la famille de la noire

J'étais prêt à graver ton image à l'encre noire sous mes paupières Afin de te voir même dans un sommeil éternel

[tromper-in-black]

Fix a Broom-Broom {James & Regulus}

[buckoff-potter]

tromper-in-black:

“Cheap materials produces cheap results. I should have known that.” Regulus rubbed his eyes in exasperation. 

“Look.” He tried to keep his tone civil, “we don’t like each other, fair enough. But how much do I have to give you for you to do this job first and everyone else’s second? I don’t care of the price. You know how rich my family is—and now that I’m the heir, I have more than what I had before. So tell me what you need to get this broom fixed.”  Pausing, if only for a moment, gritting out “Please.”

“Don’t need your money, mate,” James responded, feeling almost smug as Regulus pleaded with him. Pulling a red notebook out from under the register, James flipped it open and pushed it across the counter towards Regulus. “Fill that out – if you can’t wait you can always buy a real broom.”

[tromper-in-black]

“Did you not hear me?” Regulus practically sneered at the notebook, “Look...” He genuinely did not enjoy doing this, however, he was desperate and he needed the broom to be finished, “Wouldn’t the owner love to have a nice donation in the name of the Black family? Think of how many supplies you could buy, or hire more workers to give yourself time off, or hell, renovate the place?” Regulus slid the notebook back to James, “Do you really want to pass up on the chance? Who else here carry’s as much as I do?”

[tromper-in-black]

Fix a Broom-Broom {James & Regulus}

[buckoff-potter]

tromper-in-black:

Regulus scowled at how nonchalant the other man was being, as if his older brother didn’t leave him for—He grunted, trying to put on a civil smile. After all, he was still talking to a pureblood. He was raised with certain decorum. 

“Does this shop have only one repairman?”

“No need. Most people don’t go around snapping their broom in half.”

[tromper-in-black]

“Cheap materials produces cheap results. I should have known that.” Regulus rubbed his eyes in exasperation.  “Look.” He tried to keep his tone civil, “we don’t like each other, fair enough. But how much do I have to give you for you to do this job first and everyone else’s second? I don’t care of the price. You know how rich my family is—and now that I’m the heir, I have more than what I had before. So tell me what you need to get this broom fixed.”  Pausing, if only for a moment, gritting out “Please.”

[tromper-in-black]

Stuck in Walls {Kingsley & Regulus}

This really wasn’t want Regulus imagined. Really, it was far from it. It was bad enough that he had to venture outside to begin with and venture far from home. It was bad enough that he had to venture outside for some errands that apparently his mother made promises too and decided to send her son out. Of course, it had nothing to do with Regulus, but it was Regulus she chose and when the Mother Black makes a decision nobody disagrees. So, he rumbled out of his room, in his slacks and a simple white shirt, grumbling.  That should have been the end of it—just go to the ministry, pick up some papers, come back and give it to his precious mother. She promised him that should he accomplish that, she would leave him alone for the day. At least I could get the remaining 20 hours away from her. 

It was a nice gamble, for nothing seemed tricky or completely out of the way other than a mother masking her son as an errand boy. Though, fools beware, especially fools with the name of Regulus has nothing is every simple when dealing with the Ministry of Magic. He was fooled by the easy ride into the place (no left over floo powder or dust in his eyes this time) and he was fooled by nobody questioned him or bothered him, despite being a Black. He almost smirked at how eerily easy this mission was and nothing was ever easy when it came to his family.  And yet…Here he was, stuck, in a broom closet of all things.  It happened while he was walking outside of the office, holding the papers tightly within his hands. He had saw something, small and grey even shinning silver. It almost reminded him of, well, Kreacher. The family house-elf who Regulus had taken a liking towards since he was a child. Turning his heel he followed the small silver animal, intrigued by its presence and how not a single witch or wizard took notice. He followed and followed and followed—bam

Stumbling backwards, he had walked into a wall. A plane brick wall. Holding his nose, scowling he turned around and was hit once again by a door that slammed with a—”shush” and a “lock”. 

“What the hell?” Regulus took out his land, snapping alohomora for the door to open and yet it failed to work. He tried again with aberto. Sighing, seeing no other option but to make a mess, he flicked his wrist, yelling “Cistem Aperio” as a bright white light flew out of the tip of his wand. Once the light cleared, the door stood still, undamaged, even mocking Regulus.

