Kreacher serves the House of Black, and when Kreacher was summoned to prepare the house toward a family dinner, Kreacher came – Master Regulus might have ordered Kreacher to remain hidden and not do anything, but Mistress Black outranked Master Regulus and she had ordered Kreacher to cook his special onion soup, foie gras, and other staples of French cuisine for her guests. She invited her dear nieces, Bellatrix and Narcissa, who hadn't allowed themselves to be seen in public with miserly mongrels, and put on a simpering smile – she was lucky they still called her family after what her sons had done to her.
"Oh, Aunt Burgie, you must let me borrow that elf of yours" Narcissa said, "for the next family celebration. His cooking is beyond compare."
Bellatrix suddenly let go of her spoon with a jerking motion and turned her face, flush with anger, to Lucius. They exchanged glances, and Lucius seemed nervous. What could possibly have gone wrong?
"Of course, Narcissa, darling. You can have him whenever you want – we are family, aren't we?"
"Exactly," Bellatrix said, still glaring at Lucius. "Family. And family doesn't lie to family, doesn't deceive family, doesn't choose anybody else over family". Walburga had wondered why Rudolphus did not come – what was this about? Was there anything that she, the keeper of the family secrets, didn't know?
"I agree with you, Bella", Lucius said, stressing the word "agree".
"Do not call me that," she ordered. "Only he calls me that. Suddenly, she seemed ecstatic. "He and my sister, not people who try to sully our – our – all to advance themselves –"
"Bella," Narcissa said ominously, "this is a Black family dinner, and you're talking to my husband."
Walburga was more confused than ever, but she did not let it on. She had to change the subject somehow.
"So, Bellatrix – how is your dear husband doing?"
It was, it turned out, exactly the wrong thing to ask.
"Do not ask me about the fate of traitors," Bellatrix hissed. Had Rodolphus been unfaithful to her? Walburga wondered. She did not think Rodolphus had this kind of initiative in him. Bellatrix suddenly pushed her chair back. "If you would excuse me, I must part ," she told the air around her. "And Lucius, dear brother," she inflected, "you will do well to join me, mark my words."
Lucius's eyes flitted to his left for a fraction of a second.
"Oh, I shall," he told her, "and I shall sit right beside him, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix was indignant, mutinous, but she seemed to accept the conclusion they had reached, apparently with their eyes alone. It seemed like so many non-sequiturs to Walburga, who was soon left quite alone with Orion, who said nothing, and Narcissa, who let out a deep, morose sigh.
"It appears that Lucius has forgotten our plans", she said, composing herself. "I do apologize for his rudeness. Honestly, I hope he doesn't pass his manners on to -" then she suddenly went quiet .
Nobody was making any sense. Walburga tried to understand where her dinner had gone wrong. She had Kreacher serve her guests some of his famous onion soup, Narcissa complimented his cooking, and suddenly Bellatrix was upset.
Both she and Lucius had been marked. Could this be about him, the Dark Lord?
Kreacher's ears were bruised raw. He had apparently been punishing himself for something – Walburga could not tell what it was, nor did she care. "Kreacher serves the
House of Black," she heard the frazzled elf say to himself, over and over. "Master Regulus, Master Sirius, Master Black, Mistress Black. Master Regulus, Master Sirius, Master Black, Mistress Black." That, indeed, was the order of preference. Why Kreacher had felt it necessary to memorize it now was beyond her.
Immediately outside the house, Bellatrix, who was very tall, and who was wearing very high heels, towered over Lucius, and with her hand on her wand, she said to him: "You'd better hope Regulus has a very good explanation for why this elf is still alive, Malfoy", and Lucius snarled at her that Regulus was her cousin, and she told him she wasn't the one who recruited him, she wasn't the one who was wary of showing her loyalty, and that he had better understand, sooner rather than later, that the Dark Lord was above all others, above blood family, above his own life. "You should consider it very kind of me to give you a warning," she added. "You are lucky you are married to my sister."
Lucius had planned to bring a son into a world where his father was second only to the Dark Lord himself, not to Bellatrix and her perverse notions, but when they entered the room where their master had been waiting for them, Lucius's instincts made him collapse on the ground and apologize that to his regret, the elf was alive. For a second, his master's eyes glimmered red - It was surely a trick of the light – and his brow had become unfurrowed, and his jaw unclenched.
