Hello again everyone! I'm very sorry for that unplanned hiatus, so let's try this again, shall we? I'm sorry the chapter is so short, but if everything goes according to plan, next one should be nice and long! Thank you so much for being so patient - you are the best readers an author could wish for.
Special thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: lizyeh2000, Nikoo, Serelena, Cae-Leigh Anne, Nik1804, Saum the Smol Teddy, Eliza Rose, One Smart Waffle, Wikked and SecretFruits.
Thank you also to everyone who wished me well. I got a little choked up; I was expecting you to be angry with me, and instead you were all so sweet; it really meant a lot: Onlyinitforthestories2, , Saum the Smol Teddy, , C.B. Weasley, Nikoo, Slytherin Buttercat, obscurialdefenseclub, 16-ajmera-d, Livi, Wikked, minterria, Nik1804, xxxQueenxxx and SecretFruits.
Please enjoy, and I hope it's up to usual standards!
Regulus slipped out of the back door, unnoticed by the two women of the household. Walburga had cornered Emma about wedding planning, and had made it perfectly clear to him the night before that she wanted some time alone with her future daughter-in-law.
If he hadn't known how much his mother doted on his fiancé, he might have been worried, but as it was he felt perfectly justified in leaving Emma in his mother's manicured hands. Besides, it would be nice for Emma to deal with something other than the Dark Lord for once.
At least, that was what Regulus told himself as he Apparated to Darlington, a small town not far from Durham. Still, as he stopped in front of an ordinary, two bedroomed house, with a small front garden and a gate falling into disrepair, he felt a twinge of guilt at concealing his activities.
It's for the best, he told himself, pressing the doorbell, and putting his hands in his pockets.
Soon it was opened by a man in his fifties, his hair going bald at the top, his beard scruffy and streaked with grey. He frowned as he looked at Regulus.
'Who are you?' he asked, and Regulus had expected his voice to be gruff, but instead it was quiet, understated.
'My father grew up with you,' Regulus stated, deciding it was best if he stuck with the same backstory for everyone having known Tom Riddle in his youth. 'Billy Stubbs, isn't it?'
'Yes,' Billy replied, phrasing it as a question.
'My father recently passed away, and I was going through some old photos of his,' Regulus pressed on, trying his best to look concerned. He had never been good at faking facial expressions. Maybe it had been a mistake not to bring Emma along. 'There were quite a few of the two of you together - would you mind if I came in?'
Without waiting for a proper response, Regulus slipped through the doorway and into the house. From what he had found out about Billy Stubbs, he was someone who was always afraid of saying no. But Regulus had the feeling that if he had mentioned Tom Riddle's name in the street, Billy's door would be closed to him forever.
He looked around, noticing the pictures of children lining the staircase, the fact that the hallway carpet was torn and stained, and the untidiness of the kitchen beyond.
'You have children of your own?' Regulus asked, motioning towards the pictures. 'How old are they now?'
Billy's eyes softened as they landed on the portrait of a girl in her teens. 'Fifteen and seventeen respectively. Not too far off your own age, I should think.'
'Yes, I'm seventeen now,' Regulus replied thoughtfully. 'Nearly eighteen.' He felt older. 'Where are they now?'
'With their mother,' Billy's face twisted into a frown, and Regulus refrained from commenting further. After a slight pause, Billy gestured for Regulus to enter the living room. 'Tea? I just boiled the water.'
'Yes, please,' Regulus replied, picking his way through the mass of objects littering the floor to the relatively clean sofa. 'Milk, no sugar.'
He waited patiently for a few minutes, listening to the man bustling around the kitchen as he tried to ignore the improbability of his situation
'Whose son did you say you were?' Billy asked, walking into the room with two carefully balanced mugs.
'Tom's,' Regulus replied, keeping his face blank as he turned to his unwilling host. 'Tom Riddle's.'
When Emma woke, Regulus was gone. There was a note neatly placed on his pillow, though in her sleep she'd rumpled the half of the duvet he'd made up on his end. Blearily, she rubbed her eyes and read.
Dear fiancée,
My mother has made it clear to me that I am to make myself scarce this morning whilst you enjoy some quality time together. Expect tea, scones, and debate over whether ivory white or eggshell best suits your complexion. Try not to kill her, and if you ever feel the urge, just remember that one more moment spent with her is one moment closer to when we can be wed.
Yours soon to be forever,
R.A.B
Smiling, she buried herself under the fluffy white covers for a moment. Was this what her life would have been without the war? Would she and Regulus have been so close? Would Lucinda and Rabastan still be their friends? They had only been brought together through circumstance, after all. It had taken a while for Lucinda and herself to open up to each other.
Despite the atrocities that she had witnessed - at others' hands and at her own, Emma couldn't help but feel partially glad for the war. If only James hadn't been on the other side of it… but then again, without James, would she have realised that she was on the wrong side?
Pushing her questions away for another day, or better yet, for Regulus to debate over as he so loved to, Emma pushed herself out of bed with a groan. As much as she loved her boyfriend, she couldn't help but dread the coming brunch.
The porcelain hit the floor within moments, hot tea soaking the carpet.
