Rereading Kreacher's Tale recently, I couldn't get out of my head how different Regulus's school life would be if All in the Family hadn't happened and so sat down to write this out of order. Still working out the kinks of publishing sixth and seventh year, promise, but here's an offshoot of Regulus that fits into my prequel universe We Were.
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His lungs were starting to burn, he'd been able to count up to eighty before he lost his place and was now clutching the last of the air in his lips from sheer force of will, his hair floating around his face like ghostly seaweed as he forced his eyes to remain open-
THUD, THUD, THUD,
Surface tension broke along his nose as he inhaled too fast, he sat up from the tub coughing in frustration more than anything for the suds and water that had flooded his mouth as his black locks now clung unpleasantly to his face.
"Regulus!" His mother's dulcet tones sounded sharper than usual through the heavy door, like she was talking to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "I sent Kreacher up here to fetch you fifteen minutes ago! Bellatrix will be here within the hour and you are to be presentable!" He fought the urge to grab a towel and cover himself for her impatience.
"Yes mam," he promised firmly as he smoothed his hair away perfectly, it fell slick and clean over his shoulders like silk now. Grasping the edge of the porcelain tub, he made an extra few sloshing noises with his feet to be sure she heard him moving himself out.
Water dripped from him in rivers of warmth, cold quickly sapping their place as he watched in frustration where they melded into the smooth, cold, black tile floors and vanished. Grabbing his wand off the sink, a wave of it vanished the last of his luxury for the day, only a few spare droplets spattering the tail of a silver serpent support to the porcelain bathtub left a trace of his leisure, and he used his fluffy black towel to hastily wipe those up before drying himself off.
His clothes sat neatly pressed and waiting on the counter where Kreacher had left them and he slid each article on, finding a different worry with each.
This is why Sirius had run away, he dared not acknowledge this flash of understanding to anybody except his house-elf, who had only nodded and asked him if he'd like the story told. Regulus had firmly told him no, as curt as he'd ever been to his lone source of chat in this house. His black trousers slid up the smooth skin of his legs and were secured with a buckle leaching more warmth from him in the cold, heavy material.
This is what his parents wanted, he assured himself as he slowly, carefully began buttoning up his shirt, rolling up the sleeves to the elbows as Bellatrix had specifically requested in her forwarded letter. It was his favorite one, the gossamer silver was woven from pure acromantula extract to be as light and durable as was possible. They knew what they were doing, what side of the war would win, and he was going to help. Sirius would understand, he'd come back...
This is where we're all destined to be, the clasp of his black cloak slid easily into place and settled around him like a mock hug, the closest he'd ever come to one. He'd watched children in halls pass them out so frivolously amongst their friends, wrapping their arms around each other just because they'd been absent from the other for a missed class. Innocent, ignorant, their greatest woes being homework. They'd understand, they all would when a better life was had not having to hide out at Hogwarts, the great blood of wizardkind would envelop the world.
This is what I want, he reminded himself as he smiled when he slipped his green patterned socks on, the fleece ones that Kreacher had somehow kept a warming charm on this whole time and now finally gave him a chance to exhale and eagerly reach for his boots. Everything would work out.
He carefully combed his hair and used a thick gel to make sure none of it curled up improperly before assessing himself one last time in the full-length mirror. The not-quite-boiling hot water had left his skin flushed and alive, but he still thought he looked a little pale under his dark hair. It wasn't until the slight indent in his jaw relaxed as he released the inside of his cheek from biting down on it did he finally look presentable and opened the door. "Happy birthday Sirius," he whispered to himself as he stepped onto the landing and checked his zipper.
The front door was opening below, Bellatrix's voice wafting upstairs along with the cold November air that clung like frost to his still-damp hair. He exhaled forcefully to make sure he wasn't stupidly trying to overthink this and descended right on time as she hung up her coat.
RAB
He unconsciously released his cheek he hadn't realized he'd been biting down on and sighed with relief at the news.
Bellatrix gave him a little frown and he quickly scrambled to hide such a thing by saying, "then I'll just have to work for such an esteemed meeting." She nodded just enough her dark hair swirled around her face and continued escorting him inside.
Of course the Dark Lord wasn't going to be there just for initiation, he scolded himself. The relief was there though, he followed his cousin with a palpable lighter step up the grand staircase through the odd building, hands clasped behind his back and matching her up every carpeted step.
It sort of resembled an abandoned junk shop, with odd little trinkets and baubles on random surfaces, but was clearly once somebody's home, with many a chaise lounge chair and even a few food platters set about.
Regulus toyed with weather to ask what exactly this place was, to be an initiation into the Death Eater's. Mother and Father were always so finicky about what questions were and weren't allowed, he'd always learned best about when he should and shouldn't speak up by watching Sirius's many screw-ups, but he wasn't around to be the example anymore. He hadn't been in two very long years now.
Bellatrix herself had always been a wild card, rarely asking after him at all, but lavishing him with attention whenever she came around. At least the wedding ring glinting on her finger promised this wasn't some proposal being sprung on him as opposed to an elaborate setup for what he'd really been promised.
"Bella," he ventured with a very carefully neutral tone just as father had taught him, lilting, carrying, a firm expectation to be answered, but with that air of politeness respecting his superior here.
The long lashes of her hooded eyes met his with a surprised, but not discouraging flutter as she waited for him to continue.
"This isn't his place of residence, correct?" Where exactly the Dark Lord called home, if indeed he even relegated himself to such a mundane idea as being tied to simply one establishment, but he was confident of this fact and instead fished for specifics.
