"Living in Sin" 5/5 (Lucius/Regulus, Rated NC-17)
Title: "Living in Sin"
Author: Skellywag
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lucius/Regulus
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alternate timeline. Regulus's life is not progressing as he had expected, and an arranged marriage to Lucius Malfoy is only the beginning.
Warnings: Unapologetically long, underage? sex (Regulus is 16 to Lucius's 23), dubcon, creative use of made-up magic, public sex, mPreg, bloodplay-after a fashion, gore, torture, violence directed towards both children and adults.
A/N: Written for hp-yule-balls. First and foremost, my everlasting gratitude to my lovely beta fitz-y, who has been a wealth of support, advice, and cheerleading. This wouldn’t be half the fic it is without her, and I don't mean in terms of word count. Also a big thank-you to jaylee-g for the info about pregnancy, who helped me (I hope) make this a much more realistic mPreg than it would otherwise be. All remaining mistakes are mine alone. Thanks also to the wonderful mods at hp-yule-balls and their patience; this monster took a little longer than I'd expected to get written, and I hope it's worth the extra time it took me.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
The month after the babies were born, Regulus didn't think he got eight hours of sleep, cumulatively. The boys wouldn't sleep at all if they weren't together, in a single bassinet, but that also meant, if one of them woke up hungry or needing a diaper changed, they were both up and raising hell. That first siren wail could rouse Regulus from halfway across the manor, and it always made his heart clench until he found out what was wrong. Lucius didn't sleep much, either, even though whenever it was his turn to change a diaper, a house elf did it for him.
Worse still were the summons they received from the dark lord. It wasn't as if the house elves couldn't be trusted-their magic functioned on obedience above all, and Kreacher in particular was as loyal a house elf as they came. But that knowledge couldn't stop Regulus worrying. About the children, yes, but also about Lucius, who could not afford distraction when he had to perform for both of them. The man was more vicious in any task the dark lord gave him, and while Lord Voldemort was infinitely pleased with everything Lucius did for him, it bothered Regulus to watch the lengths his husband went to in order to keep them safe. People tortured, people killed, and gruesomely. Regulus wasn't sure he saw Lucius ever use the killing curse when he could think of something that would result in a painful death for his victim. And even worse was when he placed a muggle under the imperius curse and then ordered his target to kill others-usually with bare hands or, at most, a knife. It was something like relief to return to Hogwarts, where he wouldn't be touched by the dark lord's summons, at least for a while.
It was only like relief, however. Going back to Hogwarts for fall term was actually the hardest thing Regulus had ever done.
It didn't matter that Lucius was able to bring the boys to the castle on weekends-being on the Board of Governors had some perks. Despite the fact that Dumbledore was not exactly thrilled, he couldn't refuse them without cause, and they were careful not to give him any. Weekends were not enough to satisfy Regulus's need for his sons. He found it difficult to sleep during term without the boys in the room, ready to potentially wake him up the instant he drifted off. He worried for them, though he knew Lucius would do everything he could to keep them safe.
Insomnia was Regulus's late-night companion, but he didn't take it lying down. He started jogging, partly to wear himself out to the point he could pass out from exhaustion, and partly to get off his baby weight for quidditch. Professor Slughorn gave him special permission to be out after curfew, but Regulus restricted his late-night jogs to the dungeon corridors, which Slughorn himself was supposed to patrol-even being one of the man's favourites could only go so far, and Regulus would never have been allowed to wander the school grounds outside at night.
By the time the winter holidays rolled around, Regulus was fairly starved for his boys, and there were other cravings, too. He and Lucius hadn't had sex since before the twins were born. Amidst all those sleepless nights, sex hadn't been a primary concern, especially since it hadn't been a possibility during any of Lucius's weekend visits.
Now he'd been home for three days, but in between caring for the children-who, at six months old, were beginning to sleep through most of the night, but were also more interactive during the day-and preparing for Christmas, Regulus hadn't found any time alone with Lucius that didn't also involve passing out from exhaustion for some of the best sleep he'd had in months. Of course, being well-rested only made Regulus want it worse, and the fact that Lucius was so good with their boys was a massive turn-on.
Regulus and Lucius sat in rocking chairs in the boys' new nursery-complete with two cribs, though they still insisted on sharing one. Corvus had been asleep in his arms for half an hour now, and Regulus was watching his husband rock Draco, by far the fussier of the twins. He hadn't noticed it before, but it was nearly always Draco that would start crying first, rousing his brother, who would then proceed to wail even more loudly than Draco could.
"I think he's finally asleep," Lucius murmured softly, lifting his eyes to Regulus's.
"Then let's put them to bed," Regulus replied. He was sure his intentions were easy to read from his expression, but just in case, he added, "I expect we can allow Dobby and Kreacher to tend to them if they wake up in the middle of the night?"
Lucius grinned at him, and rose to his feet gingerly, as if he were carrying something much more volatile and dangerous than a sleeping baby. There was something of a system to putting the boys into bed, and it involved putting Corvus down first, because he was slower to wake and less likely to start screaming if he did. Only then could Draco be put in the crib beside his brother, where they would instantly curl up together and share the space.
It was really sweet, almost ridiculously so, in fact. Regulus stood there beside the crib, watching his little boys sleep, and nearly forgot all about sex. Right up until he felt the front of Lucius's body press firmly to his back, arms wrapping around his almost-back-to-normal waistline. It sent shivers through him from what seemed like every point of contact between their bodies, and he leaned back heavily against Lucius, because he could.
Lucius mouthed lightly along the side of Regulus's throat, nipping at the sensitive skin. "It's been too long," he murmured in a low, dark voice. "They aren't going anywhere; you can come back later and watch them sleep, if that's what you want to do."
"So then you don't intend to keep me occupied for the entire night?" Regulus huffed a sigh, squirmed a little to shift his body against Lucius's hips. "How very…disappointing."
Lucius's resultant groan was almost enough to muffle the crack of displacement behind them. Lucius either hadn't noticed or didn't care, his hands drifting, cupping Regulus through his robes, but Regulus didn't want an audience, even if it was only a house elf. Their marriage had cured him of any propensity for exhibitionism he might ever have developed.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a house elf. Regulus turned himself and Lucius so that he could give the wayward servant a piece of his mind, and instead found himself glaring at Lord Voldemort-he rectified his expression very quickly indeed. "My lord," Regulus gasped, jabbing his elbow hard into the ribcage behind his own, and Lucius pulled away enough to allow them both to turn fully and face the dark lord. "Apologies, we weren't expecting you."
"Clearly." The man sounded amused, but his face didn't show it. If it was possible, Voldemort looked even paler than he had the last time Regulus had seen him, and the boy tried to convince himself that it was only by comparison to his ghastly complexion that his eyes were so red-both the irises and what would have been white. His cheekbones and chin were sharper, but his face seemed almost flatter, though Regulus couldn't tell precisely what was wrong with the proportions. How could anyone change in appearance so much in only a few months? Lord Voldemort wasn't even ill, which was the only justification for such a change that Regulus could come up with. The dark lord seemed as vital as ever, despite his pallor.
Voldemort crossed the room to look into the crib, his narrow, bony fingers closing around the top bar. Regulus tensed, turning enough to watch him, an angry litany of expletives chasing each other through his head-mostly directed at Lucius, even though it had not been his husband's idea to change the manor's wards to permit the dark lord to apparate inside, and at least he was forced to appear in whatever room Lucius occupied. But Voldemort didn't attempt to touch the boys, and Lucius had wrapped an arm around Regulus to restrain him without looking like he was.
