"You Should Know By Now Potter That I Am Nothing But Ridiculous," Regulus Shot Back Easily, His Tone

Regulus was not built for crowds. Well, that was partially a lie - he could cope with crowds at pureblooded society events, where he only had to show his face for a small while before he could retreat into a quieter room with a book. Navigating festive crowds including people who would simply stop in the middle of the road and cut his stride short? Very different.

He was hoping the apothecary would be a little quieter, given they weren't known for selling gifts, but there were people who were stocking up amongst their other shopping. Having carved out a space in front of a shelf, Regulus was determined to remain unmoved even as a woman stumbled into him. His hand shot out to help steady her, even as his lips curled with disapproval. "That's okay," he muttered, hoping the woman would leave him alone now.

Clearly, his face didn't look nearly as unwelcoming as he hoped and he frowned. "This one?" Reaching for the bottle, Regulus eyed the contents curiously. "If you were to add a handful of Gurdyroot to this I think it would make the potion a bit stronger."

You could certainly tell that the festive period was fast approaching, she had never seen so many people crowding together down the small alley way. She had only to quickly go into the Apothecary before heading home. This was always one of the busiest times at the bakery, people wanting orders ready for their own festive activates. She had managed to slip in with ease, though the shop it self, was also busy. Many stocking up, ready to tackle those winter illnesses that always seemed to come.

"Shit" she mumbled, seeing the exact bottle that she needed. Elbows of others forcing him to stumble into the man next to her. "Sorry, lost my footing." she apologised.

"Though, any chance you could simply past the purple bottle over there. That is all i need to sort this headache of mine, and It seems as always, I am too short to reach the damn thing."

“It’s not easy making a name for yourself, where do I draw the line? I never thought I'd be in this far.”

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Cassandra Joanne Borgin NICKNAMES: Cass, Cassie. AGE: 29 GENDER: Cis Female PRONOUNS: She/Her

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Joanne Borgin FATHER: Henry Borgin SIBLINGS: Abigail Borgin, Nicholas Borgin (Death Eater).

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Jodie Comer BUILD: Slim, but muscled. HAIR COLOR: Dirty blonde. EYE COLOR: Hazel. SKIN COLOR: Pale. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: Freckles on her cheeks, calluses on her fingers and some faded scarring on her wrists from potions accidents. SCENT: Usually sterile whilst working due to cleansing charms, otherwise Cassandra usually smells faintly floral. ACCENT: Strong yorkshire accent ALLERGIES: N/a DISORDERS: N/a FASHION: Cassandra is often found in healers robes, but otherwise wears a mix of casual dresses or shirts and trousers. Occasionally she will dress up formally. NERVOUS TICS: Biting down on her lower lip

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Semi-detached house in Godric's Hollow. BORN:  Outskirts of Leeds, Yorkshire. RAISED:  Outskirts of Leeds, Yorkshire. PETS: A small black cat called Jinx.

CAREER: Healer EMPLOYER: Private healer, with some occasional on call shifts at St Mungos where the healers become overwhelmed after battles. POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Neutral.

DRUGS: Occasionally to wind down after a long shift. SMOKES: Only when drunk. ALCOHOL: Cassandra is very fond of a glass of wine, but she is also known to wash away a long and difficult day with a glass of vodka tonic. DIET: Vegetarian.

LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Gobbledegook, Runic Magic.