Bellatrix gave a minute nod of approval and a slight sneer for the obvious all at once, one never was sure if she was going to mock you or praise you until after it had happened. "No Regulus," they'd continued the very long ascent without pause, past floors and floors of residences, though he never heard a whisper of noise behind any door or landing. "This house used to belong to an old woman whose services the Dark Lord no longer required. Smith, or something, it's really not important. All you need to know is not to go parroting this place around any more than what happens inside."
"Understood," he assured as he followed in her wake.
She stopped on the last stair though and looked down at him, her haughty features always seemed to have been the best imposed on her of any of the Black's. The intricate beauty that came from their pureblood lineage carving sharp bones and soft features all at once, while her eyes held a liquid insanity to their quality, ready to spill over any moment and release her true self to the world that only a hint of it was ever exposed in her soft, pandering voice. "Do you Reg?"
It took the past sixteen years of his practiced schooled features not to flinch at the nickname only Sirius had ever called him. She narrowed her eyes unpleasantly and he thought he hadn't quite managed it. "Do you understand what's happening here? Uncle Orion assured me you weren't going to cowardly desert us as well, but this isn't some game like your little Quidditch match, child. This is a commitment. This is your life now."
He tasted blood in his mouth and licked nervously at the inside of his cheek, and then released his clasped hands from his back, and instead let them rest easily on his hips, with better access to his wand, his cloak barely fluttered at the change of position, but he knew she saw. Imposing, fighting back, but not drawing it, just setting his stance. "I am joining the Death Eater's," he met her cold icy blue eyes that were bright as a meteor. "I am serving the Dark Lord," he did not stutter, he never had, not even while learning his alphabets, Sirius used to secretly practice with him to be ready to demonstrate to their parents. "I am going to make my parents proud," he corrected the flighty memory and emphasized what his cousin was challenging, "as the Black heir."
Bellatrix nodded again, her long curly hair flowed in a feminine way down her back, bouncing around her ears, delicate, heavy strands that naturally twined together across her forehead and never dared tangle in the long mane. "That's correct Regulus, this is a privilege, you are to know that when stepping in here. What you're being gifted today is a mark many have spent years dreaming of, and you're receiving one now is not to be taken lightly. You will prove yourself, this is a promise of our rewards to come, but you will still have to earn its place. Today is the start, and you've a long path to go to win. Our blood is pure, our loyalty unquestioned, the Dark Lord knows this, and we are rewarded."
"Toujours Pur," he quoted back all that was needed.
His cousin clasped her hand on his shoulder, what should have been a friendly gesture, if her nails didn't dig in trying to pinch, possibly even needle down to flesh if it weren't for his shirt. She smiled, her lips a venomous shade of red. Sirius had started wearing something red on his fingernails this year, why were reasons beyond anyone-
She whirled away, gracefully on her toes, her hair swatting him in the face like a brand as she strolled across the landing to the lone door.
It opened into a long, low ceilinged room that had little stools and tea sets in all four corners, and a wide, oblong table in the middle with a dozen chairs all around it. Only four were currently occupied.
The first person he recognized made his heart still in shock. It was Jameson Wilkes, a fellow Slytherin who had been absent for his sixth year. One of the students who'd been giving him tasks all last year regarding all sorts of odd things about the castle, including following students without being noticed and smuggling things into classrooms without their teachers ever spotting what the object was. He'd always wondered who the odd tests, he'd soon realized, were being reported to, and now he had his answer as the teenager took to his feet first, offering him a hand in greeting.
His eyes were oddly purple, his hair honey blond with an inviting smile and quick to grasp Regulus's hand and shake it warmly as if they hadn't spent time just last semester whispering in the common room about canoodling couples who should be banished from their presence, and then promptly Avery and Mulciber would get up and do it with less than pleasant means.
"I'm not surprised at all to see you," Wilkes gave a cheeky wink like Slughorn was about to come over and clap the two on the back after he'd snuck into his party last year. "You were the most promising of those still loitering around school."
Regulus had nothing to say to that, he didn't think he'd done anything more impressive than Snape or Lee, but then, the Black name may have given him more weight than whatever menial tasks they'd been dolled out to do, just as it always should.
Wilkes put his hand jovially across his shoulders and steered him to where the other three were still seated, all closer to his parent's age, introducing him promptly to a man who passed a vague resemblance to a boy in his year, Barnaby Lee actually. "This is Lee," a fat, balding man with white-blonde hair and an unpleasantly oily appearance more than Wilkes, "Snyde," the only other woman at the table whom Bellatrix sat herself beside; she had flaming red hair and managed to look down her nose at him even while sitting down, "and Pyrites."
Wilkes had certainly saved the best for last, the dandy man had such defining features Regulus wouldn't be surprised to find him on a very close branch to his own tree with his thick black hair parted carefully to one side and angular jaw. He wore a fanciful cloak laced with silver and emeralds, and silk white gloves he had steepled in front of him. The thing that stuck out about him the most though, was the ting of red upon the fingertips, but that was no color-changing charm. Where it clung to the cloth, it looked a tad rustic and peeling where the splotches were.
Regulus swallowed, and clasped his hands behind his back again in the correct gesture father preferred.
The Dark Lord's second in command, Regulus would bet his wand on it.
"Now then," Wilkes' next little jostle to his own seat at the opposite end of the table felt less cheerful by the step. "Let's get this started."
