one final letter
“And what the hell is wrong with you?” Sirius hurled at him, pushing his shoulder back with such force that he fell back a step.
“We almost had him,” James shot back, throwing a hand up and walking away. The safehouse was barely bigger than a flat but he still tried to put some distance between them to give them both an opportunity to calm down.
“Are you out of your mind? He was going to kill you. Did you not see the fucking bomb in his hand? If I hadn’t gotten you out of there, we both would’ve died for nothing,” Sirius fumed, his face red and eyes blazing.
He heard thumping and when he turned he saw Lily slowly descending the stairs, “What’s going on?” she asked, eyeing them both warily.
“James here is on a suicide mission,” Sirius supplied quickly, a sarcastic look marring his face.
He groaned and faced her, “I am not. We were on patrol at St. Mungos and I saw a man walk in front of the building five times looking suspicious. No one else thought it was an issue but I followed after him and lo and behold, I was right. He had a bomb with him and he was scouting out the area to see where he could plant it.”
“What he’s failing to mention is that he led James right into a trap- he planned on taking down as many Aurors as possible as well,” Sirius scoffed, shaking his head as he threw his maroon outer robes on the decrepit sofa and kicked his shoes off by the door.
“Hold on, I made the schedule for this week’s patrols- James, you’re meant to be with Dorcas doing research,” Lily corrected, coming in closer and leaning up to catch his gaze. Her searching green eyes scorched his own and he knew he had been caught.
“He switched with Mary for it-.”
“I don’t know anything about research so I didn’t see the point,” he finished off for Sirius, trying to reason with her.
“The point is so you don’t get overworked or burnt out so mistakes like this don’t happen,” she reasoned, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing gently to stop him from trying to escape.
“He’s just mad that Regulus is gone and he thinks that staying on an adrenaline high is the right way to cope,” Sirius said harshly before adding, “I’m going home tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow Lils, and Prongs, I love you but you better not be there tomorrow.” He left, heading up the stairs to go clean up and rest quickly.
Finally, ensconced in silence and left to marinate over the blame placed onto him, James quietly admitted, “He’s right y’know.”
Lily hummed noncommittally, walking over to the kitchenette to prepare them both a cup of tea. She went through the motions of silently pulling out two dusty mugs from a cupboard, refreshing them, and placing tea leaves in both while she waited for the water to heat up in a kettle.
“Regulus has been gone for two weeks now and not a single bit of communication. Evan says that it’s better we don’t hear from him and that Voldemort hasn’t said anything to either of them but it doesn’t make me feel any better. And sitting around just makes me feel even more helpless than I already am,” he sighed, throwing his glasses aside, and dropping his head in his hands, pulling absently at the errant pieces of hair that fell over his forehead.
Once the tea was finished, she came over and sat on the rickety stool opposite him. The room was cold and draughty but closeby to their upcoming missions. It was also getting increasingly dangerous to be out in the open anymore for most of them who have made their positions well known. Death eaters would likely try to pick them off one by one at their own homes if they still lived there full time. The same went for muggle borns and certain half bloods as well.
“So do you think running headfirst into danger is the right way to cope?” she asked genuinely, her eyes imploring as she blew lightly at the caramel coloured tea in her cup.
He scoffed, “No of course not but-.”
“How do you think Regulus would feel if he knew that you were off doing impulsive things in the name of keeping yourself occupied?” she then asked, placing her mug aside and resting her chin on her closed fist looking exactly the part of a concerned therapist.
“Why should I care when he- nevermind,” he murmured, looking away and taking a sip of scalding tea just so he had something to do.
“James, is there something else going on?” she asked, leaning forward, her brows knitted in concern.
“No, I’m sorry Lils, it’s just been a long day. I promise I won’t disrespect your schedule again,” he smiled tiredly and to his relief, she did too.
She finished off her cup and stood up and before she left the room, she stopped by his chair and dropped a warm hand on his shoulder, “You better not, now get some sleep.” She left in a haze of lavender and vanilla, ever the calming and supportive presence.
Ever since Regulus told Evan to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to trust those around him, he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. He knew Regulus was a bit paranoid and found it hard to trust others but he wasn’t exactly mad- he wouldn’t have just said that for no reason.
Yes James knew he had been going out excessively on missions and was a bit more rash than usual because he wanted to stop stewing over where Regulus was but he also wanted to see those around him in action more- he wanted to see how they acted should something go down, how quick were they to catch others, what kinds of spells they used, that sort of thing.
He wanted to meet Regulus halfway somewhere, to try and find out the meaning of his words himself but he was, until now, unsuccessful in finding anyone suspicious in the Order.
Perhaps, instead of ruminating over Regulus, he could use all that time and brain power towards something actually productive. Like for example, the whole issue with his memory- He had told Evan that his memory wasn’t working correctly- that doesn’t just come out of nowhere either.
He stood up, grabbed his cloak, and left through the front door.
He looked left and right from the porch, and randomly chose right, beginning to walk in that direction towards the rambled forest. He just needed a breath of fresh air and the cool winter-kissed evening provided that for him, the air smelling of pine and freshly turned earth, with the ground soft under his feet. It wasn’t quite cold enough for snow here but it was refreshing all the same.
