Chapter 1
"No... No, no, no, no, no, no, please, no, it can't be..." Sirius whispers in a broken voice, hoarse and desperate, "James..."
James takes his gaze away from the radio and looks at Sirius, just as broken, with eyes full of tears.
They walk toward each other and fall heavily into an embrace, holding each other tightly.
"James, I just got him back, I can't... please, please, it's my little brother..."
"I know, Sirius," James whispers, tucking his nose into his friend's hair, "I know."
Sirius can't believe what he's hearing. Regulus, his stupid little brother, too gentle for this world, forced to cover himself with several layers of armor, is dead. Dead, and he doesn't know where his body is.
Dead.
Regulus won't look at him with that sarcastic look again, won't snap at him for another stupid thing. His younger brother, the one who looked at him like he was a hero. That look changed from aggression to tenderness, filled with such overpowering love that it took his breath away.
Regulus, his beloved little brother.
All the happy memories with him overlapped with the image of a breathless body, cold and lonely.
He doesn't even remember the last thing he said to his brother. Were they words of love? Or was it a scathing insult? Did Regulus die with the idea that he meant nothing to Sirius? Not knowing that hurts.
Sirius feels tears streaming down his face. He bites his lip, but the thought of his brother is so strong, so hitting him, that he eventually gives up and breaks down.
He sobs in James' arms, clutching his shirt in his hands.
He screams, breaking his voice.
He screams and screams and screams. He screams until he feels a pain in his throat so intense that it leaves him no chance to even continue.
He rests his forehead against James's shoulder and sobs, quietly and brokenly.
"It's my brother, James..."
***
Regulus opens his eyes with a stifled sigh, coughing sharply.
"What the hell?" he whispers to himself, groping his throat.
He remembers vividly the cold, wet hands of the dead, scraping at his skin with sharp claws.
He remembers the thirst in his chest, the desperate need for water, pushing him toward the lake.
He still feels like his skin is covered in blood, chunks of shreds falling off his body. He feels a phantom pain, as if he is still being torn apart, breaking.
He can't help himself, clutching his hair in his hands so hard that it sends jabs of pain further down his body. He hides his head between his knees, breathing frequently.
Regulus feels bad, he's dead, he knows he should be dead.
And if he isn't, then...
What was it all for?
Did he really screw up even here?
***
He goes to Pandora, squeezes her tightly in his arms, and cries.
He feels her gently stroking his back, softly whispering soothing words.
This does little to help, the ghostly sensation of water in his lungs hasn't left him, but it has loosened his grip.
"What's the matter, little star?" whispers Pandora affectionately.
Regulus, against all odds, all his thoughts, tells her. Of all people, it is with Pandora that he has shared such an incredible story.
She strokes his hair, kisses his forehead, and smiles softly.
"It really is a bad dream."
Regulus shakes his head, desperate and wild.
"I know, I know it's not a dream, Dora!"
She looks at him with her beautiful eyes and hums thoughtfully.
"Perhaps. If it happens again, come see me again, okay? Until then, get some rest, honey."
He has nothing to do but nod. The water in his lungs is bubbling.
***
He enjoys Evan and Barty's company, sits in class with a strange sense of deja vu and feels a scratchy feeling in his chest.
Sirius turns away from him, flashing his eyes angrily.
His mother squeezes his hands in a tight grip and whispers longingly, "Silly child."
His father looks down at him with a cold and pity-filled gaze.
Kreacher fusses around, but obediently disappears when his mother orders him to.
The dead men drag him under the water.
***
His hands shake the closer his sixteenth birthday comes.
His mother smiles at him, almost proudly, smooths his unruly hair and says softly, affectionately, "You will swear allegiance to him."
And there is no going back.
***
He clutches Pandora's cardigan in his hands, sitting on his knees in the kitchen with the elves.
"I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to... It's horrible, they'll kill me, Dora," he lifts his tearful eyes to his friend and sees her smiling at him, sad and wistful.
"Would you prefer your happiness to theirs?"
He can't answer.
Never could.
***
Nevertheless, Pandora stays by his side.
She is a constant in his life. Constant and reliable, supportive as his own family hasn't been for a long time.
She gently holds his hands in hers, strokes his clean wrist and looks so, so tenderly.
"Dora..." he whispers with pleading in his voice.
"Reggie," she replies and bangs her forehead softly, "Reggie..."
Tears drip quietly from his cheeks, ignored. He feels a pain in his chest, unrelated to the usual association of death. It is now pure despair, a need for escape.
The fearful dream has receded to the back of his mind. He cannot be distracted by childish nonsense.
Regulus swallows hard, meets Pandora's gaze and slumps his shoulders in relief when he realizes there isn't an ounce of judgment in her eyes.
"You do what you can to survive in that house," as if answering the girl's unspoken question, "and I will accept whatever you do as long as you live."
He closes his eyes and cries into his best friend's shoulder.
