For my darling birdies who have inspired this fic. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

Word Count: 2554

In the back of his mind, Regulus knows that what he sees is all in his head. He vaguely remembers drinking the potion while Kreacher watched on in horror. The things he sees now are part of the potion…

But this changes nothing. Regulus came into this blasted knowing what the potion does. He thought he was prepared; now, as pain seeps beneath his skin and finds home in the marrow of his bones, he realizes he was not prepared at all. Not by a long shot.

"Master Regulus must drink more," Kreacher says, but he sounds so far away.

Regulus drops to his knees, crying out in agony.

All Regulus can see is his brother's face. Sirius stands before him, sneering at him. Regulus knows how pathetic he must look. He wishes Sirius would go away and let him suffer in peace.

"This is why no one loves you, Reggie," his brother taunts. "Why do you think I ran away? Mother? No, little brother. I ran because I couldn't stand the sight of you."

Tears burn Regulus' eyes as they fall down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry."

A small hand rests on his shoulder. The house-elf's fingers curl, gripping him with surprising strength. Regulus can't really see him, but he remembers why they're in the cave, and he knows that it must be Kreacher.

Poor Kreacher. He is taking such good care of Regulus through this all. When Kreacher came here with the Dark Lord, he was left alone to suffer and die. He could have left Regulus to it, but he has stayed faithfully by his side.

"Drink, Master Regulus," Kreacher insists, lifting the shell to Regulus' lips.

It hurts. Regulus wants to spit it out, but that isn't an option. He has to do this he has to see this through.

Fire seems to flood every inch of his body. Regulus thrashes about, screaming. He wants the pain to stop, but he isn't sure it ever will.

"Look at you," Sirius laughs, kneeling beside him. "You're such a coward. You want it to end? You know what to do."

Does he? Regulus thinks that he might. Pain clouds his mind, but, beneath the haze, he can recall the lake. Water. His mouth is so dry, and he imagines the water must be so cold. Surely it would be enough to drive away the heat that has seared his body.

He begins to crawl. The rocks cut his palms, and the sand stings the freshly opened wounds, but the pain doesn't compare to what is going on in his head. He pushes himself forward.

"Master Regulus mustn't do that!" Kreacher cautions.

But Regulus won't hear a word against his plan. He reaches the edge of the lake and dips his hands into the water, washing away the dirt and small rocks that have embedded themselves in his skin. Satisfied that they're clean, he cups them and lifts them to his lips.

Beneath the surface, he notices movement. Something is wrong, something he should remember but can't.

He shakes his head. It's just a fish. Nothing more. Nothing that shouldn't be there. Nothing dangerous.

His thoughts lull him into a sense of security, and he drinks from his hands, savoring the cool, crisp water on his parched tongue.

"Master Regulus…"

He doesn't have time for Kreacher. The water is so hypnotic. Regulus reaches down. He doesn't want to just drink it. He wants to walk into it, let it wash over him.

As if in answer to his thoughts, a pale, slick hand emerges without warning, wrapping its rotted fingers around his wrist. The haze fades in an instant as he becomes all too aware of the sudden danger. The grip is too strong, abnormally so.

Inferi, he recalls, much too late as a second hand reaches out and grabs his elbow. He can feel bruises forming on his skin in seconds. It's too late for him. A third hand grabs him. He is as good as dead.

But Kreacher…

"Kreacher," he croaks, his voice raspy and breaking. He struggles to catch his breath as the combined strength of the Inferi overpower him and slowly drags him. "Kreacher, I command you to take the locket and leave. I order you to never speak of this again to anyone, not even my mother."

He doesn't have a chance to hear his faithful servant's confirmation. Regulus barely has time to take one last desperate breath and full his lungs before he's forced into the lake. Grotesque figures surround him, reaching for him. One tangles its fingers in his dark hair.

Regulus screams, but down here in the dark depths of the lake, surrounded by Inferi who hope to force him to be part of their army, no sound comes out. Bubbles burst from his mouth, rushing to the surface.

He wishes he could be brave, but he is not a Gryffindor. Like so many Blacks before him, he is a Slytherin, and his desire for self-preservation kicks in. Even as his chest burns from lack of oxygen, and his body is weak, he fights as best he can.