He shut his eyes contentedly, admittedly tripping over the occasional stone, but enjoying the relative detachment from everything else as he listened to birds chatter above him and leaves rustle in the breeze.
Regulus trusted him so he needed to trust him in turn- it was a mantra that he had to repeat to himself nonstop so as to resist the urge to go out looking for him. He remembered that Evan had to remind Sirius that Regulus was an adult and while that mollified Sirius a bit, it didn’t help him at all.
A sudden ringing noise, loud and piercing, ripped through the night and for a second he tapped on the pockets of his trousers before realising the cloak he was wearing and he then reached into the pocket on the inside of his right breast. He pulled out the gold disk that each Order member carried with them and saw that Fabian was in danger.
They had recently each been given golden disks to carry with them so should they ever be in mortal danger and unable to reach help themselves, someone could come help them. Most of the time it was linked to a certain person and so Fabian was still linked to James from when they last went out on a mission together the week prior.
Thankfully, the disk also functioned as a location device so he turned on his heel and ran back home.
Running up the stairs, he hurriedly alerted Sirius and Lily, quickly informing them that Fabian needed help as he pulled on his shoes and gathered anything they might need.
Once they were all ready, he tapped the disk with his wand and they were out in less than a minute.
__________
“What the hell happened?” he questioned as he jogged up into the house.
“We came upon a werewolf pack that was attacking a muggle family in the forest. They spotted us before we saw them and we tried fighting them off but they overpowered us. I apparated Fabian and I away but they got him badly,” Peter rambled, trying to match their pace as he followed them deeper into the house.
“Did they- is he-?” he froze, staring back at Peter.
“I don’t know,” he hoarsed, looking at a loss for words.
When they came upon the living room, there was a family of five- a middle-aged man and woman, two boys, and a young girl all passed out on various sofas likely in a magically induced slumber, and bleeding from various different injuries.
He walked between them, carefully staying out of the mediwitches and wizards’ way, and tried to get a better look at everyone.
The couple both had head wounds, blunt force, to the back of their heads. One boy, seemingly the oldest, had a long laceration on his back while the other had bruises littering his bare upper body. The youngest girl had a scar that ran along her face and down to her neck that, judging on the stitching, would likely never fade away.
He stood between them all, arms folded and head resting on his chin, trying to make sense of any of it.
The werewolf packs were certainly inhumane and aggressive and they found joy in hurting muggles before eventually turning them or killing them, based on what mood they were in. Their injuries could have been a sign of them playing with their food before eating it but they all just seemed too…perfect?
The girl’s scar was an even clean line, from eyebrow, to temple, down over her cheek, and to her clavicle. It had completely missed her eye and lip which both would’ve been intersected and scarred had the line been straight. Both the boys’ conditions didn’t seem really all that life threatening either, just extremely painful, and the parents’-
“Where’s Fabian?” Sirius asked a man in dark blue robes who had come down to greet them and he went over to join them.
His face was grave as he looked at the four of them. He took his glasses off and instantly, James was reminded of the Healer’s face when he told him the news about his mum in the hospital all that time ago,
“No,” he choked out before the Healer even spoke.
Sirius and Peter looked at him before turning back to the Healer as he said, “I’m sorry.”
“How?” Lily whimpered.
“He had a laceration to his neck. It cut his carotid artery and unfortunately, he had lost too much blood by the time he got here and we were unable to staunch the bleeding or replenish his blood. We tried everything we could. The mediwitches upstairs are now preparing…him.” What he was going to say was that they were preparing his body.
“Oh god,” Lily covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, crying. Sirius and Peter, also crying, went with her.
“And them?” he asked, jerking his head towards the family in the sitting room.
The Healer sagged a bit then and nodded, “They’ll be fine. Some of their injuries were a bit severe but with magic, they’ll be okay within a few hours. Thankfully, none of their injuries were fatal- a small blessing”
He nodded, “Okay, I can stay behind to do the Obliviations-.”
“There’s no need,” he waved a hand.
He tilted his head a bit in confusion.
Picking up on that, the Healer continued, “Oh yeah, they were obliviated before they were brought here. I think one of the werewolves did it, you know how their magic works a bit differently to ours.”
That didn’t make any sense but so as to not hold him up any longer, he pretended to understand and let him go back to tending the patients.
Sirius came over to him. He was pale and his eyes were a bright red as he scrubbed rough hands over them, “I’ll go with Lily to HQ to tell everyone what happened.”
He nodded, uncomprehending that Fabian’s lifeless body was upstairs right now. He subconsciously glanced towards the stairs like he’d come running down them any second now, laughing at his newest prank, like he so often had at school.
James was almost grateful that Fabian hadn’t switched him out as his contact just so he was among the first to know. That gave him at least five extra seconds to process that he was in danger in comparison to if the news just suddenly dropped onto him. He pulled the gold coin out of his pocket and it had gone cold and blank, waiting to be linked to someone else.
