they finally come to a halt in front of a closed door in the middle of the hallway.

These corridors would have housed the servants' rooms, at one point. At the zenith of their power, families such as the Mulcibers would have had human servants primarily, until house elves began to become favorable due to the magical constraints that could tie them to a family. These cold, winding rooms would have been the servants' sleeping quarters, or were used as storage rooms and root cellars. In any case, tonight they have another purpose entirely.

It is difficult to describe Vivian's emotions as she steps into the room. Adrian is on her heels, and the sound of the door closing behind them rings loudly through the silence. So does the frightened sound of the blindfolded muggle kneeling in the center of the room, his hands bound behind his back and a thick black strip of fabric tied around his face. As such, his features are hidden from her save his trembling mouth. He looks dirty, as if Adrian had taken him off the streets; some unknown vagabond that no one will notice has gone missing, perhaps. She studies him for a long moment, standing stiffly just beyond the door. Her heart gives out a quiet lurch of dread before it settles into some cold place within her chest where she pushes it into silence.

Yes, it is difficult to describe what she feels. It is a strange sort of numbness that pervades her now. Her disquieted anticipation is doused now that she is here. In times past, the anxious roil of her stomach had been ceaseless, but now it is oddly absent. She feels resigned, almost, to what is about to happen, as if she can no longer allow herself to be surprised by the horror of it.

Is this what happens? Does a person become immune to such cruelty after a while? It is strange how the thought of this frightens her more than anything else at this moment. More than Adrian's imposing figure as he steps into the empty space beside her. More than the final, gasping breaths that the muggle is inhaling or the muttered pleas that they take mercy upon him. Even more than the way Adrian turns to look at her and says, "We shouldn't take too long, Vivian. People might start to wonder where I've taken you."

The double-edged meaning in his words hardly even makes her bat an eye, though she would have found insult in it had he said this only minutes before. Now that she is here, though, the thought of people assuming the worst between her and Adrian seems trivial at best. She brushes his words aside and scoffs a little beneath her breath, shooting him a look that is tainted with irritation, because she knows that's what he expects to see.

He also expects fear. She knows that, too, which is why she is trying not to give it to him.

"Well then, go on," she tells him coldly. "Like you said, we don't have all night."

This final attempt at handing over her fate amuses him. His eyes glimmer with it as he slips his hands into his pockets and peers down at her. She knows before he even opens his mouth that the attempt won't work.

With a snort, Adrian murmurs, "You know what you have to do."

She tightens her jaw. She does know, and she wonders if it's worth it. Is stripping herself of her remaining innocence a justifiable sacrifice to make, just to help the Order? Would any of them do the same? Is she doing this to help her friends, or because she believes it is some wayward part of her path that must be completed? She wonders if Sirius had been right after all. That she shouldn't have come. She doesn't need to prove herself to him.

These hurtling doubts are pushed away before they can well and truly alter her decision, though. She's already made up her mind and there's no going back now. Adrian would never allow it even if she were to try. Besides, she's already come this far. She can't back out without seeing it through…

It is so easy. That's the part about it that shocks her the most. That is hardly takes any effort at all. Just two words murmured beneath her breath; a slip of sound hardly audible at all, flowing into existence and wreaking such devastating effects.

She reaches for her wand and lifts it, pointing it at the muggle who is now bowed over, muttering something that sounds like a prayer at the cold stone floor. She hesitates for only a moment. She tells herself that it's because she wants to allow the man to finish his prayer – that it is the only mercy she can give him – but really, it's because her hand is shaking, and she doesn't want her voice to shake along with it.

"Avada Kedavra," she finally whispers. Her voice is no louder than a breath, and yet the effect of it is instantaneous, and harrowing.

She feels almost as if she has stepped outside of herself as she watches the room fill with a flash of vibrant green light. It takes all of a moment for the man to fall back, sprawling into a grotesque position on his side, his knees bent at an odd angle. His head hits the floor with a crack. She finds it vaguely disturbing that it is the loudest sound in the room.

Her hand begins to shake again, so Vivian lowers it, holding her breath now as she swallows back a thick wave of – something. She can't identify it. It's something dark and treacherous and it makes her feel strange, but she pushes it down for now. She can't afford to feel it. She has to maintain her numbness.

At her side, Adrian murmurs, "The spell, next."

Vivian doesn't react to his quiet prompting for another moment or two. She clenches her fingers around her wand and releases her pent-up breath. It blusters past her lips with a certain disquieted energy that almost feels like resignation.

