Dorcas wasn't usually the maternal type. She'd insisted from a very young age that she'd never have children, that she wouldn't know what to do with one if she had it and that any child she bore was likely to closely resemble Lucifer himself. And yet, she knew something was wrong with Regulus. And that bothered her to her very core. She hated herself for it, but there it was, cold, plain and simple. She wasn't sleeping right as it was, and worrying about someone who she wasn't supposed to care too bloody much about, was driving her mad.
She knew the only way to deal with this worry was to floo over with some Pepper-up potion, see that he was in fact as alright as he'd been arguing, and then go home. It was a fairly simple plan, and should only take about a half hour, tops. Unless there was an argument...in which case, it would likely take days...
Dusting herself off in front of the fireplace, a familiar chill ran down her spine. She'd always hated this house. Mrs. Black wasn't her biggest fan ever and quite honestly, she always felt like the wretched house-elf was keeping tabs on her every move so it could report back to it's mistress about what a foul wench she was. Not to mention, she knew how much her father admired the Black family.
She'd barely taken a step when she looked down to see Kreacher standing there all but glaring at her, looking just as surly and nasty as ever.
"Master Regulus is upstairs." He said, eying the young woman suspiciously. She thought she heard him mumble something under his breath which had the words "filthy" and "traitorous" involved. She shot him a sharp look to let him know she'd heard it before stalking past him, shoes clicking loudly on the hard floor.
When she reached the creaky staircase, the heel of her shoe made a loud thud on the hollow stair, causing the curtains to her right to fly open with a loud screechy scream.
"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR OF A WENCH IN MY HOUSE! WHO LET THIS BEAST INTO MY HOME?! I WILL NOT HAVE HER CONTAMINATING THE MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! FILTH! TARTLET!" The portrait of Regulus's abhorred mother screamed at full volume, her voice high enough to shatter glass. Having not expected the outburst, Dorcas jumped, letting out a slight yelp.
Kreacher was at her side in an instant, glaring and adding to the screaming, ordering her upstairs so that he could properly soothe his mistress. Reluctantly and with narrow eyes, Dorcas obeyed, climbing the stairs to Regulus's room without a look over her shoulder.
She knew the way. It was the same as it had always been, and now in her fury, her steps were quickened, dark eyes blazing as she went.
"Even in her death that horrible woman manages to find me..." She was half-muttering, clenching her fists in a feeble attempt to calm down. Without knocking she threw the door to Regulus's room open and entered. "I see your darling mother is just as pleasant in death as she was in life." Dorcas seethed, not bothering to scan the room for Regulus before she began speaking. After a moment she realized he was lying in the bed looking as though the smallest movement would do him in for good and her anger at Walburga ebbed slightly.
"You look like death warmed over." She stated matter-of-factly.