AN: The story is approaching the final climax, and I'm going to switch to once weekly updates (on the weekends) until it's finished. I've been having a really hard time making time to write in the chaos of my life presently. I promise you I am still writing and will get it finished. I just need a little more ease in that. I have another 5 chapters written already, and the rest are outlined, so they will make their way to you, never fear :)
Also, I really love the Hermione/Regulus interplay of this chapter, folks; I hope you do too!
TW: Mention of minor character deaths.
On June 24, while Regulus' parents were away at some archaic High Society festival they attended every year, Regulus summoned Kreacher.
The elf appeared immediately, his eyes wide, and his ears perkier than Hermione had ever seen them. "Master Regulus!" he shrieked, then threw himself forward to hug Regulus around the knees. "You isn't dead!"
Regulus awkwardly patted the elf on the back. "Not as such, Kreacher, no. But it must stay a secret—"
Kreacher wrenched back, his expression aghast, and then immediately filled with reprimand. "Master Regulus, Mistress is beside herself! You mustn't be breaking your mother's heart like this, sir! Kreacher must tell—"
Hermione grinned.
"Enough, Kreacher," Regulus said firmly. "My mother will be fine. She mustn't know. Not until it's safe."
Kreacher sputtered to a stop. "Safe, Master Regulus?"
"If mother were to know I'm alive, she would be in terrible danger, Kreacher. Do you understand? We must keep this secret. For her."
Slowly, Kreacher nodded. His eyes wide and confused. "Of… of course, Master. We will keep the Mistress safe."
Regulus nodded his approval. "Very good, Kreacher. Understand that this is an order. You will keep this secret. From everyone."
Kreacher kept nodding. Hermione and Albus stayed silent. It was time to ask Kreacher to take them to the cave. Her heart pounded. She wasn't sure Regulus would order it… and while she knew it wouldn't be right to, was relieved that Regulus wasn't the sort who would do it, she was also terrified that Kreacher would refuse and their planning would come to nothing.
"Kreacher, tell me, can you travel with three people?"
At this, Kreacher glanced, startled, around the room. "You mean the Mud-" he caught himself. "The Muggleborn, and the blood traitor Headmaster?" he asked, still bewildered. "What business has Master Regulus with such people?" Hermione was very glad they'd set Lily and James on "distract Sirius duty." She suspected Kreacher would be much more offensive if he weren't so dazed.
Regulus frowned. "Can you do it, Kreacher?"
The elf suddenly pulled himself together. "Kreacher can do anything Master Regulus requires, sir," he said, puffing up his chest.
Regulus allowed a small flicker of a smile before kneeling before Kreacher, his face returning to seriousness. "Kreacher," he said, a trickle of his pureblood force slipping into his voice, "Will you take us to the cave?"
A shriek of terror erupted from Kreacher's throat. "The cave, sir!" he said shrilly. "Surely Master doesn't mean the Dark Lord's cave!"
Regulus nodded gravely, his expression not shifting, not making space for emotion. Merely waiting.
Kreacher's gaze darted wildly around the room, as if searching for an escape—or perhaps for Tom himself. "For… for His business, Master?"
"No, Kreacher. This business is my own. You needn't drink anything. I only require that you take us into the cave, remain while we conduct our business, and then return us here when we are through." Formal. Firm.
Hermione's forced her own gaze to remain steady and calm, even as her palms grew sweaty. He was going to say no. It'd be mad to agree to go back to such a—
"If Master is going into the… the cave, sir, Kreacher will not leave him there alone, with only filth to keep him safe!" the elf squeaked, forcing the words out before his better sense could clamp down on them. "Kreacher is loyal to the House of Black, sir! And Kreacher will protect its heir!" A fire crept into his voice. "Kreacher will protect Master Regulus from the dead things in the water sir! Kreacher will keep Master Regulus safe!"
The tragedy of the moment hit Hermione so hard she had to blink back tears. Because, of course, in the original timeline, this very moment had happened. But Kreacher had returned alone. Suddenly every interaction she'd ever had with the pitiful elf in the future came into new focus, and her heart filled her throat.
Albus stepped quietly closer and set his long, pale hand on her shoulder, surprisingly strong, surprisingly comforting. Hermione glanced up at her leader, his own eyes sparkling with unshed tears—and pride. Pride in her.
Hermione shook off the melancholy. She had changed this moment as she had changed so many others. Kreacher wouldn't know that heartache. Because of her. She let the warmth of that, the power of it, fill her instead.
"Ready?" Regulus asked them both, tying up the conversation with Kreacher.
"Ready."
