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I'm so heavy
Jump into my ocean
Can't you see me sinking?
Love the fear of falling
Don't you know I'm too young?
Can't you hear me calling you?
Nothing hurts me now
Mum, Luke Hemmings
The wind howled around the rocky outcrop that Regulus apparated to. The rain, though light, felt like glass shards piercing into his skin. The clouds stormy and ominously black felt appropriate for what he imagined would be his fate. With a snap, Kreacher appeared beside him, looking up at him with an emotion Regulus couldn’t read in his eyes. Pity, perhaps. No, it appeared that the elf was already mourning him.
When Kreacher had returned to Grimmauld Place a few days ago half dead, hanging on only due to his master’s orders, it had been Regulus’s last straw. He had never entirely believed the words of the Dark Lord. Not since James, the sun that had brought warmth to his cold and desolate life - or lack thereof. Kreacher had recounted the events of the night over the following hours, describing the cave the Dark Lord had apparated them to, the blood sacrifice, the boat on the eerily calm lake, the crystal island and the Drink of Despair that the Dark Lord had forced down his throat that had made him see dreadful hallucinations of death, and torture, and never-ending doom. Regulus had poured his all into first healing the loyal house-elf, and then researching what it was that the Dark Lord was protecting so thoroughly. The results had horrified him - the Dark Lord had made a horcrux, the epitome of evil and dark magic. Though Regulus supposed, he could not be entirely surprised at this revelation, because what was the Dark Lord if not the epitome of evil and dark magic himself? This discovery had led him to the cliff face where he stood. Regulus was going to make him mortal once more - even if it killed him in the process.
As Regulus entered the cave with Kreacher, after weakening himself with the blood sacrifice - Kreacher had insisted he provide the sacrifice, but Regulus had deemed that the elf had already been through far too much to inflict this upon him as well - there was an eerie calm that settled over the pair. The cave was silent except for their breathing, the lake that surrounded them almost completely was so still, and yet, Regulus could not see a thing that was in the water - he supposed he’d rather not find out. Picking up a small stone from the ground, Regulus transfigured a small boat for them to travel across the water to the crystal island that lay, waiting for them, in the middle. As they reach the island, Regulus can feel his heart beating faster and his hands starting to shake. Up until this point, he had not allowed himself to feel any emotions regarding what was happening, but now, in the face of his imminent death, fear and regret were the only things he could feel. He held Krecher’s hand, helping the still frail house-elf out of the boat and onto solid ground.
“Kreacher, I order you to ignore anything I say under the influence of the potion. I want you to keep forcing me to drink - no matter what I say or how I feel. Once I have drunk it all, I need you to take the locket and replace it with the fake,” he said, handing the elf the locket with his note safely inside. “I need you to save yourself and destroy it.”
“Master, I-” Kreacher began, obviously distraught at the thought of inflicting Regulus with the same pain and anguish that he had endured only days before.
“Kreacher. That was an order.”
The elf hung his head low - he could not defy a direct order, especially not from his Master Regulus. The pair walked up to the crystal pedestal containing the Drink of Despair and, eventually, the horcrux. Regulus readied himself, closing his eyes and taking a final breath, before raising his hand to the chalice, collecting a dose of the potion, and bringing it to his mouth. Without even swallowing, the potion began its effect, burning his mouth and almost causing Regulus to spit out the poisonous liquid. He swallowed with a grimace before an influx of memories rose to the surface of his mind.
The first memory that flashed into his mind was of when he was about 6 and Sirius was 7. He had just broken one of the precious family heirlooms - a vase from the 11th century if their Mother was to be believed - and, of course, he had not intended to trip on the edge of the rug and knock into the side table in the hall, but he was only 6 years old. His Mother, in all her fury, had decided that the appropriate punishment for this transgression was the Cruciatus Curse. Regulus, having been carefully protected from the parents by Sirius, had never faced such a severe punishment before - he’d previously only been lectured, and occasionally had a stinging jinx cast, though, there was the one time that their Father had decided that children should be seen and not heard and had cast Silencio on the two sons for a week when they had been only 3 and 4. Sirius had left that morning with their Father to attend to Ministry business as the Black Heir, so he had not been there that time to take the blame for the offence. His mother had left him lying, still seizing in pain on the ground of the entrance hall. He was not sure how long he lay there, likely at least an hour, unable to move for the pain when Sirius and their Father arrived home. Their Father simply scowled at his youngest son, before walking around his body and further into the house. Sirius, however, had run over to his brother, immediately consoling his younger brother, “Just try to relax Reg, I know it hurts but you need to stop tensing your muscles, I promise it will help. I'm sorry. I wasn't here. I'm so sorry” he rambled, stroking the curly hair of his brother, trying to provide some degree of comfort. Sirius had summoned Kreacher and the pair had helped move Regulus up into his room and under the covers of his bed - the warmth provide the smallest amount of relief to his aching muscles. Though that morning had been the first time that Regulus Arcturus Black had felt the Cruciatus Curse, it would not nearly be the last time, and he would not have Sirius there to protect him.