Lily pulled him into a bone crushing hug before leaving and unable to do anything else, he went out to the front porch and sat on the steps leading out to the gravel road out front, needing a bit of quiet to process the grief that was threatening to pull him under now. He didn’t want to go back home yet nor did he want to go to the safehouse. He didn’t want to do anything anymore.
Thinking of Fabian served to bring him to his knees but it had also dredged up the memory of his parents and the old grief mixing with the new served as a horrific concoction that warred in his mind.
He wondered now, as he so often did, what the point of this war was when the cost of human lives was climbing higher and higher.
He heard a shuffle behind him and saw out of his peripheral vision that Peter was coming down to join him. His face was red and splotchy but he was otherwise whole. There was a bandage wrapping up and down the length of his hand though so must have gotten injured at some point but it didn’t seem all that serious.
He turned then, blue eyes gleaming, as he said “James, I didn’t want to say anything inside but I think I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?” he huffed, a bit annoyed at the interruption..
“It’s just- when we came upon the wolf pack. I mean, I can’t be sure, but I think I saw Remus there with them.”
He didn’t even process what he said before he whipped around so fast he was sure he pulled something in his neck, “Why would you say that?”
He immediately backed down, “I’m just saying, I think I saw him, I didn’t mean to-.”
“Remus is literally with Marlene right now, why would you just assume he was with the packs?” he asked, feeling anger burn up within him. He was just grateful that Peter didn’t say any of that in front of Sirius who probably would’ve lost his mind.
His eyes widened and flashed with something he couldn’t catch, “Alright sorry, I must’ve just gotten confused with everything that was going on.”
His apology helped calm him a bit but he was still on edge because of Fabian, the discomfort and grief skittering along his veins and making him jumpy.
“I’m sorry, I just- haven’t been myself lately,” he sighed, trying to staunch back the wave of fresh tears that burned the backs of his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes so hard he could see black and white shapes dance painfully along his vision.
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s only Regulus- he just- nevermind,” he cut himself off, remembering what he said about not wanting to tell anyone that he had left school let alone anything that had happened since.
Peter was silent for a few long moments, “What happened with Regulus?” His voice had turned a bit icy and he dropped his hands to look at him again. His face turned even redder than before and his brows knit and James couldn’t understand the sudden switch in demeanor though maybe he was feeling a delayed reaction to the news about Fabian as he was.
He didn’t want to upset him any further so just calmly said, “No nothing. It’s just that- I miss him,” he finished lamely.
He sagged a bit, his shoulders rounding, “Oh…that’s sad.”
“Yeah but that’s just how it is,” he shrugged, a bit put on edge about his behaviour, how stilted and variable it was at the moment, as though every word he said changed something in him.
“I get it,” he agreed sympathetically and rested a hand on his, squeezing once before standing up, “Well I’ll see you at the meeting, I’m sure Dumbledore will call an emergency one soon after tonight.”
He made to leave, walking down the steps and Peter was about to apparate away when he remembered, “Hey, who obliviated the people inside? The Healer mentioned their memories were already altered.”
He looked confused too and shrugged, “Not sure, werewolf magic maybe?”
He was gone before he could question him any further.
__________
Molly’s screams and cries echoed around his skull, bashing against his cranium so painfully that he almost cried tears of relief when Pete suggested that they go back to his.
His family was out, visiting some aunt in Leicester so it was blissfully quiet.
The instant they landed, Pete turned over his shoulder and asked, “Drink?”
Sirius gratefully accepted, watching with satisfaction as he slowly poured firewhiskey in a short crystal class, a healthy amount over the standard two finger rule as well. He poured himself a glass too before handing one to him and dropping into the chair across from him, throwing his head against the back of it.
“Today was such a bad day,” he moaned and really, that just about summed it up,
“I wonder when we’re going to have a day that isn’t bad,” he agreed, taking a healthy swig of the drink and relishing in the way it burned down his throat, settling hot and sweet in his stomach. “Hey, I meant to ask- are you okay? I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to see the werewolves like that, horrible what happened to that family,” he sighed.
Peter’s face was grave, “Fabian and I were just joking about seeing something in the forest but we never thought we’d come across something like that.” An angry blush rose up his neck and into his cheeks, “I tried to get him out of there but I-” he cut himself off, turning his face away.
“Hey, you did the best you could. We’re all just happy you’re okay as well,” he urged, leaning forward to put a reassuring hand on his knee. Losing Fabian hurt, deeply, but he wouldn’t have been able to handle losing the both of them in a single night.
Peter didn’t say anything, just nodded before leaning back and away.
He finished off the rest of his drink in one go and Peter silently went up to refill his glass as Sirius just grabbed his wand and lit the hearth, watching the fires lick at the grate and smoke dance up the chimney.
“Is Remus still with Marlene checking up on the muggle families?” Peter asked, tone cautious.
He never could shake off Regulus’ words, the way he was apparently so insistent on them not trusting others. With Remus not around…Sirius didn’t like to think about what that might mean but that didn’t mean he hadn’t at all considered the possibility either.
