Regulus paced his bedroom for nearly two hours wondering how much longer until Kreacher returned. He ordered the elf to do whatever it was The Dark Lord required and then come straight home. It was a long shot, he knew, but he hoped that would work - that the elf's magic was strong enough to bring him back, no matter what happened.

It couldn't be much longer, he thought.

His stomach turned, his palms were sweating and his mouth felt like sandpaper. Maybe it didn't work, he worried. Maybe Voldemort thought he would do just that - order Kreacher to return home, and found a way to prevent it. What if Regulus ordered Kreacher to his death? How could he live with himself if he had?

Regulus slowly sank down onto his bed and clasped his head in his hands. Each moment that passed brought more worry and more what ifs to his racing mind.

He needed a drink.

Regulus made his way down to the basement kitchen like a man who was sleepwalking. He was mildly aware of his surroundings, but everything felt clouded. Like he was in a thick fog. The only things that mattered to him were Kreacher's safe return and the bottle of Firewhiskey he had hidden behind some cleaning potions.

His mother did not think it dignified of a man of Regulus' status to indulge in the art of drinking as often as he had these last few months, so had taken to hiding bottles around the house. She didn't understand, he needed it. The less time he spent coherently in his mind, the better. There were too many dark places in there that he did not wish to visit. The alcohol graciously washed those away - at least for a few hours, until it brought on the sweet nirvana that had become as essential to his daily survival as the blood which pumped in and out of his bitter heart.

Sitting at the kitchen table, he poured his liquid sanity into a glass - he filled it to the top. With one gulp, he downed the drink and felt euphoric deliverance as the familiar burn slid down his throat. If anything had happened to Kreacher, he was now more prepared to deal with it.

A loud crack went off like a bang in the hallway; Regulus nearly fell out of his seat.

His heart hammered and he quickly grabbed his wand from the pocket of his trousers. He pointed it at the door of the kitchen, not sure who might have made their way into his home.

"Kreacher?" he called out.

No response.

He stood up and inched his way towards the door. Regulus cursed the creaking floor beneath his feet. If it was an unwanted visitor there, they would know he was mere feet away.

Leaning against the wall, next to the door, Regulus held his wand at the ready.

"Master Regulus," Kreacher said right before Regulus heard a thump which suggested Kreacher had fallen to the ground.

Regulus found a nearly unconscious Kreacher face down on the floor. He quickly scooped him up and brought him into the sitting room, where he conjured up a glass of water and a vile of Pepper-up potion. He held Kreacher like an infant and forced the water and a small amount of potion down his throat.

Regulus was sure his heartbeat could be heard throughout the room. Or maybe that was just the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

"Please be alright," he begged. "Come on, Kreacher. Open your eyes. Please," he whispered, his voice saturated in desperation.

For nearly ten minutes, Kreacher had barely stirred, until finally his eyes began to flutter. Regulus felt like a Hippogriff had been lifted from his chest. A smile broke out across his face and a single laugh espcaped his lips.

"Kreacher! Kreacher can you hear me?" he cried. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Kreacher… Kreacher came back," he mumbled sleepily. "Master Regulus… Master told - told Kreacher to come home. Kreacher came home." He attempted to sit up.

Regulus helped Kreacher to sit upright and propped him up with a pillow. He asked Kreacher what had happened and Kreacher explained everything. He told him about the cave, the underground lake and the locket. When he tried to explain the potion Voldemort had forced him to drink, Kreacher was unable to continue. He scrunched his eyes closed and shook his head back and forth.

"Kreacher cannot say! Kreacher cannot say!" he shouted.

"It's alright Kreacher," Regulus said softly. "You don't have to," he assured him.

A tear fell from Kreacher's eye and he nodded. "Thank you, Master Regulus," he whispered.

Regulus could see that Kreacher was in dire need of rest. The elf swayed on the spot and looked as if he were struggling to keep his eyes opened. He ordered Kreacher to get some rest. Kreacher thanked him once more and with a crack, he was gone.

