Just a oneshot about Regulus. He and some fellow Death Eaters are sent to kill, and Regulus finds himself hesitating…
Disclaimer: I wish I owned HP. I really do.
Black Is A Many Shaded Colour.
Rain thundered down from the pitch dark skies, pounding the ground so hard vision was restricted to a meagre few feet. A crescent moon desperately tried to peer round the edges of the ragged clouds, but to no avail. An owl hooted dolefully from a nearby tree, its echo lost in the thunder of the angry rain, and in the distance, four hooded and cloaked figures made their way hurriedly down the long, narrow road.
As the four figures drew nearer, the glint of eerie, skull like masks became clearer through the steam of the rain. They moved swiftly round a garden gate, blending in with the darkness, and one by one, positioned themselves as shadows around the house.
Cautiously, the hooded figure at the front door pointed a thin piece of wood at the lock, and the door creaked open. The figure signalled to another, who moved around the back of the house, another of their group following. The last cloaked stranger, confirming that the coast was clear in the front garden, joined the shadow that had just opened the door, and together, they crept silently into the house.
"Right, Black," whispered one of the figures in a drawling tone, the frightening mask turning to face its companion. "You go upstairs, and I'll take downstairs. Bellatrix and Rabastan are around the back, should we encounter any difficulties. Not that that is likely," he added with a hint of a sneer, his eyes glinting from behind their mask.
Regulus nodded, and wordlessly, he swept up the stairs. The landing was dark, and he just made out four doors. One was open slightly, revealing a bathroom. Another displayed a large, empty double bed. The third had a shiny brass plaque on the door that said, "Gordon", and the one farthest away proclaimed a heart shaped, pink plaque that Regulus noted said, "Rosie".
Regulus swallowed a lump that had started to rise in his throat. He had, again, not been told there were children.
A scream from downstairs made him jump, and the familiar feeling that every bone in his body was aching to lie down and sleep for a long time crept over him. Another ear splitting shriek sounded, and Regulus heard a crash. He shook his head angrily and forced himself to wrench open the door with the shiny brass plaque, hands shaking.
The room was dark, but Regulus heard a gasp, squinting his eyes to make out a shape huddled in a bed.
"Lumos," he muttered. The tip of his wand burst to light, casting an eerie glow around the room. Before Regulus had time to take in his surroundings, a terrified scream cut across the dusky shadows, and Regulus started, spying a young boy with sandy hair, no more that about nine, cowering in his bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. He was gazing at Regulus, looking utterly petrified. It was only then that Regulus realised he was still wearing his mask. Hurriedly, he took it off to reveal dark hair and grey eyes, but the boy screamed again at the sudden movement. There was a shout from downstairs, and Regulus, grimacing, heard a frantic scuffle and another bang. He pointed his wand at the boy, who gasped, shaking violently.
Regulus's hand shook too, and his grip loosened. Tiny droplets of sweat were forming on his brow, and he swallowed hard against the bile that was rising swiftly in his throat. A movement behind him caught his attention, and he spun swiftly around.
A tiny girl, no more than four, was standing in the doorway, her small frame a shadow compared to the light of the room. Her sandy blonde hair, that same colour as the boy's, was in pigtails, and she clutched a teddy bear tightly in one hand, her small mouth rounded in confusion and fear.
Regulus lowered his wand instantly and clutched his stomach, willing himself not to vomit. Get a grip, he thought angrily. You know what happens when you don't do what He says, can you go through that again? Can you? Just do it, for Merlin's sake, do it now!
But before he had the chance to do anything, the boy, seizing Regulus's lapse in concentration as his chance, had leapt out of his bed at the speed of light and bolted towards the door.
"Stupefy!" cried Regulus swiftly, spinning around and aiming his wand for the small, moving target. The boy dodged; Regulus's spell hit the tiny girl. The boy screamed again, his light blue eyes filled with terror, and he ran down the stairs as fast as his short legs would carry him, screaming for his mother. Regulus closed his eyes, listening. There was a shout, a high pitched scream, a yell, and a flash of green light so bright that Regulus could see the faint edges of it creeping up the stairs, like a poisonous gas.
Ignoring the heart wrenching wails from the floor below, Regulus numbly crossed the room to the small child that he had just stunned.
Her bright blue eyes could still move, and she looked up at him with a mixture of emotion, clearly terrified because he was a stranger, and utter confusion as to why she found herself unable to move. Her eyes were crying silently as Regulus scooped her up, wondering helplessly what to do. He couldn't leave her here; Lucius knew there were two Bones kids, and if he lied and said he'd killed the girl and left her up here, Bellatrix would know, she always knew when he lied.
