By Clorinda
Rated: PG
Category: Drama
Summary: "R.A.B." stole the real Horcrux off Voldemort. But now that he has it in his hands, what will he do with it? One-shot.
A solitary candle lit his late father's old study, but like his flickering life force, it too was waning. His breathing was no longer as ragged as it was from running for survival, as it had been when he Apparated. It was shallow, gasping and desperate.
In the flimsy light, he glanced at the gold locket that he clutched in his scarred hand. He thought of Rabastan Lestrange, who lay sprawled on the floor of the cave, writhing and convulsing with a whole basinful of venomous poison. Was he dead by now? Had the Inferi dragged his twitching body into the depths of their horrible lake by now?
The door was pushed open with a low, wailing creak, and an orange glow lit the wooden doorframe. He felt too exhausted, too drained of energy and strength to move.
"Regulus?" a voice softly called into the darkness. "Are you in here?"
"'Cissa," he moaned incoherently. "'Cissa, I— 'Cissa, I got it..."
There came the sound of sharp footsteps striking the floor. Cissa Black set her lamp on the table, her pale face coming into the light. Her azure eyes shook slightly.
"Where's Lestrange?" she said urgently, her voice low. "Didn't he go with you?"
"Dead," he croaked. "Lestrange's dead by— Arrgh!"
She fumbled in the dark, grabbing his left wrist, and pushing back his sleeve. The Dark Mark burned an angry red. She reached for the wineglass on the table, and poured some of its contents on the bare skin.
He gave a horrible shriek, but then the pain faded away. It was a source of temporary comfort, and bewitched to numb his muscles and arm.
"Get me some parchment and ink," he ordered urgently. "I need to write something before the Dark Lord realizes my betrayal and sends his men to kill me."
She obeyed immediately. He thrust the gold locket into her hand, and closed her fingers over it. She stared at it with unreadable eyes.
"Slytherin's," he rasped, as his shaking hands gripped his quill. It was getting increasingly hard to breathe evenly, to move his left arm. The potion was wearing thin, and his skin burning freely, but his arm wouldn't move.
After-effects, he supposed.
"It's His Horcrux, by the way," he added.
He struggled to write, and his hand moved across the scrap of a note in a hasty scribble
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
Regulus Adolphus Black reached out, and tore a small locket away from where it hung around her throat. He forced it open, and emptied its contents.
He barely noticed as a miniature picture of his older brother fell to the floor. Nor did he see her swiftly bend and scoop it off the floor.
Cramming his own note into her locket, and snapping it shut, he shoved it into the beak of his owl. "Go..."
He tried to get out of the chair he had collapsed into, tried to reach out for the wineglass, wanted to wipe away the beads of cold sweat that streamed down the side of his own face.
Narcissa gripped his shoulder tightly. The tip of her wand pressed hard against the base of his neck. "Good night, Regulus," she whispered, snuffing out the candle he'd compared to his life.
—- End -—
Author's Note: The title is the alternative meaning to the pun in Hickory dickory dock; A mouse ran up the clock; The clock struck one...
Also, the OP states Rabastan Lestrange was sent to Azkaban with his brother and his sister-in-law for the torture of the Longbottoms, so do with him as you please— I put forward no objection.