**Please remember the 'M' rating, dear readers!**
Chapter Seventy
Severus strode down the office corridors of the Foundation.
He pushed any and all thoughts of the night before to the back of his mind. Determined he would think on none of it, today. Nothing of what had been discussed and arranged with Dumbledore and what that – very soon – would all mean.
He went through his own office and into Regulus'; maintaining their vigilance, that they do not appear too close, even if Severus were there to attend this wedding.
Regulus glanced at him over his shoulder, from where he stood in the corner of the room at the mirror; "I wasn't sure if you were going to show."
"And miss this?" Severus raised an eyebrow; "Perish the thought, Regulus."
Regulus got a grin, turning back to the mirror.
"You're on orders?"
"I am."
"Should I be worried?"
"I have scouted the perimeter five times over; assessed the defences. Whatever enchantments Dumbledore and the Ministry combined have placed upon this building, the chances of a repeat of last year's breach are next to nothing."
"The evacuation procedures are in place," Regulus stated, straightening up before he turned and headed towards where Severus stood; "Candlestick porkeys again and the floo is ready to go. I will -"
"You will do nothing, Regulus."
Regulus lifted his chin, with a little frown at the interruption.
"In case you have forgotten, you have a far more imminent imperilment before you – marriage – and your focus should be entirely upon ensuring you get yourself down that aisle."
Regulus snorted, getting a grin then, and reached up to his collar – "Thanks for the pep-talk, Severus," - he did up the last of his buttons – "imperilment," – he snickered.
"I'll remember that, when it's your turn."
Severus' lips twitched but even the threat of a smile – something Regulus rarely missed the chance to prod at to attempt to increase his amusement – was not enough to conceal that on his mind was something other than weddings, marriage and the fact that he had half-expected not to even find Regulus here at all, and would have, instead, been forced to relay the news to Lily that the groom had bolted.
"What happened?" Regulus looked serious, all of a sudden, obviously picking up on his brooding; "The Dark Lord, has he –"
"Enough," Severus raised a hand to stop him; "Do not attempt to distract yourself with dire predictions, Regulus –" he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey; "- perhaps some liquid strength to steel your nerves?"
Severus accioed two glasses, beginning to pour the first, but Regulus held up a hand and shook his head – declining, much to Severus' astonishment – and said; "I won't be needing it."
Regulus opened the drawer beneath his desk and pulled out a box, a ring box, that he flicked open with the pad of his thumb to look at the gold bands inside, getting a smile; "Not today."
He met Severus' eyes.
Severus got the slightest – the slightest – of smiles at that; at being faced with Regulus' certainty about this union and he nodded, putting the bottle aside and lifting the single drink he had poured.
"Well, I will."
He downed his own in one swig and Regulus chuckled.
"You'd think you didn't like weddings, Severus."
"What's not to like?" Severus rolled his eyes.
The door to Regulus' office opened without a knock and Malachi came into the room, looking excited and delighted by all that was going on; "Dad, they're ready for you."
Regulus gave his son a smile, putting a hand on his shoulder and tossing over the box. Malachi caught it with a smile and tucked it into his pocket.
And Regulus gave his eyebrows a lift, shooting the two of them a grin.
"Let's get this show on the road."
"And with these vows, I give you my hand. I give you my love. And I give you myself – "
Regulus' eyes were upon the woman before him as he spoke the words – entirely enraptured and amazed that in mere moments she would be his – and he smiled as he finished, the silk tie that slowly bound around their clasped hands before them tightening with his final words:
" – From this day, henceforth. For as long as we both shall live."
Julia's smile was almost coy, a bite upon her bottom lip, her eyes as all for him as his were for her, as he who conducted the service proclaimed it.
"I declare it before all those here present, that this man and this woman, are now – and forever more – husband and wife."
He gave them both a smile.
"You may kiss your bride."
Regulus smiled widely and Julia's followed suit, a little chuckle escaping her, before he stepped forward, taking her face in his hands and kissing her, to the whistles and cheers and applause of all those who bore witness to their union.
And it still felt incredible - surreal, even – to hold her, so openly, before the eyes of all who knew and loved them.
They drew back, smiling and giddy, their foreheads pressed together as they beamed at one another – husband and wife – and he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her tight to his side as they turned and made their way back up the aisle to the smiles and congratulations of those along the rows that had been set up on the grass in the grounds by the maze.