“Come on!” He banged on the door, hoping that the sound would alert someone’s attention. “I’m…I’m stuck here! Can anyone hear me?”  Nothing is ever simple at the Ministry of Magic.

[shacklebolt-kingsley-deactivate]

A bunch of files under his arm, Kingsley was going back to his Department after collecting a few reports from other offices up and down the government facility. He was walking down the silent, deserted corridor when something drew his attention–a noise, a muffled, barely audible noise. 

He came to a halt and glanced around, looking for its source, and his eyes fell on a plain door he had just passed. He frowned slightly, for a moment puzzled as he wondered whether that door was supposed to be there and what room was behind it. He hummed softly, still doubtful, but then he moved closer to the door anyway, curious to find out what was making that noise, probably an animal or a memo stuck inside. 

Using his free hand, he pulled the door open–from outside apparently it opened without any problem–and looked inside. He had just the time to spot a person standing in front of him and then he found himself roughly shoved into the broom closet. 

The door immediately closed itself behind him.

[tromper-in-black]

“Oof!”

Regulus was suddenly thrown backwards, slamming his back against the bricked wall with a small crack as the impact smashed his wand against his body and the bricks.  Mentally groaning as he hoped that the wand did not break and at most just needed a few repairs, he reached his arm out, his eyes enlarged as he tried to shout not to let the door close but with the wind knocked out of him, pieces of wood digging into his skin he couldn’t do much but let out a strange wheezing cough-like noise.  It didn’t matter though, for the door shut close as quickly as it opened.  “Why the hell did you let it close?!” He managed to mumble against the body. “And would you mind getting off of me? I don’t want to die by suffocation” The closet wasn’t large, nor was it small, however it left little room with two people stuck inside—possibly a third if whatever creature Regulus chased was in the room.  “Well, this is amazing. Isn’t it?” 

[tromper-in-black]

ooc.

Hey guys! I’m sorry for going poof for the past 4-ish days.  I fell pretty ill and just went to the dentist to get a crown and my mother’s blood sugar keeps on going up ;-;  So I went poof for a while :///  But I’m back now! And I’ll do those replies that I have to! ♥  Thank you for being patient with me! 

[tromper-in-black]

Guys, Gals, Tea & Macarons {Narcissa & Lucius & Regulus}

[luciusofmalfoy]

regaldaffodil:

tromper-in-black:

“Happy birthday, my dearest cousin” Regulus told his cousin, Narcissa probably the 5th time today if not of the hour as his fingers worked in between her left toes as his thumbs rubbed circles on the pads, applying slight pressure and keeping rhythm. His own shoes he left at the door as his feet were propped up on the ottoman, therefore creating perfect area for another person to place their feet upon his lap. “Just like when we were younger, right?” He chucked, wiggling his toes, remembering childhood memories with his family always brought upon a child-like glee. He often wondered who else can look back and smile at their childhood. The number is probably low, at least, what he thinks.  “I hope your husband does this as well as I do.” Smiling. It was the after party, or rather, the party was over and the various guests left. Allowing the home owners time to themselves—Everyone except for Regulus, of course. I’m family, I can stay however long I want, was his excuse as he shrugged at one of the wizards who gave Regulus a quizzical look when he left the house. If anything, he could at least spy on Lucius and how he treats Narcissa.  “Your feet should never touch the ground, honestly, Cissa” He momentary stopped touching her, only to switch to the other foot, her right one. “Did anyone gift you a flying carpet? I’ll be sure to wrap one for you when I venture out to the shops.” He nodded, more talking to himself rather than at her, despite asking her. It was one of his bad habits, just ignoring people. His mother used to slap him upside the head whenever he did it to her. He never meant harm, yet, it was still one of his rudest habits.  “Why didn’t I think about buying that for your birthday…” His fingers, working in patterns, focusing on her feet he finally looked up at her, smiling. 

Narcissa let her hair down, reclining her head against the arm of the sofa. She had picked the most exuberant pair of heels in the store to wear on her birthday, alas, they were not comfortable at all. When she said goodbye to the last guest, she kicked them somewhere in the living room and placed her feet on Regulus’ lap, sprawling on the sofa like a lazy, spoiled cat.

