Chapter 2
Don't touch.
Regulus stared at the mile-long trays of desserts in a silent suffering, breathing through his mouth in hopes that he needn't smell the creamy caramel chocolate bars that beckoned for his attention. That only proved to be a mistake, for he could nearly taste the tang of the orange peel roast duck garnished with crushed bacon, resting quite contently next to the clouds of buttery garlic mashed potatoes. If he didn't watch himself, his hand would inch towards his favorite dish: cream of spinach heaven.
Sirius, on the other hand, was calculating just how fast his hands could shoot out to the farthest dishes once dinner began. Regulus could tell; Sirius had already begun flexing his fingers, stretching them as far out as possible for the upcoming feast.
"And now for something new! Toasted mango bread!" Mother flew out of the doors, looking overjoyed in her stained apron and steaming loaf on a platter. Regulus couldn't help but smile paternally as he watched her carefully wedge the bread in the single empty spot left, nearly knocking over the crystal champagne glasses. Mother meant well, but she had always insisted on combining dessert and dinner, declaring that the best dinners covered everything in one sitting, from appetizers to dessert. Furthermore, she cooked like this every day.
Just thinking about the excess of food had Regulus smooth down his robe nervously.
"Going to wolf it all down," grinned Sirius. "Ready to fight me for it?"
"I'll just have a spoonful of each," he said determinedly, trying to gather his willpower as the rising steam tantalized him. Don't get him wrong. Regulus didn't obsess over his weight like the young, angsty witches at Hogwarts who frequented Moaning Myrtle's bathroom after a binge. But he had carefully considered the relentless pattern of fatty foods that Mother whipped up and came to the conclusion that he would probably die the same time his parents did, if not sooner, at the rate of Sirius's consumption. More realistically, he'd try to ride his broomstick and have it snap in half right under him.
As if reading his thoughts, Mother sang, "Regulus, you plan too far ahead. Why worry about gaining weight when we're eating and happy?"
"Yeah, take me for example," butted in Sirius. "I eat like a hippogriff, but I'm sure not going to die young from it. I'm having all of Mom's meals until I end up in St. Mungos."
"And then I'll bring food to your hospital ward," she giggled. "Watch this, dears!" With a carefully said incantation, she beamed as her robes billowed with extra yards of fabric. "Those poor Muggles…wearing jeans when robes hide problem spots so much better!"
"Mother, it's not just fat I'm worrying about. What if our spending on food lands us on the street? Or what if we develop heart attacks or something equally horrid? I don't like surprises."
Sirius frowned, "You sound just like Dad. No surprises. Planning all the time. I had to write a personal letter a month ahead of time before I could finally invite James to dinner today."
"James?" Regulus whipped around. "Why does he have to come?" He loved his brother, don't get him wrong. And he was sure that if he met James in a random class, he could grow to tolerate him too. But when Sirius and James came together, pandemonium always struck. And what came out weren't surprises. They were usually catastrophes.
"James Potter?" cried Mother. "I should have set a whole other table of food for him…I completely forgot he was coming!" She checked the time. "And it's far too late to fix anything up."
"Not to worry, Mrs. Black."
Regulus groaned inwardly as James entered the dining room, as suave and forbidding as his partner in crime. Together, they looked like a pair of sleek panthers ready to prey on the innocent. Or just two extremely arrogant friends.
"I let myself in, because I would hate to arrive at such a sumptuous dinner even a minute late. Everything looks divine, Mrs. Black. You needn't worry, I only like to sample and savor," he said pleasantly. As Mother turned to sigh luxuriously over such a considerate houseguest, Regulus caught Sirius and James sharing a high five and fist bump.
Ridiculous, thought Regulus uncomfortably. Acting as if they're blood brothers and making fools of themselves. If Mother weren't so gullible, she'd catch right on.
"Oh heavens, it's time! Quick, quick, quick!" In a frantic scurry, Mother threw off the apron and slid it neatly under a chair cushion, smoothing down her dress robe and snatching up the champagne bottle. Right on cue, Sirius, James, and Regulus flew to their seats and sat ramrod straight, hands placed loosely on their laps and eyes fixed on the oak door that separated the living room from the dining room. Regulus could feel the seconds tickle under his skin.
Father.