The spell. Right. She refocuses, trying to bring herself back into her body. She still feels far away, like a wisp of a ghost. She can't afford to feel that, either. She needs to be present.

"…Vivicendium," she says, lifting her wand once more.

It is the same spell, the same pronunciation. It flows from her lips with more of that resignation. Unlike before, though, a bright blast of reddish orange light weaves through the air from the tip of her wand and gathers itself into the man's chest. At the last moment before the spell ends, she flicks her wand, and directs the orange light up the man's throat and into his head. His skin glows for one tremulous second, as if a light is shining through muscle and veins, before all is silent.

Until the dead man comes back to life, of course.

Vivian wrangles down the dull echoes of the horror she feels as she watches the man move to prop himself up. His movements are eerily robotic, made more so due to his bound hands. His limbs are jerky as he pushes himself first onto his elbows and then onto his knees. Then, at last, he stands up at his full height. His feet plant themselves a foot apart as though he is standing at attention in a military line.

Adrian strides forward to cut the ties that bind the man's wrists together, freeing him. Then he grasps the black cloth covering the man's face and unties it, allowing it to drop onto the floor. He startles back, though, when the man's eyes open. He is clearly not expecting to see them glow with that orange light. The spell hadn't had that kind of effect before. Not even Vivian is anticipating it. Together, they both stare at Vivian's creation in varying degrees of unease and awe.

"…I've got to hand it to you, Blair, I'm impressed," Adrian breathes to her.

She doesn't answer. She's not sure she can. It doesn't matter, though. Adrian doesn't appear to even notice.

"Come here," he orders, still staring at the Inferi with that expression of subdued awe. The very moment the command leaves his lips, the man steps forward, shuffling awkwardly as if his undead mind cannot fully recall how to move his muscles.

A lurch of something sick hits Vivian hard in the chest. She is beginning to feel as though she is no longer drifting somewhere just outside of her body. Her hands begin to shake again.

With a curious look blazing through his eyes, Adrian reaches into his dress robes to pull out a small pocket knife. She turns to watch as he pulls the blade open before handing it to the Inferi. The creature does not reach forward to take it. He merely stands there stock still, about a foot away from Adrian, and stares ahead with glowing, pupilless eyes.

"Take it," Adrian softly commands, flipping the knife over so that he is holding onto the blade, the handle extended towards the Inferi.

The Inferi takes it.

"Now slice your wrist open," Adrian says, to Vivian's horror.

Swallowing thickly, she begins to murmur, "Adrian, what are you – "

Before she can finish her shaky question, the Inferi turns his wrist over, presses the blade against it, and slashes down. Vivian stares at the river of blood that immediately begins to flow, dripping onto the dirty stone floor. A queasy expression takes hold of her at the sight. Adrian, though, only watches with a cold and almost clinical expression, humming curiously beneath his breath.

"…Fascinating," he murmurs.

Vivian is starting to feel annoyed now. Over the press of fading shock and numbness, her heart is beating hard within her chest. She feels sick. She wants to leave.

"What is so fascinating about a man bleeding?" she demands, her voice shakier than she'd like. There's nothing for it, though. She doubts she's be able to speak calmly even if she tried.

At her side, Adrian laughs at her question and sends he a sidelong look. "Well, the last one didn't. We did quite a few tests on it after you took your leave." He doesn't seem to notice the way her face is growing paler by the moment. He only shrugs and adds, "This one is almost…human."

She feels like she can't fill her lungs properly. She can't breathe.

"The Dark Lord will be very pleased with you, Vivian," Adrian tells her, reaching forward to take his knife back. He pries it from the Inferi's dead hands and wipes the blood onto the man's shirt. Then, slipping the knife back into his robes, he points to the corner of the room and says, "Sit there until I return. Don't move and don't leave this room."

The Inferi makes no indication that he had heard the order, save of course for the way he jerkily turns and marches to the corner. A moment later he is sitting down, and Adrian is glancing back at Vivian with a grin.

"And here I thought you were just making it all up," he purrs at her, reaching over to push away a strand of her hair that had fallen from its elaborate style. His mouth quirks up a bit higher when she flinches at the touch.

Voice even shakier than before, she mutters, "Why would I lie about something this important? I don't have a death wish."

In any other instance, those words would have been uttered with a sarcastic darkness, likely sneered at him with narrowed eyes. As it is, Vivian is finding it rather difficult to look away from the glowing eyes in the corner, and her voice is distracted as a result. The sound of it is wispy and frail. There's no bite behind her words.

