Turn Your Back on Them
"Is this it?"
"Yep. That's the one."
"Doesn't look like much…"
"None of them do. They're all the same like that. You excited?"
"Mm."
"First time's always a bit choppy, but they get better…. Should we leave?"
"No, I might stick around for a bit. Just observe them, you know?"
"Alright, take care then."
"Bye."
Regulus Black emerged from the thick green brush while Rodlphus Lestrange apparated from behind him. Regulus peered up at the house before him, the midday sun glaring into his pale grey eyes. He scanned the blackened whitewash walls; the deteriorating tiles on the roof, the peeling picket fence… They didn't know who lived there –they'd just been told to kill.
A woman struggled to put clothes on the line as the wind blew sourly. Some boys played soccer a short distance away, their grey socks rolled up to their knees as they manoeuvred the ball past each other; one boy sat alone on stone steps, looking on at the others longingly. In the grass, a rabbit hid desperately from a curious beagle, whose soft brown eyes took Regulus in momentarily as he made towards the lone boy.
"Why do you sit here, all alone?" he asked, raising the collar of his trench coat to shield himself from the cold air.
He watched the boy carefully as he spoke, listened hard to the carefree tone in his answer, as though it was only everyday that a complete stranger sat down on your doorstep and began talking to you.
"My brother won't play with me, he says I'm too young, but we're only four years apart."
Regulus' heart fluttered, a quick prick of déjà vous. It was like having a conversation with yourself –from here on in the rest was only too predictable. He inspected the boy's features, looking for any physical likeness between the two of them: the boy's nose was short and snub and splashed with freckles. He was gap-toothed and thin-lipped, his square face framed by copper curls –the pair could not have been more opposite.
"I know how you feel," Regulus chuckled wispily.
The boy turned and his blue eyes flashed.
"No you don't!" He growled, glaring.
Regulus' face took on an expression of amusement, which only made the boy narrow his eyes even further.
"What is your name, boy?" Asked Regulus. The boy crossed his arms and turned away.
"Michael," he replied huffily, then softened after a moment.
"…What's yours?"
"Regulus."
"What kind of name is that?"
"I beg your pardon, Muggle?" Regulus snapped.
"I mean, sorry, I-"
"It's Latin…It means 'little prince'." He snorted derisively.
"Oh…what's a Muggle?"
"Your kind." Said Regulus curtly.
"…Do you have a brother?"
"I…I did, yes." Regulus began to fumble with his coat fastenings, a habit his mother had always hounded him for.
Michael craned his neck to see Regulus' face, which was downcast.
"What happened to him?" He spoke softly.
"Well, he –he ran away and…and that's all. It was my fault really, I should have stood up for him, sided with him every once in a while. We use to be so close, he and I –he used to call me 'Rabbit' because of my initials- but then his friendstook him away from me," he hugged his knees subconsciously, resting his head upon them to let his eyes mist over.
He felt something pressing lightly on the small of his back, and knew it was Michael's hand. He wiped his nose hurriedly on his sleeve, straightening his back to let the hand fall off.
"I cry over my brother sometimes, too. He likes his friends more than me…Sometimes we shout at each other and sometimes he…he hits me. –But then he cries. So…I don't know. I think maybe I should run away, like your brother did."
Regulus furrowed his brow, remembering how it was between Sirius and he: it wasn't until he had got involved in what was assumed to be the 'wrong crowd' that he started seeing Sirius less and less…Regulus being the one in the wrong crowd. It was wrong for a reason, Regulus mused. This boy will die tonight. I'm going to kill him, him and his brother -whom neither Regulus nor Michael would ever really know.
He wasn't prepared for any of this. This lifestyle alone, the uncertainty… Regulus liked to know things, know what he was dealing with. He could be killing his own brother tomorrow. He certainly couldn't kill the person he had just met –he knew this boy, he was this boy several years ago. Regulus Black couldn't kill anyone, for that matter. No -he wouldn't be a part of it. Regulus was all for keeping wizarding blood pure, but this was ridiculous. It's a killing spree. That's what it is. It's like a sport now, in which we are the hunters and they are our game.
Regulus put his hands in his pockets in what Michael perceived to be an attempt for warmth until he pulled something out of them.
"Here," said Regulus, dangling a gold pocket watch from its chain.
Michael opened a grubby hand and Regulus let the watch fall onto his palm.
"It was a present from my brother. My gift to you.'So you'll always be on time, little Rabbit.'" He smiled broadly, letting go of any inhibitions the Dark Lord had placed upon him –Regulus knew he was doing something right for once.
Michael gazed at the pocket watch, entranced.
"Thankyou so much…I'll take good care of it, I swear!"
Regulus stood and ruffled the boy's hair. One of the boys playing soccer caught his eye and stopped. Regulus saw the same blue eyes as Michael's, and realised it was his brother. The boy gave a small nod at Michael, who gladly ran out to join him, leaving Regulus behind. The boy looked warily at Regulus, cold and unfriendly.
For good reason, thought Regulus sadly, as he made his back towards the brush. You and your family are finished –but I will take no part in your demise.
"Rosier, you will cast the Dark Mark," announced Rodolphus, pacing up and down between them, lined up, masked and waiting.
"You know the plan –do what you will, but act quickly –the Ministry will be on their way soon, no doubt. After then it's every man for himself."
"And woman," drawled Bellatrix, coiling herself around Rodolphus' body. Rodolphus smiled at her slyly.
"And Regulus –enjoy yourself." He called. There was no reply.
Young Michael awoke to the sounds of screams and the sight of skulls, all of them laughing and jeering. He jumped out of bed, snatched up his pocket watch and bolted for the door.
"Hey, Regulus! The little one, get the little one!" Rodolphus cackled. But no one answered.
His eyes darted across the room, keeping his wand upon the boy, backing him into the corner.
"Where is Regulus?" He called to Bellatrix.
"I don't know!" She screeched, too immersed in torturing the boy's mother.
Rodolphus grew anxious. There was no one left upstairs –everyone had been levitated down to the sitting room. He removed everyone's mask with a single flick of his wand, face twisted in his own mask of fury.
"WHERE IS REGULUS?"
He looked them all over, only to realise they were one Death Eater short.