Chapter 16: R.A.B
Regulus was in no way prepared for what hit him as he threaded his way home through downtown London. Sensory overload did not at all cover what he was experiencing. Smells were sharper, sounds seemed far louder even if they weren't, but even worse he heard everything! What once seemed to be a single sound now had layers! For instance, it seemed that Muggle motor cars made about fifteen sounds at once, all in the motor itself! Never mind the other nine or so sounds made by the tires rolling over minute bits of gravel, the parts of the car touching other parts as it moved and the Muggles inside of the things.
If the sounds weren't bad enough, he could hear everyone's thoughts even more clearly than the words they uttered aloud. So many people surrounded him thinking so many different sorts of thoughts. People could not constantly speak, but they could and did constantly think! They all had meaningless little lives for the most part and their thoughts were petty and small, which only served to make hearing them all even more annoying and obnoxiously distracting. Mind reading was a curse, and being aware of what people actually filled their heads with was depressing. How had the human race survived for so long? Now he would hear all of this madness forever! He hated Voldemort all the more for being the reason he'd done this to himself.
It was no wonder some young vampires went feral or mad, Regulus thought as he struggled to hold it together. As soon as this was done, he would dedicate his full attention to learning everything Dora had to teach him. With Kreacher there to help him focus, it would be far better and less overwhelming, he assured himself. At that thought, his mind turned to how he would explain his choice to become a vampire to his best friend. What would Kreacher think? Surely he would understand that it was necessary to keep them alive. He couldn't tell him yet, though. He didn't want Kreacher distracted with worrying over him when they had one last thing to accomplish before this could stop.
When at last he reached Grimmauld Place, Regulus rushed inside and directly up to his room. Reaching up to the top of his wardrobe he drew down a heavy oak chest covered in ornate runic carvings. A large silver Black family crest glittered from the center of the lid. Throwing back the lid, he rummaged around, pushing aside heavy antique bracelets and emerald cuff links. These were family heirlooms passed down to him on his sixteenth birthday, but he rarely had cause to wear them. At last he found what he wanted nestled in a black silk bag nearly at the bottom of the chest. It was an ornate locket sporting two large faceted green emeralds, one on the front and the other on the back. Even though the lamp that lit the room was dim, the stones caught the light and glittered as Regulus turned the heavy necklace in his hand. It was a piece of Black family history passed down through the generations for nearly five centuries. Though Regulus regretted what he had to do with it, the piece of jewelry hardly seemed more important than what had been done to Kreacher, or Bella and the Lestranges. It certainly wasn't more valuable than his father's life and Voldemort had to pay for taking that life. Sighing as he silently vowed to hold it together for just a little longer, Regulus slipped the Black family emerald locket into a pocket of his robe, then replaced the jewelry chest on top of the wardrobe. Moving to his desk he sat down and drew quill and parchment toward him. His hand shook slightly as he dipped the quill into the ink. Hopefully this act would make up for what Regulus had allowed to befall Kreacher. Hopefully the elf would see it that way. And his father...if Orion's spirit could still see him...
Closing his eyes, Regulus shuddered, once more struggling to hold it together. (Daddy, I am so very sorry! I love you. I miss you, and I will make him pay!) The words, silently spoken in Regulus's mind, would break him if he so much as allowed himself to whisper them aloud to the silent still room. He blinked hard, pushing back the tears that sprang to his eyes, for at present he could not allow himself to grieve. Not yet. Not until it was done. Taking a deep breath, Regulus began to write his one and only letter to Voldemort. He wanted the Dark Lord to know that he hadn't gotten away with nearly killing Kreacher, killing his father, and doing only the gods knew what to Bellatrix and the Lestranges. He wanted him to know that someone would bring him down. Regulus planned to make sure someone did so even if it wasn't him. He had lost enough and wouldn't risk Kreacher again or himself. Leaving Kreacher was hardly a way to apologize to the elf for anything. Once the letter was complete, Regulus chose to sign it with his initials alone. He did not wish to implicate his family by outright stating his name, but the Dark Lord would be able to make a very very educated guess, and if someone else found it, they would never know who had written it. With that done, Regulus performed a drying charm on the ink, then folded the parchment over and over until it was a small square that would fit into the locket. Withdrawing it from his pocket, he placed the letter inside, then hung the locket around his neck for safe keeping.
"Kreacher," he called and at once the elf apparated in front of him with a crack.
"Master Regulus! Kreacher was making dinner for the Mistress and did not hear him come in. She is quite worried, but she has not spoken to Kreacher about it. He can see it in her face, though, and she has been pacing about the manor quite a lot," he reported, a frown creasing his brow. Kreacher reached to embrace him and as always Regulus melted into the elf's arms, surrendering to his soft gliding touches. Drawing the elf close, Regulus sighed with contentment. "Gods you smell good," he murmured and Kreacher smiled against his shoulder.
