Summary Before Sirius ran away, he gave his younger brother a last lecture. 4 years later Regulus sits musing in Sirius' deserted bedroom when the Dark Mark glints crimson – an ultimatum for declining Death Eaters. Torn in between autonomy and life what will he choose?
Coup de Grace
Woo Break of Dawn,
we were wandering aimless in the darkness
Woo Break of Dawn,
we were roaming wasted in the greyness
Ended up the right place? No one knows…
Break of Dawn - Do As Infinity
Everyday around us, there's something meaningful happening without us knowing it. Although one tends to dismiss it as some randomness of no significance, the memories remain in the back of their mind. And in times of neediness, the memories will be subconsciously recalled upon, pop up and flash before their eyes as realistically as though they are repeating themselves for a second time. It is bizarre, but it is the way it goes…
It was an extravagantly rainy night when he stared unseeingly into spaces, musing in his own world of darkness and desperation where the sun had long abandoned. The awful weather could not be any worse, and it seemed to be sophisticatedly designed to suit the anguish atmosphere in the deserted room located in the top floor inside the most Noble and Ancient House of Black – the room that used to belong to his elder brother.
He couldn't see anything other than the dazzling lightning bolts which were currently menacing to transpierce the sky; he couldn't hear anything beside the deafening thunders that resonated resoundingly inside his eardrums; he could only smell the rotten and acidic odour of the rain that was splashed on his young and handsome face through the open French door that led to the balcony. Given the ghostly pale complexion and his impenetrable countenance that was devoid of any human emotions, he could easily be mistaken as a living zombie.
However, an insightful glimpse into his heart would vindicate his aliveness. One could tell he felt something, but nobody could ever specify exactly what he was feeling, not even himself, for his sentiments were far too complex to be described, let alone distinguished.
He grasped in his spare hand his left forearm, the back on which the otherwise grey skully mark was burning bright red and contracting so viciously that it pained. It was always an ultimatum for declining Death Eaters, he knew it, but he paid no attention to it. His mind was on something else…and to be approximate, it was on the occupant of the very chamber.
He had never imagined he would one day end up in his brother's bedroom again. Still, he did, and yet more unbelievably, he was actually reminiscing the days they had spent together peacefully under the roof, although if truth be told, there's not much worth remembering.
In the countable scenes, he could still vaguely see the eclipses of Sirius and him playing with their cousins – Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa in the courtyard back then when they were all too innocent and naïve to let anything pessimize them. How much he missed the old days he couldn't possibly express, but when asked how they all ended up in such different paths he would say it's all the consequence of growth.
People grew, and then they discovered more of the evil in themselves, and in accordance with the different levels of acceptance or resistance towards the true colors of humankind, they chose independently among a wide variety of pathways which led to very unique ends. The five Blacks were a living illustration.
They had been the closest of cousins one could ever imagined, but eventually, one by one, the Black cousins left home and embarked on their journeys to Hogwarts. Bellatrix took the lead and Andromeda followed next, they alienated from each other on Meda's first summer back. Narcissa and Sirius started schooling at the same time, but they didn't talk civilly again after that. Before the time he was finally eligible to go to Hogwarts, they had already been separated into two conflicting blocs, with Bellatrix, Narcissa and him in the same one while Andromeda and Sirius the opposing.
Bellatrix and Narcissa had indoctrinated him with what they regarded as the fundamental truth; they told him the world was one divided into various classes, some superior and some inferior. They insisted that there's a master race destined to rule the world, and the aristocratic race alone could make decisions on behalf of the whole wizardkind. They claimed that purification of wizard blood was the ultimate goal and the inborn responsibility of all the purebloods. It didn't matter by what means the goal was achieved, because nobody cared if it was at the expense of mudbloods they added hastily.
He had trusted them. But now he found himself doubting for the first time what good it did to the world to exploit the muggle-borns of their instinctive opportunity to live. His mind drifted off to what Sirius had responded to those heated debates. He could still remember one strong argument that Sirius had always used – who were they to judge who were up to standard and good enough to live and who were not?
He used to think he had long forgotten all that he had shared with Sirius together, but somehow images of his brother giving him a last courteous lecture before his departure transpired before him as realistically as if it happened only yesterday.
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"Regulus," Sirius had said, his voice as cold as ice, striding into the balcony he shared with his younger brother with his usual dainty gesture. Startled, Regulus hid the photograph that he had been gazing at in his palm and looked up in shock; it was not everyday that Sirius acted friendly around him. But his astonishment was quickly masked by ostensible annoyance. "What?" he snarled.
"Ask Agnés out already. Or she will be taken soon." Sirius shot a meaningful glance towards his hand, the corners of his lips twitching slightly into a confidential smile.
Regulus narrowed his eyes, but he couldn't repress himself from turning crimson in embarrassment. He slid the picture into his pocket self-consciously. "I don't think it's of your business, Sirius," Regulus replied snappishly, "Now what is it that you really want?"
"Nothing," Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, shifting his weight from one side to another, and that's the point where Regulus realized that he was carrying under his arm a packed trunk. "Think I should let you know, I'm leaving. And I really don't reckon I will come back ever again. Tell your lovely parents I won't miss them."
