regulus arcturus black. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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marauderstower2016-11-04 11:19 am
rab) wrote in marauderstower2016-11-04 11:19 am
Entry tags:
you know how we said that au was a one-off? anyway: that horrible au.
Regulus stops by Grimmauld place before he goes. He has things he needs to do. He picks up the locket he needs and checks it for the note and it feels like closure. He smiles at his parents and tells them goodbye and it feels freeing. He tells some of the elves goodbye and it feels like his insides are going to rot away. Kreacher comes with him and it feels like a betrayal. The trip to the outside of the cave is longer than expected. Using a boat feels absurd but he knows it's necessary and sits, quiet, as he magics it forward. It's not difficult. He's brooding, thinking about his brother. About Remus. As they reach the mouth of the cave he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to be resolute.
Kreacher shows him where the door is and stands behind Regulus, though he's ready to obey if he's ordered. Regulus pulls the sharp knife from under his cloak—one of Bellatrix's, fittingly—and slices the width of his own palm open like flaying. It doesn't matter how deep it is, all he needs is time to finish his job. Kreacher protests the action quietly but Regulus places his hand on the door and drags it down, shuddering slightly as the rough stone digs into the stinging wound. A sharp corner catches, pulls the wound wider. He takes a ragged breath and pulls his hand back but the offering is enough; the door opens and they can step through. He wipes the blood on his cloak and stashes it away.
The lake within is large and intimidating and there's no visible way across. Kreacher takes his good hand and leads him to where the boat is, invisible to the naked eye. As he picks apart the spells Kreacher is nervous, moving from foot to foot. He trusts his master's judgement, but he would rather be the one doing these things so Regulus doesn't have to suffer them. Finally, it's ready to take them across. Only one fully-grown Wizard allowed, but Voldemort's never taken anyone else's powers into account so Kreacher is allowed with him and once they're on the boat all that's left to do is wait. Regulus stares down into the water blankly; he knows what's coming.
As they stand on the edge of the tiny island in the middle of the lake, Regulus breathes. He breathes like it's his last because it is. He expects to die, knows he deserves it. That's all right. He smiles to Kreacher as he hands him the locket, instructs him to switch them, to take the Horcrux to Dumbledore, to leave him there to die after helping him finish the potion. Kreacher is crying.
So is Regulus.
At first he can drink it himself. Goblet after goblet of sickening green liquid slides down his throat and as it does, he feels like he's immolating from the inside out. He clutches at the edge of the basin, blood dripping down the side of it. Once he retches, vomits off to the side because the pain is so unbearable, burning inside and stabbing through him, but the basin refills slowly with exactly as much potion as he'd expelled. It's the first time he's breathed out a whimper. He continues to drink, and then the visions start. He's still clutching at the basin so hard that his knuckles are white and as soon as the images start to float through his brain he clamps down like a steel trap, the perfect legilimens—
—it helps but it isn't enough. An innocent woman he'd killed flashing behind his eyes. Sirius laying on the floor broken and sobbing. Remus' face full of hatred and disgust and the vicious spit of words in his face. Being a child, watching his brother get hurt and not being able to help him. Getting hurt himself and Sirius trying to bring the attention to himself. He sinks to the ground and Kreacher has to help him finish off the potion. Has to lie to him and tell him it's water to get him to finish drinking. He's so thirsty, so full of self-loathing, so full of pain and fear and he's going to die here, he's going to die alone because he told Kreacher to leave and his brain short-circuits—
the thoughts fall away and leave nothing but blank-faced torturous pain in their wake and he wants to die
The potion is done. Kreacher replaces the locket but hesitates, watching Regulus for something, anything. Perhaps hoping that Regulus will change his mind. Instead Regulus only crawls toward the water, the dangerous water, and Kreacher is trembling and Regulus has reached the edge and goes to take a drink and just like that hands are pulling at him, dragging him further forward, dragging him under, slick white wet skin and bone. Just before he slips under he gasps out Kreacher and it sounds so terrified that it's enough. It's an order. The elf surges forward.
he's sinking and
the water is
filling him and
there is terror
but also peace
he is drowning
he is dying
this is retribution
this is absolution
hands clutching him
he is clean.
But then there are different hands grasping his wrists and a surge of magic not his own forcing the other hands to let go and it's just him, just him and Kreacher and he's being dragged out of the water and he had no idea Kreacher was that strong and he's sobbing in terror and relief, the placid acceptance when he was underwater leaving him in one fell swoop. He coughs up lungfuls of water, choking and hacking but they can't wait, the Inferi are crawling up after them—
—there's a desperate crack of Disapparition that shouldn't work but does, because Elf magic is different from Wizard magic and plays by different rules. It's the same way they end up on the floor of Dumbledore's office and Regulus is on his hands and knees on the stone floor, gasping and choking and bleeding but not sobbing. He doesn't have the tears in him any more. He can't even open his eyes to see where they are because he has them clenched shut so tightly, so protectively.