Malachi and Lily followed, Grace at her side smiling and holding her now-empty Flower Girl basket. And Regulus shot a smile over his shoulder at his smiling son, before he looked forward once more at the crowd and his eyes met Severus' where he sat halfway down the rows.
And his friend's lips twitched, his glance approving, it seemed, and Regulus shot him a grin.
Happier than he had ever been in his life.
And as they and their guests – who followed on their heels – quickly spilled out onto the grass behind the chairs, the music and the festivities and the well wishing quickly started up, and he and Julia were immediately pounced on by all that surrounded them, all wanting to shake their hands and wish them well and joke and be merry with them, in the hour or so before they were whisked off by the photographer with their Wedding Party – a small one consisting of Malachi, Lily and Grace – to get their snaps in before the real party began a little while later.
"So, Wife," Regulus whispered in her ear, as the two of them posed in front of the entrance to the maze – which had been decorated beautifully, he must admit, by his cousin for the occasion – and he touched his nose to her temple; "Has it been everything you dreamed it would be?"
"Hm," Julia tilted her head slightly, meeting his eyes; looking at him quite adoringly, indeed, if he did say so himself.
"Excellent! Excellent!" the photographer beamed; "Just keep doing what you're doing, you two!"
They laughed, then, both of them blushing at the reminder of the audience – bashful, it seemed, to have their affections so observed, which Regulus thought a little odd for they, two, extroverts, but then, he supposed, he rarely allowed himself to be seen as such – and they stumbled a little where they stood, Regulus behind her with his arms wrapped around her as they giggled.
"Oh, now that, that it excellent as well!"
Regulus grinned, turning Julia in his arms to face him then, and he touched his forehead to hers and met her eyes.
Julia smiled up at him; not quite so beaming this time. No, this was smaller, one she saved all for him, and with a look in her eyes so earnest and true that it quite nearly took his breath away. In that moment, he could see only her. Only her and all that she had given him and, if he were to really dream – as his cousins and Severus always did accuse him of doing far too much – then he could see it.
A future.
It was something that no one, not ever in his life, had ever given him a glimpse or a hope for. And it felt, for the first time ever, within his grasp.
"I love you, Julia," he murmured, finally speaking the words for the first time; "Very much."
Julia's eyes flicked, slowly, between his, seeming just as blown away by his love for her as he was.
And then she sighed, her hands coming up to his neck, drawing him down, before she kissed him, deeply, and his hands gripped her waist, returning her affections – her love – with all that he had for her, losing himself for a moment until:
"Oh, fantastic! Fantastic!" the photographer proclaimed; "Oh, my best one yet!"
And they laughed into one another's mouths, before drawing back with a roll of their eyes, shooting the photographer a cheeky smile as Regulus hugged her tight.
"Alright, how about we bring in the best man, hm?" the photographer said, indicating in Malachi's direction where he was standing with Grace and Lily, looking mortified at his dad and new stepmum's blatant displays of affection while Grace swayed watching them wistfully where she stood, swinging her basket at her side, and Lily gave them both a smile.
"Um. Are you sure?" Malachi raised an eyebrow; "I mean, I wouldn't want to interrupt or anything."
Regulus chuckled, holding out his arm; "Get over here, Son."
Malachi rolled his eyes, smiling then, and he headed over, getting pulled into both his and Julia's arms as the photographer exclaimed once more;
"Brilliant! Just like that, you three! Picture perfect, you lot are –" snap, snap; "Now, turn this way, over here –" he moved them over, changing his own footing; "Oh yes. Just like that!"
And the three of them laughed together, as they stumbled into position and posed with their arms around one another - the Foundation in view behind them, now – and they shot him cheeky grins for the next.
"Now that is the money shot, my friends! Absolutely perfect."
"Uncle Remus!" Harry hugged him, when he finally found him – alone – in the crowd just off the dance floor in the ballroom, where most of the guests had migrated to after the ceremony, and he drew back with a smile; "I've hardly seen you for weeks."
Harry supposed, or he would do, under normal circumstances that the simple explanation for that would be that he'd been tied up – loved up – with his new girlfriend. But Harry could see that Remus looked worn – exhausted, even – and he had scars, little scratches, on his face and the bits of his arms that Harry could see.
