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The lake was deathly still. The dark, almost tar-like water rippled gently, thick, viscous, like honey. Just definitely not as sweet.
Regulus stared down at his hands, which were shaking. He balled them up, trying to hide it. But from who? He was alone here. All alone. Except for Kreacher, who was crouched by this leg, lips moving, but no sound coming out.
But a thought kept flicking across his mind, kept clouding his vision, a scene branding his eyes, replaying endlessly.
“Hey, Reggie, listen to me. If you ever need me, just call, okay? I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
He touched the thin, delicate chain around his neck, a dainty, silver thing, and on the end, a flat metal disk, with the constellations Leo and Canis Major engraved on it, inked in black, with his and Sirius’ stars highlighted, one in green, the other in red.
Regulus fidgeted with it unconsciously, it had almost become a calming, comforting motion, something he had gotten used to.
He realised, and dropped his hand, gritting his teeth, setting his jaw, and he walked forwards, the gentle lap of the waves the only thing breaking the suffocating silence, but eventually it just became part of it, too repetitive, too.. odd.
Regulus reached out, grasping where he knew the little boat would be, where Kreacher had told him.
It was there. A weathered chain, emitting a faint, pale-ish glow materialised in his hand, a small, ghostly green rowboat appearing on the other end of the chain.
Something seemed to stir in the water, setting Regulus’ heart rate through the roof, but after a few deep breaths, he calmed himself, slowly, careful not to touch the water, he climbed into the boat, Kreacher clambering after him, eyes squeezed shut, still muttering unheard things under his breath.
The boat seemed to sail, not needing guidance. It knew where to go.
The rocky island seemed barely feet away, and lifetimes farther at the same time. But there was no stopping the gentle tap as the ghostly pale wood tapped the rough, slick stone, indicating their arrival.
There it was. The basin. It was tall, and hewn roughly from an emerald-like crystal, all jagged edges and sharp angles, and filled with a clear potion, the locket clearly visible at the bottom.
Regulus climbed out the boat, swinging a leg over the magical planks that it was made up of, and took a few steps forwards, intrigued. He didn’t turn as he heard Kreacher following him out of the boat, no doubt still with his eyes shut.
He waved his wand, and a dark, burnished silver goblet materialised from the tip of his wand, and he caught it.
Moving to dip it into crystalline liquid, he hesitated. His fingers on his free hand ran once again over the pendant dangling from his neck, recalling his conversation with his older brother once again.
Stop. Just do it. He told himself, shoving the memory away, shelving it, storing it in the back of his head.
Regulus’ hands were shaking as he dipped the goblet in, watching it seamlessly enter the clear potion. He brought it to eye level, inspecting it.
After a long while, he finally spoke up.
“Kreacher.”
The house elf perked up, opening his eyes to slivers, shaking like a leaf.
“Y..yes Master Regulus?”
“Kreacher. I am going to drink this potion. I will beg you to let me stop, but you will not. You will continue to give this potion to me, until the basin is empty, then you will take the locket, and go home. Go home, and try to destroy it. This is an order. Understood?”
Kreacher seemed to shrink away, in fear, but not for himself.
“Y..yes Master Regulus-“ he squeaked, a stark difference from his usual grumble.
Regulus’ face softened, as he looked at the elf sympathetically.
“This has to be done.”
And then the goblet was at his lips, tilting back, the crystalline liquid running down his throat.
Regulus bit back a gasp, the sensation of the potion running down his throat was comparable to having gasoline poured into his mouth, and having a match set to his tongue.
He gritted his teeth, and dipped the goblet back in. This time he was expecting the pain, but not the memories.
They came rushing back, carefully buried under years of delusion, bursting through the careful shield he had built around his mind.
Him and Sirius. He was five, Sirius six, playing under the walnut tree in the back garden. It was a twisted, cankered old thing, and when a branch had fallen, and hit Regulus on the head, he had begun to cry. Walburga had stormed out, starting to scream about how crying made a man weak, when Sirius had thrown a rock at the house, shattering one of the delicate, stained glass windows, diverting his mothers attention from him.
All he remembered after that were Walburga’s screeches of Lacero, over and over, and Sirius lying in bed afterwards, whispering, “It was worth it Reggie,” to him after Regulus had snuck into his room.
He wrenched himself out of the memory, the terror he had felt as Sirius cried out over and over lingering in his head.
Shakily, he dipped the goblet back into the basin. It was half empty now.
Gingerly, he tilted it back, gulping down liquid fire.
He was eight. Sirius nine. Giggling together after Sirius had stuck a dung bomb under the dining table at a family dinner, when both of them had run off into the library after it set off.
But Walburga had found them. She shrieked at them both, until Sirius cried, “It was me mother, Reggie had nothing to do with it!” Regulus opened his mouth to protest, but a sharp look from Sirius cut him off.
Then it was Lacero. Sirius biting his lip so he wouldn’t cry out. Lacero. Sirius making his lip bleed. Lacero. Sirius crying out. Lacero. Tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Lacero. Regulus passing out, hitting his head on a bookshelf.
Later, he had gone to visit Sirius in his room, and he had said the same thing.
“Worth if for you, Reggie.”
