Chapter Text
Regulus throws up all over the corpse once he pushes the knife through the poor man’s heart and then cleans him to preserve some dignity, with hands shaking so badly it was a wonder the spell was cast at all.
There’s no recorded way to destroy a horcrux, so Regulus makes a decision - he’ll have to live long enough to find out how, so he can make sure Voldemort stays dead. The only way to ensure his own immortality until then, is to make his own.
His victim is carefully chosen, a muggle kidnapped by Death Eaters to use as a hostage. By the time Regulus finds him in the Black dungeons, the man is a faint breath away from death. The creation of a horcrux is a dark act, so Regulus knows it cannot be a mercy killing, so he chooses the man who begs him to live; but he allows himself the private relief of considering it such.
He cries, still, over the dead body, promising to bury it, before he casts the darkest spell he’s ever learnt. He passes out after that and wakes up in his bedroom, because Kreacher had retrieved him. In his hands folded above his chest lies a pendant, not inexpensive but elegant, not a heirloom nor an artifact of great importance. It’s thrumming with power.
A few days later, the Dark Lord summons him to Malfoy Manor, and he’s given a mission to head to the middle of nowhere. Regulus gets the sinking suspicion he’s going to die, and his pendant is burning a hole in his pocket, so he needs to hide it now.
Luckily for him, Malfoy Manor is a great old house full of dark magic artifacts, so another one will likely go amiss even with scrying spells. He has a short window before he’s set to leave, so he paces the family wing and thinks of concealing it behind a portrait no one would move, when he passes by a cracked door.
Regulus peers in. It’s his cousin.
“Hello, Draco,” Regulus whispers. The baby is awake, tended to by an elf, who bows and scurries out with a wave of Regulus’s hand. Draco babbles to him and throws his arms out, like he wants to be picked up, so Regulus does. If he’s going to die soon, he might as well say a proper goodbye-
A niggling thought enters the back of his mind and he fishes the pendant from his pocket. Should he give the - no, he’d be a monster to pawn a dark artifact on a baby. He’d drop it into the lake, instead.
Draco slaps a hand on Regulus’s cheek. He smiles. “So strong, aren’t you?” The baby giggles.
The nursery door opens and Regulus immediately whirls to put his body between Draco and the intruder, but then relaxes upon seeing his in-law. “Lucius. I just came to see Draco, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Draco’s father comes to stand by Regulus and looks over the pair with soft eyes, weary but fond. “He looks like Narcissa, doesn’t he?”
“He does.” Regulus smiles at Draco in the crook of his arm. “He’s got her eyes.”
“And yours,” Lucius grins. “You Black children all share such similar characteristics.”
“It’s the inbreeding, I’d wager,” Regulus says.
Lucius looks appalled. “I didn’t say-”
“Just a joke,” Regulus reassures. “Probably somewhat true. Good thing you’re here to mix in some Malfoy for us, huh?”
“Good thing,” Lucius deadpans, and the two men laugh amicably before Lucius spots the piece of jewelry in Regulus’s grip.
“What do you have there?”
“Oh.” Regulus’s fingers curl tighter over the pendant, the chain biting into the grooves of his fingers. “I… thought of giving this to Draco.” This is a bad idea.
“He’s a bit too young for it, don’t you think?” Lucius says and extends a hand. Hesitantly Regulus drapes it over his palm. Lucius holds it out to the light, admiring the glint of the crystal, and then nods. “I’ll hold it for him.” To Regulus’s relief, instead of keeping it on his person, he walks to Draco’s bedside cabinet and deposits it in a box. That should remain hidden longer; no one should rummage through an infants’ things for dark magic, right?
“He’s so small.” Regulus plants a light kiss on the top of Draco’s head.
“You were once that small,” Lucius says, his lips quirked up. “There’s a picture of Narcissa holding you as a baby, somewhere around here-”
“I never want to see it,” Regulus declares. Draco begins to fuss so Regulus returns him to his father, and almost thinks of bidding Lucius a formal goodbye, but it would have been revealing too much. “I have to go. I’ll see you around.”
“Visit soon,” Lucius says. Regulus waves at both he and Draco, and never sees them again.
Regulus has been asleep for a long, long time. A hazy awareness comes to him in like a ripple of a wave over his submerged consciousness, and the first thing he registers is light. Diffused, distorted light, and soft hands turning him over.
A child’s voice, light and curious, sounding far-away. “Mama, what’s this?”
“What do you have there, my dear dragon?” A woman’s voice. “Oh, this belonged to one of my cousins.”
“Who?”
“You probably don’t remember him, darling. He passed away when you were very little.” The woman sounded sad. “But he once held you in his arms, like this.”
A jostle. “Mama!” A giggle. “Why is this here?”
“Oh, I remember… yes, this was a gift. You were too young for it, so we kept it for you.”
“It’s pretty. Can I wear it?”
“Of course, darling. Turn around…”
It takes a while for his senses to return to him, and when it does he spends time observing the boy - Draco - from his eyes. He’s a short child, so everything is quite big, and Regulus feels like he’s exploring the world anew again despite feeling that the house should be quite familiar. It comes to him in bits and pieces - his memory. He sees his portrait on the wall and realizes - That’s me, and I’m dead.
He learns more about the world in a way that’s explained to a child, and when he hears the Draco’s speak of the war - in hushed tones, he remembers: It’s not over, the Dark Lord is not dead.
There’s little he can do in this form, though.
He tries to listen on, but Narcissa (his cousin) and her husband do not speak about the war in front of their seven year old son. They speak of certainty about the world moving forward, and Regulus is at unease. They are not prepared in the slightest.
One day, Regulus wakes and knows there’s something different. He can’t quite describe what has changed, but his suspicions are confirmed, because Draco wakes up not too long ago and makes eye contact with him.
Draco is startled but he doesn’t look scared. Perhaps he recognizes Regulus, in a subconscious way? “Who are you?”
Regulus bows. “My name is Regulus Black.”
The kid’s eyes light up. “You're my mama’s cousin!” He has cool grey eyes just like Narcissa.
Regulus smiles. “You must be Draco Malfoy. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Did you walk out of your portrait? Or are you a ghost?” Draco asks, and reaches out to touch Regulus; who stands there, fully expecting Draco’s hand to pass directly though, but it lands solidly. They look at each other in surprise.
“...You can think of me as a… better ghost,” Regulus says, kneeling down and ruffling Draco’s hair now that he knows he can. “I’m hiding in that necklace of yours,” he says. “I’m… playing hide and seek, with your Mama and Papa. So you have to help me win, okay? That means pretending you cannot see and hear me.” He feels a little disgusting saying it, but reasons to himself that he’ll be there to ward off anyone else that uses a similar tactic, who actually means Draco harm.
“Okay,” Draco nods enthusiastically, and Regulus feels terrible.