"What happened? Are you alright?"
Remus smiled, giving him a nod and squeezing his shoulder, his eyes as warm as they always were for him; "I am quite alright, Harry. I've been…on assignment. You might say things got a little gnarly there for a moment. But as you see; I am entirely well."
"Um. I wouldn't say entirely well, Uncle Remus," Harry said, eyeing him, before he whispered; "Have you been sent to spy on werewolves?"
Remus raised an eyebrow, getting a slight smile – obviously impressed at his guess – and he said; "Sometimes I forget you're not a little boy, so easily diverted anymore."
"I know what's going on in the world, Uncle Remus," Harry told him, feeling uneasy at Remus' basic admittance that his new task had been to run with the werewolves – Harry knew they were not all so warm and approachable as his uncle was – and he shook his head; "You shouldn't have to be with them. You're not…"
"Ah. Harry, I will stop you there," Remus said with a hand on his shoulder and a smile; "With Hogwarts due to resume tomorrow, my task is complete and you needn't worry yourself any further on the matter."
Harry sighed with relief and gave him a smile.
Good.
He'd found it more than stressful enough as it was, worrying about Snape all summer, and he didn't fancy having to spent the rest of the war worrying about Remus being in amongst it all – over enemies lines – as well.
"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks greeted him, her smile wide as she appeared at their side, with two glasses of champers in hand; "You enjoying the party?"
"Sure," Harry shrugged, his eyes going to the window, where he could see his mum and the rest of the wedding party still having their moving pictures snapped, and when he started to look back towards them his eyes found Snape.
He was standing alone at the bar with his back to the festivities.
"Um. I'll see you both later – tomorrow, right? If not later today."
"Just Remus, I'm afraid. Apparently, the Ministry has decided that I am just indispensable out on the field right now."
"Oh. Really?" Harry looked between them, figuring that must be disappointing for them. But if it was, they didn't show it.
Well.
Harry supposed there were worse fates that not working with your girlfriend.
"Well. I guess I'd see you at Christmas, then," Harry said, with a grin in Tonks' direction.
Remus got a smile at the implication.
"Count on it," Dora gave him a wink and Harry smiled, before he headed in the direction of the bar.
He didn't even, really, consider that he shouldn't until he was already at Snape's side, greeting him – "Hi," – and it was the look, at first, of confusion and, then, exasperation that he received when Snape realized who had approached that reminded him off it.
He had just become so used to it, these past few weeks, approaching and talking to Snape whenever he saw him.
But then, that had almost always been at the house.
"Mr. Potter," Snape straightened up, eyeing those around them; "I trust you are eagerly anticipating your return to classes this week?"
"Oh," Harry said, realizing he was going for the 'Professor' act; "Yes, Sir. Professor Snape. Really. Can't wait."
Snape's eyes closed for a second, the slightest of sighs, before he shot him a look.
They were saved by the arrival of the bride and groom coming back into the ballroom, applause breaking out upon their arrival, and Mr. Black gave everyone wide smiles as he led Julia through the crowd up to the bar, in their direction.
"Harry," Mr. Black slapped him on the back as he and Julia reached them, and then slung an arm around his shoulders; "What are you drinking?"
"Um. Pumpkin juice?"
"You heard the boy, Shaw," Mr. Black gave him a nod; "And a firewhiskey, and a Daisyroot – hang on, make that two firewhiskeys, won't you? One for Severus here, as well."
He and Snape shared an look between them.
"How about three?" Malachi piped up, from behind Harry, surprising him, and Harry shot him a grin.
"Make that two pumpkin juices, Shaw."
Shaw chuckled, nodding; "Coming right up, Boss."
"Harry!" Grace's voice suddenly called, and Harry turned, noticing her quickly approaching.
He made to intervene – to stop her, as Snape had assigned his duty the night before – but he needn't have as, upon the sound of her voice, Snape made a calm – but swift – departure from the group, heading in the direction of the patio.
"Well, looks like there is a spare glass of Firewhiskey going about," Mr. Black said, very quietly in Malachi's ear, before he shot a grin in Julia's direction; "But I take no responsibility if a certain someone should happen to get caught with it."
