Fic - Brotherhood - Regulus, Severus - PG13
TITLE: Brotherhood
AUTHOR: serpentpixie
CHARACTERS: Regulus, Severus
PROMPT: Regulus realises he has to die in order to steal the horcruxes. Written originally for hp_angstfest
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 3260
BROTHERHOOD
“The crest and crowning of all good,
Life’s final star, is Brotherhood.”
Edwin Markham (1852-1940)
1. Initiation
“Tonight, my children,” Lord Voldemort’s wand twirled idly in his hand as his voice held the rapt silence in his command. “Tonight, we initiate a reformed soul.”
Regulus observed carefully from his position, concealed alone behind a crumbling statue. His hand moved with a slow, precise movement, adjusting his already perfectly hung robes. He resisted the urge to scratch fiercely at the skin on his arms; the heavy black cloth was uncomfortably warm in the summer air.
“Tonight,” Voldemort said again, “We welcome another wanderer home.”
Severus, Regulus noticed, was standing beside Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy’s legacy had been one that had haunted the dormitories of the younger Slytherins. He was one to be remembered. Severus must have been raised in The Dark Lord’s esteem. This was not a surprise: Severus’ legacy (though he hadn’t known it) was almost as great as Malfoy’s.
“Step forward, Child!” Lord Voldemort had probably spoken these words too many times to count.
Regulus followed his feet into the circle. Blank white faces shone in the moonlight, observing his nervous steps. He could only recognise them as individuals by their unified stony gaze. Severus’ eyes met his for only a moment. Neither could maintain the contact.
He wondered if his presence at school would be missed. He was doubtful - the feast would occupy most of the students. What a life, he thought, to have one’s mind consumed by such mundane thoughts.
“You have passed the tests of loyalty, courage and trust placed before you.” Lord Voldemort held his wand up, casting a peculiar light across the intimate circle.
Tests? The only missions on which he had been sent were all botched in a most spectacular fashion. Surely the Dark Lord could not be referring to those? Yet here he stood - accepted. He would have to thank Severus later for saving his skin more times than was called for.
“You returned to the fold every time,” Voldemort said into his ear. “You did not flee in fear or weakness, but came back home. Your soul is whole and pure.”
For some reason, the idea of his soul being pure forced a shiver through his body. He was unnerved, though admittedly relieved.
Was Severus angry that he’d forced him to kill? Regulus suppressed this haunting thought as soon as it occurred. It was his duty to kill. He was a fool to forget it.
“Fool indeed, young Black,” the Dark Lord said, with a smirk that might have been genuine amusement. “You’ll learn.”
Regulus made a strange half nod, half bow, quite uncertain of the correct response. He wished he knew this etiquette well enough to be comfortable.
“We are unified,” Voldemort said. “We are brothers and we guide each other as brothers ought.”
Ought. Ought isn’t always as brothers do, though. Regulus knew that far too well.
“Are you ready to join our Brotherhood?”
* * * * *
Severus walked beside him to the gates. Regulus did not know what to say, so he merely took pride in the company he kept.
“We are a brotherhood,” Severus said, as their footsteps drew them closer to the castle.
“A family united,” Regulus echoed, staring upwards as he walked to face the sky.
“Never forget it.” Severus left him at the entrance of the school - one swift turn and he was gone. Regulus rolled down the sleeves of his school robes and swept up the road through a vacant silence.
2. Etiquette
Regulus sipped carefully from his silver goblet, barely allowing the wine to touch his lips. He did not much care for the taste of his uncle's homemade wine, though of course he would never say this - particularly since the one time he had confessed his preference for firewhiskey, his parents had laughed and told him that he'd grow up soon enough. He hadn't got the firewhiskey.
"Has your uncle replied yet?" Walburga enquired, setting her fork down for a moment and lifting her own goblet. She didn’t drink, but instead held the wine half way between the table and her mouth as she fixed her son with a hard stare. Regulus shook his head, a motion that earned him a sudden infuriated look from his father.
"Sorry," he said, quickly swallowing a mouthful of food. "No, I haven't heard anything."
He could see the family tapestry hung proudly on the wall; it’s neat gold thread glinting slightly in the candlelight. He almost heard his childhood tutor repeating those fated phrases: ‘Family is of the utmost importance. Through our descendants we are immortal.’ He’d hated those words, written out repeatedly for apparently ceaseless hours.
"Maybe I should write," Orion looked directly at his son. Regulus shifted very slightly; he had to try hard not to openly squirm.