“You know the tip for wearing high heels is drinking the right dose of champagne, your marvellous massage is a hundred times better, of course, but you are not always around, dear cousin” Narcissa laughed loudly. 

“Oh, Lucius has never massaged my feet, one thing he does is complain that I leave my heels anywhere in the bedroom.” The witch made a grimace, chuckling. “I like the way he looks when he is annoyed about these petty things”

The witch laughed at his compliment, rolling her head back, letting her blonde curls cascade down the arm of the sofa, just like she used to do when she was a child. “Don’t worry, dear cousin, you can buy me a flying carpet any time of the year, not just for my birthday.”

Lucius strode into the living room, a delicate tray of tea and after-party gifts floating behind him, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

The smirk widened when he saw Narcissa reclined lazily on the sofa, and it faded rather quickly when he noticed Regulus was still there, giving his cousin a foot message of all things. Lucius didn’t know Narcissa liked foot massages.

He strode over and cleared his throat to announce his presence; the effect was rather ruined when he had to double step quickly to avoid stumbling over the pair of heels lying on the carpet. He sighed and hitched up an indulgent smile. It wouldn’t do to cause displeasure on Narcissa birthday.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?” He settled himself on the sofa’s other end, mindful of the ends of Narcissa’s curls, and peered at her upside down; the indulgent smile turned into a genuine one. There was something distinctly feline about her pleased expression.

“That’s quite an inspired birthday gift, Regulus,” he added, looking up at the other wizard, “But given a little late, don’t you think? The party is over, after all,” Lucius raised his eyebrows pointedly. 

@tromper-in-black

[tromper-in-black]

If there is one thing that Regulus loves, other than plants and studying alone, it would be ruffling Lucius’ feathers. Of course he knew that he was overstaying his welcome a long time ago, and yet, he decided to stay, longer than what was needed all because he wanted to make snide remarks and have some tea and macarons. Which is exactly what he did, when he stopped his massage for a while to yonk a macaron from the plate, sending a smile as he bit the cookie to Lucius.  “Why Lucius, I didn’t know you knew my favorite type of macaron. Is this red velvet and cream cheese? Looks like it.” He ate the cookie before reaching for another one. Only instead, he held the one up to Narcissa, “would you like one, dear cousin?” Sometimes, Regulus falls into these games—whether to test his mental ability, or brush up on his “social skills” and right now, Regulus was in that exact mindset, “you really should try it, they’re delicious. I hope your husband pays the cook top galleon for these cookies.”  A chuckle or a giggle, he turned back to Lucius, “Yes, I’m aware of the magnificent party being over. It really was extravagant. How will you ever top next years birthday party? In fact, I don’t even know how my dear cousin could top a birthday party for you, my lovely brother-in-law? Nothing but the best for you.”  All the while holding the cookie.  @regaldaffodil

[tromper-in-black]

Guys, Gals, Tea & Macarons {Narcissa & Lucius & Regulus}

"Happy birthday, my dearest cousin" Regulus told his cousin, Narcissa probably the 5th time today if not of the hour as his fingers worked in between her left toes as his thumbs rubbed circles on the pads, applying slight pressure and keeping rhythm. His own shoes he left at the door as his feet were propped up on the ottoman, therefore creating perfect area for another person to place their feet upon his lap. “Just like when we were younger, right?” He chucked, wiggling his toes, remembering childhood memories with his family always brought upon a child-like glee. He often wondered who else can look back and smile at their childhood. The number is probably low, at least, what he thinks.  “I hope your husband does this as well as I do.” Smiling. It was the after party, or rather, the party was over and the various guests left. Allowing the home owners time to themselves—Everyone except for Regulus, of course. I’m family, I can stay however long I want, was his excuse as he shrugged at one of the wizards who gave Regulus a quizzical look when he left the house. If anything, he could at least spy on Lucius and how he treats Narcissa.  “Your feet should never touch the ground, honestly, Cissa” He momentary stopped touching her, only to switch to the other foot, her right one. “Did anyone gift you a flying carpet? I’ll be sure to wrap one for you when I venture out to the shops.” He nodded, more talking to himself rather than at her, despite asking her. It was one of his bad habits, just ignoring people. His mother used to slap him upside the head whenever he did it to her. He never meant harm, yet, it was still one of his rudest habits.  “Why didn’t I think about buying that for your birthday...” His fingers, working in patterns, focusing on her feet he finally looked up at her, smiling. 