Malachi shared a grin with Harry, as Grace appeared at his side.
It didn't take long for the wedding celebrations to get into full swing.
The floor was quickly packed full as most everyone except a few stranglers – such as himself – danced to the music; and sung along with the singers; and brayed to the speech that Regulus gave; a day of glee, and merriment and liveliness that Severus supposed could have been far, far worse.
His eyes scanned the crowd, just as Regulus stepped up beside him.
"Trying to resist wowing us all with those dance moves of yours, Severus?"
Severus smirked; "And here was me impressed that you had opted to forgo the bottle for the day, Regulus."
"For the ceremony," Regulus clarified, before he tapped the side of his head with a finger; "I'm not forgetting a single moment of that, any time soon."
Severus' smirk held, while he inwardly conceded that – perhaps – he had been a little too pessimistic in his opinion of Regulus' commitment to this woman whom he had chosen – and actually wed, something Severus never thought he'd ever see in his, or Regulus', lifetime – and he gave a nod; "I wish your wife the best of luck. She'll need it; for putting up with you."
Regulus laughed then, shooting him a look.
"You haven't happened to come across my cousin, have you? I've been trying to track her down all day."
"As far as I'm aware, neither she nor Draco are even in attendance."
"Well. They were invited," Regulus said, looking bewildered, "Narcissa was the senior organiser of the event- well, the decor and the entertainment, that is - it makes no sense that she wouldn't show up to see how it turned out."
"Perhaps, the objection was to the choice of bride."
Regulus' eyes darkened, somewhat, at the statement.
"Could be. Now you mention it."
Someone approached and Regulus' eyes widened, then, in recognition, the darkness being shoved away behind a smile – "Congratulations, Black. The service was quite lovely, as is your wife" – but his smile quickly became a frown once more when they'd gone, speaking quietly.
"Why would the Dark Lord order you to attend but not my cousin?"
"Why, indeed."
At Regulus' concerned look, Severus added; "I shall do another perimeter check. Alert security if I see anything amiss. In the meantime –" Severus straightened; " – tend to your public. Or, indeed, your bride."
Regulus got a smile, giving him a nod of thanks, and they separated; Regulus returning to Julia and Severus heading out onto the grounds.
The check did not take long.
As expected, the defences were robust – stronger than ever – and all those in attendance were vastly safer here than anywhere else in the country.
Except, perhaps, Hogwarts.
And it was with that reassurance that Severus returned to the ballroom; the rowdiness of the crowd and the festivities had increased tenfold in the short time that he had been away, and he made his way back to the bar, politely greeting those he recognized who greeted him as he passed, until he reached and ordered another drink – having to almost shout over the din of it all.
"Here was me thinking you'd made an escape."
Severus got a little smile, that he quickly checked, at the sound of Lily's voice at his side. He gave her a nod, aware of the eyes of their coworkers around them; "Mrs. Potter. I trust you are enjoying the celebrations?"
"Oh, yes. I am, in fact," Lily said, with a smile – a rather suggestive one, in fact – and Severus wondered how much she had had to drink, throughout the course of the afternoon and, now, evening; "And yourself, Professor?"
Severus' lips twitched.
She knew he did not like that from her.
He opened his mouth to speak – not entirely sure if he was going to respond as he should do or as he actually wished to – but before he could, a searing burn seized his left arm.
His fingers twitched – the only sign of it happening – upon the bar where his hand rested.
Lily noticed it immediately, playfulness in her eyes dimming as she looked back at him.
Severus cleared his throat, straightening up, and he spoke quietly; "Alert the security – discreetly – and have a word with Regulus. It could be nothing."
"Or it could be something."
Indeed.
Severus would not be pulled from the event – from his post – without good reason.
But there was no time to dwell on the particulars – the scenarios that sprung to mind – and he turned and made his departure as Lily headed in the direction of the Security Supervisor.
"Never thought I'd see the day Regulus Black would finally be owned by a woman," Littlewood was laughing, where a small group of them – some of the Research Centre staff – had grasped him and implored him to join them at their table for a bit.
"Oh, I always knew – when the right woman came along," Cornelia said with a nod and a fond smile in Regulus' direction; "You are the softest of us all, Boss, much as you try to deny it."
