King of Swords [ Regulus Black ]

Chapter 33

The streets outside of Whitehall are completely devoid of muggles. The city has not lost all of them, but the ones that remain stay tucked in their burrows and high rises. The busses run sparsely, a few per day. British military forces fly helicopters overhead, looking for signs of an emergency they can't see through. It is jarring to see the capital so empty.

A chill overtakes the air, despite another month of summer left looming. Without the sun, we are little more than dark masses moving through the ether.

I hold my breath as Slick and I fall into the throws of wizarding folk starting toward the phone booths and public toilet cubicles. My cloak hood is pulled taut against my hair. Ministry officials and general workers have opted to wear cloaks and boots rather than their usual suits. We appear as if we are marching into war rather than attending desk jobs and signing paperwork.

Slick appears cool and calm in the heart of this furnace roar. There is nothing outwardly suspicious about him save for the grin he wears. If he is recognized, nobody seems to care enough to prod at why a Gringott's worker is here. We are nobody to them, which is exactly what we want to be.

Yaxley and Maslin are already inside. By now, Maslin will be telling the head department that Haro has gone on official business to France and his son will offer assistance for any duties that need handling.

My heartbeat calms as we approach the phone booth. Slick departs first, offering me a wave before the floor gives out beneath him. I am next, my hand goes to the door but before I can grasp it, my wrist is tugged behind my back.

I would scream, but that would only draw attention myself. It doesn't matter anyway, the chest I am being held to smells like spiced cologne. I grip Regulus' cloak with all of my might, because that is far better than being splinched. With a crack, we depart.

I choose not to die today, I whisper to myself.

"Well you're on a fast track to making sure you do," Regulus says as we land amongst the darkened shelves of the Hellenic library. The space is silent, no security guard in sight. Evidently ancient teachings don't mean much when the populace is fighting for their lives.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't have a hand in that," I deadpan, stepping away tucking my hair back into the cloak.

Regulus is staring at me with a betrayed expression that is wholly unfounded. A week ago, I might have dove across the carpet and attacked him but now I just feel a sort of pity. There is a dark tee shirt beneath his cloak, but it doesn't mask the fresh scars that weave over his collarbone any less visible.

"Is that because of me?" I ask.

Regulus shakes his head, "I am Voldemort's favorite general, that doesn't come without its share of blood loss. Though, I wasn't exactly in the highest favor when I allowed Haro Fawley's daughter to escape my hold."

"Yeah well, you're a pretty shit prison guard," I say, "leaving amortentia in your night stand was unwise."

Regulus hmmph's, "love is a detriment. You're a pretty shit spy, I clocked you immediately. What's your plan here?"

"Making it up as I go along," I lie. I may never make it into the ministry at this rate, but I refuse to sell out the others. Slick will know by now that I am not coming in, I can only hope the rest of the morning is smoother.

There is a moment where our eye contact does not falter, regardless of how badly I want to look away. I recall Maslin and I's conversation in the courtyard, It is so hard to tell if there is something left to save beneath Regulus' chilling facade.

"Are you going to kill me? if you're not, I'd like to return to Whitehall now," I say.

"If you want to die, I am not going to stop you," Regulus responds, the words fall quick and without emotion. "I keep my promises."