He takes another sip
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black stood out from the other families on Platform 9 ¾. Walburga Black stood with her face tilted upwards, looking down upon the impure and inferior. Orion Black stood next to his wife, and despite their close proximity, there was clearly no love shared between the two. Their eldest son, Sirius - the disappointment - stood as far away from his family as he could without being seen as separate, eagerly craning his neck and looking for the friends he had made the previous year. And Regulus - the spare - stood just in front of his parents, his mother’s hand resting on his shoulder. From other parents, this may be viewed as a sign of affection, but in the House of Black, this was merely another method of control. The train blew its whistle, calling for the students to board the Hogwarts Express, and with a stern look from their parents and a promise to not disappoint, the brothers made their way onto the train. Sirius was leading Regulus down the corridor, searching the compartments for his friends, he had promised Regulus over the summer to introduce them. They had kept this a secret from their parents, Regulus having been told on multiple occasions to not associate with the like of Sirius’s friends - blood traitors, half-breeds and mudbloods - yet Regulus was eager to meet the people his brother adored so much. Sirius abruptly paused and pulled open the sliding door of a compartment, dragging his brother inside. “Hello boys, have a nice summer? This is my little brother Regulus. He’s going to join us in Gryffindor - I just know it” Sirius announced before introducing him to Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and the infamous James Potter. Sirius had not gone a minute over the summer break without talking about his fantastic Gryffindor friends, especially James, so Regulus knew they must be special - especially when they seemed to get more of Sirius’s attention than he did. The 3 boys had simply nodded - the taller one with mousy brown hair and a rather severe scar on his face, Remus he now knew, had waved - before animatedly discussing the events of the summer and their pranking plans for the year. Regulus sat in the corner of the compartment watching his brother interact with his friends. He seemed content with them - happy even. It was then that Regulus realised a simple fact - that he was simply not enough for his brother, and he never would be, no matter much he wished nor how hard he tried. He was no James Potter, for how could he live up to the joyful intensity that James Potter seemed to radiate? After the sorting ceremony that evening, after Sirius had glared at him as he walked towards the Slytherin table, Regulus knew that he would no longer be considered Sirius’s brother - that role belonged to James Potter now.
Sip
From his room, a floor above the drawing room, he could hear the screams of his older brother, the bloodcurdling cries of anguish. He could see the scene in his mind - his brother, writhing on the floor as their parents stand above him, glaring down and cursing him. He sat there tensed, his hands clenched into fists, his knuckles cutting into his palms. He knew there was nothing he could do realistically to help him, nothing at least that wouldn't involve getting hurt himself. And that was the thing, wasn't it? Regulus was not brave nor defiant - he was a scared little boy who would never be able to stand against his parents, their beliefs, or their orders. He was destined to a life of servitude, following his parents' wishes, and eventually, following the orders of their beloved Dark Lord. It had been going on for hours now. He wasn’t entirely sure how it had started either. They had been eating dinner, their parents likely making a comment about Hogwarts, or Sirius’s friends, or the steadily approaching war, and Sirius likely retorting with some offhand comment that their parents had taken offence to and Regulus was sent up to his room and Sirius was petrified and levitated into the drawing room where all his punishments seemed to take place - under the unnerving eyes of the family portraits and Black family tree. Now, almost 3 hours following dinner, did he hear the screams stop. He wasn’t sure what this meant - if their parents had simply decided the punishment was over, or more sinisterly if they had managed to kill their heir. He waited a few minutes, waiting for their parents to vacate the room, before he descended down the stairs, entered the drawing-room, and came face to face with the almost lifeless body of his older brother. Despite his corpse-like appearance, Sirius was alive, that much he could tell from the constant spasming of his limbs and the weak whimpers of pain. He crouched by his brother’s head and saw that his eyes were glazed over - this was not good. He knew that next time Sirius spoke out the punishment would be even more intense - somehow- and he wasn’t sure that he’d survive it.
