Regulus stumbled when he landed. Living as a muggle for the last year he had rarely apparated, so it took him a moment to get his bearings again. His heart was still pounding in his chest. That had been far too close.
Shit. This was bad. Sirius knew.
That was beyond stupid of him, he had opened the door expecting his nosey neighbor to be there to bother him again about going out sometime. - She should get the hint by now. - He had not expected his brother to follow him through the city for over an hour, and he certainly did not expect him to go right up and knock on his door like some social call.
He should have known better. This was Sirius and he apparently blamed himself for what happened to Regulus. He hadn’t been able to get Sirius’ words out of his head since that first night he saw him.
I failed someone I should have protected. I let him down when I should have been the one person he could rely on.
Sirius was naive, Regulus was responsible for everything that had happened to himself. Was he angry that Sirius left? Yes, but he doesn’t blame him for it. Hell, if he thought he could have gotten away with running away to James he would have done it too.
I wish I could apologize, but I waited too long and now it’s too late.
He’s glad he was able to leave Sirius a note this time, even if it was short. He would have written something longer had he had the time, but Sirius was about to bring the whole flat down trying to get in. He barely had time to grab his wand and polyjuice before he heard the lock click and the handle turn. He had apparated then, leaving behind the little life he had built for himself there.
It had been a nice life, save for the annoying girl next door. He had enjoyed his job and his flat. Had even made a few friends, nothing deep but they provided decent conversation.
That was over now though. He had to start over, again.
He had only been working at the bar for 6 months and hadn't seen Sirius there before that day a month ago. Regulus had left the next morning to hunt down the Gaunt ring. Then when he got back, Sirius was there again.
As unexpected as it was, it had been a pleasant surprise the first time he showed up at the bar. The second time was just as surprising, and a little unnerving. He should have known better than to go back to the bar after seeing Sirius the first time. It was risky, and now he had to leave in such a rush he couldn't even grab the few personal items he still had. They were lost to him now.
He shouldn't have kept them at the flat for this very reason. Thankfully he hadn’t kept any of his research material there. It was here, in a small shack in the woods which from the outside looked like it was one strong breeze from falling over.
He pushed the door open, letting out a relieved sigh as the warmth inside the shack curled around him. Shelves of books and scrolls wrapped around the room, and a small table and comfortable chair sat in the center—a safe place to continue his research into the Horcruxes.
He has the two he had collected hidden in the floorboards beneath his chair, the locket, and the ring. Thankfully the ring had been a little less death-defying to retrieve than the locket.
He disappeared a year ago today, presumed dead.
He had nearly died. He let his family and Voldemort believe that he had. He let Sirius believe he was dead. No one would come looking for him and Voldemort would be less likely to discover what he was doing. It was better this way.
I only learned from the prophet that he had died. No body found, no one knows what happened.
It was a near thing, but he got out, got here, and kept working.
He will keep working.
His research had been productive over the last year. Though his information was dubious he was fairly certain that Voldemort had 5 Horcruxes. Two of which he had in his possession.
Slytherin’s Locket; Hidden in CaveGaunts Ring; Hidden in ancestral home- Book; given to Lucius
- Hidden somewhere at Malfoy Manor.
- Hufflepuff’s Gold Cup; given to Bellatrix
- Hidden in the Lestrange Vault at Gringots.
- Ravenclaws Diadem; ?
- Need to ask the Grey Lady if she knows anything.
After Kreacher took him to the cave and he had gotten his hands on the locket things started to make sense. Why Voldemort was so confident he couldn’t be killed. Why he looked the way he did. It was unsettling.
Once he was dead he was able to dig his heels into his research. He quickly figured out the locket was Slytherin’s. Which allowed for an educated guess that Voldemort might look for other objects related to the Hogwarts founders. This had been confirmed when he recognized the cup in his research. He had been at the table when Voldemort gave it to Bellatrix. The diadem is still a guess, but strongly supported by his research. He had ruled out the Sword of Gryffindor since it could be summoned at any time by a Gryffindor in need, making it impossible to keep truly safe.
He was also sure that the book that Voldemort gave to Lucius was another Horcrux. Likely something personal to his history, like the ring had been. Something that belonged to his as Tom Riddle
It had been a shock when he figured out who Lord Voldemort really was, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Once he had the name it was easy to draw the line to the new name he gave himself. An anagram - sort of. What a pretentious prick.
He settled down in his chair and started to flip through his notes again. He was pleased with how far he had made it into his research. The only thing still eluding him was the means to destroy the Horcruxes he had collected.
Merlin, he wanted to get rid of them. Even now he could feel their dark magic winding up from the floorboards, wrapping around his ankles like the hands of the infiri. It felt like he was drowning in the cave all over again.
It was all too easy to remember the cold hands on him, pulling him into the dark water. He had been so close to letting himself go, succumbing to the cool water ready to fill his burning lungs.