Lord Voldemort was staring at his babies too long. Regulus couldn't tell what it meant, but it was difficult to focus his anger and distrust on Greyback when this threat, indirect as it was, was much more immediate. "A word, Regulus?" the dark lord murmured, just as Regulus was preparing to ask the purpose of his visit. "Perhaps in the study? We wouldn't want to wake the children." The words sounded so sardonic in Voldemort's sibilant rasp; Regulus was grateful he could barely move against Lucius's side because his first response, hearing anyone speak about his children in that tone, would have been reflexive and utterly unwise.
"Of course, my lord," Regulus managed to reply after a false start, and Lucius was reluctant to release him, though he was almost certain it had less to do with worry for Regulus himself than it did with worry for what he might say or do. Regulus brushed down his robes and stepped to the door. "After you?"
Voldemort stepped away from the crib, and Lucius moved to follow, but the dark lord glanced back and stopped him with a look. "You may remain here with your sons, Lucius. I do not require anything from you tonight."
And Regulus, who somehow knew exactly what he was looking at, watched his husband freeze, expression gone ice-cold and betraying nothing. "As you wish, my lord," Lucius replied, smoothly enough, but Regulus was not at all reassured. Lucius was worried, and Regulus hoped Lord Voldemort hadn't noticed or he might begin to wonder what Lucius could possibly be worried about.
Regulus conducted their way down to the first-floor study in silence-he was trying to compose himself, the racing of his heart, and Lord Voldemort was not one for small talk even if he could have come up with something to say. "Tea, my lord?" he asked once they reached the study, and he closed the door behind them in a show of confidence he didn't feel.
"No." Voldemort didn't sit down and so neither did Regulus, who stood knotting and twisting his fingers at the small of his back, out of sight. "I am not here for a social visit." The dark lord began to pace slowly back and forth in front of the cold fireplace, and Regulus had to curb the impulse to ask why he had come-he would get to it in his own time.
"You have proven very useful to me, in your position at Hogwarts," Voldemort began, and even such an auspicious start to the conversation could not soothe Regulus's nerves. "The information you've been relaying through Lucius has allowed me to track Dumbledore's movements, especially in coordination with Lucius's reports from his meetings with the Board of Governors and intelligence gathered from the Ministry. It is very important to our cause that Dumbledore be neutralized, and you've been a valuable asset to those plans. I cannot yet move on the school, but once I can, it will be convenient to plan the offense around Dumbledore's schedule."
It sounded like a whole lot of posturing to Regulus. From what he had seen and heard, which admittedly was not very much, the dark lord could not stand against Dumbledore. Not yet. Maybe an army of werewolves would help, maybe that was the point, though they'd be a group comprised primarily of muggles and thus useless most of the month. At any rate, this wasn't the reprimand he'd been expecting: apparently Lord Voldemort had not noticed the misinformation Regulus had included in his reports-Dumbledore's movements probably appeared even more erratic than they actually were.
Regulus was closer to real relief, now. But still, Lord Voldemort would not have come only to tell him what a good job he was doing. "Thank you, my lord. I only wish I could do more." True, though not in the way Voldemort would expect. It was easier to tell lies of intent and make them sound sincere; there was nothing to rouse the dark lord's suspicions.
"In a few months, you will have that opportunity. I look forward to seeing what you truly are capable of." Voldemort's voice was soft and insidious and even in spite of what Regulus had learned about him and the way he operated, there was still some small part of Regulus who wanted to please him-or maybe, more generally, wanted to please someone. "Ah, but you've brought me to my point, because there is something you can do for me. And, because I am feeling generous, I am also going to reward you for your performance at Hogwarts." The dark lord's voice was rife with irony, and Regulus smiled only because he was expected to do so.
"Your left arm," Voldemort instructed, holding out a hand for it. As Regulus complied, he wondered if this would be the task the man had in mind, or the reward. Voldemort's thin fingers brushed up the length of Regulus's arm as he pushed up the sleeve to reveal the mark on the boy's forearm. They felt cold and the skin was so dry it bordered desiccated; all the little hairs on Regulus's arm stood up, but if Voldemort noticed, he didn't comment. Or maybe Regulus didn't hear it, because Voldemort pressed a fingertip to the skull imprinted in his flesh, and Regulus was dropped to his knees before he registered what had happened.
Every nerve south of his elbow lit up with a flare of white-hot pain; it was sudden and mind-numbing and Regulus screamed until his throat went raw with it, until he managed to set his teeth on edge and bring his volume down to an agonized groan. Because still it surged and pulsed for an eternity or what felt like one. He quivered with the pain, convulsed even once it ebbed. He didn't think he could move any of his left fingers. Pressing his nose into the carpet, Regulus shuddered and sobbed for a full breath that wouldn't come, and contemplated in minute detail the steps involved in standing up.
"You were exempted from nearly two dozen summons," Lord Voldemort remarked from somewhere above him; Regulus could only see a pair of shoes. "You are indeed fortunate I chose to get the backlash out of the way now. You might have frightened your children with a display like that."
"Yes, my lord," Regulus agreed, mumbling it to the floor. Even rewards from Lord Voldemort felt like punishments. He wondered if Sirius would have appreciated the irony, would have asked him what he'd expected, wearing a sarcastic grin. Regulus tried to fist his left hand, but his fingers gave no more than an epileptic twitch. No, he didn't think his brother would be remotely amused.
"Now, you will do something for me. Don't worry," the dark lord chuckled, and Regulus gritted his teeth at the sound, "you need not get up. It is a simple task. I merely require the use of a house elf."
It shamed Regulus to call for a servant in such a state, but his arm still hurt, so badly he thought he might throw up, and he was frightened by the way it felt like so much dead weight when he tried to move it. Kreacher was such a good elf, though. He made no comment on his master's appearance after answering his summon. "What can Kreacher be doing for Master Regulus?"
Regulus drew in a deep breath, used his right hand to awkwardly push himself into a sitting position. He stared into Kreacher's face and pretended the elf's luminous eyes weren't any more watery-looking than usual. "You are to go with Lord Voldemort and obey his every command." He didn't like this, not one bit. Why did the dark lord want an elf and not a person? Wizards could do a wider variety of things with their magic; house elves were more-what, obedient? The imperius curse could make a wizard compliant. Elves…were disposable. Regulus's gut clenched. Kreacher might have been just a house elf, but he was a very good elf. The Malfoy elves weren't worth even Kreacher's excessive ear hair.
Voldemort was satisfied, apparently. He snapped his thin, dry fingers and, without a word, apparated. Kreacher had been ordered to follow, so when he apparated he would appear at whatever location the dark lord had just gone to. And in the few seconds before Kreacher diappeared, Regulus stammered out, all in a rush, "You will come home once you've done what he wants." And Kreacher beamed at him before disappearing.
Regulus was still sitting on the floor, working on his fingers, when Lucius came and found him. There were no questions. Lucius only helped him to his feet and led their way back upstairs, but Regulus told him everything anyway-he didn't think secrecy had been the dark lord's purpose in separating them, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have cared. He didn't finish until they were standing in their bedroom, and Regulus had managed to close his fingers, loosely-it didn't seem like there would be any permanent nerve damage, at least.
Without preamble, Lucius began unbuttoning Regulus's robes. "Let us clarify this," he murmured in clipped, efficient tones. "For months now, you have been allowing me to lie to the dark lord. Without informing me."
Regulus shrugged out of the robes when Lucius finished, unstrapped his wand and its sheath from his left arm and set it on the bedside table. "My information wasn't all lies," he argued. "And it was a sort of spur of the moment thing, the first time." He hated that it sounded like he was making excuses when he had no intent of changing his behaviour. He skinned out of his pants and then crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Lucius expectantly. "Are you angry?"
