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Drip. Drip. Drip. Water dripped from the cave ceiling, beating a rhythm on the cold, damp ground. Drip. Drip. Drip. The wind was cruel and unrelenting, following Regulus into the cave and tugging his hair, biting his lungs.
The air smelled of mound and salt and Regulus wondered when the cave had last basked in the sun, when it had last felt anything other than cold and miserable. His heart twinged in a brief moment of comradery.
The cup was icy beneath his fingers, the liquid inside green and unappealing. Regulus inhaled. This was for the best. It was one step closer to defeating the Dark Lord. Maybe his name would be remembered long after he had forgotten this life. If Regulus Black couldn’t be loved in life maybe he could be loved in death.
Regulus exhaled and pinched his nose before gulping down the poisoned contents of the chalice. It tasted as disgusting as it looked. Regulus gagged on the taste and bent over his knees, retching.
“Master?” A quivering voice spoke up behind him expelling silence from the cave for the short moment while it lasted.
“Kreacher, take the amulet and go” Regulus said, blinking tears out of his eyes and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth “Destroy it”
The world blurred at the edges and Regulus was getting warm, warm at last. Regulus felt light and it was a strange feeling after being shackled to the ground for so long. He wondered for a moment how he got here, alone, poisoned, miserable in a cave facing death and willingly extending his hand. He longed for the sun. He wished he could go back to a time when he thought that he would die wrinkled and content in bed. A time that was so far gone that it felt as though it belonged to a different person.
Regulus stumbled and fell to the ground. The icy rock was welcoming under his feverish forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus saw a pale hand rise from the water. It lunged suddenly and latched onto his arm, fingernails digging into his skin and luring his blood out of the safety of his veins. And then Regulus was being dragged unceremoniously across the cave floor towards the water. At this point he was too weak to do anything other than a rather pathetic attempt at trying to wretch his arm from the malicious hand’s grasp.
The second he crashed below the surface the hand multiplied by ten. They clawed and ripped at his fragile human skin, tearing him to shreds. It hurt, oh God, it hurt. Regulus’ mouth opened in a silent scream. Salt stung his eyes and burned the back of his throat and his lungs.
He thought fleetingly of big brown eyes, warm smiles and glasses glinting in the sun. He thought of hide and seek and midnight feasts and- Sirius, Sirius, it hurts Sirius! Are you proud of me Sirius?
Death cradled Regulus in its forgiving arms, cloaking him in darkness, promising him relief.
He hoped Sirius would be proud