“Yeah, they’ve been gone for a few days now. Dumbledore said he’d tell them about Fabian when they get back, not wanting to disrupt their mission now when they should be getting back soon anyways,” he sighed, drinking, more. He hadn’t even eaten much that day but the drink helped to fill the emptiness inside him.
Peter stayed quiet, his hands shifting in his lap when he sat back down, “What is it?” he pushed upon seeing his sudden discomfort.
“Well, it’s just, I spoke to James and he’s been a bit cagey I dunno. I asked about Remus and Regulus and he got freaked out about both. I mean I wouldn’t say I don’t know why but…” he raised his brows for emphasis.
“What do you mean?” Sirius pushed. The fire in the grate was getting overwhelmingly bright, so much so that he had to squint as though he was staring at some inferno. He could smell the ash and wood burning and started coughing.
“Sirius? Are you okay?” Peter asked, standing up and coming closer.
“No I just- Do you smell that?” he asked, coughing into his elbow and shielding his face from the sudden assault on his senses.
“Let me get you some water, hold on,” he disappeared for a second before he was back with a glass.
He coaxed his mouth open and poured the drink in. It was a bit salty and bitter, grainy like sand, not at all like water, but his symptoms subsided.
“Better?” he asked hopefully.
He remembered responding, saying something, but he couldn’t be sure because his world tilted sideways and his vision went black.
___________
“I’d like to access my vault,” he said blandly to the goblin sitting at the podium above him.
“Of course Mr. Black, if I may see your wand for identification first please,” the goblin smiled crookedly back down at him, spindly hand outstretched.
He handed his wand over and the goblin waved a hand over it and whatever magic connected the two pleased him because he handed it back with a smile. He waved a hand at his side and a goblin appeared, “Right this way Sir,” he bowed his head slightly before proceeding on his way.
Thankfully, Regulus wasn’t stupid so it wasn’t all too hard to wait outside of Gringotts the day prior after all the employees left for the day to simply hit one of them in the back with a quick Imperio to get the information he wanted.
He had stood in the lobby under Disillusionment and waited to see who seemed to be a Curse Inducer. He then saw a man, average height and build, with short auburn hair and stubble across his lower jaw. He watched him walk in at exactly 8 in the morning, well dressed, and speak to a goblin for a rather long amount of time. When he went over and snooped on their conversation, he gathered that he was an Inducer, and in turn, he chose him as his target.
So, at the end of the day, he caught up to him and Imperio’d him without meeting any sort of resistance. He proceeded to order the man into a secluded alley and had asked the simplest and clearest question he could, “Which of the vaults have special wards and or curses built into them?’
He provided a handful of names: The Black, Lestrange, Malfoy, and Potter family vaults all have their own magic imbibed into them. Basically, the most prominent Pure-blood families who had worked with Gringotts since their conception which he probably could have guessed himself.
When asked what exactly the curses were, the man didn’t have an answer which was unfortunate as that was sort of the whole point but it was up to Regulus to simply get into each of them. Well, except the Potter one, that one wasn’t relevant to his current mission.
He sat in the rickety and rusted trolley all the way down to his vault, all the old ones were situated near the bottom- the perks of having old money. The air was cool and musty and he couldn’t wait to get out of the grimy cart that jostled and hit his back with every track it rolled over.
When they finally arrived at the Black family vault, the goblin pulled a keyring from his pocket and began sifting through them till he somehow found the right one- how he could distinguish between them was beyond his knowledge.
He pushed the key in and all the knobs and gears on the door whirred to life before setting in place and the large circular door hissed as it creaked open to grant him entrance.
The vault was semi-organised with multiple piles stock full of gold bars stacked atop each other with exact precision. There were a few hoards of gold trinkets tossed to the side, things that probably held some value when they were originally obtained but were so old and worn down now that they likely served no real use nowadays, financial or otherwise. There was a pile of portraits and other random paintings on the opposite wall and besides that, loads of furniture scattered all about that just served to collect dust, too outdated or fragile to use anymore.
He walked among it but didn’t get any sort of feeling or sensation like he had with the other horcruxes. He wasn’t all that surprised though as he didn’t have high hopes for his own vault anyways, it was incredibly unlikely his father or mother would’ve been involved in something as important as a horcrux.
The only reason he had gotten this idea was because he was thinking back to how Lucius had a horcrux hidden away in his library. It was impossible that Lucius would have been given priority over Bellatrix as she served as Voldemort’s right hand man and closest confidant. She was upset when she first received the news about Lucius, yes, but she hadn’t mentioned it in quite a long time so she had to have been appeased somehow- a horcrux was the likeliest explanation- not that she probably even knew what they were.
He initially thought it was at her house like Lucius’ was but he hadn’t sensed anything when he went to her house under the ruse of getting tea, just like he did for Narcissa. He had walked the perimeter of the house and heard nothing unusual so the Vault was the next and most obvious choice.
He had asked the Curse Inducer about specific charms embedded into the vaults because he wanted to be prepared in case there was something like the potion in the cave with the locket but that was clearly a dead end. He was left to discover the vaults’ secrets on his own.