The door opened precisely at six o'clock, and each watched with bated breath as Father entered the room, dressed in an elegant pitch-black robe that looked as if it repelled dust and glimmered with miniscule diamonds. He had once told them that the diamonds represented the stars, an obvious reference to the family tree.
Regulus had always regarded his father as perfect, though many may mistake that as a term of endearment. Rather, Regulus viewed Father literally as a perfect specimen, whose black hair didn't show a hint of aging and whose shoulders remained built despite his years. And as anyone faced with perfection was apt to do, Regulus both aspired to and feared Father.
"Walburga," he said, and Mother gracefully poured the crimson wine into his glass, "you look beautiful today. Dinner looks impeccable."
"Much obliged sir," she giggled.
Father's mouth nearly lifted into a smile. "No jokes today, sweetheart. Today is an important day. We have our immediate family together, as always. Sirius." Sirius immediately stood up, as was his job as the firstborn. "Regulus." Regulus carefully shifted his chair back and stood for a courteous moment before sitting back down. "Our guests. James, I have been expecting you." Abashed, James quickly stood up, counted silently to three (Regulus could see him mouthing the numbers), and sat back down. "Sirius has much to say about you. I only hope you can live up to your brilliant scheming." James's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I particularly enjoyed the story concerning the mail owl interference."
"Thank you. I just pictured them as really big Snitches, though I had to return all the mail at the end," said James eagerly.
"Perhaps next time you should consider a grander display. I understand there are windows in the Dining Hall. What would have made it perfect would be if you had your team play with those owls. I'm sure they can serve as Bludgers and the Quaffle as well as the Snitch."
"Very good sir," said James, and Regulus watched, scandalized, as the idea already began to develop in his head.
"But of course, today is the day for many guests! It would border the unthinkable if I were to neglect my—ah."
The Black family fidgeted nervously. That drop in the tone of voice and the sudden darkening of the eyes was much too familiar to them all.
"Where are Andromeda and her beau?" he said delicately.
Regulus found himself tongue-tied as usual. He briefly wondered whether Father had cast a spell which rendered all the dinner participants speechless.
Sirius was the first to speak up, as usual. "I heard they were arriving by train, so I reckon they'll be more than a bit late." Regulus watched him drop his gaze, should Father attempt Occlumency.
"No Apparition?" he asked.
"Protective charm," said Mother immediately. "No one outside the family can Apparate into the Black Manor, remember?"
CRACK.
Father didn't speak, only pursed his lips. With the tendrils of steam curling around his face, he looked positively forbidding.
A petite lady with curly black hair stumbled into the room, nearly tripping on her dress robes as a willowy man in a top hat and gripping on her arm tripped right behind her. From her laughing eyes, one would deduce that they had just shared an immensely witty joke, rather than arriving late at a most important dinner.
Regulus's heart sank. The least Andromeda could do was look contrite.
"Late." Father's countenance was perfectly calm, which felt like the silence before the war. He leaned forward so that his pale face jutted out at them, menacing in its feigned concern. "Why so?"
"Daddy, I'm sorry. We were flying on our brooms when I got distracted by the sunset. It was so beautiful, Daddy, I swear it bloomed."
"I see," and his eyes flickered to Sirius. "Even taking a Muggle train may have prevented tardiness."
"Won't happen again, Daddy, I promise," she said, her smile fading. As she tried to pull out her chair, Father shook his head once. Reluctantly, she pushed it back in and waited.
"You will remain standing for this dinner. You will pour our drinks and wash the dishes. You will not taste anything until everyone one of us has tried a bit for himself."
Andromeda's cheeks reddened as she stared straight ahead.
"Andromeda?"
"Certainly, sir."
Her companion spoke up indignantly, "Mr. Black, please reconsider. It was my fault we were late. I should have planned better."
Father's attention immediately fastened on the perspiring, bespectacled gentleman. "Ah, forgive me. You are…"
"Ted Tonks at your service," he said in a valiant stab at camaraderie.
Andromeda let out a little gasp, turning towards Mother with desperation. Mother only paled and tried to pour more wine into his glass, which he refused with an impatient wave of the hand.
"Tonks. Not a very common wizarding name, I believe."
"Oh, well sir, I'm a Muggleborn. My parents were gardeners, so I guess the Ministry of Magic or Hogwarts decided that a magic green thumb was good enough for them. I've decided on Herbology as my concentration," he said brightly.
Regulus covered his eyes with his palm and waited.