"No need, father," he said lightly. The truth was, he had never sent Cygnus a letter in the first place. "I'll send Falco."
“Is that owl reliable?” Walburga asked, coldly.
“Falco will be fine, mother,” Regulus replied, almost too quickly. It was lucky his mother hadn’t noticed his haste; she had instead blasted a fly with her wand, causing it to vanish in a burst of flame. “If I don’t have a reply within a week, then I will visit Cygnus myself.”
“The wine industry is a good one in which to make a living,” Orion stated, without looking up.
“So you’ve said.”
“Don’t be rude,” Walburga snapped. Regulus gritted his teeth but remained silent. He had learned a long time ago that apologising would be a highly foolish thing to do.
“It’s a family business,” Orion continued as though no other words had been spoken. “I trust you need no education in your duties towards your blood.”
“No, father,” Regulus said. He lifted his fork again - the food was cold. Regulus himself was cold.
Somehow, he thought, he had to get away from their constant scrutiny. Sirius, it seemed (though a fool for his methods), was not a complete imbecile.
He thought of his fellow Death Eaters. He still felt inches taller whenever he considered his position among such a coveted brotherhood, his veins flooded with a feeling of intense warmth. Somehow he had found acceptance; all he had to do was wait to be called.
3. Questions
Regulus crept forwards on his hands and knees, hauling his shaking body up to the window. His palms were sweating. Severus, several feet behind him appeared deadly calm, casting a swift concealment charm over them both. Being rendered invisible was not a sensation that Regulus took much pleasure in.
A sudden noise nearly sent him flying backwards with shock - his left hand fumbled in his robes, its sweaty palm closing on his only means of defence. Severus was there in a moment, one cold hand placed firmly on Regulus’ unsteady one. He vaguely recognised the sound, an eerily familiar laugh, which came again from inside the room. Squinting, Regulus could see the smiling face of his brother, leaning back in his chair and sipping from a silver goblet.
“You’re awful, Sirius!” another man appeared, pulling up a chair opposite Sirius. Regulus thought he recognised the face, although he couldn’t place a name to him. To his left Severus stiffened slightly.
Sirius shrugged, “he deserved it.” He flicked his wand idly at a fly, which buzzed into the fireplace and crisped instantly. Regulus shivered again.
“Who’s that?” he whispered to Severus. Severus shook his head sharply. Regulus did not ask any more questions. Inside the two men continued to discuss an apparently trivial matter.
“Seriously,” the man-who-wasn’t-Sirius was saying with a graceful smirk, “You’ll drive him to the dark side.”
Sirius laughed. Regulus very nearly smiled at this; Sirius’ laugh had been cause for some severe mocking when they were children. “Imagine!” Sirius said, “Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater extraordinaire!”
“Lord Wormtail. The next nameless Dark Enemy.”
“Remus!” A woman walked into the room. Regulus recognised her immediately as Minerva McGonagall. Sirius hurriedly removed his feet from the table and put down his goblet. The man called Remus (Regulus remembered now - a peculiar taciturn boy) jumped about a foot in the air.
“Sorry, Professor…” he gibbered.
Both Sirius and Minerva smirked. Regulus felt Severus tense slightly beside him. He tried to return to focussing on the room. A fine thing it’d be if he botched this job, since the chances of being able to return were slim. Peter at least was securely inside, though Regulus had doubts about how much he was trusted, given his level of intelligence.
“I think it’s time you went to bed,” Minerva said, firmly. She picked up the half empty wine bottle from the table and placed it in a cupboard out of sight. The man named Remus nodded and left. As he passed, Minerva said, “You’ll be woken at four.”
Sirius began clearing the kitchen from where he sat, flicking his wand casually at various objects. Minerva was pulling on a light cloak.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, heading towards the door.
“Minerva,” Sirius’ voice caused the woman to pause. “Take care.”
Minerva was silent for a moment, before replying with more than just a touch of sarcasm, “I do believe you’d miss me if I died. You’d be terribly lost.”
Sirius smiled softly and Minerva exited. Moments later she strode from the front door of the headquarters, vanishing into the night air. The two men, who had ducked down behind a bush (a slightly foolish response, given that they were invisible, Regulus thought later), crept silently away from the small building.
“Waste of a night,” Severus spat, as they walked down the deserted road.
“We missed the meeting then…” Regulus’ statement earned him a patronising glare.
