Thicker Than Water
Another Regulus story, enjoy:
Thicker Than Water
Rated: PG-13
Characters: Regulus Black, Severus Snape
Summary:
Thicker Than Water
October 2004
Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine; they belong to JK Rowling.
Many years later, Sirius Black would mention his brother Regulus’ death to Harry Potter with a mixture of pity and vehemence….
“No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, JK Rowling, Scholastic Press, pg. 112
If he’d only known the circumstances behind Regulus’ refusal and subsequent death…
‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ Regulus thought, slumping over on his barstool pitifully.
He was in a pub located in the infamous Knockturn Alley, not exactly a local hotspot for young wizards and witches. The old, dingy place was hardly set up for families of respectable status. The dozen round tables that were scattered haphazardly throughout the floor were certainly questionable; some wobbled every time a patron came through the door, others had a layer of grime so thick that it took several attempts to pull one’s tankard off of the tabletop. Regulus hadn’t been keen on sitting at one of them, which was why he had taken a seat at the bar, which was only marginally better in upkeep, frankly.
The other patrons seemed not to mind, however, though this was likely because they were a rather shifty-looking bunch. To Regulus’ right was a table of goblins playing a betting game, and they were playing vehemently, throwing coins at each other and shouting what Regulus could only assume were curse words in Gobbledegook. A grumpy old wizard whose face was barely visible behind his hair, eyebrows, and beard was near the fireplace, and a witch who’d made several attempts for everyone in the bar (including the Goblins) to buy her a drink was now sulking in the corner and picking her nose with a knobbly finger. All of them, including Regulus, were seated far away from a figure sitting at a table near the windows. He was very pale, with dark hair and a large widow’s peak, and if Regulus were a goblin, he’d have been placing bets on the man being a vampire. The other folks must have thought so too, which would explain the distance. None of them fancied being the one to find out for certain.
Regulus took a long, healthy swig of ale. He had been doing this for over an hour already, and though he wasn’t out and out drunk, he concluded that he was what Rosier would have termed “half-pissed.” One of his thin hands clutched his tumbler tightly, and the other idly tore the edges of his napkin away and rolled them into small balls. Most of the napkin was gone now, and he brushed the scraps off the bar with his left forearm, trying to ignore the familiar tingle of a certain mark that was hidden under his sleeve. It was hard to do.
He let out a low hiss of air and tore his gaze away from his ale long enough to survey his surroundings. Just beyond the counter there was an old mirror hanging behind rows of musty liquor bottles. One large, crooked crack ran down from the right corner, cutting Regulus’s reflection at the shoulder. He really did look terrible, he realized. His blue-grey eyes were bloodshot and ringed with unhealthy shadows. Worry lined the pale slate of his forehead and formed a deep crease between his brows. The fact that he hadn’t shaved for a few days wasn’t helping his case any, either.
As he reflected on his appearance, it suddenly dawned on him that he looked quite a bit like his father. Surprisingly, he found the thought a bit unnerving, where once he would have thought it to be admirable.
His distinguished Black looks were going to pot with lack of care and a bit of the drink. His mother would be appalled. 'Merlin, help me,' he thought, and quickly lifted his glass to his lips.
At least no one would be confusing him with Sirius. The two brothers looked quite similar, although Regulus was shorter, with sharper features and bluer eyes. Even during his schooling, the professors would slip up and call him Sirius--something that neither brother took as a compliment.
Of course, Regulus thought, Sirius was partly to blame for his current state of appearance. He took a quick swig of ale and shook his head. Well, perhaps not. Regulus’ current predicament was purely his own fault, and he sincerely doubted that there would be any solution. Blast.
“Black.”
The voice broke Regulus out of his reverie, and he quickly spun around to see its source. Severus Snape stood before him, looking dark and menacing, though perhaps more irritable than menacing. His own face was gaunt and shadowed, and he looked like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks.
“Snape,” Regulus greeted him gruffly, waving to the empty seat next to him. “I’m pleased you decided to come. Have a seat, I’ll buy us a drink.”
“You look like you don’t need anything more to drink,” Snape replied, but he slid onto the barstool.
“Do I?” Regulus replied, and he gave a short, sharp laugh. “Well, I didn’t ask you to meet me here so that you could start an intervention.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Of course you weren’t.”
Regulus snorted and signalled the old barman to bring over two firewhiskeys, quickly downing the last of the ale in his tumbler. Snape watched him wordlessly, thin lips pulled down into a frown.
