Regulus looked into Bella's eyes, into that blazing, undisguised fanaticism, and felt absolutely nothing.
With someone like her, blood meant nothing. The only thing that held a relationship together was a shared goal and shared profit.
And that goal was loyalty to Voldemort.
He went along with her words, smooth and agreeable. "You're right, cousin. I'll keep working to improve myself, so I don't disappoint the family or that great man's expectations."
It was the perfect amount of approval, not too much, not too little. Exactly what Bella wanted to hear.
Sure enough, her smile widened. "I knew you were the sensible one. You're already better than Sirius, that idiot.
Once you're a little older, we'll serve him together. We'll make everyone understand just how powerful the Blacks and the Lestranges really are."
After a few more polite exchanges with Bella and Rodolphus Lestrange, Regulus slipped away at the first opening.
He could feel eyes on him from every direction. His performance at Hogwarts, combined with the Black name, already made him a prize worth courting at a gathering like this.
Now Voldemort's attention had been added to the list.
Some looks held genuine appreciation. Others were measuring and calculating. A few carried quiet hostility. He'd expected all of it.
"Regulus." Lucius's voice came from behind him.
"Talk privately?" Lucius angled his body and guided him toward the west-side terrace off the main hall.
Regulus nodded and followed. Narcissa appeared beside Lucius at some point, close enough to feel like she was there as a witness.
The wind on the terrace was cool, tugging at the edge of Narcissa's white robes. The gardens stretched out below in moonlit silence.
Lucius leaned against the railing, lazily turning his goblet between his fingers.
He glanced back toward the main hall first, then spoke in that unmistakable Malfoy drawl. "The champagne tonight is excellent. A vintage imported from France. Father had someone hunt it down."
Regulus stood opposite him and didn't respond, waiting.
Lucius didn't care about the silence. He went on. "But even the finest things depend on who you give them to. Some people aren't worthy. If they force themselves into places they don't belong, they only ruin what's good."
His eyes flicked over Regulus's face. "Don't you agree?"
"Things should be used properly," Regulus said evenly. He didn't follow Lucius's bait, but he also didn't slap away the hand being offered.
"That's exactly it." Lucius gave a soft laugh, still unhurried.
"Times are unsettled. There are always people desperate for quick results, the type who want to lay out their entire hand just to make sure everyone knows which side they're on."
The meaning was obvious. A jab at families like the Lestranges who had thrown themselves in completely, and a quiet probe at where the Blacks truly stood.
"You understand the situation. That great man's power is growing. Plenty inside the Ministry of Magic have already made their position clear. We pure-blood families have to choose."
"The Malfoys have already chosen," Regulus replied.
He lifted his gaze and continued, calm and precise. "Everyone picks their own path. Some people like shortcuts. Others prefer to move carefully."
"Yes, but choices have depth." Lucius studied him.
Something shifted in Regulus's chest.
Was this the Malfoy stance, then?
It sounded close to Orion's thinking, but words were cheap. This world didn't run on speeches. Still, it was as far as Lucius could safely go. Even he had to survive at Voldemort's side.
Regulus looked back toward the main hall. Orion and Abraxas were speaking, and several Heads of House had gathered around them.
"My family's position is being stated," Regulus said. "Supporting that great man. Protecting pure-blood honor."
"Surface words are easy," Lucius said, shaking his head.
Regulus looked from Lucius to Narcissa. Narcissa was watching him, calm and intent.
He understood. Lucius didn't pull an eleven-year-old first-year aside to speak like this without a reason, and that reason had Narcissa's fingerprints all over it.
Which was fine. This was exactly what Regulus wanted.
Regulus suddenly smiled and held out his hand.
Lucius blinked, then smiled too, this time with something real behind it. He stepped forward and gripped Regulus's hand firmly, giving it a deliberate shake.
"You're more mature than I expected," Lucius said, a thread of admiration in his eyes. "At eleven, having this kind of judgment is rare."
"You flatter me," Regulus replied, still smiling.
