For the Hogwarts Forum

Honeycomb (Snow White!au)

Word Count: 1376

"Magic mirror on the wall, who is the cleverest of them all?"

He's asked the question time and time again, always pleased to see his face reflected in response. It's been his reassurance for so long that he would rise through the ranks and one day lead.

But today, the image is different. His son's face appears in the mirror instead.

"Lord Bartemius," Regulus says, bowing his head. "What can I do for you today?"

The older man looks around, almost as though he's nervous. Regulus frowns. He's never seen such uncertainty in a man of Crouch's station. Hesitantly, the huntsman steps aside, allowing the nobleman to enter his home.

Once safely inside the cottage, Bartemius seems to relax. The fear fades from his eyes, and he looks calm and collected as he always is. "I require your services," he says simply.

"And what do you need me to slay?" Regulus asks. "A wild boar? A bear?"

"My son."

Regulus shivers, shaking his head. He is a hunter of animals, not a murderer. "Humans are not my prey," he says. "I cannot do this for you."

Bartemius plunges a hand into his pocket, and Regulus hears jingle of several coins. As expected, the older man pulls out a pouch, dumping the contents onto the table. Gold spills out, and Regulus licks his lips greedily. Gold has a way of making a man forget his honor, and this is enough to keep Regulus well off for years to come.

"I wish for you to kill my son," Bartemius says, pushing the gold towards the huntsman.

Acid burns his stomach as his honor wars with his desire. Hesitantly, almost grudgingly, Regulus places a hand over the coins, a silent acknowledgment that he will do what is asked of him.

"Bring me his heart so that I know the job was done."

He sits before his mirror, a wicked grin on his lips. His son still peers at him from the glass, but it won't be like this for long.

Bartemius leans back, waving a hand to erase the image from the mirror. Everything will fall into place soon enough.

"I'm not much of a hunter," Barty says.

Regulus snorts. The sentence is so unnecessary. One look at Barty, and anyone would know that he belongs in a library, hunched over thick, dusty volumes, not in the woods. The huntsman chooses not to dignify this with a response.

"Seems a bit strange that my father would want me to go on a hunting expedition," the young lord continues.

Really, he's too smart for his own good. Regulus doesn't know why Bartemius wants the young man dead. Clever as he is, Barty seems like a helpful asset.

Regulus leads him deeper into the forest. His heart races painfully in his chest, but he manages to ignore it. Gold is gold. Why should he care if this young nobleman lives or dies?

And yet his eyes continue to shift to the other man. He is handsome, yes, but Regulus has never met anyone so kind before. Barty follows him without complaint, trusting him so easily, a smile on his lips as though they're enjoying a calming stroll through the garden.

He shakes his head. He is a hunter. There are several innocent animals in the forest, and he doesn't hesitate to send an arrow through their hearts. Why should he start now?

Regulus glances over his shoulder. The trees are thick here, and they're far enough from the village that no one would hear any resulting struggle. Fingers wrapping around his dagger, he comes to a stop. "This looks like a good spot," he says.

"Really? I haven't even heard a bird," Barty notes.

Regulus resists the urge to roll his eyes. He turns, raising his dagger. The young nobleman's eyes widen, but he doesn't even lift a hand to defend himself.

Regulus tries to plunge the blade downward, but he can't do it. Barty looks so innocent now, so kind. Regulus can't stand the thought of hurting him. With a growl, he returns the dagger to its sheath. "You should go."

"And what's to stop me from telling my father-"

"Your father is the one who hired me," Regulus snaps. "Go! Get as far away from the village as you can."

Barty hesitates, eyes still wide. The news that his father wants him dead must be overwhelming. Regulus almost pities him. "Where do I go?"

"Anywhere but here," Regulus urges. "It isn't safe for you. He will kill you, Barty. You have to go."

Barty rests a hand on Regulus' shoulder. "You've spared my life. How can I repay you?"

"Stay alive."

He holds the heart in his hands, laughing triumphantly. His son is gone. The mirror will never show his face again.

"Who is the fairest in the land?" he asks, warmth rushing over him as his face appears in the glass.

Regulus holds the pouch of gold in his hands. Though his honor is intact, though he used the heart of a beast instead of the boy's, the sight of the payment makes him sick.

With a groan, he slings it across the room, not caring as gold rains over the floor.

"Kreacher!" he calls to his servant and companion. "Fetch me a drink. The strongest in the tavern."

"You are the cleverest here, it's true," the mirror tells him nearly a month later, "but beyond the mountains, your son grows cleverer than you."

Rage boils his blood as he sees his son's face again. The boy smiles, surrounded by seven others.

The huntsman betrayed him. Now, he must take matters into his own hands, including paying the traitor back in kind.

His fingers curl around a vial.

Regulus throws his cloak off, draping it on the chair. He rolls his eyes when he finds his servant asleep at the table, a bottle of wine tipped over next to him.

"Kreacher, you scoundrel," he says fondly. "I return from a hunt expecting to find a warm meal, and instead you're drunk."

The boy doesn't stir. Regulus frowns, moving closer. He shakes his servant, drawing back when Kreacher falls to the floor, his eyes rolled milk and a hint of foam at the corners of his lips. Poison.

He lifts the bottle of wine, revealing a note beneath it.

A token of my appreciation for what you did for my son.

Regulus swears loudly. Bartemius knows of his betrayal. It should have been Regulus to drink the poisoned wine.

He leans down, pushing Kreacher's eyelids down to close his eyes. "I'm sorry, old friend," he whispers.

He lifts the boy into his arms. Though time is not on his side, it seems wrong not to give his servant a proper burial.

The disguise feels strange, but his son falls for it easily enough. So much for cleverest of them all.

He watches, satisfied when a single bite from the apple sends the boy falling to the ground in a pitiful pile.

He finds the settlement too late. Seven figures crowd the coffin, and Regulus feels his heart break. He shouldn't blame himself, he knows, and yet he does.

Regulus jumps from his horse and approaches the coffin, his heart wrenching his chest. Even in death, Barty looks as handsome as he did that day in the woods. Perhaps Regulus should have run with him. He could have kept him safe.

The huntsman shakes his head. Why should this matter to him? He didn't even know Barty.

But as he touches a hand to the noble's cold hands, he knows the answer. He doesn't mourn the boy he never knew; he weeps for the life the could have had together if he'd acted on his instincts, if he'd told the young man how handsome he found him.

He's dead now. There's nothing that can bring him back.

But there's a way to make it right.

It's over. He settles in his chair before the mirror, pleased to know his son's face will never appear in the glass again.

Bartemius lifts his glass to his lips but quickly drops it when he hears the footsteps. "You? You're supposed to be dead!"

Without a word, the huntsman steps closer, his dagger raised.