Exams. Were they worse than the Dark Lord himself? Possibly. Cora felt as prepared as she possibly could, and yet she still worried constantly. It was her last year, she was taking her N.E.W.T.'s, and she had to do well.

"Getting that last bit of studying in?" said a voice from behind her.

She turned from her spot in one of the archways of the courtyard. Regulus stood there, smiling. "I've got about twenty minutes to spare, might as well use them," she said.

"You're right, that'd be a good decision," said Regulus.

"One which you won't be making?" asked Cora.

"Correct," said Regulus.

"Are you not concerned in the slightest about your N.E.W.T.'s?" she asked.

"Well, I've got most of my future planned out, you see," he said.

Cora smiled, albeit sadly, nodding. "You should-," she began. She was interrupted by Regulus suddenly dodging to the side behind the wall. "What?" she asked. She looked out into the courtyard: A group of Slytherins was headed their way. "Go!" she whispered to Regulus.

He looked down at her, her legs curled up in front of her, her eyes staring intently up at him. A breeze lifted a tendril of black hair from her shoulder, and he knew that he didn't want to hide her. He didn't want to seem ashamed of their friendship. But if the Slytherins found out, what good could come from it aside from his own personal, internal honor? He peered out from behind the arch, and with relief realized he didn't need to make any decision of staying or going; the Slytherins had gone away.

"All clear," said Cora.

"Need any help studying?" he asked, although he knew she definitely needed no academic assistance.

But she smiled, and pulled her legs closer to her to make room on the arch. "Take a seat."

He obliged, sighing as he plopped down and leaned against the stone. He took one of the books sat on her lap, ignoring the sting of his fingertip as its microscopic top layers of skin barely touched the thin layer of air hovering above her leg. (He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to hold her, kiss her, if even microscopic contact sent shivers and sparks through his nerves.)

Cora watched him as his pupils moved back and forth as he silently read line after line, searching for something to quiz her over. She still struggled to believe any of this was real. She still sometimes had overwhelming waves of awe when she looked at him, when she took in the details of his face and his irises and the minute lines etched onto his knuckles. The kindness in his face when he looked at her was all she needed to see for the rest of her life, she thought.

He quizzed her for nearly fifteen minutes, and she, naturally, answered everything quickly and correctly, sometimes before he even finished his sentence. They laughed, forgetting where they were and who they were and any problems at all in the world.

Barty was watching from across the courtyard, listening to their laughter, the entire time.

"He's been with that mudblood," hissed Barty, standing before the other Slytherins in their common room. "I saw them together, sitting in an arch, laughing and talking...it was sickening."

As the boy paced, the flames from the fireplace crackled, their tongues engorged, lifting with vicious heat, with each of his quick, angered breaths.

"Surely it wasn't Reg," said Jungston from one of the couches.

"Don't be foolish. It was him," snarled Barty. "We've all noticed a distinct difference in his behavior lately. Something within him has changed. I have a feeling that includes his loyalty. And she is the reason."

"But Regulus is a Black!" said Allen, as if no one had thought of this, what was to him revolutionary, thought.

"Oh, we've all seen how much that name means anymore," said Barty. "Sirius must have tainted what righteousness was still left in his branch of the family tree."

The Slytherins were quiet for a moment, most of them angry, but some, like Allen, staring at the floor in quiet disbelief and concern. Moonlight was beginning to move across the floor towards the couches, its rigid beams coming closer and closer towards Barty, who still stood. The light, had it been able to reach him, surely would've been diffused in a hiss at his feet, smoking back up into the air, suffocated by his air of darkness.

"What should we do, then?" asked Lucinda Talkalot.

"Surely he could still be saved," said Allen.

There was a beat of quiet.

"There's only one way," said Barty. He paused. "He won't stop going to her unless he can't go to her."

Jungston laughed. "The blood of a mudblood - now that's fun to spill."

"But how?" asked Lucinda. "You can't do anything in Hogwarts."

Barty picked up a book from the table and hurled it at the stone wall. "I DON'T GIVE A BLOODY DAMN ABOUT THIS SCHOOL!" he screamed. Lucinda winced.

"Barty, Barty, calm it," said Jungston.

"We can leave whenever we want. We can do whatever we want. And Dumbledore," Barty chuckled. "He thinks he makes this place invincible. He has no clue what's going on within his precious walls. He thinks the threat is contained from the outside. He doesn't know that it's getting ready to break out."

The Slytherins laughed and cheered. Barty picked up his glass from beside where the book once sat, raising it up in the air. "To the blood of a mudblood!"

"To the blood of a mudblood!" they repeated.

"May our brother be saved yet," he said stoically before leaning his head back and draining the glass.

Something had still not left Regulus's mind. Something had been sitting there, tucked away, fermenting in the folds of his cortex. Sending a constant hum through each of his thoughts; an incessant underlying tone.

