The End

Jessica Dawn

Kreacher had apparated them to, what seemed to Regulus, a cliff. What on earth had the Dark Lord brought his house elf here for? "Master Regulus must bleed on the rock for the cave to open." Because of course there had to be a blood sacrifice. Regulus cringed and drew his wand, dragging it across his palm with a muttered incantation and splitting the skin there wide open. He certainly wasn't focused enough at the moment to control his power, and he certainly wasn't planning on surviving very much longer.

He'd known that this was likely a suicide mission the moment he'd decided to undertake it. If he didn't die here, in whatever task lay ahead of him, he was definitely going to be killed soon after, when his betrayal came to light. Neither side would have him after this, there was only light and dark, no room for grey. He pressed his bleeding hand to the rock and watched as it slid open. Kreacher stepped inside quickly, crossing to the shore to grab a chain, pulling on it as hard as he could.

Regulus shook his head slightly, "Kreacher, enough. I can do this." He said, crossing the pebbly shore to grab hold of the chain, hauling the small boat out of the water himself. It was exhausting, but he had to press on. No man deserved immortality, not in this most literal sense. Men were meant to achieve immortality through their legacy, the way that his forefathers had done, through their acheivements – not through magical means meant to prevent their death.

"Kreacher and Master Regulus must ride the boat to the island," the elf's voice wavered, knowing just what was about to happen and not looking forward to imbibing the potion again.

Regulus climbed into the boat, pulling Kreacher in before it could depart and rode in silence. He had no intention of forcing his friend to go through that again. No, his elf would never again have to endure that poison. Regulus was sure of that. He was going to drink the potion himself. It didn't take a long time for the boat to arrive on the opposite shore, nestled in the pebbles that comprised the island, and he straightened his robes as he approached the pedestal. He stared through it for a moment, seeing the locket at the bottom and wondering for a moment if the one in his pocket was a good enough fake.

He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to Kreacher, crouching down to be on level with the elf, "Kreacher... No matter what I say, or what happens to me, I want you to make sure that I drink the potion in it's entirety-"

"NO! Kreacher cannot – Master Regulus the potion is so horrid, Kreacher will do this instead, Master Regulus cannot. Kreacher cannot allow Master Regulus to allow such harm to come to him he is sworn to The Noble and Most A-" Kreacher had practically wailed when Regulus began his orders, but was cut off when Regulus pressed a hand to his mouth.

"Enough, Kreacher. You have done this once, and I would not even imagine doing this to you again. What I am telling you is an order. No matter what happens in here right now, I will not survive this war." Regulus had begun again, shaking his head. Was Kreacher crying? He moved his hand from his mouth to wipe at his cheek, finding his hand wet. In an instant he was crying himself, though he found himself urging Kreacher to remain silent so that he could continue with what he had to say.

"Kreacher you must understand, I have made some terrible decisions and have learned so much in the last few years of my life. Everything that happens from now on – the end of this war is dependant on this moment. You have been so much more than a house elf to me, you have been my very best friend, and you could not have made me any more proud than I am right now." He found that he had to reach up now to wipe at his own eyes, as Kreacher blurred in front of him and his tears obscured his vision.

"I am prepared for this. Once I have finished the potion, you must exchange the lockets. Take the one that He placed there with you, and leave this cave. Do not come back for me. Do whatever you must to destroy it – That locket cannot exist. Nod if you understand," he nodded alongside his elf, "If you cannot destroy it yourself, you must swear to me that you will send that locket to somebody who can."

"Kreacher swears, he will see the locket destroyed," the elf's voice wavered again, cracking and breaking as he was given permission to speak, "But Mast-"

"Kreacher, I will not be talked out of this. Promise me that you will have me finish the potion."

Kreacher stared at him, shaking his head, though he found himself already pinching at his ears, unable to ignore an order from his master. He squeezed his eyes closed, his voice barely above a whisper, "Kreacher promises. Master Regulus will finish the potion."

"Your hair is much too long. I will not have my son gallivanting with a ponytail. It's hardly fashionable." She was complaining. Truthfully, it was much more than he'd expected of her. He'd expected her to sob into his arms, mourning the perfect son she'd lost, but it seemed as though she had already moved on to correcting the son she was left with. There was no talk of his father or his brother, if anything, it felt much more like a staff meeting. If he chose to look at it in that way it would probably make things much easier. They did after all both have a job to do.