“I do hope Peter gleaned us some information,” Severus said, coldly. “Otherwise we’re both in for a tough night.”
Regulus didn’t answer - his mind was too busy contemplating the expression on Sirius’ face when he had smiled at Lupin. The whole evening had made him edgy, though he didn’t quite know why. Sirius, it seemed, always had everything better.
In any case, he thought later that night, it wasn’t a complete waste. They had a spy placed right in the midst of the Order and he wasn’t even suspected. Hopefully, his Master had said when they reported back, they would be able to crack their opponents from within.
The thing was, Regulus thought, he wasn’t so sure that his own brotherhood was infallible.
4. Truth
The child had long since ceased screaming. Instead, the sound it made was something of a helpless gurgle. Not quite sane anymore, Regulus thought, but then promptly decided he ought to stop thinking.
“End it,” he said to Severus, whose wand was trained on the child.
It’s only a Muggle, he thought firmly, as Severus nodded once and raised his wand. It isn’t human. The child’s unsteady panting echoed in the small room, sounding more akin to a distressed animal than a human child. That’s it, Regulus thought - it was only a beast.
Severus’ killing curse forced it’s breath to cease quite suddenly. Everything was silent, the chaos illuminated in a cold, green light. The two men turned with an almost simultaneous grace, appearing together on a road some hundred and fifty miles away.
“Shall we stop for a drink?” Severus asked, gesturing at the Hog’s Head, outside which they now stood. Regulus said nothing, but kept his mouth clenched shut for fear of becoming reacquainted with his breakfast.
“Two double firewhiskey’s please,” Severus said firmly to the barman, having ushered Regulus swiftly into an unoccupied, dusty chair.
They drank in silence, observing the comings and goings of various witches and wizards. Regulus was particularly amused by a young woman attired in enough shawls to give Hogwarts Castle its very own blanket. Under normal circumstances this woman would be subject to a considerable level of ridicule, however he didn’t feel he had the energy to engage in such behaviour.
“Do you ever get used to it?” Regulus asked, when he had finally managed to calm down enough to engage in coherent conversation.
“Killing?” Severus asked. Regulus nodded. “There’s a theory,” Severus said, carefully, “that we are trying to change the world.”
“Revolution,” Regulus proclaimed, with a bittersweet smirk.
“Of a sort,” Severus replied, “How many ‘Dark Lords’ have been murdered across the centuries?”
Regulus shrugged. “Enough that I can’t remember,” he quipped.
Severus narrowed his eyes. “So who lived to pass on the tale?” he asked.
Regulus stared at the older man.
“It’s obvious isn’t it?” Severus said, lightly. “All an individual can do is survive, by whatever means they can. Then we’re a hero to someone in the future, if not one now. It’s the survivors who change the world.”
Regulus was on the verge of making a swift remark regarding Severus’ Hogwarts house, but the chance never came. Behind him at that very moment the door to the pub was pulled open.
“Look!” Severus was suddenly alert. Regulus turned towards the door as it slammed, having just admitted a distinctive cloaked figure.
“What’s he up to?” Regulus said softly to his companion. Severus shook his head slightly. The two men watched as he approached the woman with the shawls.
“Headmaster,” she greeted him; her tone was childish and soft. It set Regulus’ teeth on edge; Bella used to speak like that.
Dumbledore nodded in her direction and they disappeared through the small door that led upstairs. Regulus’ eyes snapped to Severus’ searching for permission to move. Severus, however, was already half way across the room. Regulus was swift to follow.
He never reached the room in time to know what Severus heard, but was instead forced to the floor by the surprisingly strong arm of the barman, who had apparently followed him up the stairs.
Regulus was never certain what happened, having been rendered unconscious in the chaos and would never bring himself to ask Severus for a recounting of the events. When he opened his eyes however, he saw instantly a struggling Severus held fast by Dumbledore’s firm grip.
Dumbledore raised his wand, but was clearly hesitant to take further action against the young man in his grasp. Regulus saw the weakness and pounced. A simple disarming spell and a swift kick saw them both fleeing into the street and vanishing before anyone could realise what had happened.
* * * * *
“You need to make a record of what you heard,” Lord Voldemort said to Severus, waving his hand in a swift dismissal. Severus left them alone with a curt bow.
“You are honoured.” Voldemort smiled at Regulus the instant they were alone. “Your loyalty to your companion places you in high esteem.”