“Excuse me, can you help me identify what this is?” he called out to the goblin who had been patiently waiting outside and he heard rapid footsteps in his direction.
“Sir?” he looked up at him, glasses low on his long nose.
He cringed as he pulled his wand out and knocked him out cold, letting him fall onto some ancient purple velvet throw that was probably incredibly rare and expensive. He bound him, letting the ropes tie over the blanket so as to not hurt him and just left him there- someone would free him…eventually.
The Lestrange vault wasn’t too far from his own so he was able to walk the length of the rocky and unstable corridor on his own, uninterrupted. He could hear the chains of the guard dragon rattling ominously and he just prayed he stayed out of view of it.
The Lestrange vault looked just like all the others and he sat down on the dirt floor because he had serious work to do now to actually get in.
He grabbed a jagged stone, pointed his wand at it, and muttered an incantation that excited the atoms within it and therefore made it change phases into something between a solid and a liquid. It was more of a malleable ball that rested in his hand and he tested it a bit, watching his thumbs smoothly make equal oval shaped indents on either side.
Grateful, he moulded it and slowly pushed it into the keyhole, making sure to not shove it in too quickly or ruin it. He didn’t have very many chances at this.
Once he was met with resistance on the other side, he grabbed his wand again and cooled it down so that it was back into its’ solid state again. Grabbing the bit he left out, he turned the handle and it gave, the same gears sliding into the open position and granting him entry.
He walked into the Lestrange vault, and while it was a bit smaller than their own, it was full with mounds of…stuff. There was no order to the way everything was just thrown around and none of it even looked all that valuable. There was only a small narrow path that wound around everything that was clear enough to walk through.
He passed by dusted over mirrors and old tables laden with gold candelabras and other decor. Chairs with ripped upholstery and wardrobes that had broken doors that swung open at odd angles marked certain spots and helped him distinguish how far he had gotten and how much he had left to see.
He went on and it was like he had crossed some sort of barrier with his next step because suddenly, he heard it- a maelstrom of hoarse whispers. It was so voracious it felt like it was happening inside his head and he looked ahead at the mountain in front of him.
“Lumos!” he whispered and his wand end lit up. He slowly pointed it at the mountain in front of him and there, the light illuminating his eyeline, he saw a bloody golden cup sitting near the very top of it like a star on a Christmas tree.
He could have cried with relief.
In his haste, he accidentally bumped a bowl that had been lying upside down by the path. He barely gave it a glance but then he heard the clatter get louder. When he looked back, the bowl had multiplied, and in that case, the bowl hit a lamp that was lying broken, and that had in turn multiplied.
He cursed, looking up at the tower.
“Accio horcrux!” he commanded but it didn’t work.
He doubted any sort of magic would work on it here.
Fuck, he muttered, and he could hear all sorts of objects begin clattering behind him, hitting eachother and causing a chain reaction of all the junk in here multiplying. He quickly learned that the curse in this vault was the Gemino curse.
He had only a second to steel himself. He shut his eyes, breathed, then, like a fucking animal, began scrambling up the mountain of things.
His feet slipped every other step and his hands tried and failed to grasp onto slipping objects so as to not fall. It was a give and take because while he was flailing around, making everything around him multiply, as everything moved, the objects under his feet swelled, carrying him closer to the top like riding on top of an ocean wave.
The cup wasn’t even all that big up close and yet it held so much significance.
Finally, when it was close enough, he lunged towards it and he almost missed it but gratefully, his middle finger managed to hook around one of the handles on the side and he pulled it in close while everything around him descended into complete and utter chaos.
He was grateful he had left the door to the vault open because had it been closed, there would’ve been no way out.
However, it might as well have been that way because he started falling through the gaps in supplies, drowning under the weight of everything. The clatter of metal on metal was so loud his ears were practically on fire and he was getting overstimulated from the cacophony of it all.
He tried to move his feet and it was there that he made the wrong choice because suddenly gravity seized him and instead of riding on top of the wave, he was being dragged under.
He tried to fight but the more he touched, the more problems he caused, and his mind was fuming until a memory seized him, slowing his movements.
It was James, as it always was, telling him to stop freaking out. James had said some variation of this before when it came to swimming but he was sure his subconscious was tweaking the memory a bit. This was a bit like swimming in the sense that he was sure he was about to die so he stopped moving and everything continued to rustle until it finally, mercifully, came to a stop.
He was suspended under a pile of junk and he was able to kind of assess what was going on. James had told him that it could get disorienting trying to figure out which was up, especially if you were flailing, so while he was frozen in space, he was able to make out that his legs weren’t directly under him but rather tilted a little ways back. His arms were outstretched on both sides and the edges of various things dug painfully into his sides but he could see that up was going to have to be at a bit of a diagonal angle rather than just “up.”
Then he remembered James telling him that the most important part of getting out was “Kicking, thrashing, just moving” so, doing as instructed, he began fighting, resuming the chaos all over again.
__________
Perhaps the swimming lessons did actually come in handy was all he could think as he ran out of the vault.
He jumped back into the cart to get up to the top of the bank, disembarked, disillusioned himself, and managed to run away right as the alarms in Gringotts started going off.
