A/N: Third challenge from silverlovedragoness. Had a bit trouble with this one, because I've read several good stories on this subject, which have said pretty much everything I have to say about this. I tried to find a different angle for this story, but I couldn't.
Fight
His death was inevitable. Of course, death was inevitable to everybody, except maybe the Dark Lord. But everything that has a beginning must have an end, and one day that end would come even to the Dark Lord. He wouldn't live long enough to see it, but he took comfort in knowing that he had played his part in it – if he could pull off what he was planning to do.
It had taken him time to come to this conclusion, but once here, it was liberating. He would die either way. He could go on serving the Dark Lord, and die. He could start fighting against him, and die. Or he could steal and destroy a piece of his soul, and die. That last one sounded the best to him. He only feared that the Dark Lord might figure it out and stop him. But even so, at least he had tried.
He wondered about the effects of the potion he was required to drink. Kreacher said it made him see horrible things. Would he see his biggest fears, or his biggest regrets? Either way, he supposed, he was going to see his brother, and that would be a consolation. He'd thought about writing to Sirius. Saying things he had always wanted to tell him – but what would he say? Would he blame his brother for abandoning him? Would he ask forgiveness for making all the wrong choices? Would he tell Sirius about his plan – if he could be sure it wouldn't lead to its discovery?
Would it do him any good if his brother thought a little less badly about him from now on? Or, more important, would it do Sirius any good? Because he was going to be dead in a couple of days, anyway, and then it wouldn't matter what anyone thought of him. It was his fault, partly. If Sirius had been a different brother to him, Regulus might have grown up a different person. Most of the blame was his own, of course. But Sirius – once a very close friend – had pretty much abandoned him after they started school. They were Sorted into separate houses, rivalling houses no less. So he could blame the Sorting Hat for that as much as he blamed his brother.
But it was his own thoughts, and desires, and ambitions that had made him a Slytherin. And were it not his own words and actions that had distanced him from his brother? Regulus knew it was his own fault, that his mistakes were the biggest, that his choices the worst, but he couldn't help but feel that Sirius had done something wrong, as well. Somewhere, along the line from there to here, they had both taken a wrong turn, and been thus separated for good.
Sirius would probably be better off not knowing. Knowledge was power, but ignorance was bliss, and his recent experiences had taught him that power was not worth wanting. Happiness would have been a much better choice. He decided to forgive his brother and write him no letter. Maybe he still had a chance to be happy. He wanted him to be happy. Maybe he was already dead.
As to his mother, he tried not to think of her. His mother adored him. It would break her heart to lose him. She hadn't been a bad mother; firm, severe, and sometimes harsh, but she had done everything she deemed necessary, and given them everything she thought they needed. It hadn't been easy for her either, to see one of her beloved sons turn his back on his home and family. After that, Regulus was all she had, and very soon, she would lose him as well. There was no point in telling his mother anything of his plans and choices. He felt bad for doing this to her, but she would lose her son one way or another. It was not her fault. She only ever did what she thought was best for her family.
Regulus had never considered himself as particularly brave. He had thought he was smart, so much more than those around him; now he only hoped he was smart enough for this. When the time came to carry out his plan, he realised that he was probably being brave. If one could be brave while being nearly scared out of his wits. The important thing was not to hope – he didn't have to do it, he could survive, there was still chance for him to live and love and be happy.
No. He would die, one way or other. He had made his choice, he'd chosen power, and this was where his path had taken him. It was not too late for him to change his mind, but the consequences of his previous choice had to be faced. He would die, but he would die with a slightly clearer conscience, with knowing that it had taken time, and lives – not just his own – but that he had made the right choice in the end. Next time, if there was such a thing, if death was not the end of all things, he would try do better.
He was not going to be happy, but he was allowed a moment of peace and content. It was right before the end of it. He was about to be pulled under the water by the Inferi – there were too many of them, but he still struggled, out of instinct more than will – when he saw Kreacher holding the amulet, fear and grief upon its face. He felt bad for abandoning Kreacher like this, but at least he'd done it. They'd done it, and he could die in peace.
He continued to fight for his life, though. He couldn't do it otherwise. It was important to keep fighting, to keep trying, even in the face of inevitable. For a moment he managed to struggle free, and for a moment he hoped – this was not the end, just the beginning, a new beginning for him. He would survive, and go home, he would talk to his Mother, he would talk to Sirius, and somehow everything would work out just fine, somehow they would all be happy again. Then he was grabbed and pulled under the water, and the image disappeared.