Horcruxes.

It was nothing, he told himself over and over again. Nothing at all. Yes, Tom Riddle had asked about them. But so did he, and he was innocent enough.

But he couldn't tell himself that forever. He couldn't ignore the hum - some hums get louder in dreams.

His body was still in his bed, sprawled beneath green coverings. The room was quiet, his eyes were closed, his breathing peaceful. But behind his eyelids, the hum was screaming. He was running, running to something he knew he needed to reach, but couldn't remember. He was surrounded by tall hedges, which reached up into a gray sky filled with mist. Their tops were indiscernible; maybe there were no tops. His sneakers slipped on muddy patches of grass as he ran wildly. Every sound was thudding in his ears: his heartbeat, his frantic breaths - even the mist seemed to emit an unabating hiss. He turned corner after corner; he was lost, and yet it was as though a rope was attached to his sternum, pulling him towards something growing ever closer.

One last corner and he skidded to a stop. Rain began pelting him, the drops so large they stung. Through blurred, watery vision, he saw it. He saw the horrific scene he had been led to.

A dark robed figure stood, malevolent and shrouded in a sickening air, in the middle of the muddy clearing. Behind him, hundreds of naked bodies lay on top of each other in a massed heap. Arms hung out, limp. Dirt caked the pale, dead skin. Several blank eyes stared out at nothing from amongst the bodies.

Each pale form became part of the whole pile; indiscernible. But Regulus blinked, and began to gag. A body was sprawled out, limp like a dead animal with eyes wide open, with its curly black hair becoming matted by dirt and rain. Cora.

He gagged uncontrollably until finally he threw up into the mud. He fell to his knees as he heaved, his knees squidging into the grass. He was sobbing, heaving, and maybe screaming - he wasn't sure.

The robed figure turned towards him, and in his gaze seemed to be a malign shadow that passed over the clearing, cutting through the rain.

Regulus looked up, his chest still lifting and falling, tears and rain mixing with mud on his cheeks.

And suddenly, the robed figure became two. Regulus blinked, questioning his vision, before the figure became three. Then four. Then five. Then six. Then seven. All of them began approaching him, gliding across the grass like part of the mist.

Regulus threw himself up from his mattress. He felt his blanket, listened to the quiet of the dormitory. Yes, this was real. And so were, he now knew, the horcruxes. The image of Cora's limp body flashed in his mind; his heart ached. The Dark Lord was going to kill endless amounts of people - people who were like Cora to someone else. He couldn't lose his Cora; he couldn't let someone else lose their Cora. The horcruxes were the only things in the way. He knew that now, with a newfound and terrifying certainty

Falling asleep again was useless. Day came slowly. His fingers flew to dress him. His strides were long and twitchy with anxiety. He knew Cora would be on her way to Charms, so that was where he headed. To Hell with his own classes.

He stood against the wall just outside the classroom door, watching the passing crowd. Her curls stood out against the blurred faces as she approached, blessedly, alone. Her eyes latched onto his immediately, confusion seeping into them as she got closer.

"I need to talk to you," said Regulus, standing straight.

"About what?" asked Cora in a low voice, averting her gaze, trying to keep up their usual act of not knowing each other when in public.

Regulus glanced around. "Not here," he said. "Meet me by Wilfred the Wistful after Charms."

Cora nodded, noting the gravity in his voice. She continued into her classroom, but she already knew she wouldn't be able to focus on any of today's lessons. Her brow stayed furrowed for the entire period.

Regulus waited by Wilfred the Wistful's statue, wondering what else those stone eyes had seen. Skipping class wasn't a common activity of his, and certainly not Slug Club worthy. But of what importance was class anymore, compared to this?

After what seemed like days, students began filtering past him. Class had been let out. He peered over the heads until he saw the curls.

"What is it?" asked Cora the moment she was near him.

"Wait until they pass by," said Regulus. Once the hall was clear, he responded to her quizzical look. "Listen, I've found something."

"What sort of something?"

"I first found it in a book in the restricted section, for Slughorn's essay," said Regulus. "A piece of dark magic."

"How dark?" asked Cora.

"Really dark," said Regulus. He slipped his hands in his pockets and stepped closer to her. "Cora, you've never heard of a horcrux, have you?"

She shook her head.

"It's...it's an object that can...contain a part of your soul. Preserve it. Protect it," said Regulus.

"What makes it so dark?" asked Cora.

"It is created by killing," said Regulus. "It splits your soul."

Cora paused, still furrowing her brow. "Are you…thinking of doing this or something?"

Regulus gave as much of a laugh as he could. "No, no," he said. "I went and asked Slughorn about it to see if I could do my essay on such a thing. He seemed almost...scared, when I asked him. He told me it was too dark, that I shouldn't be looking into things like that. And he told me...well, Cora, he told me that the Dark Lord asked him the very same thing back when he was a student here."