Once outside, he apparated away with a reverberating crack.
Only when he landed back at Grimmauld could he take a single heaving breath. He hadn’t planned on coming back here but it was the quickest escape he could make while getting a chance to refill on supplies. His mother wasn’t home either, away somewhere with Druella, so it wasn’t all that problematic.
Kreacher greeted him and he immediately asked him for some water and he produced a glass and a jug of water, filling and refilling it when necessary. He then extracted the horcrux from his pocket before handing the elf his cloak to put away and without another word, went back upstairs.
Because, like he did after all important missions, he needed a bloody nap.
__________
He woke up to his arm burning, a familiar fire engulfing it.
He debated on whether or not he should answer it but the longer he waited, the more debilitating it got so it felt like the choice was being made for him. He sat up when Kreacher suddenly popped into his room.
“Master Regulus is needing to get up-.”
“I know Kreacher, wait how do you know-.”
He was pulling at his ears, “Master Regulus is not knowing that-.”
“Nevermind that,” he scrubbed at his face, forcing himself to wake up, “Can you get me-.”
“Master Regulus!” Kreacher shouted, instantly shutting him up, “The dark Lord is being in the study to see Master Regulus. He is not seeing Kreacher but the Mistress told Kreacher to get Master Regulus. He is needing to get ready now,” he stressed, snapping his fingers so his clothes materialised in his outstretched and trembling hands.
He didn’t even have time to think, instantly stripping out of his pyjamas and pulling on his formal black robes, confused and a bit scared of what was going on.
He didn’t normally make house visits and to his knowledge, Regulus was supposed to be at school right now. He didn’t even know how he had managed to get his mother back either but he supposed maybe Bellatrix had given her an advanced warning, that is, if she knew about this little house visit.
He changed, ordered Kreacher to stay in his room no matter what so that Voldemort wouldn’t see him and knew he had survived the cave, and left his room.
He kept his steps even and gait straight as he walked towards the Study, his mind whirling with what was going on. Voldemort was upset when he found out he had taken time off of school to go to the funerals and had ordered him to stop. He didn’t want to know what the implications of dropping out of school without his knowledge might be.
The fact that he was harbouring four horcruxes in the floor right above him did not go unremembered either.
His mother was standing in the middle of the corridor opposite the study and she looked grave, her normally stern face a bit softer, a bit…scared. He hadn’t seen her really since he blew up at her about his father but he would’ve much preferred to see her normal piercing glare at him rather than this uncharacteristic look of fear.
He knocked on the wooden door once before pushing it open and entering.
The dark Lord was stood on the opposite wall with the windows behind him silhouetting his figure. Normally, he was staring out the windows but today, he was standing facing the door, just waiting for his arrival.
The minute their eyes locked, he tsked, “Regulus, you have disappointed me so.”
“My Lord?” he asked shakily, his palms sweating and spine trembling. The door behind him slammed shut but Voldemort hadn’t even moved, a casual display of power. A chair opposite the desk jerked and with a slide of his red eyes, he was ordered to sit.
“Why are you here right now?” he asked with narrowed eyes, baiting him to see how he would reply.
“My mother-,”
“Try again,” was all he said, his voice suddenly turning deep and cutting.
He scrambled for an answer, wishing he had just drowned in Bellatrix’s vault. He didn’t even get a chance to reply because the dark Lord across from him spoke first,
“Do you recall what I did to Burke?” he inquired slowly, the words coated with venom.
He nodded, remembering how he was suspended over the table, how he choked on the poisoned wine- how he clutched at his own neck till he ran out of air and died, terrified and alone, surrounded by masked monsters.
“Yes my Lord,” he whispered and it was the only sign of fear he would allow himself to show.
“Good, because now you know what will be coming for you,” he said blankly, not even a threat but a promise.
Then, quick as an asp, Voldemort grabbed both his shoulders and hissed Legilimens! He floundered and then a voice echoed in his mind as if on a loudspeaker, he wished he could cover his ears but it wouldn’t matter, “I’ve seen what you’ve done Regulus.”
In a terribly impressive feat, he projected an image into his mind and it was him, at the funeral, standing next to James. They were situated in a secluded corner, out of sight, as a tear slipped from James’ eye and Regulus had reached up to swipe it away, his hand resting on his cheek for a moment too long before they leaned in and kissed each other. It was barely more than a peck but it was closer than they ever should have been in public.
He watched the memory get ripped away as another replaced it- this time it was him and Sirius, walking side by side in Hogsmeade. They were both still wearing their school uniforms and Regulus remembered it as the day he and Sirius skipped classes to talk. At the moment of the scene in front of him, they were talking to the old woman who had served him hot chocolate. He remembered how she had given him his drink for free while charging Sirius because she didn’t quite seem to like him.
Watching himself in his own mind was disorienting and he felt a sharp pain hit his knees but he couldn’t bring himself out of his own mind- he felt trapped. A burning sensation snapped at his shoulders and he knew it was Voldemort’s grip on him getting increasingly tighter.
