Tom Riddle had surprised everyone when he took a job at Borgin & Burke's, as a lowly assistant, rather than take advantage of the many opportunities that had presented themselves to him. Everyone believed he would be Minister one day, especially Horace, but the Ministry was not Tom's grand ambition, and the path Horace had laid was irrelevant.

His path would be winding, he knew - but to go where none had gone before had required doing things none had ever done. To be Minister was a small dream for small men - Tom would rule the wizards and the muggles alike, not only in Britain but in the world. He was not bound by the laws of magic, morality, or nature - he had unlimited time. The first leg of his journey was to achieve true immortality.

Tom had suffered indignities before. Being examined by ignorant Muggle doctors, the absurd prohibition to use magic in the summers, before he came of age, and now - bowing to kiss Heptzibah Smith's old, repulsive hand. It felt like crepe paper on his lips and tasted like make-up powder, but that would be the last time. Mrs. Smith had made the mistake of showing Mr. Burke's lowly assistant her treasures.

"He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it," she had said, and she was absolutely right. He could appreciate her treasures better than even she could. When he saw Helga Hufflepuff's Cup lying, unused, in a leather box, as though it was dead, it had truly hurt his heart. He intended to give it a new life, a future as glorious as its past. But when she pulled out the locket that had been his birthright, Mrs. Smith had condemned herself to death. Yes, the cup could be stolen easily and replaced with a counterfeit, and stupid old Heptzibah who had lived, it seemed, for a few moments of giggly flirting with him every now and then, would be none the wiser, but the locket - for the locket, she had to be punished most dearly.

Tom Riddle murdered the pathetic old hag. He poisoned the beverage that he had so kindly handed her ("Tom, you are too humble! So charming, so modest, how am I meant to fill my time here waiting for your next visit?"), and she looked at him with such pitiful naked innocence, and she died so quickly, her eyes rolled over, her mouth foaming, and within minutes, the cow was still, and her elf's memories had been altered.

Mrs. Smith should be pleased, Tom chuckled to himself. She would play a grander role in history than she deserved.

It was suitable, Lord Voldemort thought, that possession of the cup should transfer from one foolish female whose sole purpose in life was to please him to another - and if Bellatrix was young, fierce, bellicose and beautiful where Mrs. Smith was only a decrepit, repulsive crone - well, it was proof that Lord Voldemort had ascended above Tom Riddle.

Yes, Bella was rather more useful than as a temporary guardian of old relics. Ever since she had come to him, he knew she would be valuable to him. She had prodigious skill, and she did not understand the meaning of her own oppression. She longed to be released from her marriage but she did not admit it, not even to herself. Lord Voldemort had confided in her that he had plans to live forever - and he had promised her the only respectful way out of the predicament only he knew she was in. Bellatrix was no stranger to the disgust that Tom had felt when he looked at Smith - he could see it in the way she looked at her very own Rodolphus - and he offered her an escape. Her dull, dim-witted, doughy husband would be replaced, in due time, with her true love and master, he had promised her, and she would live with her true love, the greatest Dark wizard of all time, forever - if she proved herself.

She did not know, when the cup came to be in her possession, just how many Horcruxes Lord Voldemort had made. She did not know, the poor soul, that Lord Voldemort had no intention of teaching her the secrets of this particular dark art. He was not foolish enough to create his own match. Bellatrix's fate was to be, ultimately, ordinary, though Tom believed it would be tragic for such beauty to decay and he had hoped she would die young. But just because Bellatrix was to die did not mean she did not have a special place in his heart after all, and he did not intend to waste her while she was still within his grasp. To not use her would be crueler, after all , he noted to himself whenever he witnessed her delightfully amusing longing.

Regulus was scared to open his eyes. It wasn't a nightmare, I'm really at Dumbledore's office, and if it's not a dream, how am I meant to live with myself?"

But he was not asleep, and he felt three pairs of eyes boring into him, waiting for something to happen. He did not remember anything, but he had a feeling, a deep, profound knowledge, that he distrusted and despised Dumbledore and yet he needed him, that the mudblood had been his friend for some reason, that the half-blood he had just violently pushed away from himself was the most important person in the world, and that he was in a world of trouble. It did not help that his entire body hurt, and he had no idea why.

"I don't understand," he said, when he finally opened his eyes. "How did I get here? Why?"

