A/N: Written for the Random and Crazy Challenge.

Prompt: House Elf

Honor and Privilege

Kreacher was about to have all of his deepest wishes come true. The mistress had finally called for him after decades of service and dedication. He quickly finished his work and proudly straightened up his towel. There were three house elves currently serving the Ancient and most Noble House of Black but none for as long as he.

He had been born there, in the very nest he called his own. Having followed generations of his house elf ancestors, serving the illustrious house was a birth right. He was better than the others. They had less than pure lines. He sniffed in disdain.

With a crack, Kreacher apparated to his mistress.

"How can Kreacher serve Mistress?" He asked with a low bow.

"It is getting to be that time in your life where you find an appropriate mate and provide the house with your heir."

"Yes, Mistress. I have already found a suitable match; I was only waiting on your orders."

"You have pleased me greatly, Kreacher. I have decided to bestow on you a gift."

"Mistress?"

"I have already hung your plaque in the hall of heads. It is now your job to polish it every day. If you provide the house with your heir, you will be beheaded in old age and mounted to the plaque so that your descendants will honor you."

"Mistress is too kind!" He bowed deeply tears threatening to spill over as he popped back into the kitchen. With his shoulders back and his chin held high, he imperiously looked around at the others finishing up their work. He glared at them in triumph. Mistress awards only the best house elves with the mounting.

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"Kreacher."

"Yes, young Master?" Kreacher bowed at the youngest son of his Mistress. The future Lord Black who was sitting on a chair in the library. His robe sleeves rolled up to show the newly gifted tattoo given by his Master. It was red and angry as the black snake slithered in and out of the skull. It was tender and Regulus had been avoiding anything to touch it since he returned with it last night.

"You will go with the Dark Lord and do whatever he tells you, then come back."

"Yes, young Master."

Master Regulus was looking at his new mark with distaste. Being a Death Eater wasn't what he thought it would be. It was not the first thing he regretted, it was just the latest in a long string of lamentations. Kreacher watched him for a moment in helpless concern. His master was suffering. Kreacher apparated back to the kitchen, where he got his rag and polish and went to polish the plaques in the hall of heads before he was called to attend the Dark Lord.

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It was dark as Kreacher followed the sweeping black robes of the Dark Lord. They had popped to the top of a cliff, the sea roiling and frothing angrily over the sharp rocks below. He continued to follow the dark wizard over the side of the cliff, pausing only long enough to still his trembling extremities.

The dark wizard said nothing to him, barely acknowledging the tiny elf behind him. He started shaking again as he realized he would have to drop in the water and swim to the ledge that the dark wizard was already pulling himself onto.

"Come, Elf." The cold voice of the dark wizard made Kreacher cower in fear for a moment. Before the threat of magic was used to force him, he jumped into the water. He went under several times as his tiny body was battered by the merciless waves. Finally, he made it, dragging himself up the rock ledge, relieved he had so far avoided his death.

The Dark Lord was dry and impatiently waiting next to a solid wall that doubled as a hidden door. He trembled as he saw the payment that would need to be made so that they could pass. He knew that the one to sacrifice blood would not be the dark wizard in front of him.

He lifted his arm to the wizard as he sliced his arm farther and deeper than necessary and pushed the elf to the doorway. The dark Lord smeared Kreacher's blood on the rock and was shoved roughly out of the way.

"Follow closely." The wizard commanded.

"Yes, Sir." He said. Fear running through his body as more and more blood dripped from the wound. He had used some elf magic to knit the skin back together. It worked for a mere few seconds before it became necrotic, blood flowing faster than before. It was a cursed blade. The dark wizard had no intention of letting him leave at all, let alone alive.

Kreacher watched as the dark wizard pulled a boat out of the depths of green lake. He climbed in after the wizard and sat stock still as he watched the occupants of the lake stare blindly up at them. They went against everything natural and good in the world. He shut his eyes, forcing his arms to stay where they were, desperately clutching the wound. The boat gently bumped into the rocky outcropping of the island. The wizard stood immediately and strode to the stone pedestal in the center.

The dark wizard conjured a rough wooden cup in his gloved hand and dipped it into the green liquid in the bottom of the basin.

"Drink." The wizard said sneering at the fearful elf.

Kreacher lifted his uninjured arm, accepting the cup into his hands and brought the potion to his lips. He would make the Mistress proud. He drank deeply from the cup, draining it obediently, leaving slivers of wood embedded into his lips and hands from the rough cup.

The Dark Lord took the cup and refilled it, smoothly handing it to Kreacher. The potion was starting to roll in his stomach, burning him from the inside out. He took and drained the cup a second time, closing his eyes as he concentrated on his heaving stomach and keeping it down.

He was unprepared for the first wave of memories, the darkest of his days. He watched unknowingly as his mother was called to be beheaded. It was the day that he accepted his post. He had been so proud. He was smart, obedient, and faithful. He was young for an elf but pushed himself to be the best. His mother had cautioned him to give himself time. Time to grow, time to find his niche, time with her. He didn't understand until that day. She was only to live until the day he took his post. He accepted his post three years early.

He started to sob as an unforgiving hand thrust another cupful past his lips. He thrashed and cried out. He watched over and over as he told his mother that he had been given a post three years earlier than any other elf. His chest puffed out. He had not comprehended why his mother had withered in front of his eyes. She shed one tear before she was called before the mistress. Even then he hadn't realized. The next time he saw her, he was polishing her head that was mounted on her plaque. He had stolen the last three years of his mother's life.

Another cup brimming with liquid was shoved to his lips. He greedily drank it while trying to shove it away. He deserved his pain. He was a bad son. He relived that day hundreds of times before the cup stopped coming.