"Well, hey, it's not as if he didn't have a thorough enough auditions process!" Quinton Gold said to 'ooooohs' and mock-offended laughs from those around the table.
"Very true, Quinton! What's to say he didn't just run out of contenders?" Clay piped up, to more rowdy laughter.
Regulus shook his head at their antics, as they howled at his expense, even if he could hardly hold back a smile.
"Do you lot mind, you are talking about my –"
"Oh, it is all on you, Boss," Littlewood interrupted him.
Regulus made to speak but before he could the music suddenly dimmed – the amplifying charm cut off – and the candles that lit the room were snuffed out, leaving all of them illuminated in the dim dusk sunlight that flickered in through the windows.
There was an air of confusion.
Of unease.
But that did not last long.
For a moment later, a voice echoed throughout the ballroom. A voice high and cold and clear; a voice that Regulus recognized immediately, from the very first word, and that had his blood run cold within his veins.
"Why, Regulus."
There was a stir. A terrified buzz falling upon everyone within the room.
"I must admit that I am disappointed to have been excluded from the celebrations. Most ungracious, Regulus. Most ungracious, indeed."
Regulus heard Grace whimpering, asking for her mother, behind him, and heard the hush of Dora's voice, attempting to soothe her.
"But Lord Voldemort is not so ungracious. It would, indeed, be so to have come here tonight – to a wedding – without bringing a gift, do you not think?"
Regulus sat still as stone, eyes upon the glass in front of him, all eyes upon him as they listened to the words directed his way.
"And so, I implore you, Regulus. Come to the gates. Come to the gates – now –, and no one shall be harmed. Do you think you can, my slippery little friend? Do you dare to face me, at last, as a man?"
Regulus' eyes lifted from the table and, when they did, they met Malachi's across the hall: the terror visible upon his son's face at the request.
"Or shall you hide behind your Foundation and your people – the coward that you are – and allow them to die for you as you did your brother. I just so happen to have the guest list – oh yes, Cornelia Heart, Mortimer Littlewood, Nymphadora Tonks…Harry Potter – why, Regulus. So much blood on yours hands, should you choose to defy me."
Regulus released a breath, eyes back upon the table, as the crowd stirred upon hearing the threat to themselves – nowhere to hide, now he knew their names and who they all were.
"Remain behind your walls at their peril; they will each die, one by one, in their beds tonight if you do not come before me, now. So, do. Come to me, save their little lives and receive your wedding gift. You have five minutes."
At first there was silence.
And then, a din of voices filled the ballroom; a panicked frenzy as they all wondered what to do; for there had been no procedure put in place for such a scenario as this. So unthinkable. But Regulus realized, then, that there was only one person whom he could have gotten that list from – it was classified, the guest list –Narcissa.
Regulus lifted the full glass of firewhiskey that had been sitting before him, downing it in one swig, and got to his feet. And, when he did, the ballroom fell silent and all eyes turned back to him.
Regulus' eyes scanned the crowd, quickly finding Julia, and he went to her first as she came to him – brushing off the hands and the implorations to remain from those he passed – and he took her hands in his when he reached her.
Her eyes which, earlier, had been so filled with joy, and happiness, and love were now filled with the same terror he had seen in Malachi's eyes – the knowledge that this was, most likely, it – and he swallowed, shaking his head.
He had known their time would be short.
But he'd certainly thought it'd be longer than this.
But the five minute deadline was ticking down fast. There was not nearly enough time for him to say what needed – what she deserved – to be said.
Regulus drew her aside, away from the listening ears of those present, and spoke quietly; "There is a portkey in my office. I want you to take Malachi, Harry and Grace and go back to the house. Wait for me there."
"Regulus."
"Wait for me there," he repeated the request – an attempt to fool them both that this was not their last moment – and said: "And I will come for you."
Julia's eyes glimmered now, and she shook her head, slightly, but it was not 'no' for his request, but for something else – the end, he supposed – and she spoke his name again; "Regulus."
Regulus took her face in his hands, kissing her, deeply. Poured everything he could into that one act, this one moment.
And when he drew back, Malachi was approaching with Harry on his heels, and Regulus quickly got him by the arm; "I need you to go with Julia. Both of you."
"Dad –" Malachi shook his head.
Regulus put his other hand on his shoulder, touching his forehead to his temple; "Please, Son."