He had never believed in the trope that your life would flash before your eyes when you were about to die. He thought it was romanticized nonsense – until it happened to him. Surrounded by dark water his short life rolled in vibrant scenes through his mind.
He and Sirius playing and growing together. Their mother's lessons . His first train ride to Hogwarts. Being sorted into Slytherin and meeting Barty and Evan. His brothers pained looks whenever they made eye contact. Pain that shifted to anger and hatred over the years.
James.
Suddenly he had felt warmer, the dark was swallowed by the sun. His resignation twisted to resistance. This was not his end.
The memories of James continued to flash through his head, dizzying in how fast they came and went. But then he saw James smiling at him, holding his hand out with a small box cradled in his palm. Regulus took it, opened it, and found a silver necklace within, a pair of antlers engraved on the silver disk, a star crowned above them. He could still feel the flood of joy he had felt in the moment. How his heart had nearly leapt out of his chest and directly into James' hands, where it belonged. James had smiled and laughed, pulling out a matching necklace in gold that was hanging around his own neck.
He didn’t know how he did it. He felt like he had been burning like his sun, burning away the darkness and the hands grabbing for him. Then he was outside. He lay in the fresh air with the sun beaming down on him, warming him from the outside as memories of James warmed him from within.
Salazar, he was being too sentimental. He needs to get out of here. He was in no state of mind to withstand the horcruxes' dark magic right now. Regulus wouldn’t let them darken him further.
He would need to build a new life before he could start working on the Horcruxes again.
Thankfully, he can still get to the bank and pull out his money. Then he'll have to find a new identity to steal. Maybe he’ll take a trip to Spain this time to steal some hair from a good-looking muggle there.
-yes, good looking, just because he has to pretend to be someone else doesn't mean he can't enjoy it while he does-
The last time he had gone to France and picked a few blond locks from a handsome muggle seated outside a cafe. He named his new persona ‘Ray’. Close enough to Reg that it was easier to start responding to the name.
For tonight he would take another dose of polyjuice and find a hotel. Tomorrow a new identity and a new flat.
Then he would start looking for a new job and forget he ever saw Sirius.
—
It had been a week since Sirius came crashing into his flat. He had made the trip to Spain. Spending the day enjoying the Mediterranean sun and finding a handsome man to pluck a few hairs from. He had returned to the shack, brewed the new polyjuice, and set out to get a new flat. He even went into a bar to ask about a job and was hired on the spot.
It had all been very easy. Far too easy, and he was riddled with anxiety waiting for something to go wrong – again.
That wrong thing came in the form of a small owl perched on the windowsill of his new flat.
He should have ignored it. Let it return to the sender, let himself keep the little peace of mind he had salvaged. There was no doubt who the letter was from. Sirius was the only one who knew he was alive, and unfortunately, owls could find the recipient of letters with no address needed.
But he was a fool, he opened the window and let the owl with its letter into his new life.
Hands shaking he took the letter from the owl and waited for it to fly away. It didn’t. Sirius was expecting a reply. Regulus felt his anger rising, he shooed the bird out the window and shut it again with a harsh click.
Of course, he would expect something from Regulus. He knew Sirius wouldn’t be able to let this go. All he could hope for was that his brother wouldn’t find some way to track him down again.
He took a few deep breaths to settle his mind and cool his anger before he dealt with the letter. Tea. He would make some tea, something to do with his hands and it would help calm him.
Once the kettle was on, he puttered around the kitchen. He cleaned some dishes and swept the floor. It was lunchtime, so he made himself a sandwich to go with his tea. When everything was ready he went to sit on the couch. He ate quietly and sipped his tea, eyeing the letter resting on the furthest end of the couch.
He was restless, the letter making his skin crawl. standing he started to pace through his living room. He wasn’t sure he wanted to open it. Maybe he could just burn it and forget it ever existed. It would be easier.
Sirius didn’t deserve that though.
Sitting down on his couch again he broke the seal on the letter and opened it before he could change his mind. As soon as he unfolded the page another piece of paper fell out and landed gently at his feet. Picking it up he turned it over and was nearly swept away by the tide of emotion that washed over him.
It was the photograph from his flat. The last piece of him and Sirius he had taken with him from Grimmauld place. Sirius had returned it to him.
He placed the photograph on the couch next to him, taking a few breaths and trying to hold back the tears pricking at his eyes.
When he felt he had himself back under control he picked the letter up and started to read.
Dear Reggie,
I have written this letter at least a dozen times in the last week. You'd have thought it would be easier. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to say to you if I ever saw you again. But, I thought you were dead and that I would never get that chance.
I honestly cannot believe I have the chance after all, at least I hope I do. For all I know you could choose to burn this letter before you ever open it. I would deserve that. I don’t deserve to ask for your forgiveness.
