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Chapter 25
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"Don't act nervous."
"Please, you've never seen me nervous and you never will." Yes, Regulus can agree with that particular statement.
Poppy Evans had been many things during their Hogwarts days; an uppity mudblood, a self-admitted bitch, but nervous had never been an expression he'd witnessed her showcase, even though she must have felt it at some period in time. Even during their first year when she'd been cornered against a wall, the very first time he can recall ever really taking note of her, she'd just looked supremely unimpressed, no matter how trounced she'd been at the days,
She'd come back swinging in the end. By fifth year, he'd been the only one who'd really decided the outcome was worth the effort of dealing with her. Even then, it'd only been because he'd been falling into her, getting burned and scorched but smothering her beneath the tide of his own energy at the same time.
Time has not changed this; Poppy walks along beside him with her head held high, fiery hair pinned back into a half-twist bun that'd given him a headache as he'd watched her spell it up this morning. She's in a set of respectable deep blue robes, the kind that match her eyes, face clear of any blemishes. It's only in the past week that he's really come to appreciate how cutting her eyes are, what with the usual dark bangs that hang beneath them slowly vanishing with the stress of a Dark Lord lifting from their shoulders.
Leaving Sol with James Potter of all people was less than ideal and he has every intention of getting through this shitshow as quickly as they can to go and retrieve his son. But, with Lily Potter out for a job interview, there hadn't been any other option. He'd not even considered tapping his brother up as a babysitter; it'll be a cold day in hell when Sirius will be left in charge of his impressionable nephew.
"Just look like you're too important for people to bother. Most of that I picked up from watching your peers," Poppy admits, levelling a cool gaze his way from the corner of her eyes as the approach the registration desk. "Then, I just toned down the level of self importance to make it look like I actually belonged instead of seemingly like a puffed-up peacock that's disgusted in its surroundings." Of course, she has to get a little dig in there somewhere.
"I'm glad you learnt something from your betters."
Poppy's smile is like ice as she slides her hand into his, grip just a shade short of being painful.
The desk-jockey dribbles their way through the usual greeting and request for a wand; Poppy holds it out to him but refuses to relinquish her hold entirely, regardless of the dirty stare she gets in return.
"I'm muggleborn and we've just finished a war looking to eradicate people like me. You're a few flicks short of a charm if you think I'm letting go of my wand in a public space."
And this? This is why they get along. They have a similar level of paranoia, just different things to be suspicious of. The receptionist scowls, quickly scribbling down whatever drivel the Ministry requires of its visitors before he turns on Regulus next. The process repeats. The scowl gets a little tighter. It's been ten minutes since they left Sol in the presence of an anxious James Potter. Ten minutes too long.
"-and you're here to see-" He pauses, peering at the stuck to the front of their robes. "-Madam Bones?"
"Yes. We know the way," Poppy cuts in, striding away from the desk already and Regulus matches her ridiculous walking pace, if only so he won't end up getting his arm wanked out of its socket as she's yet to let go of his hand.
"Feeling particularly attached, are we?" he drawls under his breath, taking the momentary pause outside the elevators to step a little closer to Poppy's side, ignoring the way some low-rung Ministry worker is staring at them, as if trying to place their faces.
"You are the one that wants to see the star-crossed-lovers' tale," Poppy hisses lowly, angling her head towards him, tilting forwards slightly so she can have those burning blue eyes searing through her eyelashes to look at him. She's hardly wrong and he supposes the great show and dance should start here.
With that in mind, he brings her hand up to his mouth, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a dry kiss. Her expression softs and he's certain only half of it is part of the act.
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Madam Bones' office resides in the bowels of the Auror department. As second in command, she's the one running the show, what with Crouch off holding court in the Death Eater trials. Heh, wonder what the reaction will be when they catch up with his only child.
The woman pauses in her paperwork, eyes scanning the two of them as Poppy closes the door with a flick of her wand. Then, she's placing the quill back in the ink pot, a pinched expression over taking her face.
"This is going to go down well," she mutters to herself before gesturing to the two chairs before her desk. "Take a seat. Is it Mrs Black?"
"He wishes. Miss Evans for now until he can prove he's useful."
At that, Regulus grits his teeth, turning his best glare on the woman beside him. Poppy smiles, straight white teeth like sharp daggers, lips bloody and red.
"I can see this is going to be a long discussion. One moment please."
As Madam Bones scribbles something down onto a small cut of parchment, Regulus fires a heated glare to Poppy, which she returns with a simple raised brow. They'd talked it through before coming here; they'd offer Bones information if she made an unbreakable vow to never reveal the source. The information, of course, being just who had offed the Dark Lord. No information on the method used (Regulus is proud of his first foray into murders most successful, but he's not stupid; there's still a chance they'll lock him up for it, even if he doesn't admit to where the basilisk poison came from, probably would lock him up if he didn't admit to it).
If she didn't take up the offer… they were going to have to do some quick talking. Luckily enough, both of them are particularly good at that, Regulus more so than Poppy. He's been formally trained in dodging the law, after all, even if the family would call those lessons 'dealing with the incompetents of the Ministry'. Grandfather's words, not his.
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It takes exactly twenty-two minutes to get through it all. Poppy takes out the one picture of their little family of three on the nineteenth minute, once the whole shit about killing Voldemort has been admitted beneath the security of an unbreakable vow. Sol, in all his pudgy baby glory offers a toothless, gummy grin at the camera, the image of Poppy cooing over him as Regulus stands besides her and tries not to look too awkward. It's Evans' fault, Lily, that is. She'd been the one taking the photo and insisted they 'look like family'.
Only, Regulus definition of a family photo is evidently very different to the Evans sisters' understanding of it.