When Malachi made no move to step away, Regulus met Julia's eyes, and she nodded, her hands going to Malachi's arms behind him, drawing him back, slightly. And Regulus turned to Harry, saying simply.
"Get your sister."
And then he walked by them, heading for the doors, all eyes upon him and Regulus' eyes skimmed the crowd increasingly desperately – seeking Severus – but he was nowhere in sight.
His Security Supervisor stepped up beside him.
"Shall we evacuate, Sir?"
"No," Regulus shook his head, eyes still scanning the crowd; "He probably already has Death Eaters stationed at all of their homes. They're safer here. No one leaves until I come back or... No one leaves. If I've not returned in the hour, alert the Ministry; they'll assist in the evacuations."
"Yes, Sir."
He stepped away as Regulus reached the doors – having finally given up on his fruitless hope that Severus might be able to offer some insight into how the hell he was supposed to do this – and when he did step out, the door quickly opened up again behind him and Lily followed.
He turned, immediately knowing what she meant by it, and shook his head; "No."
"You're not going down there alone, Regulus."
"Are you mad? What good would this do –"
"We are Order Members. We stand together."
"Lily –"
He broke off when Dora ran up the steps behind him, Remus Lupin on her heels.
"Dora."
"She's right, Uncle Reg," Dora said, with so much conviction that – in that moment – Regulus could have sworn he was looking at her mother; "We're not going to just stand back and let you walk to an execution. Remus and I, we went down there. There's five of them. Five of them to four of us; those aren't bad odds."
"Except that one of those five is the Dark Lord hims– we don't have time for this!" Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his own panic start to rise within him, time continuing to tick, tick, tick away, and he dropped his hand; "Alright. But stay behind me."
He hurried on by them – rather odd, indeed, that he was panicking that he might miss the deadline for his own execution – and Lily defied him, immediately, stepping in beside him as they walked.
"Where is Severus?"
"His Mark burned."
Regulus closed his eyes. A feeling of dread coming upon him.
"He's going to be down there. Do not look at him, Lily."
The rest of the walk was made in silence and too soon or, perhaps, just soon enough, they walked over the mound that revealed the gates down below.
There were, as Dora had said, four Masked Death Eaters. The Dark Lord paced the grass behind them.
Regulus hesitated, briefly, in his steps – almost a stumble, even – when he caught sight of him. This was madness. Madness. That he was walking towards him.
Regulus forced himself to get a hold of himself. To reign in his fear – his terror – and be calm – or, rather, at least not quaking – and face him, like the man he had asked for.
Even if Regulus were – as he was quite certain he was about to be – summoned forth and executed – as Lily and Dora and he was quite convinced he was – he would not, he would not cower before him. He would sooner spit at the ground at his feet than cower or bow once more.
Regulus stopped as he reached the gates.
He drew in a breath. Lifted his chin and met the Dark Lord's eyes.
Red eyes glinted back at him at the impertinence.
"It would be…rude –" the Dark Lord began; "- to show up to a wedding, without a gift. Wouldn't you say, Regulus?"
There was a stillness, a silence, a sense of dread in the air following what could only be a warning of something sinister to come.
The Dark Lord walked slowly behind the line of his handful of followers; the Death Eaters he had brought with him, only two of whom Regulus recognized by their masks.
Lucius. Bellatrix.
Severus wasn't there. Whether that was good or bad, Regulus was not quite sure.
One of the masked figures was shorter, only slightly taller than Malachi. The other only slightly taller than that.
The latter was the one the Dark Lord stopped beside; grasping them, suddenly by the back of the neck and throwing them to their knees on the ground.
There was a stir, an uncertainty among those present as to what was going on.
With a flick of his wand the Dark Lord tore the mask from the face of the person on the ground, revealing them to him.
Narcissa.
Her eyes met Regulus' from where she was on her knees.
Utterly resigned.
It took a millisecond for Regulus to realize what was about to happen.
"NO!"
"Sectumsempra!"
A swift slit across her throat.
She remained still a moment – her eyes still on his – until, slowly, the life in them slipped away.
Narcissa slumped forward onto the grass; dead.
For a moment there was only silence.
A silence as if no one present understood what had happened or why. Why the Dark Lord would turn up to Regulus Black's wedding and execute one of his own followers before him.
