Beautiful Blue

Regulus was surprised when he woke up.

Most people would find that strange since that is typically preferred. However, when you plan to die, things become a bit more complicated when you wake up again.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a ceiling. A familiar ceiling since it was his bedroom. Another strange fact that would typically be normal. If he didn’t distinctly remember losing consciousness in a place that was certainly not his bedroom.

He was no longer wearing the same clothes as he had been when he entered that horrid cave. Instead he was in his pajamas completely dry. Suddenly, as if his body was trying to remind his brain of what he had gone through, his stomach made the executive decision that his insides needed to come outside. He threw himself over the edge of his bed and vomited murky green onto the carpet floor.

That's disgusting.

Vomiting seemed to make him aware of the pain the rest of his body was in. His limbs felt as if they had been twisted and pulled in opposite directions. Which he assumes they had been. His throat felt raw and burned almost as if someone rubbed sandpaper along the inside. His stomach ached with the feel of hunger making him wonder how long he had been unconscious. His memory also seemed affected since the exact details of what happened slipped through his fingers like sand. Things became blurry after he began drinking the potion. However, the vomit on the floor, which was a close green to the potion, was doing a good job of jogging his memory of things he did not want to remember. Even if he could still feel the phantom hands of the Inferi pulling him under water.

The hands of the dead grabbing at his arms and ankles pulling him deeper into the water, his head going under for a few seconds before his fight or flight kicked in and he began to struggle even though he fully intended on never leaving. Fully intended on succumbing to the water and what lurked in its depths. He felt his breathing pick up which did nothing to help the burning in his throat or the dryness of his mouth. He held his breath till he gasped for a deep breath that forced his breathing back under control. A trick he learned growing up to avoid unwanted attention or punishment.

He let his head hang over the side of his bed and groaned into the bedding wishing he was still unconscious. Or dead at the bottom of the Inferi lake like he was supposed to be. It certainly felt like he had one foot in the grave already.

“Master Regulus! Kreacher is relieved!” Regulus turned his head to the side and saw the upside-down version of Kreacher rushing toward him with a tray in hand. “Kreacher was worried Master Regulus wasn’t going to wake up!” Kreacher exclaimed while placing the tray down somewhere just outside his field of vision and snapped his fingers to clean the vomit off the floor.

It took Regulus a few seconds to register and process what the house elf had said.

“Kreacher why am I-” It would seem his stomach thought since he was opening his mouth that meant he should vomit more. This time, disgustingly, getting it in his hair.

Kreacher snapped his fingers again making the vomit disappear for a second time. Kreacher then gently moved Regulus so he was back to laying in his bed this time with his head facing towards the right instead of the ceiling. Giving him a view of the tray with potion bottles and a glass of water on top.

“Kreacher will take care of Master Regulus.” Kreacher carefully held the glass of water to Regulus’ lips instructing him to drink slowly. Once he drank most of the glass, which thankfully seemed to help settle his stomach as well as help his throat and get the taste of vomit out his mouth, he tried to ask his question a second time.

“Kreacher, what am I doing here? Yet alone alive?” The second question was the one he really wanted the answer too. Kreacher acted as if he hadn’t heard his question, content to rearrange his tray and open the potion bottles he was likely about to force down Regulus’ throat in the name of “taking care of him”.

“Kreacher.” At the sternness in Regulus’ voice, Kreacher turned to him.

“Kreacher does not know what Master Regulus means by his question.” He turned back to his tray and grabbed a potion labeled as a pain reliever and held it up. “Master Regulus must take potions now to get better. Like Kreacher had too.” Regulus drank the potion but refused to be distracted like Kreacher was trying to accomplish.

“Kreacher you were meant to leave me in the cave,” Regulus would have crossed his arms if he wasn’t laying down. He felt if he had done so while laying in bed he’d appear like a 5-year-old pouting about having to take gross-tasting potions while ill. Which he supposed wasn’t too far off aside from being 5 years old and pouting.

“Kreacher does not recall anything like that.” Kreacher grabbed another potion and held it out for Regulus to take.

“Kreacher, I know I told you to leave me behind.” Instead of responding Kreacher simply held up another potion. Regulus was beginning to wonder if Kreacher was actually giving him potions he needed or was trying to make him forget what he was talking about to get out of trouble. Especially when he began to feel drowsy.

“What did you just give me?” It took more effort to hold his eyes open.

“A dreamless sleep potion. Master Regulus needs rest.” Kreacher pulled the covers up and over Regulus. “You sneaky house elf.” Any response Kreacher may have given fell on deaf ears as Regulus could no longer hold his eyes open.

