Velvet Bond

The morning after, Regulus arrived at Malfoy Manor, exhaustion pressing down on him like a weight too heavy to bear. His body ached from the previous night’s confrontation, his robes torn, streaked with dried blood and ash. But he was alive. And, most importantly, the child in his arms was alive.

Narcissa was waiting for him, exactly where she had promised she would be. Her expression was unreadable as her gaze swept over him, taking in every wound, every trace of battle.
“You made it,” she murmured, relief flickering in her voice as she reached out to take Draco from his arms. The baby stirred but did not wake, unaware of how close he had come to being lost forever.

Regulus exhaled, barely able to stand. “It’s done. He’s safe.”

Narcissa nodded, carefully cradling Draco to her chest before lifting her gaze to meet his. “Come inside. You need to sit before you collapse.”

He followed her into the manor, the warmth of the house a sharp contrast to the night’s bitter cold. She led him to a chair in the drawing room, where he sank down heavily. A house-elf appeared with a damp cloth, and Narcissa pressed it into his hand. He barely registered it.

She sat across from him, her grip on Draco firm, protective. “Where did you go, Regulus?” Her voice was quiet but demanding.
He hesitated, then answered. “James' parents.”

Narcissa’s fingers tensed against the fabric of Draco’s blanket. “The Potters? How did you know they were going to help you?”

Regulus gave a small grimace with his mouth. “I-" he stalled. "I trusted an old acquaintance. I had no other choice. They were following me." Regulus closed his eyes, he was so tired. "I knew they wouldn’t kill the child, no matter what happened.” He rubbed his forehead, exhaustion making his movements slow. “I got there before it was too late. Weasley was behind me, with Vance and the other guy.”

Narcissa inhaled sharply. “You faced all of them?”

Regulus exhaled slowly. “I delayed them. Just long enough to keep Draco safe. For the moment we are safe.”

She searched his face for any sign of deception or uncertainty, but he was too tired to hide anything from her. “And James? Was he there?”

He hesitated again. “Unfortunately.” And just thinking about their meeting last night made Regulus wanted to hide under a rock and never come back.
Sirius will know eventually and he was not ready for that, his brother was too dramatic for his own goodness.

She sat across from him, her grip on Draco firm, protective. “I sent word to the Magisterium about Lucius,” she said softly. “They have him.”

Regulus lifted his head, eyes dull with exhaustion. “Alive?”

“Yes, for now. He’s being questioned.”
A heavy silence stretched between them before she continued, her voice quieter.

“Evan’s father is dead.”

Regulus shut his eyes. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about who had survived and who hadn’t. “And the others?”

“Some taken. Some dead. We’re still getting reports.” Her fingers traced absentmindedly over Draco’s back as she spoke. “The Aurors were waiting for us, but you already knew that.”

Regulus nodded slightly. They had known the risks. They had made their choices.
Narcissa studied him. “You did what you had to, Regulus. I won’t ask if it was worth it, because I know you believe it was.”

He opened his eyes, meeting hers. “Would you have done differently?”

A pause. Then, she shook her head. “No.”
The answer settled between them, unspoken understanding filling the space where words were unnecessary.

Regulus let out a slow breath. “We need to prepare. If Lucius talks—”

“He won’t,” Narcissa interrupted, though there was a flicker of doubt in her voice. “He knows what’s at stake.”

“But we can’t rely on that,” Regulus said firmly. “We need allies. We need to move carefully.”

Narcissa nodded, tightening her hold on Draco. “What do you need from me?”
Regulus looked at her, grateful for the unwavering steadiness in her voice. “Information. Resources. Your influence.”

She hesitated only a moment before inclining her head. “Then we start now.”
Regulus closed his eyes, just for a second. He could finally breathe.

The heavy silence in Malfoy Manor was shattered by the sharp sound of footsteps echoing through the grand entrance hall. Regulus looked up from his seat, exhaustion still weighing on him, but his instincts were sharper than ever. Narcissa was already on her feet, Draco cradled in her arms, her expression a careful mask of control.
"Not again" Regulus whispered to himself, his wand already in his hand, a few curses on the top of his tongue.