***
Regulus feels the ghostly touch of his fingers on his hair, the phantom feeling of Pandora's comfort.
This is quickly drowned out by animal terror, leaving no room for any other emotion.
He stands surrounded by Death Eaters, stubbornly holding the stoic mask in place, but it seems that everyone can see through it.
The Dark Lord before him is the epitome of power, dangerous and swirling on the surface, hidden by nothing.
"Young Black," he hisses, sending shivers through his body, "so young, so inexperienced..."
Regulus feels a chill pierce through his bones, he can't feel his hands and can't even seem to breathe.
"Your mother swore you were faithful to me. Was she right?" the wand taps threateningly against his throne.
His throat is as dry as a desert. Nevertheless, the words themselves come out, hoarse and rough (he prays that they will write it off as a rapture of adulation).
"Yes, my lord," he bows, feeling an ominous sense of anticipation that does not bode well.
"In that case, I hope you will prove yourself properly, young Black," the tip of his wand touches his left wrist almost lovingly, marking it as his own.
Regulus barely has time to exhale in relief that it went so easily before he falls to the floor with a cry.
Pain, more intense than he'd ever felt before, burns through his arm, spreading lightning-fast through his body.
He squirms like a frying pan, trying to bite his lip to hold back his screams, but only bleeding and still screaming.
He scratches his forearm in agony, throws his head back and feels it smack against the cold floor.
He can't take a breath, wheezing and feeling the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the pain won't let up.
His ears ring so hard that he can't immediately hear the squealing laughter of the people around him, angry and enthusiastic.
He is just beginning to relax when a new tidal wave of pain overwhelms him.
Exhausted for the rest of his days, he only whimpers, but is relieved to know that at least there are no tears.
His back arches, his mouth opens in a soundless cry. His hands try to grab onto something, but they only scratch the stone floor, bringing only more pain.
Finally, exhausted, he collapses to the floor, worth the pain to recede.
Regulus turns his head, sees the Dark Lord's cold eyes on him, and tries to get his throat to work.
Desperately he tries to utter "my lord," but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper, eliciting laughter all around.
"Welcome, young Black, we will bring the magical world to its knees."
Never before had he felt more insignificant than he did now, lying miserably on the floor under the gaze of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, who regarded him as nothing more than a pathetic wimp.
He wasn't sure he could deny it.
***
It's amazing how one event can dramatically change a person's life. The world seems gray and tasteless, nothing else can bring him joy.
He looks at the stars in the night sky, shining and glittering, which once gave him a pleasant thrill. Now he looks at them blankly and coldly.
He turns away and walks toward the exit, as if in delirium.
***
He sits with Barty and Evan, watching them laugh and kick each other like little kids, and thinks he might like to be carefree a little longer.
He knows his hands are clean, but the feeling of blood under his fingernails doesn't leave his chest.
***
When Regulus commits his first murder, he looks into the eyes of a young girl, young and innocent. She pleads with him like a wretched creature at his feet, her gaze full of terror so intense it could twist his stomach.
But Bellatrix snorts mockingly behind his back, looking at him appraisingly.
He arches an eyebrow and looks one last time into the life-filled brown eyes, glistening with accumulated tears, and utters indifferently, "Avada kedavra."
"Good job, cousin. Maybe you won't be completely useless."
She walks away, smirking like a predator, leaving Regulus cold and empty standing over the corpse, staring blankly into the sky.
***
He can't stop seeing the terror-filled eyes in his dreams, haunting him like a malevolent spirit.
***
He rubs his body under a scalding hot stream until his body aches and his head clears of the image of a breathless body.
***
He squirms on the floor, gritting his teeth, but not letting his scream out.
He scratches his hands, beats his head and whimpers, but does not scream.
***
He thinks it would be better to die than to live the way he does.
***
Pandora looks at him, but he can't make out her emotions.
She touches his shoulder, and he shudders with his whole body, so unused to tenderness now.
She shushes him softly, encloses him in an embrace that hides him from the world.
"You can come to me when it's really bad, you know that, don't you? Even Barty would understand, and you know how he is."
Regulus doesn't answer.
***
His mother strokes his cheek, affectionately and gently. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"My sweet son, my pride," and she sounds almost as if she means it, "you are the future of our house."
I wonder what would happen to their house if he died.
Purely hypothetically.
***
Distantly, he realizes that he is suggesting that the Dark Lord use Kreacher for his task, but the fog in his mind keeps him from focusing.
Regulus returns to the cold house and stares blankly at the ceiling.
I wonder what Sirius is thinking?
Ah.
Sirius hates him.
Sometimes he forgets.
The mark burns his wrist.
***
Kreacher returns, trembling and crying, but obediently doing his bidding.
Perhaps for the first time in a very long time, he opens his eyes and actually sees the world around him.
"Kreacher, speak."
And so the elf does.
He talks and talks, through tears and trembling as Regulus tries to help him, he talks about the cave and the locket, about the thirst for water so strong that there was no way to avoid it, about magic so dark that it twisted his stomach.