Of the remaining Death Eaters, only one of them broke ranks. Not her husband. Not her sister. None except one.
The shorter of them stumbled forward; "Mum?"
Regulus released the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and squeezed his eyes shut. As if that would make it stop.
Erase it all.
Draco tore his mask from his face – shellshocked and devastated – and fell to his knees at his mother's side; "Mum?"
"Draco. Get up."
Lucius' voice was cold, clipped.
"No," the Dark Lord said, red eyes entirely on Regulus' when he spoke; "Let him grieve."
"Mum."
Draco's sobs filled the air.
The Dark Lord stepped towards him and it was only then that Regulus realised his own hands were shaking, his breaths coming almost in gasps, as he kept his eyes on his cousin – another of his cousins – dead.
For him.
There was a low grumble of a laugh, as the Dark Lord eyed him.
"Running out of family members to hide behind, aren't we, Regulus?"
Regulus almost trembled where he stood, eyes still upon Narcissa.
"Three down….two to go."
Regulus met his eyes then.
The Dark Lord bared his teeth as if in a smile – a taunt – at the reference to those who remained.
Malachi.
Julia.
The Dark Lord lifted his chin, eyeing him.
"Give my best wishes…to the new Mrs. Black," the Dark Lord said with a sneer; "Perhaps next time…we shall make a little game of it. Indeed, have I not always told you – all of you who are mine – that you must share your playthings –" he got a smirk, that bared his teeth; " – Your brothers-in-arms would, I'm sure, love to have a taste of what has so enticed the head of the Noble and Most Ancient House to lower himself to crawl in the filth and the muck."
The Dark Lord gave a low grumble of mirth.
"I dearly anticipate making the acquaintance of your new mudblood bride."
Regulus shook his head: no.
No. No. No.
Never!
"Just take me now."
Regulus flicked his wand and the gate sprung open – "Regulus!" he heard Lily's voice behind him – and he stumbled beyond it, only stopping when he stood several feet beyond the wards and protections that protected the Foundation.
The Dark Lord had gone incredibly still.
His smile vanishing at Regulus' surrender.
The Dark Lord straightened up to his full height where he stood, eyeing Regulus down his nose – and Regulus could swear he could feel the disappointment, the fury radiating off him, as Regulus stood before him, giving himself up and ending the game they had played for so long – and then he sped towards him, reaching him in a flash.
Regulus almost flinched as the Dark Lord's face stopped millimeters from his.
Red, glinting eyes bore into his; his teeth bared once more in a snarl.
Regulus closed his eyes. Felt the tip of the Dark Lord wand upon the side of his face and a slow, slow drag of the tip – a sharp sting – as it cut him from temple to chin.
The Dark Lord lifted up the wand, as Regulus' eyes opened, holding it up between them and letting the blood – his blood – drip from the end of it.
And then he grabbed Regulus by the throat and his eyes bore into his once more and suddenly his vision was swimming and Regulus quickly did all he could to scramble up some occlumency barriers – the little he knew he could do – before Narcissa was before him.
"Defect. Build a Foundation to defy him and marry mud. Well, you keep living in your fantasies little cousin –"
It morphed, the memory, to one of Easter; of Malachi and Bella was before him, masked and ready to kill.
"Let him go and I'll come with you."
More flashes – all of Malachi – and they settled on Christmas.
"Right boys. These are your portkeys…if you do find the need to use them, don't wait for me."
"Same rule as always."
It morphed again – more of Malachi – and there he was.
"…there is good and there is light and I promise you, Malachi, you will see it and you will have the best life. I will make sure of it."
Regulus could feel his consciousness beginning to wane, as the hand on his neck tightened, and he reached up, grasping at the hand, unable to help but try and not die.
Julia was before him, then.
"Miss Bradbury. Are you asking me to run away with you?"
"I want you to open every door. And take every chance. I want you to live, Miss Bradbury."
The hand around his throat abruptly let go and Regulus fell to the ground, choking and coughing and gasping for breath, but he had barely caught it at all before the spell was cried out:
"Crucio!"
It hit him harder than he had ever felt it in years. Bella had nothing on the Dark Lord. And he screamed and writhed and screamed on the ground.
But it didn't last long.