But his mind had already drifted.
He looked at Lucius, bright and confident, and couldn't help seeing another scene layered over this one, more than twenty years away.
Malfoy Manor turned into Voldemort's stronghold. Blood splashed on stone walls. Death Eaters' bodies piled in the hall. Killing done casually, like breathing.
Lucius stripped of his wand, kneeling in the dirt before Voldemort, clinging to life for the sake of his family.
Everything he had now would not stay his.
The world changed fast. The difference between the top of power and the bottom of the abyss was sometimes only one step.
Malfoy was a house worth winning over, but not yet.
Abraxas was still alive, and the Malfoy voice still belonged to him. When Abraxas died, it would mark a turning point.
Not just a transfer of power inside the family, but possibly the moment Voldemort decided to cut away anything he couldn't fully control.
Only when Lucius truly held House Malfoy, only when he started to feel Voldemort's grip tighten, would deep cooperation with House Black become possible.
"What are you thinking about?" Lucius had noticed the way Regulus's gaze slipped.
Regulus came back to himself and looked to Narcissa. "I was thinking about a wedding gift for my cousin."
At that, Narcissa's smile softened
"You're thoughtful," she said. Her fingers lightly touched the corner of her lips, the hint of shy delight there without breaking her poised composure. "But the date isn't that urgent yet. Lucius and I haven't set it so soon."
Lucius glanced at her, a gentler smile flashing across his eyes before it vanished.
Then his gaze moved between Narcissa and Regulus, and he nodded once at Regulus. "House Black coming tonight honors us."
Regulus didn't look at him. He kept his attention on Narcissa, his voice gentler than before. "Of course. You and I have always been close."
Lucius's fingers paused against the glass.
A moment later, he let out a quiet laugh.
Narcissa understood too, and her smile deepened. "Once the invitations are decided, I'll bring yours to the old house myself."
---
When Regulus returned to the main hall, he'd somehow become the center of it.
Cantankulous Nott approached with his son, walking at an unhurried pace. Nott wore a deep black robe, the collar embroidered with fine silver-gray family markings. His eyes were sharp, and authority seemed to cling to him without effort.
He was rumored to be the author of The Pure-Blood Directory, and his obsession with blood purity ran all the way down to the bone.
Young Nott held a quiet hostility toward Regulus, but he didn't dare show it openly.
Regulus remembered him. During that Quidditch conflict between houses, this was the one who'd questioned his place.
Among all these faces, some came with genuine interest. Some came to flatter for family advantage. Some carried hidden malice.
Regulus could feel it clearly when one wizard smiled warmly and shook his hand with gentle strength.
The man's magic, however, was laced with venomous intent, almost spilling out of him like poison he couldn't keep capped.
A man like that was either stupid, or empty-headed.
A truly dangerous wizard could bury every thought and emotion, greet you with a perfect smile, then stab you in the back with a blade you never saw coming.
Someone who couldn't even hide his hostility would never become a real threat. Regulus only needed to keep an eye on him, nothing more.
Then a sharper burst of malice reached him, obvious and loud, but still harmless.
Regulus followed the sensation and found Alger Travers standing not far away, champagne glass clenched in his hand, face dark with fury as he stared.
Regulus met his eyes calmly, and let the slightest hint of challenge show through.
The people speaking near Regulus noticed the shift and followed his gaze. They understood at once. The conflict between Travers and Regulus had become common knowledge in pure-blood circles.
Head of House Nott gave a light cough, his tone clearly slanted. "Why is the Travers boy just standing there?"
A younger Yaxley snorted. "Probably still hasn't recovered from what happened at Hogwarts."
Every gaze snapped toward Alger Travers, full of amusement and mockery.
Alger's face went red in an instant. The hand holding his champagne trembled. He looked ready to explode, but his father caught him and held him back.
Head of House Travers's expression was ugly. He forced a stiff nod in Regulus's direction, then dragged Alger away.
Watching Alger's retreating, humiliated back, Regulus found it hard not to be amused.
---
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