Notes: For the Hunger Games Fanfic Style III competition at the HPFC forums. Prompts used: emotion, character, dialogue, setting, and weapon.
Ablaze
Normally, the Death Eaters operated without much fanfare. People were found dead in their homes. They never showed up to work. They were reported missing, their whereabouts unknown. It was rare for them to resort to arson, but they'd gotten a tip - that dingy old Muggle bar was one of the safe houses of the Order of the Phoenix.
Lord Voldemort wanted it burned to the ground.
Lord Voldemort had also wanted to find the magical family hiding in the premises and attempt to save them, to prevent needless death of the worthy. Regulus was trying to do just that when the local was set on fire. And now he was making a run for it. It was hard to breathe, hard to move with all the smoke and the scorching heat. His eyes ached - it even hurt to blink. He could only see red as he rushed toward the nearest window and broke it with a wave of his wand, launching himself toward his makeshift exit with the desperation of trapped prey.
As soon as he was out, he could finally breathe. But he kept running toward the agreed upon meeting place. He ran blindly, his eyes still adjusting to the dark of the night. When he arrived at the deserted alleyway, he took off his mask and lowered his hood to gulp down big breaths, staring at the two figures waiting for him. Everyone else was gone - it was only Lestrange and Barty.
"Ah," Lestrange said. Regulus didn't know if it was Rodolphus or Rabastan, and frankly, he didn't care. His anger was flaring up, painting his skin red. "I was worried we'd lost you."
"You were the one who started the fire."
Lestrange shrugged.
"You took too long."
"We were under strict orders of showing mercy to the Prewetts and to leave no man behind. I was doing my part."
"Prewett called for backup. Not only the Muggle police, but the Order as well. They took the Lord's mercy and spat it back on our faces. They had to go." Lestrange's eyes narrowed. "I'm no happier to spill magical blood than you are, but they asked for it. I'm not to blame for your weaknesses."
The viciousness in his voice shot down any comeback.
"Go home." Lestrange said before disapparating, probably on his way to report back to the Dark Lord.
Now Regulus dropped to his knees, chest tightening, anger giving way to something more oppressive. Of course he couldn't explain this to Lestrange, or anyone else. He'd known Sophie Prewett. They'd been Herbology partners once or twice. She was a meek, harmless girl who had no issue with getting on her knees and begging - and they'd killed her. They'd killed her entire family.
He' could only take short breaths, and he was sure he was going to throw up. Guilt had sent its roots crawling through his every limb making them heavy, forcing him to curl up and clench his eyes shut to prevent those destructive feelings from setting him ablaze.
It's my fault. I could have prevented this. I could have found them sooner and then-
"Let's go."
A voice he knew too well reached him in the dark. It was Barty, of course. Barty, who was now pulling his arm with too much force for his wiry frame, forcing him to his feet in a single motion. He shook the dust off his clothes, and handed him his wand. Regulus could only stare. His boyfriend wasn't the kind to be consumed by self-blame, and that's why he did so well in these missions. But he wasn't the kind to belittle Regulus for having a hard time, either - and that's why Regulus loved him.
This is wrong.
He didn't realize he'd said that aloud until he noticed Barty's hawkish eyes fixed on his, digging deep, stripping him bare of all pretenses and making him feel like a helpless child.
"You signed up for this."
"I didn't sign up to end worthy lives and bring pointless destruction."
Barty sighed, then leaned in and kissed him softly. Regulus felt the weight of his actions dissipate with his boyfriend's soft lips, but just as he tried to lean into that sweet, sweet comfort, Barty pulled away and turned his back to him, eyes far too bright to be dry.
"Nothing is right or wrong anymore, Regulus." Barty's voice was filled to the brim with resignation, and maybe a touch of righteous rage. "It's the end of the world as we know it. Get used to it."