He's shaking.
He's alive.
WARNINGS: drowning, descriptions of wounds etc etc
Kreacher shows him where the door is and stands behind Regulus, though he's ready to obey if he's ordered. Regulus pulls the sharp knife from under his cloak—one of Bellatrix's, fittingly—and slices the width of his own palm open like flaying. It doesn't matter how deep it is, all he needs is time to finish his job. Kreacher protests the action quietly but Regulus places his hand on the door and drags it down, shuddering slightly as the rough stone digs into the stinging wound. A sharp corner catches, pulls the wound wider. He takes a ragged breath and pulls his hand back but the offering is enough; the door opens and they can step through. He wipes the blood on his cloak and stashes it away.
The lake within is large and intimidating and there's no visible way across. Kreacher takes his good hand and leads him to where the boat is, invisible to the naked eye. As he picks apart the spells Kreacher is nervous, moving from foot to foot. He trusts his master's judgement, but he would rather be the one doing these things so Regulus doesn't have to suffer them. Finally, it's ready to take them across. Only one fully-grown Wizard allowed, but Voldemort's never taken anyone else's powers into account so Kreacher is allowed with him and once they're on the boat all that's left to do is wait. Regulus stares down into the water blankly; he knows what's coming.
As they stand on the edge of the tiny island in the middle of the lake, Regulus breathes. He breathes like it's his last because it is. He expects to die, knows he deserves it. That's all right. He smiles to Kreacher as he hands him the locket, instructs him to switch them, to take the Horcrux to Dumbledore, to leave him there to die after helping him finish the potion. Kreacher is crying.
So is Regulus.
At first he can drink it himself. Goblet after goblet of sickening green liquid slides down his throat and as it does, he feels like he's immolating from the inside out. He clutches at the edge of the basin, blood dripping down the side of it. Once he retches, vomits off to the side because the pain is so unbearable, burning inside and stabbing through him, but the basin refills slowly with exactly as much potion as he'd expelled. It's the first time he's breathed out a whimper. He continues to drink, and then the visions start. He's still clutching at the basin so hard that his knuckles are white and as soon as the images start to float through his brain he clamps down like a steel trap, the perfect legilimens—
—it helps but it isn't enough. An innocent woman he'd killed flashing behind his eyes. Sirius laying on the floor broken and sobbing. Remus' face full of hatred and disgust and the vicious spit of words in his face. Being a child, watching his brother get hurt and not being able to help him. Getting hurt himself and Sirius trying to bring the attention to himself. He sinks to the ground and Kreacher has to help him finish off the potion. Has to lie to him and tell him it's water to get him to finish drinking. He's so thirsty, so full of self-loathing, so full of pain and fear and he's going to die here, he's going to die alone because he told Kreacher to leave and his brain short-circuits—
the thoughts fall away and leave nothing but blank-faced torturous pain in their wake and he wants to die
The potion is done. Kreacher replaces the locket but hesitates, watching Regulus for something, anything. Perhaps hoping that Regulus will change his mind. Instead Regulus only crawls toward the water, the dangerous water, and Kreacher is trembling and Regulus has reached the edge and goes to take a drink and just like that hands are pulling at him, dragging him further forward, dragging him under, slick white wet skin and bone. Just before he slips under he gasps out Kreacher and it sounds so terrified that it's enough. It's an order. The elf surges forward.
he's sinking and
the water is
filling him and
there is terror
but also peace
he is drowning
he is dying
this is retribution
this is absolution
hands clutching him
he is clean.
But then there are different hands grasping his wrists and a surge of magic not his own forcing the other hands to let go and it's just him, just him and Kreacher and he's being dragged out of the water and he had no idea Kreacher was that strong and he's sobbing in terror and relief, the placid acceptance when he was underwater leaving him in one fell swoop. He coughs up lungfuls of water, choking and hacking but they can't wait, the Inferi are crawling up after them—
—there's a desperate crack of Disapparition that shouldn't work but does, because Elf magic is different from Wizard magic and plays by different rules. It's the same way they end up on the floor of Dumbledore's office and Regulus is on his hands and knees on the stone floor, gasping and choking and bleeding but not sobbing. He doesn't have the tears in him any more. He can't even open his eyes to see where they are because he has them clenched shut so tightly, so protectively.
He's shaking.
He's alive.
WARNINGS: drowning, descriptions of wounds etc etc