The question tore Lucius's eyes from whatever part of Regulus they'd been staring at; they flicked up to his face. "Yes," he replied, but as if he hadn't made up his mind before that moment. "You should know better than to take risks if you are uncertain of the gain. The misinformation may not even affect his plans that much, but still he would punish you for it mercilessly if he found out."
Regulus sighed. "I know all that. But I had to do something. Fuck, Lucius. I couldn't even stand to have him in the same room as our sons. I don't want to help him if it could end up hurting Draco and Corvus later on."
Lucius shook his head, giving Regulus an indulgent smile. He stepped close and wrapped his arms around Regulus, smoothed his fingers down the boy's bare spine. "You are brave on the scale of a Gryffindor," he murmured, and Regulus was so certain he heard affection in his husband's voice that he couldn't even be insulted. Regulus licked his lower lip, tilted his face up to Lucius's, and Lucius took the cue and kissed him. Hungry, possessive, and yes, a little angry, too, Lucius kissed him until he was breathless and light-headed, weak in the knees. And then kept kissing him until Regulus had gone hard and needy, precome staining the front of Lucius's robes where he'd pressed his body to them.
There was no space between them, and yet Regulus's fingers squirmed into the non-space anyway, fumbling at Lucius's buttons and then popping off the last few when he got frustrated and yanked too hard. It was a struggle to force Lucius to release him long enough to get the robes off; the man's hands were everywhere, brushing the sides of his throat, down his shoulders, arms, hips, teasing his crack to make him buck and gasp. Lucius was still wearing a shirt and trousers, and for the sake of expediency, the shirt was ignored. Getting his husband naked from the waist down took Regulus only seconds.
Lucius stepped out of his trousers and pants and then kept walking, guiding Regulus backward until his back thumped softly against the wall, and then a second time, harder, as he was pinned there. They were right beside the bed, and yet it was too far to consider and Lucius only shifted enough to retrieve a bottle of lubricant from the bedside table. Regulus mouthed along Lucius's throat, biting hard enough to bruise. He tore at the buttons of his husband's shirt, and when they held he slipped his hands up under the hem to dig his nails into Lucius's shoulders, support as he hiked a thigh up the man's hip.
Oil spilled down Regulus's shoulder as Lucius hastily wet his fingers without bothering to pull away so he'd have room to do it. More of it smeared on his thigh as Lucius grasped his leg and lifted it higher. Lucius pressed their bodies tighter, palmed the side of Regulus's arse, and began working two fingers into him.
They had not been together for something like seven months, and though, in that time, Regulus might have finger-fucked himself once or twice during a wank session, those instances were nothing compared to this. He set his teeth to the collar of Lucius's shirt, groaned as he yanked on it. His hips jerked faintly with the shallow thrusts of Lucius's fingers, trying to drive them deeper though Lucius couldn't quite reach enough to get them in past the middle knuckle.
"Lucius," he snarled into his husband's shirt, and the name was an oath. "Fuck me already." The fingers were abruptly taken away and then Regulus was slammed into the wall, hard, scraped up onto his toes as Lucius drove up into him. He was still very tight, and Lucius groaned more loudly than Regulus did, with that first deep thrust.
Regulus clung to Lucius's shoulders under his shirt, dug his heel into the small of the man's back for balance as Lucius fucked him without pause, without waiting for the muscles to fully stretch. He loved it. His back skidded up the wall with each thrust, and the slight pain of it-nothing compared to what Voldemort had done-played counterpoint to the pleasure, the slide and the friction, intensifying every sensation. Lucius panted into his hair, into his ear, into his neck. It might have been kisses, and it might have been words, and Regulus couldn't tell the difference. He slicked a hand down Lucius's sweaty back, dug his nails into his husband's arse to urge him faster.
The man was ferocious, and Regulus didn't want it to end. Every sound Lucius made, his every movement. The anger was tangible, and Regulus almost regretted his lies. The lust was undeniable, and there was certainly nothing to regret there. But there was something else in Lucius, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Regulus tried to focus, tried to reach it as he rode the force of Lucius's body and rubbed his cock against his husband's expensive shirt.
Lucius kissed Regulus when he came, grunted into his mouth and sucked on his tongue. And in the few heartbeats of time before Lucius wrapped his fingers around Regulus's length and stroked him to incoherence, it occurred to him that maybe Lucius had needed this even more than he had. He moaned his release into Lucius's lips, panting thickly through his nose because he didn't want to break contact until Lucius made him. Which apparently would not happen for a while longer, as Lucius tugged him away from the wall and tumbled them into bed.
Regulus woke in the dark, unsure what had roused him. He and Lucius were all tangled up, which was new-they shared a bed, but Regulus was practically on top of Lucius and normally he was careful not to invade his husband's space to this degree. But Lucius's breathing was deep and even, and Regulus was too comfortable to have woken because of their positions.
He nearly cracked his forehead into Lucius's chin when a raspy garbled voice spoke from behind him, just at the edge of his side of the bed. Lucius groaned and shoved at him in annoyance, but Regulus had already sat up, turned away to stare blindly in the direction of the voice. "Who's there?" he hissed, anticipating the worst.
A soft, rattling cough, and the voice tried again, this time intelligible. "It is Kreacher, Master Regulus. I is coming home like Master Regulus commanded." And Kreacher may have been the oldest house elf Regulus had ever seen, but it was still quite strange to hear his every word come out sounding so dry and broken. Something was most definitely wrong, and Regulus had his wand in hand in a second, lighting up the whole room.
"-the hell is wrong with you?" Lucius grumbled, but Regulus had already slipped out of bed and into a dressing gown, kneeling on the floor to get a good look at his servant.
The elf looked close to tears. "If Master Regulus has no orders, can Kreacher fetch some water?" It was the first time Regulus had ever heard a house elf make a request-it was so antithesis to everything he knew about their species that for a good five seconds he couldn't even answer. And then he reached up for the glass of water he kept beside the bed and handed it over. Kreacher cried noisily into the glass as he guzzled the water down, and as Lucius finally woke up enough to look on in bemusement, Regulus filled the glass for his elf four more times before Kreacher was satisfied and could compose himself. "Thank you, Master Regulus," he croaked. "Kreacher will go now to punish himself for his disrespect."
"That is unnecessary," Regulus quickly interjected. "I want you to stay here, and tell me everything that happened while you were with Lord Voldemort."
House elves had a different sort of magic, and the way they understood magic was very different as well. They had an understanding of the basic magic wizards could invoke with their wands, but none of what Voldemort had done in that drowned cave qualified as "basic". Kreacher described the spells and protective charms to the best of his ability, and of course Regulus could recognize a description of an inferius when he heard it, but he couldn't begin to guess at the potion Kreacher had drunk. At least Kreacher seemed to be suffering no ill effects from the potion. All in all, it was a very clever setup, but to protect, what, a locket?
It couldn't be a weapon. Voldemort would use it-probably on Dumbledore-not hide it. What could Voldemort possibly value highly enough to protect like this, hidden behind so many layers of heavy magic? If it was not something to amass power, then the locket would have to be something meant to preserve power. That felt right, and made sense that the dark lord would go to such great lengths to conceal it. Regulus puzzled the problem out loud, arguing with himself and asking Kreacher to describe the necklace over and over, to detail the way Voldemort had acted, the way he'd spoken and his tone of voice, the delicacy with which he'd handled the locket.