Adrian hums, studying her silently. When he doesn't say anything, Vivian wrenches her eyes away from the disturbing sight of the Inferi to look at him. She hates to think what he sees in her right now. She knows full well that she isn't striking a very strong figure. She probably looks as weak as she feels.

"…We should head back to the party," he says after a long moment. His expression is difficult to read, and so is his voice. There's something there, tucked beneath his eyes, that looks different from the amused smugness of before. It isn't the awed expression he had worn when viewing the results of her spell, either. Rather, it contains within it some trace of regret, or contrition, perhaps. She can't imagine why he would feel that way, though. Perhaps the dim lighting of the room is playing tricks on her. Vivian doesn't know. All she knows is that she doesn't want to return to the gala upstairs.

Unfortunately, that is exactly what she has to do.

Her and Adrian make their way back through the winding stone corridors of the lower levels, then back up into the manor itself. They appear to be taking a different route this time, for the halls that Adrian leads her through are not the same ones they took before. She doesn't comment on it and merely follows after him. She is stuck somewhere between two opposing emotions – the numbness and the horror – and she needs to get a handle of them before she returns to the party. It wouldn't bode well for her to be so out of sorts in a room full of the Dark Lord's supporters. It's difficult, though. It's as if she is grasping at straws, hardly even understanding what it is that she's feeling at all. There's this strange gaping feeling pervading her. She feels empty and full all at once, as if she has lost some piece of her and is being infused with something new, something that seems foreign and out of place.

"Snap out of it, Blair," Adrian tells her as they step closer to the party. The sound of the music can be heard now, and she knows they're close. She also knows that, if Adrian can see the struggling conflict within her, then everyone else will be able to, as well.

"I'm trying," she croaks at him, wanting to get him off her back. She doesn't even care how weak her voice sounds. She doesn't care about anything but trying to reintegrate herself, but it seems an impossible task. She feels like a puzzle that has been shaken loose, all its pieces scattered and bent out of shape.

Adrian releases an impatient sigh and drags her to a stop, pulling her around to face him. He leans over her to grip her shoulders and squeeze them, as if he's trying to impart some twisted sense of reality into her. All it does is draw her attention to his imposing figure, though. There is no sense of comfort to be found here, not that she had expected any. There never has been, with Adrian Mulciber. He has ever been a thorn in her side, prodding her until she bleeds – bleeds like that man's wrist, dripping blood upon the floor –

"Vivian, you're about to step into a room full of people who would absolutely love to see you in this state," Adrian tells her then. "Do me a favor and don't give them the satisfaction."

His voice is strange again. She blinks up at him, mouth twisting into a frown, and huffs, "Why the hell would you care, Mulciber? You've never cared about me before."

He snorts at her and mutters back, "You're acting pathetic. I'm trying to repair my reputation, not ruin it even more."

Ah, right. Now they're back on solid ground. Him looking down at her, her hissing insults at him – yes, this is how it ought to be.

"You know, I could have protected you from all of this," he says then, and the solid ground they had momentarily returned to drops away.

She stares at him. Adrian stares back. The look is back in his eyes, the one she can't quite figure out. It blazes quietly at her through the dimness of the hallway; a subtle feeling of baffling regret slicing through his gaze.

"…You, protect me?" she repeats, her voice full of scorn.

He smiles humorless at her and studies her for another long moment before responding, "If you were my wife, I could have kept you out of this. I would have had a say in what the Dark Lord asked of you. You should have thought of that, before you decided to be stubborn about the whole thing." He tilts his chin up a bit and adds, "Your loss, I guess. I'm not in the habit of handing out second chances."

Despite his baffling words, Vivian feels some part of herself return in the wake of them, and she sneers, "Please. You would have paraded me around and thrown me to the wolves, Adrian. Don't act like you're some great hero or something."

He doesn't say anything to that at first. Instead, he just lifts an eyebrow at her and scoffs in the back of his throat, releasing her shoulders. Then, laughing a bit, he dryly tells her, "You like to think you know me so well, don't you? Contrary to what you believe, Vivian, family means something to me. I wouldn't have thrown my own wife into the middle of this unless she damn well wanted it."

Vivian furrows her brow, staring at him. She's not sure to what say to that. She's not sure what to say at all, really, so she just stands there until Adrian shakes his head impatiently and takes her arm, apparently done with their little heart to heart. He slips her hand into the bend of his elbow and strides forward, intent on returning to the party.

