Regulus had hoped he'd die on a nicer day.
He stood on the cliff, staring out at the swirling water below, agitated from the constant battering wind. Waves crashed on the rocks, creating a haunting song of salt and foam. The strong sea breeze whipped around his face and tousled his hair. On the horizon, a storm was brewing– dark clouds blotted out the grey England sky. A grimace lifted Regulus’ lips. “How fitting.”
Getting into the cave was easier than he imagined. One apparation from Kreacher and they were standing on the outer rim of a massive lake, lit up by an eerie green light, casting shadows around the cavern. Ripples from the lake danced on the walls and the ceiling. He could make out a centre to the cave, the origin of the green glow.
He strode around the cavern, looking for the way to get across the lake, Kreacher scurrying after him. “Where was the boat, Kreacher,” he asked, looking down at the elf.
“I’m not quite sure, Master Regulus, I’m sorry.” He sniffled, mumbling to himself as he padded ahead. “It was somewhere over here, Kreacher thinks.” He halted and turned around to look up at Regulus.
“Thank you, Kreacher.” He looked around, feeling for any magical infrequencies in the surrounding area. A quiet buzzing sound resounded from just over the water near where Kreacher had stopped. He grabbed the air and pulled.
A chain appeared in his hand, cold and heavy, connected to something in the depths of the lake. Regulus tugged hard, the chain emerging from the water, bringing with it an ornate but shabby boat, so small it could’ve hardly held a singular person. It bobbed to the surface, its intricate figurehead gaunt and glaring at Regulus as he carefully stepped into the boat, Kreacher scrambling in after.
As soon as they were seated, the boat lurched forwards, cutting through the glass-like water, gliding towards the glowing middle. They both sat in silence, Regulus staring out and down at the stretch of lake before him. Flashes of movement caught his eye, but were gone as soon as he focussed any harder. He shivered but blamed it on the cold.
The boat bumped gently on the side of the small island in the middle of the lake. He stepped out quickly, climbing to the middle of the small island. He stared down at the basin, sitting high apon an intricately carved stone pedestal. It was filled to the brim with an emerald-coloured liquid– the thing, Regulus then realised, that was emitting the green glow.
“This is what the Dark Lord made Kreacher drink, Master Regulus,” Kreacher piped up, shivering as he said it. “Kreacher will drink again if Master asks of it,” he said, looking up at Regulus, eyes glowing with green light.
“No, Kreacher, I won’t submit you to that again.” He said firmly, picking up the crystal chalice and dipping it into the potion, watching as it flowed smoothly into the cup. Kreacher protested loudly as Regulus brought the chalice up, holding it in front of him.
“Kreacher.” He said, cutting out his babbled protests. “I need you to- no. I command you to keep feeding me this potion until it's all gone.” His breath hitched. “Please.”
Kreacher looked at him with misery in his eyes, but nodded his head quickly. Regulus raised the chalice up to his lips and drank.
* * *
Pain. So much pain. Past, present and future blending together. Sadness, heartache, regret, washing over him. His worst moments, his most painful memories, playing on loop, over and over and over and over and-
* * *
Thirsty. So goddamn thirsty.
* * *
Pale hands grabbed every part of his body that they could reach, their grips bruising. Regulus looked around wildly, watching in horror as more and more of those things emerged from the water. He struggled, crying out as their nails dug into his flesh. He shot spell after spell at them but they stayed unaffected. Kreacher was crying out, calling his name - frozen in shock from the scene before him.
The locket pressed into his hand, cold and hostile. “Kreacher! Come here, please,” he begged as he was slowly pulled towards the edge of the island, towards the dark depths of the lake. Kreacher scampered towards him, eyes bulging in terror.
“Master! Master please!” He sobbed. Regulus held out his hand, opening it to reveal the locket. “We don’t have time, Kreacher, take it.” Regulus rasped quietly.
“NO! I will not leave you Master!” Kreacher cried out. Regulus was pulled further back. “Kreacher. I order you to take the locket and leave me here. You have to destroy the locket.” Regulus commanded.
Kreacher’s eyes filled with tears. Cried at the orders he had to obey. Kreacher snatched the locket from Regulus’ outstretched palm as the things tugged him into the water. He vaguely registered the crack of Kreacher disapparating. Relief washed over him. Kreacher was safe, with the locket. At least he wouldn’t die in vain. At least Tom Riddle was one step closer to falling from his throne.
The water was freezing, as he expected. He thrashed, trying to get free. No use. He took his last gulp of air.
Although he had made up his mind, come to the conclusion he might die today, nothing could ever prepare him to actually die . He thought he would take it in stride, die knowing it was for a good cause, die being not scared, peaceful, even. He writhed and fought, bubbles flowing out of his nose and mouth, up to somewhere where, as hard as he wished, he could not follow.
But, he didn’t want to think about that. He was dying, for god's sake– he didn’t have enough time to dwell on the thoughts of living. His mind drifted to his favourite place. Home.
As he was dragged into the depths, he thought of the sun. He thought of his bright smile, his unruly hair. His rich, colourful presence whenever he walked into a room. The way he could make anyone smile. He thought of his sun.
James.
James.
James.
The water echoed his name like a symphony. They didn’t have enough time.
Hands continued to drag him down. He wasn’t scared anymore.
His breath was running out. Tears streamed out of his eyes and mixed with the currents in the lake. He wasn’t scared anymore.
His lungs slowly filled up with water. He looked up, up through the hole in the ceiling. Up into the heavens. Up at the stars. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed forever were his brother’s stars winking down at him.
Sirius.
Not enough time.