RAB
The mark felt like a sunburn on his skin. He kept fighting the urge to poke it under his school robes as he returned Monday with his slip of parchment for Slughorn with his excuse for his missing weekend. Of course his Head of House just laughed the whole thing off and invited him to another party he politely agreed to attend.
He'd expected to feel, different. More powerful somehow, though his Transfiguration work still wasn't top of the class like he'd hoped. His friends at school still treated him the exact same as before, not that he'd shown them, but some inner part of him had wondered if they'd just know.
Sirius hadn't even seemed to realize he was out of school though- but of course that idiot hadn't the smarts to do anything that wasn't flashy laughs as he hung off Potter's arse.
He didn't care, he told himself as he put the black hood on. He didn't care where Sirius not-Black was today during this graduation.
So why did he have to keep reminding himself?
He wasn't going to take his OWL's, some small little part of him made a joke that sounded oddly like his brother.
He was going to show the world what was coming, he firmly reminded the stupid idea as his eyes adjusted to seeing through the slits and his breath puffed unpleasantly back on him in the enclosed space. It was sweltering hot under the thing in moments, but not a sound escaped his lips as he met in the dungeons with the six other selected members of graduation today.
Nobody knew who exactly they all were, of course, Regulus had been given the cloth with a slip of parchment inside his book bag without ever seeing who had left it there which should have been impossible for how well he'd always taken to his job of watching everything around him. He could make some educated guesses though.
One seemed particularly thrilled to be in the task of interrupting the Quidditch Finals with a boiling cauldron at their feet, where Sirius would be...
Another was all but dancing on the spot with pleasure about whatever task was whispered by the tallest of the lot circling in front of them all, something to be hung right in front of the doors of Hogwarts Castle, he heard snatches of. Each eagerly nodded as they were finally given details.
Regulus, of course, was tasked with keeping an eye out in case Dumebldore walked in on the most important task of all, the others were just to cause a distraction. Wilke's voice whispered under the hood in his ear his position, and Regulus kept his hands clasped steadily behind his back to hide tawdry eagerness or sweat from his brow. The mask made it pointless, but still he kept himself from having a change in expression as he gave a small nod of understanding.
He knew the moment it had all started, screams erupted from the pitch that had nothing to do with a Snitch catch, chaos erupted as the mass of students ran towards the school where a body he knew not the name of hung from the rafters, while Regulus kept his wand drawn, prepared to stun anyone who came across his task of snatching away one of Dumbledore's many trinkets. He did not know what it did, he did not need to as Wilkes came sprinting down the spiral stairs with the device firmly under his hand and took off without looking back to see if Regulus was following, which of course he was, task now complete.
They made it to one of the very many secret entrances out of the school the Dark Lord alone knew of and found themselves in a low, dirt tunnel that would lead to Hogsmeade. Regulus stirred up envy in his chest of when Wilkes had been passed such a secret and how to better prove he could be worthy of much the same even as he knew they'd never be coming back. He knew the exact moment they must have left the school grounds because Wilkes reached behind him and grabbed him, disapparating on the spot.
They did not know how, or even if the others were expected to get away from the damage they'd caused that school. Their mission was complete.
The graveyard surrounded them in a maze of stones and dirt, a little village ablaze in the high noon sun as the Dark Lord stood before him for the first time in his pale glory.
Regulus bowed on instinct to be in such a presence a moment before Wilks quickly did the same, presenting the click-clacking object in his palm.
"You've done well Wilkes, Black," Regulus dared not look up to see the gleam of his red eyes and was left to wonder in awe of the intelligence in their depths as the object was taken in the long hands. The sun made the pale flesh likely as invulnerable as the hardest of metal. Regulus flushed with pride and somehow bowed lower without a care in the world.
RAB
The Leaky Cauldron was always dark around the edges, a no-man's land where all sorts from every side came to gain entrance and go about their way. A centaur had even clip-clopped through the pub his last trip here and had some whispered conversation with a troll before the last words, "Knockturn Alley," were spoken and they departed.
Peter Pettigrew was a housekeeper here.
Both had frozen, that very first time, upon recognizing the other for their one mutual contact. Sirius's old friend turned away first, dismissively, he hadn't redirected his wand. Just went about waving it to remove gum from under the table before heading upstairs to continue.
Regulus didn't see him every single trip he came around to quietly accrue interest or news of what was going on in the greater wizarding world, but it happened every fortnight at least. The guy slept here, he'd once caught him exiting a live-in room rubbing sleep from his eyes and tugging his uniform on while passing his door after his meeting with a Daily Prophet Editor. They'd locked eyes again, and then Regulus kept walking, feeling the eyes on his back for only a moment.
Sirius, nor Potter or Lupin, ever made an appearance.
It struck him as odd after the seventh time and he exhaled in pure relief, like an itch he'd finally scratched as he understood what he hadn't known to question yet. They'd all been so closely surrounded by each other at school, how had none of them popped over and caught him here yet too? Just to give a passing wave to their mate as they went through to the heavily populated shopping center behind, to have a drink with him off his shift, in fact the only person he ever saw Pettigrew talking to was his boss as he collected his money.
Regulus was not a curious person by nature, he'd never allowed himself to be. He was not doing very well in his job for the Dark Lord on collecting what was needed because he didn't have the natural pull to keep questioning once he got his basic answer. They were fixing to relocate him to something else, he knew from the last meeting. Pyrites had non so subtly hinted this at the last meeting if he didn't come back with something useful next time.