Cora's lips parted, just barely. Her eyebrows became unfurrowed. "And you said a horcrux...contains a part of your soul?"

Regulus nodded. "It would prevent you from being killed. To die, the horcrux would have to be destroyed first."

Cora took a breath. "But just because...he...asked about it doesn't mean he actually created a horcrux."

"No, and that's exactly what I thought," he said. "But...I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. And then last night…" He saw her dead body again.

"What happened last night?" she asked gently, concernedly.

"I had a dream. A nightmare, really. It was him, and then he split into two. He kept multiplying. And he was in front of this pile...this pile of dead people. Bodies," said Regulus slowly. "Cora, it felt like a message. Like my brain yelling at me to realize what I know."

Cora fell quiet, breathing slowly. She nodded. "So...if there is a war...he can't be killed."

"Not unless his horcrux is, or horcruxes are, destroyed," said Regulus.

Cora closed her eyes. "How is anyone supposed to know what these objects are?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Regulus. "But...someone close to him might have a better chance at finding out."

She looked up at him with sad eyes, and he looked down at her with his own.

"I know this is all...well, terrifying, but...Cora, no matter what happens, you need to just know that I l-," began Regulus. But he was cut off by a yell from the down the corridor.

"OY MUDBLOOD!" the voice shouted.

Regulus leaned away from Cora. "Barty," he muttered, fear seeping into his eyes.

A group of Slytherins was approaching. Cora took a step back.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM," shouted Barty. "INCARCEROUS!"

Thin cords flew from his wand at Cora. She fell to the ground, wriggling, bound and gagged.

"What are you doing?" yelled Regulus.

"Saving you from this FILTH," said Jungston. "You'll end up with tainted meat if you keep with her."

"Barty's seen you together, Reg," said Lucinda. "And we've all seen how you've been different."

"Do you even bloody know what is at stake here?" asked Barty. "You cohorting with some mudblood puts your loyalty in question. And that puts your life in question."

"When you chose to be a Death Eater, you chose a life of servitude," said Jungston. "Y'better be up for it, Black. Don't turn out like your brother, who's a dead man walkin'."

"You don't understand," said Regulus. "I don't know what you mean by how I've been different, but I just, she was helping me study. That's all."

"Likely story," said Lucinda.

"It's true, Lucinda," said Regulus seriously. "I know it was thick of me to ask a mudblood for help. But she makes such high marks, I had to." He was surprised at how easily mudblood still slipped off his tongue. "I want my academics to reflect my general level of effort. You all know that's always been important to me. It's something I thought I could offer the Dark Lord."

Barty still scowled, but stepped back and forth restlessly. His stupid mind was struggling to take it all in, to consider the story's validity. "That true, mudblood?"

Cora, on the ground, did her best to nod. Her eyes met with Regulus; they both knew. This had to be done.

"I'm sorry," said Regulus. "I know it was absolutely idiotic. I needed her help. I won't use her anymore."

"Yeah, that's right you won't," said Jungston. "Just be glad we didn't go straight to the Dark Lord. As of right now, he still has trust in you."

Regulus sighed in loud relief. "Good, thank you, truly," he said. "I want to remain a trusted follower. Close to him." His eyes glanced over Cora's again.

"We were gonna kill the mudblood," said Barty. He looked up at Regulus.

Regulus struggled to contain his rage, his terror. He felt like he was holding in every cough he had ever stifled.

"For good measure," said Lucinda. "Do something to her."

"Why don't you do the honors, Regulus?" said Jungston. The other Slytherins agreed.

Regulus gave a laugh. "Alright, alright," he said. "What should it be, then?"

"Cruciatus," said Barty. "If we're not gonna kill her, do the next best thing."

Regulus's laugh weakened. "Oh, c'mon. We don't have to do that. It was me who was wrong, she was just helping."

"She deserves it just for being in this school," said Jungston. "Do it."

"Unless you're lying to us," said Lucinda. "Prove that you're not."

Regulus chuckled again. "Calm down, Talkalot," he said. He pulled out his wand. He pointed it down at the helpless, bound body of Cora. His sweet, sweet Cora. He felt the eyes of the Slytherins watching him, but all he could see were hers. They bore into him, full of seriousness. They said, "Do it. You have to." They didn't beg; they commanded.

And so he did. The word fell sloppily, quickly, from his mouth. "Crucio." He watched as she began to writhe wildly on the floor, her screams muffled by the gag.

Cora Danes. A person with so much meaning, such depth to her soul. A heart full of the most genuine compassion he had ever seen in a person. A mind with a brilliance immeasurable. A person who seemed so much more than a person, and here she was, left to squirm in excruciating pain while others watched, like a tortured animal. Dehumanized. It was the most disgusting, horrifying injustice Regulus had ever been forced to witness, been forced to cause. And yet perhaps it was just as wrong that he had to hold in his tears and smile.