Internally, Regulus was quite relieved that Snape had actually turned up to meet him; he wasn’t sure that he would, given their history, along with current events. Sirius had been mirthless to Snape during their first year at Hogwarts, and when Regulus started school the next year, Snape didn’t exactly have high expectations for him. It was unfortunate, because Regulus thought Snape could be very brilliant sometimes and continually tried to befriend him.
In the beginning, his attempts didn’t work so well. Snape treated Regulus with the same contempt that he usually reserved for Sirius and the other Gryffindors. Though Bella permitted Regulus to hang around her friends on several occasions, Snape hardly even tolerated him. Regulus tried very hard during the next six years to prove himself different from Sirius, and finally, during his fifth year, Snape warmed up to him. Barely.
“So how have you been?” Regulus asked casually. The barman placed flaming drinks down on the counter in front of them, and he nodded at him, waiting for Snape’s response.
Snape did not respond, however, and merely stared at the drinks contemplatively. Regulus wondered if he'd managed to catch Snape in one of his surlier moods, it would certainly flow with the run of luck he’d been having lately. He bit his lip and watched the orange flames reflecting in Snape's black eyes, the only sign of life there. Regulus pondered whether or not his own eyes looked that dead as well, and shivered. He hoped not.
Suddenly, Snape made a move to blow out the flames on his drink. He then picked up his tumbler and held it steady with his spidery hands. Regulus followed suit, quickly blowing out the fire before all of the alcohol burned away.
Snape sipped at his whiskey, looking as though he was slowly relishing its taste, and finally answered Regulus' question. “Fine.”
So it was going to be one of the surly days, Regulus realized grimly. He’d best try to work through it, he decided and attempted to make a little conversation in an effort to warm Snape up to the reason his presence was requested in the first place. “I didn’t see you at Bellatrix’s wedding. You missed a…remarkable celebration.” And that was putting it mildly.
“I had a prior engagement. I owled them about it.”
“Ah, right then. Anything interesting?”
“I doubt that it would interest you.” Snape said, eyeing Regulus over the rim of his glass. Regulus frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes.
It didn't seem to bother Snape in the least.
They sat in what Regulus thought of as uncomfortable silence and sipped on their whiskey, ignoring the cackles and shouts coming from the table of goblins. Finally, Severus turned towards Regulus and fixed him with a penetrating gaze.
“Are you planning on telling me exactly why you asked me here?” His voice was soft and tired-sounding, but there was enough of an edge in it to make Regulus feel defensive.
“Did you have other plans?” he replied hotly, slamming his tumbler down onto the counter with a thunk. Again, he’d been rolling balls out of his napkin, and the force of his tumbler hitting the counter sent the balls scattering across the countertop and onto the floor.
Snape’s face was rigid. He stood up gave Regulus a scathing look. “I have much better things to do then sit here in a pub with a drunk, spoiled, arrogant little-"
This wasn’t going at all how Regulus planned. He raised his palms in submission and shook his head urgently. “Severus, no. Please don’t go. My apologies.” He silently reprimanded himself for allowing himself to be manipulated by Snape's tone.
Severus didn’t reply. Instead, he glared at Regulus, his long fingers drumming the counter steadily.
“You’re here because-well, I wanted to ask you…” Regulus wasn’t quite sure that he could say it. “The thing is, Severus, I’ve been asked to do something for the Dar-“
He couldn’t finish, however, because Snape swiftly grabbed the collar of his robes and jerked him forward. Regulus could smell the firewhiskey on Snape’s breath, acidic and stale. He shrank away, attempting to resist Snape’s grip, but the older Death Eater had him in a tight grip.
“Are you mad?” Snape snarled.
“Am I mad? What are you doing?”
“You asked me to meet you at a pub,” Snape hissed, jerking his head to the other patrons, most of whom were staring at the boys curiously, “to discuss certain business that should not be discussed publicly?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly.” Snape yanked Regulus up onto his feet, throwing a couple of coins upon the bar before loosening his grip. “Follow me. Now.” Regulus stared at him; knowing fully well that his mouth was hanging agape. Where was Snape taking him? With one last look of longing at his whiskey, he straightened his robes and turned towards Snape, who was already halfway out the door. Heaving a heavy sigh, Regulus followed him, trying to steady himself as the room seemed to turn onto its side. Perhaps he was more than half-pissed.
