A/N: Written for:

The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, prompt: Write about Regulus Black

Team: The Ballycastle Bats

Position: Seeker

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

~Robert Frost~

January 10th, 1977.

Respectful Mother,

Today is the day that I, Regulus shall finally shine pride upon our family, our ancestry, our very lineage. It took me a mere moment to consent to joining The Dark Lord's side, for his magnificent thirst for power so mirrors my own. I feel as though I have known the man all my life, when in reality our acquaintance hardly stretches back to over a month. He is more of a brother to me than Sirius will ever, ever be (though I am rather intimidated to tell him that), and this fact saddens me more than I have ever allowed myself to let on. The ceremony will be taking place a week from the day I send you this letter at a location that I cannot yet reveal to you.

School is getting even more monotonous than ever, mother, if you'd ever believe that to be possible. While I am not as vicious as Lucius or cousin Bella towards the swarms of rather gormless muggleborns that strut down the corridors under the delusion that they actually belong here, Lucius seems to believe that he is the Dark Lord himself and I am honestly beginning to wonder if Bella actually fancies the Dark Lord, as strange as that may sound. (But cousin Bella is rather strange, isn't she?)

I have to run now for I have an essay pending for Charms, and it will not do for a Black to earn the consternation of a professor by submitting it late.

I will write later,

Regulus.

January 14th, 1977

Regulus,

It is my most sincere request that you never, ever mention that disappointment of a brother of yours in your letters to me ever again. I am extremely proud of you for having the courage to carry forward the Black tradition in your deeds and your actions – most of your professors have only the most positive things to say about you. The rest of the mudblood professors aren't meant to be there in the first place and thus their opinion is of little use to me.

And, Regulus; while I wholly encourage you and even beseech you to pledge your alliance to the Dark Lord and his most noble quest, it pains me to also request you to stay on the good side of your professors at Hogwarts if only for a little while. The Dark Lord is in need of greater numbers than ever before to fulfill his quest for pureblood supremacy, and won't be there to guide you for long periods of time while he is out garnering an army.

Stay safe and be brave, my son, and I truly hope that you do not ever let me down. One disappointment of a son is hard enough for your poor mother to recover from.

I stay in wait of further news,

Mother.

Regulus' eyes pored over the cryptic letter that his owl had just dropped before him and wondered for the millionth time as to why his usually domineering mother sounded so out of character. His thoughts flew back to the last couple of days in a vain attempt to identify a cause that he could attribute for her shift in demeanor, but came up with nothing.

Sighing, Regulus ran a hand through his sleek ebony hair and balked slightly as his eyes caught the time.

The Dark Lord was not going to be happy.

He made a mad dash for the Room of Requirement for his first ever personal meeting with the enigmatic man he had only ever had the chance to interact with as a group. He never let it show, but it bothered him to be constantly reminded of his insignificance as a new addition to a group that housed people from some of the most influential pureblood families of the wizarding world. Never mind that he came from one such family himself.

An ornate door made completely of silver materialized into the blank wall before Regulus and he twisted the serpentine handle before entering the room noiselessly.

Everything about the room reminded him of a crypt.

The temperature dropped about twenty degrees and his breath was already beginning to form in small puffs before him. Regulus looked around the empty room, nervously wondering just how much trouble he was in. A stray idea entered his mind and he casually wondered if he could be heard from anyone in the castle if he were to, say, scream while he was in this room. He shuddered, the hair on his arms suddenly standing on end. Probably not.

"Regulus Black. How kind of you to finally make it."

He jumped at the dangerous voice that seemed to come from directly behind him and he swirled around only to find Tom Riddle or Voldemort, as he now liked to be addressed emerge from the shadows.

"I apologize," he managed to stammer, intimidated.

There was a time when he and Voldemort (even that name sounded foreign to his tongue) were able to have conversations of all manner that flowed freer than wine at a pureblood wedding.

Not anymore.

Regulus stared openly at the boy who had become a man in front of his very eyes in a matter of months while he'd managed to retain exactly what Voldemort despised – his innocence.

"Your apologies aren't getting me anywhere, Regulus," he responded curtly, and Regulus hung his head low in shame.

But I was late by just ten minutes, his mind called out, beginning to despise the constant injustice that one man was capable of delivering. He has been late plenty of times, and we are all expected to believe that he was outdoing something for the greater good!

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Regulus? You are uncharacteristically silent today, and that is saying something."

His head snapped up to look into the dark eyes that were so devoid of warmth.

"Tell me," Regulus began causally, and then froze.

A thousand unwanted images flooded his mind, threatening to drown him in their abyss.

Voldemort killing an entire family with the flick of a wand.

Voldemort and Bella cackling madly as the pair tortured a boy he recognised as a Hufflepuff, who screamed over and over again in tortured agony.

Voldemort gently opening a large wooden chest in a very dark corner of the castle, and caressing…

Regulus' blank eyes widened in horror.

Was that a snake? In the castle? The creature had been enormous.

"Regulus!" Voldemort snapped, his voice growing more dangerous by the second.

"How the hell did you do that?"

"I…I don't know, my Lord…"

He hung his head down, suddenly terrified of looking into the older man's eyes.

"Tell me," he ordered. "Have you been practicing Legilimency?"

"Legili…what?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Regulus!" His wand was out in a flash, aimed directly at Regulus' exposed neck. In a heartbeat, the younger boy whipped his own wand out, feeling the courage seep into his being from his warm wand.

"No, my Lord," he enunciated clearly, his voice steely. "I don't even know what just happened. But rest assured I haven't been practicing anything that could allow me to read your mind, if that is what I did. All I got were images," he shrugged casually.

He reminded Voldemort so much of Sirius, and his temper escalated.

"Imperio!" he bellowed, and Regulus crumbled.

His last words before hitting the floor were, "I'm sorry, brother."

And then his world went black.

A/N: In all my years of writing fanfiction, this is the first time that I have ever written about Regulus - so please be nice and do drop a review on your way out? Thank you :)