He did not even know who to trust. All he knew was that his heart longed for the person he had just hurt, whom Kreacher insisted that he loved. But it made no sense. Me? I love him? Mum would kill me. And then he remembered - according to his great great grandfather, his mum already knew. And so did the Dark Lord. His love, apparently, was as strong as it was unnatural and implausible, and his master did not like it.

Nobody seemed like they were about to answer his questions. Severus merely continued to stare at him with a mixture of concern and horror, as if watching someone on the brink of death.

"Is this true?" Regulus asked him. "Do I -"

Severus knew Regulus would not have asked for confirmation, if the rest of that sentence had been "hate you thoroughly and inexplicably, no matter what you do." He saw in the way Regulus looked at him, in the way his posture changed from tense and arrogant to limp and adoring, that his Regulus was back even if Regulus's memories were not. With two hands on his mouth and glistening eyes, he nodded in disbelief. His fate had not been so cruel, after all, just yet.

"But why do I love you, and how am I here, and what -"

Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him from talking.

"There are many things I do not know, myself," he said. "Your memories will return in due time, I hope. But for me to help you, I must ask some questions."

Then Dumbledore did something very strange. He looked at each one of them, and then he gave his wand to Lily.

"You have no reason to trust me, and yet you have come to me," he said to Severus. "Why?"

"Lily said you could fix him," Severus said simply.

"You have saved Mr. Black from Voldemort's clutches. How?"

Lily looked down. "We used Imperius," she said with shame. "There was no other way - You-Know-Who would have killed him! Or he would have tried to kill Kreacher again!"

"Kreacher?" Regulus asked.

"Very well, Lily," Dumbledore reassured her. "I regret that I have found that the Unforgivables are sometimes unavoidable," he added cryptically. "You have used them for nobler ends than I."

"Kreacher led us to Regulus and we used James's cloak," she continued. "And You-Know-Who had tortured him, and then he obliviated him."

As Regulus looked at Severus, perplexed, Severus nodded very briefly.

"But why would he hurt me? I am faithful to him, I've always wanted to join him!"

"We have. We joined together. I asked you to join him with me," Severus said.

"He used Kreacher to test poison on, and Kreacher nearly died," Lily supplemented.

Severus could sense her holding back, he could swear he heard her thinking: "and then you forced James to drink the very same poison and watched him drown."

Senseless and horrible as it had all sounded, it made Regulus feel better - without their explanations, there was only impenetrable terror.

Sufficiently satisfied that Regulus would recover, Severus now thought only of how he would be best protected. The flat was not safe enough, nor was his mother's house, and Regulus himself had helped Death Eaters attempt to kidnap a student out of Hogwarts - they would kidnap him from his bed if he did not deliver Kreacher to Voldemort to be killed. Severus was ashamed that he entertained the thought of sacrificing Kreacher, knowing how much that elf meant to Regulus, and after he saw the elf trying to convince Regulus that he indeed loved Severus - and he banished the idea. Regulus had to go into hiding somewhere, but where could he go where the Dark Lord or his cronies and his servants ( such as yourself ) won't find him? He ran through every plausible solution, and none of them were good enough. When his ever-helpful, hyperactive, exhausted, and exhausting mind threw the answer at him as a joke, it inspired such resistance, he knew immediately that this was the solution.

"Muggles," he found himself saying, without context.

"What about Muggles?" Lily asked.

"Reg, you have to go into hiding and you have to go into hiding among Muggles."

"What? Why?" Regulus protested.

"When I'd Imperiused you, I made you promise him Kreacher, so that he would let you go. You're not going to give him Kreacher, so he will think your memory hasn't been wiped, that you lied to him and betrayed him, and -"

He could not continue speaking.

"But why Muggles?" Regulus protested.

"They will search for you, far and wide, and you know the Death Eaters, they have power, they will find you. Your own family will give you up - Bellatrix surely would, Narcissa too, if she ever finds out what I did when I looked like you, and there is no need to discuss Sirius. Regulus, it's the only way." Severus himself grew more certain of his ridiculous idea the more he spoke. "You know who they - we - are," he continued. "None of them would know where to start looking for you among Muggles. They are all purebloods and Muggle haters - it's the only thing that might work."

"What about my cousin Andromeda, she's been disowned because she married a Mud- a Muggle-born," Regulus reached for a solution.

"If you came up with it, so will Bellatrix, eventually," Severus said. "It can't be the last thing you would do. It has to be something you would never do."