'No, it can't be,' Billy stuttered, stepping back as Regulus moved to pick up the pieces. 'Tom… he wouldn't… he couldn't…'
Regulus twisted his mouth into a sneer. Emma could always turn her emotions to her advantage. He imagined himself as Sirius, imagined hating his family so much that the very air he breathed seemed polluted. 'I knew that you would turn me away if I told you the truth,' he said quietly. 'I… I need to know. What made him the way he was? What made him treat my brother and I so…'
He let the sentence trail off, and as he looked back at Billy, he made himself stare deep into the man's eyes, deep into his soul. All too soon, he was submerged within the memories. A rabbit, hanging by its tail by the rafter. A face, all too handsome and all too cold, the hint of a smile upon its lips as Tom Riddle took everything that was dear to the other children. A trip to the seaside that would scar them for life. The pale face of a thirteen year old girl, whispering about the cave above a green lake that would haunt her until she was taken to a different type of orphanage, one that you didn't leave when you reached eighteen.
Suddenly, Regulus resurfaced, blinking rapidly as the broken teacup slipped from his grasp. Billy Stubbs was as white as the ghost of a girl Regulus had seen in his memories, and the look of pure horror on his face stopped Regulus's thoughts in their tracks.
'You… you're just like him,' the man choked out. 'Get away from me. Get out of my house!'
Regulus fled.
'-and I was thinking we could host it at the Rosiers' in France, nothing here is quite as nice as Malfoy Manor and we want this to be special, don't we?' Walburga said, her voice as soft and breathless as her flowery perfume as Emma took a bite of the fourteenth vanilla cake of the day.
'Mmmhmm,' Emma replied, wondering if Walburga had secretly used a refilling charm on her plate. She wouldn't put it past the woman.
In actual fact, she was wishing she'd had the foresight to bring Lucinda. She understood the importance of appearances, but the difference between lacy white napkins and cream doilies with dentelle was lost on her. They had gone through sixteen sets of antique silver goblets, but luckily Emma had thought to show her excitement for the first lot of silverware, so they hadn't inspected as many brands of goblin-made knives.
You could arm an army of garden gnomes with these, she thought, examining her reflection in one. A sudden wave of homesickness overcame her as she remembered her snowball fights with the Bowtruckle in Godric's Hollow. The cherry tree would be in full bloom now, blowing petals across the Quidditch pitch.
Five knocks rapped on the door in quick succession, cutting Walburga off and startling Emma into full consciousness, nearly making her drop her knife in the process.
'I'll get that,' she said immediately, ignoring Walburga's protests that it was Kreacher's job.
Practically racing to the door, she wrenched it open to find Lucinda.
'Merlin's beard, must have heard my prayers,' she said in relief, grinning broadly at her friend.
Lucinda frowned, her blue eyes creasing, and Emma's smile faded.
'What happened?'
'Nothing bad on our side,' Lucinda said, drawing out the words in preparation of the second half of her sentence. 'But you might want to find Barty before anyone else does. Rabastan… Well, let's just say that Rabastan heard that Fenwick has become a liability.'
Everyone knew what a liability meant in the Dark Lord's books. And Barty would know exactly who to blame.
'I'll go right now,' Emma replied, stepping back and unhooking her coat in the hall. Glancing back, she groaned. 'I can't. We're halfway through wedding planning with Walburga and Regulus will kill me if I disappoint her. She's finally found something to smile about after what happened to his father and-'
'Say no more,' Lucinda replied with a wave of her hand. 'I'm on it. I heard that it's the new trend to surprise both bride and groom now - the bride with the décor and the groom with the dress. Go, deal with your stuff. Walburga is one battle that I'm better equipped at dealing with.'
'Thank you Lucy,' Emma replied, trying to convey her gratitude through her expression. 'I really owe you one.'
'Just make sure that Barty doesn't murder someone.'
It was likely easier said than done.
It was late afternoon by the time Regulus found the infamous seaside town, walking across the cliffside until he was met with the sight pulled from Billy's memory. The sea was choppy here, roiling waves that struck the cliffs with such force that he felt the salty spray on his cheek. As he approached the ridge, he noticed a ledge further below, barely inches above the sea, and intuitively realised that he had to get down there to find the entrance to the Dark Lord's cave.
He knelt down to examine the cliff face. There were handholes there, ones that he supposed Tom Riddle would have used to discover the cave, but they had worn away with time and the elements, and now he almost turned back to tell Emma of his findings. Going together would be safer, he knew that logically, and yet he was reluctant to bring her. He remembered her getting caught in the blast of the last raid, the Dark Lord himself having to heal her, and how his Occlumency shields had nearly shattered at the ensuing onslaught. She had always been the quicker thinker, better at Healing charms. It was better if he were the one to be damaged, to need her when the time came.
Besides, he reasoned, I don't even know if anything's there. I'm basing my search on the fragments of a tormented boy's memory and the stories of a lady old enough to be my grandmother.
No. He would not bring Emma into this until he had proof.
The rocks were jagged and slippery, and he cut his hand more than once as he scaled down to the ledge, the warm wind drying out his shirt almost as soon as the larger waves reached out to touch it when he came into reach. By the time he reached the bottom, he was wishing that he had brought some Quidditch gloves, or even just his broom.
I wouldn't have risked losing my broom to the treacherous water anyway, he told himself as he healed the cuts, watching them patch up into jagged scars that crisscrossed his once smooth palms.
Shielding his eyes from the setting sun's glare, he squinted at the cliff face. A little further along, there was a large but thin triangular gap, seemingly swallowing the sea into the darkness.
With the muffled cries of hysterical laughter that should have died fifty years ago ringing in his ears, Regulus dove into the abyss.