He'd only been in the presence of the Dark Lord once. His newspaper clippings had grown in number but lacked any accomplishments of his own on how their outlet spun their wondrous deeds of spreading the word for pureblood elitism with no help from himself.
Sirius was a traitor to the cause and he shouldn't care what he was up to, he told himself firmly as he turned away from Pettigrew chewing on caramelized popcorn and shuffling menus around. Maybe the two had a falling out or something, his mates had grown as tired of his big brother as their parents and he was destined to die alone.
So it was to his surprise as much as anyone's when the bag was given a push towards him and the guy said randomly, "going to meet the Minister of Magic today, or are you still building up to that?"
"Haven't the faintest what you're on about," he said coldly, not even looking at the sweet. He had no clue of what his blood status was, but if Sirius associated with him, the track record wasn't good.
Pettigrew laughed of all things, though he'd told no joke. Perhaps he was thick. "Sorry, I'm bored, not stupid." Then he took his treat back and just walked off.
It occurred to him what the idiot might have been trying at though at his next Death Eater meeting, when Fenrir Greyback made an appearance, and an interesting mutter to Wilkes. "Lupin mucking things up with his Order pal, oh how I'd love to rip those two idiots apart."
"The Order will get what's coming to them," Wilkes smoothly talked him down into a chair and handed him a tray of still flesh and bleeding liver.
The Order of the Phoenix was a disjointed project confected up by the old fool Dumebldore to try and stop them, they were a group of children who hadn't a hope of keeping up with what they were doing, a mild annoyance at best.
Of course Sirius had gotten involved. What he now reflected on, was that Pettigrew might have as well, and was watching him, fishing to him the other day for information on the nobler side. His blood boiled with fury for the slight, that pudgy idiot had no idea who he'd messed with. "Black?" Pyrites interrupted his quiet anger as he offered him a tartare. "Have anything to report?"
They were at a casual dinner more than an outright meeting, for now, hosted at the newest initiations house, some idiots named Carrow. This was still a test though, everything was. "The newest batch of flightless chickens," he smiled to himself.
Pyrites gave him a curious smile and took a seat next to him, for the first time. Already straight in his seat, Regulus convulsively swallowed his food and took in at once much like he would have at Slughorn's party as he tuned into being suddenly much more interesting than five seconds ago. Perhaps this was a treasure he could bring in.
His next trip to the Leaky Cauldron had only one goal in mind, as he held a fistful of the gold at the ready.
It was slightly busier today than usual, much to his disadvantage. Rain was pouring down, the heavens above cracking at the seams with relentless thunder causing people to linger, take shelter, and drink merriment next to the warm fire. The onslaught of noise made him stop on the threshold and twitch unpleasantly for only a moment before he shook out his cloak and took a seat next to the stairs.
Pettigrew was scrambling all around, one of the usual waiters must be out because he seemed to be doing at least four things at once while Tom was all thumbs at the bar keeping up with drinks and orders. Regulus waited patiently, of this he'd always had, and simply kept the clutch in his fist and ordered only water, awaiting his chance.
Terribly late at night when the bartender finally kicked the last person either out the door or up the stairs to where they belonged, he watched the sweaty lump fall into a nearby seat completely unaware he was still here surely, as tucked away in his corner as he was. When Tom did spot him, he gave a look of disapproval and said, "keep up that no trouble from you while I clean up back, you'd best not be here when I return." Then he limped away behind the bar.
"Where's his son?" He quietly, politely started the conversation this time. "Out sick tonight? Get his head stuck in a walnut jar?"
Those watery brown eyes dragged up to meet him, but to his surprise, there was a tentative smile on his lips. "Snuck out with his girlfriend, Ol' Tom's going to yank his ears off when Tom the Fourth gets back."
Regulus got up from his chair with purpose and carefully placed down the consolation for his rudeness last time, the golden, hard caramels still in their wrappers. "Look like you could use a pick me up after that."
He picked one up with such a look of confusion on his face he may not have ever seen one before. Perhaps he was a Muggleborn. "What's this for?"
He leaned forward in his seat with as friendly a smile as he could muster as he fibbed, "wanted to hear about Sirius, but I was worried about going right to him, might deck me. Know a good time I could meet up with him?" If he could drag a traitor to the Dark Lord's feet, that surely could be of some use.
This was apparently the wrong thing to say though, as his rat-like face scowled, and he untwined one crinkly end of the treat with a contemplative look as if he might blow it up for a second before simply popping it into his mouth and answering, "wrong person to ask then. In case you haven't noticed, I see those arsewipes once a month at best, they're to busy for me nowadays."
It was interesting to have his little theory confirmed, but disappointing then this wouldn't lead anywhere. Still, he didn't want to seem suspicious, so kept up the charade as he tried to concoct how to back out of this. "Ah, well, I figured I was just missing him coming around for a drink, thank you."
The soft noises of him sucking on the candy was drowned out by the still drizzling rain and pounding wind, Regulus had just sat back in his seat to dismiss himself when Pettigrew said, "if you want me to pass along to meet him, it'll cost you more than a sweet?" He was rolling the confection around his tongue and contemplating him with suddenly much sharper eyes than moments ago, but the accusation was clear as Regulus was the one to swallow nervously. "Didn't you two have a falling out? Funny time to pick back up, since he's never once asked about you."
