Thin White Duke

They landed two blocks away to finalise the plan of attack. 

“Tell me exactly how you escaped. I’m assuming your wands were removed when you entered the function and anti-apparate wards placed on the room.” Regulus said. Evan nodded. “Okay. What else do you remember? I need every detail.” 

“Three men. Parkinson is the leader, Finch and Stone his yes men. Finch was the most sadistic I’m going to cut his balls off if he’s harmed Barty any further.” Evan snarled. 

“Focus. I can regrow anything Barty loses except his head.” Regulus snapped. 

“Parkinson gave the orders but didn’t get his hands dirty. It’s almost as though it’s beneath him. Finch enjoyed doing the dirty blood work and kept pushing for more. He’s a talker too. He kept boasting about how we would be ransomed and sent home in pieces until demands were met. Stone was just like his name. The impassive muscle of the trio. He did the majority of the heavy hitting. Literally. He’s a very very big man.” Evan grimaced. “The more I think about it, the more I realise that while it wasn’t easy, they deliberately let one of us go. Parkinson called a break. I think that was about dawn. Every time one of us passed out we were spelled awake again. I think my right nut is going to be numb for months. Too much info? Anyway, it felt endless. Then the three of them leave. It’s the first time we’re left alone. Each had taken breaks but always left two behind so we couldn’t overpower them. Without the potions and spells to keep awake we both collapsed. Barty had taken more damage but he still helped me crawl to the doorway. At the time it didn’t occur to me that we shouldn’t be able to kick the door open. I slithered through and closed it again and hoped it would look undisturbed. The main room was empty and not yet cleaned. Probably just as well given the trail of blood I left behind. I found our wands stashed behind the bar on tte way to the exit and grabbed them both. I wasn’t able to heal myself enough to apparate until I reached the ground level. It was still too early for there to be any staff so nobody saw me using magic. Not that I usually care but I try not to come to the ministries attention if I can avoid it.” 

“How many exits do you remember?” 

Evan thought about it. “The room we were in gave the impression of solid internal walls like a sore room. One door in and out. The main room had large windows but only the top third opened so cold air came in at about head height. There are fancy double doors which lead straight out to a small foyer and then down a set of stairs to a dining room, small fancy bar and the bathrooms. Another set of stairs then leads down to the ground floor which is where the main public bar is. It has two entrances, both of which lead to the street. One on the corner and the other about ten feet along the main part of the building. There’ll definitely be at least one back entrance from the laneway into the downstairs kitchen and maybe another into the main storage room, and a third from the alley into the beer cellar below ground. We didn’t get the op to do a proper reccy before the party so that’s the best I can do.” 

“That’s fine. It gives me an idea of the layout and where I need you to be.” 

“I’m coming in with you to get Barty.”

“No. You’re going to help me get Barty somewhere safe by staying where I can send him to you.” 

Evan stared at Regulus defiantly. 

“Evan. I can no more lose the two of you than you can lose each other. So I’m telling you. You need to stay at the back of the building and watch all the possible exits leading into the laneway. Once you have Barty go back to the Rosier Mansion. Yes I know you hate it, but no one will attack you there and your father’s unlikely to notice he has guests. I’ll meet you there. Make sure you have plenty of healing potions.” 

Evan huffed a sigh. “Fine. Is it even vaguely sane or even safe what you’re going to do?” 

“Probably not. You ready to go?” 

Evan approached the back of the building in which the party had taken place the night before. The quiet laneway had the familiar stale piss, vomit and fermented yeast smell common to pubs all over the city. It felt almost comforting. Being a public holiday after the biggest party night of the season meant it was much quieter than a normal Thursday evening. Evan could see three people in the kitchen, probably finishing prep for the even meals. He’d seen two bar staff go in after a smoke, so there were probably three inside now. One on the first floor, two on the ground floor, and an unknown number of customers. This could get interesting if Regulus decided to turn whatever he was planning into a statement. 

