A/N: This is a total departure from my norm. I love the idea so much. It's an AU, but if you haven't read DH there will be parts ruined for you, as this story will (to a certain extent) mirror Deathly Hallows except it's set when Regulus steals the Horcrux from the cave in 1979 and onward (AKA before Harry Potter was even born) and there will be hints of slash. Just hints, as this is not the premises of the story...

Declarations of Loyalty

Chapter 1: The Cave

Take the real locket, put the fake in, and go home. Leave him. Kreacher Apparated out of the cave with a crack, arriving back in his room, tears staining his face as the image of his master being dragged down by cold dead hands flashed in his mind.

"Kreacher?" a cold voice came from the door of his room.

He opened the door after wiping his face. "…Young Master Crouch," he said, bowing to the young man. "What is it you need from Kreacher?"

"Kreacher, where is Regulus?" he asked firmly, wiping his straw-colored hair out of his eyes.

"He…he has left."

"Kreacher, please tell me where Regulus is," Crouch said, kneeling down to the level of the elf.

"He's in the cave," Kreacher said, his voice cracking. "He will not return."

"Take me."

"What, Young Master Crouch?"

"Take me to the cave. Now Kreacher," he demanded more firmly. "Why did Regulus go to the cave?"

Without answering, Kreacher grabbed the young man's arm. "I will take you to the cave," he said, and with a crack, the two of them were standing in the middle of an eerie green lake. The water was not calm as it had been when Kreacher had arrived with his Master Regulus, it was thrashing about, dead bodies were piling.

"Inferi," Crouch muttered, kneeling towards the water. A hand shot up at him but with a slash of his wand, the dead hand was severed from the body it had once been attached. Crouch waved his wand again and a jet of fire shot from it, into the water, the cloud of Inferi split, and Crouch reached into the water, grabbing a wrist and pulling a body from the water. The only body that hadn't scattered at the light and the heat, the only body that was still alive.

Regulus Black's eyes opened slowly, he coughed up water and what looked like blood before looking up. "What just- Kreacher?" he asked, seeing the elf pelt himself at his master, Regulus looked up and saw his oldest friend staring down at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Barty…"

Without a word, Barty stuck out his hand. Regulus took it and Barty pulled him to his feet. Kreacher grabbed their free hands. "Hold on tight, young Masters," he croaked happily, and with another loud crack they were back in Regulus' bed room in Grimmauld Place.

"Leave us, please, Kreacher," Regulus said. Kreacher nodded, bowed and shut the door behind him. "Thank you."

"What were you thinking, huh? What were you playing at?" Barty snapped, grabbing Regulus by the front of his robes. "You could've gotten yourself killed."

Regulus looked back, his dark eyes cold. "That was the intention. The Dark Lord…he isn't what I thought." Noticing the look in Barty's eyes, he scoffed. "Say it. Call me a traitor. Call me a coward. Kill me if you must."

Barty released Regulus, staring down at him like he had never really seen him in his entire life. "What is this?" he asked, holding up a large gold locket with an ornate S worked into the front.

"It's a Horcrux," he said simply, holding out his hand for it. "It's a Horcrux of the Dark Lord himself," he explained. "I intend to destroy it."

"Why do you intend to do that?" Barty asked, looking outraged and shocked.

"Because the Dark Lord…he's just a murderer. Not a visionary. He doesn't want to cleanse the Wizarding world. He just wants to hurt people. He doesn't care if they're loyal to him or not," he defended. "If you wish to remain with them, go back. Tell them I'm dead; tell them you killed me because I was going to betray them, if you want a bit of the glory. Let them think I'm dead, so I can destroy this and find out what I can. Where are your loyalties, Bartemius? With your best friend or with the Death Eaters?"

Barty didn't speak. He didn't answer.

"So that's it, huh?" Regulus spat. Barty noticed his resemblance to his elder brother becoming more and more apparent. "This is how it ends? Fine. Hand me over for all I care. Kill me yourself! You might as well!" he snapped, his voice growing louder. He reached out and shoved his old friend back.

He still stayed silent, his face lacked the predatory darkness it sometimes had, it lacked any expression at all as he steadied himself. He didn't shove Regulus back; he instead drew his wand and placed the tip under his chin.

"So are you going to kill me right here?" Regulus asked. "Are you?" The anger in his voice had subsided; in its place was a broken hysteria. Swiping the wand away and flinching as it burnt the underside of his chin, he grabbed the front of the taller man's robes and pulled him close, so close their noses were touching. "I asked if you were going to kill me, Barty," he breathed angrily. Tears of anger and frustration, and maybe even fear welled up in his eyes, he fell down to his knees on the floor, resting his head against his oldest friend's hip. "Are you? Are you going to kill me? After all these years?" his voice breaking with tears.

"I won't kill you," Barty said finally. "I would never…"

Regulus let him go, slumping down and staring at the floor. "I was never meant for this, Barty. I was never cut out for…I can't really…I'm not like you."

Barty paid no mind to this comment. "I'll go to the rest of them next time he calls a meeting. I'll tell them you're dead. I'll tell them I killed you. I'm good enough at Occlumency to pass it off." He turned towards the door, gripping his wand so hard his knuckles were white. "I'd only ever do this for you, Reg. Lie to the Dark Lord himself," he muttered with a bitter laugh. "If you must seek a way to do whatever you are trying to accomplish, go to Dumbledore. He'll know something, he always does. But beyond this, I can be of no help."