It is no use. There are too many Inferi, and they have him surrounded. His vision begins to blur; around the edges, there is only black, and it is slowly overtaking him.

He's going to die down here, and no one will ever know. His brother will think he is an idiot who got cold feet and was murdered; Regulus doubts Sirius will shed a single tear for him. The Death Eaters will call him a traitor and assume he's gone in hiding.

Somehow, he's okay with that. He is not a hero, and he doesn't deserve to be remembered as one.

As the darkness closes in around him and his body falls slack, he feels a change in energy. Is this what it feels like to die?

No.

This isn't death. He doesn't know what it is and doesn't get a chance to really process it. Something lifts him, but it is too much. The world fades to black.

…

"Master Regulus must wake up. Please, Master Regulus. Kreacher needs you."

Kreacher? But how can Kreacher be here?

Regulus groans. His chest ache as he inhales. His lungs work, and he is not surrounded by water and certain death.

Regulus bolts upright, crying out at the pain that shoots through his body at the movement. Kreacher holds up a gnarled finger and makes a shushing sound.

Regulus shakes his head. How can he be quiet when he most certainly should not be alive? His body is still weak, and there are still bruises littering his pale arms. Finger-shaped marks of purples and greys marble with blues and yellows, serving as a physical reminder that it hadn't all been some awful dream.

He swallows dryly before looking at Kreacher. For several moments, all he can do is open and close his mouth wordlessly, uncertain of what to say. A million ideas flood his mind, but none of them seem to fit.

Why didn't you leave me?

I gave you an order.

I was so scared. I didn't want to die.

Thank you for saving me.

What am I supposed to do now?

Do you think I'm a coward.

He falls back on the bed, sinking into the pillows. All he wants to do is lie here. It would be much more peaceful if he could.

But there's work to be done. He never intended to leave the cave alive, if he's honest. Maybe he had hoped against hope that he would find a way, but that was a long shot. Now that he's here and safe, he cannot just sit idly by.

It's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord notices his absence. Will he think to check the cave? Will he somehow know about Regulus' betrayal?

All he knows is that he can't go back. Even if he could lie and pretend none of this ever happened, it wouldn't matter. The Dark Lord knows how to invade the mind and see the things that are hidden so safely away in the deepest recesses. He will know, and Regulus will be doomed.

"The locket," he says, wincing. His throat is raw and tender. "Did you hide it?"

"Of course. Master Regulus has commanded it. Kreacher must obey."

Regulus raises a brow. "I also commanded you to leave me," he says.

It should be a terrible sign. House-elves are meant to be subservient and follow any and every order without even a second of hesitation. For Kreacher to defy him like that, even if it meant saving his life…

But Regulus is grateful, of course. It has changed his plans and left him back on square one, but only a fool would be angry for a second chance at life.

"Kreacher will punish himself for that."

Regulus shakes his head. "No. No need for that," he assures him before climbing to his feet.

He is still so weak and shaky. Just standing up seems to take every ounce of energy he can muster. He will need a potion later. For now, his mind is racing, formulating a plan. Regulus can barely keep up with the barrage of thoughts that flit around inside his head.

"Master Regulus should be resting," Kreacher says, moving closer and reaching out as though he can catch Regulus if he falls.

"I'm fine," Regulus assures him, but he doesn't feel fine at all.

He nearly died. By all accounts, he should still be beneath the lake, dead and gone. That soft of realization is so damn heavy, and it seems to knock the breath out of him.

He wobbles as he walks, but he manages to stay upright. "I need to go out," he says, plucking a self-inking quill from the pile on his desk and tearing a piece of parchment. "If Mother asks where I am… tell her you haven't seen me."

Kreacher makes a face. He hates lying to Regulus' mother. Unfortunately, if she knew the truth, Regulus might also be removed from the tapestry.

He scribbles a quick note before opening his owl's cage. Not wanting Kreacher to overhear, he whispers the destination to his trusted bird before setting her loose.

He only hopes this will work.