"Kreacher was baking..."
"No...YOU smell good. Your natural scent," Regulus explained. Gods he could hear the blood pulsing just under Kreacher's skin. He could hear the way Kreacher's heart sped up when Regulus's lips traced a pattern from his pointed ear to his neck.
"The Mistress will see," Kreacher warned. Regulus noted the panic in the elf's voice warring with the desire in his eyes. Desire won, because when Regulus kissed him, Kreacher did not pull away. Regulus wished more than anything he could take the time to do more than kiss Kreacher, but they would have plenty of time for their pleasures once this was done.
"I want you to know that what I am about to do...it's for you...Because I love you so much, please know that, Kreacher. I love you more than anything."
Kreacher nodded, expression worried as his round blue gaze lifted to meet Regulus's own. Their eyes were almost the same shade of blue, Regulus noted, not for the first time. It was as if they were meant to be connected.
"What is Master Regulus going to do," Kreacher asked suspiciously.
"I need you to take me to that lake. I need for you to let me replace that locket with mine. His is a Horcrux. If not it is something very important to him and it needs to be destroyed."
"But," Kreacher began and Regulus laid a finger on his lips to silence him. He was distracted for a moment by how soft the elf's skin was. "Gods you are beautiful," he breathed, looking regretfully from Kreacher to his bed where he wished they both could be right now. His sense of touch was heightened to the extreme as well. Where Kreacher's skin once seemed like smooth satin, now it was intoxicating priceless silk begging to be touched. Clearly Regulus's comment was out of place considering, and Kreacher's worried frown deepened.
"I need to pay him back for you and Father and Bella and the Lestranges," Regulus said, returning to the topic at hand. "Please understand, Kreacher. Let me get this done, and then...we shall be free. We have to leave the country, I think, but we can be safe."
"But how," Kreacher asked.
"We must go now and get this done before Mother wants something. I will explain it all later, I promise," Regulus told the elf in a rush as he rose from his desk chair. He was suddenly gripped by a sense of urgency. This new vampirism was making him too distracted, and it was no good. He and Kreacher could explore it all later, but not now. "If she asks, don't tell her anything," he added, just in case his mother happened to interrupt them in the act of retrieving the locket. Kreacher could be called from anywhere by a member of the family, so if his mother called while they were at the lake, he would have to respond to the summons.
"If Master Regulus is certain," Kreacher said. He was obviously unhappy about it, but he took Regulus's hand and apparated them to the strangest place Regulus had ever seen. The black lake, the odd glowing green light that his vampiric sight could make out from the distant cave, it was all so wrong. Worse than strange, worse even than wrong. It felt evil. Regulus could sense Kreacher's thoughts as the elf worried for him, and bending he kissed his friend a final time before they climbed into the boat. "I promise, we will be free," he said. "I have a plan."
Kreacher nodded trustingly, then gestured and the boat began to move across the inky black water. Regulus felt dirty even breathing in the air of the place. He tried to focus on Kreacher so that his new vampiric senses would not give him more information than he could handle about this foulest of places. In spite of his efforts, Regulus couldn't help but notice the slow energy under the water's surface that had to be the Inferi Kreacher had spoken of. They did not have thoughts, but they had some semblance of life...non life? It was wrong...Very wrong, like some Muggle machine misfiring in the worst of ways on a constant low level. Reaching for Kreacher's hand, he laced his finger's through the elf's. The contact gave him comfort and strength. They rode across the lake in silence, the eerie green light growing somewhat brighter as they approached the cave.
"Master Regulus should allow Kreacher to drink the potion for him," Kreacher began as they climbed out of the boat. "It is truly dreadful and Kreacher does not wish for Master Regulus to suffer."
Regulus shook his head almost violently, so upsetting was the thought of Kreacher experiencing that again. "I shall drink it, and that is that," he told the elf firmly. "Call it atonement for my volunteering you into Voldemort's service and thus nearly getting you killed!"
Kreacher's face crumpled. "Kreacher already said that it wasn't Master Regulus's fault so he does not need to atone."
"I understand that, but I feel it is my fault, so please allow me to do this," Regulus said, withdrawing his wand from his sleeve and casting light into the cave. The light was about ten times weaker than it should've been so he cast the charm again, then sighed in frustration as he turned to Kreacher. "Can you make it brighter in here," Regulus asked, and Kreacher nodded. At once the place was so bright that it hurt Regulus's eyes, but as the elf wasn't squinting in pain, he assumed it was about his new vampirism. Apparently bright light posed a slight problem, even though it wasn't sun. While interesting, it was a point he would have to consider later along with so many others, including why wizard cast light hardly penetrated the darkness in this vile cave.