Regulus gasped, pulling himself out the memory. He was on his knees. He didn’t remember falling. There was a dull ache in them, but it was insignificant compared the the burning in this chest, the steady ache, sting of the memories haunting him. Why hadn’t he been better to Sirius when he had the chance? When he had done so much for him? The goblet had fallen to the floor, and Kreacher picked it up. It was full of the potion again.
“Yo-You mush drink, Master Regulus-“
Kreacher voice was shaky, and it seemed like he was on the verge of tears.
Regulus realised he was too.
He let Kreacher pour the potion into his mouth. The cave vanished once again.
He was thirteen. Sirius had stayed at the Potters without permission. Walburga had brought him back.
He remembered watching Sirius stand defiantly in the living room, as his mother screamed insults at him. He didn’t so much as flinch, but Regulus noticed the slight hunch of this shoulders whenever she screeched, the barest furrow of his brow, the faintest glimmer of fear in his eyes.
He heard the scream, saw the raised wand, and the flash of light as she cast Lacero, over and over again, until the skin on Sirius’ legs were barely holding on to the muscles beneath.
Regulus felt sick. Sick watching this. Sick of watching his mother torture her own son.
Sirius fell to his knees, head bowed, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.
His mother raised her wand again.
Regulus had had enough.
“Stop- please.”
She froze, slowly turning to stare at him, flinty eyes burrowing deep into his soul.
“What did you say to me?”
Regulus stuttered, struggling to form words, but it was too late.
He didn’t hear the incantation, but he saw the flash of light, felt the sharp, stinging pain on his calf, and the warm, sticky blood trickling down his calf.
Over.
And over.
Until he couldn’t stand.
Until he was curled onto the floor.
He could make out Sirius’ voice, raised and angry, and his mother screaming back at him, the light of her curses ricocheting around the room.
Sirius yelping in pain.
Then nothing.
He woke up in his bed, legs bandaged, a pair of large, worried eyes staring into his.
“Reggie!” Sirius whispered, relief flooding his voice.
“Heya Sirius..”
He eased himself upright, only then noticing the slowly growing puddle of blood around his brother’s legs, eyes widening as he collapsed onto the chair behind him. Barely conscious.
Regulus snapped back to the cave. It was foggy, everything was blurred. The only thing he processed was the gentle press of the goblet against his lips, and the liquid fire running down his throat, causing him to cough, to choke, to scream, cry out, before being pulled beneath, back to revisiting the memories he tried hardest to rid himself of.
Sirius was 16. Regulus had just walked in on his brother arguing with Bellatrix, and his mother and father, shouting about not pledging his allegiance. Regulus shrunk back, back to the door, frozen.
He watched as his mother raised her wand. He expected Lacero. But the red light, and her screech of “CRUCIO” made him flinch, as he watched, transfixed in horror as Sirius, his brother, the one who taken so many punishments for him, the one who made him smile, the one who could make him giggle even when he was in his moods, writhed on the ground, screaming in pure, utter agony.
It didn’t get better. His mother stepped away, disgust and something that looked like.. a sick, sick pleasure painted on her face, and his father took her place, repeating the process. Then Bella. They went back around. Taking turns.
At some point, Regulus had screamed at them to stop, but they just ignored him, apart from Bellatrix, who cackled madly, and just continued, as if torturing her cousin with an unforgivable curse was daily business for her.
Sirius had eventually stopped fighting back, stopped responding, just lying limp on the floor. His mother, father and cousin just left, not bothering to check on Sirius, not even glancing at him, not paying any mind.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Regulus rushed forward, resting a finder on Sirius’ neck, looking for a pulse, praying, begging—
He felt it. The faintest pulsation of the artery beneath his finger. It was barely there. But still there.
“Sirius!” He remembered crying out, shaking his brother by the shoulders, tears streaming down his pale, freckled cheeks.
“Sirius!” He cried out, fingers closing over the pendant slung around his neck.
That was the only thing he remembered before the immense thirst hit him.
“W-water-“ he croaked, crawling on his stomach to the edge of the rocky island.
“Regulus!”
His head snapped up, the voice familiar. Too familiar.
Sirius.
He was here.
He had come.
He didn’t ask how he had gotten into the cave, how he had gotten past the door that required a blood sacrifice.
He didn’t care.
All he cared about was his brother, standing on the opposite side of the black lake.
“You.. you came.”
Regulus managed to whisper, his throat still parched.
“You called, Reggie.”
Came the reply, and Regulus smiled.
“Sirius?”
“Yeah Reg?”
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
“I love you too- sorry for what?”
“For this.”
Regulus mumbled, and crawled along to the waters edge, and cupped his fingers around the inky water, and brought it to his mouth to drink.
The hands reached out, grabbing hold of him, his arms, his legs, his face.
He flailed. The struggled. But they were stronger. He felt himself going under. Going. Going.
Just before his face was submerged, he cried out, one last time.
“Sirius!”
Then he was gone.
“Regulus!” Came the voices of both Sirius and Kreacher, the latter holding the locket. The locket that was at the bottom of the basin.
“No-no, no! Reggie!”
The sound Sirius made was heart wrenching, gut twisting, an animal sound of pure grief and despair.
Regulus was gone, gone beneath the surface.