"Not a drop of magic," concluded Father, turning directly towards Andromeda.
"I guess not," she mumbled. Regulus bit into the cold duck confit and chewed noisily.
"Did you know that?"
Andromeda stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.
"Andromeda," he said warningly.
She chewed faster, swallowed, and proceeded to take another spoonful.
"Exspuospuere!" he thundered, the tip of his wand burning with rage. She retched and doubled over, the sour vomit spilling between her fingers as she tried to cover her mouth. Ted's eyes widened as he hurried to retrieve his own wand. Before he could cast a spell however, he was hit with an Expelliarmus spell.
Father dabbed his mouth lightly with his napkin. "We don't allow Mudbloods to tinker with magic in this household, boy."
Ted stood up vehemently. "Shall I deal with this the Mudblood way?" he taunted, raising his fists.
Agitated, James muttered the countercurse. An orange stream of light hit Andromeda, so that she breathed easy again. Father watched, detached.
"Well, that was unnecessary," James said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose angrily. "Sit down, Ted." Coldly, "One of my best friends, Lily Evans, at school is a Mudblood, and she's cleverer than half the Slytherin class. I don't see the difference."
"The difference is that Hogwarts must skim the cream from the top, always striving to find the very best. In this family, we are the best," he said calmly, pausing only to take a bite of the mashed potatoes Andromeda had earlier tried to eat. "I want what's good for my niece. She knows that."
"I am good for her," Ted said loudly, but Father ignored him.
"Kindly lead the scum out of our door where it can rot with the rest of the world, dear," he said to Mother. Regulus couldn't even swallow anymore. He agreed with the perfection Father desired, but it shamed him terribly all the same to witness Father's cruelty.
"Then pardon me, but if Ted's forced to go, I'll have to ask your leave," said James disdainfully. "I'm afraid I'm already infected with Mudblood; I might affect the food."
Father only inclined his head. "Very well, James. I suggest you go to St. Mungo's to have a look at it. Mudblood-sympathy is a ludicrous, yet consuming, disease."
"Just give it a rest. You don't even know how stupid you sound right now." Sirius glared at Father, baiting him with his eyes. "I finally decide to bring over a dinner guest, and you're basically kicking him out?"
"Only for our health and his," said Father, his eyes twinkling. "Having caught the symptoms early, I'm sure St. Mungo's can still treat him for Muggle-alliance."
Sirius slammed a palm down onto the table so that the silverware rattled. "This is no time to joke, Dad," he mimicked. "We were in the process of discussing your jerk-like tendencies."
"You want to get serious, then, don't you?" Father was still smiling, it stuck on his face like gum on a sidewalk, though his eyes burned. "You know how I feel about mistakes. They must be fixed."
"Really?" he snarled. "All right then. Be a man, own up. Apologize to Ted Tonks and James right now."
Father set his fork down and stood up in one controlled movement. "I never apologize," he said. "I never make mistakes."
Sirius threw his hands up in the air. "You know what, Dad? You're impossible. I don't think I want to eat anymore. Just shut up and live in your own white, fantasy world." Regulus wondered whether he should kill Sirius before Father could lift his wand. It would be the kindest thing he could ever do.
"Really?" and Father's voice was deadly quiet; one had to lean in to catch each syllable. "So as your parent, I should let you wallow in your lovesick dreams?"
Sirius's face worked furiously. "What are you talking about?"
"Falling in love with Mudbloods, I hear. You wonder why she doesn't notice you? Because she's too stupid. You've fallen in love with an animal." Finally, Father's voice had reached its sinister jeer, the one that haunted Regulus's dreams.
"HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?" he howled.
Father smiled. "Every time you meet my eyes, I'm reading your every thought and measuring every bit of your soul. And it's not good enough, Sirius. It's not Black enough."
CRACK. Sirius had taken Ted's arm and Apparated, leaving the air vibrating with tension.
"Anticlimatic," noted Father. "I had hoped for a duel." He picked up his fork again. "Let us finish dinner. Very sorry, Regulus, but I'll have to send you on an errand to find your brother again."
Regulus nodded and ate slowly, prolonging the inevitable task. They always fight like that, he reassured himself. Father demanded perfection. Sirius demanded justice. To him, both sounded too ideal.
"Andromeda?" Father's dry lips cracked into a smile. "Keep standing."