The doors swung open, revealing Lucius Malfoy. He stepped inside with the grace of a man who had once commanded respect but now carried the weight of something far darker. His usually pristine appearance was tarnished—robes slightly disheveled, a cut along his cheek, and an unfamiliar tightness in his posture. His grey eyes flickered to Narcissa first, then to Regulus.
“You’re back,” Narcissa said, her voice steady, but Regulus could hear the underlying tension, maybe she was trying to celate her care and her worry, she always tried to be the strongest and the most independent between her sisters.

Lucius exhaled, his jaw tightening. “Yes. They released me.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
Why, why, why? The had him, they had someone who probably knew all about the war so why?

Lucius hesitated for the briefest of moments before stepping further into the room. A house-elf appeared at his side, offering a drink, but he waved it away. His hands curled into fists at his sides before he finally spoke.
"Power. They could not keep them for longer. And therefore I bear no mark, it's illegal if they don't see me in action." Lucius shook his head once again. "And then-"

Lucius looked at him and Regulus felt cold all over his body.
What again?
Was yesterday not been enough?
What happened, who died? Was it Evan? Was it Barty? He didn't even think about sending a message.

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” he said, voice low. “He’s back.”

A chill settled over the room. Narcissa’s grip on Draco tightened, and Regulus sat up straighter, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Lucius was still looking at him.

“It's good right?” Regulus said even though he wanted to break something. “Finally.” He laughed a little, just to mask his inner thoughts.
Regulus knew that it was a matter of time before Voldemort would be up kicking again but he didn't expect this, he didn't prevent this. He had no more time. Right now Voldemort knew that he was a traitor.
A traitor who tried to kill him and was able to put him on bed rest for two months.

Lucius shook his head, his expression grim. “Is it really, Regulus?” He turned his gaze to Narcissa who looked ahead of her, still keeping her arms around her baby, a grimace on her face.
"What do you mean with this?" Her voice grave and tight, her glacial eyes fearless.

"I don't know- maybe the fact that you two tried to fool me in my own house?"
Lucius stood in the dimly lit room, Regulus could see his mind racing. Lucius had always known that Regulus was a man of his own convictions, but probably this- this was something else entirely.
"Why?" Lucius hissed under his breath. His fists clenched at his sides as he strode toward the door. The air seemed thicker, as though it were alive with impending danger.

As he stepped into the drawing room, he froze. There, standing in front of him with an air of determination that almost rivaled his own, was Regulus. But what struck him most was the figure beside him- Narcissa. She looked calm, but Lucius could see the subtle tension in her posture, the slight hesitation in her gaze.

"You don’t understand, Lucius," Regulus’ voice cut through the silence. "I’ve made my choice. I couldn't- that psycho is killing babies!"

"So that's it! Just because he threatened the Potters' boy? Always thought you were the baby of the family, too pure, too innocent- a coward?!"

"Oh shut up Lucius, I would have done the same thing for Draco. I DID the same thing for Draco yesterday! I risked my life for your son and I'll do it again and again, because he is innocent! He is pure! And you can call me coward but at least I'm not killing babies, you sucker! And Narcissa owes me nothing—she’s only here because she promised. She promised to protect Draco, and I—"

"Enough!" Lucius interrupted, his voice low but dangerous. He advanced a step, his eyes locked on Regulus. "You think you can stop me? After everything Voldemort has done for our family? You think you can be a hero, Regulus? To destroy the Dark Lord is to embrace death itself. You can't. You're not strong enough, you- he is-" too powerful, crazy, sick.
Yes he is.

Regulus squared his shoulders, stepping forward as well, his eyes defiant. "And you? What are you willing to do, Lucius? You’ve followed him long enough. But we both know that in the end, Voldemort sees all of us as nothing more than pawns. Sacrifices. If you truly believe in what he stands for, you’re just as blind as I was. He's not targeting only muggles, he killed uncle Alphard and he was a fucking Black!"

Lucius’ gaze shifted to Narcissa, a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. She met his stare, and for a brief moment, there was a silence that hung heavy in the room.

"You’re wrong," Narcissa said softly, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "I promised Regulus. After what he did for Draco, how could I not? You see, Lucius, what you don’t understand is that family… Draco is worth more than any of this. Than any of him. I could die for Draco. And I don't want him to live in this world."