Hers seemed to be to get him ready for what was expected of him. Regulus had had years to prepare for it, and now the job was going to be rushed. 'None of them care about you, they only care about the name... If you didn't owe it to him you wouldn't be here,'

"Are you listening to me? You're much too skinny, you need to eat. Krea-" She stopped as though she had choked on the word, and he knew that it was only because Kreacher had practically been his elf since the moment he'd been born.

'Cradle to grave,' he thought bitterly, shaking his head, "Mother, I promise that the way I look right now is not how I intend to carry myself. I've lost weight as a result of work, and I simply haven't had the time for a hair cut." His voice betrayed him. The words he spoke weren't his own, but instead what he would have imagined Regulus would have said were he confronted with the argument she put forth.

She tutted – she actually tutted – and drew her wand, "You are a wizard, Sirius Orion Black. Time is no excuse for poor hygiene. You'll find the time to get it sorted out properly soon, I'm sure." Had he been feeling like himself he would have protested, instead, he simply stooped down after she'd cast a severing charm and picked his hair up from the ground, nodding his thanks. "If I could charm some more muscle onto your bones, I would. I've definitely got my work cut out for me, finding a suitable wife for you."

He had to stop the train of thought she was following, awkwardly reaching up to drag his fingers through his newly cropped hair, "Do you not think that we ought to plan a funeral before we plan a wedding? He's certainly deserving of one."

Her entire demeanor changed. Her skin seemed to pale at just the thought, and her eyes were suddenly lifeless. Her shoulders fell, and Sirius ultimately felt guilty for even mentioning it. "And what are we to bury? What if he comes back? What if it's wrong?"

It's. She'd said it's instead of we're, and that thought had him turning on heel, knuckles white around his ponytail as he stalked off to the drawing room to see the tapestry for himself. If she was claiming that it was wrong, that meant that it had changed. If it had changed – well with as much as Sirius himself knew about the tapestry, if it said that he was dead, then he was dead. He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, hesitating when his hand was on the knob.

Did he really want to know that it was right? He already believed it – the locket was heavy on his neck, a constant reminder – so what was the tapestry going to confirm exactly? Only what he already knew, and it was only going to upset him even more. The tapestry was only going to finalize it.

Walburga brushed past him, shaking her own head as she gripped his hand and turned the knob, "I haven't checked in a couple of hours. It might have changed by now," was all she said, though it seemed to him like she wasn't speaking to anyone other than herself. It was as though she was in a daze and hadn't even noticed him standing there, other than as something between herself and the tapestry that she so desperately wanted to see.

He didn't move into the room until he'd heard her wail, stepping in to see her throw herself into an armchair. This was more what he'd been expecting. The only thing that did surprise him was that he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the fact that his mother – 'the one that disowned you' - was openly breaking in front of him. His family had never been emotional, they were all very matter-of-fact and businesslike, even in their relations with each other. Regulus had probably died having never been hugged by anyone since the two of them had been small children. He shook his head, moving over to their corner of the tapestry first – a scorch where he had once been, and beside him was a small portrait of his brother, along with his name, birth year, and the part he'd never seen before – the year of his death.

He wouldn't cry. He refused to cry, especially in front of her. He felt a flash of anger, turning towards her, "We're holding a funeral, with or without his body. You can't spend the rest of your life waiting for him to come back when it isn't going to happen. Do you hear me, mother? Regulus is dead. You can worry about finding a wife for me that we both agree on after you've done right by him. He did right by you his entire life, and if I had to guess it's probably what killed him. You owe him as much as a proper send-off."

She sobbed for a moment longer, shaking her head as she stood and crossed over to the tapestry again, focussing once more on the small corner that had once housed all four of them, and where now there was only one and a burn. She lifted her wand, and Sirius stepped forward to stop her, though he really wasn't sure just what she planned on doing. For all he knew she could have been planning on burning Regulus off of the tree as well – disowning him for daring to die before he gave her a grandchild to carry on her name. She shrugged his hand off of her arm and pressed her wandtip to the wall – to where Sirius' own face had once resided, and with a soft incantation he saw himself reappear.

"I didn't know you grew up in Cornwall, Lily..." James had commented, glancing around the town square that she'd apparated them both into.

Lily shook her head, "I didn't. My doctor works at the hospital here now. I'd much rather see him than a healer at St. Mungos." This was something that she wanted to experience as normally as possible, and while part of her wanted James in the room when she found out, that was where this wasn't a very muggle experience at all. With being caught up in the middle of war, she knew that James wouldn't be as excited as any expectant father should be. The two of them were part of the front lines of this war, and it didn't seem as though there was an end in sight. She didn't want him to remember this as something that he was anything but thrilled for.