The cave was still. Eerily silent. The water didn't shift or ripple, the air didn't shiver around them as they appeared, Kreacher's pop louder than ever as his magic groaned with the strain of his three passengers. They all froze as they appeared on the island in the center of the lake, the chill of the rock beneath them seeping through the bottoms of Hermione's sneakers. Nothing moved in the water around them, and a fraction of the tension eased from their shoulders. But it was dark. So dark.
Albus drifted forward to inspect the basin, his face already alight with curiosity, turned sickly in the green haze emanating from the potion.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Regulus said simply, before drifting over to the basin as well, his gaze going immediately to the silver locket at the bottom.
"Kreacher," Hermione said tentatively, "can you sense the wardings around the cave?" House elf magic was strange. Dobby's apparition into and out of Harry's home hadn't triggered the Trace. Only the levitation charm. They should be safe either way and had prepared for the possibility of being unable to use magic… but were hoping the warding would work against Tom by shielding them.
The house elf sneered at her, and opened his mouth, some nasty retort on his lips.
"Answer her," Regulus said simply.
Kreacher scowled deeply, and Hermione had to work hard not to roll her eyes. "Yes, Kreacher can sense the magics here," he replied sullenly.
"The Trace is on us," Hermione said. "Will it be able to see what we do in here?"
Kreacher's scowl deepened. "Kreacher does not know. The wardings are strange. Old and new. Kreacher thinks that this place exists… and does not." He shivered slightly.
Regulus turned to him, an eyebrow raised. "What does that mean?"
Kreacher shrugged. "Kreacher does not know, Master Regulus. Only that this place is like being trapped inside a glass box. Nothing in and nothing out. This place… it is not meaning to be found."
Regulus and Albus both nodded thoughtfully.
"I think it's worth the risk," Albus said slowly. "Be on your guard while I examine the potion, Hermione. Mr. Black, if you will join me?"
Together the two men tested and prodded at the potion, searching for a work around, but Hermione already knew Tom Riddle well enough—they all did—to know that the potion would have to be drunk. Hermione stood still, alert, listening for any indication that the trace had been triggered. If it was, they couldn't get in. She remained tense. If they couldn't get in, they would alert Tom. If Tom came… he would know.
She watched silently beside Kreacher as Albus drew his wand and conjured a goblet… just as Regulus pulled a goblet of his own from a pocket in his robes and immediately plunged it into the basin.
Before anyone had time to react, the brimming goblet was against Regulus' lips. He drank deeply even as Hermione jerked forward, and Albus looked on helplessly.
"You idiot," Hermione hissed, as Kreacher bounced up and down behind her, an incoherent flow of terror-fueled mutters slipping through his lips. She pulled the goblet from Regulus' hand, but it was too late. She already knew that. "We discussed this! We agreed that Albus would do this. He's the oldest and the strongest of us. We agreed!"
Regulus offered her a slight quirk of his lips. "Slytherin," he said, pointing to himself and tugging the goblet away.
"Don't you dare try to convince me the hat didn't want to put you in Gryffindor, you— you—"
Regulus smirk didn't fade. "Hermione Belanger, speechless. A rare and delicious sight." He plunged the goblet back into the potion and drank it down as Hermione spluttered uselessly.
"Incarcerous," she breathed. Ropes wrapped around Regulus' body. Ropes that had been intended for Albus. Albus, who was supposed to drink this potion. Albus who was meant to be restrained from reaching for the water.
Albus conjured a second goblet and dipped in into the potion. Slowly he raised it to his lips, but it wouldn't go. Only Regulus could drink it now.
"Order him," she said dully, doing her best to push back her fear. Albus was here. She was here. Regulus wasn't going to die. "Order Kreacher."
Regulus nodded steadily, but Hermione could see the way his pupils were already dilating, could see the sheen of sweat slicking his forehead, could see the tremble of fear reaching into his fingers. She reached out and gripped his hand. He laced their fingers together, gripping just as tightly. "Kreacher, you will not help me unless inferi breach the water. You will stay and you will watch, and you will take us to Hermione's home when—"
"The Hospital Wing at Hogwarts," Hermione interjected quickly.
Regulus nodded. "Yes, alright. Not Hermione's home, Kreacher. You will take us to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts when this is over. Is that understood?"
The trembling elf let out a horrendous wail and nodded, his ears flopping to and fro with the fury of the motion.
Hermione turned back to Regulus. "I've got you," she whispered, then took the goblet from his free hand and passed it to Albus, who gravely refilled it, and pressed it to Regulus' lips.
Regulus choked back half the goblet and then jerked in a massive spasm of fear. "No," he murmured. "No more. I'll do anything, just… no more."