Regulus bowed coldly. No emotion, he reminded himself, thankful that he was able to utilise of Severus’ brief education in the art of concealing thoughts.
He thought of Sirius. His thoughts remained hidden. Sirius would be proud of his strength. Someday, Regulus thought, Sirius would elicit a small grin and clap his shoulder, pronouncing to the world that this was his brother.
Regulus’ upturned face absorbed the Dark Lord’s every word. Concealed beneath a veil of superficial adoration, he began to make plans. He would make Sirius proud, would be the one to unify his family. Family was the way to survival.
5. Veil
“He is aware that you are disloyal,” Severus’ words were frozen and sharp.
Regulus nodded acknowledgement, glancing away to the horizon and trying to steady his breathing; he had been running for a little longer than was comfortable. He raised his hands, tired of being hounded to an inevitable end.
“I will not kill you,” Severus said, firmly.
Regulus glanced around; surely the purpose of Severus’ mission had been to kill him. What fate, he wondered, did his betrayed master deem worse than death?
Severus gave an ironic smile. “I was dispatched to ensure your swift demise,” he said, clearly knowing what the young traitor would be thinking.
Regulus raised an eyebrow, wishing that Severus would stop playing such games. He shivered. Leglimens, he thought, as he observed the dark haired man.
“Our loyalties are the same,” Severus said, simply, his words filling the dark silence of the small hideout.
“What?” Regulus could not prevent the sharp exclamation, momentarily shattering the smooth silence.
Severus gave a sharp nod but chose not to elaborate in words.
“How long?” Regulus inquired, after a moment.
“Since The Hog’s Head,” Severus said, softly. “I went to Dumbledore then.”
Regulus nodded his acceptance, then considered what he was being told. It didn’t make sense. “Why?” Even he didn’t know if it was a question or a challenge.
Severus stared at the young man. “I did it for you,” he said, coldly, his tone so lacking in emotion that Regulus wrapped one arm unconsciously around his body in a vain search for warmth. “Your brother,” he said faintly.
“But your Brotherhood?” Regulus said.
“Blood is of more importance than you realise,” Severus said.
“None of this makes sense.” Regulus raised a hand to his hair, tugging it from his eyes. He thought of his parents, safely tucked away in their dark house, saw his childhood self observing the tree on the drawing room wall.
“No,” Severus said, “I doubt it ever will. If you go now, you’ve still got the chance to escape. He’s got no real reason to hunt you down.”
“I did something.” Regulus said, after a momentary, uncertain silence. “I took a Horcrux.”
Severus stared. “How did you know?”
“He told me,” Regulus said. Severus winced.
“He trusted you.”
“Yes,” Regulus said, softly. Then, “It’s inhuman.”
“The Horcrux or our Master?”
“Either.”
“Yes,” Severus agreed, with a flicker of an ironic smile.
“I’ll be killed for this,” Regulus said, “I did it to make Sirius proud, and now I’m going to die”
“Fool,” Severus spoke suddenly coldly, “You’ll get caught, and all he’ll do will be to make another.”
Regulus shook his head slightly. “It’s well hidden,” he said. “He’ll have to find it first, before he can make another.”
Severus was silent.
“Promise me something?” Regulus asked. Severus raised an eyebrow.
“You would trust a promise from me?” He asked.
“Yes,” Regulus said, simply. Severus’ smile softened his features; it was a surprisingly warm smile - one with which Regulus was unfamiliar.
“Don’t tell them it was me.”
“The Order?” Severus inquired. Regulus did not answer. Severus assumed the affirmative.
“I didn’t like Sirius,” Severus said, after a pause, “but I think he’d be proud of you, if he knew.”
Regulus nodded once. “More proud if I had lived,” he said.
Severus pulled out his wand. “You killed yourself, really,” he said, unlocking the door with as flick of his wand.
Regulus smiled sadly, “You were always the cleverer,” he said, turning to face the doorway. There was no way he could flee forever. He would be hunted down and crushed, without a second thought. Hunted down and killed thoughtlessly for being such a coward. Just a deserter, he thought. Perhaps one day, he thought, this war would be over and he could come home again. He knew this last thought was one in vain. “Don’t get yourself caught.”
“You should go,” Severus said, “I will tell him I have killed you.”
Regulus placed a dirty hand on the door handle; it squeaked as he turned it. Behind him two harshly spoken words sent him on his way (he smiled only slightly). A farewell, he thought in that split second before their meaning registered.
“Avada Kedavra.”