He opens his eyes and knows what he must do now.
***
With renewed determination, Regulus takes up his mission.
Self-absorbed, he reads for days and nights on end, careful not to show any of the Death Eaters that he plans to make their dear Dark Lord sorry.
He growls and gets angry when book after book doesn't give him an answer.
His room, once neat and clean, is littered with papers, books, and quills, but none of that matters, because eventually he finds the coveted answer.
Horcrux.
***
He looks at Evan and Barty, at every feature of their faces, their wide and toothy smiles, the heavy strokes on each other and the tenderness in their eyes, memorizing.
His friends joke and laugh loudly, throwing their heads back.
All they are is chaos in its purest form.
Regulus loves it.
He's going to miss it.
***
Pandora looks at him as if she already knows what he plans to do.
"You have to be careful what you do, you know?" she whispers fiercely, squeezing her shoulders tightly and not averting her gaze, "you will come back and live, Regulus, do you hear me?"
"Wow, Dora," he drawls, smiling broadly, looking fondly at his friend, "will you miss me? All softened up."
Pandora snorts, pursing her lips. She looks into his eyes so intently, as if she hopes to see something in them that will reassure her.
Sorry to disappoint.
She understands that.
Pandora swallows hard, pulls Regulus against her and bites her nose into his hair.
"Please don't die."
Regulus doesn't answer. Instead, he hugs her back, just as tightly.
***
Kreacher leads him into the cave.
Kreacher leads him to the goblet.
Kreacher asks him not to.
"I can't make you do it a second time, can I, old friend?" he whispers and sees his elf about to argue, "that's an order, Kreacher."
He drinks from the goblet. It's disgusting, but it's not that hard. He doesn't relax.
Regulus takes sip after sip until he hears Sirius' extended "wow, I didn't know you were such a wuss, Reggie."
His heart races in a wild rhythm.
He turns so sharply that his neck hurts, but stubbornly doesn't take his eyes off his brother.
He looks no worse than before: hair falling over his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest, a healthy blush on his cheeks, brilliant gray eyes, and oh, the evil, so evil look.
"I knew you were a bastard, but that bad? Death Eater, Reggie?" the affectionate nickname from his lips sounds like an insult, "betrayed one side and now the other? That must be your calling."
Regulus drinks from the goblet. Sirius' figure disintegrates. He ignores the way his hand trembles.
His mother's cold voice sounds too close to his ear: "Shame."
The icy look in her eyes ties him in place. She doesn't touch him, but the feeling of nails digging into his shoulder is there.
He doesn't drink, but someone brings a goblet to his mouth.
He looks away.
He is forced to drink.
The mother screams. She hurls insults, shrieking, hitting right on the spot every time. After all, this is what she does best.
He sees Sirius again, looking at him with hatred. It hurts.
He drinks.
He sees Evan, who looks furious.
"Really, Regulus? I trusted you! Of all people, you were one of my closest and this is what you do to me?"
He drinks.
He sees Barty, all disheveled and seething.
"I was the first one to tell you about my father and you just turned your back on me. Regulus..." he chuckles bitterly, "I don't know why I expected more from you."
It stings.
He drinks.
His heart skips a beat when he sees Pandora.
She looks at him softly, almost touching his cheek.
"Just a little while longer, Reggie, and this will be over." She promises, "Just a little bit, you're doing so well, honey."
He drinks.
Pandora gently encourages him.
He finishes his cup and the dryness in his throat forces him to look around desperately.
"Over here, Reggie," his friend's soft voice calls.
Pandora stands at the edge of the lake, beckoning him.
"Come on, Reggie, it's safe here," he hesitates, and Pandora shakes her head lovingly, "don't you trust me?"
He trusts.
Regulus crawls to the lake, reaches for the water with trembling hands.
He takes desperate sips, finally getting rid of the gnawing thirst.
He looks around and doesn't see Pandora.
"Master Regulus!" he hears Kreacher call roughly.
Cold hands grab his legs and pull him sharply under the water.
He growls, trying to kick them, but the hands get bigger and bigger.
"Master Regulus!" Kreacher looks conflicted with the medallion in his hand and the order to leave, but the need to save his master.
"Get out, Kreacher! That's an order!" growls Regulus, twitching desperately as he hears the crack of apparatus.
He can feel the teeth closing against his skin, sharp and blunt, tugging at him and tearing pieces off.
Regulus opens his mouth to scream or spit insults, he doesn't know, because at the same moment he is jerked sharply again, submerged.
He gasps, struggling desperately, trying to break free, but there are many more dead men.
They are squeezing him, breaking and pulling him.
He feels despair give way to pathetic humility. Regulus makes one last attempt to break free.
Sirius would surely be disappointed in him.
He should have apologized to Pandora. Too bad he won't be doing that anymore.
The water boils in his lungs.
He closes his eyes and hopes Kreacher can destroy the Horcrux.