"Rise," he orders them, and with a breath of relief, they did.
"If Regulus did nothing wrong, Regulus will be fine," he reassured them. "I have suspected him before and I was wrong, was I not? You do remember, Bella?"
Bellatrix's face turned pink and her pupils dilated. "My Lord –"
"Hush."
She fell quiet at once.
"For me, you will destroy your own flesh and blood, for me you will kill, for me you will die, is that right, Bella?"
Tears welled in her eyes. The Dark Lord wiped them with his fingers and Bellatrix put her hands over his.
"Lucius," he said sternly. "Go and attend to your wife. Bellatrix and I must discuss Regulus's fate."
Lucius obliged happily. After what Lucius could only assume was a very lively discussion ( how am I meant to compete with that , Lucius complained to himself), very far away, Regulus felt the first taste of his master's displeasure, but he did not realize what it was, for he was lost in Severus's eyes, too in love with the man who had given sight to the sightless and who had just gotten them the venom for free.
For days to come, Severus would blame himself, for not noticing that Regulus was acting strange. Memories of Regulus pretending that his arm didn't hurt, that he was not more worried than he had been before, tormented Severus. But they spent the day, another whole day, in Bucharest, walking along the cobblestone streets and feasting their eyes on the medieval buildings and the local trees, even a vampire or two, creatures Severus was sure were Veelas but that called themselves "Iele", walking along the beautiful Bellu Cemetery and theorizing about who among the people buried there was actually magic… Regulus said nothing. All he had told Severus was, annoyingly, how wonderful Severus was, how he must never forget it, no matter what, no matter what happens. He made Severus swear it, which had been excruciatingly unnatural for Severus, but Regulus would not relent. It was one thing when he insisted on Severus giving him compliments, but when he insisted on Severus complimenting himself – that was another thing altogether. Severus could only tolerate it by swearing liberally – "fine, Regulus, you blithering imbecile, I'm wonderful and perfect, are you happy, or do you want me to sing a song too? You're being insufferable, you know that?"
"That's all I wanted, Sev."
"Whatever you say," Severus scowled.
Oh, how could I have been so stupid, how could I not have realized, Regulus had been summoned, he knew what was going to happen, you utter moron, he told himself, looking around the empty apartment that they had shared.
But this was exactly what Regulus didn't want, for Severus to blame himself. That's why Regulus forced me to say these things – of course. Clever as always.
"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life, okay?" Regulus had said ( and you still didn't get it – still, you were thinking only of how to find the other Horcruxes ).
"Oh, I'm sure being born a Black is a close second," Severus had teased him.
"No, it's not. I don't even want to be a Black anymore. I want -" he thought a little - "you, and I want to see the Dark Lord finished, and I want you to be happy." He seemed pleased with the list he had made. "And Blacks get what they want, so you will do it, right?"
"What is it with you today?" Severus had demanded. And you didn't tell him that you love him, you didn't tell him you would do it, that he would do anything he asks.
"Nothing," Regulus had said, covering his mouth with his hand.
Severus had only one thing to say in his own defense – though he had been trained in lying in the most brutal way, to hide his magic, to cover up for Sirius against his will, to protect Regulus from the legilimens – he had very rarely been lied to; the Muggle and his subsequent tormentors had never made a secret of their feelings about him, and those who had lied to him, who had fooled him – the Dark Lord – never did it to protect him.
How could I have known, Regulus, that you are lying to protect me, that you love me enough to do it, that you didn't mind looking like a sentimental sap, that you didn't care if I swear at you as long as you got me to say the words you needed me to understand?
Severus breathing was shallow, his head was full of cotton. Severus missed him – them, but especially him – like part of himself. He gathered his thoughts with all his might. Regulus had cared about him enough to lie to him – loved him enough to endure trials that would have devastated lesser men, and then Voldemort (Severus paradoxically no longer feared the name) - made it so Regulus no longer cared, no longer loved him. He had done something that made Severus do the unthinkable, that had even made Lily corrupt herself. Lord Voldemort will become dust.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "Control your emotions," the book had said. Severus controlled his emotions.