And there it was. Nothing about Lord Voldemort was gentle or delicate, but if Kreacher's description was accurate, the man had actually cradled the locket in his bony hands before carefully placing it in the basin. Carefully. What could Lord Voldemort possibly care about enough to treat it so gingerly? Even his followers were only tools to him-why else would he have ordered the unjustified torture of Bella, possibly the most loyal of his death eaters? As a test for Regulus just didn't seem like an adequate reason, even if Bella was crazy enough not to mind. That should have been his first clue something was wrong, really, but at the same time he'd been too eager to prove himself, and maybe too bitter. It was clear to him now that Lord Voldemort cared only for himself.
"He cares only for himself," Regulus mouthed softly, thoughtfully. And then suddenly, it clicked into place, what a man would hide and protect if he valued nothing but himself, and his power. He sprang to his feet and ignored the soreness in his thighs from the earlier exertions as he dashed from the bedroom.
Ten minutes later, Lucius found him in the library. "Have I missed something?" Regulus glanced up from the book he'd been scanning, discarded it in a waist-high stack of rejects, and then immediately resumed his search of the shelves. "Can this-whatever it is-not wait until morning?"
"In the morning, our sons will need caring for, and I don't want them in here. Some of these books are extremely dangerous." Two more joined the discard pile. "And anyway, this will bother me until I've worked it out.
"Two summers ago, when Sirius left, I spent the whole break in my father's study, reading every last one of his books. Especially the ones regarding the dark arts." Regulus flushed a little-behaviour that had seemed so justified and self-righteous at the time now seemed rather juvenile and petty. He'd never had any particular interest in dark magic as a whole, but Sirius had loathed it, and at the time that had been reason enough, though it hadn't hurt that his father had been pleased to discuss concepts and applications with him. "Several of those books made reference to something. Something Kreacher's story reminded me of. I can't remember anything specific, though. I don't think those books went into a lot of detail." Three more books, and Regulus had to start a new stack. He looked up to find Lucius staring at him. "What?"
Lucius rather deliberately turned in a circle, surveying the shelves. The library was not a small room, and shelves filled with books lined the walls, floor-to-ceiling. "You are going to go through all these by hand," he deadpanned. "Without knowing what you're looking for, or if you'll recognize it when you find it. How do you even know I've got books on this mysterious subject, if your father's books were so vague?"
Regulus had turned back to the shelves before Lucius was finished. "I'm certain you do. Your collection is far more extensive than my father's." He flipped through several more books, and then nonchalantly smacked one against the bookcase when it tried to bite him. He glanced at the cover and was about to cast it aside, too, when the words he'd read actually sank in. Tamping down his excitement, Regulus faced Lucius and as calmly as he could, asked, "What do you know about horcruxes?"
As it turned out, Lucius knew even less than Regulus's half-formed memories could fill in. But with the word to search for, between the two of them they found half a dozen books devoted to the subject. And then Regulus learned more about horcruxes than he had ever wanted to know. He wondered if there was something wrong with him, that he couldn't imagine fragmenting his soul, even in a bid for immortality. He didn't ask Lucius; he wasn't sure he wanted an answer, and anyway the man had been very quiet ever since they'd started reading. Of one thing, however, Regulus was absolutely certain: the horcrux could not be allowed to exist.
It was clear to Regulus now that it had not been power that had altered Lord Voldemort's appearance, but the shredding and warping of his soul. And if a man could do that to himself, he might have no limits at all. Regulus did not want to live in a world where a man like that was in power; no one would be safe.
"Kreacher," Regulus called, and the elf cracked into existence right in front of him and swept a bow. "Would you be able to find the cave again?"
Kreacher nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, Master Regulus. Kreacher can take Master Regulus there, if he wishes."
"That is out of the question!" Lucius thundered. Kreacher quailed, and even Regulus startled; he hadn't realized Lucius was paying attention. "You are not going into a cave full of inferi after an item the dark lord went to such great lengths to hide. Are you out of your mind? Who do you suppose he would blame if he ever discovered it was gone? I will not allow you to put yourself at risk, risk the safety of our sons, on such a foolish endeavour!"
"They are already at risk!" Regulus all but shouted back, and it was gratifying to see the look of shock cross Lucius's face, even if Regulus was too angry to fully appreciate it. "This monster ripped himself into pieces so that he could hold onto his power forever. Do you want our sons to grow up with a man like that in control? I'm not your wife, and I'm not your servant, and it is not your place to allow me anything!"
Regulus watched Lucius's expression harden and supposed he had gone too far, but it didn't feel like far enough. "It isn't a foolish endeavour. Maybe doing this won't be enough to bring Voldemort down all by itself, but while the horcrux remains intact, he can theoretically return to power in the future, even if his body is killed. And the fools at the Ministry, the self-styled Order of the Phoenix we've heard rumours of, do you think they've got any fucking clue? You grew up in the same bloody house as these books, and you weren't even sure what the word meant!"
Regulus had been on the carpeted floor of the library, perusing three books at once, but now he crawled over to the armchair Lucius sat in, plucking the book from his husband's fingers and staring up at him. "I know it's dangerous, but what isn't, nowadays? It would be more irresponsible to leave this alone. If it is any consolation, I have no intention of going into that cave myself. I'd like to, I really would, just to do it myself. But you're right that it is foolish to face a cave of inferi when I have our family to think about."
"How will that help?" Lucius broke in, anger and impatience warring in his voice. And though Regulus felt a little guilty for making him feel that way, he was also undeniably pleased that he was capable of upsetting Lucius like this at all. "It was your elf he borrowed. I don't believe fragmenting his soul has addled the dark lord's ability to reason."
"That's a chance I'm willing to take," Regulus insisted. He raised his hands, gripped Lucius's thighs lightly. "I don't think Voldemort would have bothered with such extensive protections for the cave if he intended to check on the horcrux with any frequency. I've made up my mind; now you have to decide what you're going to do, whether you lied to me about your loyalties." He stared up into Lucius's eyes for one long, clear moment, and then scooted away, back across the floor to address Kreacher.
"My brother may be disowned," he told the elf quietly, "but in terms of blood, he is still a Black. Will you be able to locate him if I ask you to?" Kreacher's ears drooped visibly, but he nodded, and Regulus wished his brother could have been nicer to the family elves. "I am going to write a letter, and you will deliver it to Sirius, and you will tell him everything you remember about the cave. If he chooses to enter the cave, you will assist him the way you did Voldemort, and you will return afterward in the same way."
Regulus sucked in a shaky breath, exhaled it slowly. "Even if Sirius isn't involved with this so-called Order of the Phoenix, I have no doubt he will have an idea who can best use this information." He heard shifting behind him, soft padding footsteps as Lucius crossed the room behind him, but Regulus didn't turn, wasn't sure he wanted to know what his husband was doing after he'd essentially given Lucius an ultimatum. He tried to focus upon coming up with any further instructions for Kreacher, because he wasn't looking forward to writing the letter. After the way they had parted, Sirius would have no reason to believe him-he'd probably think this was a trap, which, in a way it was.
Regulus was startled from his thoughts when Lucius cleared his throat, standing right behind him. Lucius leaned over him, holding a slim, unmarked black book a few inches in front of his face. "Send this along to your brother, too."
He took the book, flipped through it quickly only to find every page blank-he'd thought Lucius might have chosen a tome about horcruxes. The only writing on the book was an unfamiliar name inscribed in the back cover. He turned to look up at Lucius. "What is this?"
"The dark lord gave it to me. 'For safe keeping,' he said." Every hair on Regulus's body stood on end, and he dropped the book to the carpet as his flesh crawled. "I cannot be certain what it is, but I can guess." Lucius crouched down in front of Regulus, sank a hand into his hair to force their eyes to meet. "Is that proof enough for you?"