Regulus wasn’t planning anything in particular. The top priority was getting Barty to Evan using a variation of the spell he used for Voldemort and Nagini the previous year. After that it very much depended on what sort of reception he received. If they wanted to talk. Great. If they wanted a struggle. Fine. Their choice. As always. Regulus felt the slight thrill of walking into a situation where the odds appeared stacked against him. He liked being underestimated despite his reputation. It caught people off guard. Kept him alert. 

The bar was mostly empty. One large table had eight tourists looking a little worse for wear, another smaller table had a couple taking animatedly, and a booth near the back of the room had a couple making out. Behind the bar a good looking man perked up when Regulus glided over to him. 

“G’n’T please. How was the party last night?” Regulus asked slipping into his Siriusesque persona, complete with cheerful tone and impish smile. 

“Wild. Went off down here. The bar upstairs was bonkers. And the party on the third floor. They looked like a bunch of tight stuffy old toffs but mate I heard the last guests left at dawn. Never trust a man in a suit. You don’t know what he might be hiding.” The barman grinned, showing nicotine stained teeth, as he handed Regulus his drink and change. 

“Good night to be working then?”

“Totally. Get the best tips cos everyone feels sorry for ya. What they don’t realise is we’re having our party on the side no matter how busy we are. It’s a blast. Bet you had a good night.” 

“Excellent. Could barely walk this morning.” Regulus answered truthfully. “Do you mind if I look around a bit? Have an event coming up and thought I’d check out some venues.”

“Sure. Do you want a guide? I’ll get Paddy to look after the bar.” 

“Nah. I’ll be back for another drink if you’d like to join me then?” Regulus said with a cheeky grin. 

“You’re on. I’ll be waiting.” 

Regulus saluted the handsome man with his drink and set off to find the miscreants who sought his wrath. 

The layout was as Evan described it. The age of the building meant that none of the windows opened very far or that there were any balconies, which helped eliminate possible physical escape routes. Regulus doubted Barty had any magic left after hours of torture, and few people bothered to learn wandless magic so hopefully that was to his advantage. Regulus had considered a sneak attack but decided against it. He didn’t have time to watch and learn the movements of the men involved or the pub itself, and if they were all in one room then they would see him coming in through the door. So he’d settled on simply walking in. 

“Good evening Gentlemen.” Regulus said, opening the door, drink in hand. He took the scene before him. Parkinson leant against the far wall, with a smug expression enjoying the show. Stone was holding Barty upright as Finch ran a sharp blade lightly down Barty’s scarred and bloody chest. 

“This is never going to get old, pretty boy. You’ll always have silver scars to remember our time together.” 

“You’re never going to get old you mean. And acid again? Really? How mundane.” Barty wheezed through cracked teeth, broken ribs, and a swollen face. 

“I’m afraid he’s right you know.” Regulus said calmly, leaning back against the door which he’d locked unobserved.  

“What the fuck!” Finch yelped, cutting Barty deeper than he’d intended. 

“Ah. Lord Black. I see my messenger reached you.” Parkinson said with an unctuous smile. 

“So it would appear. Any particular reason why you didn’t communicate with me directly?” 

Parkinson gave a laugh that sounded like wet gravel. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

Regulus didn’t bother answering, turning instead to the men mistreating his friend. “I would appreciate it if you would allow my friend and I to leave before any more damage is done.” He said evenly. 

Finch and Stone looked at Parkinson who laughed again. “Really Black? You don’t expect it to be that easy do you? waltzing in and asking politely?” Cyrus Parkinson said. 

Regulus waited, letting silence do the work for him. 

“Stone, Finch, drop the poor bastard in the corner so he’s out of the way. Black, if you can get him, you can leave with him.” Parkinson grinned maliciously. 

Stone and Finch did what they were told before going to stand on either side of Parkinson, filling the space between the two young men. Regulus sighed internally, he really really hated bullies. Externally he remained cold and impassive. 

“You don’t scare us Black.” Finch piped up. 

‘A pigeon wanting to pick a fight with an eagle.’ Regulus thought. ‘A pigeon, a bear, and a weasel.’ 

“Don’t you want to know why we lured you here?” Finch continued. 

