Author's Note: This was written by rhead-a-holic and DolbyDigital for the first round of the Capture the Flag competition.
Regulus knelt at the Dark Lord's feet, head bowed and left arm outstretched.
He'd been waiting for this moment for years.
He'd just needed one final push in the right direction.
"The Dark Lord, now there's a man with the right idea. His methods can be a little... messy, though," Regulus kept his eyes on the ornate tapestry featuring Merlin, his tone musing.
"Messy!?"
"I heard he's starting to kill purebloods," he glanced briefly towards Barty, remaining composed despite the other's sudden outburst.
"Blood traitors!" Barty hissed through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring and a fire in his eyes that Regulus hadn't seen the likes of before. It was... strangely invigorating.
"Yes, I suppose. But still... It's wasting good stock," Regulus turned away as he spoke, feigning disinterest.
"Good stock? Pinkstone, Burbage, Weasley! Good stock, are they?" Barty was positively incensed now, pushing himself so far forward in his seat that he was halfway to standing. Not that Regulus was looking.
"No, of course not. But their blood's still pure. People's beliefs can be changed."
"Are your beliefs so easily swayed, Regulus?" Barty practically purred, leaning closer with each word he spoke, smirk gracing his features. Perhaps Regulus had not been as subtle as he'd hoped.
"No! I-" He took a deep breath to calm himself. He hadn't intended on getting so riled up, but Barty seemed to have that effect on people – on him in particular. "They are weak. How else could they have been fooled into thinking that Mudbloods possessed the abilities to achieve such greatness as those with pure blood can obtain?"
"Weak? Like your brother, you mean? Him and his blood traitor friends and the muggle girl. They're not like us, Reg. We can join the Dark Lord-"
"Listen to you! You're already talking as if you're one of them!"
"Well, I could be! We could be!"
"Maybe in a few years, when we've left-"
"No! We can join now! There's a meeting. It's in a couple weeks. Nott said-"
"Nott!?"
"Yes, he was in your cousin's year."
"I remember him. I just wasn't aware you were talking to him," something that felt a lot like jealousy coated his words.
"Yes, we talk. I was talking to him and he said we could go to the next meeting – it's on a Hogsmeade weekend. No one would notice – and if the Dark Lord permits it, we could join."
"If the Dark Lord permits it? We're sixteen, for Merlin's sake! What use could we possible be?"
Surprisingly, it was Barty who remained calm in the face of Regulus' anger. He was in his element now.
"Well, you're a Black aren't you? You have plenty to offer. Nott said if you were there, it'd be guaranteed."
"So they want me? What's stopping me from going without you?"
"You wouldn't. You're trying to find a way out of this. You're scared. You wouldn't go alone."
"I'm not! I know about everything he's ever done, I've got-"
"Yes, okay. You've read about him. Cut up little pieces of newspaper and gone scrapbooking. But have you ever actually done anything to further his cause? Anything practical?"
"Oh, like you have!"
"Of course I have. What do you think I've been doing with Nott and the others?"
"... there are others?" that was definitely jealousy now.
"Of course! You thought we were just going to sit around discussing our ideals? We need to actually get out there and do something!"
"Of course I want to do something about it! I just-"
"No! No hesitating! The time is now, and if we don't act then everything we're fighting for will be gone!"
"You think I don't know that!? I'm not hesitating!"
"You sure?"
Regulus took a moment to control his breathing, trying to calm the rage boiling inside of him.
"Where's the meeting?"
Barty's smirk was triumphant and terrifying and so very beautiful.
The pain spread through his body like fire, burning and freezing his blood. He could taste blood on his lips, his teeth tearing through flesh in an attempt to stifle his screams.
The pain stopped as abruptly as it began, leaving him a gasping heap on the floor, sweating and shaking .
He rose slowly, head held high, blood shot eyes taking in the room and its faceless occupants.
He pulled his hood over his head, covering his face with his mask, and stepped into the ring of people.
He had never felt more powerful.
...oOo…
"You will obey me."
The menacingly whispered words echoed through Regulus' heart, racing through his mind with every brush of Fabian's hand on his hair. The war raged around them – they stood on different sides of the battlefield: Regulus through foolish mistake and Fabian through duty – but within this room where the fire burned bright and warm, it was just Fabian and Regulus. There was no war, no danger, and nothing that could keep them apart.
Regulus dreaded the day he would have to stand across from Fabian, expected to kill him if the opportunity arose, and knowing that every person standing beside him had every intention of killing Fabian on sight. The Dark Lord would surely know where his true loyalties lay on that day, and it was no longer with the Dark Lord.
It couldn't possibly be with the warmth that filled Regulus' chest every single time he caught sight of Fabian. It was nothing like the infatuation he had felt before, the infatuation that made him believe that joining the Dark Lord would get him closer to Barty. The whirlwind of emotions had left him drained with the only thing to rely on being his support of the Dark Lord, something that his parents openly encouraged.
Regulus knew now that Barty hadn't cared, only wanting to secure the Black family to the Dark Lord for his own benefit without lingering for longer than necessary. Regulus had only realised what a fool he had been after the ink had settled into the skin of his left forearm.
As Regulus had walked up the staircase on the eve of the day Barty had left him, a fury filled him. The wand was aimed at Barty, at his parents, and his stupid, foolish self. His parents had never seen beyond the fact that the Dark Lord would grant them power once the war was won. Their goal, as was many of the other purebloods, was the restoration of Dark Magic. Regulus' personal interests and sacrifices didn't matter as much as the Black name, he knew that now. Regulus could finally see his parents as Sirius had, and he didn't like it.
"What are you thinking about, Reg?" Fabian's mischievous voice reached Regulus' ears, and he sighed happily.
"This. Us. Everything. I wish I could just run away from all of this with you."
Fabian gave Regulus a warm smile that held only a tint of sorrow, but said nothing.
...oOo...
For all the power Regulus had felt when he had first joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, nothing had made him feel as powerless. Regulus had found out about the mission too late, long after the party of Death Eaters had left for the Prewett home. There had been no time to send Fabian and Gideon any warning, as he had been called away for some other insignificant thing only minutes after finding out.
The dread grew with every passing second, even though Regulus knew the two were excellent duellists. The possibility of the Death Eaters actually succeeding brought bile to his mouth.
Barty may have fooled him into joining, but Regulus had fooled himself into believing that staying with the Death Eaters would help him protect Fabian. It had made him more powerless than he had ever been in his life, as attacking any Death Eater without a 'just' reason meant that Regulus would be executed immediately.
He was just a person amongst thousands. Regulus was a potential heir of the Black family, but Sirius was still the heir unless Sirius managed to get himself killed. Knowing Sirius, that was always a possibility. Regulus' parents had always believed Sirius would die first, so never bothered to officially disown him.
Regulus had thought so to, or rather, he had been the one to convince his parents of it, and he had believed it.
Until the hunting party had returned with their clothes covered in blood, and the smell of fire hanging around them.
"They're dead," Antonin crowed joyfully. "The blood traitor Prewetts are dead."
Regulus felt blank. He had never really considered the fact that Fabian could die; those had been idle thoughts that were never taken seriously.
In that moment, Regulus realised that the Dark Lord had to fall. He didn't know how, or when, only that he would help shove the Dark Lord back into which ever hell he had risen from.
For now, though, he had to keep his silence: the opportunity would come to him.
Your life's all shattered to smithereens: back to our silences and silent looks.
Prompts:
[Object] Staircase
[Emotion] Disgust
[Emotion] Anticipation
[Dialogue] "You will obey me"
[Poem] Tony Harrison - Book Ends