It had to be a Horcrux, he thought as he made his way back into the kitchen and poured himself another drink. What else would Voldemort need to protect in such a way? There was no doubt in his mind that the locket Kreacher spoke of was a piece of The Dark Lord's soul - and it needed to be destroyed.

Regulus knew what he had to do.

There was a locket close to what Kreacher described sitting in a drawer in his room. It was a gift he had once given his ex. She had given it back to him after it had become clear that Regulus was involved with the Death Eaters. Just another thing he had lost to their cause.

He summoned the locket, a piece of paper and a quill, and wrote a note stating that he had figured out Voldemort's secret and that he woulddestroy the Horcrux - he signed only with his initials. He knew that there was a good chance that he would not make it out alive, but that didn't matter. It wasn't like he had much of a life to live anyhow.

He poured himself one more drink, sealed the locket and put his head down for a while - reflecting on his decisions and different paths he had taken in his short life. After what felt like hours, he snapped his fingers and called out for Kreacher. It was either now or never, he thought.

Kreacher appeared and he could tell the elf was worried about his rapidly declining appearance. He asked if Regulus was hungry, but he had a feeling Kreacher knew that was not the issue.

"No Kreacher, I'm not hungry," he smiled, though he knew it must have looked strained. "I need you to bring me somewhere."

ooo

All night he prepared for it, but now that it was here, Regulus lost a bit of his calm facade. Not that he was afraid to die - well maybe he was. Everyone is a least a little afraid of death, and if they say they are not, they're clearly lying; or just mad. It wasn't his fear which caused him to lose the cool demeanor he portrayed the entire evening, it was Kreacher's panic. He had to make sure that Kreacher would never utter a word of this to his family. Ever. It was for their protection. It would be best if his parents and Kreacher believed Regulus to be a loyal Death Eater, all the way to the end. Kreacher could not know why he was doing this, so he would not give him the thing Kreacher begged for - an explanation.

"Kreacher, listen to me!" he shook the elf's shoulders with more force than he intended. "Now this is an order."

Kreacher immediately stopped his screaming protests and became as still as a statue.

Regulus wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He reached into his pocket and took out the fake locket that he intended to switch the Horcrux with. His pulse was beating like a bass drum as he placed it in Kreacher's hand and closed his fist for him. Kreacher's eyes bulged, but he did not say a word.

"When I drink all of the contents of this basin – and you must make sure I do – you need to switch the lockets," he began to order. Kreacher started to shake his head. "Kreacher!" Regulus shouted. "You need to switch the lockets. And no matter what happens - You. Have. To. Go. Home."

Turning his back on Kreacher, he walked up to the basin, took out his wand and conjured a goblet to drink from. He drew a heaving breath, closed his eyes and repeated his mantra - everything would work out in the end. Kreacher and his family would be safe - they had to be.

"When you get home. Destroy the locket, Kreacher," he said before he began. "Do whatever you have to do to make sure that thing is destroyed. Do you understand?" his eyes pierced Kreacher's, just begging him to understand. Kreacher gave a stiff nod and sniffled. "And whatever you do, you cannot tell anyone what happened tonight. That is essential. No one. Got it?"

Kreacher hesitated for a moment and then nodded once more.

This was it, he thought and plunged the goblet into the emerald liquid that just begged to aid to his demise.

"Kreacher?" Regulus' voice hitched.

"Yes, Master Regulus," Kreacher said in a shaky voice.

He told himself he would not become sentimental, but the elf had to know how much he meant to him. It was the last gift he could give him.

"I just want you to know, that no matter what happens," he gulped. "you've always been my favorite."

Tears sprang from Kreacher's eyes and it was all Regulus could do to keep his own safely tucked away.

He raised the goblet to his lips and whispered sincerely, "I love you, Kreacher."

He took the first drink and Kreacher's sobs, along with his surroundings began to slowly fade.