"You haven't told him I've been here?" For the first time in his life, the question passed his lips without thinking that one through. It had just seemed natural to him until five minutes ago these lot shared every mundane thing with each other.
"Why would I?" He arched a very dismissive brow to somebody he should be on the floor thanking his lucky stars to walk away from this exchange from. He whispered with the most bitterness yet, "not like they give a damn about what I have to say."
There was something so familiar in the tinge of those words, yet it took Regulus reaching for a candy of his own and unwrapping it slowly to figure out why. It was the same way he spoke about Sirius in his own head; old, regretful, loneliness, and hurt of a problem that wouldn't leave.
His parents had never understood, they'd never even treated it like a loss. He couldn't go home and say anything to them about how much he still missed going across to Sirius's room over the summer, when he was bloody there instead of over at Potter's. His brother had never reciprocated in kind, but it was a connection he still achingly missed, that came powerfully back in the dead of night. He'd call Kreacher up to his room instead and they could sit and talk, but his house-elf just nodded along to whatever he said, never quite engaging back, just giving him what he needed, something to talk to.
A powerful ache lodged in his chest, a second first in the course of five minutes, as he realized he wanted someone to talk to about Sirius. The caramel had melted in his tongue, Peter Pettigrew was on his second by the time Regulus answered, "I might."
Those watery brown eyes flashed up to meet him, cautious, wary again, clearly untrusting of what was coming next.
"Has he ever done that thing, where he asks a question and then interrupts the answer?"
Peter threw his head back and laughed. Maybe he was taking the mickey. Maybe he didn't know anything about his brother's organization. What he did have was a very snide response that made Regulus grin right back. "Try every damn time he opens his mouth."
RAB
The mutual companionship was odd, and something Regulus quickly looked forward to the following weeks. Even though he'd been wrong and had nothing to report back, he'd merely been delegated to attaining a job infiltrating Gringotts indirectly, Atria Day had gotten a career as a Curse Breaker and this was an unassuming meeting place as much as any that kept him around as well as finding high-end Ministry employees to keep in their good pockets as while also making tabs on the Daily Prophet's reporters who hung around the hags and harpies for gossip.
Still small level things, but he found himself caring less as he now spent his free time bitching about an old problem to someone who happily laughed along.
"I thought Sirius was joking about that for years!" There were tears coming out of Peter's eyes as he slammed his fist on the table. "He really tried to paint over the portraits in your home?"
"Got caught of course," Regulus beamed as he sloshed back his fourth drink, he got drunk oddly quickly around here lately and kept wondering if Peter spiked them with something else. "Merlin you should have heard Mum and him shouting at each other for that phallic bit on the wall, no, I'm glad you didn't. My ears still ring from it."
"The obnoxious prat always thought he could get away with everything," his shrill laughter wasn't as grating over time, Regulus got used to it quickly. "How did he try to pin that one on Kreacher?"
"Tripped," he snorted into his mug, making the bloke laugh all the harder.
"Just the worst, honestly that idiot, how he's even functional, let alone helpful to Dumbledore any day is a mystery to me," Peter wiped at his eyes.
Regulus's ears pricked with interest for the first time. Had he been downplaying before then, or outright lying about Sirius's status in the Order? Perhaps Peter was as low on the food chain as he was and might not even be one-hundred percent sure.
"He's an old fool," Regulus scoffed dismissively, just to test the waters. "Should have kicked Sirius out of school back when he nearly got Snape killed from that monster under the tree."
Peter stopped laughing, but kept smiling for a few moments, there was a hard edge to that look while his eyes rested on Regulus. "Lot of shite should have happened that night that didn't. I tried to tell James to dump his arse and not forgive him after Sirius and Remus made up from fighting about that, he was the same impulsive prick right after and more people than just Snape could have gotten hurt that night. Did anybody listen to me though? Nope," he finished by popping the P and his tone angrier than ever.
"Got more than just my brother to get off your chest?" Regulus offered while shaking his empty flask. "I've got nowhere else to be."
"Really?" He arched a disbelieving brow. "Why have you kept coming around at all? Not that this hasn't been fun, but you've really nothing better to do than bitch about old school shite."
"No more than you," he sighed into his drink. "Everybody kept blathering on about how great life's going to turn out once we got our ducks in a row, but seemed to have left out the part that you can't forget your past."
"You left school early though," Peter challenged back. "We all thought you went in with You-Know-Who's crew. Are you really trying to claim you just keep up with old drinking buddies twice your age around for fun?"
Sandpaper dusted down his throat in shock he did know more than he'd been letting on, but he held his gaze with an icy glare of his own. "Perhaps I did, maybe the alluring enchantment of it all is getting dull though. As if you're one to talk, toiling away your hours here."
Peter held his gaze with a defiance that surprised him, this was no perspiring child who had no clue what was happening in the wizarding world war. "I kept telling myself I was saving up to move to the states or something, there was nothing for me here until Dumebldore himself asked me to stay." His gaze wavered then, face clouding with his own disappointment. "I've regretted it ever since, you are literally the only person who listens to a word out of my mouth. Even my old headmaster doesn't ask me if I've found anything of interest anymore from watching the comings and goings here."
Was it a ploy if both parties knew exactly what they were getting into? Regulus swallowed, the precipice of the tightrope before him suddenly making him feel a sense of vertigo even as he chewed on his cheek and thought through the possibilities.
He came to a cautious conclusion as he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled something gold out, but it was no sweet this time. "Maybe we could help each other out then?"
He placed the galleon very precisely on the center of the table.