He had been found out as a traitor, he’d somehow been caught on all of his lies, and he didn’t know if there was even a chance he’d be able to get out of this.
Voldemort withdrew and he saw what the source of his pain was- he’d collapsed from his chair, falling forward to kneel right in front of his feet.
“And I come to find out you've withdrawn from Hogwarts? What is it you’re doing with all this time Regulus?” he tutted, using his wand to tilt up his chin and dig into his neck painfully.
“It would seem you’re a worthless blood traitor like your brother,” he spat. “I had my reservations about you Regulus, and as usual, I was right to not trust you. I allowed you into my inner-circle, I bestowed upon you the honour of being the youngest death eater ever tattooed and yet, you betrayed me,” he said. His voice was low but he could have been shouting for the fury that was laced in his tone.
He remained deathly quiet, his mind somehow going blank because while he was normally good at spinning lies, he was so caught off guard that he simply had nothing to offer. He had nothing that could explain everything away thoroughly and saying some half-arsed lie would only make him more upset.
“Do you not even have the sense to speak!” he shouted now then, “Crucio!”
The curse racked his bones, pulling and shredding at his tendons, the pain echoing through every bone in his body as he writhed against the floor. He grit his teeth so hard he was sure they would shatter but he couldn’t think against the overwhelming agony in his body. His vision blurred but he could see Voldemort’s eyes with glaring clarity, staring down upon him with pent-up anger and disappointment.
When the spell finally, mercifully, released, he slowly clambered to his knees, “My Lord, I’m sorry, I- I made a mistake I-,” he tried to backtrack if just to get out of this situation. He would go back to the house in France- he would go anywhere but here, and stay far away, for the rest of time, if he could just escape now.
He grabbed his chin sharply, jerking it towards him, “I’ve been told your traitorous streak goes back years. I’ve seen you having relations with blood traitors and mudbloods alike. I’ve seen the disgusting perverted ways you have degraded yourself and your family name. You will be so thoroughly scrubbed from the Black line it will be as if you’ve never existed,” he spat. “Atleast your brother had grit, he would have made a fine death eater, I accepted you as a replacement but it would seem you have failed in that as well.”
Each of his words felt like a curse, piercing at his soul, and he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and run away, but he wouldn’t make it through any of those ways.
“I should have taken you instead of your filthy elf,” he said finally before reaiming his wand.
Regulus, using the momentum from his crouch, lunged up and away. He ran for the door, throwing it open and bursting through it. He heard it shatter to pieces behind him as Voldemort bellowed in anger but it didn’t matter.
He ran up the stairs and to his room faster than he had ever moved in his life. Regulus was pretty out of shape if he was honest with himself, but it was as though he was flying on a broom with how quick he was.
Kreacher looked up at him in alarm, “Ward the door!” he shouted at Kreacher who began waving his hands erratically in that direction, his small frame shaking with unease.
He heard the dark Lord on the stairs and in seconds, he was on the second floor, breaking his door down. He knew he wasn’t going to kill him, not now at least- he was going to make his death a spectacle just as he did with everyone else.
The box he was aiming for was stored under his bed so he dove to the ground and slid forward, grabbing it with both hands. He got up, held Kreacher's hand, and apparated them both away, breaking past the thin wards around the house and escaping without a trace.
The last thing he saw was the door being thrown open and the face of the darkest wizard alive, staring right back at him with murder in his eyes.
__________
“Master Regulus is needing-,” Kreacher fretted, his small hands running over his arms.
“Nothing please,” he whispered, his head in his hands. “Just, go to the elves already here, I need some quiet okay?”
Kreacher, ever worried for him, relented, walking instead of apparating outside of his room, softly closing the door behind him as he went.
He hated that the first and only thing he could do in that moment was cry. He had so much to do and yet, he was paralyzed with dread and anticipation and the phantom pain that lingered from the Cruciatus seizing his every muscle.
Memories that no one else was supposed to see, had been seen and shown to Voldemort, and the sheer violation of it was infuriating. His hands curled into fists and he only released them when he felt blood dripping from the little crescent moon wounds he had made in his own palms.
When he looked back at his own memories, he knew there was something wrong- something had happened that night at Bellatrix’s dinner but he didn’t know what and maybe if he searched into it, dug deep into his occlumency, he would find something. but did it even matter? He’d already been handed a death sentence.
Voldemort was to be his executioner and he refused to go out that way.
If he was going to die, which he certainly was to, he was at least going to do it on his own terms.
He went to the bathroom, stripped out of his clothes, and stared into the mirror.
His black hair and silver eyes, so like his mother’s, his jaw and nose his father’s, the way his face was set and the cadence with which he spoke was so like Sirius’ who had basically moulded him growing up. It felt like the man in the mirror was someone else he could detach himself from, just a mashup of others’ around him, but when he raised his right arm, so did his, and he was reminded of his physicality in this realm.
He looked at his right wrist, the thin silvery streaks there from his dark years after Sirius had initially left though sometimes before that too if he was honest. He looked at his thin arms and torso and remembered how he had hated himself so deeply growing up, always so incredibly insecure because of comments his mother made. She would so often boast about their surname and pedigree while simultaneously making him feel like the most worthless being alive.