Regulus stared at the man. ‘He even looks like a pigeon. Short, balding, wider around the middle than the shoulders, can’t keep his tiny feet still, and his best suit is a dull gray.’ He thought amused. 

“I don’t think he cares.” Stone said slowly. 

“He must or he wouldn’t have shown up.” Finch decided. 

Stone stared at the slim, black clad figure in a tailored shirt, trousers, fine wool overcoat and polished boots, standing like a marble statue in front of the door. He didn’t look in the least bit scary. Not like the Dark Lord or the elder Lord and Lady Black. Properly imposing they were. Regulus studied Stone in turn. Tall, heavyset with a thick neck and enormous shoulders, muscles bulged through the blood stained white shirt and brown suit trousers. Not the type of person to pick a physical fight with anywhere. It would be interesting to see what his magic was like or if he used any. 

“Well Black, not even slightly curious?” Parkinson asked 

Parkinson, the brains behind this inconvenience. Of average height and bland appearance, he managed to exude an oiliness that Regulus found repugnant. Where Angus Parkinson was blunt in his manners and speech, his brother had layers to every utterance and mannerism so it was impossible to tell what he truly meant. ‘It’s like dealing with my mother.’ Regulus thought and continued to draw out the silence. He could just about see Barty, collapsed in the far corner grinning like a madman. He knew what was about to happen. 

Regulus yawned. “Say what you want to say and let’s get this over with. I’ve a busy day tomorrow.” He said. 

Parkinson smiled. “What would it take to call off the wedding?” 

“Why do you care?” Regulus as genuinely curious. 

“Our business interests are not aligned.” 

“I looked over the figures presented and they seemed fine to me.” 

“What would it take Black?” 

“What are you offering?” 

“Your life, and that of your friends.” 

Regulus gave a humorless laugh. 

“I will come after everyone you have ever spoken to. There will be ruined reputations, death, destruction of people and property.” Parkinson hissed. Finch looked like he was about to squeal in excitement. Stone grinned. 

“And how is that different to what Walburga will do?” 

Stone and Finch took a step forward, wands pointed at Regulus. The atmosphere in the room grew frosty. 

“You will never see me coming. You will always be looking over your shoulder. You will never know who will be destroyed next.” 

“Elsbeth and her family were offered the opportunity to call off the wedding. They chose to continue with their commitment.” 

“They had no choice and you know it. But you do. You‘re the Black Heir. You’ve already got the title. You can take the power. We can destroy your parents.”

‘Aha. That’s his objective.’ Regulus thought, showing no reaction. 

“You let Elsbeth go and we can be allies. We can take over the ministry and make things happen. More business. More profit. More power. More wealth.” Greed suffused Parkinson’s face. His eyes gaining a manic sheen. 

“More wealth? More power? Sounds interesting. What will you do right now if I say no?” 

“Stone. Finch. Destroy him!” Parkinson barked, waving his wand and casting a binding spell. 

Regulus strengthened his shields, and cast three binding spells of his own. Finch went down with a scream. Parkinson just got his shield up in time. Stone shrugged the spell off. Regulus instantly cast stupify on Finch who shut up and lay still. 

Stone grinned and took two enormous steps intending to slam into the much smaller man. Regulus waited until Stone was close enough, dropped to his knees and slammed a fist covered in lightening up into the big man’s groin, before rolling sideways out of the way. Stone crashed to the ground in too much agony to even scream. 

Parkinson was furious. “Crucio.” He screamed. 

Regulus sidestepped the spell so it hit Stone instead, causing him to spasm uncontrollably. 

“Cricuo. Crucio. Crucio.”

Regulus managed to duck the first two so they bounced harmlessly off his shield, but the third one got past and caught him on the arm. He ground his teeth in agony. ‘Better than a full body curse’ he thought grimly and promptly fired a series of the same spell back into Parkinson. 

Parkinson had watched with horror as Regulus took down two of his most vicious fighters in seconds, dodged his fastest spells and even shaken one off. ‘Who the fuck is this boy?’ He thought, desperately trying to dodge out of the way of the incoming spells. He failed. He screamed. Barty cackled. 