"There's an illegal dragon trading run by some idiot named Mulciber going on down at the Hog's Head next week, the Ministry's already caught and cleared him five times though. Might not be anything of use to us, but maybe ol Dumby could get something out of that."
Peter looked at the little gold coin for a long time, his fingers flexing giving away his desire, but something in him still hesitating. Regulus shook his drink again and prompted as if no change of subject had been offered, "Potter really mary that Evans girl, or did she murder him out of sheer annoyance yet?" He had much better verbal control of himself than idiotic Severus who still couldn't control his temper and often spat it during his reciting of whatever he'd been up to. Still, it felt strange on his tongue not to call what she was, a Mudblood, but the oddly lingering idea was also there he'd never asked what Peter's blood status was either.
The double dose of carrot finally won out, Peter took the coin and tucked it into his pocket before getting up for another round, telling him back, "James did this thing just last week with this idiot Cardoc, I'll tell you all about how they thought releasing a pixie onto some stupid meeting would help anything."
RAB
It was never explicitly detailed, there were no secret handshakes before or after their meetings and the oddly hysterical idea of Wilkes asking if Pettigrew would like to join their next dinner party made Regulus laugh with an odd nervous air he'd lost around Peter without remembering when. Still, he was learning all kinds of new names and a few vague locations of where they knew Death Eater's hung out to be avoided by anyone important, and where Order members deemed safe enough to let loose a little.
That was all it was meant to be at the start.
Peter had been telling him the past two meetings he almost had enough coins to make a fresh start out of here, so Regulus had laughed and slipped him a few extras to earn another story about how Lupin and some woman named Meadows were setting up to go look in on Malfoy.
Pyrites had been happier than usual with the exchange though and invited him to the meeting with the Dark Lord himself.
It wasn't until he got there did he realize it was a collection of just his inner circle.
Regulus couldn't begin to guess at half of the people under the hoods, their ranks were still swollen and many as compared to the now slightly repetitive names of that useless Order with their little annoying pinpricks into their plans.
His master entered last, the power radiating out of him incomparable to any wizard he'd ever met once more, perhaps he wasn't even a wizard. Perhaps he was Merlin himself reincarnated, more powerful and terrible than all their might combined as he bowed, his pulsing energy as he let his wand linger beside him daunting, an invisible tug in his chest wishing him to lean in closer to know what magic he was silently casting all around them.
"My loyal Death Eater's," his soft voice was like that of a snake, enchanting, venomous. So curious to look upon the strange noise, terror of what was to come when you did. "Death is among us this night, a loyalty tested and won. How fortuitous to us, that young Mr. Malfoy not only played his part in telling that frivolous Order exactly what we wanted them to know, but brought us a gift."
He started pacing, barefoot in his swishing black robes, a deity among them.
"Death," he repeated again, something cruel in the taste of his tongue as the word echoed in the room. "A fear that all but Lord Voldemort will someday know. I, who have made strides to prevent even Dumebldore's little spies from overpowering me. I, Lord Voldemort, who grant death, but will not succumb to it. The measures I have taken, the boundaries of magic I have surpassed. You, my loyal Death Eater's, need never doubt this."
Regulus's ears were burning with desire, his feet longed to get closer, to grovel and bow and know more of these secrets.
"Ah, but where are my manners," his high, cold, icy laugh was a promise. "I would have introduced our guest of honor sooner, but it matters no more now, does it Miss Dorcas Meadows?"
She came forward, her invisible bonds gagging her, propelling her smoothly no matter how she fought, her eyes wide and frightened as she hovered an inch off the floor in some sort of suspended animation between life and death.
"She has been foolish, spreading lies of our power," his voice always somehow managed to trail off in a softer whisper than when he'd started, like an iceberg, the loudest it would go was to chip and move everything around it.
"Yes my lord," they all whispered.
"She, who was foolishly caught pilfering a gift I gave to my loyal follower Lucius, an object of greatest value, will now pay the price..."
"Yes my lord," they echoed back.
Her features were blurry around the edges as if she already had one foot in the veil, her face was a mask of terror, and Regulus witnessed his first death on the woman as the Dark Lord dropped the incantation just long enough for them to hear her scream begin before the flash of green light blinded the room.
She was dead before she hit the ground.
RAB
Regulus had never thought of his home as cold before, but lately he couldn't seem to get warm either. Every time he closed his eyes he saw that woman's face, and it made more flesh erupt under his robes as if he were spooked by something, but they had laughed...surely he should have too?
His mother scolded him to stop asking frivolous questions and changed tactics to asking what the youngest Brown woman was doing for coffee on Sunday.
His father snapped about sharing secrets of the Dark Lord's and to hold his tongue before having him recite all of the department heads in the Ministry, who was up for election, their competition, whom should be backed...
He found himself wanting to talk to Peter Pettigrew about what he'd seen, he even opened his mouth to do just that their next lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, but his friend seemed more off-color than usual. Gray, looking all around like he hadn't before. Regret, Regulus speculated, some part of him had known all along what they'd been doing was wrong and now he was flinching every single time Regulus opened his mouth waiting for him to bring up something other than the mundane. He never excused himself to leave, but Regulus paid him his extra pence in tips as usual without sharing anything today, or having anything given in return. The look of relief on his face made him vow to leave this to himself.