I should have never left you behind, I wish I had fought to take you with me when I left that hell we called home. If I had Would we have been able to be brothers again if I had?
Dammit, Reggie. I have so much guilt about leaving you there. About letting you fall into their poison and not trying to stop it.
Even with all that guilt, I am also so fucking angry.
Why Reggie?
Why didn’t you fight them if you wanted to escape? I can’t help but think that's why you faked your death, to get away from them. Why didn’t you come find me? I know we have our differences but if you needed a way out you could have come to me. I wish you had.
I wish you would. You can.
S.O.B
He couldn’t. He had chosen his path and it did not involve him running to his brother. Sirius had spent their whole childhood protecting Regulus. It was well past time for him to protect Sirius.
He would finish this. Make Voldemort a mere mortal again and finish him. Make the world safe for himself, for James, for Sirius .
It’s my brother.
The words still haunted him, keeping him up at night. When the words tumbled from Sirius’ drunken lips his first thought was that something had happened to James. What other brother would have Sirius that upset?
He had dropped the glass he was drying out of sheer terror. Fear constricting his chest that James was hurt or dead. It was that rising dread that made him ask, forcing his voice to sound casual. You are here because of your brother, are you meeting him here or something?
Merlin no. He would hate it here.
That confused him. James would have loved the bar. It was a major reason that Regulus enjoyed working there so much. It reminded him of James and Sirius, of their loud voices and louder personalities.
Oh? Why? He asked the question and listened to the words his brother spoke but they didn’t make sense.
Our parents were abusive, screaming, yelling, loud noises. Regulus hated all that stuff, parties too. Always made him uncomfortable.
Regulus had spent hours listening to James tell stories about his family, they didn't abuse him. They were the source of the sunshine he shed on every part of his life and those around him. James spoke about his parents like they were the best people on earth, and if they made James then Regulus was inclined to believe it. It didn’t make sense. Until –
Regulus
His own name finally registered. Then it made even less sense. Sirius was there to drink and drown his guilt over him? Not James, not even Peter or Remus. Him.
For years Sirius had made it so blindingly obvious that he hated Regulus. How was he there telling a complete stranger about the loss of his brother? Speaking like he had lost someone he was close to, someone he had loved. Regulus had thought they lost each other years before he had ‘died’. Maybe he was wrong.
Apparently, he was wrong, proof here in front of him. Black ink on white parchment, clear as day, black and white. Why didn’t you come find me? I wish you had. I wish you would. You can.
He can’t. It’s been too long. He needs to finish what he started, and he cannot risk Dumbledore and his Order getting in the way. Sirius knowing he was alive was risky enough.
He couldn’t show back up in Sirius’s life and expect that everything would be fine. No, if he showed up alive again then he could be certain the whole war would fall down on his head. He would be crushed under the rubble of failure and he would take everyone he cared about down with him.
Maybe if he survives the war he and Sirius can find each other again. Maybe.
He stood and wandered over to his desk. Folding the letter carefully, he tucked it into a drawer and turned to get ready for his first shift at his new job.
—
He settled in well to his new routine. Two months after Sirius’ letter he was back to pouring all of his free time into the Horcrux hunt. His research had been productive if a little disheartening. He had discovered how to destroy the Horcruxes, feindfyre, or basilisk venom.
Not good. Both options were difficult to execute. He could probably buy basilisk venom, but it would be difficult to find and would be extraordinarily expensive. Without his inheritance, he would have to save for years to be able to afford it. Maybe he could steal it? Worth a look, but stealing from someone who had it on hand could be deadly.
Feindfyre on the other hand was just terrifying. So much could go wrong. He wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. No. It was absolutely worth the risk, but not until he had all of the Horcruxes. He would only cast feindfyre once. He might only have one chance if it killed him.
Either option could result in him actually dying before he could kill Voldemort.
Shit.
It was 4 am, and he was just getting into bed when the thought struck him. He couldn’t do this alone. If he used feindfyre to destroy the Horcrux then there would be a good chance he would be killed. The same was likely if he chose to steal the basilik venom from someone.
Someone would need to know what he had done so they could kill Voldemort if he couldn’t.
He needed help. Fuck.
He couldn’t ask Barty or Evan, they were in too deep with the Death Eaters. He had tried to talk to them about leaving, they had laughed and said they were proud of the work they were doing. It made him sick. He couldn’t save them, it was too late.
He couldn’t ask James, he wouldn’t let Regulus go through with it. Knowing he could die James would step in with his stupid savior complex and try to protect him. No, he couldn’t ask James for help.
That left only one other person who he could turn to. He let out a harsh laugh. He had been fighting it for months and now he had to do the thing he had promised he wouldn’t do.
He rolled himself back out of bed and padded over to his desk. Taking out a piece of parchment and his quill. He started to write.
He needed his brother.
He needed Sirius.