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: The Yorkshire dales. SPORTS TEAM: Appleby Arrows GAME: Exploding Snap FOOD: A hearty vegetable dhal with rice and naan. BEVERAGE: Strong Italian coffee, or a glass of red wine. COLOR: Purple.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Ravenclaw. BLOOD PURITY: Pure-blooded WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 10 and a quarter inches, Willow wood, Dragon Heartstring core, springy. AMORTENTIA: Bakewell tart, dusty shelves, dragonhide gloves, morning dew. PATRONUS: Cassandra is unable to produce a patronus. BOGGART: (to be decided)

Bio:

Cassandra Borgin was born as the second child to Joanne and Henry Borgin. Henry is the co-owner of a magical antiques and artefacts shop located on Knockturn Alley, and has carefully maintained an air of neutrality his whole life despite his career as a dealer of dark artefacts. As a child Cassandra remembers her father putting protective spells over her hands so that she could spend her days in the store with him and not risk accidentally touching, though she was usually hidden at the back of the store with her nose in a book. Cassandra's older brother Nicholas was fiercely protective of his sister, and that protectiveness only grew as their youngest sibling arrived when Cassandra was six.

As she spent much of her time surrounded by dark artefacts, Cassandra found herself wanting to curiously take them apart and figure out how things worked. Her father caught her on more than one occasion pulling apart a dangerous artefact with her hands, and no amount of warning against it would quell Cassandra's curious mind. Eventually, Joanne put her foot down and said that Cassie wouldn't be allowed to go to the store any more otherwise she was at risk of killing herself and anyone else in the store at the time. Little Cassie didn't understand why she was being punished for her curiosity - she just wanted to understand how the world worked, and what her papa's work involved.

Seeing that her daughter had an inquisitive mind, Joanne spent a lot of time taking Cassandra to the magical libraries. She quickly moved on from childish books like Babbity Rabbity to Hogwarts textbooks, and by the time Cassandra came of age to attend Hogwarts she had already read all of both first and second years text books, along with additional material. Her interest in taking things apart and understanding how they worked had led to Cassie spending time with her mother brewing potions, and practicing wand motions long before she had her own.

Her older brother had been at Hogwarts before herself and had been sorted into Slytherin, and the family expectation was that Cassandra would continue the tradition. She'd barely had a moment to think when the sorting hat touched her head as it shouted 'Ravenclaw' loudly, and she stumbled in surprise towards the Ravenclaw table. Within Ravenclaw house, she found kinship. As much as her mother wanted to foster her education, they couldn't hold conversations the way that other Ravenclaws did in the common room. While she had been apprehensive initially, Cassandra quickly came to love her house. School itself was a breeze, with Cassie regularly coming top in her classes.

When it came time to pick her OWLs and then her NEWTS, Cassie's original interest in taking things apart and putting them back together seemed to win out as she was drawn towards a healing path. Whilst taking apart dark artefacts was interesting, Cassie was fascinated by the way the human body worked and how different spells and curses could affect the inner workings of the body. She wanted to be different than the rest of her family who seemed content to continue the family legacy of artefact dealing, she wanted to carve her own place in the world and make her own legacy.

Her high grades were more than enough to get onto the St Mungos training course, but Henry and Joanne deemed the St Mungos course too poor for their daughter. Henry had built up a small fortune over the years via the antiques shop, never mind his illicit dealings of forbidden creatures and potions ingredients, and they used some of that money to send Cassie abroad to learn - firstly to France, then for further study in Spain. Whilst studying, there was a heavy focus on the healing qualities of potions and Cassie is now fully adept at creating a variety of healing potions which she keeps a heavy stock of. She has carved a basement out of her home in Godric's Hollow and uses that as a potions lab.

Cassie spent four years abroad and came back with all the relevant qualifications for healing. In her absence, the Dark Lord had been gathering power and many of the other pure-bloods she knew had pledged themselves to his service, including her older brother. Her father remained neutral, but it was widely accepted that he aligned to the dark arts. When she returned to England, Cassie felt some pressure to join the Death Eaters but she resisted - her focus was on healing, regardless of what side they were on. Cassandra does broadly agree with some of the Dark Lord's ideologies, but she cannot support it fully when her focus is the damage caused by the Death Eaters that he lets run riot. Like her father, Cassandra maintains quiet neutrality which allows her to heal those on both sides of the war.