…

Regulus walks through the park, plucking a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips before lighting it. Maybe it isn't the best thing to do; his lungs still ache from his earlier struggle, but the nicotine soothes his nerves.

"I see you still haven't found a better habit."

Regulus turns, his heart leaping in his chest when he sees Sirius standing there. His excitement doesn't last long. There is no joy in his brother's grey eyes. Sirius lifts his wand defensively. In the shadows, movement catches his attention. Regulus supposes he shouldn't be surprised that Sirius didn't come along.

"I'm unarmed," Regulus says. "I just… I want to talk."

"Talk?" Sirius snorts as he takes a step toward Regulus, his wand still aimed at the younger wizard. "I think the time for talking is over, don't you? You made your choice."

"And it was the wrong choice."

That seems to catch Sirius off guard. He stops, lips twisting into a frown. His eyes narrow as he studies Regulus, seemingly searching for any hint of deception.

"I'm disillusioned," Regulus says, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he ashes the cigarette. "I made a terrible mistake." He doesn't want to go into detail, not while knowing Sirius' little gang has him surrounded. "Please… I need to talk to you without them."

"I don't trust him, Padfoot," one of the others calls. "Seems like a trap."

Regulus scowls. "Sirius, please. I'm asking as your brother."

He wonders if he still has that right. After Sirius was Sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus was forced to keep his distance. Even at school and away from his mother's watchful eye, he had been too scared to even try to reconnect with his older brother.

But that doesn't mean he never stopped loving Sirius. It doesn't make them any less brothers.

If he could, Regulus would go back and change things. He would stand up to his mother and love Sirius openly and without shame. He wouldn't just stand there as his mother blasted Sirius from the tapestry.

But he cannot change the past. All he can do is make the most with what he's been given. Now he knows how easily life can be taken from him. He will not take it for granted again. When it's all said and done, he will make sure he is on the right side.

Sirius must see the sincerity in his eyes. He glances over his shoulder at his friends. "You lot wait here," he instructs. "I'll be okay."

With that, he moves closer, tucking his wand away. Regulus nods his appreciation before taking one last drag from his cigarette.

"This had better be worth it," Sirius says.

Regulus smiles. "I think you'll find that it definitely is," he assures him. "Shall we walk?"

Sirius nods and leads the way. Regulus resists the urge to smile. Sirius has always been a natural leader, and he's so charismatic that it's easy to follow him without question. Maybe that isn't a good thing. After all, it's how the Dark Lord gained so many followers pledging their allegiance through blind faith.

Regulus shakes his head. His brother is nothing like that monster.

"Are you gonna talk, or should I turn back around?" Sirius asks impatiently.

Regulus lights another cigarette. He needs the calm that nicotine brings. As they walk, slowly making their way around the park, he tells him everything.

Kreacher's tale, the locket, the potion—though he refuses to mention the nightmarish distortion of his brother that the potion made him see—the Inferi. He doesn't know what it all means. All he knows is that the Dark Lord is going through a lot of trouble to protect a piece of jewelry. He can only assume that it's important.

As Regulus talks, Sirius' expression grows more and more worried. Regulus doubts his brother understands it, but he looks just as troubled as Regulus feels.

"We have to get you to Dumbledore," Sirius decides.

Regulus figured as much. He may not know all the answers, but this seems pretty big.

"Will he be able to protect me?" Regulus asks.

Sirius doesn't have to answer. His silence says it all. Regulus has betrayed the most powerful dark wizard of all time. There's no guarantee that anything can keep him safe.

"Well?" James Potter steps out of the shadows, adjusting his glasses. "Do we have a hostage? I've always wanted to take a Death Eater hostage."

"Really, James," Remus says with a chuckle as he comes out as well, Peter Pettigrew right on his heels.

James shrugs. "Valid question, I'd say."

For once, Sirius doesn't laugh and tease with his friends. Regulus can't remember ever seeing brother look so serious. "We need to speak to Dumbledore," Sirius says, resting a gentle, reassuring hand on Regulus' shoulder. "It can't wait."

Regulus swallows dryly. He isn't sure exactly what he's doing and getting himself into. He only hopes that he's making the right choice.