Hermione and Albus exchanged a horrified glance.
"Regulus? Regulus are you alright?"
"Please, Mother, please. He's your son."
Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes and she blinked them furiously away. This is a mission. I am a soldier. A Lioness. And I will be strong. "Regulus," she said, her voice steady. "Regulus, you must keep drinking."
He blinked furiously, looking confused and dazed. Like he couldn't make sense of what was real and what wasn't. It reminded Hermione of her flashbacks. What the bloody hell was this potion?
"Hermione?"
"Drink, Reg."
He nodded weakly and drained the rest of the goblet. Another. And another.
"Lucius, how could you? Lucius, that's Hermione. Lucius, no. Bella will-"
"Reg," Hermione crooned, a constant wheedling, a lullaby of meaningless nonsense. "Reg it's okay. It'll be okay. I'm right here." But he was beyond her reach now. He couldn't hear her. Not really.
Albus looked down at her, compassion and pain in his eyes. "We will have to force him to finish, Hermione. He can't hear you. He's not here any longer."
Hermione's eyes fluttered shut and she nodded. "I know."
So they did. They forced another goblet full down. And then another.
Suddenly, Regulus gripped Hermione's arm tightly. "Hermione?"
"Reg?"
"Make it stop, Hermione. Please. No more. I'm so thirsty. I'm so—"
Albus forced more potion down Regulus' throat even as Regulus tried to claw his way toward the lake. "Thirsty," he choked between gasping gulps of potion. "So… thirsty." Gulp. "Please, Hermione." Sputter. "I can't."
Hermione drew her arm away from him. "I brought water, Reg. Remember? It's okay. Just a second."
She pulled a Muggle water bottle from her bag, tugged the mouth of it open and held it to Regulus' lips. He drank deeply, but seemed to get no real relief.
"One last gobletful," Albus offered. "Just one more, Mr. Black, and I'll be able to pull the locket from the basin. Last one."
Hermione gripped Regulus' hand like it was her lifeline, not his, as he choked against the final dose of potion. Somehow, despite being bound, he managed to flail so strongly against the goblet that it flew from Albus' hand. Albus' wand was immediately in his hand, summoning the goblet - but too late.
Hermione watched in horror as a ripple rushed out from where the cup had briefly brushed against the surface of the lake. Kreacher wailed so loudly it reverberated through the cavern, echoes bouncing off one another in an eerie staccato of fear and despair.
Hermione jerked her hand from Regulus'. "Kreacher, come take his hand," she barked.
"Keep him safe." The water began to roil, dark shadows moving beneath its broken surface, barely visible phantoms in the pervasive darkness of the cavern. Her heart pounded. There were hundreds. Hundreds of inferi in the lake.
She schooled her mind before horror could take over. She hadn't been in a fight since Diagon Alley. She hadn't had to ease into the rush of fear and the thrill of adrenaline. Her hand shook as she raised her wand, directing it toward the water, and preparing herself to summon flame. Only seconds had passed, but her impatient, fear-drenched mind stretched it longer. So much longer. Each pounding of her heart screaming for them to get the hell out of there. To get Regulus, defenceless at her feet, the hell out of there.
Behind her, Albus plunged the goblet back into the eerie potion and scooped a final cup of swill from the basin. Before her, rotting flesh reached up from the lake, grasping towards her. Regulus groaned and whimpered against the rock of the island, his fingers wrapped tightly in Kreacher's.
"INCENDIO!" Hermione screamed. Her spell flashed through the air, crashed into a rising inferius. It fell back into the water, immediately smothering the fire, then surfaced again, a hundred others rising with it. Hermione fought back a scream.
"The replacement locket, please, Hermione," Albus said calmly.
Incendio. Incendio. Incendio. Again and again she fired the spell as she searched her pockets for the fake locket. It's gone. Her spellfire faltered as panic took her. She frantically rifled through her pockets until finally, finally, she found it. She flung it into Albus' hands and resumed her mostly ineffectual casting.
"Mudblood!" Kreacher shrieked. "Kreacher cannot stop them!"
Hermione whirled toward Regulus, her eyes widening in horror as inferi reached from the lake. Their hands rotting and sickly, pulling him, pulling him into the depths. Kreacher immediately began hitting his head against the rock, punishment for saying "Mudblood" in front of Regulus.
Hermione dove forward, her wand working like a sword, slicing desperately through soft, rotten flesh, severing hands and arms. With savage ferocity she beat them back into the water, slicing and slashing and forcing them back with fire.