[tromper-in-black]

Take an Ad Out {Rita & Regulus}

[acidgreenqueen]

tromper-in-black:

This is incredibly idiotic. 

He sighed, most likely for the 10th time today as he leaned back on the most uncomfortable chair in all of the Wizarding World while sitting outside, at the garden in the backyard of the Manor. He remembered how difficult it was to sit on those chairs as a child and he remembered how his mother reprimanded him to stay still. Though the chairs were beautiful with all sorts of glistening jewels and polished wood—it was uncomfortable. Of course, status means the most. Status above all. He grunted as the one of the jewels dug into his lower back, closer to where his tailbone began. This was honestly the last place he wanted to be and with one of the last people he wanted to interact with—Regulus was rudely awaken by his mother shouting, nearly flipping the bed over in the process of forcing him out of bed. It was near noon, and he was up last night studying various plants, trying to extract oils for a sort of experiment.  His mother had forced him to get dressed and be downstairs in minutes for he had something important to do. What she did not say what that he would be have a guest, and that guest? Was the famous, Rita Skeeter. Of course. Before he had time to even utter a good morning, his mother with floating tea announced that she was tired of him being alone; and, that since he is his only son as of right now, it is his duty to carry the gene and the name. “He has to find a wife. He has to get married. He has to produce children” was all she said before leaving the two for an interview, of course, she was never so far away.  “So…”  He awkwardly asked the woman, making it known that he hated the entire situation and that his mother was idiotic and he had better things to do like going back to his studying of plants than sit here on the most uncomfortable chair ever to exist. 

“Mother isn’t sitting me up with you, is she?”

Rita watched the younger wizard shift in his seat with amusement - she herself was sitting on a much more comfortable, if plainer, chair. His antics did much to relax her, and now the excitement of a juicy interview was ebbing back. She had been rather nervous since she’d known she’d landed this job. It had been years, but it did not seem that long ago since she’d learned to be very careful around the family that had produced the madwoman that was then Bellatrix Black. However, the chance of interviewing the younger Black son - now the sole heir of the old family and not-so-incidentally the most eligible bachelor in the highest circles, was simply too delectable to pass up, and now she sat across the young man, dressed in her best magenta robes and doggedly ignoring the dark and imposing surroundings and even more imposing Walburga Black who was probably listening at a keyhole or something along those lines.

Rita grinned at Regulus as he spoke and the grin widened when he finished.

“Oh, no, dear, I’m the reporter. But you let her know I’m available, as well,” she lowered her voice and waggled her eyebrows, joking - mostly - the Blacks were extremely wealthy. She stuck out her hand without waiting for a response:

“Rita Skeeter, Witch Weekly. I’m here to interview you for our column’s Most Eligible Wizarding Bachelor special, and I have just one goal today, m’dear - make you appear all lovely and charming for the public and all those fancy, single ladies,” she looked Regulus up and down, eyes gleaming…

“Shall we get started?”

[tromper-in-black]

“If there’s one hard lesson I’ve learned since I left Hogwarts”—’Or rather since Sirius left’—“Is never trust reporters on anything” he made a face at her suggestion, playful or not, “Especially ones that run gossip columns”  He dropped his head, shaking, perhaps even laughing if not for the heat, the uncomfortable chair, and the eyeing presence of his mother. Even at 19 years old, he felt like he was a puppet, still attached to his mother. She lifted a finger and his whole arm would bend over backwards. Eventually he let up and brought one of the lemonades that was resting on the garden table to his lips, looking at the swirling yellow and white instead of at her. 

“I’d say write me as one of the laziest, inconsiderate, abusive asshole that you have ever met in hopes that people would finally stop snapping at me to date their daughters and leave me alone.”