So he found himself alone, as usual, flipping absently through Uncle Alphard's private collection, for once without fear of getting caught. He'd been blasted off the tapestry last night for his will being discovered passing his vault of gold along to Sirius, and his trove of books to him. He'd yet reallocated any to his home, instead whittling away more time cataloging each stack of books purely by memory and word of mouth to Kreacher where each should be sent, to his room, father's study, or their own vault, more often then not going days without delivering any away as he read some he'd always been forbidden away from. The woman's horrified face was on every other page he flipped, but the next paragraph kept the knot in his stomach from growing worse.
His information had come to a passive crawl once more, he had not expected another audience with the Dark Lord, let alone such a prestigious advent as being summoned to his chambers in the next location alone.
Pyrites had been murdered by Auror's a fortnight ago, some new law of Crouch's passing allowing killings of suspected Death Eater's on the spot that had caused quite a bit of strife among their ranks for such a law being passed through, as well as much vying for who the next second would be. It was Wilke's who escorted him to the door and gave him a grim smile as Regulus slipped his mask into place before entering, but word had been coming up the pipe even as they walked through these very halls Snape had been following Dumbledore for some meeting of his next month at the Hog's Head. Bellatrix had made a bid to fix the situation by getting in touch with Crouch's son fresh from school. Malfoy had just gained another promotion through the ranks, now posed to be next in line on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
Politics, money, favors, and bribes, it all seemed so tedious as Dorcas Meadow fell to the floor in a flash of green light again and again in his mind.
He walked in with his head already bowed, talking only the most cursory of looks about to see where he should bend at the waist properly. The Dark Lord stood before a mirror, head bowed, hands clasped as if in prayer, something long and gold trailing from his hands that rattled slightly as he pressed it to his palms, roving it back and forth across his pale skin. His presence stronger than any giant, the magical know-how of every book he'd ever read all in those gleaming scarlet eyes, the blood of all those before them, pure, ancient, and powerful.
She had not screamed, the green light broke his straight face, and he was grateful for the mask, to not be looked upon for his impurities of lingering thoughts. "Regulus Black," his soft voice invited him forward, he straightened from his bow but dared not assume. "You have done well, your information invaluable to Lord Voldemort." The flutter in his chest was gone, he felt the praise and the absurd thought flashed across his mind if the Dark Lord ever remembered, or cared for how many he'd chosen to fall. "I reward those loyal to me young Regulus, you have done well."
"Thank you, my Lord," he did not stop the gruffness in his voice, hoping his master thought it was emotion that he'd never let slip before.
"I have one last task of you, one favor more, a trifle of the Black family's immense wealth, and you will gain a seat at my table," Regulus ducked his head again just in time as the Dark Lord towered over him, turning to face him, the golden chain in his hand swung back and forth like a pendulum.
"Anything Master," he promised at once, as was his due. Mother and father would be so proud...
"I require a house-elf," his voice trailed off in a hiss of inviting laughter, one he did not dare to join in on as he quivered on the spot with shock he refused to show. "Instruct him here, your creature, have him do my bidding, and your future will be rewarded beyond your wildest measures."
"Ye-yes my lord, at once my lord," and he did as always, reacted as told, the Black pride had the words falling from his lips with speed his lineage was gifted for. "Kreacher!"
A crack, the loudest noise yet made from either of them, and his beloved friend who had always been by his side was there once more. He parroted the promised words without a second thought, "the Dark Lord requires your services," the pride in his voice was unmistakable, it was what they'd always dreamed of for their house. "You are to do as requested by him, whatever he asks, and then come back home at once."
"Yes sir Master Regulus," his deep bullfrog's voice choked up with gratitude, as he was with every task given, turning to bow so low his nose nearly touched the toes of the Dark Lord.
Those long fingers clasped Kreacher's head in praise, the other holding tight to the golden medallion flashed green for just a moment. Regulus's throat hitched, he dare not breathe again for fear of what he'd done wrong, but the whispered words of menace that imbued power in the air as they spoke were not for him, "thank you Black, you are dismissed. The next time you feel your mark burn, you will know where to find me."
"Thank you, my lord."
RAB
Something was wrong. Regulus had never been an imaginative child, that was always Sirius, so he knew he had not been thinking things up for his own fancy as the rise of murder preceded the Dark Lord's words before Kreacher was taken away. The flash of green had not just been in his mind's eye either, whatever that treasure of his was being safeguarded away, it was powerful, and it would cause more death.
Would his older brother believe him if he summoned him here, to Uncle Alphard's home, a place they'd both loved to go to whenever allowed? It was nearly his brother's birthday again, dare he risk an accomplice? He had no faith in the idea even as he kept loading up his quill with ink and left it hovering over parchment, the words would not come to him. His brother had abandoned him long before he'd left the house and never looked back, he'd always found a way to take care of himself.
He dared not call Kreacher back, lest the Dark Lord guess the ruse, but he wished he could, the call was on the tip of his tongue as he flipped like a demon through every book on powerful magical artifacts for a flash of gold and green. Mother and father had always expected him to make his own way of the world, he would find this answer and take up the mantle of what they'd always wanted for him one last time and somehow, make this right. It all fit perfectly together in his head, Sirius may even be proud of him too when his secret was discovered.
Chapter after chapter, page after page, lost artifacts of the great founders of Hogwarts themselves and treasured items of Merlin's hidden away in vaults around the world, his Uncle's collection had never failed him before, and it did not again as a passage leaped out at him just as a crack broke the silence of his sanctuary.