~Fin.
Author: Skellywag
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lucius/Regulus
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Alternate timeline. Regulus's life is not progressing as he had expected, and an arranged marriage to Lucius Malfoy is only the beginning.
Warnings: Unapologetically long, underage? sex (Regulus is 16 to Lucius's 23), dubcon, creative use of made-up magic, public sex, mPreg, bloodplay-after a fashion, gore, torture, violence directed towards both children and adults.
A/N: Written for hp-yule-balls. First and foremost, my everlasting gratitude to my lovely beta fitz-y, who has been a wealth of support, advice, and cheerleading. This wouldn’t be half the fic it is without her, and I don't mean in terms of word count. Also a big thank-you to jaylee-g for the info about pregnancy, who helped me (I hope) make this a much more realistic mPreg than it would otherwise be. All remaining mistakes are mine alone. Thanks also to the wonderful mods at hp-yule-balls and their patience; this monster took a little longer than I'd expected to get written, and I hope it's worth the extra time it took me.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
The month after the babies were born, Regulus didn't think he got eight hours of sleep, cumulatively. The boys wouldn't sleep at all if they weren't together, in a single bassinet, but that also meant, if one of them woke up hungry or needing a diaper changed, they were both up and raising hell. That first siren wail could rouse Regulus from halfway across the manor, and it always made his heart clench until he found out what was wrong. Lucius didn't sleep much, either, even though whenever it was his turn to change a diaper, a house elf did it for him.
Worse still were the summons they received from the dark lord. It wasn't as if the house elves couldn't be trusted-their magic functioned on obedience above all, and Kreacher in particular was as loyal a house elf as they came. But that knowledge couldn't stop Regulus worrying. About the children, yes, but also about Lucius, who could not afford distraction when he had to perform for both of them. The man was more vicious in any task the dark lord gave him, and while Lord Voldemort was infinitely pleased with everything Lucius did for him, it bothered Regulus to watch the lengths his husband went to in order to keep them safe. People tortured, people killed, and gruesomely. Regulus wasn't sure he saw Lucius ever use the killing curse when he could think of something that would result in a painful death for his victim. And even worse was when he placed a muggle under the imperius curse and then ordered his target to kill others-usually with bare hands or, at most, a knife. It was something like relief to return to Hogwarts, where he wouldn't be touched by the dark lord's summons, at least for a while.
It was only like relief, however. Going back to Hogwarts for fall term was actually the hardest thing Regulus had ever done.
It didn't matter that Lucius was able to bring the boys to the castle on weekends-being on the Board of Governors had some perks. Despite the fact that Dumbledore was not exactly thrilled, he couldn't refuse them without cause, and they were careful not to give him any. Weekends were not enough to satisfy Regulus's need for his sons. He found it difficult to sleep during term without the boys in the room, ready to potentially wake him up the instant he drifted off. He worried for them, though he knew Lucius would do everything he could to keep them safe.
Insomnia was Regulus's late-night companion, but he didn't take it lying down. He started jogging, partly to wear himself out to the point he could pass out from exhaustion, and partly to get off his baby weight for quidditch. Professor Slughorn gave him special permission to be out after curfew, but Regulus restricted his late-night jogs to the dungeon corridors, which Slughorn himself was supposed to patrol-even being one of the man's favourites could only go so far, and Regulus would never have been allowed to wander the school grounds outside at night.
By the time the winter holidays rolled around, Regulus was fairly starved for his boys, and there were other cravings, too. He and Lucius hadn't had sex since before the twins were born. Amidst all those sleepless nights, sex hadn't been a primary concern, especially since it hadn't been a possibility during any of Lucius's weekend visits.
Now he'd been home for three days, but in between caring for the children-who, at six months old, were beginning to sleep through most of the night, but were also more interactive during the day-and preparing for Christmas, Regulus hadn't found any time alone with Lucius that didn't also involve passing out from exhaustion for some of the best sleep he'd had in months. Of course, being well-rested only made Regulus want it worse, and the fact that Lucius was so good with their boys was a massive turn-on.
Regulus and Lucius sat in rocking chairs in the boys' new nursery-complete with two cribs, though they still insisted on sharing one. Corvus had been asleep in his arms for half an hour now, and Regulus was watching his husband rock Draco, by far the fussier of the twins. He hadn't noticed it before, but it was nearly always Draco that would start crying first, rousing his brother, who would then proceed to wail even more loudly than Draco could.
"I think he's finally asleep," Lucius murmured softly, lifting his eyes to Regulus's.
"Then let's put them to bed," Regulus replied. He was sure his intentions were easy to read from his expression, but just in case, he added, "I expect we can allow Dobby and Kreacher to tend to them if they wake up in the middle of the night?"
Lucius grinned at him, and rose to his feet gingerly, as if he were carrying something much more volatile and dangerous than a sleeping baby. There was something of a system to putting the boys into bed, and it involved putting Corvus down first, because he was slower to wake and less likely to start screaming if he did. Only then could Draco be put in the crib beside his brother, where they would instantly curl up together and share the space.
It was really sweet, almost ridiculously so, in fact. Regulus stood there beside the crib, watching his little boys sleep, and nearly forgot all about sex. Right up until he felt the front of Lucius's body press firmly to his back, arms wrapping around his almost-back-to-normal waistline. It sent shivers through him from what seemed like every point of contact between their bodies, and he leaned back heavily against Lucius, because he could.
Lucius mouthed lightly along the side of Regulus's throat, nipping at the sensitive skin. "It's been too long," he murmured in a low, dark voice. "They aren't going anywhere; you can come back later and watch them sleep, if that's what you want to do."
"So then you don't intend to keep me occupied for the entire night?" Regulus huffed a sigh, squirmed a little to shift his body against Lucius's hips. "How very…disappointing."
Lucius's resultant groan was almost enough to muffle the crack of displacement behind them. Lucius either hadn't noticed or didn't care, his hands drifting, cupping Regulus through his robes, but Regulus didn't want an audience, even if it was only a house elf. Their marriage had cured him of any propensity for exhibitionism he might ever have developed.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a house elf. Regulus turned himself and Lucius so that he could give the wayward servant a piece of his mind, and instead found himself glaring at Lord Voldemort-he rectified his expression very quickly indeed. "My lord," Regulus gasped, jabbing his elbow hard into the ribcage behind his own, and Lucius pulled away enough to allow them both to turn fully and face the dark lord. "Apologies, we weren't expecting you."
"Clearly." The man sounded amused, but his face didn't show it. If it was possible, Voldemort looked even paler than he had the last time Regulus had seen him, and the boy tried to convince himself that it was only by comparison to his ghastly complexion that his eyes were so red-both the irises and what would have been white. His cheekbones and chin were sharper, but his face seemed almost flatter, though Regulus couldn't tell precisely what was wrong with the proportions. How could anyone change in appearance so much in only a few months? Lord Voldemort wasn't even ill, which was the only justification for such a change that Regulus could come up with. The dark lord seemed as vital as ever, despite his pallor.
Voldemort crossed the room to look into the crib, his narrow, bony fingers closing around the top bar. Regulus tensed, turning enough to watch him, an angry litany of expletives chasing each other through his head-mostly directed at Lucius, even though it had not been his husband's idea to change the manor's wards to permit the dark lord to apparate inside, and at least he was forced to appear in whatever room Lucius occupied. But Voldemort didn't attempt to touch the boys, and Lucius had wrapped an arm around Regulus to restrain him without looking like he was.