Putting the drink down, he wondered if maybe he could make a freak accident. The chair explodes or the lemonade explodes sending shattered glass all over rendering the area a hazard and the interview a bust. Yet, his own little guilt, something he thought he ripped away in his younger years refused to let him do just that.  “But, that won’t make good for a story, would it?” Against his better judgement (and for his back as he leaned backwards to the chair, propping his leg up in an arrogant manner) “Fine, ask away. Not like other reporters haven’t tried.”

[tromper-in-black]

Stuck in Walls {Kingsley & Regulus}

This really wasn’t want Regulus imagined. Really, it was far from it. It was bad enough that he had to venture outside to begin with and venture far from home. It was bad enough that he had to venture outside for some errands that apparently his mother made promises too and decided to send her son out. Of course, it had nothing to do with Regulus, but it was Regulus she chose and when the Mother Black makes a decision nobody disagrees. So, he rumbled out of his room, in his slacks and a simple white shirt, grumbling.  That should have been the end of it—just go to the ministry, pick up some papers, come back and give it to his precious mother. She promised him that should he accomplish that, she would leave him alone for the day. At least I could get the remaining 20 hours away from her. 

It was a nice gamble, for nothing seemed tricky or completely out of the way other than a mother masking her son as an errand boy. Though, fools beware, especially fools with the name of Regulus has nothing is every simple when dealing with the Ministry of Magic. He was fooled by the easy ride into the place (no left over floo powder or dust in his eyes this time) and he was fooled by nobody questioned him or bothered him, despite being a Black. He almost smirked at how eerily easy this mission was and nothing was ever easy when it came to his family.  And yet...Here he was, stuck, in a broom closet of all things.  It happened while he was walking outside of the office, holding the papers tightly within his hands. He had saw something, small and grey even shinning silver. It almost reminded him of, well, Kreacher. The family house-elf who Regulus had taken a liking towards since he was a child. Turning his heel he followed the small silver animal, intrigued by its presence and how not a single witch or wizard took notice. He followed and followed and followed—bam

Stumbling backwards, he had walked into a wall. A plane brick wall. Holding his nose, scowling he turned around and was hit once again by a door that slammed with a—”shush” and a “lock”. 

“What the hell?” Regulus took out his land, snapping alohomora for the door to open and yet it failed to work. He tried again with aberto. Sighing, seeing no other option but to make a mess, he flicked his wrist, yelling "Cistem Aperio" as a bright white light flew out of the tip of his wand. Once the light cleared, the door stood still, undamaged, even mocking Regulus.

“Come on!” He banged on the door, hoping that the sound would alert someone’s attention. “I’m...I’m stuck here! Can anyone hear me?”  Nothing is ever simple at the Ministry of Magic.

[veraavery]

tromper-in-black:

A small laugh as he took another puff of the smoke. It was an honest soft laugh. The kind that is hardly heard anymore. 

“Maybe, there is a part of me, that wants me to get caught? After all, she can’t exactly kill me. Who else does she have that she can force me to marry?” 

“That’s the difference between you and me,” Vera responded in a somewhat disdainful tone, “I like to keep my mother happy.” It wasn’t that Vera never disobeyed her parents. Far from it. But over the years she’d gotten excellent at hiding things from them.

[tromper-in-black]

Regulus scoffed, “Why would you ever?” He asked, an honest question for he could not understand why anyone would want to make their mother happy. “What is the worse that they could do? They still need an heir” 

[tromper-in-black]

Fix a Broom-Broom {James & Regulus}

“Stupid, idiotic, waste of money…” Regulus grumbled more to the outside world than to himself. He was in a sour mood and his entire gait spoke of it. He didn’t bother saying excuse me, to have proper manners as his mother taught him. He allowed himself to bump into people as he pleased, one time even walking into a post that he blew up in his anger. Regulus was, frankly, acting like a brat.  Of course, in his mind, he had every right to be for floating behind him was the broken pieces of his broomstick. The very same that he paid a pretty steep amount of galleons. Since he left Hogwarts, that meant that he had to step down from his seeker position. It was annoying, for it was one thing to not physically attend Hogwarts for his last year and graduation, it was another thing to not attend extra activities. It took a lot of convincing and a few bribes for him to remain part of Slug Club. 