Regulus stared hopelessly at the tiny child in his arms. "You're a mudblood, you know," he stated dully. Her wide eyes flickered as he spoke, still filled with terror. "Do you know what that is?"
The tiny bundle continued to stare. He wondered why she didn't break the gaze or close her eyes. He exhaled slowly, feeling very old and still aware of the fact that he was shaking.
"No. I don't suppose you do. I didn't when I was three either, and my father held me and yelled at me for asking to play with the muggle child across the road."
The small, blue eyes were fixating; they did not look away, and Regulus found, unnervingly, that he could not either. He stared at them, so filled with fear and confusion, for a long time, until he was aware of the fact that the screams of excruciating pain had subsided from the floor below. Had he seen another flash of green? He wasn't sure. All he saw was blue.
A voice drawled lazily up the stairs. "Black! Come on, we're done here."
Regulus walked slowly out onto the landing, which was still dark. The small bundle in his arms shivered; the spell must be wearing off. He was surprised it hadn't killed her, actually.
One foot on the top step, another on the one below. He could see shapes moving around in the living room now; a small one was lying still on the floor. The first foot on the third step, the other hovering over the fourth. Regulus faltered, the girl shivering consistently now. Her eyes were still fixed on him.
"Black!" came a shout from the kitchen. "Get a move on!"
Regulus paused for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, was only about two seconds, and then he dashed back into the room and hid the little girl in the closet. She stared at him, still terrified and confused, and her eyes widened in horror as she realised that he was going to leave her in a dark wardrobe. Shaking violently, Regulus sat her up, and thought vaguely about getting her a blanket or something to make her comfortable, but he didn't know what to do, and another irritated shout from downstairs panicked him. He straightened up quickly, standing back and reaching for the closet door. The small blue eyes gleamed at him from the shadows until they were swallowed by the darkness as he shut the door with a snap.
Still fighting the urge to vomit violently, Regulus hurried back down the stairs, shoving his mask on with shaking hands so the other three would not notice his sweat covered ashen face.
He entered the kitchen, registering briefly that it looked as though a bomb had hit it. Two bodies lay at unnatural angles across the floor, and Lucius Malfoy stepped calmly over one, trodding uncaringly on a hand.
"Where were you?" he drawled irritably.
"Just checking there was nothing else upstairs," retorted Regulus sourly. Bellatrix was lounging by the back door, her mask in her hand. She called to the man in the back garden, he shouted something back. He pointed his wand into the sky and cried, "Morsmordre!"
Regulus looked away sourly as a large, shadowy green skull erupted from the man's wand and shot into the sky, closely followed by a snake, which twisted its way out of the mouth. It hung eerily above the house, illuminating the back garden and the cold features of the man who had conjured it.
"There were two children," stated Lucius, eyeing Regulus intently, although he was concealed behind his mask. "Did you dispose of the other one?"
Regulus nodded curtly. The corners of Lucius's mouth curled into a version of a smile, and as Rabastan came back into the kitchen, Lucius turned to lead them away. Regulus hurried into the hall after him, feeling both relieved, and disgusted with himself for feeling relieved. It was an internal battle that could wait til morning, he decided.
"Wait."
And just like that, with that one word, Regulus's heart sank. He, Lucius, and Rabastan all turned. Bellatrix had not moved from her position, and was eyeing Regulus with a mixture of smugness, distrust, and disappointment.
"The girl is still alive."
Regulus closed his eyes and exhaled softly; he was in for it now. Lucius turned to face him. "Well, well, well," he said softly, eyes glinting.
"She's in the wardrobe," said Bellatrix quietly, nodding at Rabastan, who disappeared up the stairs.
There was a horrible, crushing silence, as Lucius and Bellatrix fixed their gaze resolutely on Regulus, who said nothing. They could hear Rabastan stomping around upstairs. Regulus acutely picked out every noise; the wardrobe door opening, the gasp of the small girl, the shout of the curse, and the soft thump as her body hit he floor. He closed his eyes, but he could still see the faint glow of green.
He didn't know why he had done it, why he had tried to hide her. But once he had done it there had been no going back, and even as he'd descended the stairs he started to wonder in panic if he had made a mistake in not killing her. The consequences of saving her life were going to implicate hugely on his, and even as he silently lamented the senseless loss of an innocent young child, he could feel this part of his conscience ebb away, being taken over by a growth of disgust deep in the pit of his churning stomach, that he had not been able to just kill her. He was surely in for it now. What did she matter, really? He couldn't even remember her name.
Reviews are always welcome :)