Chapter Text
Regulus swallowed hard, grimacing as the cold acidic liquid slipped down his throat.
His heart was beating so fast he wondered if it would give out before the potion even took effect.
He half prayed it would, because heart failure sounded more peaceful then whatever torture the potion would no doubt put a person through before death.
He mentally cursed himself for thinking he deserved a painless death, though his insides still quaked with fearful apprehension when he thought about the alternative.
Then he cursed himself again for his cowardice.
“Master Regulus should not be drinking the poison, no - Kreacher should be taking it in place of kind master Regulus.
Kreacher must protect master-“
“Kreacher.”
Regulus flinched at the unexpected sharpness of his tone, intentionally gentling it before he continued.
“This is not your fault, old friend.
You have your job to do and I have mine.
It’s alright.”
He raised the cup to his lips and took another long draught.
It slid down his throat like shards of glass, left him reeling and raw.
His head began to pound quite unpleasantly.
It would’ve been unpleasant, that is, if not for the relief flooding through Regulus as he realized the potion was taking effect.
“Sweet master Regulus is not listening to Kreacher. Noble master is putting himself in danger for Kreacher’s sake but Kreacher will protect him. Kreacher would never let harm come to his good master.”
Regulus choked down another cupful of the horrid stuff.
Focused resolutely on the elf’s anguished muttering.
“Kreacher must be saving his kind master.”
The words sent a thrill of fear through Regulus.
He imagined waking up in the morning in his own bed, Kreacher hovering anxiously.
Just like he had after the last two failed attempts.
His stomach curled in shame.
“Kreacher, once I retrieve the locket you are to take it right home and get to work destroying it.
No matter what, you must leave at once.
You must leave me here.”
Regulus hated ordering the old elf around but he had no choice.
This was his moment- his opportunity to go out on his own terms, doing something right for once.
He forced another swallow down his throat.
“Kreacher will of course be doing what master Regulus commands.”
Regulus tried not to notice the quaver of tears in Kreacher’s voice.
The world was tilting drunkenly, everything blurring in and out of his vision.
Flashes of memory, both good and bad, were flitting through his mind at a rather alarming rate.
He swallowed again.
Kreacher was still muttering and crying but Regulus knew only that he must finish this potion.
He scooped another cupful.
His throat was dry, agonizingly so.
He swallowed, tried to imagine it was water.
Not yet another drink of the poison that was killing him.
The sheer range of emotion in the memories was staggering.
Walburga’s icy look as she walked in on a post-cruciartus healing session.
Kreacher’s worried eyes the first time Regulus tried to overdose.
The way Sirius’ laugh had echoed in that cold house. Regulus’ own pathetic fear as Orion taught him dark curses.
The weight on his chest whenever Siri and their parents fought.
The fiery agony that had rushed through his entire body when he received the mark.
The utter betrayal when he realized he’d been well and truly replaced in Sirius’ affections by James bloody Potter.
That strange warmth in his chest when Bella had been unable to crucio him, even in training. Kreacher’s gentle touch, as though Regulus were still a small child who might break if he weren’t handled delicately.
“Master Regulus is being sure he will not come home with Kreacher?”
The choked words broke through whatever haze had fallen over Regulus’ mind and he blinked hard. Realized he held the empty cup in one hand and a dully shining locket in the other.
He’d done it, then.
“Sweet master is being very ill and Kreacher is begging to look after him.”
Regulus thought over the sentence, examined it from every angle in the attempt to make sense of it.
He was vaguely sure that he’d lost his mind.
His body was trembling violently, worse even then the aftermath of Walburga’s cruciartus training, and he was certain his throat was on fire.
Water- Siri always said water was the best starting point in a situation like this.
Unless you had alcohol.
Regulus didn’t recall seeing any alcohol in this cave while if his memory hadn’t completely forsaken him, there was a large pool of water surrounding him.
He pushed himself to his feet with significant difficulty.
“Kreacher is begging, master Regulus.”
This time it was impossible to ignore the tears in Kreacher’s voice.
He didn’t deserve Kreacher- his most faithful friend, the only one who cared anymore.
Though it hurt like hell, Regulus forced his occulumency walls up.
Bella had taught him occulumency (and, less successfully, its counterpart legilimens) from his ninth birthday.
By the time he was twelve she declared him a prodigy and he’d rarely been without the walls past his fourteenth year.
His head was splitting with the effort now- most likely the potion was supposed to prevent anyone using occulumency to minimize the pain.
But Regulus’ skills had been praised by the Dark lord himself.
This potion was no match for him.
He staggered a little, regained his balance.
Even his skills couldn’t slow the poison’s effects.
“Good master is being extremely ill.
Kreacher can be taking him home now?”
“I’m sorry, Kreacher.”
The little elf choked on a sob- something Regulus had only heard three times in his life.
Each time it had been because of him.
The knowledge that Kreacher had been his best friend and Regulus had repayed him by hurting him more deeply then anyone else was a harsh blow.
“Young master should not be apologizing, no, Kreacher is failing him.”
Another sob.
