Red Wine and Red(er) Suits
It was a week before Christmas and Regulus Black was drenched head to toe in blood. It spattered as he pulled the knife out of the still warm body, ruining some perfectly good snow.
Grabbing a rag from his pocket, Regulus cleaned the knife delicately, shoving it back into its sheath before tossing the rag with the threaded silver initials RAB on top the corpse. Later he’d labor meticulously over his knifes, making sure each was taken care of properly, but for now he had other matters to attend to.
“Bring him here.”
Out of his peripheral, Evan shoved the dead man’s crony forward, forcing him to his cowering knees in the growing slush of bloody snow.
“Pl- Pl- Please, I-I I swear I didn’t k-know. I’m innocent I swear.” The man’s trembling lip prevented him from forming coherent words but Regulus found his pitiful attempts amusing.
For a short while.
“Enough.” He spoke softly, almost teasingly, but the man shut up instantly.
“What is your name?”
Regulus already knew his name of course, but he found amusement in gaging the reaction of his targets, whether they’d lie or not.
“Marcus.” Truth.
“And tell me Marcus, if you are so innocent, then what are you doing here?” Regulus smiled cruelly, enjoying the way he squirmed.
“I was, I was coerced. Yes, you see, my daughter is very, um, very sick and I was promised that if I-“
This time he didn’t even bother speaking, just simply gesticulating his hand lazily through the air, consequently silencing a bumbling Marcus.
“Evan, was that really what our dear friend Marcus here was doing?”
Evan grinned, shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe so.”
Before Marcus could sputter another excuse Regulus spoke again. “And what, pray tell, was he doing?”
“I believe the proper terms are stealing our merchandise, cheating us out of profits, and spoiling our business connections. Or as I like to put it, being a fucking slimy cunt,” Evan spat.
“Thank you, Evan. Now Marcus,” Regulus bent down so he was level with the vermin before him, “would you like to know what we do with fucking slimy cunts?”
He struck before Marcus could even even begin to respond, three quick swipes, fast as a viper. This time the blood flow was controlled, trickling slowly out of the empty eye sockets and pooling with the slush surrounding the two corpses.
Regulus whipped a bit of the red substance off his cheek, annoyed. Some people just had no sense of boundaries.
“Get Barty and Magnus over here to clean this up,” Regulus said, gesturing apathetically behind him as he marched away, black trench coat contrasting cynically with the chilly NYC streets.
“I’ve got a Christmas party to attend.”
——————
30 minutes later Regulus was freshly showered and dressed in a pristine dark green suit, not a trace of blood in sight.
The door to the limo was pulled back, exposing him to the numerous flashes and greedy shouts of press crowding around the entrance to the Black Building.
Taking a breath, Regulus stepped confidently onto the plush red velvet rolled out before him.
Walk, stop, pose, walk, stop, pose, walk…
Two short minutes of hard wired routine later and he was inside the confines of his own hotel. Now the real work began.
Immediately he was swarmed by his team, all falling in to their familiar routine. Dorcas debriefed him in hushed tones on tonight’s honored guests while Vince and Finn double checked his appearance, adding a few touches here and there to cover the occasional bruise or eye-bag.
“Your brother will not be in attendance and Pandora has already-“
“Dorcas,” Regulus cut her off impatiently, “ I don’t need the gossip column. Just tell me who’s going to be more of a problem than usual and let me deal with it in my own way.”
His assistant rolled her eyes, an action anyone else would have shuttered at the mere thought of preforming in his presence but which had become a common occurrence in all their time together, and snapped closed the black file.
“There’s a new emergence of a family of entrepreneurs who run numerous nonprofits. They claim to not take a dime and yet they are exceedingly rich. Your father has invited them here tonight but it seems only their son was able to come. His name is James Potter. Your father wishes that you scope him out and asses what kind of damage he and his families organization could wreck on the Black empire.”
Regulus fought the urge to rub his eyes in bordem. Every few months a new group of entrepreneurs or environmentalists or do-good meddlesome pieces of shit rise up to the outer reaches of the Blacks radar and every few months Regulus is assigned the task of getting rid of them. His father claims it’s a big honor and he’s doing his part to help the family but Regulus knows he’s really a glorified toilet, flushing away all the problems no one else would care to handle.