Lucius’ mind reeled. He’d always been one to place duty above all else, but Narcissa’s words pierced deeper than he had expected. The years spent at Voldemort’s side, the sacrifices made in the name of pureblood supremacy… all of it felt like it was crumbling around him, unraveling in the wake of Narcissa’s quiet revelation.

"You think," Lucius said slowly, almost to himself, "that he would let us walk away, don’t you? That Voldemort would let any of us live once we betray him?"

Regulus’ lips curled into a faint smile. "We’ll see."
Narcissa’s eyes flickered with doubt, but they didn’t waver. " If you truly want to save us… if you still have any sense of family left, you’ll stand with us. Not against us."

Lucius stood there, his mind a whirlwind of conflict. For the first time in years, he felt the weight of a choice that had nothing to do with power.

"I’m not going to let you do this," Lucius said, his voice dark with resolve. "But I won’t stand by and watch Narcissa be harmed."

Regulus’ gaze hardened. "Then make your choice, Lucius. You can stay with him, or you can join us. But understand this: you can’t have both. It time to choose. Right now you know what I'm planning to do and I don't need casualties in my plan."

"You're sick, Regulus."

"I know. But someone has to. I'm tired and exhausted."

A long silence stretched between them. The weight of those words sank in, suffocating, undeniable.
Narcissa spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper. “How do you know? That he's returned?”

Lucius swallowed, his fingers flexing as if grasping at something unseen. “Because I saw him.” He glanced away for a moment before continuing. “They brought me in for questioning, but before they could decide my fate, the news arrived. There were reports—whispers, at first—then confirmations. Dark Mark sightings. Strange disturbances. But then- I think we kidnapped someone.”

Regulus felt the room tilt slightly. “Someone? Kidnapped?”
At the ministry?
Fuck- Voldemort was really angry, he became bold and Voldemort crazy, bold and angry is- chaos.

Lucius nodded, his voice hollow. “A warning. A promise. That his return is only the beginning. And then- well probably we have to go to him.”

A shudder ran through Narcissa, but she remained poised. “Then we don’t have time,” she murmured. “We need to prepare.”

Regulus ran a hand through his hair, frustration and dread coiling in his chest. “We were supposed to have more time.”

Lucius finally sat, his body still tense. “There is no more time. We go."

Regulus closed his eyes. "Did he tell you something about me?" His voice little than before.

"What? Scared now black?" Lucius smirked and really, Regulus wanted to give him a fucking punch on his nose. The stronger the better.

"Fuck you Lucius." Regulus got ready, sending a patronus to Barty in the meantime.
He'll be okay and home in no time to see Evan.

The heavy door creaked open with a deep, resonant sound as Regulus stepped into the room. Voldemort's red eyes gleamed in the dim light, his tall form casting a long shadow across the stone floor. Bellatrix, Lucius, and the other Death Eaters stood frozen, their faces tight with a mixture of awe and apprehension. His return was something they had all expected, though few dared to believe it would come so soon.

“Ah, Bellatrix,” Voldemort’s voice rang out, cool and smooth, “Lucius... It is good to see you all again.”
Regulus' gaze lingered briefly on each of them, Voldemort didn't kill him yet, so it was good, right? Or not? He was too much of a liability to know.

Voldemort was measuring their reactions, his presence heavy in the room, almost suffocating. Without haste, he moved to the center of the room, as though the very space around him bent to his will.
“It has been a long journey,” Voldemort began, his voice rich with dark amusement. “A journey that has forced me to confront many things... but as you can see, I have returned. As always.” A faint, cold smile curled on his lips, though his eyes remained distant, void of warmth.

The room fell silent, every eye on him, every breath held in anticipation. Voldemort’s gaze swept over his followers, as though savoring the moment.
“Many believe death to be the end,” he continued, his voice lowering to a whisper that seemed to echo off the walls. “That human power can halt me, that the finality of death can bind me... but they are wrong. I am beyond such trivialities.” He paused, his eyes flicking to the others in the room, the weight of his words sinking in.
“I have returned,” Voldemort’s voice rose again, filled with dark conviction. “Stronger than before. And now, those who opposed me will regret their foolishness.”
He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even the most loyal of his followers shiver. Voldemort's words were a promise, and they carried the weight of something far darker than any had dared imagine. The room grew colder, the air thick with anticipation as Voldemort’s figure loomed over them, commanding their full attention.