Regulus took a deep breath, reenforced his mental walls and allowed himself this one proper goodbye. He dropped rather gracelessly to his knees. “Kreacher, look at me.”
As their eyes met, every word of Regulus’ carefully prepared speech flew from his mind.
Because he’d thought through every scenario he could picture, imagined a hundred different ways this might play out- but Kreacher’s weathered face lined with tears as he pled to be allowed to help was not something he’d planned for.
Regulus’ vision blurred again, but this time it was tears.
His body felt seconds from giving up- he had to hurry.
Kreacher had to be gone before he succumbed to the poison.
He refused to put his friend through something like that.
Kreacher’s small frame shook and Regulus remembered the elf had been through the same agony he was experiencing less than two hours ago.
“I order you to take the locket and return to Grimmauld place.
You are not to attempt destroying it until you’ve rested and regained all your strength.”
He pressed the locket into Kreacher’s small hand.
“Master Regulus, Kreacher is begging.
Kreacher can be bringing his sweet master home and-“
“No.
I’m not going back, Kreacher.
I’m too tired.
I order you to leave me here.”
Kreacher’s wail of despair caught Regulus off guard. It was so agonized and raw, so unlike the gently annoyed air that always surrounded the little elf.
“Kreacher has failed his noble master.
Kreacher deserves clothing!”
Another fat tear rolled down his cheek.
Regulus felt his heart snap in two.
Without thinking he reached out and wiped the liquid from Kreacher’s face.
“This is not your fault,” he breathed.
There was so much he wanted to say- so much he should tell Kreacher.
That even if it hadn’t ended like this, Regulus was never going to live much longer.
Not without Sirius.
Walburga would put too much force behind her cruciartus or the Dark lord would realize that his youngest death eater had never actually killed anyone or- worst of all- Sirius or one of his friends would kill a death eater in battle.
Wouldn’t realize who it was until it was too late.
If they’d even care.
Somehow, Regulus didn’t think he was meant to have an ordinary life- to grow up and have a family of his own.
He’d always been too different - too sensitive and frail, too afraid of the future.
Too broken.
The memory somehow forced its way through his mental walls- Evan’s lips on his, the way his heart had pounded because kissing his best friend had tasted (like firewhiskey and cigarettes and spearmint) and felt perfect.
Evidence of how far beyond repair he was.
Regulus shook himself, the shame of that moment coloring his cheeks.
The poison was working quickly, there was no time for all of that.
“It’s not your fault, Kreacher.”
He repeated firmly.
“This is my choice and I need you to understand that, alright?”
Before the old elf could protest Regulus had pulled him in for a hug.
It wasn’t the first time by far, but Kreacher always insisted it wasn’t proper for young master to soil himself touching lowly Kreacher and because Regulus loved him and hated to upset him it had been several years.
Kreacher’s bony arms were around him, holding on fiercely.
Like he could protect Regulus through sheer force of will.
Regulus smiled sadly, returned the embrace just as desperately.
Pain had begun shooting through his head again and he knew he had seconds before the walls crashed down.
With one final squeeze Regulus drew back.
“Thank you,” he said fervently.
For everything, he added mentally.
For caring when no one else does- when I don’t deserve it.
Prayed that Kreacher could hear everything he didn’t say, how much he meant it.
“Now go.”
With a sob and a sharp crack Kreacher disapperated.
Regulus was alone.
The occulumency walls were gone and everything was fire and ice and pain, molten agony flowing through his veins and filling his lungs.
Regulus was dying, and now that it was too late he realized he was afraid.
“Siri!”
He screamed, because shouldn’t his brother be here? He always was, when Regulus needed him.
Seemed to sense it whenever he was in trouble and showed up in all his brash Gryffindor glory to save the day.
Regulus’ throat protested so violently at the yell that he knew he’d be vomiting from the pain if he had anything in his stomach.
Water, he remembered desperately, he was surrounded by water.
His heart was pounding erratically and he wondered again if it would simply give out before the poison had run it’s course.
He’d never seen an upside to his weak heart before this very moment.
Everything swirled in and out of focus as he made his way to the edge of the little island and leaned towards the water.
Just as his hand hit the surface everything exploded.
Regulus’ mind was hazy and confused and it wasn’t until he landed in the water that he realized what was happening.
Inferi.
That was a rather brilliant touch, he thought grudgingly.
Ten points to Slytherin.
They scratched and clawed at him, the pain almost dull compared to the poison rushing through his veins but pain nonetheless.
He wondered idly what would take him first- the Dark lords potion, his own too frail heart or drowning courtesy of the inferi.
Something about the frigid water had given him some clarity of mind and for the first time he wished he’d sent the letters - most of them for Sirius but one each for Pandora, Severus, Barty and his parents.
They sat in his room and knowing Kreacher and how sentimental he was, it could be years before anyone was allowed in the room and found them.
“I’m sorry, Sirius,” he said aloud, because what else could he say?
As far as last words went those weren’t bad.
He really was sorry for everything.
At least now he could never hurt Sirius again.
And as the inferi pulled his head under water he couldn’t help but smile.