After they had returned from their trip, Regulus told Severus he had to go visit his mum. He developed the photo of Severus staring awestruck at the fountain, and put it in his breast pocket. He prayed his erstwhile master would kill him, rather than extract the memories from him, he prayed that Severus and Lily would escape, that Severus would love someone else, in time, that he wouldn't somehow convince himself it was all his fault. He made Kreacher swear not to lead Severus or Lily to him, and not tell them anything. "And, if it comes to that, Kreacher, everything I own must go to Severus, okay? No, don't cry. Obey, Kreacher."
It was the second time in his life Regulus forced Kreacher to do something he clearly didn't want to do.
Yes, Regulus knew he was in trouble, though he did not know why or how. That only he had been summoned was clue enough.
He showed himself a whole day too late – but he needed this day, he was entitled to this day, he needed to hear Severus say the words, he felt that he could withstand whatever assault was in store for him if he knew Severus had a chance of being okay. And he had Lily, he wouldn't be alone… It's a good thing only you were summoned. Severus will live.
He felt nothing as he walked into Lucius's house. He was the sound of footsteps on a marble floor, the pounding in his temples, the force that pulled his eyes wide open. Nothing else existed.
He knelt, but not by choice, but by magic. Of that, he was sure. It was fair enough. He couldn't expect less than that.
"Ah, Black, how nice of you to finally answer my call," the Dark Lord said, towering over him, savoring every syllable.
Regulus did not look up.
"I summoned you over a day and a half ago, Black. Where have you been?"
"Rome, My Lord.
"How lovely. And what was so important in Rome that you wouldn't come to my side immediately?"
"I was there with Severus, it was only a vacation, My Lord –"
"Oh, Severus. You love him, don't you? More than you love your master, the master whom you had vowed to? You love him, Regulus, you are faithful to him, and not to me, even though he's faithful to me?"
"My Lord –"
"Your Severus is a lot like me, Regulus. We have both been born into unfavorable circumstances, did you know? Both of us strived to improve our lot in life, something you would know nothing about. But only I," he said with a chuckle, "have become Lord Voldemort, have pushed the boundaries of magic, have worked tirelessly to become exalted, and I have been rewarded beyond my wildest dreams. Your Severus was born to be a servant, do you not understand? But you – you like those whose destiny it is to serve, I am learning. I stand above the Ministry, Dumbledore, the old families – Lucius kneels before me, Bellatrix will prostrate herself, the whole world fears my name, and you – you love Severus".
Magic and shame paralyzed Regulus in equal parts.
"How unusual. Severus, who had been a mediocre wizard's plaything from the first, the only sad little charity case even Dumbledore ignored, a Muggle's punching bag."
Anger, contempt and revulsion rose with every word.
"I have promised your foolish Severus protection, power, and love – he ate it up like all my Death Eaters do, but you – you are special. You wanted to be tested, you did not make do with getting by on your name."
Only now did Regulus notice that he had been gagged at some point – he clasped his mouth with his hand, and the Dark Lord laughed.
"You love him, and you do not love me? You want to be tested? Let us test you like he had been tested."
A belt materialized in Voldemort's hand, and his expression suddenly changed, even his posture suddenly became reminiscent of the lowlifes who frequented the Hog's Head. Regulus wasn't a stranger to pain, and when it came, he told himself it was okay, it was just like being hit with a bludger, or falling off his broom... except bludgers didn't hit you, again and again and again, on the same spot, they did not laugh as they did so, they did not ignore the involuntary squeals of pain of the body begging for mercy. "You should be grateful, you worthless pile of muck", Lord Voldemort said, and even his accent was different. "I could've asked your cousin to handle you for me. Have you seen her husband as of late? But you asked to be tested, not to be destroyed." Was – was this what the Muggle had done to Severus? Regulus wondered. Lord Voldemort looked thoroughly amused.
"So now I know why you were late. But this is not why I had summoned you in the first place, Regulus."