However, being outside of the school and her laws gave Regulus freedom. He was able to fly how he wanted and how far he wished and preform stunts that he knew would be off-limits for the school. There are certain laws and protections in place when it comes to riding broomsticks. Frankly, Regulus scoffed at those laws. It doesn’t take a genius to properly ride a broomstick. Though, because Regulus has more freedom, that also meant that he needed a better broomstick.  He had meant a wizard while shopping for equipment at Knockturn Alley—he apparently made his living off of a black market trade of broomsticks and dragons. He told Regulus that he could give him the finest, fastest, and best wood quality that came from the Russian school, where they rode entire trees instead or branches. Regulus decided to take the chance and bought the broomstick. For a while, it accommodated his speed and recklessness. It wasn’t until he did four small and twisted loops in the air before the back of the branch fell off and small twigs fell apart. By the time he had returned to the ground, the branch was in pieces, completely unsafe to fly.   Thus, here he was, attending the only shop that fixes broomsticks as he would have to wait months before he could order a new one. Of course, that also meant that Regulus would have to venture out and interact with other people. No matter, it was his fault and he had to fix it—there was no other choice.  “Look” Regulus practically snapped, entering the shop, “I don’t want to be here, but I have a situation and this is the only shop I can find in the area and I need this fixed quickly” He floated his broken stick to the front of the shop, thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people today. “Can you do it? I can pay you however much you need. Trust me.” Money was never an issue for him. 

Humming as he approached the front, “Can you get it fixed soo—” His eyes widen, practically turning white as his lower jaw hung open his fingers into fists, “YOU!?”

Yes…This was not the best place for Regulus. Not at all.

[buckoff-potter]

To some, it was hard to tell Sirius and Regulus apart. Had Regulus walked into anyone else’s store, they may have had to take a double take. But James recognised the youngest Black brother the moment he followed his floating wand through the door.

“Our repairman will be in this afternoon.”

[tromper-in-black]

Regulus scowled at how nonchalant the other man was being, as if his older brother didn’t leave him for—He grunted, trying to put on a civil smile. After all, he was still talking to a pureblood. He was raised with certain decorum. 

“Does this shop have only one repairman?”

[tromper-in-black]

Fix a Broom-Broom {James & Regulus}

“Stupid, idiotic, waste of money...” Regulus grumbled more to the outside world than to himself. He was in a sour mood and his entire gait spoke of it. He didn’t bother saying excuse me, to have proper manners as his mother taught him. He allowed himself to bump into people as he pleased, one time even walking into a post that he blew up in his anger. Regulus was, frankly, acting like a brat.  Of course, in his mind, he had every right to be for floating behind him was the broken pieces of his broomstick. The very same that he paid a pretty steep amount of galleons. Since he left Hogwarts, that meant that he had to step down from his seeker position. It was annoying, for it was one thing to not physically attend Hogwarts for his last year and graduation, it was another thing to not attend extra activities. It took a lot of convincing and a few bribes for him to remain part of Slug Club. 

However, being outside of the school and her laws gave Regulus freedom. He was able to fly how he wanted and how far he wished and preform stunts that he knew would be off-limits for the school. There are certain laws and protections in place when it comes to riding broomsticks. Frankly, Regulus scoffed at those laws. It doesn’t take a genius to properly ride a broomstick. Though, because Regulus has more freedom, that also meant that he needed a better broomstick.  He had meant a wizard while shopping for equipment at Knockturn Alley—he apparently made his living off of a black market trade of broomsticks and dragons. He told Regulus that he could give him the finest, fastest, and best wood quality that came from the Russian school, where they rode entire trees instead or branches. Regulus decided to take the chance and bought the broomstick. For a while, it accommodated his speed and recklessness. It wasn’t until he did four small and twisted loops in the air before the back of the branch fell off and small twigs fell apart. By the time he had returned to the ground, the branch was in pieces, completely unsafe to fly.   Thus, here he was, attending the only shop that fixes broomsticks as he would have to wait months before he could order a new one. Of course, that also meant that Regulus would have to venture out and interact with other people. No matter, it was his fault and he had to fix it—there was no other choice.  “Look” Regulus practically snapped, entering the shop, “I don’t want to be here, but I have a situation and this is the only shop I can find in the area and I need this fixed quickly” He floated his broken stick to the front of the shop, thankfully, there weren’t a lot of people today. “Can you do it? I can pay you however much you need. Trust me.” Money was never an issue for him. 