"We can use the Fidelius charm," Dumbledore intervened, but he knew it would never work. The Fidelius charm required complete trust, and the levels of trust in that room were tenuous at best. And can it be any other way? Dumbledore asked himself. You have already sacrificed Severus, and Sirius. Why should they believe you? Severus himself would be too obvious a choice for a secret keeper, and he had just proven to be an asset that could not be sacrificed, and Lily - Lily had different responsibilities growing inside her, she could be persuaded to give the secret up, just as Albus's own mother and father had stopped at nothing for Ariana. "But to use it," he continued, "would put another one among you at unnecessary risk. Severus is right."

"Both," Severus said decisively. "I will be Secret Keeper."

"Are you sure, Severus?" Dumbledore asked him. "You know he can be very persuasive. You will be putting a target on your back."

Dumbledore pretending to care whether Severus lived or died infuriated him. He is no longer your headmaster, you can say anything you wish to say. He looked at Dumbledore with obvious, overt hatred. "I know you can think of something ," he said, placing a not-so-delicate stress on the word 'something', "to keep me from talking, if you really want to."

Regulus had no clue what Severus was getting at, but Lily opened her eyes wide. "What? We know it works," he taunted. "Or is it not as satisfying if I'm asking you to do it?"

Severus knew that even if the Dark Lord would do to him what he had done to Regulus, and somehow made it so Severus would desperately want to give the secret up, bad enough that he would be willing to die, he could not. Regulus would go into hiding among the Muggles, and he would be Secret Keeper, and he would be magically compelled to protect Regulus as he had been compelled to protect his filthy brother - and even if a Death Eater would somehow glimpse Regulus on the Tube, they would not see him. It was the ultimate protection, and nothing else was good enough. The monumental task that lay ahead of him - to continue to fight alone - could be possible only if he knew that everything had been done.

"But I can't go hide among Muggles!" Regulus protested. "I don't know anything!"

"Right," Lily breathed. "Stop complaining. You're not the one who is going to give birth at a Muggle hospital! By the way, we just call it 'hospital'".

"What are you talking about?" Regulus asked her wearily. He still could not understand what had compelled him to be civil to her.

"You can't very well go into hiding alone, can you? And who knows how long until you can come out? And when I was born, my mum told me I must have caused a blackout or something at the hospital, but of course they didn't know it was magic, and now I won't be able to go to St. Mungo's!"

She sounded apologetic again as she said she had to get out of the fighting, anyway, and that at least that way she could still help, and that it would be good practice for when she has the baby, if she had to teach Regulus, who had never met a Muggle, how to live as one for as long as it took.

Albus gestured at a large silver bowl. "This device," he said, "helps store and restore memories. Severus has kindly given his memories to prove our claims, but I am sure that they're still in your mind, somewhere."

His current student and two former students looked at him, expecting him to continue speaking. "And since you will be indisposed to give them to me, I need them now," he finally said, addressing Regulus.

"Fortunately, the trusty Pensieve can help. You don't need to remember what happened, you only need to want to draw them from your head. It might even prove beneficial to your recovery."

Regulus no longer cared what would happen to him, or perhaps he had convinced himself he was dreaming. He allowed Severus to extract the memory from him without objection.

If Dumbledore was at all upset by what he had seen, he did not show it. Rather, his reaction was something of a non-sequitur to everyone. "Have any of you ever heard of the famous case of Hokey the elf?"

He was met with blank stares. "Naturally, you haven't. Before your time, as it were. Lord Voldemort has murdered many, and he started on this path long before he was Lord Voldemort. Thanks to Lily, we know he had planned to make six Horcruxes, and thanks to you, we know he made at least two."

Severus did not protest this unnecessary explanation, for Regulus's sake.

"I doubt that he would have remembered poor Hokey if the murder she allegedly committed was not somehow special to him. Regulus, he said to you your elf will be framed for your murder. Those who are old enough to remember Hokey's story could tell you, even then, we were all shocked that an elf would do such a thing to her mistress. But it was convenient to believe her - she had given a full confession, and has been in Azkaban ever since. If Lord Voldemort had done it, it would not be the first time he had framed someone society tends to overlook. It is unfortunate, how we disregard some of our magical brethren, consider them unworthy of the same…"

As Dumbledore droned, Severus seethed. It is all well and good for you to overlook some people, isn't it?

"I now suspect Voldemort killed Heptzibah Smith himself, and framed her elf," he finally said.