Lord Voldemort was staring at his babies too long. Regulus couldn't tell what it meant, but it was difficult to focus his anger and distrust on Greyback when this threat, indirect as it was, was much more immediate. "A word, Regulus?" the dark lord murmured, just as Regulus was preparing to ask the purpose of his visit. "Perhaps in the study? We wouldn't want to wake the children." The words sounded so sardonic in Voldemort's sibilant rasp; Regulus was grateful he could barely move against Lucius's side because his first response, hearing anyone speak about his children in that tone, would have been reflexive and utterly unwise.
"Of course, my lord," Regulus managed to reply after a false start, and Lucius was reluctant to release him, though he was almost certain it had less to do with worry for Regulus himself than it did with worry for what he might say or do. Regulus brushed down his robes and stepped to the door. "After you?"
Voldemort stepped away from the crib, and Lucius moved to follow, but the dark lord glanced back and stopped him with a look. "You may remain here with your sons, Lucius. I do not require anything from you tonight."
And Regulus, who somehow knew exactly what he was looking at, watched his husband freeze, expression gone ice-cold and betraying nothing. "As you wish, my lord," Lucius replied, smoothly enough, but Regulus was not at all reassured. Lucius was worried, and Regulus hoped Lord Voldemort hadn't noticed or he might begin to wonder what Lucius could possibly be worried about.
Regulus conducted their way down to the first-floor study in silence-he was trying to compose himself, the racing of his heart, and Lord Voldemort was not one for small talk even if he could have come up with something to say. "Tea, my lord?" he asked once they reached the study, and he closed the door behind them in a show of confidence he didn't feel.
"No." Voldemort didn't sit down and so neither did Regulus, who stood knotting and twisting his fingers at the small of his back, out of sight. "I am not here for a social visit." The dark lord began to pace slowly back and forth in front of the cold fireplace, and Regulus had to curb the impulse to ask why he had come-he would get to it in his own time.
"You have proven very useful to me, in your position at Hogwarts," Voldemort began, and even such an auspicious start to the conversation could not soothe Regulus's nerves. "The information you've been relaying through Lucius has allowed me to track Dumbledore's movements, especially in coordination with Lucius's reports from his meetings with the Board of Governors and intelligence gathered from the Ministry. It is very important to our cause that Dumbledore be neutralized, and you've been a valuable asset to those plans. I cannot yet move on the school, but once I can, it will be convenient to plan the offense around Dumbledore's schedule."
It sounded like a whole lot of posturing to Regulus. From what he had seen and heard, which admittedly was not very much, the dark lord could not stand against Dumbledore. Not yet. Maybe an army of werewolves would help, maybe that was the point, though they'd be a group comprised primarily of muggles and thus useless most of the month. At any rate, this wasn't the reprimand he'd been expecting: apparently Lord Voldemort had not noticed the misinformation Regulus had included in his reports-Dumbledore's movements probably appeared even more erratic than they actually were.
Regulus was closer to real relief, now. But still, Lord Voldemort would not have come only to tell him what a good job he was doing. "Thank you, my lord. I only wish I could do more." True, though not in the way Voldemort would expect. It was easier to tell lies of intent and make them sound sincere; there was nothing to rouse the dark lord's suspicions.
"In a few months, you will have that opportunity. I look forward to seeing what you truly are capable of." Voldemort's voice was soft and insidious and even in spite of what Regulus had learned about him and the way he operated, there was still some small part of Regulus who wanted to please him-or maybe, more generally, wanted to please someone. "Ah, but you've brought me to my point, because there is something you can do for me. And, because I am feeling generous, I am also going to reward you for your performance at Hogwarts." The dark lord's voice was rife with irony, and Regulus smiled only because he was expected to do so.
"Your left arm," Voldemort instructed, holding out a hand for it. As Regulus complied, he wondered if this would be the task the man had in mind, or the reward. Voldemort's thin fingers brushed up the length of Regulus's arm as he pushed up the sleeve to reveal the mark on the boy's forearm. They felt cold and the skin was so dry it bordered desiccated; all the little hairs on Regulus's arm stood up, but if Voldemort noticed, he didn't comment. Or maybe Regulus didn't hear it, because Voldemort pressed a fingertip to the skull imprinted in his flesh, and Regulus was dropped to his knees before he registered what had happened.
Every nerve south of his elbow lit up with a flare of white-hot pain; it was sudden and mind-numbing and Regulus screamed until his throat went raw with it, until he managed to set his teeth on edge and bring his volume down to an agonized groan. Because still it surged and pulsed for an eternity or what felt like one. He quivered with the pain, convulsed even once it ebbed. He didn't think he could move any of his left fingers. Pressing his nose into the carpet, Regulus shuddered and sobbed for a full breath that wouldn't come, and contemplated in minute detail the steps involved in standing up.
"You were exempted from nearly two dozen summons," Lord Voldemort remarked from somewhere above him; Regulus could only see a pair of shoes. "You are indeed fortunate I chose to get the backlash out of the way now. You might have frightened your children with a display like that."
"Yes, my lord," Regulus agreed, mumbling it to the floor. Even rewards from Lord Voldemort felt like punishments. He wondered if Sirius would have appreciated the irony, would have asked him what he'd expected, wearing a sarcastic grin. Regulus tried to fist his left hand, but his fingers gave no more than an epileptic twitch. No, he didn't think his brother would be remotely amused.
"Now, you will do something for me. Don't worry," the dark lord chuckled, and Regulus gritted his teeth at the sound, "you need not get up. It is a simple task. I merely require the use of a house elf."
It shamed Regulus to call for a servant in such a state, but his arm still hurt, so badly he thought he might throw up, and he was frightened by the way it felt like so much dead weight when he tried to move it. Kreacher was such a good elf, though. He made no comment on his master's appearance after answering his summon. "What can Kreacher be doing for Master Regulus?"
Regulus drew in a deep breath, used his right hand to awkwardly push himself into a sitting position. He stared into Kreacher's face and pretended the elf's luminous eyes weren't any more watery-looking than usual. "You are to go with Lord Voldemort and obey his every command." He didn't like this, not one bit. Why did the dark lord want an elf and not a person? Wizards could do a wider variety of things with their magic; house elves were more-what, obedient? The imperius curse could make a wizard compliant. Elves…were disposable. Regulus's gut clenched. Kreacher might have been just a house elf, but he was a very good elf. The Malfoy elves weren't worth even Kreacher's excessive ear hair.
Voldemort was satisfied, apparently. He snapped his thin, dry fingers and, without a word, apparated. Kreacher had been ordered to follow, so when he apparated he would appear at whatever location the dark lord had just gone to. And in the few seconds before Kreacher diappeared, Regulus stammered out, all in a rush, "You will come home once you've done what he wants." And Kreacher beamed at him before disappearing.
Regulus was still sitting on the floor, working on his fingers, when Lucius came and found him. There were no questions. Lucius only helped him to his feet and led their way back upstairs, but Regulus told him everything anyway-he didn't think secrecy had been the dark lord's purpose in separating them, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have cared. He didn't finish until they were standing in their bedroom, and Regulus had managed to close his fingers, loosely-it didn't seem like there would be any permanent nerve damage, at least.
Without preamble, Lucius began unbuttoning Regulus's robes. "Let us clarify this," he murmured in clipped, efficient tones. "For months now, you have been allowing me to lie to the dark lord. Without informing me."
Regulus shrugged out of the robes when Lucius finished, unstrapped his wand and its sheath from his left arm and set it on the bedside table. "My information wasn't all lies," he argued. "And it was a sort of spur of the moment thing, the first time." He hated that it sounded like he was making excuses when he had no intent of changing his behaviour. He skinned out of his pants and then crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Lucius expectantly. "Are you angry?"
