Only the Brave

Chapter 44: Of Summer Weddings

Weddings are ridiculous, Regulus thinks as he takes a seat on the front row, kicking his legs out in front of him. On the chair to his right, Walburga wrinkles her nose, but she doesn't say anything.

Not anymore.

Walburga tried, of course. Oh, how she tried to remind Regulus that she's his mother. Older. The one who birthed him and raised him (debatable, Regulus is convinced he raised himself and Sirius helped where he could). That she's a proper lady, and a good pureblood witch. Oh. Walburga tried to lord her status over his head. As though the fact that she married her cousin and spawned two children means Regulus ought to listen to her. To respect her.

Regulus had no choice but to teach the old hag a lesson. It was two days ago when it happened. She tried to shout at him for having sent Kreacher on an errand when she wanted him to prepare her tea. Regulus used his strangling curse on her until she was on her knees in the library of Grimmauld Place. When he let her go, he reminded her that she was a guest in his house now. He was Lord Black, and she was a leftover from the previous generation. Out of sheer pettiness, Regulus moved her to a guest room, claiming the master bedroom for himself. And she was appalled by it but accepted it anyway.

It was rather interesting to see how proud his mother was of him for having hurt her. For a moment that night, Regulus distantly wondered if she would have liked Sirius better if he'd hit her back when he was still around. Guess he'll never know.

Now, Walburga knows her place.

The wedding ceremony is taking place in the gardens of Malfoy Manor. It's been decorated rather elegantly, Regulus will admit. There's a raised platform where Lucius and Narcissa will exchange vows, adorned with flowers and silk garlands. The chairs are all lined up in two neat columns, leaving a large aisle in the middle for the bride and groom to walk down. After, the guests will be led inside to the ballroom where a meal will be served, followed by the traditional waltz and party.

Bored out of his mind, Regulus watches people find their seats. So many rich people. Idly, Regulus considers the fact that if something happened to every guest at this wedding, the GDP equivalent of wizarding Britain would diminish by like 25%. And isn't that hilarious.

Except that would include him, and Regulus has no interest in dying any time soon. He's only just begun to have fun with his new magic.

Absently, he pulls the sleeve of his robes back and watches his veins darken. He's becoming rather fond of the visual. Like a reminder that he's strong. Unbreakable. Untouchable.

That in turn reminds him to take out the little flask in his pocket and take a small sip. Water laced with veritaserum and two other common poisons. Just a drop of each, for now. Regulus has decided to build up a tolerance to all of them, just in case, but the veritaserum is the most pressing one. His legilimency and occlumency lessons with his mother are progressing well. Now that he has the magic of Legacy in his veins, he's advancing at a rate so astonishing even Walburga had to be impressed.

It's not enough.

Regulus has too many secrets. He can't risk it. So, he's making himself as immune as he can to the truth serum and common poisons he would use if he were to torture someone to try to force them to give information.

Miserable business, mithridatism. He aches and shakes at night, but he has to take his sleeping draughts anyway. So. Could be worse, he supposes.

"Regulus!" Bellatrix calls, marching down the aisle with the air of importance that comes with being the sister of the bride. "There you are."

"What?" he asks, tilting his head to look at his cousin from his chair.

She's wearing a pretty, dark green dress that brings out the blackness of her long hair. She's quite beautiful, Bellatrix. Objectively. The glint of madness in her eyes only makes her more interesting, Regulus thinks. He's always liked sharp and dangerous things.