Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. Everything belongs to JK Rowling, and I'm merely allowed to play around with them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Twenty chapters, and still going! Do I smell champagne? :)

Chapter 20

-o-O-o-

"No."

"Hermione, please..."

"No, Sirius!"

"Mary will be there too!"

"I don't care, Remus."

"I even managed to convince Lily!"

"Too bad for you, James."

"If she doesn't want to go, who are we to stop her..."

A chorus of "Shut up, Peter!" came up and Hermione sighed. This was getting complicated. She hated refusing something to the Marauders, especially since she temporarily lived with them, but that was an undisputable subject.

Pinching her nose, she concluded: "For the last time, I am not stopping you from going, but I am not stepping through the door to a nightclub!" Then, before they could argue some more, she turned around and left the room. What could she say? She just didn't want to be reminded of her timeline, and going there would be a perfect reminder of the Yule Ball, although the spirit of it would be much different.

She closed the door to her room and lay down on her bed. There wasn't much else she could do. Heaving a huge sigh, she thought about the one thing that had been plaguing her mind since she had last seen him six days ago. Regulus.

He'd been in her dreams, more than once. In fact, she'd had the same dream six times in a row, and it was starting to worry her...

It was night time. The man walked through the snow covered pavement of London, his feet crunching in the white ice. Left and right, people passed, nobody ever noticing him. He tightened his black cloak around himself as a particularly cold gust of wind hit, making his impossibly light grey eyes water. He passed a supermarket, which had a fake Santa Claus distributing candy to children and boasting about the special promotions they made for Christmas.

The man took one look at them and gave a slight smile. The fake Santa caught him watching and smiled, shouting at him; "Merry Christmas, my boy! Ho, ho, ho!"

The man waved and continued his path. "That's right, merry Christmas... It's my last, after all."

And on he walked, cars on his right never stopping to look at him twice, because the whole world was blissfully ignorant of his very existence. And, for some strange reason, he wouldn't have it any other way. He turned left suddenly, walking for a couple of meters until he arrived in a more open, but abandoned, space. He passed a rusty sign that read 'Grimmauld Place'.

As he approached Number 10, the earth started shaking and pushing two buildings apart from each other. The man, however, seemed unsurprised by this occurrence. Between the two shaking buildings appeared a third, one with a plaque on it that said: 'Number 12'.

The man entered Number 12, Grimmauld Place, without so much as a glance around to see if anyone was following him. As soon as the door closed behind him, a shrill voice called out: "Regulus! Is that you?"

Regulus cringed and replied: "Yes, mother! I'm home!"

A middle aged woman entered the room, a pair of glasses perched on her thin nose and a book in hand, indicating her previous activity. "Where have you been?" she asked stiffly.

He sighed. "I went to see Severus, I told you." he told her patiently.

She glared at him. "Don't speak to me in that tone. You could have Apparated and been home for supper. I had to eat alone! On Christmas night! What sort of family are we?"

"A broken one, ever since father has left us." he answered, and she didn't dare scold him. Instead, she huffed and returned to the room where she had come from, probably to return to her reading. Regulus took of his snow covered cloak and hanged it besides the door. He knew his mother wasn't mad at him. In fact, he was just stating facts, so she had nothing to scold him for.

Scratching his subtle, he started climbing up the stairs to him room. He smiled when his eyes came upon the familiar sight of his name plate on the door.

'Do not enter without the express permission of
Regulus Arcturus Black'

Shaking his head slightly, he pushed the door open. Unsurprisingly, his room was one of the cleanest of the house. Among his poster and pictures, there was a single Quidditch scarf. A red and gold one. Banishing a memory from surfacing, he looked to the floor, where what looked like a dirty cloth bundle lay.

"Kreacher?" he asked softly, kneeling down next to the bundle. It stirred and from its contents poked and ugly head, shrivelled and sporting two huge, bat like ears. It turned around and stared at Regulus with its disproportionate eyes, as if silently asking him what the matter was. "How are you feeling?" he finally asked.

"Much better, now that Master Regulus has looked after Kreacher." the elf replied, nodding softly. His voice wasn't croaky and he sounded well rested.

Regulus nodded. "Thank you Kreacher. Now, I'd like you to do something for me."

"Anything for Master Regulus." Kreacher replied, detangling himself from his bundle of clothes.

"Thank you. First, I'd like you to promise me you won't tell any of this to my mother." Regulus asked.

Kreacher gasped. "Not tell my Mistress? But she would kill Kreacher if she ever found out about that!" He shook his head. "No. Kreacher won't do it."

"But she won't find out," Regulus tried to reason. "If you don't tell her. I swear I won't tell her, Kreacher."

The elf gulped down. "Kreacher..." he croaked, as if these words were eliciting a huge amount of pain from him. "Kreacher won't tell." he gave in at last.

Regulus nodded. "Good. Now I want you to take me to the place where the Dark Lord made you drink the potion."

At first, the elf looked terrified, but upon meeting his master's soothing gaze, he nodded again. "Let us go, then." He took the man's hand and asked: "At the entrance or directly on the island, Master Regulus?"