Cassandra now works predominantly as a private healer for pure-blooded families who want a discreet service at home, rather than attending St Mungos. She is on retainer at St Mungos if they were ever entirely overwhelmed, and has been called in once or twice, but Cassie prefers the more personal method of private healing. She has made her position known that if a Death Eater were to come to her with injuries that they could not attend St Mungos with, those injuries and the circumstances with which they were gained would remain entirely confidential. She's still curious about the way the world works, and on occasions where she has healed wounds from particularly dark magic, Cassie has taken a copy of the magical signature and studies them at home to see if she can figure out a way to counter it.

"There's a small dash of mustard in there too, and some nutmeg," he said. He may work in a pub kitchen, he may be looked down upon within society, but he saw no reason to serve shit food. He kept his employers happy, and they continued to turn a blind eye to the days off that he requested each month like clockwork. "I find that the two work very well together. Just the right balance of each, and some finely sliced potatoes and...voila, or whatever the French say."

"Oh cheddar and parmesan together is a great idea. Usually people shy away from combining two stronger flavor profiles but I do find that they compliment each other well."

Staring at Andromeda in a state of something almost akin to shell-shock, Regulus didn't quite know what to do with himself. Finishing his sugar quill quickly before stuffing his hands into his pocket, Regulus could practically hear his mother's shrill voice shrieking in his ear that he should take this opportunity to make Andromeda regret ever leaving them. He'd never had much of a taste for violence, especially not for an older cousin that he had once cared for...and he certainly couldn't bring himself to harm a child, even if that child was a half-blood with shocking green hair. The dark mark burned into his forearm was itching in her presence, a burning reminder of what ideologies he had signed his life away to...and yet, there was something that held him back.

He took a small step closer to them. In all these years, he'd never seen Nymphadora Tonks in person - he'd only heard the bitterness of his family's curses when the birth was announced, and if he'd spotted someone that looked vaguely like Andromeda in the past, he'd quickly turned and gone the other way like a coward. Not this time. With a quick glance to ensure there were no eyes watching them, Regulus nodded curtly towards the small child. "It's nice to meet you, Dora. Do you like sugar quills? I have another if your mother will allow it," he said, eyes drifting up to Andromeda. Maybe it was a poor imitation of a peace offering, or maybe he simply couldn't bring himself to be a dick to a small child that shared his blood. "It's been many years, Andromeda. I was beginning to think I might never see you again, privately or publicly. Do you...still see Sirius?" He asked rather pathetically, with the small voice of a boy that still ached at the loss of his big brother.

A day free from work at St Mungos was rather rare for Andromeda. She tended to work her usual hours along with more on top of it. However her bosses had decided it was necessary for her to take time off, lest she end up exhausted or sick due to neglecting her own needs. Most would have taken the opportunity to spend the day at home. She however had seen it as an opportunity to spend the day with her daughter in Diagon Alley. They’d just finished their ice cream at Floreans when Dora had begged to go and see the owls. Unable to say no, she’d held on to Dora as they made their way down the cobblestone street. While she knew Dora was capable of walking on her own, it made her nervous when her daughter was prone to change appearance at will. As seen by the way her daughter had already changed her hair to a brilliant shade of green to match the ice cream she’d just ate.

She didn’t know what made her look up from her daughter, only the sense of eyes on the two of them. She looked up and her eyes immediately found Regulus, her heart clenching in her chest. Years ago, she may have chosen to just leave, take Dora and head in the opposite direction. But she’d long ago refused to stop running. So instead she continued to guide Dora in that direction, her eyes not leaving her cousin. “Hello Regulus…” Perhaps he hated her like the rest of her family, but there was no knowing unless she tried. So she motioned to her daughter, running her fingers through her mess of green hair. “Dora….this is Regulus.” Her uncle, but she wasn’t prepared to use that title on someone who may not deserve it.