“Sirius” he spoke softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “I need you to wake up now, I’m sorry.” Sirius groaned but otherwise was seemingly unable to respond. Not surprised, Regulus stood and levitated Sirius into an upright position, moving him over towards the fireplace housed in the back corner of the room.
As he was moved, Sirius’s eyes opened, finding Regulus’s, “Reggie?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked from hours of screaming.
“Siri, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more for you. But you need to leave” he whispered back.
“No, not without you. I need you to come with me. Please Reg” Sirius begged, his voice choked as his eyes welled up.
“Siri, they’ll never let both of us out. Go be with James. Go be with your brother. He’s brave enough to protect you against them.” Regulus said as he placed Sirius’s still immobile body in the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.
“But you’re my brother, Reg.”
“Goodbye, Sirius” Reg responded simply, throwing the powder and muttering the address of Potter Manor. He watched Sirius’s body disappear in the glow of green flames, and then, unable to move, stood there staring at the place his brother used to be.
“I love you” he whispered.
(Regulus wouldn’t find this out until later, but the torture inflicted upon his brother had messed with his mind to such a degree that he would have no recollection of the night - only becoming conscious once arriving at the Potters. James would ask how he managed to drag himself to the Manor, and Sirius would only shrug in response, having no memory of the one time his brother was brave enough to fight for him.)
Sip
It was the beginning of November in his 6th Year the first time Regulus went to the Astronomy Tower. It was the day following his brother’s birthday, and while he no longer had the ability to be with his brother on his birthday, he could still see his star. He’d come up to the tower, not expecting anyone to be around stargazing after curfew, but instead found himself sharing the space with one of the last people he wanted to see - James Potter. He sighed and resigned himself to talking to the closest thing he had left of a brother with company. He walked forward to the balcony and leaned against the railing, looking up and finding his brother with ease. He could almost feel Potter join him, leaning against the rail, leaving a metre or so’s gap between them.
“Can you see your star this time of year?” he asked.
“What?” Regulus said, startled at Potter acknowledging him.
“I asked if your star was visible this time of year. Is it?” he responded.
“Uh,” Regulus said, stealing a second to centre his thoughts. “Yeah, it is,” pointing in the direction of the Leo constellation. “And Sirius is right over there.”
Potter nodded, following the line of Regulus’s finger to see the stars of the two broken and disconnected brothers. They stood there, the unlikely pair of stargazers, looking at the night sky for several minutes before some overwhelming urge overcame Regulus and he spoke again.
“You know, we can’t see it - it’s too far away - but right there, in the Leo constellation, there's a star named Icarus.” Potter hummed in response, encouraging Regulus to keep speaking.
“Do you know the myth of Icarus?” When Potter shook his head no, he continued. “I’ve always been drawn to it, maybe something of the tragedy seems to appeal to me. Icarus was the son of a famed craftsman, Daedalus and due to the king’s outrage over some of Daedalus’s actions, he imprisoned the father and son in a tower. Icarus grew restless in their imprisonment, and Daedalus devised a plan of escape, crafting wings for himself and his son so they could fly away from the land and escape the wrath of the king. Before their escape, Daedalus warned Icarus not to fly too high as the heat of the sun would melt the wax holding the wings together. They flew out towards their freedom, though Icarus began flying higher and higher until eventually, the wax melted off his wings and he fell to his death, drowning in the sea.” Finishing the story, Regulus turned to Potter to find him already looking back at him.
“Do you think, maybe,” Potter began carefully. “That the reason you like that myth so much is because it mirrors your relationship with Sirius?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Potter,” Regulus replied steadily, carefully keeping his voice emotionless.
“I know what you did for him over the summer, Regulus. He didn’t say - he can’t remember - but it sure as hell wasn’t your parents that got him out. And there's only one more person left that it could be,” Potter said meaningfully. “Don’t you see the parallels? You were both trapped in a house and punished for every action and while Sirius gets his freedom - he is able to fly away - you are still trapped there with your wax melted, drowning in the misery of that house.”