The question tore Lucius's eyes from whatever part of Regulus they'd been staring at; they flicked up to his face. "Yes," he replied, but as if he hadn't made up his mind before that moment. "You should know better than to take risks if you are uncertain of the gain. The misinformation may not even affect his plans that much, but still he would punish you for it mercilessly if he found out."
Regulus sighed. "I know all that. But I had to do something. Fuck, Lucius. I couldn't even stand to have him in the same room as our sons. I don't want to help him if it could end up hurting Draco and Corvus later on."
Lucius shook his head, giving Regulus an indulgent smile. He stepped close and wrapped his arms around Regulus, smoothed his fingers down the boy's bare spine. "You are brave on the scale of a Gryffindor," he murmured, and Regulus was so certain he heard affection in his husband's voice that he couldn't even be insulted. Regulus licked his lower lip, tilted his face up to Lucius's, and Lucius took the cue and kissed him. Hungry, possessive, and yes, a little angry, too, Lucius kissed him until he was breathless and light-headed, weak in the knees. And then kept kissing him until Regulus had gone hard and needy, precome staining the front of Lucius's robes where he'd pressed his body to them.
There was no space between them, and yet Regulus's fingers squirmed into the non-space anyway, fumbling at Lucius's buttons and then popping off the last few when he got frustrated and yanked too hard. It was a struggle to force Lucius to release him long enough to get the robes off; the man's hands were everywhere, brushing the sides of his throat, down his shoulders, arms, hips, teasing his crack to make him buck and gasp. Lucius was still wearing a shirt and trousers, and for the sake of expediency, the shirt was ignored. Getting his husband naked from the waist down took Regulus only seconds.
Lucius stepped out of his trousers and pants and then kept walking, guiding Regulus backward until his back thumped softly against the wall, and then a second time, harder, as he was pinned there. They were right beside the bed, and yet it was too far to consider and Lucius only shifted enough to retrieve a bottle of lubricant from the bedside table. Regulus mouthed along Lucius's throat, biting hard enough to bruise. He tore at the buttons of his husband's shirt, and when they held he slipped his hands up under the hem to dig his nails into Lucius's shoulders, support as he hiked a thigh up the man's hip.
Oil spilled down Regulus's shoulder as Lucius hastily wet his fingers without bothering to pull away so he'd have room to do it. More of it smeared on his thigh as Lucius grasped his leg and lifted it higher. Lucius pressed their bodies tighter, palmed the side of Regulus's arse, and began working two fingers into him.
They had not been together for something like seven months, and though, in that time, Regulus might have finger-fucked himself once or twice during a wank session, those instances were nothing compared to this. He set his teeth to the collar of Lucius's shirt, groaned as he yanked on it. His hips jerked faintly with the shallow thrusts of Lucius's fingers, trying to drive them deeper though Lucius couldn't quite reach enough to get them in past the middle knuckle.
"Lucius," he snarled into his husband's shirt, and the name was an oath. "Fuck me already." The fingers were abruptly taken away and then Regulus was slammed into the wall, hard, scraped up onto his toes as Lucius drove up into him. He was still very tight, and Lucius groaned more loudly than Regulus did, with that first deep thrust.
Regulus clung to Lucius's shoulders under his shirt, dug his heel into the small of the man's back for balance as Lucius fucked him without pause, without waiting for the muscles to fully stretch. He loved it. His back skidded up the wall with each thrust, and the slight pain of it-nothing compared to what Voldemort had done-played counterpoint to the pleasure, the slide and the friction, intensifying every sensation. Lucius panted into his hair, into his ear, into his neck. It might have been kisses, and it might have been words, and Regulus couldn't tell the difference. He slicked a hand down Lucius's sweaty back, dug his nails into his husband's arse to urge him faster.
The man was ferocious, and Regulus didn't want it to end. Every sound Lucius made, his every movement. The anger was tangible, and Regulus almost regretted his lies. The lust was undeniable, and there was certainly nothing to regret there. But there was something else in Lucius, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Regulus tried to focus, tried to reach it as he rode the force of Lucius's body and rubbed his cock against his husband's expensive shirt.
Lucius kissed Regulus when he came, grunted into his mouth and sucked on his tongue. And in the few heartbeats of time before Lucius wrapped his fingers around Regulus's length and stroked him to incoherence, it occurred to him that maybe Lucius had needed this even more than he had. He moaned his release into Lucius's lips, panting thickly through his nose because he didn't want to break contact until Lucius made him. Which apparently would not happen for a while longer, as Lucius tugged him away from the wall and tumbled them into bed.
Regulus woke in the dark, unsure what had roused him. He and Lucius were all tangled up, which was new-they shared a bed, but Regulus was practically on top of Lucius and normally he was careful not to invade his husband's space to this degree. But Lucius's breathing was deep and even, and Regulus was too comfortable to have woken because of their positions.
He nearly cracked his forehead into Lucius's chin when a raspy garbled voice spoke from behind him, just at the edge of his side of the bed. Lucius groaned and shoved at him in annoyance, but Regulus had already sat up, turned away to stare blindly in the direction of the voice. "Who's there?" he hissed, anticipating the worst.
A soft, rattling cough, and the voice tried again, this time intelligible. "It is Kreacher, Master Regulus. I is coming home like Master Regulus commanded." And Kreacher may have been the oldest house elf Regulus had ever seen, but it was still quite strange to hear his every word come out sounding so dry and broken. Something was most definitely wrong, and Regulus had his wand in hand in a second, lighting up the whole room.
"-the hell is wrong with you?" Lucius grumbled, but Regulus had already slipped out of bed and into a dressing gown, kneeling on the floor to get a good look at his servant.
The elf looked close to tears. "If Master Regulus has no orders, can Kreacher fetch some water?" It was the first time Regulus had ever heard a house elf make a request-it was so antithesis to everything he knew about their species that for a good five seconds he couldn't even answer. And then he reached up for the glass of water he kept beside the bed and handed it over. Kreacher cried noisily into the glass as he guzzled the water down, and as Lucius finally woke up enough to look on in bemusement, Regulus filled the glass for his elf four more times before Kreacher was satisfied and could compose himself. "Thank you, Master Regulus," he croaked. "Kreacher will go now to punish himself for his disrespect."
"That is unnecessary," Regulus quickly interjected. "I want you to stay here, and tell me everything that happened while you were with Lord Voldemort."
House elves had a different sort of magic, and the way they understood magic was very different as well. They had an understanding of the basic magic wizards could invoke with their wands, but none of what Voldemort had done in that drowned cave qualified as "basic". Kreacher described the spells and protective charms to the best of his ability, and of course Regulus could recognize a description of an inferius when he heard it, but he couldn't begin to guess at the potion Kreacher had drunk. At least Kreacher seemed to be suffering no ill effects from the potion. All in all, it was a very clever setup, but to protect, what, a locket?
It couldn't be a weapon. Voldemort would use it-probably on Dumbledore-not hide it. What could Voldemort possibly value highly enough to protect like this, hidden behind so many layers of heavy magic? If it was not something to amass power, then the locket would have to be something meant to preserve power. That felt right, and made sense that the dark lord would go to such great lengths to conceal it. Regulus puzzled the problem out loud, arguing with himself and asking Kreacher to describe the necklace over and over, to detail the way Voldemort had acted, the way he'd spoken and his tone of voice, the delicacy with which he'd handled the locket.