"Smile, Vivian," he tells her as he reaches the door that will lead them back into the center of the gathering. He sends her a little smirk as he opens it and murmurs, "I wonder how worried Reggie is."

This little amused comment makes Vivian frown at him, but she rearranges her expression the moment they step through the door. No one seems to notice their reentrance at first – there are a lot of people here, after all – but Vivian can hear a few murmurs as Adrian pulls her across the room. Their dance hadn't helped to quell the gossip she knows is spreading about them, and the way Adrian is tightly grasping her hand where it sits on his arm isn't, either. She can't pull away, though. His grip is all but locked onto her, keeping her firmly in place.

In the wake of the last half hour, Vivian had completely forgotten about Regulus. She has been much to focused on trying to recenter herself to worry about him, but it becomes clear that the sentiment isn't shared.

"Where were you two?" is the first thing out of his mouth when Adrian and Vivian reappear. He all but shoulders his way up to them, his iron eyes cast with a storminess that he directs at Adrian, though only after flicking his eyes over Vivian as if to ensure that she's in one piece. His jaw is clenched when he mutters, "People have been talking."

Adrian looks delighted to hear this.

"Have they?" he asks, turning his head to shoot Vivian a smug little grin. His voice is full of innuendo when he murmurs, "I wonder what they've been saying, Vivian."

She purses her mouth at him and all but rips her hand from his arm. This time, he lets her, looking more amused than angered. The reason for this isn't only because of her irritation, though.

"Mr. Blair, how lovely to see you tonight," Adrian suddenly says, and Vivian freezes.

"Adrian. A pleasure as always," says the stern voice of her father. "…Vivian. You decided to come after all. I half expected you to decline Adrian's invitation."

Vivian turns to face him, trying to compose her expression. She meets his eye with a blank smile and responds, "Not at all. I was looking forward to attending."

It's so strange. She's never been close with her father. There's always been a sort of disconnect between them, even when she was still trying to fit into the mold of the ideal pureblood daughter. Now, though, it feels as though there is a gaping sea pressed into the space between him and her, uncrossable and obscure. She feels nothing at its presence, no hint of grief at it having formed, but it still gives her pause. Perhaps it is simply because she feels so out of her depth tonight. She is still trying her very best to press her emotions away, to douse them lest they overtake her. She is not yet out of harm's way, after all, and whatever it is she feels towards her father right now is not something she currently needs to figure out. What she needs to do is hold fast to her pretenses for now, and ignore everything else.

"From the pleased look on your face, Adrian, I take it everything went well," Lukas Blair says, eyeing Adrian for a long moment before flicking his eyes back to his daughter. He smiles his usual dour smile and explains, "Adrian informed me of the agenda tonight."

Vivian swallows thickly. She casts a quick glance at Regulus, whose expression is shrouded and masked. From the stiff way he's standing, she reckons he'd like nothing more than to drag her away from this conversation, but he dares not get involved. Instead, he waits, watching as Vivian nods and sends her father a passive look.

"It went very well. I'm sure Adrian will be happy to tell you all about his…experiments," she blandly replies. She can't quite hide the grimace that overtakes her when she thinks of the Inferi slitting his own wrist.

Adrian hums in amusement at her reaction and slips an arm around her shoulders with an indulgent, "Yes, Vivian was fantastic tonight. Your daughter is truly talented."

Vivian would have to be blind not to notice the way her father's eyes flash hopefully as he studies the manner in which Adrian tucks her into his side – and the exaggerated fondness in Adrian's voice, for that matter.

"I'm glad to hear that she's exceeded your expectations," her father says, lifting an eyebrow. He sends Vivian an unreadable look and murmurs, "I believe you should come to the house for dinner this week, Vivian. I would very much like to discuss things with you, and your mother would be pleased to see you again."

She should be happy with this invitation, cold as it is. Getting back into her family's good graces will only help her to get one everyone else's good side, too. But instead, Vivian only feels a strange sense of hopelessness catch her in the chest. This was what she wanted, so why does it feel as though she is digging her own grave?

"…I'm sure I can come up with a feasible excuse," she faintly replies, scrounging for something to say, trying to remember all the little lies she has thus far planted…

Her head feels like its spinning again, and the sick feeling is fast returning, roiling through her stomach with a vengeance. Glowing orange eyes stare at her every time she blinks.

Lukas curls his mouth a little and hums, "You mean an excuse for the blood traitor you're currently toying with, I suppose. Yes, we will be discussing that, as well."

The sick feeling grows.