Regulus breathed out sharply. “You have no idea what you’re talking about Potter, and it would do you well to keep your opinions to yourself.” Regulus turned around, striding towards the door, as Potter grabbed his wrist.
“Wait. Regulus -” he started. “I’m sorry. Please, just stay. You can talk to me.”
“I’m not one of your projects, Potter. You can’t save me from my fate like you did my brother.”
“Okay,” he said simply. “I might not be able to save you, but I can be here for you.”
Trust Potter to have the biggest saviour complex Regulus had ever come across, he thought. “Fine,” he said. “You can be ‘here for me’, but that doesn’t mean anything, I’m not going to tell you anything. I’m not Sirius.”
In response, James grinned at him, and damn if that smile didn't piece together a bit of Regulus’ broken soul, making him feel the slightest bit whole for the first time in his life.
Sip
It was almost May now, and James had turned Regulus into a complete and utter pining fool. They met at least once a week, though often more, in the privacy of the Room of Requirement, creating one of the only spaces Regulus had ever felt safe in - a warm fire-lit room with bookshelves on every wall and velvet lounge that they often sat on, cuddled in each other’s embrace. Regulus was happy. This confused him. He knew it couldn’t possibly last. He had received a letter that morning from his mother. It had stated what would await him this summer - the honour of a lifetime of servitude to the Dark Lord and his noble cause. He felt sick - especially so when he looked across the Great Hall and caught the eye of James who gave him a small smile before turning back to his group of friends. When he arrived in the Room that night, James was already there waiting for him as usual. He didn’t know what to say, how exactly does one bring up that he’s being forced to join a blood supremacist paramilitary group? He walked over to the lounge, taking his usual seat next to James, essentially half in the other’s lap. James’s finger immediately found his curls and started running his fingers through his hair as Regulus leaned into James’s shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.
“How was your day, love?” James murmured.
Regulus sighed, enjoying the peace of their undefined relationship for what he could only assume would be the last time. “I received a letter this morning,” he stated. “From Mother.”
“Oh?”
“She was informing me of the proud duty I will be fulfilling this summer,” Regulus said, almost clinically, lacking all emotion. “It has been decided that I am to join the Death Eaters.”
“Reg, love. No.” James said immediately, the gentle caress of his fingers in Regulus’s hair stopping. “Surely this is it, Reg. Now is the time you leave too. Come on, I’ve told you already that my mum would love to have you stay with us, and I’m sure Sirius would be delighted once we explained the situation. Please, love.”
Regulus paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. It was just then that he realised that as much as he’d wish on every star in the sky for that to be a reality, it never could be. His parents would never accept both sons leaving them - they would be heirless. They would drag him back - or worse, Sirius - and after punishing him thoroughly for his crimes, they’d put him under Imperio, surely. And then Merlin knows what they’d do to the Potters in retaliation, they wouldn't be left unscathed - especially once they knew what they meant to the two Black sons.
And that was when Regulus realised his choice was already made. He was nothing if not self-sacrificial - especially when the few he loved were on the line.
And oh. He loved him. Regulus loved James.
And that was the tragic truth, wasn’t it? Because as soon as he became aware of his love - and just how deeply it flowed - it was destined to end. There could be no happy ending for them, could there? They were always going to end this way, with first Sirius and now James escaping while Regulus fell down from such a height, plummeting down and drowning in his love for them - wishing, hoping, dreaming, for them to be free.
“James, darling. I’m sorry. I can’t turn away from them, despite it all, they are my family.” Regulus said, watching the light that had burned him up from the inside, melting his broken pieces, extinguish at his words.
“Right,” James said, standing and silently walking out of the room, not looking back once.
Regulus knew that there were no other words that James would accept - none that would stop him from fighting to get Regulus out and to keep him safe from their wretched grasp. So of course Regulus lied. He might not be brave enough to do much - not brave enough to leave, not brave enough to love James, not brave enough to do good - but he could do this. He could save James Potter
Because Regulus was nothing if not self-sacrificial - especially when the few he loved were on the line.