"Smith," Regulus repeated, rubbing his forehead. He started reciting names and counting them on his fingers, until he reached "Hufflepuff". So he remembers the pureblood family trees, that's a relief. I wonder what he'll say when he finds out how common it is among the Muggles. And Black, for that matter, Severus commented to himself with bitterness. Lord Voldemort had left Regulus a husk - he appeared to have no idea what anyone was talking about until the name "Smith" came up.

"Yes, Mr. Black, you are correct," Dumbledore said, and Regulus gave a pathetic smile.

"We need the elf. We need to know what Tom Riddle stole. It pains me to say that by the looks of it, the elf was subjected to the same treatment as you, Mr. Black, but I will do my best to help her. I will write to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as soon as you leave. But for now, let us move forward with arranging your protection."

"I haven't agreed to this," Regulus protested meekly.

"You do not remember, but I saw what he did to you," Dumbledore said quietly. "If you need persuasion, you are at liberty to look for yourself. When he learns that you were here, that you will not give him your elf, that your memories have been restored however partly, he will kill you, and your elf, and your friends."

Regulus fell silent, and Dumbledore took his wand out. "Our next order of business… Severus, are you ready?"

There was a fire in Severus's eyes as he looked so intently at Dumbledore, with open hostility. "You didn't ask me if I was ready last time," he said slowly, enunciating through his gritted teeth.

"You must know how ashamed of that I am," Dumbledore said.

"Get on with it," Severus snapped at him. Is he going to make me beg him to do it so he feels good about himself? Was it not shameful for me when Potter made himself out to be the hero, when he hung me in the air knowing I knew his secret and would never speak?

Dumbledore took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Very well, then," he said at last, and pointed the wand at Severus's mouth and throat. Unlike the last time, Severus looked at him unflinchingly throughout. Both of them remembered what it was like, when Dumbledore had cast the original silencing charm that nearly cost Severus Lily, Regulus, and his life - how Severus pleaded with him silently to stop, and then looked only at the floor.

When Dumbledore was done, he told Severus: "You despise me."

"Yes," Severus confirmed.

"You have joined Lord Voldemort's ranks."

"Yes, I have."

"Yet you came to me, and made me do the very thing you hate me for, and put yourself in mortal peril - you must know what will happen if your master ever finds out about this. I must know, Severus, why?"

The hatred in Severus's eyes did not diminish and he did not answer. The next words out of Dumbledore's mouth were: "Because you hurt only me, and the Dark Lord hurt him , is that right?"

Severus nodded in terror - that was the answer, just as he had thought it.

"Remarkable. And for Sirius's brother, no less? But Lord Voldemort must never know this. Severus, do you know what Occlumency is?"

"Of course I don't, don't you know what's on the syllabus in your own school?" Severus hissed at him.

"Forgive me. I will give you a book from my personal library. I must ask that you allow me to resume my role as your educator and order you to read it very carefully. Whatever you say, Headmaster," Dumbledore finished again, with words he had stolen out of Severus's unwilling mind.

After a brief pause, he continued: "I sensed, naturally, that you did not like me doing that. To stop me from doing that is why you need to train yourself in Occlumency. Such displays of emotion will not do. Do you understand?"

Severus, who thought he was being very restrained, nodded resentfully.

"Before I give you the book, I must ask you a few questions, while you are still incapable of lying to me. You are committed to Voldemort's defeat. You helped Lily get the Horcruxes. You will do anything to find and destroy them, even if this means working for me, following my orders, and trusting me - so long as they" - Dumbledore gestured at Regulus and Lily - "are safe."

You know I will, so don't make me say it.

Dumbledore nodded.

"There is another thing we must do to secure Mr. Black's protection. Regulus, look at me." Regulus focused.

"I regret what must be done," Dumbledore informed him flatly, and he barely finished his sentence before Regulus's left arm was severed and he started screaming.

"What the -" Lily shouted, and was petrified immediately, and Dumbledore looked at the marked arm on the floor curiously for a brief moment, and then back at Regulus. Severus noticed that the cut was very clean.

"Mr. Black, stop screaming," Dumbledore ordered. "Muggles won't take kindly to the Dark Mark, and there is no use in making you suffer any more than you already have. Do not think Lord Voldemort won't try to use the Mark to hurt you, or lure you. I myself don't know its limits. I can grow you another arm."

Regulus, whose chest was heaving with fast, shallow breaths, whimpered, and there were tears in his eyes.

"You will not come back here, or anywhere else that's magic. You will not try to find him. You will not use magic unless your life depends on it. You will listen to Lily. You will live among the Muggles until it's safe for you to return. If you promise me that, I will give you an arm."