He gulped. "Directly on the island, please." He was squished in the now, familiar rubber tube for a couple of seconds until his feet hit the ground. He looked around and saw... Nothing. The cave he was in was absolutely pitch black.

"We have arrived, Master Regulus." the elf said, letting go of his hand. Regulus heard Kreacher snap his fingers and, instantly, a ball of white light appeared, illuminating the cave. He was indeed standing in the middle of an island, the huge rock surrounded by murky water. The stone walls around the lake seemed damp, at first sight, but what really caught his eye was the bowl of potion sitting in the middle of the island. He approached it slowly, somehow dreading what he will find there. The liquid in it was green and opaque; making it impossible to be sure what was sitting at the bottom. The glow it emitted was somehow sickly, and made him want to retch.

Turning back to his House elf, he said quietly: "Kreacher, what happens here must never reach the Dark Lord's ears; if he were to find out, he would kill you and my mother, do you understand?" The elf nodded. Regulus inhaled and exhaled deeply, before continuing: "I am going to drink the potion. You are to keep me drinking, no matter what I tell you. Once the bowl will be empty, you will take the locket at the bottom and switch it," he pulled a golden replica from his pocket and placed it in Kreacher's hands. "With this one. Then you will leave, and never come back."

"But what about my master?" the elf croaked, probably dreading the answer.

"You are to leave me behind. After this, my life is of little value." he admitted bluntly. "You are not to tell my mother what happened. Ever. I want her to die ignorant. You are to hide the locket from her too, and you must destroy it." The elf nodded reluctantly again. "Now," Regulus said gravely. "A glass."

With another snap of his fingers, Kreacher handed his master a carved crystal glass, which he dipped in the foul potion. He held it at his lips, before pushing it away, at sad twinkle in his eye.

"One last thing." he said, staring directly at the wall in front of him. "If you see Hermione... Wish her a merry Christmas from me."

And, brushing a single tear he should never have shed, he tipped the glass back and swallowed a mouthful.

Hermione's head jerked up from her pillow, and she gasped. Seven times in a row! And this wasn't even at night! She took a sideways glance to her alarm clock. It was barely seven PM.

She groaned, just as a knock came on her door. "Hermione?" she heard Sirius ask. "Are you sure you don't want to come? I mean, we're leaving in half an hour, so..."

She stood up and went to open the door. Sirius was standing there, his hair wet, as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. His black shirt was half open, giving her a good view of his muscular chest. Realising she was staring, she shook her head and looked away. "I…" she tried, preparing to refuse the offer once more. But then something lit up in her mind. "Oh, fuck it." she muttered. "Wait for me, I'm gonna get ready."

She closed the door, the last thing she saw being Sirius' confused but happy look as she went to scan her wardrobe for something to wear.

-o-O-o-

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't."

"Believe me, I do."

Severus sighed. "Regulus, if you truly hated me, you would have left me alone in the middle of the street right now. And instead, you're just insulting me because you're too proud to admit that you actually want to go to this nightclub." He turned around to see Regulus answer him, but the young man was simply glaring at his shiny pair of shoes as if it was all there fault.

"I'm just too polite to refuse you." he tried.

Severus laughed as the pair rounded a corner. "Telling your mother you were going to a party organised by the Dark Lord while you're actually sneaking out of it to hang out with me is not polite, believe me. You could have stayed there and drink all night… Although you seemed eager to escape Rosier's embrace."

Regulus shuddered. "I though her brother's breath was horrible, but that… Gah! It was plain appalling!"

Severus snickered. "Are you sure it's her breath?"

Regulus turned to him, a puzzled look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know perfectly well what I mean." Severus snickered again. "I was wondering… You used to have it your way with the witches… And since the beginning of the school year, you've turned every single one of them down… Why's that?"

Regulus mumbled something inaudible.

Severus was still smirking, as the music from the club started to reach their ears. "I think that you no longer like witches. Are you attracted to something… A bit more male, perhaps?"

Regulus' head snapped up so fast it was a miracle his neck didn't break. "Uh?" he asked, before bursting into loud laughter. "No." ha said after a while. "It's not that. It's not that at all."

"Oh really?" Severus asked, tilting his head to the side. "I'm afraid I'm having some trouble believing you.

"Whatever." Regulus said as the door opened up to let them pass. The club's dance floor was packed with people dancing with high proximity, girls in short dresses and men in suits, all that forming a weird melting pot.

The two friends headed towards the bar, sitting down on a high chair before resuming their conversation. "If it's not wizards, then what keeps you from doing dirt like you used to?" Severus yelled in Regulus' ear, over the loud boom of the music.

"I don't want to tell you!" he answered, grabbing a glass of Label 5 the barman had sent his way.

Severus watched his friend down his first glass as his eyes skimmed over the dance floor. "Please, tell me. I'm curious." he tried.

Regulus sighed as a small brunette in a strapless grey dress stepped out and sat next to him. He gave up and turned back towards the elder man. "Fine, it's-"

"Regulus?" a voice behind him asked. "Is that you?"

He froze mid sentence and turned around to face the pretty brunette who had sat down a couple of seconds earlier. Despite the make up and the sleek hair, he recognised her instantly. He gulped down. "Hermione."

-o-O-o-

Happy New Year! Please review, I love it when you do! :)