"While it is a relief to have one question answered," Madam Bones begins, forefinger and thumb pressing into the flesh of her temples and looking remarkably like the Hogwarts staff having to deal with the Marauders (a comparison Regulus is dismayed to make inside the safety of his own mind), "you are not going to make my job very easy."
He pinches Poppy's forearm ever so gently before she can an asinine comment about that not being a concern of hers.
"Understandable. Thank you for taking the time to hear us out." In the coming months, he'll have few friends as his ties to Poppy are revealed, having one in the Auror department who'll fight his corner is ideal.
"I'll make sure you get your pardon, Black. In fact-" her eyes gleam (weren't the Bones related to them too a few generations back?) "-how were your grades before skipping out on Hogwarts?"
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"I can't believe she's going to try and swing you in as an unspeakable operative."
They've left the Ministry now through the usual Wizarding exit, walking out into Diagon Alley through the little cut through only those with families who'd helped build the place know about. From the shrewd way Poppy is taking the buildings they pass by in; he doesn't doubt she'd be able to find it herself the next time she has use of it.
"Well, it would be believable." The idea that he'd thrown away everything for Poppy Evans before he'd even dropped out of Hogwarts isn't exactly something he wants getting around (especially as it's not true; he'd thrown everything away for Sol, after all), but if that's what it takes to remain a free man… Regardless of the potential implications the lie has towards his reputation (something that will be in tatters soon enough anyway), the thought of being near enough adopted into the Unspeakables isn't an unpleasant one. It's a decent career path; more than a few Black had been involved in the shady organisation that resides within the depth of the Ministry. His grades had certainly been on track for it, that's for sure.
"Speaking of jobs, I'll be getting back to work once Sol turns one."
"Pardon?"
Poppy stops, one red brow rising on her pale face, wand tapping against her thigh. She's neither pocketed or sheathed it since leaving the building; rampant paranoia at it's finest.
"My job, the one that pays the bills," Poppy repeats slowly, as if he's particularly touched in the head. Or worse, a Goyle.
"You won't need a job," Regulus states, the mere thought preposterous. Blacks didn't work because they had to. If a Black had a job, it was because it was a neat little hobby they'd decided to pick up, to prove their superiority over other fractions of the Wizarding World, or to further establish the influence of the family. Never because they need a job.
Poppy is still looking at him as if he's particularly thick.
"There's no job security with you at the moment and there won't be until you prove your mettle with the Unspeakables. Forgive me if I'd rather place all my dragon eggs in the basket that I hold." Uppity little-
"What job do you even have, anyway."
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"Here comes the broom!"
Twisting the bright green plastic back and forth before the kid in his care, James Potter grins at Sol Evans and the kid grins right back. He's got his wild black hair and his hazel eyes and it's weird as fuck because he's got his own kid on the way now and is this what he's going to look like? Will his little Harry (Lily's not utterly agreed to the name yet but James knows she likes it, knows she'll come around and drop Harold because Harold is an old man's name) have his hair? Have his eyes? Most importantly, will he have his prodigious skill on a broom?
He tucks the spoonful of unappetising baby mush into Sol's mouth, checking that his nephew (his and Sirius' nephew, weird and fuck to think about but ha! They're officially family in a round about way!) has got it all past his lips and not dribbled it down his top. But yes, food successfully placed in mouth and the kid has swallowed. Feeding time is over with zero mess. He's getting better at this.
"All done, Kiddo. Now let Uncle James get you up and outta that chair!" It doesn't look comfortable, not with that weird plastic padding. Easier to clean, both Lily and Poppy had declared, even as Regulus had given as dubious a glance as James was feeling in the background. Besides, what did it matter when they could use cleaning charms? It didn't but, for some strange reason, both Evans sisters insist on wiping the chair down with a wet cloth. Hell, James had one of the muggle highchairs in his own home for when Harry's big enough to sit in it.
He's just pleased Lily allowed him to charm the pattern into golden snitches instead of teddy bears.
At nine months, Sol is crawling away now so James sets the kid down on the living room floor, charming the entrances to gently rebuff him from leaving. He's gotten good at this baby-sitting thing, even if Poppy has never actually left the house before when he's on his own, only ever leaving Sol with Team James and Lily. But now it's just Team James and he. Has. Got. This.
Squatting down beside the baby, James stares into his own hazel eyes and Sol stares right back.
"Alright, Kiddo, wanna impress your Uncle James? Can you say Mama?" Blank eyes. Hey, is this what Lily had seen whenever he'd been staring at her? No wonder she'd never given him the time of day.
He rests one hand on the kid's back as he begins pulling himself up onto his feet using the sofa. Just as the door is thrown open.
Both of them freeze, staring towards the hallway as Poppy Evans and a not-detained-after-all Regulus Black roll in like a mismatched storm. Pulling her hair free of the updo and shrugging off the robe to reveal the sundress beneath, Poppy Evans scans the house with a brutal efficiency, zeroing in on the two of them in an instant. She's quick to abandon Regulus in the hallway, sauntering over and plucking up her child with a practiced ease.
Sol, well, Sol obviously has his favourite among them with how he reaches out to grip her loose hair, nestling his head into the crook of her neck.
"Thank you for looking after him, James." And yes, first name basis with the Sister-in-Law. Voldemort is dead, Lily is going to be giving birth to their first born sometime next month and Poppy Evans is actually warming up to him. Things are looking up.
Of course, it's right around the moment when Regulus runs his hand across the top of Sol's head that the kid turns back to James, eyes the same startlingly bright blue of his mother's as his mouth opens and says "Jay."
And just like that, all the goodwill is gone.
Again, no excuse. Just a chapter. Yes, Sol's first word was a nickname for his Uncle James. No, it did not go down well.
Enjoy and please stay safe wherever you are?
Tsume
xxx