Regulus entered the dark unknown with cautious steps as Kreacher whimpered behind him. Other than the sphere of dim light surrounding the pair, everything looked as if it were smothered in the blackest ink. Water could be heard dripping in a staccatoed rhythm in the distance, their warm breath fogged out in front of them, almost taunting him; each cloud he exhaled reminded him that those breaths were numbered. The thought only intensified with the sour, rotting smell of death that assaulted his nostrils. Regulus felt a chill in his heart which had nothing to do with the temperature.

Kreacher sniffled behind him; Regulus was disgusted with himself for putting the elf through this once more, but he had to do what he sought out to accomplish. The Dark Lord must be stopped.

"S-sir?" Kreacher broke into his concentration and pulled at the hem of his cloak.

Regulus turned and lit Kreacher's face with his wand. He had to admit, the dark shadows under Kreacher's eyes made him look quite sinister - it fit the mood perfectly. Nevertheless, Regulus waited patiently for him to continue.

"Sir. There is a b-b-boat, Master Regulus." Kreacher stopped, looked up - his pupils dilated in fear, and gulped. "Kreacher kn-nows the way," he croaked.

Motioning for Kreacher to go forward, Regulus surprised himself once more with just how unaffected by their surroundings he sounded when he spoke. "Please. Lead the way, Kreacher."

As they travelled on Kreacher warned him to avoid the water at all costs. There was something about that underground lake that left him feeling uneasy. It was like the eye of a storm; calm for now, but sure to destroy every living thing near it at any moment - without warning.

Regulus lowered his wand and tried to see what was lying beneath the glass-like surface, but saw nothing except his pale reflection. As he stared into his own emotionless eyes, he drew a deep breath and silently told himself that it would all work out in the end. This would be his greatest and final act.

This was something that would benefit all Wizards and Witches throughout Britain - the world maybe. From the moment he figured out the Dark Lord's most closely guarded secret, he knew what he had to do. Voldemort had many secrets, that was true, but none were as detrimental to himand his cause as this one - His Horcrux.

ooo

This was it! Regulus thought. This was his chance, he could feel it! The Dark Lord required an elf for a service, and Regulus strongly suspected what that was.

Recently Voldemort had been boasting of perfecting magic mere mortals would not dare attempt, not even in their wildest nightmares. Magic which would make him more than man; it would make him indestructible - a god, he declared. From the way He spoke, Regulus had figured out exactly what Voldemort had done. There were many books in his childhood home; books which contained the darkest and most foul magic known to Wizardkind. He had read of Horcruxes his sixth year and he was positive that was what The Dark Lord had attempted and succeeded to make. If it was true - and Regulus' gut told him it was, Voldemort would not be stopped. Regulus could not let that happen.

Carefully guarding his thoughts, he stepped up in front of Voldemort, his eyes cast down, and bowed respectfully.

"My Lord?" he whispered, not daring to look up until he was told.

"Ah, what is this?" Voldemort asked, though Regulus knew better than to answer.

Most of The Dark Lord's musing questions were not intended to be answered. Regulus waited and felt Voldemort begin to circle him like the predator he was, assessing his prey.

Voldemort laughed, although it lacked humor. It was like ice. "Speak, Black," he ordered, his voice as sharp as broken glass.

Still with his eyes focused on the hardwood floor beneath his feet, he answered. "My Lord. I wish to offer you my family's elf, Kreacher. He is of the most loyal, most obedient, most-"

"That will do," Voldemort stopped him.

It was silent for a heartbeat.

"Look at me," he ordered. Regulus immediately obeyed and his grey eyes met Voldemort's red ones.

Regulus felt Voldemort attempt to penetrate his thoughts. He knew that he could not block him out completely - doing so would suggest he had something to hide and would undoubtedly result in his death; he was sure of that.

Instead, he pushed only certain thoughts to the forefront of his mind. Kreacher parroting his parents' beliefs. Kreacher serving Bellatrix - Voldemort's number one follower - without complaint and obvious affection in his eyes. Kreacher offering to poison Sirius' supper for befriending Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors.

Voldemort's mouth contorted into what Regulus assumed was supposed to be a smile. It was grotesque.

"Bring him to me," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Tonight. By midnight."

Regulus bowed once again. "As you wish, my Lord."

He hoped that Kreacher would forgive him. He had a strong suspicion that his beloved friend was in for a very rough night.

ooo

Regulus watched in amazement as Kreacher stood at the edge of the water grasping into thin air. Suddenly a old, rusty chain exploded like thunder from the water - causing him to jump in shock - and landed in Kreacher's outstretched hands.

Kreacher struggled while tugging the chain; he grunted and slipped to the ground with a soft thud. Regulus did not hesitate and ran over to help. He lifted Kreacher then wrapped the filthy, cold metal around his hands and began to pull.

There was something massive at the end of this chain. He assumed it must had been the boat in which Kreacher advised him they would need to reach their destination.

Regulus pulled and pulled until finally something began to happen. The water started to bubble, about fifteen feet out from the shore; he also heard a splash, as if a fish flopped out of the water and quickly dove back in. The chill that washed over him at the sound suggested what her heard was most likely more sinister than any aquatic life that could be living in that lake.

The grating sound of metal bending filled the cavernous area right before he saw it. A giant green, wooden mast, with a bone white skull perched on the top, first poked its way above the surface. Next the bow made its appearance and then, with one more final tug, the rest of Voldemort's boat was floating atop black waves.

As it slowly sailed its way towards them, it seemed Kreacher's resolve had finally broken. Tiny balled up fists clenched at Regulus' robes. Kreacher buried his face into Regulus' stomach and sobbed.

"Kreacher cannot! Kreacher cannot allow Master Regulus! He won't!" he shrieked.

Another soft splash was heard in the distance.

If anything was left of his heart at that point, it was broken upon hearing Kreacher's strangled protests. No one had ever cared for Regulus as much as the small creature who was coming undone before him. A tear escaped Regulus' eye as he pried Kreacher from him and knelt down to reach his eye level.

"Kreacher," he said. "Listen to me. Everything will be alright," he lied.

Kreacher's head whipped back and forth. "No!"

Regulus inhaled like it was the last breath he would ever take. He gripped Kreacher's arms and looked him straight in his watery, bulging eyes.

"It will," he tried to convince him. Kreacher shook his head once more. Regulus almost cracked a smile at the elf's stubbornness. "Have I ever lied to you?" he smirked.