"Are you sure you don't want me to hold your hand?" He asked, giving her hand a squeeze as they rounded a corner and the hospital came into view, "I can be a very supportive husband, you know."

"I know that, James, but you also don't know very much about muggle hospitals. I can handle this, and I'll explain it to you after." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before levelling him with a stare, "Promise me though, that if you're going to smoke one of those disgusting cigarettes that you think I don't know about, you'll do it outside? They aren't allowed in the hospital."

James had stared at her, his jaw slacked. He'd done everything he could to hide the horrible habit from her, but then his Lily had always known all of his secrets. He really should have known better than to try and hide anything from her. He gave her a quick kiss before she pulled away, heading up to the hospital and through it's doors. Of course, he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and withdrew one quickly. His hands were shaking from the cold as he put it to his lips, fumbling with the muggle lighter that Sirius had given him several weeks ago. If Lily knew about his dirty habit he was going to have to quit. He didn't see much other option, it wasn't even half as thrilling now that he knew she knew. It was really just something he used to occupy his time, and to de-stress with. It certainly wasn't something that he needed.

He exhaled, moving to stand closer to the building with his free hand in his pocket. He leaned against the white brick, letting his head fall back until it too was pressed against the wall. He certainly hoped that whatever was wrong with Lily her doctor would be able to help with. He didn't know very much about medicine, but he certainly knew that getting sick like this – like clockwork – was not a good thing. They'd been married a little over a year now with little to celebrate due to the war. Getting sick wasn't something that they could celebrate either. Sure they were happy in their downtime, the fleeting moments that they weren't worried about work, or blood status, or Order business. He took another drag from the cigarette, blowing it out quickly. A cab pulled up in front of him then, and he wasn't entirely sure why it had caught his attention so much. He really was distracted thinking about his wife, but maybe it was just easier to focus on whatever was going on in front of him.

He had not been expecting a familiar face to step out of the door when it swung open, and he found himself tossing the cigarette down and stamping it out, "Isaiah? Izzat you?" he had to ask. He hadn't seen or heard from the Scot since he'd left school, and Cornwall was definitely the last place he'd thought he'd ever come across him again.

The man in question shook his head, crossing the short distance to James quickly. "You never saw me. I wasn't here." He spoke in low tones, his accent thicker than James remembered it being. He was bigger too – not necessarily taller, but definitely broader. He was definitely an intimidating man, whih was hilarious because James knew him, and knew that he would never intentionally harm anyone that wasn't out to harm him. When he'd first come to the school he'd idolized the older man. He'd had a knack for causing mayhem and coming out of it unscathed. He knew that in his entire time at Hogwarts the Scot had served only four detentions, despite probably having deserved hundreds more, and all four of those had been for duelling with Rodolphus Lestrange.

But then he'd disappeared shortly after his class had left the school, and now here he was, at a hospital in Cornwall of all places. He knew Isaiah's parents were both muggles, but he also knew that Isaiah had come up with a plan to move his family away from the UK before he'd left school. So what was he doing here? James shook his head slightly, "Where have you been? We've wondered about you- Is your family okay? Are you safe?" He had a hundred questions, he wanted to just grab his arm and apparate away with him and force him to answer them all, but he couldn't. Lily was inside, and who even knew why Isaiah was here.

Isaiah shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples. It was probably more accurate to call James a fan than a friend, but he didn't have time for this. It was ridiculous to think that he'd been the only one to recognize Regulus, and if he wanted his chance to step up, he had to deliver him to Dumbledore, and prove that he was worth more than being saved for a rainy day, when they needed more numbers to fight. He couldn't let James distract him, and so he did his best to distract James. "Congratulations," he'd started, clapping him on the back, "I'm sure the wedding was lovely, and I'm sorry I didn't take the time to send you a gift, but I never did get a chance to see the registry – We'll go for drinks sometime and you can tell me all about it, yeah? Still a whiskey man? I've heard the stories. Listen mate -" He stopped speaking only for a moment, and only to press a finger to James' lips to keep him quiet, "I'm late for an appointment here, and I'm supposed to be in hiding, so it's very important that you don't say a word to anyone that you saw me here. Not even your wife, understand?"

James nodded and then quickly shook his head. He'd opened his mouth to say something the second Isaiah had lifted his finger, but he was fast, and he had disappeared into the hospital before he could even make a sound.

Merlin, he needed another cigarette.

