A/N: My first Harry Potter fic! About Regulus Black's trip to the Black Lake. TW: torture in the form of a potion, mentions of child abuse, drowning/suffocation.

Please enjoy!

When the squeezing, suffocating feeling of apparation left him, Regulus opened his eyes on a small island surrounded on all by sides deep, penetrating darkness. In front of him on the rocks lay an unassuming stone basin resting atop a worn pedestal. The basin emitted an erie green light that floated around him in the cool air, though it did nothing to brighten the inky blackness all around.

Regulus stepped toward the basin, letting his hand fall out of Kreacher's shaking grip. The house elf remained rooted to the spot he had apparated too. Regulus knew he was not happy to be back in this place so soon. The story the elf had told him after he'd been called back from his errand with the Dark Lord was. . . chilling. If he had known what the Dark Lord had been planning to do he never would have offered to let him use Kreacher. Regulus shook his head. It was too late to undue that. But as he stared into the emerald potion filling the basin, he hopped that this would be enough to make up for the other mistakes he'd made.

"Kreacher." Regulus turned from the potion abruptly. He tried to speak calmly, but he could hear the quiver in his voice as he continued, meeting the elf's terrified eyes steadily. "I'm going to drink this potion. No- don't say anything," he said sharply as Kreacher made to protest. He knew that if he listened long enough, Kreacher would be able to convince him not to do this. "I'm going to drink this, and when I can't do it myself anymore, I want- I want you to feed it to me." There was a definite shake to his voice now, and Regulus tried hard to contain it. "Do you understand, Kreacher? You have to continue feeding me the potion until it's all gone."

"Y-yes, Master Regulus," Kreacher said. He looked absolutely petrified, as though accepting this order was the very last thing the elf wanted to do, and Regulus knew it probably was. Kreacher had always been his best friend when Sirius- no. He couldn't think about Sirius now. Even though he knew he was doing this for him. For his ridiculous, idiotic brother who turned out to have had the right idea from the start. Regulus had just been too afraid to listen to him.

"When the potion's gone, I want you to take the locket in there and replace it with this one." He pulled a small golden locket from the pocket of his robe with a shaking hand. Kreacher took the locket as thought afraid it would bite him, but raised no objections.

Regulus took a deep breath to steady himself. Everything was so much harder to say out loud, and it wasn't made any easier by the suffocating darkness closing in on him from all sides. "When you've done that, you need to go home and destroy the locket however you can."

"But what about Master Regulus?" Kreacher protested. "Kreacher will not leave Master Regulus-"

"You will," Regulus said firmly. "You'll leave me, a-and you'll destroy that locket. That's an order. Understand?"

"Kreacher understands," Kreacher whispered. The elf looked so heartbroken that Regulus couldn't stand to watch him anymore. He turned back to the basin and took another deep, calming breath that had absolutely no effect on his nerves.

He took his wand from the pocket of his robes and waved it, conjuring a silver goblet, which he caught, his hands shaking worse than ever. He dipped the goblet into the glowing potion and filled it to the brim. Regulus lifted the goblet in front of him and stared at it for a moment.

"To Sirius. I hope you'll forgive me for all this," he murmured. He lifted the goblet to his lips and drained it quickly. The liquid burned like fire down his throat. A buzzing in his ear drowned out Kreacher's worried shout. He lowered the goblet back into the basin with a single, jerky movement as the fire blazed in his stomach.

The second gobletful was worse than the first. It felt as though his throat was being burned raw by the potion that surely had to be poison. The third goblet was halfway to his mouth when Regulus gave a violent lurch and dropped the cup back into the potion. He gripped the sides of the basin with trembling fingers while vision drifted in and out of focus. The basin blurred and other images swam in front of his eyes.

He was ten years old again, listening to the shouting down in the hall. He peaked around the railing and saw his mother, the cane already in her hand. Sirius stood stiffly, eyeing the weapon with a trace of fear in his eyes. Regulus could only remember his brother being afraid once before, but as his mum screamed he felt his own confidence vanish with a pop like aparation. He stopped watching. Why did Sirius have to do this? Why couldn't he have been sorted into Slytherin? How was any of this fair?

"Master, you must take your potion. You told Kreacher to feed you your potion."

Regulus opened his mouth at Kreacher's command. He felt the cold stone of the rocky island on his back, but it did nothing to sooth the fire burning throughout his body. As Kreacher tipped the potion into Regulus's mouth, his throat burned again, though it hardly seemed as though the pain could get any worse.

He was eleven now, arguing with Sirius in an empty classroom.

"I just want to talk to you more!" he said, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, though he held them back. "We always used to talk before!"

"That was different," Sirius said. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the floor. "Gryffindors and Slytherins don't hang out at school. You know that."

"But you're my brother!" Regulus wanted to shout at Sirius until he understood. Brothers could talk to each other no matter what. That's what they were there for. Why couldn't Sirius see that?

Sirius didn't meet his eye. "I have to go," he said. "My friends are waiting for me."