The week between Christmas and New Year seemed to pass with a blur. He had taken the week off work to spend as much time with Magnus as possible, including spending half a day building some lego with him which he'd then left out for Fenrir to step on in the night without a lumos to guide his way. He knew there was only so many Christmases he'd get with his son while he still felt the magic of it all, and Fenrir had wanted to soak in every minute. Going away with Pandora for New Years felt like the perfect end to his year, and the right start to the next once.

The cabin was close to Lake Windemere, but still private enough that it felt like a slice of paradise. It was exactly the sort of place that Fenrir loved being, disconnected from society with plenty of nature surrounding them. He'd just uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured them both a glass when he felt his witch's arms circling him, and he reached down to tangle their hands together. "I did say something about stars. I thought we could take a blanket outside along with these, pick out some constellations," he said, squeezing her hand gently. "You are tiny, my darling."

where: 31st of december where: cabin on the lake district who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback)

Pandora had been looking forward to get little trip away with Fenrir since he mentioned in Christmas day. The week seemed to have more purpose and she held her duties before work, family and at nights she would spend it with him.

After dinner they collected their bags and apparated to a cabin that he had on the lake districts, the two of them tucked away from the world, the way she liked it. Pandora came out of the bedroom to find him in the kitchen. "This place is beautiful." There was an tranquility about it.

"If I remember, you mentioned something about stars." She wraps her arms from behind him, her head hitting the middle of his back, nipping gently. "I never realise how short I am until I'm standing next to you." She chuckles softly.

Letting the heat from the mug sink into his bones, Kingsley found himself relaxing back into the sofa. There weren't many places that Kingsley felt he could truly relax, but his sister's home was one of them - warded as much as his own home, with two residents that he trusted more than any other living soul. There was safety within these walls, and unconditional love. The thought of Sade putting herself at higher risk almost made him feel ill. He had wondered if this was what she might have felt as he put himself through auror training, or if this was how she felt when he had been critically injured - perhaps it was unfair for him to be here, on the verge of pleading with her.

But he would do it anyways - for Jasper's sake, and for his own sake.

"I'm not sure the Dark Lord takes breaks, but I am trying to be better. The department is stretched, but better a man down for a few days rather than me being exhausted in battle and then they're a man down permanently," he said sagely. "But you're settling in alright? Co-workers all fine?" he asked, conscious that the ministry was strained at the best of time. "I have. But I want to hear it from you, before I say my piece. I trust Edgar told me the whole truth, but I want to hear from you what you're looking for and why."

Settling into the sofa with her own mug in hand, Sade looked down into her tea as Kingsley brought up the Order. In recent weeks, Sade had been interested in increasing her involvement, to maybe allow herself to be put forward for a few missions. Acting as a safe house wasn’t an option, bringing trouble to the home she shared with her son was never a step Sade was willing to take. Her involvement in the Order was supportive, rather than proactive, and anybody who knew Sade was aware at how much being sidelined irritated her. Nevertheless, it was something she knew Kingsley would disagree with. That was why she had visited a few of his friends, other influential figures within the Order’s ranks.

“You need to take a break,” Sade acknowledged, an evident tone of concern in her voice, “some time off might just be what you need.” Leaning back on the sofa, bringing her legs to rest beside her. Sade always admired Kingsley, his tenacity, and ambition but with the war ever-raging on, it wasn’t healthy to never switch off. “I’ve been good, starting back at the office is strange. A position in the Wizengamot doesn’t look quite as close as it once did.” She chuckled, a brief pause. “The Order? Something tells me you’ve heard about my requests.”

Sometimes, Fenrir wondered how simple and foolish wizards had to be to miss the signs of a werewolf that were right under their nose. He knew that Remus Lupin tried to keep his condition under wraps, to live a normal life - as if he could ever be normal whilst resisting his true nature, his true self. Yet it was plainly obvious to Fenrir that the other man was a wolf, suffering with the after effects of the full moon. How the younger man had made it through seven years worth of schooling and now several years of adult life without his condition being realised, Fenrir was not quite certain.