Regulus stalked over to Parkinson who had sunk writhing on to the floor. “What exactly was your purpose in starting this fight?” He asked conversationally, 

Parkinson screamed as another wave of agony stormed through him. 

“Screaming is good, but it doesn’t answer the question.” Regulus said squatting down. “Elsbeth was the excuse. My friends, the way to get me here. What’s the purpose? Who do you hate so much to invoke my wrath?” 

Parking spasmed then lay still. Regulus plucked the wand out of the shaking hand and cast an immobilizing spell. 

“I’m going to give you a little time to think about whether you want to tell me the truth or you want me wandering through your mind.” Regulus said and stood up. Using Parkinson’s wand he cast crucio on Finch who still lay bound on the concrete floor, and on Stone who had remained unmoving as the first curse wore off. More screams rang out bouncing off the walls. Regulus cast a silencing spell on the three men and made his way to Barty. 

Barty grinned up at the pale face. “Hey Honey. How’s tricks? Nothing to see here.” He croaked. 

“Hmmm. You’re a proper mess, Apples. Here, drink these. They’ll make you feel a bit better until we can get a healer to you.” Regulus handed Barty two vials filled with thick purple liquid. Barty knew better than to argue and downed them instantly. 

“Urgh. Why do your potions always taste so foul?” He grimaced. It took a few seconds before the magic began to flow through Barty’s system. With great care he pushed himself up off the ground. He was still very very unsteady, and the pain throughout his body and head was excruciating. 

Regulus draped an arm around Barty’s waist and Barty’s arm across his shoulders. They were roughly the same height though Barty was stockier and had bulked up since leaving school. “Come on Apples. Evan’s wearing a rut in the laneway.” Regulus said brusquely. 

“Love that boy.” Barty murmured. 

“I know. That’s why I’m doing this. It’s going to hurt.” Regulus said, walking Barty slowly to and through the door out into the laneway. ‘Fuck!’ He thought, scanning the laneway for Evan. ‘Glad that worked.’

Evan had just turned to head back to the corner when Regulus and Barrt walked out of the wall. He ran the few meters before skidding to a stop in front of his lover and cousin. “Are they dead?” He asked 

“No. And they won’t die. At least not right away. It would cause too many problems to have a senior minister and his goons die just after a new years eve  event in muggle London. Don’t worry, there will be retribution. I’ll make sure of that.” Regulus said frostily. “Are you two okay to get back to Rosier Manor?” He asked, handing Evan two more vials. Evan nodded, taking the vials and stashing them in a pocket. “Good. Give Barty the potions in two hours. And call in a healer to make sure there’s no permanent internal damage. The potions will heal most things but not ruptured organs.” 

“Is this one of your concoctions?” Evan asked, Not bothering to hide the awe in his voice. 

Regulus nodded. “Yes. I’ve only used it on one other than myself so there may be side effects I’m unaware of.  Now I must get back to our hosts.” 

They exchanged roguish grins, then Evan and Barty apparated away. Regulus cast invisibility and made his way back to the third floor. 

Cyrus Parkinson and his men remained where he had left them on the floor, though the curses and silencing spells had worn off. Regulus, visible once more, picked up his drink from where he had placed it by the door and sipped slowly. He wished he could see what he looked like, standing casually surveying the scene before him. “How is everyone feeling?” He asked. “Ready to tell me why we’re all here?” Regulus almost laughed. He felt like one of his old tutors. They were always far more gentle than his mother.  

Parkinson snarled. Stone grunted. Finch whimpered. Regulus looked at his watch. He wasn’t in a hurry, simply curious. And there was a cute barman downstairs to flirt with, if he felt so inclined.  The minutes stumbled past. Regulus cast a cleaning spell and made himself comfortable on the only chair in the room. “Well?” He asked. The same responses. “I don’t particularly want to go stomping through your minds as I’m sure they’re exceedingly unpleasant, but I’d like an answer sooner rather than later.” Regulus looked down at Parkinson. “I’m meeting Elsbeth for breakfast in a few hours.”

