Chapter Text
“Riddikulus.”
One of them reached him, grasping its hands around the hem of his robes.
- Chapter 5 of bird in the hand by amortentia (ofpoetsandsaints), ofpoetsandsaints
“Riddik…”
But the drawing room had melted away from his sight—black curtains becoming shadowed rock walls at the edges of the cave. He could hear splashes from the lake as more Inferi breached its murky surface, crawling over each other on half rotted limbs, reaching for him.
Regulus took a shuffling step back, tripping over his own heavy feet but managing to stay upright.
“No…No…”
There was something he should be doing; his wand was raised—the idea scratched at the back of his mind, tugging him back somewhere, and the cave walls wavered—but tremors shook his arms, and Regulus’s wand dipped toward to the floor as his blurry vision caught onto a burst of movement from the ground before him. The Inferi had taken another swipe, at his knees this time, and he gasped, reeling even further backwards. His head ached, and he was so, so thirsty.
Regulus’s eyes darted around, looking, searching for—
“Kreacher?” he croaked.
His small friend was nowhere to be seen. But he should’ve been just right over…
“Why would Kreacher come to you,” a sneering voice seeped out from the darkness. “Blasted thing only took care of us because Mummy made him, anyway.”
Regulus shook his head dazedly.
“Siri?”
“ Reggie, ” Sirius mocked, and Regulus swore he could feel the huff of breath on the hairs at the back of his neck.
“Pathetic, that—childish.” This time his brother’s voice came from directly beside him.
Regulus whipped his head to the left. Even hearing the harsh words and unforgiving tone, he couldn’t help but to look for his older brother’s familiar form. Regulus had always looked for Sirius—at school in the Great Hall, at home during suffocating, straight-backed family dinners. Knowing he was there soothed something inside of Regulus. Some piece of him that as he got older and the distance grew between them, only grew colder and emptier, sitting deep behind his ribs in his throat and chest. Yet still, no matter how tense things got, Sirius’s very presence made that piece a little lighter, like it might just creep up his throat and escape.
It was solid ice in ribs now though. The cave swam about before him but there was nothing, nobody to his sides or his back. Nothing, except for heavy, dark air and the frothing water.
“And we both know Mummy didn’t really love you either—you do know that right? Spineless, weak, never stood up for yourself or your dear brother…”
Regulus could imagine his brother ticking his offenses off his fingers, one by one.
“Stop,” breathed Regulus, eyes burning as they twitched around the room. Everything was indistinct, blurred at the edges. Why couldn’t he focus? Where was that voice coming from?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Regulus had stopped moving, distracted, but—horrifyingly—felt bloated, waterlogged fingers as they actually grabbed hold of his ankles, brushing past his trousers to touch the tops of his socks, his bare skin. A choked noise clawed its way from his mouth and he yanked himself back until he hit a hard surface.
The stone basin , Regulus’s frantic mind supplied.
Sirius’s voice returned louder in his ears, berating him for his weakness, his cowardice, his ineptitude, until it grew distorted, seemingly merging with other voices—his mother, Bella. You were always the spare, the voices spat. Never good enough.
Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know that he was trying? He had tried so hard to be everything his family had wanted — chosen Slytherin, worked to perfect his manners and marks, joined the Dark Lord and stayed, even as his friends became unrecognizable from the people he still cared for so much — even as Regulus scarcely recognized the person he was anymore. And Sirius — he was trying to be the person his brother wanted for once in his miserable life and stand up for something, do something different than just what Mother or Bella or some Dark Lord had told him to do. He had really tried.
Regulus slid down the basin, hitting the ground. Distantly he heard thuds and knew, just knew that it was the Inferi, making their way up the too small island towards him. Merlin, he was so thirsty. Regulus wondered if the undead would allow him just a drop of water to satiate the terrible thirst before they dragged him under, clawing and drowning and ripping…
He could no longer make out the words of Sirius or his mother or Bella, unable to draw any meaning from their muted cadence over the sound of his own quick breaths. Was he even breathing? Someone must be, he could hear it, but his chest was so, so tight and his mouth was so, so dry .
Shivering, he jerked fingers clumsily to his eyes, humming to try and drown out the damn breathing and the thuds of the Inferi as they came for him, came to drag him away. He was going to die here, in the cold damp cave, without his brother and forever carrying that crushing something in his chest, cradled behind his ribs.
A bang sounded nearby, beside him, but Regulus only tucked his legs in closer, gasping. There was nowhere to run now, not from the snapping teeth, slimy nails, or dead eyes.
Voices now came from around him, in front of him, and Regulus slid his numb hands to his ears, clenching his eyes shut. He didn't want to—couldn't —hear anymore.
“Sorry,” he choked. “I’m so sorry—I can’t…”
Regulus could barely breathe, he could barely think. A hand brushed his knee, pulling out a shameful, involuntary whine. The hand left his knee.
The hand left?
The voices rose above the static and gasps, before falling quiet again. Numbed to his fate and sickly curious, hopeful even, for a final word from his brother before the end, Regulus let his hands slip slightly down from over his ears.
“...happened here?” The tail end of a question filtered in through the gap above his fingers.
“...tried to help…horrible thing just came out of the wardrobe and I…”. A female voice this time, but not one he immediately recognized, at least not from his childhood. The thought struck him suddenly; someone could be there with him. It was a dizzying thought. Part of him became jittery with hope that help had come. He wouldn’t be dragged into the water, wouldn’t drown; he could destroy the horcrux himself and be of use, have a purpose. Sirius would…
The horcrux.
Nobody could know. He dug his trembling fingers into his hair as all remaining color drained from his face. Nobody could know about the Dark Lord’s secret. He would kill him, kill them all—Sirius, Charlie, his friends, Kreacher. Nobody could know.