He took the last sip
Regulus Arcturus Black was only 17 when he took the Dark Mark. It was an honour for The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - their heir was the youngest to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. Immediately following his initiation - the branding as he called it in his head - he was ordered to participate in a raid, an attack on a home of muggles. He was one of five death eaters sent on the mission and while he did not torture any of the victims - the others seemed to take a horrific delight in doing so - he still had to kill one.
He threw up as soon as he was in the privacy of his room.
He knew this would be his new reality - the mindless soldier that took pleasure in the torture and murder of the innocent - but death at his own hands was something he could not yet stomach. He spent what felt like aeons in the shower, scrubbing his skin raw trying desperately in vain to remove the staining of blood despite the lack of it with the use of avada kedavra.
Their soulless eyes and tormented screams haunted him every time his eyes closed.
It was a month later, around mid-July, when Regulus was sent on another mission. He was to collect intel on the vigilante group the Order of the Phoenix and to discover the location of their safehouses. This mission lasted several weeks as he and his team followed members of the group, uncovering next to nothing. It was when they were slipped information about a supposed safe house inside a dilapidated warehouse that everything went downhill. This was a victory in the eyes of the Dark Lord, but for Regulus - who could only assume that his brother and his love were a part of this group - it could only be a death sentence. He closed his eyes, steadied himself, and accepted his orders for an immediate ambush.
The group descended upon the safe house, using the element of surprise to their advantage. Several members of the Order streamed out of the house, wands at the ready and prepared to fight. He got split from his group, duelling the order members around him with chilling precision - though, unlike his team members, sending only injuring spells their way, not killing curses. As he incapacitated more and more of those around him he was left with only one opponent left, and - oh - this one would hurt, he could recognise those eyes anywhere. Even with his face obscured by his mask, he could tell in James’s eyes that he knew who he was. For a split second his brown eyes softened before he seemed to orient himself to the situation, then, they hardened into a furious glare. Regulus stumbled in his casting for a split moment - James had never looked at him like that, sure there had been looks of disbelief, annoyance, and sadness, but never anger, not to this degree. The stumble allowed James the opportunity to stun him, resulting in Regulus lying stiff on his back staring up at a motionless James, who seemed to be contemplating what to do - they were well enough away from the rest of the battle that he had an opportunity for a moment to be shared between the two tragic lovers.
James leant down, crouching on his left side, removing his death eater mask and rolling up his sleeve to see the ugly branding on his forearm. “I hope you know,” James said, cooly. “That I can never forgive you for this.”
The stunning spell had worn off by this point, but James’s words left Regulus frozen. Gathering all his strength and will, he met James's gaze, for likely the last time, “I know,” he said.
James breathed out sharply in frustration, rising to his feet quickly, and stalking off, right into the thick of the battle.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispered from the ground.
As the effects of the potion wear off, Regulus becomes aware of several things at once - one, his vision, though still blurry, has returned to normal, two, he can see Kreacher taking the locket and replacing it with his fake, and three, his throat is on fire. He pulls himself forward, his frail and drained limbs moving towards the edge of the water. Despite his concern upon arrival in the cave about what lay below the surface of the water, Regulus could no longer bring himself to care - he was physically and emotionally drained and he thought he might die without a sip of water soon. His hand, shaking violently, reached into the water, bringing the cupful to his mouth slowly - instant relief. He reached forward again, yet this time his hand was met with another. A bony, corpse-like hand reached forward, dragging him with an all-mighty strength further and further into the water. The further he was pulled, the more hands reached out to grasp onto him - any part of flesh they could grab, their nails cutting into his skin - to draw him out further into the depths. Faintly, he could hear Kreacher calling out for him, though he couldn’t bring himself to help himself - the potion had effectively sapped all energy and will to live out of his drained body.
As the hands pulled him below the surface of the water, the memories of his life flashed through his mind once again - the abuse of his childhood, his brother replacing him for someone so much better than he could ever be, the night Sirius was disowned, the night he met James - properly - for the first time, the night James left him, the night he knew James could never forgive him for his actions - no matter how self-sacrificial. Despite all the pain Regulus had been through in his short lifetime, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it all, because, amongst the pain and the sadness and the trauma and the hardship, there had been love - even for just a short while, a fleeting moment, a dwindling mercurial high.
So as water flooded his lungs, Regulus’s last thought was of James - how he hoped that someway, somehow he’d be proud of him - that he’d be proud that he’d finally been brave enough to be good.