They exited the pub. Snape turned left at the corner, away from the line of shops and the usual strip that most frequented in Knockturn Alley. Regulus staggered behind him in a half-jog, ignoring the hag in the corner who tugged on his cloak, asking for spare change.
“I’ll hex you lot!” she cried threateningly after them, shaking a bony fist.
There was barely a trickle of light coming from the streetlamps, and the farther that Snape blazed through the alleys, the less light there was to lead the way. Regulus nearly fell onto the ground as he tried to even his pace with Severus’s.
“Where are we going?” he panted.
“Away from prying eyes.”
Snape took them through a maze of alleys that Regulus had never seen before. In one long alley it seemed that there were voices whispering out to them from the brick walls. Regulus had frequented Knockturn Alley since his younger years, but he had never been in this area before, and found himself feeling slightly anxious. He was about to ask Snape if he heard the voices too, but one steely glare from him was enough to convince Regulus to keep his mouth clamped shut.
Finally, after rounding two more corners, Snape spun around and faced him. They were standing in a dimly lit corner, behind a large trash bin.
“Oh, now, couldn’t you have found a better space than this?” Regulus asked, trying to conceal his worry by replacing it with haughtiness, wrinkling his nose at the stench of rotting food and Merlin knows what else.
“No.”
Regulus’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Right, well…”
“Spit it out, Black.”
“He’s asked me to-he’s assigned me the task of…” His voice faltered. The weight of the words was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them.
“You’re trying my patience.”
Regulus thought back to his summons to the Dark Lord. He had expected to apparate into the usual circle of Death Eaters, and was surprised to find himself alone with his own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. Regulus had always been somewhat apprehensive around Bellatrix. Even during her childhood she possessed a vicious temper, and now that she was one of Voldemort’s most devoted followers it had only gotten worse. Regulus knew that if he respected her and stayed out of her hair, they could get along without much of a problem.
The Dark Lord has plans for you, she had told him. Then she explained to Regulus that he was to arrange a meeting with Sirius to try to find out where the Potters were living. Tell him you’re seeking reconciliation so that he’ll see you, she ordered, and continued to indulge him in his special ‘duty’ for the Dark Order. If Sirius was unwilling to give out the information, Regulus was to torture it out of him. Oh, don’t look at me like that Reggie, Bellatrix had scolded, mocking him with his pet name, he abandoned you a long time ago. Potter is his brother now. You should be grateful for this opportunity.
In the end, information or no, he was to kill Sirius. It would be the message that the Potters needed.
Bella had told him all of this without even blinking an eye. Obviously, the death of her cousin didn’t faze her at all. Regulus on the other hand…after she had disapparated, he’d retched behind a tree.
Regulus blinked his eyes and focused on his current situation and Snape. “It’s Sirius, Snape. He’s asked me to take care of Sirius.” Regulus’s voice was tight with urgency.
“Take care of him?” Severus repeated slowly, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m assuming that you’re not supposed to take care of him in a matronly sense.” His mouth twisted up into a caustic smirk.
A flush started to creep up Regulus’s neck. “How dare you make jokes at my expense?”
“I do what I please.”
Regulus glared at Snape, sincerely regretting his decision to ask his old housemate for advice. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. He was really the only person that Regulus felt he could trust with such a problem. Snape had always been the most logical person in Slytherin house.
“I shouldn’t have asked you here,” he replied bitterly.
“But you did.”
“Yes, well, I never said that I was intelligent.”
“You’re certainly not acting like it at the moment,” Snape replied.
“I can’t do it, Snape. He’s my brother. We may not have always gotten along, but I can’t kill him.”
His thoughts flickered back to when the Black boys were young-when he trailed Sirius around incessantly. Regulus had respected Sirius so much then, and even when Sirius left the family Regulus was left with a hollow sadness. He may have attempted to fill the void up with disdain and spite, but his love for his brother was there. The Black blood still ran deep in both of their veins, whether Sirius wanted to claim it or not.
“One does not simply turn down orders from the Dark Lord, Regulus.”
“I know that.”
Severus took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. “He’ll find you if you decide to run.”
“I know that, too,” Regulus replied, and he looked at the ground as his voice cracked. He felt the overwhelming urge to disapparate to nowhere-nothingness. Perhaps I can manage to splinch myself.
“Don’t be a dolt,” Severus said, almost as if he could read Regulus’ thoughts. “You have to carry out the orders.”