The darkness took him whole.
AUTHOR: serpentpixie
CHARACTERS: Regulus, Severus
PROMPT: Regulus realises he has to die in order to steal the horcruxes. Written originally for hp_angstfest
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 3260
BROTHERHOOD
“The crest and crowning of all good,
Life’s final star, is Brotherhood.”
Edwin Markham (1852-1940)
1. Initiation
“Tonight, my children,” Lord Voldemort’s wand twirled idly in his hand as his voice held the rapt silence in his command. “Tonight, we initiate a reformed soul.”
Regulus observed carefully from his position, concealed alone behind a crumbling statue. His hand moved with a slow, precise movement, adjusting his already perfectly hung robes. He resisted the urge to scratch fiercely at the skin on his arms; the heavy black cloth was uncomfortably warm in the summer air.
“Tonight,” Voldemort said again, “We welcome another wanderer home.”
Severus, Regulus noticed, was standing beside Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy’s legacy had been one that had haunted the dormitories of the younger Slytherins. He was one to be remembered. Severus must have been raised in The Dark Lord’s esteem. This was not a surprise: Severus’ legacy (though he hadn’t known it) was almost as great as Malfoy’s.
“Step forward, Child!” Lord Voldemort had probably spoken these words too many times to count.
Regulus followed his feet into the circle. Blank white faces shone in the moonlight, observing his nervous steps. He could only recognise them as individuals by their unified stony gaze. Severus’ eyes met his for only a moment. Neither could maintain the contact.
He wondered if his presence at school would be missed. He was doubtful - the feast would occupy most of the students. What a life, he thought, to have one’s mind consumed by such mundane thoughts.
“You have passed the tests of loyalty, courage and trust placed before you.” Lord Voldemort held his wand up, casting a peculiar light across the intimate circle.
Tests? The only missions on which he had been sent were all botched in a most spectacular fashion. Surely the Dark Lord could not be referring to those? Yet here he stood - accepted. He would have to thank Severus later for saving his skin more times than was called for.
“You returned to the fold every time,” Voldemort said into his ear. “You did not flee in fear or weakness, but came back home. Your soul is whole and pure.”
For some reason, the idea of his soul being pure forced a shiver through his body. He was unnerved, though admittedly relieved.
Was Severus angry that he’d forced him to kill? Regulus suppressed this haunting thought as soon as it occurred. It was his duty to kill. He was a fool to forget it.
“Fool indeed, young Black,” the Dark Lord said, with a smirk that might have been genuine amusement. “You’ll learn.”
Regulus made a strange half nod, half bow, quite uncertain of the correct response. He wished he knew this etiquette well enough to be comfortable.
“We are unified,” Voldemort said. “We are brothers and we guide each other as brothers ought.”
Ought. Ought isn’t always as brothers do, though. Regulus knew that far too well.
“Are you ready to join our Brotherhood?”
* * * * *
Severus walked beside him to the gates. Regulus did not know what to say, so he merely took pride in the company he kept.
“We are a brotherhood,” Severus said, as their footsteps drew them closer to the castle.
“A family united,” Regulus echoed, staring upwards as he walked to face the sky.
“Never forget it.” Severus left him at the entrance of the school - one swift turn and he was gone. Regulus rolled down the sleeves of his school robes and swept up the road through a vacant silence.
2. Etiquette
Regulus sipped carefully from his silver goblet, barely allowing the wine to touch his lips. He did not much care for the taste of his uncle's homemade wine, though of course he would never say this - particularly since the one time he had confessed his preference for firewhiskey, his parents had laughed and told him that he'd grow up soon enough. He hadn't got the firewhiskey.
"Has your uncle replied yet?" Walburga enquired, setting her fork down for a moment and lifting her own goblet. She didn’t drink, but instead held the wine half way between the table and her mouth as she fixed her son with a hard stare. Regulus shook his head, a motion that earned him a sudden infuriated look from his father.
"Sorry," he said, quickly swallowing a mouthful of food. "No, I haven't heard anything."
He could see the family tapestry hung proudly on the wall; it’s neat gold thread glinting slightly in the candlelight. He almost heard his childhood tutor repeating those fated phrases: ‘Family is of the utmost importance. Through our descendants we are immortal.’ He’d hated those words, written out repeatedly for apparently ceaseless hours.
"Maybe I should write," Orion looked directly at his son. Regulus shifted very slightly; he had to try hard not to openly squirm.