Battle rage left her senseless. Only seconds had passed, but it felt like longer. Felt like less. Feelings became irrelevant as she gasped for breath at the edge of the water. Albus dropped the replacement locket, now identical to Slytherin's, into the basin, and immediately released the sense of peace that emanated around him. Angry focus consumed his mien as he straightened and faced out toward the water.
Hermione could feel him summon his power, watched in awe as fire roared and raged from his wand. Not fiendfyre. Something better. Something more powerful, more controlled. The tremendous power rushed out around them, a halo of divine rage against the sin of necromancy. Its blasting heat sizzled through inferi flesh, and the noxious smell filled Hermione's nostrils, worse than anything she'd ever smelled before. Her stomach roiled as she dove for Regulus, thrusting her hand out toward the Headmaster, who grasped back tightly.
"Kreacher, get us out of here!"
Kreacher, apparently too terrified for slurs, or even any words at all, didn't need asking twice. With a pop! they left the horrors of the cavern behind. They materialized in the Hospital Wing, and Hermione immediately felt some of the horror and fear ease away as Poppy bustled in, her eyes wide with surprise, but her no-nonsense stride in place.
A sly grin slipped onto Hermione's face as Alastor followed Poppy out of the office, his wand drawn and his face fierce and protective.
He stopped abruptly upon seeing Hermione, and flushed. A laugh bubbled up in Hermione's chest, easing the last of the fear away, and escaped through her lips as she remembered all the joy there was in this world. There wasn't just fear and pain. There wasn't only fighting and winning, fighting and losing. There wasn't only healing and struggling. There was also this. There was Alastor and Poppy secretly stealing moments together. There was a battle-hardened warrior blushing in a doorway. There was Lily's pleasure every time Albus called her "Mrs. Potter." There was good. There was good. There was good.
Albus smiled kindly down at her as he helped her to her feet, forcing her to relinquish her grasp on Regulus so that Poppy could levitate him to a bed.
"Finite," Hermione breathed, undoing the bindings that had kept Regulus still on the rocks.
Poppy said nothing. She had seen Regulus here with Hermione at Easter. But Alastor frowned. "I heard the other Black brother was dead."
"Greatly exaggerated," Regulus forced out as Poppy began fluttering around him, casting diagnostic charms.
"You'll find him in the same condition as Kreacher here was last year, Poppy," Albus said.
Poppy's eyes widened, her gaze flicking from elf to wizard to wizard and then to Hermione. She didn't ask any questions. Only tutted and returned to her work.
"Albus, what's going on?" Alastor asked, his voice low, and straining for patience. "And why do you all reek to high hell?"
Albus and Hermione exchanged a glance, then Hermione shrugged and crossed the room to take up vigil at Regulus' side, leaving Albus to decide which secrets to keep, and in what ways. There, as Regulus slept, she penned a quick owl home to let them know they were okay, and then she dropped her head onto the bed beside him and fell asleep herself.
Her dreams were not peaceful. In them, the dead rose from the water, this time not the corpses of nameless muggles, but of her friends, her family. Her mother and father rose first, their faces not the blank obedience of inferi, but full of accusation and vengeance. Hermione raised her wand, tears streaking down her face, apologies on her lips, promises. "I'll save you," she sobbed, "this is the only way!" She burned them to ashes only to see Tracey behind them, a baby clutched against her chest, both dead. Their eyes blank, but their faces contorted in anguish. She burned them too.
Harry and Ron, clutching each other, looking lost and afraid. Remus, holding Hope, frail and quivering in his arms. Sirius, James, Lily, baby Harry. Mel. Molly. Fred and George. Emmeline. Gideon and Fabian. Alastor. Albus. Regulus. Narcissa. Severus. Lucius. They kept coming and coming, and she burned them all. Over and over. Her sobs wracking her body, choking out her spells.
And then Bella emerged. Not dead. Alive. Alive and victorious. Hermione shot spell after spell at her, fear lending her speed, but filling her mind. Nothing could touch Bella, who cackled, and slowly, teasingly, pressed her finger to her Dark Mark. The beat of silence that followed was filled with pain as Bella's favourite curses fell upon her like a tidal wave. Cresting and easing and cresting again.
And then the icy cold of the cavern doubled, tripled, and Voldemort appeared, his face snake-like and frozen in fury. His eyes glittered with malice, and a cruel smile slit his face. "Miss Belanger," he hissed, his voice a dangerous caress. She scrambled back to her feet. Her entire body trembling, her blood pooling against the rock. "I've been looking for you." His raised his wand. A flash of green flew toward her, but she couldn't move, her feet were frozen to the floor—
She gasped herself awake, eyes flying open in the darkness of the Hospital Wing. She was no longer seated in a chair, but instead had been shifted to a nearby bed, and she sat up, pushed herself from the pillows as though afraid they might reclaim her, and drag her back into the depths of sleep. Her heart still pounded with fear, adrenaline pumping through her body, ready for the fight.
