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
no subject
He breathes and it's trembling. He doesn't cry. He doesn't have anything left in him to do it.
"I don't know why you'd want to be around me. I don't know why you'd think you were wrong about not trusting me. Most of the horrible things you said were right. I was supposed to die and that was selfish. I don't--" This time he chokes on a bitter laugh. "I don't want to live with everything I've done, Remus. I deserve to die because of all of it. But I'm too scared to even do that."
Finally, finally he lets out a low sob. Looks like he'd been wrong about not being able to cry after all. "I never wanted to hurt anyone, I never--I wanted out as soon as I knew, but there's no out. I was too scared to die then too. I should have. Now all I've got is blood on my hands and you not understanding why you'd be right to hate me."
no subject
And it's hard. Harder than perhaps any other part of this war so far, to listen to and internalize the knowledge that these horrible acts were done by the man in his arms. Remus had never been unaware of what it it meant to be a Death Eater, but he can't deny that he's been nothing short of blind when it comes to Regulus. It's not that he didn't know, but he simply never could bring himself to acknowledge that the Death Eater and the boy he'd grown to love were and always have been one and the same, by choice or otherwise.
Somewhere along the line, his thumb had begun to stroke Regulus' shoulder, mimicking the small circles of his hand before, unconsciously. After Regulus is finished speaking, Remus is quiet for a long time, ruminating on all he's heard. He wants to take the easy way out. Wants to tell Regulus over and over that it's all right, it wasn't really his fault, as he always has. But this time, he bites his lip, and refuses to allow the comforting words to escape.
Finally, he lets out a soft sigh, because what is there to say, really?
"I love you," he whispers, nosing against Regulus' hair where his cheek still rests. "Those horrible things that you've done... they'll never go away. I've no doubt you'll feel them forever." He sounds distant, as though he were speaking to himself, thoughts far away from the little room they sit in. "Perhaps there is no forgiveness for the evil we've done in our lives, and living with the blood on our hands is the only penance we can ever hope to pay."
He takes another, shakier breath then, letting it out unsteadily and tightening his grip on Regulus before he continues. "But you made a choice, in the end. To be different. You made a sacrifice, and you walked willingly to your death for the sake of the greater good. You say you were scared as though you ought to be condemned for it, but we're all scared, Reg. And you went anyway." He blinks, staring at the blank off-white of the wall without seeing it, wondering idly if he ought to have some point that he's trying to get to. For now, he's just speaking the words as they come.
"And... you were supposed to die. Maybe you did deserved to - that's not for me to say. But you didn't die. You sacrificed yourself, and you were given a second chance." He pauses again, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face into Regulus' hair once more, needing the comfort but never quite finding enough somehow. "I think you should use it."
no subject
He does neither of these things and Regulus sits, eyes closed, feeling Remus' thumb on his shoulder as his own hands clutch at Remus' shirt. Small desperate affections because he's afraid to try for more. The things Remus is saying are... The don't feel like absolution but Regulus never wanted that anyway. They feel like something that allows him to breathe, to feel like a flawed human and not an irreparable devil.
He's still tired. He still feels like he should have died - still wants to die - but rather than running away (or running headlong into danger) he stays where he is, leaning into him like he can't get enough. He can't. He breathes erratically but manages to keep it down, a soft and wounded noise leaving him as he shifted, burrowing into Remus' neck, nosing into the crook of it with a soft sob.
"I love you too," he whispers, "I don't know why you love me but I love you too. I just... I don't know what to do now. I never planned anything past the cave I was in because I wasn't ever supposed to leave it. I don't... Know how to use a second chance." He takes a shaking breath, kissing his neck, beneath his ear, his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, his lips - shifting the angle of his head to accommodate all of these - before whispering a hair's breadth from his mouth. "Stay with me," barely audible, "help me figure out what to do from here."