“Honestly where is people’s creativity? The last shit I dealt with also ran a nonprofit, I highly doubt this one will be any different,” Regulus scoffed, yanking up the cuffs of his suit.
Dorcas grinned as the door to the Blacks grand ballroom opened. “Some things never change.”
—
If there was one thing the Blacks knew how to do, it was event hosting. Regulus’ childhood had been filled with weekly galas and extravagant excuses for the one percent to show off and flaunt their excessive riches more than they already did. Regulus could still remember the disgusting appetizers and boring conversations he’d been forced to instigate with whomever his parents decided was important that week. As he got older things only got more monotonous. Except now, instead of asking about school or his career path, he was bombarded with inquires into his romantic life, wether or not he’d like to date the mayors daughter or if he prefers blonds or brunettes.
To say it was exhausting would be an understatement. Regulus was always tired, born with a natural disinterest in the activities of others that made concealing his disgust with everything around him an eternally draining affair, but the intrusions into his personal life were particularly tiresome.
And he was yet again disappointed with humanity when 5 minutes later someone would ask the same question someone else had just asked.
Humans, in Regulus’ opinion, were extremely unoriginal creatures. They merely copied and hoped to be copied in turn.
After thirty minutes of fielding questions from gluttonous politicians (yes, he and his family have noticed the success of your branch but unfortunately we will not be able to make any major investments yet, and no, kindly, I am not interest in your daughter at the present moment), Regulus decided it was time for a drink.
While he was far from an alcoholic, Regulus had found that if he didn’t limit himself, at least partially, he became more short tempered then usual. It had disastrous repercussions. He could still feel the scars from his fathers belt the last time he let his tongue slip lose at such an occasion.
“Ah, the red wine, de classé!”
Regulus looked up in confusion, wondering whose horrible attempt at French that was. He found the culprit a few feet away and on the opposite side of the elaborately decorated table. He had dark hair that looked like ridiculously fluffyobscuring dark brown eyes, tucked away behind wire framed glasses.
“I too am drinking the red wine,” the man said, raising his glass slightly.
Regulus took a condescending sip of his, eyes locked on the strangers.
“Not much of a talker are you?”
How observant, Regulus thought, already bored out of his mind.
“That’s ok, I can talk to myself for hours.”
“Have fun then,” Regulus quipped, turning on his heel and marching back into the crowd.
——
It was hours later when Regulus saw red wine man again. Well, it was more like the first time in hours that red wine man saw him. Regulus had been keeping tabs on him throughout the night, not for any particular reason. He’d been unable to find this James Potter fellow and instead of asking his father, Regulus had resigned to observing the funny little glasses man interact with New Yorks elite.
All had been going well - meaning he’d successfully managed to people watch without too many interruptions - until he’d seen the Prime Minister making his not so subtle way towards where Regulus was, to put it bluntly, lurking like an antisocial creep. He knew if he was to be forced to discuss foreign relations with this pig, he’d need another glass. Maybe two.
“Another red wine? You certainly have specific taste.” This time the man was on the same side of the table and far too close for Regulus’ comfort.
“Hey look at us! Christmas colors!” Glasses man gestured excitedly at his eye sore of a suit, all red, and at Regulus’ tasteful dark green.
He opened his mouth to say more but Regulus had had enough.
“Can I help you?” He had no energy left and the very little he did he was conserving for the fast approaching Minister, and this bumbling fool was becoming quite a nuisance.
“Yes actually. I’ve been told by countless sources that you’re the man to talk to for some, uh entertainment at this thing. It’s proved quite uneventful so far.”
What- the- fuck? Did this idiot seriously just try to-
“Is this some kind of sex thing?” Regulus blurted, surprise overtaking common sense.
The man back tracked quickly, quite flustered.
“What no! I mean not that I’m- no I’m- gay rights -and you’re quite attractive I must say, with the whole Bond villian thing- I’m getting off track forgive me. No I’m not trying to seduce you. Im just really bored.”
Regulus kept his face disinterested, but inside he was audible face palming. Some people are truly disturbing.
“And what gave you the idea that I would be the right person to pester with your childish boredom?” Regulus was throughly confused. Most people only approached him to coax some kind of recognition or deal with his family business, or because they were forced to.
Never for fun.
“Your overall charming and inviting aura?”