He had waited until he was sure that Dumbledore had left the corridor before he stepped back out of the room he'd been offered, altogether too curious about the candlelight that came out from beneath the door across from him. He was quiet, hoping for some inkling of sound to signal who was inside, but he heard none. Remus took a breath, lifting his hand and knocking lightly on the door.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer, the door opening inwards, and a young woman poked her head around the corner. He knew her. Rosaline Davies. She'd announced her pregnancy at an Order meeting and had then seemingly disappeared. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing – but perhaps you'd better come in and sit down, Remus Lupin," her voice was still as soft as he remembered, and he listened, stepping in and allowing her to close the door behind him. The room was just like his, though hers was clearly more lived in. The desk was covered in pictures and half written letters, the bedspread seemed as though it was probably one of her own from home, alongside some kind of flannel blanket that he wouldn't have connected to her. He sat at the desk, his back to all of her writing while she took a seat on the bed. He couldn't tell while she was standing, but when she sat he could see the small beginning of her baby bump. "So? Tell me, why are you here?"

He wasn't entirely sure why he was forthcoming with her, letting her know that Sirius had asked him to move out while she tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "As it is now, this is only temporary, a few nights at most. I've been staying with the Potters, but I had information to pass on to Professor Dumbledore that couldn't wait."

She nodded, shifting back on the bed and drawing her legs up. She was a small girl, folding her legs beneath her she could have looked at place in a fourth year divination class, perched on a chintz pillow, were it not for her little bump. He didn't have to ask when she offered rather simply, "I'm here because of this-" she rested a hand on her stomach, rubbing a circle on it, "Not the fact that it happened, but because of who the father is. Dumbledore believes that it may make me a target if anyone were to know."

"Might I ask who?" He couldn't help but ask. He was sure that during his school days he would have been just as at home in Ravenclaw as he was in Gryffindor, inquisitive as he was.

She shook her head, laughing lightly and reaching up again to tuck the hair that fell forward as she looked down behind her ears, "You might ask, but I won't tell. He doesn't know himself yet, and he's found himself in quite a predicament through the war. Until the two of us have come up with a better plan than just hiding away until it's all over you can ask all of the questions you'd like, but regarding my baby, I'll have to refuse to answer." She was very polite, just as he'd always remembered her being at Order meetings, and the few times he'd interacted with her at school.

"I don't mean to be intrusive, Rosaline. I'm sorry." He really was. He hadn't meant to upset her, but still she was smiling and waving it off.

"It's no big deal. I understand what it is like to be lonely. It's why I asked what brought you here even though we're all entitled to our secrets."

He had to agree with her. Since the night that Adhara had arrived with the locket and Sirius had put it on, well he hadn't felt that lonely in years. Even being with James and Lily offered little comfort when they were so on edge as a result of Lily's illness. Really, this was the first polite conversation he was able to have where he didn't have to worry about just how much he was revealing, or exactly whom he was speaking to. If Dumbledore was going to the trouble of protecting her, her heart was definitely in the right place, and her wand on the right side.

"We could be friends, Remus. You're one of the only people who know I'm here, and at least as long as you stay here too, I wouldn't mind having someone to play chess with. As long as you don't mind me keeping secrets, I don't mind you keeping yours. We could forget about the war even for just the few days you'd plan to stay."

He found himself smiling, leaning forward on the chair towards her, "I think I'd like that."

The fireplace lit up, bright green as the floo network was activated, pulling both Sirius' and Walburga's attention from the notice of death they had been drafting up. Emotions were high in the room as it was, even before Bellatrix Lestrange crossed the hearth. She stormed across the room, not even taking in the fact that there were two people there, only curtly greeting Walburga with an, "Aunt," and a slight nod. Sirius followed behind her, though he kept a bit of distance, pacing behind her as she took the stairs quickly, all the way to the topmost landing.

He had no clue what she could possibly want in his or Regulus' bedrooms. They were the only two doors on that landing, and he cringed when he saw her blast open the door to Regulus' room. He drew his own wand, his grip on the locket tight. He wasn't completely stupid. She was a Death Eater and he was a member of the Order. This wasn't going to end well. He crept closer to the door, hearing her rifle through the room sent him over the edge, and he fired a stunner at her before making himself known, entering in a rage and pulling her up to her feet by the collar of her robes, "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but you can get the fuck out of this house. You are not welcome here, bringing such disrespect to the dead." He shoved her back, letting her collapse onto the bed as the stunning spell wore off and she summoned the strength to stand on her own.

Her own wand was back in her hand as soon as she could maintain her grip on it, and the two cousins kept their wands firmly trained on the other. Her gaze was harsh on Sirius, clearly judging him, believing him to be far beneath her. "Dead? How would you even know if he was dead? You're no member of this family. You could only know if you were the one that killed him-" A jet of red light flew from her wand, one that Sirius only barely dodged before firing back one of his own.