She wiped away the tears that clung to her lashes and dropped her forehead to her knees. Slow, deep breaths.
A warm hand brushed against her lower back. A featherlight touch. She jerked and jumped away before realizing it was only Regulus, and immediately regretting the movement.
But he didn't move away as he once might have; instead he stepped closer, replacing his hand, letting its warmth ground her. They both knew too much of fear.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
He smirked, a reflex, then caught the falseness of it and paused, considering. A haunted look fluttered through his eyes, then back out. He nodded slowly. "The potion was… awful," he admitted. "But not even a potion made by the Dark Lord himself can compare to the horrors of serving at his feet."
Hermione reached out and grabbed his free hand, tentatively lacing their fingers together. I'm sorry, the gesture said. I forgive you, it told him. I'm here with you, it promised.
He gently squeezed her hand. Not recoiling from the unspoken sentiments, but accepting them. Perhaps finally beginning to believe he might deserve them.
Hermione's gaze flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes, where she was immediately trapped. A tiny part of her shouted to look somewhere—anywhere—else. But the rest of her couldn't look away. Not for the first time, she noticed the flecks of gold amongst the wash of steely grey. She yearned to tease him about these tiny shards of his Gryffindor nature slipping through, but couldn't. Couldn't tell him how his eyes drew her in. How often she caught herself lost in their depths.
Sometimes she caught him looking back. But not tonight. Tonight his thoughts were far away, his gaze trained on some moment in the past, not on her. He blinked, and was suddenly back, and the spell was broken. "Did you want to talk about it?" he asked.
Hermione scrambled for answer. Was he talking about her staring at him? Had they been talking about something else?
He smiled tiredly at the confusion on her face. "Your dream. Did you want to talk about it?"
Oh, right. Hermione shrugged. "The usual. Death. Pain. Our good friend, Tom." She paused. Shrugged again. "Did you want to talk? About the cave?"
That haunted look ghosted through his eyes again and he shook his head. "Just the usual for me too."
She turned to make space for him beside her, and he pulled himself up onto the bed. "We're sort of a mess you know," Hermione said with a smile. A smile that didn't say 'this is happy and good' but instead a smile that said, 'I'm glad we're not alone,' and 'I'm glad we have each other,' and 'I'm glad I have you here to understand me.' He offered the same smile in return, their fingers still laced together.
They were still sitting that way, their voices a quiet murmur in the empty silence of the Hospital Wing, an hour or so later when Albus and Minerva came sweeping in.
Hermione jerked straighter. She didn't pull her hand from Regulus', and she could feel his surprise, quirking her lips into the barest flicker of a smile. "What's happened?" she asked.
"We've just had word from Alastor," Albus said gravely. "Four members of the Order have been murdered in the last twenty-four hours."
Hermione's mind reeled. "Who?"
"Perkins and Brown. And the Meadowes sisters."
Hermione had seen Perkins and Brown once or twice, but they were ministry spies more than true members. She didn't know them well. Grace and Felicity though… She pushed back the ache. "How?"
Minerva shook her head sadly. "We don't know. They all had their wands holstered, so it can't have been the Trace, and they were minor players. Unlikely to come under suspicion there anyway. Perkins and Brown were found together in an alley outside the Leaky Cauldron. The Meadowes, also together, here in Hogsmeade."
"Could they have been followed after a mission?" Regulus asked.
Albus shook his head. "None of them have been on missions in quite some time."
"We've called an emergency Order meeting. Everyone's flying into headquarters as we speak."
Regulus nodded slowly. "Either the Dark Lord is getting lucky, or they've found some new way to track the Order." His gaze fixed on Albus'. "Let me come."
Hermione's eyes widened, probably comically, as she jerked her attention back to the boy at her side. Her hand tightened on his, as if she could hold him tightly enough to get him to change his mind. "Now?" she said. "You want to come out of hiding now? When Death Eaters are suddenly tracking us down? When you're less safe than you were a week ago?"
Regulus smiled faintly, but his eyes were dark and serious. "Hermione," he said gently. "It's time."
And she realized, suddenly, everything falling into place, that there was no way he was going to be allowed to go on a mission—to get out of that house and feel powerful again—and somehow be content to return to hiding.
And she realized, at the same time, that she only understood this because she felt the exact same way. She deflated.
He didn't smirk. Only squeezed her hand in solidarity.
She looked back to Albus and Minerva. "Let's do it then."