"No need, father," he said lightly. The truth was, he had never sent Cygnus a letter in the first place. "I'll send Falco."
“Is that owl reliable?” Walburga asked, coldly.
“Falco will be fine, mother,” Regulus replied, almost too quickly. It was lucky his mother hadn’t noticed his haste; she had instead blasted a fly with her wand, causing it to vanish in a burst of flame. “If I don’t have a reply within a week, then I will visit Cygnus myself.”
“The wine industry is a good one in which to make a living,” Orion stated, without looking up.
“So you’ve said.”
“Don’t be rude,” Walburga snapped. Regulus gritted his teeth but remained silent. He had learned a long time ago that apologising would be a highly foolish thing to do.
“It’s a family business,” Orion continued as though no other words had been spoken. “I trust you need no education in your duties towards your blood.”
“No, father,” Regulus said. He lifted his fork again - the food was cold. Regulus himself was cold.
Somehow, he thought, he had to get away from their constant scrutiny. Sirius, it seemed (though a fool for his methods), was not a complete imbecile.
He thought of his fellow Death Eaters. He still felt inches taller whenever he considered his position among such a coveted brotherhood, his veins flooded with a feeling of intense warmth. Somehow he had found acceptance; all he had to do was wait to be called.
3. Questions
Regulus crept forwards on his hands and knees, hauling his shaking body up to the window. His palms were sweating. Severus, several feet behind him appeared deadly calm, casting a swift concealment charm over them both. Being rendered invisible was not a sensation that Regulus took much pleasure in.
A sudden noise nearly sent him flying backwards with shock - his left hand fumbled in his robes, its sweaty palm closing on his only means of defence. Severus was there in a moment, one cold hand placed firmly on Regulus’ unsteady one. He vaguely recognised the sound, an eerily familiar laugh, which came again from inside the room. Squinting, Regulus could see the smiling face of his brother, leaning back in his chair and sipping from a silver goblet.
“You’re awful, Sirius!” another man appeared, pulling up a chair opposite Sirius. Regulus thought he recognised the face, although he couldn’t place a name to him. To his left Severus stiffened slightly.
Sirius shrugged, “he deserved it.” He flicked his wand idly at a fly, which buzzed into the fireplace and crisped instantly. Regulus shivered again.
“Who’s that?” he whispered to Severus. Severus shook his head sharply. Regulus did not ask any more questions. Inside the two men continued to discuss an apparently trivial matter.
“Seriously,” the man-who-wasn’t-Sirius was saying with a graceful smirk, “You’ll drive him to the dark side.”
Sirius laughed. Regulus very nearly smiled at this; Sirius’ laugh had been cause for some severe mocking when they were children. “Imagine!” Sirius said, “Peter Pettigrew, Death Eater extraordinaire!”
“Lord Wormtail. The next nameless Dark Enemy.”
“Remus!” A woman walked into the room. Regulus recognised her immediately as Minerva McGonagall. Sirius hurriedly removed his feet from the table and put down his goblet. The man called Remus (Regulus remembered now - a peculiar taciturn boy) jumped about a foot in the air.
“Sorry, Professor…” he gibbered.
Both Sirius and Minerva smirked. Regulus felt Severus tense slightly beside him. He tried to return to focussing on the room. A fine thing it’d be if he botched this job, since the chances of being able to return were slim. Peter at least was securely inside, though Regulus had doubts about how much he was trusted, given his level of intelligence.
“I think it’s time you went to bed,” Minerva said, firmly. She picked up the half empty wine bottle from the table and placed it in a cupboard out of sight. The man named Remus nodded and left. As he passed, Minerva said, “You’ll be woken at four.”
Sirius began clearing the kitchen from where he sat, flicking his wand casually at various objects. Minerva was pulling on a light cloak.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, heading towards the door.
“Minerva,” Sirius’ voice caused the woman to pause. “Take care.”
Minerva was silent for a moment, before replying with more than just a touch of sarcasm, “I do believe you’d miss me if I died. You’d be terribly lost.”
Sirius smiled softly and Minerva exited. Moments later she strode from the front door of the headquarters, vanishing into the night air. The two men, who had ducked down behind a bush (a slightly foolish response, given that they were invisible, Regulus thought later), crept silently away from the small building.
“Waste of a night,” Severus spat, as they walked down the deserted road.
“We missed the meeting then…” Regulus’ statement earned him a patronising glare.