"I can assure you, cousin," he spat the last word with pure venom, "That I am more Black than you could ever hope to be." The words felt weird as they fell from his lips, and yet right at this moment, he truly meant them. She dodged his own spell, the red light hitting the post of Regulus' bed and splitting it. The canopy above it fell slightly down the corner, again, only serving to infuriate Sirius at the destruction of his things. This room was really all he had left of his brother. The room and the locket, and the room was being destroyed.

"You're nothing but a scorch on the tree, something to be forgotten and left to the mudbloods – How do you know that Regulus is dead?" She had demanded again, blue light leaving her wand this time. It was too quick for Sirius to dodge, and he felt himself flung up until he hit the ceiling, crashing back down to the floor. He fired an impedimenta at her from the ground, and then a biting jinx, but before he could finish the incantation his wand flew from his hand. He expected Bellatrix to take advantage of this, but as it turned out, she no longer had her wand either.

Walburga stood in the door to the room, all three of their wands clutched tightly in her fist, "That is enough from both of you. I expect you both to maintain some sense of decorum in this house – Bellatrix, do not arrive here unannounced, and do not attack my son. Sirius – I certainly expected more of you than to fight in this room. Look at what you've both done."

He listened, and a quick glance around the room left him disheartened. Newspaper articles that Regulus had had tacked to the wall were burning quietly where Bellatrix' spell had missed him, and he knew of the broken bed. Still there were the contents of his drawers strewn around them, the bedspread pulled from the mattress, and a broken broom lying on the floor.

"Ungrateful, disrespectful wretches," Walburga had nearly spat, disappointed in both of them. "I will finish the announcement myself. You can both leave. Now."

REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK

1961 – 1979

Beloved son, brother, nephew, cousin, grandson and fiance

Perished of unknown causes

Information regarding the nature of his death is greatly appreciated by the Noble and Ancient House of Black

Intelligent, Loyal, Strong, Pure

Slytherin House 1972 – 1979

Loved and Missed Dearly

Announcement of Services to follow

He woke to the sound of something tapping on the window, cracking an eye to dare and take a look. He didn't recognize it, but that meant very little. Anybody trying to send him an owl wouldn't use one that he could identify or he would just ignore it. He closed his eye again when he saw a figure cross to the window, open it, and take the letter from the bird. Whoever was coming to collect him had arrived.

It was a man, he could tell, someone tall and broad, though he couldn't tell much else from the split second that he'd seen him. He tried to regulate his breathing, keep it more akin to how it would have been were he still sleeping.

"You can stop pretending. I know you're awake – You snore." The voice came from the other side of his bed, and he had to force himself to turn his head the other way and open his eyes. It was dark in the room, and he still couldn't make out who this was, but the accent the man had was thick. He could tell that the man had opened the letter that had arrived and was reading it, but he still couldn't tell just who it was while his eyes were still adjusting. "I searched the room – Where is your wand? I'm not about to let you keep it."

Regulus swallowed, laying his head back on the pillow, "If you're going to kill me you might as well just go ahead and do it instead of dragging it out like this. I'm strapped to the bed, my wand is gone. I can't possibly fight back."

The man laughed, "Kill you? You're insane. You're much more valuable to me – to us – alive. Nobody even knows you're alive 'cept me... Do you know who I am?"

Regulus squinted, and shook his head.

"Figures. Your kind really only notice each other, don't you? Your brother though – he'd definitely know who I am."

Regulus closed his eyes again, shaking his head slightly, "Please, please, just kill me."

The other man laughed, stuffing the letter into his pocket as he stood up, "Look at little Reggie Black, begging a muggleborn to kill him. I already told you – you're much more useful alive. You know far too much to take your secrets to the grave. We're leaving here. Tonight. You'll be coming back with me until I can arrange for you to be moved to Order Headquarters."

Well that at least answered his question of whether or not it was a Death Eater or an Order member coming for him. At least he felt secure in the fact that should his own side come for him now it wasn't anyone that he would consider a friend that would be caught in the crossfire.

"If I were you I'd enjoy that medicine while you still can. I've not got any of this fancy stuff back at my house, and even if I had, I certainly wouldn't waste it on you."

Sorry for the wait guys. The last scene was giving me such trouble. Did not want to get out of my head and I'm still not happy with it. I've got most of the next chapter planned out, even if I've been a little bit busy lately. I promise I'll find the time to write it. - Jessica