“Don’t you dare touch her.” Parkinson snarled. Regulus raised a questioning brow. “She’s not yours. She will never be yours.” 

“I agree. Elsbeth belongs to no one but herself.” Regulus said, curious as to why this man was so protective of his niece. 

“That’s what you say now. But once she’s a Black. She’ll be locked away and you’ll control everything.” Parkinson looked at Regulus with so much venom Regulus would have recoiled if it had been the first time he’d been on the receiving end of such a glare. He had, however, been six the first time he’d noticed one. He had accidentally broken a vase in his attempt to get a book down from a high shelf in the front parlour. His mother had walked in to find him sitting, bleeding from multiple cuts, and surrounded by shards of pottery, book in hand. She had glared at him, walked out, and summoned Kreacher to lock the child in his room until morning and mend the vase. Sirius had snuck in to clean and heal the wounds. He still had the book. 

Regulus met Parkinson’s glare with icy eyes. “Elaborate.” He commanded. 

“I know what happens to people who marry into your family. They become prisoners. Turn rancid. You care only for wealth and power.” 

“We have that in common. What actually happened?” Regulus asked

Parkinson thrashed on the floor, constrained and in continual pain from the spells Regulus cast while they spoke. The silence stretched and stretched. 

“He fell in love with Walburga at school but after dating Cyrus for a few months, she decided on Orion, who was richer and had a title coming his way one day. The fact they were cousins and approved by the family was even better. Cyrus has never forgiven her. Does everything he can to undermine her and Orion. Would see them dead if he could get away with it. Elsbeth is the last straw. She’s his favourite you see. Walburga’s stolen everything else.” Finch simpered. 

‘And this is why falling in love is unwise.’ Regulus thought, aware of the uselessness of his thought.  “So you sought revenge by taking out her son?” He asked, allowing amusement to bleed into his voice. “What did you hope to gain by that?” 

“Destroy everything.” Parkinson snarled 

“How big is your fiefdom Cyrus?” Regulus asked, deliberately using the informal first name with a shock of lightening to aid memory. 

“Several businesses across the country. Alliances in Germany and Spain. Influence in the Ministry.” Parkinson ground out. 

“And how big is the Black Empire?” 

“I. Don’t. Know.” 

“Exactly. So what makes you think you could win a war with Walburga, Orion or me?” 

“Elsbeth.” 

“What does she know?” 

Silence hung heavily in the room.  

“It was her ……. Aaaaaarrrgggh!!!!” 

“Truth!”!

“She wants out. She’s scared. My stupid, weak brother is scared.”

“What do I get in return?!

“Freedom.”

 Regulus increased the pain.

“Anything. Everything.” Parkinson screamed. “A. A favour.” 

“I will hold you to that.” Regulus said, satisfied. “In the meantime, you will leave me and my kin alone. If anything happens to anyone I call friend or family then there will be true retribution. Do you understand?” 

Parkinson screamed. “Yes. Yes.” He gasped.

“Finch? Stone?” 

“Yes.” “Yeah.” They both yelled as waves of pain tore through them. 

“Good.” Regulus paused. “When the effects of the spells wear off I recommend you return to your families and do not talk about this again. If I get wind of anything, and I mean anything no matter how small, relating to the events of the last twenty four hours, you will see me again. Is that clear?” 

The three men on the ground screamed their response. Regulus smiled heartlessly. “Goodnight .” He said and left the room. Music from downstairs wafted up. He glanced at his watch. Too early for bed. He wanted. Well what he wanted he couldn’t have so it wasn’t worth fretting over. 

—— 

James was staring at the ceiling. Again. ‘I seem to be doing this a lot lately.’ He thought. Regulus came to mind. A lonely figure, elegantly dressed in a large room. He wished. He sighed. It didn’t matter what he wished. It would be whatever it would be.  With that thought James rolled over and hugged the pillow Regulus had used only that morning. His beautiful Regulus. The one no one else got to see.  And dreamt of standing on a hill, holding his lover close, as they watched the sun rise over a verdant river valley.