It bolstered him though, knowing that he could continue growing his pack, and the wider population of werewolves without too much ministry attention falling on his head. If they could hardly see what was plainly at the end of their noses, then they would not see what happened in the Scottish highlands, or the New Forest. Before they knew it, Voldemort would be the least of their concerns.

Remus' refusal to look at him riled Fenrir, but he continued to keep his hand firmly on the other man's shoulder. "That's a shame. It's not meant to be difficult, Remus. It's a beautiful thing, what we are. We are the supreme species...we should love the moon, not fear it."

The full moon always took its toll on Remus. He had been through numerous months of the struggle but still had difficulty. He couldn't get over the fact that he was a werewolf. It had destroyed who he felt he was -- or who he should be. Life would have been so much easier if Fenrir had never changed him. It wasn't fair that the young child had been afflicted because of his father's actions. Little Lupin did nothing to deserve it. With being five years old when he was changed, one would think he would be used to it but he always felt the pain, both physical and mental. It was terrifying each month.

The days following the full moon left Remus feeling unlike himself as he was still healing but it didn't stop him from going to the bookstore. At least he had an easy job. It was one where he could relax among the books and the most help he had to do was talk books. And he had to organize, dust and just keep the store in order. He was able to do such tasks while reading in between.

However, on this very day Remus was going to open Flourish and Blott's when a hand reached his shoulder and a familiar voice chilled through his bones. Fenrir Greyback. "Difficult night. Yeah," he responded not turning around.

Reg's shoulders tensed at Alecto's expression, almost curling in on himself to prepare for the agony that he felt was incoming. It wouldn't be the first time someone he liked and trusted had used the cruciatus on him, nor would it be the last. The pain didn't come though, and slowly the tension left his muscles. Nodding at her word of caution, Reg shot her a small grin - one of fondness, not of teasing. "Lesson learned. Don't poke the bear."

"I think if you were to turn me into some sort of other creature that might please my parents more than the person I am currently," he muttered, bitterness seeping into his tone. "I wouldn't mind tea if the elves can prepare a pot."

Her eyes narrow at him when he starts to mimic knitting, tempted to send a wave of pain throughout his body in warning, letting the thought fade when he lifted his hands up in surrender. He was family in a sense and wished to keep the little of the Black's that were left, close. "I am going to let you speak, be wise what you say." Her hand waves to remove the spell.

"I am not in the mood for trying my patience. Let's have a visit that won't have you turned into a vile creature." That was pregnant Alecto being nice. "Did you wish for something to drink?"

"I hear you've been put on bed rest...or, I suppose, the Death Eater equivalent," Reg called through the halls of Rabastan's townhouse, trying to locate his friend. "Does the Dark Lord offer maternity leave too?" his voice was tinged with amusement, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. He wasn't sure how it all worked - not that Regulus was likely to be getting anyone pregnant anytime soon, but seeing his cousin with Nymphadora recently had raised some questions about how children would be raised in service of the Dark Lord. He supposed it wasn't too different to his own very strict upbringing, but he wondered how long the children would get to grow before they had to pledge themselves.

Rounding the corner to the sitting room, Reg set eyes on Alecto and shot her a grin before flopping onto her couch. "I can get Kreacher to knit a lovely little sweater for the kids." @alectocarrowx

"No rule, but maybe there should be....too often I've been here first, and someone else has just waltzed along and stolen the last vial and then I have to wait for a restock," Reg said with a roll of his eyes. He'd started a small stock of potions ingredients at home, but it never seemed to be enough. "A store that doesn't seem to be able to keep the correct amount of stock in, Longbottom."

"Last I checked, there isn't a rule against browsing the same shelf." Frank said lightly. The Blacks were something else these days, their words cut as sharp as knives. Every single one of them had it and Frank didn't particularly enjoy it. "It's a store, Regulus."