The second time he woke up he was once again staring at the ceiling. Although this time he thankfully didn’t feel the need to throw up but his stomach felt too empty to be comfortable. Regulus slowly sat up, careful of any injuries he may have gotten but it seemed Kreacher took care of any he would have had already. He was a very doting house elf. When he likes you that is. He never did take the best care of Sirius. That job always fell to Regulus to do anytime Sirius would get punished by Mother.

He looked around the room to see if Kreacher was there but found it empty. Kreacher seemed to have been back after drugging him since the tray now had a plate of food on it instead of potion bottles and a mostly empty glass.

Regulus set the plate in his lap and began to eat. Making sure to only hold the silverware over the plate so as not to get any on his bed. The food was still warm so Kreacher either was here recently or charmed it so it'll stay that way for when he woke up. He would have preferred to eat at his desk in the corner but he wasn’t sure his legs were up for walking just yet. So bed it was.

When he finished his plate of food he set it back on the tray. When he stretched his arm his sleeve moved revealing a small part of the Dark Mark. He pulled his sleeve up and just stared. He felt repulsed by the sight. His parents basically sold him out to a cult and now he was permanently branded. A mark that would never go away. A mark that would make everyone think he was a killer nevermind the fake he was never able to cast a forbidden curse. He just didn’t have the cruelty for it. Yet everyone would see him as cruel as a monster. He yanked his sleeve down wishing to be rid of the mark. He’d do anything to make it go away. But he could not turn back time. The only way he thought to get rid of the mark was to cut his arm off. If only he could cut it out somehow.

Maybe I could. It would hurt surely but with healing potions and spells. But would the mark still appear on healed skin? Would it appear over a scar?

He didn’t know. The only reason he did not grab the knife from the tray and try was the strategic advantage it gave him.

I’ll know when they meet. That could be beneficial in the future.

With his mind made up he called out quietly for Kreacher, aware Mother may be asleep since he was unsure what time it was.

There was pop and Kreacher was back to standing in his room. “Master Regulus called?”

Regulus nodded towards the plate, “Take that to the kitchen please.” Kreacher was quick to pick up the tray and when he got to the door paused as Regulus spoke again.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” the heaviness in his voice implied this wasn’t a simple thank you for taking the dishes away. Kreacher nodded his head saying, “Kreacher is happy to serve Master Regulus, for whatever he may need.” With that, the house elf went into the hall leaving Regulus alone once again.

Over the next few days Kreacher barely lets Regulus out of bed.

“Kreacher, I'm sure I can manage.” This seems to set Kreacher off again. “But Master Regulus still has cuts and scratches!” Regulus tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He knew the house elf was just worried about him, but he was being quite overbearing. Something he hadn’t been used to since Sirius started school.

“They are all superficial Kreacher. I’ve sat around for too long. We need to focus on destroying the locket and the library here doesn’t have the books I need. Speaking of destroying the locket, where is my wand?” Kreacher looked guilty.

“Kreacher, where is my wand?” Regulus was beginning to worry. If Kreacher didn’t have his wand he didn’t want to think where it was. Kreacher stared at the floor refusing to answer which was answer enough. Regulus felt his stomach drop to his feet. His wand, the thing he’s had since he was 11, a thing that gave him an escape during school with silly spark charms and harmless spells in the privacy of the abandoned third corridor and in the Come and Go room. His wand that was his safety blanket was stuck in the cave that haunted his nightmares. He wanted to ask Kreacher to go get it but he couldn’t put him through the cave a third time. He wasn’t sure Kreacher would make it out again. He’ll just have to make do without it. He took a deep breath and placed a hand on Kreacher's head that caused him to flinch.

“I’m not going to punish you Kreacher. I know you had to make a choice in little time. I’ll just have to go without it. I can always buy a new one from Ollivanders when we stop at Knockturn Alley.” Kreacher seemed to look even guiltier. Regulus had explained to Kreacher multiple times he had to go to Knockturn Alley to look for books on horcruxes, yet he was still determined to keep Regulus at home. Even more so he seemed determined to keep Regulus in his bedroom. Almost as if he is trying to hide something from Regulus. He turned to the house elf now feeling suspicious.

“Kreacher, are you hiding something?” Kreacher looked conflicted between being honest and continuing to hide whatever it was he didn’t want Regulus to know.

“Kreacher. Tell me,” his tone must have made Kreacher make a decision because he disappeared from the room.

“Oh for the love of- Kreacher you can’t hide from me!” Just as Regulus started to open his bedroom door Kreacher reappeared.

“Kreacher is not hiding. Kreacher thinks it's easier to show Master Regulus.” In his hands was The Daily Prophet. He held it out for Regulus to take and when he did he stared at the newspaper unable to comprehend what he was looking at.