Regulus was honestly considering punching this man, right then and there.
Unfortunately, the Prime Minister had maneuvered all pudgy 5’1 of himself through the crowd and was waiting awkwardly to be acknowledged.
Regulus shot the stranger the most scathing look he could manage and turned to the tiny man, plastering of his best fake smile.
“Prime Minister Calhoun! What can I do for you?”
“Regulus dead boy! How are you, how’s the family?”
Tyrannical and insane.
“Wonderful, truly wonderful! It’s been a great year, with the extensions in Europe and all-“ now comes the time to flatter - Regulus really regretted not having more wine - “and none of it would be possible without your continued efforts. We owe you a great deal.”
The words came out through clenched teeth but the Prime Minister was so busy accepting the praise he’d fooled himself into thinking he was worthy of that he didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes yes, well you know, I’m always happy to do the Black Family a favor. You’re truly exceptional. Now, I was wondering if I could take a moment to talk to you about something that’s been trouble me recently.” The pudgy man leaned in, as if the information in the astronomically limited reach of his brain was something of great consequence.
Regulus obliged, leaning in like the dutiful, sane son he’d been playing all these years.
“It’s about my daughter. You see she’s turning 18 next month and while there are many prospects for her to consider wedding-“
Wedding? At eighteen?
“- none of them have quite wowed me. You know how it is, all with tremendous fortunes but not a lot going on in the upstairs department if you catch my drift.”
See it enough in the mirror do you?
The Minster chuckled, letting his small mind fool him into the well imagined idea that he was of high intellect. “So, that leads me to my point. I was wondering if you would be interested in courting her.”
Please kill me now.
“Oh that sounds like a lovely op-“
“Excuse me.”
Regulus and the prime minister turned to face the man in the red suit, who had disappeared for a short while - not that regulus had been keeping tabs on him or anything preposterous like that - and was now hovering with a glass of wine displayed elegantly in his hand.
“Yes? What is it?” The prime minister snipped, in a rush to get back to pestering Regulus.
“Yes, I couldn’t quite help but notice that your daughter is nowhere to be seen.”
The Prime minister looked around frantically to find that this was true.
“And as Regulus’ romantic consultant-“
My pray-fucking-tell what?
“-I regret to inform you that without physical proof of his prospects, we will have to table this generous offer until we may observe the lucky lady in person. Not out of vanity, heavens no, but as a precaution. You understand how it is, with the Berlin debacle of 1982, we must take all precautions. So if you please, we’ll be on our way. A host of people await giddily for an attempt to woe Mr. Black here.”
And with that, the man stepped back and gestured grandly into the crowd.
Regulus, for once in his life, was too stunned to speak.
Here this preposterously annoying man who had been subconsciously bugging him all night - without his knowledge that he was doing so but still the annoyance holds true- was now offering him an escape from yet another disappointing excuse for a conversation .
It’d be foolish not to take it.
“Yes, sorry Prime Minister. But please, find me any time tonight, with your daughter of course, and I’d be more then happy to discuss the situation further.”
And with that, Regulus slipped off into the crowd, tailing after the strange man in the red suit.
--
He was easy enough to follow, maybe because his suit looked like a mutilated corpse - Regulus would know; he spent many hours with the things - and soon they were on the other side of the ballroom, a safe distance from any nagging politicians but disappointingly far from the wine table.
"Oooh that was so fun! Who should we do it to next?" The man looked around excitedly.
"Excuse me?" Regulus was having trouble believing that this was, in fact, a real person before him.
" We've already covered some of Europe so that just leaves ... Oh I know! Are there any Australian ambassadors here?"
Regulus stared dumbfounded as the man waited expectantly for an answer. Then he exploded.
"Ok first of all, there is no we. There never has been and there is never going to be. Second of all, not all of us are here to flaunt hideous suits. Some of us actually have important business to attend to and don't have time to spare being dragged into childish antics all for the sake of amusement. Now if you don't have something of concrete intellect to contribute to the conversation, I will be leaving now."
The man hesitated for a few seconds before slowly raising his hand, a genuinely hurt look splaying across his features. "You think my suits hideous?"
"Down right appalling, actually."
"But it's my best red!"
"Well, do better." And with that Regulus turned sharply on his heel and marched back into the crowd