"Vivian," Regulus suddenly blurts, "you promised me a dance, before."

She sends him a vague smile, feeling faraway. Adrian lifts an eyebrow at Regulus, while her father merely sends the younger boy a glance as though he had quite forgotten he was there at all.

"I would like to view Vivian's latest spectacle, Adrian, if you're not adverse to leaving the party again," her father says, enunciating the word 'spectacle' in a dry tone. He shoots his daughter an arched brow as if he's silently calling her out on every action she has taken since graduating Hogwarts, but doesn't comment any further. She's thankful for that, at least.

Adrian sends her father a pleasant smile and gestures across the crowded room. "Right this way, Mr. Blair."

One final parting glance is given to Vivian. Adrian sends her another smug grin, though his eyes are still shrouded with that strange light that she still cannot fully place. She decides to ignore it. She's a bit too focused on the fact that she feels as though she's seconds away from emptying her stomach. The queasy feeling is only continuing to grow, and the two men can't leave fast enough for her liking.

"What happened?" Regulus attempts to ask as Adrian and her father walk away from them. Vivian, though, can't bring herself to respond. She needs to get out of this room before she gives the reporters another front-page story.

'Blair Heiress Hurls on Important Guests' doesn't exactly sound like a headline she wants to read.

"Vivian!" Regulus hisses as she spins around and marches towards the doors.

He's close on her heels, but he doesn't try to stop her. She shoulders her way past the other guests, doesn't stop when Morrigan calls her name, and is striding through the empty foyer within seconds. Suddenly, all she can see are those glowing eyes staring sightlessly at her and the river of blood flowing from an open wrist.

The disturbing crack of a head hitting the floor, the hopeless prayers murmured upon a gasping final breath – jerky movements of limbs trying to remember how to move –

This is her doing. This is her fault.

She just killed a man.

The emotions she had barely managed to keep at bay, before, now thunder into her.

"Vivian," Regulus says, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her around.

His usually expression, which is always so carefully masked, is now tight with concern. She vaguely realizes that they are outside, standing on the manicured lawn some paces away from the front entrance of the manor. The cool air doesn't do anything for her. She feels as though she is inhaling ash.

"I – can't – I need to leave," she hears herself say.

Regulus clenches his jaw, eyebrows furrowed. He reaches up to take her face and whispers, "You're shaking like a leaf, Vivian."

She lets out a humorless laugh and responds, "I know that."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Vivian lurches herself away from him before he can. A moment later, she's on her knees in the grass, retching up the contents of her stomach. She's so out of it that she doesn't even care how pathetic she looks.

She'd just killed a man.

She feels someone kneel down beside her. A hand presses itself to her back. Regulus. Right. Regulus.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he hoarsely tells her. "This is all my fault – "

"It's not your fault," she interrupts, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her voice trembles so much that it's hardly coherent. She lifts her head and finally turns to look at him, dreading what she's going to see…

But there's no judgment in Regulus's eyes. He doesn't look at her as if he's disgusted at what she has just done, for surely he has reached that realization by now. He doesn't try to make her feel better or offer up any empty words that might fill the gaping silence. He only kneels beside her and gives her time to catch her breath, looking concerned and guilty at his broken promise to her.

"I need to leave," she repeats, but she doesn't move to get up. Instead, she sits down in the grass and rests her forehead on her hand, digging her fingers into her hair.

"Wait another moment," Regulus murmurs to her, his worry flaring through his eyes.

A beat of silence puckers the space between them before he tentatively reaches over to take her hand and pull it into his. His fingers thread into hers. He says nothing else, and merely lets that moment pass. Then, squeezing her fingers, he says, "You shouldn't apparate in this state. You'll end up getting splinched."

Vivian draws in a breath and glances up at him.

He purses his mouth, worry still hanging heavily upon his face, and offers, "Let me take you home."

Home. She would like to go home.

In any other circumstance, she would tell him no, of course. No one save the Marauders knows the location of the cottage. It's safer that way, keeping everything under wraps. Before tonight, regardless of her connection with Regulus, she would never have allowed him to know, either. He is technically a supporter of the Dark Lord, after all. By all rights, they should be enemies.

But nothing is ever so black and white, and the chess board has already been set up. She's beginning to think that they're really just pawns in some greater game, moving forward only when commanded, like the dead man she had just brought back to life with such monstrous precision.

Shaking, Vivian pushes the thought of those glowing eyes from her mind and nods, "Okay. Take me home, Reg."