The book tumbled to the floor, he'd never in his life been so clumsy, and collided with another stack collapsing a whole tower. Kreacher lay gasping in the beige carpet, dripping wet, eyes wild, and a pleased cry of, "I have returned, Master Regulus!"
"Yes, Kreacher, I see that," he laughed softly as he turned to begin digging his book out. "Tell me of your adventure with the Dark Lord then," he first unearthed a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He smiled as he set it aside, a long ago game of he and Sirius going on a quest like the Three Brothers for objects to defy death. It was no true surprise to him the Dark Lord had managed something of making that a reality... "I, who grant death, but will not succumb to it. The measures I have taken, the boundaries of magic I have surpassed." Oh yes, death would be as endless as the inferi who had tried to drown his only friend left in this place if he did nothing.
Excitement coursed through him of finally going on his own adventure when he found that word again in the tomb. Soul's, he hummed thoughtfully to himself as he not only read the description of what could grant even partial, eternal life. He wondered what his soul would look like now if he ripped it out, the color, what energy would it bring? Truly his master was a worthy wizard who had simply gone one step to far. His parents had set him on the right path to know and study these ways, and Sirius had always dove into everything headfirst without thinking. Finally he felt like a true member of the family, rather than the outcast in the shadows of all as words flew easily from his wrist at last when he replicated as best he could the little trinket in his minds eye;
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.
When their minds were searched by his unlimited power, he would know this was all his doing.
What a rush, he tucked the paper securely inside the golden locket, what a thrill! He'd never done something so impulsive before, he felt absolutely giddy! Finally, the face of Dorcas Meadows would not haunt him again.
Regulus knelt down to his level and grasped his friend's shoulders firmly. He so rarely commanded his house-elf, he much preferred just talking to him like nobody ever bothered to do to him.
People spoke to Regulus Black, but the last time he'd just sat around and talked to anyone without fear or worry of what came out of his mouth would cause somebody misery had been so long ago...back before Sirius had gone to school...
"Kreacher, listen to me, this is an order." The magical words washed over his house-elf with a shiver of glee to serve. "We're going to that cave. You're going to get that locket and come back here to destroy it." It had to be this way, he entrusted this task to no other but a very own branch of magic even his Master had not considered in his sublime orders. He wasn't done, and Kreacher could feel that. He waited on tenterhooks with bated breath for the order to be complete. "You're not to tell another member of this family about it."
RIP
The taste of salt hung in the air, though there was no sea breeze blasting in here as Regulus released Kreacher's hand. The craggy surface beneath his shoes was slick with water, the mirror-smooth essence pooled around them closing them in made his skin tingle for what was beneath the surface.
He bit his cheek thoughtfully as he asked himself if the dead preferred saltwater or freshwater. Then he cleared his throat and turned to the basin to get to work.
Kreacher kept his head bowed, unable to look at him the entire time until his service compelled him to continue the task as he'd been instructed to do, no other words were said, or needed.
He'd been up in the attic pursuing old family heirlooms he knew the location of by heart, but still looking for something he thought he could show to Sirius to spark up a conversation when he heard it all. The shouting, the loud bangs, Mum's voice yelling-
Shrinking farther into the shadows, he swallowed dust and repressed a cough as it got louder, they were on the stairs he knew well, and more curses, the loudest bang of all as something heavy landed at the bottom, that horrible slam as the door echoed off the wall and the portraits in the gallery all added to the shouting, it went on for ages all that night as his mother and father spoke his brother's name for the last time, he heard the blast, the quietest one of all and knew what he'd find the next time he looked at the family tree and the little black circle that would now be there.
He didn't leave the attic for the rest of the summer to confirm it until the day before school, his parents gave up the search for Sirius long before that and just hadn't a care to deal with him as they erased it all from history as well as they could spreading the word to every important person that mattered.
Sirius had left.
The memory kept replaying on a loop through his head, it was so loud, the screaming, and he'd done nothing, he'd never done a thing right because he was a coward, his very name and blood was all a lie that he'd give his last breath to fix, proving he could do this one thing right as the dead rose by hundreds.
He had not seen Kreacher giving the last goblet full to him, his beloved house-elf had not stayed to watch him crawl to the water and dip trembling fingers in, causing the ripples as he greedily tried to follow the instinct of water, just a sip, he just needed water to make the memory stop...and then they were everywhere.
Regulus fought back, like he had never before, his last and only act of defiance as the iron grips of the lifeless puppets tugged at his hair, his shirt, his legs. They were everywhere, the inferi corpses who had no magic never let him make a bid for his own in his delirium. Even if he had any energy left to summon fire, he would not have. It was over, he'd accepted that the moment he'd given his order to Kreacher.
His lungs were starting to burn, had not even tried to count his breaths this time, they did not matter. It was the drive for survival alone that had him still clutching the last of the air in his lips from sheer force of will, his hair floating around his face like ghostly seaweed as he forced his eyes to remain open-
THUD, THUD, THUD
But surface tension of the water did not break around him. Under the water, he could feel his heart beating, the sound loudest of all where his screams only escaped as bubbles, his last breaths came to a stop as the placid surface turned into the mirror lake once more...but he'd never know how long it lasted.
HPHPHPHP
This was a focus on Regulus, not Peter, so there's a subsequent scene in a following chapter of We Were to explain the rest of his betrayal, but just in case it wasn't clear he went full Death Eater after his only friend vanished and willingly started giving up the Order without incentive when he too thought Regulus had deserted him. Felt like clarifying for anyone who only reads this one-shot.