“I do hope Peter gleaned us some information,” Severus said, coldly. “Otherwise we’re both in for a tough night.”
Regulus didn’t answer - his mind was too busy contemplating the expression on Sirius’ face when he had smiled at Lupin. The whole evening had made him edgy, though he didn’t quite know why. Sirius, it seemed, always had everything better.
In any case, he thought later that night, it wasn’t a complete waste. They had a spy placed right in the midst of the Order and he wasn’t even suspected. Hopefully, his Master had said when they reported back, they would be able to crack their opponents from within.
The thing was, Regulus thought, he wasn’t so sure that his own brotherhood was infallible.
4. Truth
The child had long since ceased screaming. Instead, the sound it made was something of a helpless gurgle. Not quite sane anymore, Regulus thought, but then promptly decided he ought to stop thinking.
“End it,” he said to Severus, whose wand was trained on the child.
It’s only a Muggle, he thought firmly, as Severus nodded once and raised his wand. It isn’t human. The child’s unsteady panting echoed in the small room, sounding more akin to a distressed animal than a human child. That’s it, Regulus thought - it was only a beast.
Severus’ killing curse forced it’s breath to cease quite suddenly. Everything was silent, the chaos illuminated in a cold, green light. The two men turned with an almost simultaneous grace, appearing together on a road some hundred and fifty miles away.
“Shall we stop for a drink?” Severus asked, gesturing at the Hog’s Head, outside which they now stood. Regulus said nothing, but kept his mouth clenched shut for fear of becoming reacquainted with his breakfast.
“Two double firewhiskey’s please,” Severus said firmly to the barman, having ushered Regulus swiftly into an unoccupied, dusty chair.
They drank in silence, observing the comings and goings of various witches and wizards. Regulus was particularly amused by a young woman attired in enough shawls to give Hogwarts Castle its very own blanket. Under normal circumstances this woman would be subject to a considerable level of ridicule, however he didn’t feel he had the energy to engage in such behaviour.
“Do you ever get used to it?” Regulus asked, when he had finally managed to calm down enough to engage in coherent conversation.
“Killing?” Severus asked. Regulus nodded. “There’s a theory,” Severus said, carefully, “that we are trying to change the world.”
“Revolution,” Regulus proclaimed, with a bittersweet smirk.
“Of a sort,” Severus replied, “How many ‘Dark Lords’ have been murdered across the centuries?”
Regulus shrugged. “Enough that I can’t remember,” he quipped.
Severus narrowed his eyes. “So who lived to pass on the tale?” he asked.
Regulus stared at the older man.
“It’s obvious isn’t it?” Severus said, lightly. “All an individual can do is survive, by whatever means they can. Then we’re a hero to someone in the future, if not one now. It’s the survivors who change the world.”
Regulus was on the verge of making a swift remark regarding Severus’ Hogwarts house, but the chance never came. Behind him at that very moment the door to the pub was pulled open.
“Look!” Severus was suddenly alert. Regulus turned towards the door as it slammed, having just admitted a distinctive cloaked figure.
“What’s he up to?” Regulus said softly to his companion. Severus shook his head slightly. The two men watched as he approached the woman with the shawls.
“Headmaster,” she greeted him; her tone was childish and soft. It set Regulus’ teeth on edge; Bella used to speak like that.
Dumbledore nodded in her direction and they disappeared through the small door that led upstairs. Regulus’ eyes snapped to Severus’ searching for permission to move. Severus, however, was already half way across the room. Regulus was swift to follow.
He never reached the room in time to know what Severus heard, but was instead forced to the floor by the surprisingly strong arm of the barman, who had apparently followed him up the stairs.
Regulus was never certain what happened, having been rendered unconscious in the chaos and would never bring himself to ask Severus for a recounting of the events. When he opened his eyes however, he saw instantly a struggling Severus held fast by Dumbledore’s firm grip.
Dumbledore raised his wand, but was clearly hesitant to take further action against the young man in his grasp. Regulus saw the weakness and pounced. A simple disarming spell and a swift kick saw them both fleeing into the street and vanishing before anyone could realise what had happened.
* * * * *
“You need to make a record of what you heard,” Lord Voldemort said to Severus, waving his hand in a swift dismissal. Severus left them alone with a curt bow.
“You are honoured.” Voldemort smiled at Regulus the instant they were alone. “Your loyalty to your companion places you in high esteem.”
Regulus bowed coldly. No emotion, he reminded himself, thankful that he was able to utilise of Severus’ brief education in the art of concealing thoughts.