Here they were.

Voldemort was going to kill him.
Regulus gripped his wand strongly, a protective spell already on his tongue, he must be quick, he must disappear immediately, he must- he must- maybe the Potters could take him again?

His eyes locked onto Bellatrix and Lucius, his piercing gaze unyielding. “But now,” he said, his voice slipping into something quieter, yet more dangerous, “it is time for the final act. No more hiding. No more hesitation. Right Regulus? One of my fellow soldier, my boy.” Voldemort caressed his jaw and Regulus had to strain himself to now throw up.
What the hell?

"I am, my Lord. I will, my Lord."

There was a long, tense silence as the room waited for the next words to fall from his lips. The tension in the air seemed to stretch, taut as a bowstring, ready to snap.
Voldemort finally smiled, the expression cold and devoid of mercy. “The time of games is over. The true power is now mine.”

"All yours."

A slow, chilling pause filled the room, as Voldemort raised his wand, and the shadows seemed to deepen. “But I have something more to show you,” he said with a slight tilt of his head, the darkness in his voice like a crackling fire.
From the shadows behind him, two Death Eaters emerged, dragging a struggling figure between them. Elphias Doge, disheveled and bound, stumbled forward, his eyes wide with fear. His face was pale, his mouth clamped shut as if resisting the urge to speak, to call out for mercy that would never come.

Voldemort's eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction. He stepped forward, watching the old man with cold amusement. “This,” he said with a twisted smile, “is Elphias Doge. A loyal servant of Dumbledore. A man who believed in the light, in hope. And now he is my captive.”

Doge looked up, his gaze filled with both defiance and terror. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but Voldemort raised a hand, silencing him.
“We have much to discuss,” Voldemort purred, his voice almost hypnotic. “Doge here was once a trusted member of Dumbledore’s inner circle. A man who believed he could protect secrets, who thought he could stand against me. But now…” Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, his smile widening. “Now, he will speak. He will tell us everything about Dumbledore’s plans, his precious Order.”

The room was tense with anticipation. The other Death Eaters watched closely, Bellatrix’s lips curling into a dark smile, Lucius’s eyes glinting with intrigue.
Voldemort’s gaze never left Doge. “You will speak, Doge,” he whispered, a venomous promise hanging in the air. “Or I will make you wish you had.”

The room held its breath as Voldemort stepped back, allowing Doge to stand, trembling, in the center of the room. The captive’s defiance was clear, but it was no match for the Dark Lord’s power.
“Let us begin,” Voldemort said, his voice low and cold, as the shadows closed in around them.
"But first-" His eyes shifted to Bellatrix and Lucius, the room growing even quieter, if possible. "When I went away, my travels were not without risk," he continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, though every word seemed to resonate in the air like thunder. "The protections we have placed on our Horcruxes—are they still secure? Have any of them been… disturbed?"

Bellatrix stiffened, her face suddenly tense with concern, while Lucius, ever composed, betrayed the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It was clear that they both understood the gravity of the question.

Regulus closed his eyes.
It was now or never, Lucius, what will you do? Keep my secret or tell him?

Bellatrix, her voice low but firm, responded first. "My lord, we have been vigilant. My protections are untouched. There has been no sign of interference."
Lucius, his posture as rigid as ever, followed with equal conviction. "There has been no disturbance, my lord. The wards remain intact."

Voldemort studied them both, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if searching for any sign of weakness, any lie. The room was so still that Regulus could hear the faint sound of breathing, the quiet that preceded something truly terrible.

"And yet," Voldemort’s voice broke the silence, cold as ice, "we cannot afford to be complacent. You must remain vigilant. A single crack, a single misstep, and all is lost."
The tension in the room thickened, and Regulus couldn’t help but feel a flicker of unease.

"Let us not waste time," Voldemort continued, his voice suddenly sharper, the previous calm giving way to a more menacing tone. "We shall move forward with our plans. The final pieces are falling into place."
He turned back to Doge, who was still glaring at him, the prisoner’s defiance no match for the looming power of the Dark Lord. Voldemort’s smile returned, slow and filled with promise. "And as for you, Elphias," he said, his tone almost affectionate, "you will provide us with everything we need. Whether you wish to or not."