He needed water. It burned through his small body forcing him to seek it at the water's edge despite knowing what lied in wait. He knew he was alone, the dark wizard had left him, stepping into the boat as Kreacher clawed his way to the edge of the island. Kreacher heard the rock door close behind the wizard as he took his first drink of cold water. Icy hands wrapped around him, pulling him into the water to join their ranks among the army of the dead. Master Regulus ordered him to come back. He had never failed in completing an order from his family and he wouldn't start now. With a desperation born of guilt and fear, the sopping wet elf apparated into the bedroom of his youngest master, collapsing onto the ground unconscious.

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"Take me to the place he took you to." Master Regulus asked him once he was awake.

To be honest, Kreacher was surprised that he was even alive. He shook his head violently. He could not take the young master there!

"I order you to take me to the place the Dark Lord took you to."

"Yes, Young Master." He was unable to disobey a direct order and capitulated reluctantly. His vocal cords were raspy from screaming, causing extreme damage and ghost pain. He flinched as he breathed. Air whistling in his throat with each breath.

Kreacher waited while his master cloaked himself before taking the hand of the determined teenager and with a crack he was once again standing on the outcropping of rock. It was dark but the stars were twinkling this time. The ocean was calm and rocking, lazily breaking waves over the rocks below.

"We must climb down and then swim to the ledge at the opening of a cave, Master Regulus."

Regulus nodded and went first, fearless, as always. Kreacher followed along behind, dropping into the ocean seconds before his master. Regulus gripped the elf's arms and pulled him onto his strong back. Wrapping Kreacher's arms around his neck before pulling himself through the water to the opening with powerful strokes.

Regulus pulled out his wand and dried them both before he turned to Kreacher.

"What now?" he asked looking around the small antechamber.

"Kreacher must give the door what it demands."

"And that is?"

"Kreacher's Blood."

Regulus pulled out a silver knife and nicked his own finger while frowning at the still wrapped arm of the house elf. It had been the first thing he tried to heal when Kreacher appeared in his bedroom that day. There was no magic that would heal it or if there was he didn't know what it was. It would have to heal on its own.

The door vanished leaving a silver outline of an arch to walk through. Regulus walked in the cavernous room looking wide eyed at the glowing center.

"How do we get there?" Regulus asked the trembling elf. Kreacher was staring at the same thing as Regulus but for completely different reasons. He would have to see his mother and his disgrace all over again.

Kreacher pointed as a spot that was empty, walking around the young wizard and coaxing the chain to bring the boat up to the surface despite his fear. They climbed into the boat as it sailed to the center of the lake. Regulus turned green and gasped when he saw a child about thirteen float face up next to them. Her waist length blond hair floated around her, her eyes grey and blank. Her tattered lilac dress from the twenties swirling around her legs before she disappeared back into the depths of the water.

When they bumped into the rocky outcropping of the island, Regulus heaved in great lungsful of air. He was so young to have to see such atrocities.

"Now what?"

"The entire potion must be drunk. There is something at the bottom of the basin."

"Kreacher I order you to destroy whatever is at the bottom. Do not tell anyone what this is or where you found it!"

"I will drink and master will destroy."

"No. I will drink. I order you to make me drink all of it."

"Master." Kreacher sobbed. His greatest and best ally, Master Regulus.

Regulus summoned a silver goblet with the Black family crest and dipped it into the potion. He lifted the cup in mocking salute before draining the first cup, gasping as if he had downed his first fire whiskey.

"Merlin." He groaned clutching his stomach and filling the cup once more. He drank the potion and filled it without assistance while Kreacher cried at his feet three more times before he started moaning and crying out for Sirius. No longer could his master fill the cup. Kreacher pried the goblet from his master's fingers and refilled it, forcing it between the young wizard's lips.

"No, No! Sirius, I'm sorry! Oh Merlin! I should have helped you!" Regulus groaned gurgling as Kreacher forced another cupful into his mouth.

"Master must swallow." Kreacher cried brokenly.

Finally, Kreacher gasped in relief as he filled the final cup and forced it in his master's mouth. Kreacher scooped the locket out and into Regulus' hand.

"No!" Regulus croaked putting the locket around Kreacher's neck. "Water!"

Kreacher knew what was coming and tried to pull his master back to the boat. Regulus threw himself face first to the lake, taking great gulps of water as the dead fingers wound around him. They pulled him in as Kreacher tried to fight them off. Regulus being unable to fight. They were too many for one elf to fight. He sobbed in frustration as they were losing and losing meant his master's death.

"Master…" His lips quivered. He fought off the fingers that were inching toward him. He once again tried to get a hold of his master before Regulus was pulled under. Never to emerge again. Kreacher had his orders. He had to destroy the necklace and with a pop he was once again in the great master Regulus' room. This time alone, no one to console him in his loss. Master Regulus was a great wizard.

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Kreacher sobbed for days and grieved far longer than that. The day he came back without the young master, he took down his plaque in the hall of heads and hid it in his nest. He no longer deserved the distinction given by his mistress. Because of him, the young master was dead. He failed his house. He had one last job to do before he could tell his mistress of his disgrace. The locket.

He spent weeks trying everything that he ever learned as a house elf but nothing could destroy the locket. He punished himself and tried again and again.

When his mistress died just three years later, he mourned for the near extinction of the line. His mistress left him and the whole Black estate to her eldest son who unexpectedly came back to their side. Mistress welcomed him back like the prodigal, but not in person of course. Master Sirius was in Azkaban, in the end he showed his loyalty to his family. His mistress was so happy even if she was just a portrait. It didn't matter to Kreacher though, every day that the locket remained was another day he failed his Master.