He thought of Sirius. His thoughts remained hidden. Sirius would be proud of his strength. Someday, Regulus thought, Sirius would elicit a small grin and clap his shoulder, pronouncing to the world that this was his brother.
Regulus’ upturned face absorbed the Dark Lord’s every word. Concealed beneath a veil of superficial adoration, he began to make plans. He would make Sirius proud, would be the one to unify his family. Family was the way to survival.
5. Veil
“He is aware that you are disloyal,” Severus’ words were frozen and sharp.
Regulus nodded acknowledgement, glancing away to the horizon and trying to steady his breathing; he had been running for a little longer than was comfortable. He raised his hands, tired of being hounded to an inevitable end.
“I will not kill you,” Severus said, firmly.
Regulus glanced around; surely the purpose of Severus’ mission had been to kill him. What fate, he wondered, did his betrayed master deem worse than death?
Severus gave an ironic smile. “I was dispatched to ensure your swift demise,” he said, clearly knowing what the young traitor would be thinking.
Regulus raised an eyebrow, wishing that Severus would stop playing such games. He shivered. Leglimens, he thought, as he observed the dark haired man.
“Our loyalties are the same,” Severus said, simply, his words filling the dark silence of the small hideout.
“What?” Regulus could not prevent the sharp exclamation, momentarily shattering the smooth silence.
Severus gave a sharp nod but chose not to elaborate in words.
“How long?” Regulus inquired, after a moment.
“Since The Hog’s Head,” Severus said, softly. “I went to Dumbledore then.”
Regulus nodded his acceptance, then considered what he was being told. It didn’t make sense. “Why?” Even he didn’t know if it was a question or a challenge.
Severus stared at the young man. “I did it for you,” he said, coldly, his tone so lacking in emotion that Regulus wrapped one arm unconsciously around his body in a vain search for warmth. “Your brother,” he said faintly.
“But your Brotherhood?” Regulus said.
“Blood is of more importance than you realise,” Severus said.
“None of this makes sense.” Regulus raised a hand to his hair, tugging it from his eyes. He thought of his parents, safely tucked away in their dark house, saw his childhood self observing the tree on the drawing room wall.
“No,” Severus said, “I doubt it ever will. If you go now, you’ve still got the chance to escape. He’s got no real reason to hunt you down.”
“I did something.” Regulus said, after a momentary, uncertain silence. “I took a Horcrux.”
Severus stared. “How did you know?”
“He told me,” Regulus said. Severus winced.
“He trusted you.”
“Yes,” Regulus said, softly. Then, “It’s inhuman.”
“The Horcrux or our Master?”
“Either.”
“Yes,” Severus agreed, with a flicker of an ironic smile.
“I’ll be killed for this,” Regulus said, “I did it to make Sirius proud, and now I’m going to die”
“Fool,” Severus spoke suddenly coldly, “You’ll get caught, and all he’ll do will be to make another.”
Regulus shook his head slightly. “It’s well hidden,” he said. “He’ll have to find it first, before he can make another.”
Severus was silent.
“Promise me something?” Regulus asked. Severus raised an eyebrow.
“You would trust a promise from me?” He asked.
“Yes,” Regulus said, simply. Severus’ smile softened his features; it was a surprisingly warm smile - one with which Regulus was unfamiliar.
“Don’t tell them it was me.”
“The Order?” Severus inquired. Regulus did not answer. Severus assumed the affirmative.
“I didn’t like Sirius,” Severus said, after a pause, “but I think he’d be proud of you, if he knew.”
Regulus nodded once. “More proud if I had lived,” he said.
Severus pulled out his wand. “You killed yourself, really,” he said, unlocking the door with as flick of his wand.
Regulus smiled sadly, “You were always the cleverer,” he said, turning to face the doorway. There was no way he could flee forever. He would be hunted down and crushed, without a second thought. Hunted down and killed thoughtlessly for being such a coward. Just a deserter, he thought. Perhaps one day, he thought, this war would be over and he could come home again. He knew this last thought was one in vain. “Don’t get yourself caught.”
“You should go,” Severus said, “I will tell him I have killed you.”
Regulus placed a dirty hand on the door handle; it squeaked as he turned it. Behind him two harshly spoken words sent him on his way (he smiled only slightly). A farewell, he thought in that split second before their meaning registered.
“Avada Kedavra.”
The darkness took him whole.