A rush of air in his mouth told Regulus to gag had been removed. "Your elf is still alive."
Do not ask me for Kreacher, do not ask me for Kreacher, donotaskmeforkreacher...
"I could Imperius you. I could make you choke that elf yourself. I could make you order it to kill itself."
In his agony, Regulus forgot that it would not have worked. He crouched so low, his face was nearly on the floor.
"I did not know, My Lord, when I gave him to you, that you had meant for him to die, I told him to come home".
This was the truth. This was the reason Kreacher had survived – because Regulus had faith that his master's use of the elf would be benign. Voldemort saw, in Regulus's mind, how Regulus had told the elf to do everything the Dark Lord asks, and then to come home. Regulus trembled in fear. The Dark Lord seemed lost in thought. So Regulus did not know beforehand – he was guilty only of conveying orders that I had not given, Lord Voldemort realized. This did not mean, however, that he deserved clemency.
What would Severus do, Regulus asked himself. Anything to make him stop questioning me, anything, I was innocent, I did not know that Kreacher was supposed to die.
Severus had once called him thickheaded, an entitled hothead, unhealthily attached to his elf. Every muscle in Regulus's body screamed, and his flesh was tender, he could not move, he could not escape, he could never have withstood what Severus had to endure his entire life - by his father's hand, no less - he was an entitled hothead, and nothing more.
"Why my elf?" He suddenly demanded. "Why did he need to die? "
Pain beyond pain, thought-stopping pain, eclipsed everything else in his body or mind, before either had had any chance to heal.
"You shall address me as your Lord and Master, you shall not question me, insolent child, or your elf will be imprisoned for your murder."
"Yes, My Lord," Regulus said with tears in his eyes, his pride as injured as his flesh.
"Now, to your question – I needed to test the potion your Severus had brewed. Does that surprise you? That your beloved made the poison I used on your elf?"
Regulus's head was forced to jerk up in a neck snapping motion. Voldemort peered into his eyes and he saw memories of Severus... Regulus took some solace in that.
"It does not surprise me, My Lord". His head was forced back down. He could see only the floor, and his own bruised arms. His mouth tasted metallic.
"I am willing to forgive you, Regulus."
A feeling came over Regulus that he would forever remember with disgust. Gratitude, hope, love… Anything, anything for this to end, anything to be allowed to move – to go home and ask Severus to rub something on his cracked skin…
"I beg of you, My Lord, forgive me."
"You will forget about your elf, you will forget about your Severus. You will love me, and only me, your true master."
The Dark Lord enunciated very clearly, and every word echoed. "You will love me like your cousin Bella, my beautiful warrior, loves me. You will love me so much that at my word, you will cruciate him."
Legilimency was unnecessary. Regulus's horror was evident.
"If I will it, you will do it, Regulus. You are mediocre, weak-willed, and ignorant. You were born a Black and you have accomplished nothing. I have risen to the top from a Muggle orphanage. You will do it whether you want to or not. The only question is how much pain lies in store for you."
Another tidal wave of pain swallowed the world, and when it ebbed, Regulus wanted only to die. Die, rather than be used like Bellatrix had been used. He stared at his master pleadingly, disgusted with himself to the very core of his being. Death… Give me death… Voldemort looked into his eyes and saw nothing. Regulus's mind was empty to him, an impregnable blackness.
"Your Severus doesn't love you. I have seen his heart, he did not spare you a single thought, he is using you. The fool has made a fool of you, Black. He loves me. You are nothing to him. How very sad, to be so insignificant, even the worthless, nameless, penniless half-Muggle doesn't love you. But I can solve your problem. I can make you not love him, I can make you love only me, like he does… Let this be your punishment, you will forget all about your Severus."
Regulus wriggled like vermin, fighting hopelessly against what would surely come. Can't I even picture his face before I die? He asked the universe.
His field of vision narrowed so that only the tip of his master's wand was visible, and then he heard it: obliviate .
Under the cloak, Severus stared, petrified, and Lily put her finger to her lips.