He stared at the scar across his midsection and remembered how James had treated him and when he looked back at himself wholly again, he just saw the paths James had kissed along his body, the way his hands touched and grabbed at his skin over and over again and drove him mad.
When he smiled, he saw James, in the way he breathed and blinked and loved, it was all James who had made him into the man he was today. It didn’t matter what genetics played into how he looked because it was James who had turned his horrible black insides into something worth loving.
He turned away and stepped into the burning hot shower and scrubbed until he was sure he had rid himself of at least two layers of skin. Lathering soap onto a cloth over and over again and scrubbing until his pale skin had turned a bright pink.
When he stepped out, he healed his cracked fingers and punctured shoulders. He drank the potions he requested from Kreacher to treat his head ache and body pains, and went back to his bed.
He then ate a small meal of soup and bread as the sun set in the fields around his home.
Then, sitting at a small desk, he began writing letters- first to Evan Rosier, second to Barty Crouch Jr., then Pandora Lestrange, Dorcas Meadowes, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.
He wrote until the moon had come up and crawled into the middle of the sky. His candles had burnt all the way down to their base and were ready to give up, only holding on out of sheer will and his vision was starting to blur.
Once finished, he grabbed the box he had taken from home and cracked it open, staring at all of the horcruxes inside, glad he had stored them all together.
Making up his mind, he grabbed the locket and decided to pen one final letter on a small square of parchment.
___________
The following day, he had dressed simply- black trousers and a black shirt and when he went downstairs for breakfast, he was greeted with Kreacher looking worriedly up at him.
“You really need to calm down,” he said flippantly as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
The elf was hot on his trail, “It is only that yesterday, Master Regulus was so worried- he is getting into a fight with the dark Lord and he took Kreacher and left. Then Master Regulus is not sleeping, he is awake all night writing letters, and Kreacher was being waiting for Master Regulus to say something to him but he did not. Now he is waking up happy but is not understanding that he is being in trouble!”
Once he was finished with his tirade, he just said, “Don’t worry Kreacher, I’ve got it figured out. I’ll be going out today so you stay here, I don’t think mother will call on you but if she does, ignore it. I am ordering you to stay in this house no matter what and nothing can override that as I’ve given you this order first, yes?”
He begrudgingly bowed, clearly not satisfied with his answer, “Yes Kreacher is being understanding.”
“Good,” he said, setting the half empty mug down and walking out the front door.
He could never tell if he was scared of death or not. His fear tended to rise and fall with his emotions- sometimes he was willing to go like he had while drowning underwater while other times he wanted to run far away from it like when he was in James’ embrace. Though now…well he had reached a middle ground and the settling of it, finally finding his place, allowed him to sink into a place of calm that allowed him to proceed with the plan he had laid for himself.
He pulled out his wand and apparated away.
__________
James woke up that morning, not to the sun shining or the birds chirping, but tp Sirius shouting so loud that the walls were practically shaking.
He scrambled out of bed, grabbing a robe on the way out of his room, “Pads, what are you shouting about so early in the morning!”
“Your dumbass boyfriend and my idiot brother!” he shouted back.
He almost tripped down the stairs hearing that, recovering quickly and bolting down the rest of the way.
He turned left and there, standing in the entryway was a bored looking Regulus and a fuming Sirius. His eyes were still on Sirius and when Sirius turned away, he rolled his eyes at his back.
He couldn’t even contain himself at how he felt seeing Regulus there, whole and healthy, and he ran at him, bypassing Sirius and coming at him with his arms spread wide.
He engulfed Regulus, picking him up off the floor and the sound of his surprised laughter in his ear was like music- he wished he could listen to it for the rest of his life. His hands naturally slid over the curves on his back, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. Regulus’ head fell into the crook of his neck and James couldn’t help breathing him in, his heart finally matching in rhythm to his after being out of sorts for weeks.
“I missed you too,” he laughed but when he put him down, he repeated it again, this time quieter and more genuine. His eyes had gone soft and open, his lips uncreased, and James wanted to thank the gods for delivering him back in this way. In his worst nightmares, he pictured Regulus coming back injured or broken, sometimes not even coming back at all.
He kissed him deeply, relishing in the sameness of it, grateful that nothing had changed or happened in the last couple of weeks he was gone. He was so relieved to see him he could cry.
“What are you doing here?” he rushed out eagerly.
“I just wanted to see my boyfriend, is that so wrong?” he smiled back at him, silver eyes shining coyly.
“What the fuck am I then?” Sirius groaned and they both just laughed in each other's arms and James wasn’t sure he’d ever let him go again. Still, when James looked at Sirius, he could see the relieved set of his shoulders as the tension he had been carrying finally slid off his shoulders.
“Come, come,” he grinned, pulling Regulus inside.
He couldn’t even be mad at him enough to care that he had disappeared like Sirius was because he was just so godsdamned happy to see him again- nothing would ever change that.
__________
As James pulled him into the house, Regulus’ only thought was- Oh how I’m going to miss that beautiful smile of his.