"I'm your brother," Regulus sobbed.

"Master Regulus, drink your potion," Kreacher begged.

Regulus drank the potion obediently, but at once felt the burning intensify to the point where he wondered how he wasn't already dead.

"No more. . ." he moaned. "Please. . . stop. . ."

"Kreacher cannot stop," Kreacher sobbed nearby, "Not until the potion is all gone. Then he can stop and Master Regulus will b-be alright."

Regulus felt the elf tip one more gobletful of potion down his throat and screamed from the pain. It was never ending. . . worse than the curiatus curse. . . surely worse than death.

Sirius was rushing around his room, throwing things hastily into his trunk. As he turned to toss in another school book he caught sight of Regulus watching from the doorway.

"I'm not staying," he said venomously, turning away to look for anything else he'd need for wherever he was planning on going. "You can't make me."

Regulus knew that was true. He'd long since stopped have any influence in what Sirius did. Ever since they had stopped talking completely in Regulus's third year.

"Where are you planning on going?" Regulus said instead. His voice was angrier that he'd expected. Sirius also seemed taken aback, for he paused to stare a Regulus for a moment, a strange expression on his face.

"I don't know," he said a moment later. "But anywhere's better than here." He tossed a few more things into his trunk and said thoughtfully, the venom gone from his voice, "I might go to James's. His mum and dad are decent. They'll put up with me for a while, at least."

"You can't just leave. We're your family," Regulus said. But when had family ever mattered to Sirius? He might as well have said they were Death Eaters. It was all the same to Sirius. Regulus tried again, no longer angry, just desperate, "I'm your brother, Sirius. I'm worried about you!"

"I can make it on my own."

"You're not even of age yet!"

"I don't care!" Sirius shouted. He slammed the lid of his trunk closed and dragged it off the bed. He met his brother's eye with a cold detachment. "I'm leaving, Reg. Goodbye."

Regulus followed him to the door, begging him to stay, knowing it wouldn't do any good but sputtering out anything he could think of. By the time Sirius's hand was on the doorknob Regulus was shouting, furious that his brother could abandon him like this, furious at his parents for driving him away, furious at himself for not being to stop it all from happening. Sirius didn't even turn around as he walked out the door. The last time Regulus would see his brother. He never looked back.

"NOO!" Regulus screamed. He thrashed out wildly, tears blinding him and his stomach twisting in agony. He couldn't do this. He wanted it to end. Why wouldn't it just end already?

"Master! Master Regulus, d-drink this. It w-will make everything b-b-better. Kreacher p-promises. One more drink."

Regulus barely registered the elf's words, but his mouth opened and potion seared in his mouth once more. The pain blinded him. His vision went black and the fire inside of him froze over. A different pain flared into existence on his forearm.

He watched in terrified fascination as the wand placed to his arm burned the mark into his skin. The pain nearly caused him to shout, but he kept quiet. His family would be proud. He was doing what they wanted. What they expected of him, as the heir to the Black family name.

The Dark Lord lifted his wand and Regulus stared at the mark it had left. The snake, curling gracefully around the skull it was unwinding out of. He looked up into the pale white face before him, with scarlet eyes and snake-like pupils. He sank to his knees and kissed the Dark Lord's robes.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you."

"You will be great in the Dark Lord's service, Regulus," a woman's crooning voice came from behind him and Regulus rose to see Bellatrix smiling at him. His cousin's face was lit with a savage pleasure. "He will teach you to be powerful. Your parents will be proud of you, Regulus."

And wasn't that all he'd really ever wanted?

" 's not." Regulus spoke with difficulty, working hard to force his mouth into words. " 's not all I want. There's. . . more 'portant. . . things."

"Master Regulus?"

" 'm sorry. 'm so sorry."

"Master has nothing to be sorry for! Kreacher should never have told Master. Should never have brought Master here!"

"Make sure. . . tha' locket is. . . 'stroyed. . . Kreacher."

"Yes, Master. Kreacher will make sure."

"Go. I'll. . . be fine."

With a final sob and a faint pop that nevertheless sounded deafening in the silent cave, Kreacher was gone. The absence of the elf's sobbing pounded in Regulus's ears. He crawled to the edge of the island, the burning in the mouth growing worse with every inch.

" 'm sorry, Sirr'us. Sorry."

He reached into the blessedly cool water and lifted his cupped hands to his lips. The water had hardly touched his mouth when a clammy hand lashed out of the water and grabbed Regulus's wrist like iron. The hand dragged him down to the water, and more hands grabbed hold of him, tugging his arms and legs, dragging him down by the back of his robes until was sinking down and down, ever deeper into the black lake.

He held his breath for a few seconds, but then let the water rush in. The moment it did he felt his head clear. The effects of the potion vanished and he had the urge to fight the dozens of hands dragging him deeper, but the light was already fading. The water entered his lungs. He choked and gasped, trying to draw in air but only sucking in more water. The light above him faded to black and the hands released their iron grip.