Their eyes meet. Regulus studies her for another moment before releasing a breath and standing up. He reaches for her, waits for her hands to slip into the both of his, and helps her stand, too. Then he threads his fingers into hers again and pulls her forward across the large expanse of lawn surrounding the manor, clearly intent on reaching the iron gates in the distance. They can't apparate within the bounds of the manor's immediate range.

By the time they slip out of the gates and officially step off of the Mulciber's property, Vivian has successfully doused the panic and dread for now. She's not sure how long it will take for it to return to her, but she knows she needs to calm down as much as she can to properly apparate. Even though she'll be sidelong apparating, it will be much easier for Regulus if she isn't a complete mess.

Still, she can feel the prickle of that dread lingering just on the outskirts of her emotions, and she has a feeling that she won't be getting any sleep tonight.

"Just apparate to Tinworth. I've put anti-apparition wards around the cottage," she shakily tells Regulus as he turns to wrap an arm around her and tug her against him. The proximity is only for the purposes of apparating, but she finds herself tucking her body into his more than is strictly necessary. He is warm, and she feels frozen in more ways than one.

Regulus just nods, not commenting on her actions. He takes a moment to overturn the destination in his mind, focusing on it and honing in on his intention. It always takes an extra few moments to apparate to a place one has never been. He doesn't want to mess this up after the night they've both had. Once Tinworth is firmly planted in his thoughts, though, Regulus tightens his hold of her waist and turns on his heel.

The next moment, he is dragging her into the oblivion of apparition, disappearing with a crack and falling into the vacuum of it. Only a moment more and they are reappearing on the outskirts of the little muggle village Vivian has gotten to know so well. The familiarity of it does little to quell the hurricane within her, but she'll take it any day over the crowded expanse of Adrian Mulciber's home.

"…Can I walk you home?" Regulus whispers to her, his warm breath wafting against her forehead.

A part of her wants to say yes, but then she thinks of Sirius and the fact that he likely wouldn't appreciate knowing that Regulus is even here at all. She had broken one of their rules by telling him where they live. He definitely wouldn't like the thought of his brother walking her directly to the cottage itself and letting him in on their exact location.

"…No," she sighs, and unhooks her arm from around Regulus's waist. She looks up at him and murmurs, "I can manage from here."

He purses his mouth but doesn't argue. When he releases her and steps back, the chill of the air lashes into them both.

"I'm sorry again. That I wasn't there like I said I'd be," he mumbles, slipping his hands into his pockets. The guilty expression returns to his face.

Vivian swallows. The brunt of her prior queasiness is gone now, but the panic isn't. She forcefully pushes it down and ignores that twisted little thought that whispers through her mind – I just killed a man – to instead respond, "I don't think it would have made a difference, Reg."

Another long beat of silence plucks at them. They both just stand there as if neither of them knows what to say. And really, what can they say? There are some things that cannot be expressed. Some things that can't be verbalized.

"We should…talk about this. Figure out your next move. With your father, I mean," Regulus awkwardly says. He glances at her, but his eyes don't linger long before he looks away again.

Vivian nods, pulling her dress robes tighter around her figure to ward off the cold that's seeping into her. Before she can respond to him, Regulus sighs and reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder, murmuring, "It's going to be okay, Vivian. Trust me. Just…owl me, okay? If you don't tell me what you're planning to do with your father, I'm going to go mad with worry."

She sends him a little smile that doesn't reach her eyes and mutters, "It sounds like you don't mind me dragging you further into my mess after all."

He huffs at her, sending her one of his barely-there smiles, and murmurs, "I suppose I don't. Are you sure you can make it home alright?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'll be fine." Then, after a brief pause, she catches his eye and breathes, "Thank you, Regulus."

He doesn't ask what she's thanking him for. Perhaps that is also one of those things that can't be expressed.

He nods at her and doesn't respond. With one last squeeze of her shoulder, his hand drops away from her and he steps back, shuffling a few paces back. Their eyes meet one final time before Regulus turns on his heel and disappears, vanishing back into the night and leaving her standing on the outskirts of the muggle town, alone in the darkness.

I killed a man, tonight, her traitorous thoughts remind her. And then she turned him into a monster with glowing eyes –

She turns and begins to walk down the path that leads beyond the town, clenching her jaw. Her thoughts betray her, though.

I killed a man.

I turned him into a monster.

The night air plucks at her, and as she walks, she feels little shards of herself falling away into the darkness of it, as if the dark sky above is a chasm that is devouring her with every step.