In all the shaking and panting, Regulus's nod was easy to miss, but it was unmistakable. He was covered in cold sweat, and his robes stuck to his skin. Dumbledore worked for several long minutes, and a new arm grew out of the stump that had been spurting blood. Severus watched, astonished, as bone materialized, as nerves and blood vessels wove themselves into muscle and skin tissue that wrapped itself around the delicate bones. Dumbledore even made sure nails would grow there - even arm hair. Despite himself, Severus admired the spellwork. It was the same as the arm Severus knew so well, only its inside was unmarked.

For the first time, Severus was grateful. The Dark Lord won't be able to summon him, he won't be able to tempt or hurt him, not even for my protection.

Regulus, who in the span of a day and a half, had lied about the pain in his arm, walked toward death, had been whipped, cruciated and obliviated, woke up to knowing only that he was in love with Severus and that the Dark Lord wanted to kill him and his elf for reasons unknown, that he would have to hide among the swine with the mudblood, chose this moment to succumb to the pain and blood loss and pass out.

"Severus, my first order is that you vanish the blood and take the body bind off Lily. Restoring his memory and his arm has been very taxing, but I am optimistic that he will recover in full."

Severus obeyed without a word, and Dumbledore retired to his chambers, promising to return soon with the book he had mentioned earlier, and welcoming them to help themselves to his famous sherbet lemon. Lily did not move even after Severus had released her. It took her a few moments to admit it: She was scared. She had already lost James, had already heard Sirius being bitten behind the door. Dumbledore had used the gory tales of what Death Eaters had done to members of the Order to convince her to join - and now she had seen what he was willing to do himself. "I made you use an unforgivable, Sev -" she whispered in horror, "and now look what Dumbledore has done!"

"It was the right call, Lily," he told her. "He would have been there, still, if you hadn't told me to do it. You saved him - and what Dumbledore just did might be the first good thing he has ever done for me. Didn't we always argue about Dark magic?"

Lily could not argue with any of it. She put her head on Severus's shoulder and wondered if she could charm her heart into slowing down.

"You have to write a lot," she said after a while.

Severus did not say anything. He was not sure he would survive - but he was not sure how he had survived thus far. They looked at Regulus, who was still asleep.

"You know," Lily said suddenly, her tone quite different than it had been, "Walburga looks fantastic for a woman her age - isn't she in her fifties? And after two babies! I should be so lucky!"

This was so irrelevant it made Severus's head spin. "Maybe it's Dark magic," he suggested.

"Maybe Dark magic is alright then," she replied.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you all this time!"

She smiled for a second and then looked very solemn again. "But you'll be alright, right? You have to - I don't know what I'll do alone with him for so long, Sev!"

"It's only destroying the Dark Lord, how hard could it be?"

"Sev!"

"I'll be alright," he promised, not sure that it was within his gift to promise that.

"Good." Lily was resolute. "I nearly lost you once - I won't lose you again."

Severus knew Regulus and Lily were somewhere in Muggle London, Reg still not knowing how, why and wherefore. Though in the same city, they had never been further apart. Lily promised to exchange as many galleons as she could carry into pounds, in the hope that they would last for as long as it takes, and to send letters as often as she could, and to show Regulus how to use the post.

The book Dumbledore had given Severus explained so much, he found. As he read it, he realized he had been occluding all his life, without knowing he was doing it. When you started talking like Lucius so the others might accept you. When you forced yourself to live after what Sirius had done, to focus on something else so you could brush your teeth. At the Marking, looking from beside yourself - and of course, that's why Lord Voldemort did not see Regulus in your mind, of course he didn't see you try to kill yourself, he does not feel love, he cannot conceive of wanting to die. And now, possibly four more Horcruxes that I have to find, alone. And I'll have to face Voldemort again, alone.

Severus found that now that he knew what he had been doing was called, it was much harder to do it. Doing it deliberately was mind-destroying and soul-shattering - but he did it anyway, and he felt no fear. At most, he felt academic curiosity about the effects of various curses and potions on the occluded mind. If nothing else, this was new and interesting, even if it was terrifying. The book he had already committed to memory told him fear was useful, along with pain, since they were so primal they could be used to drive out anything else. Fear and pain? I can do that, he told himself. I will serve Dumbledore, and I will serve Voldemort, and I will destroy him, and we will be free, he vowed, and his fear subsided, and he was controlled.