Regulus Black heir to the Black Family Fortune Presumed Dead

After Regulus Arcturus Black, age 17, had gone missing earlier this month an investigation was conducted by The Ministry of Magic Auror Office. However, they were unable to find anything of his whereabouts. Due to the state of the Wizarding World today, and lack of evidence of where he could be, the young Black heir only a few days from turning 18 has been labeled “missing assumed dead” as of July 25th. If you have any information about what may have taken place contact the Auror Office. During his years at Hogwarts Regulus Black was a gift seeker….

The rest of the section talked about his time at Hogwarts. Empty words to make his death seem more heartbreaking than it was. Flowery language to make him sound like someone who should be missed. A light that went out too soon.

“July 25th? Kreacher, what day is it?” Kreacher looked at the floor again before answering him.

“July 27th Master Regulus.” The 27th of July. A day before his birthday. He had gone to get the locket on the 3rd. Some time between then and now people looked for him only for him to be hiding in his bedroom. People believed he was dead. Due to the state of the Wizarding World. Do they assume The Dark Lord killed him? Do they think he died during a fight with Dumbedore’s Order? Do they think he just got scared and ran? What about his mother? She’s been home, how could she not know he’s here. Yes her health has declined since father died earlier in May but surely she'd be aware enough to realize her own son was in his bedroom. He tried to focus his thoughts on his mother to avoid the family member he really wanted to think about. He knew if he began to think about how his brother may react to his supposed death he’d just hurt himself more. It was better not to think about him at all.

“Does mother not realize I’m home?” Regulus was fearful of the answer. If she truly didn’t know then her health was worse than he thought.

“Mistress was the one who went to the Auror Office. She hasn’t left her room. Kreacher takes her food and drink.” Kreacher sounded saddened by the state Walburga Black was in even if she was never kind to him.

“Does she eat?” Regulus asked, feeling concern for his mother even if she was never kind to him either. “Mistress eats what Kreacher brings and she reads books Kreacher gets.” Even as Kreacher said it Regulus could tell his mother wasn’t doing well.

He continued walking towards the door determined to go see for himself. Kreacher didn’t even bother to stop him as he left his room. Once he got to the stairs instinct took over as he avoided creaking steps and lips in the stairs that never got fixed, stepping over the dent at the bottom from where his shoulder hit the floor when Father had thrown him down the staircase at age 11. He slowed once he got to the third floor and stared at his mothers bedroom door knowing he was never allowed to go in there. Taking a deep breath he marched up to the door and raised his hand to knock.

He froze as a thought occurred to him.

This is my chance to get away.

Away from the abuse and screams. Away from the unrealistic expectations and pain.

He could leave. Leave and go wherever he wants. Be whoever he wants. He could run away and Mother would never come dragging him back kicking and screaming. He could leave like Sirius did. There were plenty of old homes under his family name that were abandoned and no longer used. His Great Aunt Dorea had a home out in the country that has sat empty since she died.

“Kreacher.” Regulus turned from the door and walked back to the stairs. “Pack me my trunk.” Hemsaid before running down the three staircases toward the library while Kreacher went back up the stairs towards Regulus’ room.

He paused when he passed the door to the drawing room. He walked into the room and stared at the family tapestry. He ran his fingers over the burn marks. Iala, Phineas, Marius, Cedrella, Alphard, Andromeda, Sirius.

He stared at their names, unable to get their choices out of his head.

Married a muggle, supported muggle rights, a squib, married a Weasley, gave Sirius money after he was disowned, married to a muggleborn, ran away.

All labeled blood traitors. He stared at Sirius’ name the longest. Was he a blood traitor now? Running away from the Dark Lord and finding a way for him to die certainly felt like being a blood traitor. What would Sirius think of him now? Would he be proud of him? Would he even care? Would he feel anything at all? Or would he ignore him like he did at school after running away? Did he cry at the newspaper article announcing his death or would he not even bat an eye at what was once his baby brother dying? Would he be happy he’s gone? Would he laugh with his friends and cheer about his death? After all, he was no longer Sirius’ brother. He made that clear the night he ran away after Regulus refused to go with him. He was just another Death Eater to fight against. To kill. Regardless of the fact he didn’t want to be one in the first place. Regardless that he didn’t have the cruelty to make him one. Regardless of the fact he never had the hatred to use a forbidden curse. Whenever he was supposed to, all he could think of was how much it hurt to be under his mothers wand and he wasn’t able to do that to someone else. He just didn’t have the stomach for it.

People always said growing up me and Sirius were alike. I guess we are still alike.More so than I thought.

He grabbed a candle off the table nearby and practically ran downstairs to the kitchen in the basement. He knew the stove in the kitchen was lit without magic. He lit the candle using the fire from the stove and walked as quickly as he could without blowing the candle out. He stared at the tapestry debating if he was making the right decision.

There's no going back.

Taking a deep breath he held the candle to his own name and watched it burn.