Certainly not as long as he knew it ought to. Regulus knew the way the Dark Lord would torture and torment his victims before ultimately killing them. Cherishing the agony he inflicted; relishing every scream and every tear that he could draw from them, determined that he would get every last one.
And Regulus realized, a moment later, when the Dark Lord grasped him by the collar and yanked him back to his feet so they were once again eye level that that was exactly what the Dark Lord planned to do.
The words were breathed from the Dark Lord; a vow.
"You die last."
And with that simple – awful – statement, the Dark Lord released him, and he fell back to the ground.
The Dark Lord disapparated.
Bella followed, instantly; no pain or remorse whatsoever shown for the loss of her sister.
Regulus' eyes met Lucius' behind the mask he wore. Even with the mask, Regulus could feel the hatred roiling off of him as he stepped forward, pulling Draco aside, and lifting Narcissa into his arms.
"Come," he said, stiffly, to his son. And they disapparated.
Regulus lay there on the ground.
He heard the gate being flung open and Lily and Dora – Lupin close behind – hurried out; "Regulus!"
He pushed himself into a seated position just as they reached him and tried to hide the trembling of his hands by tucking them into his robes as he warily met their eyes.
Lily hesitated when she met his and he wondered what she could see.
Regulus looked away.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke; from grief or from guilt or from being choked, he didn't know.
"Get them out of here. Party's over."
It didn't take long to clear out the building.
The Ministry were contacted, and the homes were checked and secured, and everyone present were gone within an hour; Lily going to the house for the kids.
Regulus stayed behind.
Sat at one of the empty tables – all of which were still littered with full glasses of drinks and plates of food – and he tried not think. He tried not to do it.
But his eyes found the picture on the ballroom wall; the one of himself and Andie and Narcissa. And he was sickened as he looked at it; utterly ashamed that he should still be sitting here while they, his cousins, had perished for no reason other than that they had loved him.
"Hey."
Regulus looked up.
He got a frown when he realized who it was.
"Dora. I thought everyone was gone."
"Um. Yeah," she nodded; "Yeah. They are. We rounded them up. Checked the houses. But I…I wanted to come back. To talk to you."
Regulus nodded, slowly, before he indicated that she sit in the free chair next to him.
Dora sat down beside him. But she seemed hesitant – which she never was – as if she wasn't sure how to begin. And Regulus was in no mood for company. Not now. So, they simply sat in silence for a good minute, maybe more, before she finally said.
"I know what he was trying to do. And…I want you to know that… I don't blame you for what happened to my mum."
Regulus averted his eyes.
He swallowed hard at the undeserved forgiveness before he cleared his throat.
"Oh."
"I know we stayed away for a while. Dad and me. But…it wasn't that we didn't want to be with you or here. It's just…my mum really loved this place," Dora got a smile, a wistful one, in remembrance; "She was so proud of it, of what you two built. It was hard, just…being some place we knew she loved so much. But…she'd still be proud. Of this and of you. And…I'm proud that you're my cousin. I'm not afraid of what that means."
Regulus met her eyes. Touched even if he couldn't quite bear to hear it. He never could.
He forced a smile.
"Thank you, Dora."
There were footsteps, then, on the wooden flooring and they both looked in the direction of who had come.
Julia.
Regulus swallowed at the sight of her.
She was still in her wedding dress.
Still as beautiful, as perfect as the moment he had left her.
And Dora gave him a smile and got to her feet, leaving and passing Julia as she approached.
Regulus cleared his throat, getting to his feet before Julia could reach him, and his lifted his eyebrows, forcing a smile; "Well. Can't say we don't know how to throw a party, right, Mrs. Black?"
Mrs. Black.
He hated it.
He hated it.
She was Miss Bradbury.
"Regulus," Julia took his face in her hands, eyes finding his, and she shook her head; "Don't."
There was so much concern and relief and earnestness and love for him there in her eyes as she looked up at him that he couldn't bear it – he couldn't look – and he closed his own and pulled her close, burying his face into her shoulder just so he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.
He held her close, his arms tight around her.
It both helped and hurt.
And Regulus held back every urge he felt to break.
Julia Bradbury.
She had been perfect and pure and good; and she had had her whole life ahead of her and he had taken her and made her a Black.
How could he.
How could he.