Regulus stared at him blankly for a moment in distaste, desperate to find any trace of jokiness. When he failed to find any, he returned to his former posture, in an attempt to conceal the disappointment and frustration swelling deep inside. He swayed his hand dispassionately in farewell, "Bye then." Surreptitiously he wanted to ask Sirius to stay, but he couldn't bring himself to speak it aloud.
There was an unbearable muteness in the minute that ensued; Regulus couldn't see what Sirius was doing, since he had his back against him. He was just hoping against hope that his brother would be gone in no time and he would never have to lay his eyes on him again. However, it was as if a devil had been listening to his heart and decided to mess it up that the sound of Sirius' footsteps began coming consistently nearer. Regulus gave an inward groan.
"Regulus," Sirius discreetly whispered, laying one of his hands tentatively on his shoulder. Regulus glanced up in surprise as Sirius leaned on the fences besides him. "Take for yourself what you can, and don't be ruled by other; to belong to oneself – the whole saviour of life lies in that," he said out of the blue.
"What?" said Regulus a little too loudly, taken aback.
Sirius didn't avoid meeting his glance when Regulus continued to fix him in a stare so intense that might have been offensive to others. "Do you know what can give a man liberty?" he asked, but in a courteous way. It was obvious that he didn't want to give his younger brother the impression of being patronized.
"Nothing can guarantee a man liberty," Regulus exhaled, more to himself than anyone. But deep down, he was confident that his elder brother would be able to provide him with an irrefutable answer, and he was, to his surprise, looking forward to hearing it.
As expected, Sirius shook his head with furrowed brows. He caught Regulus' eyes squarely, gave a pause then enunciated, "The answer is will, a man's will, and it gives power, which is better than liberty. Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead."
-----------------
In their late years of brotherliness, there had hardly been any amicability, thanks to their parents' meddling and the house rivalries at Hogwarts. But in rare moments like that when Sirius was genial, he could feel a reciprocal sense of spiritual unity with him. And as he had stared at Sirius in a comfortable speechlessness on that day, their mutual affinity had become more pronounced than ever.
A surge of nostalgia descended upon him as he widened his eyes and refocused on everything under Sirius' possession. His sorrowful cadet blue eyes traveled from the picture of the galaxy that Sirius cherished like a treasure to the portrait Sirius had drawn of themselves at an early age. He could still concisely recollect the caring expression Sirius wore when he had said those inspiring words. He could still vaguely feel Sirius' lingering warmth when he had given him a last one-arm hug. Suddenly all the memories of Sirius came back and struck him more hardly than ever…
Since some time he lost track of, he had started to nurture a feeling of self-despise towards himself. He hated himself for falling into the traps of his parents' and was then contently being controlled. He detested himself for allowing himself to be spoiled into another typical Slytherin. He loathed himself for not understanding Sirius' words instantaneously, or else he would have pleaded Sirius to remain. He scorned himself for being ever so indecisive and faltering…otherwise…otherwise he wouldn't have the scandalous Dark Mark stamped on one of his arms now. He hated himself for not being brave enough to act in line with his innermost will.
The skull on his left forearm contracted more fiercely and the pain became yet more agonising as a violent burning sensation slowly crept into his bones. He clasped onto his arm in fright; it was his last chance – his last chance to decide where his loyalty lay. He had two options. He could choose to fulfill his destined obligations against the grain and he would thus live, or he could choose to act in favour of ethics and benevolence but Lord Voldemort would be sure to reserve a coffin for him.
He didn't know what to do; there's no Bellatrix and Narcissa around to tell him what to do. His mind was as blank and empty as it could be, with the only perceivable thought being on Sirius' last words. Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead…
Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead…
Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead…
Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead…
Sirius' voice was magnifying in the sea of Regulus' mind, his brain was like going to explode in any minutes and his heart was filling up like a balloon and pounding so rapidly that it hurt his ribcage. All at once, Regulus launched himself out from the armchair and ran for the door. He pulled it open and began his flights of staircases, skipping every two other steps. He violently snapped the main entrance door ajar and ran out from 12 Grimmauld Place into the bath of thunder and rain.
He was immediately drenched from head to toe, but he couldn't care less; he just wanted to escape from the claws of dark arts. The thunders were banging fiercely, but echoing in his mind was still none other than Sirius' words, they were repeatedly playing on their own accord, and they were starting to turn themselves into a belief, a theory, a law of nature. The rain clashed onto Regulus, his hair was soaked thoroughly and his clothes stuck to his body. However, for him it was a welcome sensation, the rain seemed to be washing away all his doubts and worries, leaving behind a transpicuous head.
He ran and ran and ran, ignoring the glinting Dark Mark on his left forearm; he didn't have a clear idea of how he managed to run in the repelling rain. All he knew was that he was running so fast as he had never run before, and that he hardly noticed where he was heading because Sirius' voice continued to haunt him.
He kept running; he didn't come to a halt until he came face to face with a grayish wooden door of a poor and muggle neighbourhood. He had been unconscious of where he was heading, but he wasn't surprised to end up there – because he knew he was for the first time in his life truly acting consistently with his deepest will.
He didn't spare a second thought before he raised his hand and knocked on it. When no one answered the door, he knocked on it again. He kept banging his fists on the door feverishly, desperate to be heard.
Gradually, the door was slowly opened, and a sleepy young beauty came into view.
"Agnés…will you run away with me?"
Prince Kazaf o'v'o) ♥ How was it?! How was it?!… Please tell me honestly what you think of it and how you interpret the ending!