Humming as he approached the front, “Can you get it fixed soo—” His eyes widen, practically turning white as his lower jaw hung open his fingers into fists, “YOU!?”

Yes...This was not the best place for Regulus. Not at all.

[tromper-in-black]

Take an Ad Out {Rita & Regulus}

This is incredibly idiotic. 

He sighed, most likely for the 10th time today as he leaned back on the most uncomfortable chair in all of the Wizarding World while sitting outside, at the garden in the backyard of the Manor. He remembered how difficult it was to sit on those chairs as a child and he remembered how his mother reprimanded him to stay still. Though the chairs were beautiful with all sorts of glistening jewels and polished wood—it was uncomfortable. Of course, status means the most. Status above all. He grunted as the one of the jewels dug into his lower back, closer to where his tailbone began. This was honestly the last place he wanted to be and with one of the last people he wanted to interact with—Regulus was rudely awaken by his mother shouting, nearly flipping the bed over in the process of forcing him out of bed. It was near noon, and he was up last night studying various plants, trying to extract oils for a sort of experiment.  His mother had forced him to get dressed and be downstairs in minutes for he had something important to do. What she did not say what that he would be have a guest, and that guest? Was the famous, Rita Skeeter. Of course. Before he had time to even utter a good morning, his mother with floating tea announced that she was tired of him being alone; and, that since he is his only son as of right now, it is his duty to carry the gene and the name. “He has to find a wife. He has to get married. He has to produce children” was all she said before leaving the two for an interview, of course, she was never so far away.  “So...”  He awkwardly asked the woman, making it known that he hated the entire situation and that his mother was idiotic and he had better things to do like going back to his studying of plants than sit here on the most uncomfortable chair ever to exist. 

“Mother isn’t sitting me up with you, is she?”

[princessofpolkadots]

tromper-in-black:

“Cigarettes” 

Originally posted by aneurinaestheticism

“Mother would have my head, wouldn’t she?” 

“Fortunately for everyone, Walburga is nowhere to be found.” Andromeda replied, cheekily. “Though you really should kick that habit.”

[tromper-in-black]

Regulus nearly fell off the stomp he was sitting on once he heard her voice.  It took him a moment, rapid blinking and the cigarette falling onto the ground before he could find his voice. 

“A-andy? What are you doing here?”

[veraavery]

tromper-in-black:

“Cigarettes” 

“Mother would have my head, wouldn’t she?” 

“Then why do it out in the open?” Vera asked. She was herself a smoker, but it was something she kept to herself. Her own mother would definitely have her head if she ever got wind that her daughter craved cigarettes more than a proper lady should.

[tromper-in-black]

A small laugh as he took another puff of the smoke. It was an honest soft laugh. The kind that is hardly heard anymore. 

“Maybe, there is a part of me, that wants me to get caught? After all, she can’t exactly kill me. Who else does she have that she can force me to marry?” 

[tromper-in-black]

“Cigarettes” 

“Mother would have my head, wouldn’t she?” 

[regaldaffodil-blog]

“Yes, but with good reason this time.” She said genuinely concerned about her cousin. Regulus was one of the few people she loved. 

“Fortunately for me, Lucius doesn’t smoke, otherwise I’d have to make him quit it.” Narcissa gave him a half smile, hoping to soften her previous words.

[tromper-in-black]

Regulus scowled, “What can cigarettes do that a killing curse can’t? Or the crucio?” He didn’t mean to snap at her; Narcissa was one of the few family members he honestly liked. If anything, he got closer to his cousins after his brother had left. 

Softening up a bit, his scowl turned into a smile, “I hope he’s treating you well.” 

[luciusofmalfoy]

tromper-in-black:

“Cigarettes” 

Originally posted by aneurinaestheticism

“Mother would have my head, wouldn’t she?” 

“I rather think you have bigger worries.”

[tromper-in-black]

“And what would you know of them?” Regulus frowned, “Everyone has worries. Even you.” 

[tromper-in-black]

“Cigarettes” 

“Mother would have my head, wouldn’t she?”