And there it was. Nothing about Lord Voldemort was gentle or delicate, but if Kreacher's description was accurate, the man had actually cradled the locket in his bony hands before carefully placing it in the basin. Carefully. What could Lord Voldemort possibly care about enough to treat it so gingerly? Even his followers were only tools to him-why else would he have ordered the unjustified torture of Bella, possibly the most loyal of his death eaters? As a test for Regulus just didn't seem like an adequate reason, even if Bella was crazy enough not to mind. That should have been his first clue something was wrong, really, but at the same time he'd been too eager to prove himself, and maybe too bitter. It was clear to him now that Lord Voldemort cared only for himself.
"He cares only for himself," Regulus mouthed softly, thoughtfully. And then suddenly, it clicked into place, what a man would hide and protect if he valued nothing but himself, and his power. He sprang to his feet and ignored the soreness in his thighs from the earlier exertions as he dashed from the bedroom.
Ten minutes later, Lucius found him in the library. "Have I missed something?" Regulus glanced up from the book he'd been scanning, discarded it in a waist-high stack of rejects, and then immediately resumed his search of the shelves. "Can this-whatever it is-not wait until morning?"
"In the morning, our sons will need caring for, and I don't want them in here. Some of these books are extremely dangerous." Two more joined the discard pile. "And anyway, this will bother me until I've worked it out.
"Two summers ago, when Sirius left, I spent the whole break in my father's study, reading every last one of his books. Especially the ones regarding the dark arts." Regulus flushed a little-behaviour that had seemed so justified and self-righteous at the time now seemed rather juvenile and petty. He'd never had any particular interest in dark magic as a whole, but Sirius had loathed it, and at the time that had been reason enough, though it hadn't hurt that his father had been pleased to discuss concepts and applications with him. "Several of those books made reference to something. Something Kreacher's story reminded me of. I can't remember anything specific, though. I don't think those books went into a lot of detail." Three more books, and Regulus had to start a new stack. He looked up to find Lucius staring at him. "What?"
Lucius rather deliberately turned in a circle, surveying the shelves. The library was not a small room, and shelves filled with books lined the walls, floor-to-ceiling. "You are going to go through all these by hand," he deadpanned. "Without knowing what you're looking for, or if you'll recognize it when you find it. How do you even know I've got books on this mysterious subject, if your father's books were so vague?"
Regulus had turned back to the shelves before Lucius was finished. "I'm certain you do. Your collection is far more extensive than my father's." He flipped through several more books, and then nonchalantly smacked one against the bookcase when it tried to bite him. He glanced at the cover and was about to cast it aside, too, when the words he'd read actually sank in. Tamping down his excitement, Regulus faced Lucius and as calmly as he could, asked, "What do you know about horcruxes?"
As it turned out, Lucius knew even less than Regulus's half-formed memories could fill in. But with the word to search for, between the two of them they found half a dozen books devoted to the subject. And then Regulus learned more about horcruxes than he had ever wanted to know. He wondered if there was something wrong with him, that he couldn't imagine fragmenting his soul, even in a bid for immortality. He didn't ask Lucius; he wasn't sure he wanted an answer, and anyway the man had been very quiet ever since they'd started reading. Of one thing, however, Regulus was absolutely certain: the horcrux could not be allowed to exist.
It was clear to Regulus now that it had not been power that had altered Lord Voldemort's appearance, but the shredding and warping of his soul. And if a man could do that to himself, he might have no limits at all. Regulus did not want to live in a world where a man like that was in power; no one would be safe.
"Kreacher," Regulus called, and the elf cracked into existence right in front of him and swept a bow. "Would you be able to find the cave again?"
Kreacher nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, Master Regulus. Kreacher can take Master Regulus there, if he wishes."
"That is out of the question!" Lucius thundered. Kreacher quailed, and even Regulus startled; he hadn't realized Lucius was paying attention. "You are not going into a cave full of inferi after an item the dark lord went to such great lengths to hide. Are you out of your mind? Who do you suppose he would blame if he ever discovered it was gone? I will not allow you to put yourself at risk, risk the safety of our sons, on such a foolish endeavour!"
"They are already at risk!" Regulus all but shouted back, and it was gratifying to see the look of shock cross Lucius's face, even if Regulus was too angry to fully appreciate it. "This monster ripped himself into pieces so that he could hold onto his power forever. Do you want our sons to grow up with a man like that in control? I'm not your wife, and I'm not your servant, and it is not your place to allow me anything!"
Regulus watched Lucius's expression harden and supposed he had gone too far, but it didn't feel like far enough. "It isn't a foolish endeavour. Maybe doing this won't be enough to bring Voldemort down all by itself, but while the horcrux remains intact, he can theoretically return to power in the future, even if his body is killed. And the fools at the Ministry, the self-styled Order of the Phoenix we've heard rumours of, do you think they've got any fucking clue? You grew up in the same bloody house as these books, and you weren't even sure what the word meant!"
Regulus had been on the carpeted floor of the library, perusing three books at once, but now he crawled over to the armchair Lucius sat in, plucking the book from his husband's fingers and staring up at him. "I know it's dangerous, but what isn't, nowadays? It would be more irresponsible to leave this alone. If it is any consolation, I have no intention of going into that cave myself. I'd like to, I really would, just to do it myself. But you're right that it is foolish to face a cave of inferi when I have our family to think about."
"How will that help?" Lucius broke in, anger and impatience warring in his voice. And though Regulus felt a little guilty for making him feel that way, he was also undeniably pleased that he was capable of upsetting Lucius like this at all. "It was your elf he borrowed. I don't believe fragmenting his soul has addled the dark lord's ability to reason."
"That's a chance I'm willing to take," Regulus insisted. He raised his hands, gripped Lucius's thighs lightly. "I don't think Voldemort would have bothered with such extensive protections for the cave if he intended to check on the horcrux with any frequency. I've made up my mind; now you have to decide what you're going to do, whether you lied to me about your loyalties." He stared up into Lucius's eyes for one long, clear moment, and then scooted away, back across the floor to address Kreacher.
"My brother may be disowned," he told the elf quietly, "but in terms of blood, he is still a Black. Will you be able to locate him if I ask you to?" Kreacher's ears drooped visibly, but he nodded, and Regulus wished his brother could have been nicer to the family elves. "I am going to write a letter, and you will deliver it to Sirius, and you will tell him everything you remember about the cave. If he chooses to enter the cave, you will assist him the way you did Voldemort, and you will return afterward in the same way."
Regulus sucked in a shaky breath, exhaled it slowly. "Even if Sirius isn't involved with this so-called Order of the Phoenix, I have no doubt he will have an idea who can best use this information." He heard shifting behind him, soft padding footsteps as Lucius crossed the room behind him, but Regulus didn't turn, wasn't sure he wanted to know what his husband was doing after he'd essentially given Lucius an ultimatum. He tried to focus upon coming up with any further instructions for Kreacher, because he wasn't looking forward to writing the letter. After the way they had parted, Sirius would have no reason to believe him-he'd probably think this was a trap, which, in a way it was.
Regulus was startled from his thoughts when Lucius cleared his throat, standing right behind him. Lucius leaned over him, holding a slim, unmarked black book a few inches in front of his face. "Send this along to your brother, too."
He took the book, flipped through it quickly only to find every page blank-he'd thought Lucius might have chosen a tome about horcruxes. The only writing on the book was an unfamiliar name inscribed in the back cover. He turned to look up at Lucius. "What is this?"
"The dark lord gave it to me. 'For safe keeping,' he said." Every hair on Regulus's body stood on end, and he dropped the book to the carpet as his flesh crawled. "I cannot be certain what it is, but I can guess." Lucius crouched down in front of Regulus, sank a hand into his hair to force their eyes to meet. "Is that proof enough for you?"
~Fin.