“But you don’t understand. I can’t.”
“Of course you can.” Snape spoke slowly and evenly. “Unless you get caught or killed in the process.”
Regulus reflected on this statement grimly. It was true--unless he murdered his brother, he would be sacrificing his own life. He had never bargained for this when he decided to join the Dark Army.
“So that’s it? I either set myself up for life in Azkaban or death?”
He wondered, briefly, what Sirius would do. This wouldn’t be adolescent duelling anymore; it would be a fight for life and death.
“Or murder Sirius, which isn’t exactly a bad option,” Snape replied dryly.
“How can you have a sense of humour about this?”
“I wasn’t kidding.”
Irritated with Snape’s blasé attitude about the whole affair, Regulus approached him quickly, balling his fists. “I warned you, Snape,” he said loudly, pulling back his fist, ready to give Snape any extra convincing that he might need.
BANG! He was caught completely off guard. In a matter of seconds, Snape had drawn his wand and Regulus was flying back through the air, directly into the trash bin. His face collided with the cool metal, and he fell onto the pavement, grunting in pain. A warm trickle of blood began to flow out of his nose, and his head was throbbing. A string of curse words erupted out of his mouth, and he could hear Snape snort in amusement.
Regulus slowly blinked his eyes, trying to regain his already distorted focus. He could just make out Snape before him, wand pointed at Regulus’s throat.
“I advise you not to try to hit me again, Black.”
Regulus pushed himself up into sitting position. “You’re a bastard.”
Snape snorted softly. “Perhaps.” He tilted his head to the side and added, “You need to be level-headed right now, Black. Don’t let your emotions get tied up into all of this. You need to think of yourself--and your brother--if you really want to save him.” Snape’s lip had curled up slightly upon mentioning Sirius.
“Maybe I’ll run,” Regulus said, wiping the back of his hand underneath his nose and smearing the blood across his cheek. “I could leave the night before I’m supposed to do it.”
“I already told you that he’d catch you.”
“No, don’t you see? I have to take the chance.”
“Don’t do it, Regulus. The Dark Lord knows, he always knows.” Snape dropped his wand to his side.
“I have no other choice!”
Snape looked very serious; his eyebrows were furrowed together and his right arm twitched slightly. He held it out towards Regulus. “It’s your choice to make, but I’m warning you, you may stand a better chance if you allow yourself to be captured by the Aurors.”
“And risk the Black family name?” Regulus asked incredulously as Snape helped him to his feet.
“Don’t you think your life is more important than your family’s reputation?” Snape asked coldly. “Everything will come out in the end, and your family is not exactly what one would consider uninvolved.”
Regulus bristled. “You know nothing about reputation.”
“I care nothing for reputation.”
‘That,’ Regulus thought, ‘is an understatement.’
“I care about my family enough not to besmirch their name like Sirius and Andromeda. That’s why I asked you for your advice, though, now that I think about it, perhaps you weren’t the best one to ask.” He shook his head fervently. “I’m not going to go through with this.”
“Which wasn’t my advice.” Snape looked at Regulus irritably. “Fine,” he sighed, “you go on and run. Do what you want, it’s no use wasting any more breath arguing this over with you.” He turned to leave, and Regulus, seizing what might be his last opportunity, quickly called out to him.
“Snape,” he pleaded, his voice faltering, “if something happens, and-I think we both know it will…if I die, promise me something…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Sirius can’t find out. I don’t want him to know that he was involved in this. Don’t tell him.” He didn’t want his brother to agonize over his death and their failed relationship, if he indeed cared enough to do so. Regulus was well aware that dealing with disdain was much easier than dealing with regret.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Regulus replied with a grim smile.
Snape regarded Regulus silently for a moment, and he looked like he was really deliberating on what to say next. “Be careful, Regulus.” Then he turned to leave, blending into the dark shadows, robes billowing out behind him.
Regulus replied with a bitter laugh, watching Snape’s figure skulk out of the alley.
It was the last time they ever spoke.
*****
The Death Eaters surrounded him, calling out names like traitor and coward, but by then it had little effect on Regulus. He had firmly resolved to do what he thought was right, he’d gotten himself into deep trouble, anyhow. He raised his sharp chin valiantly, surveying the group with what little time he had. Was Snape there? he wondered. Could he even have been the one to tell the Dark Lord that Regulus had directly disobeyed his orders?
No, Regulus’s fingers clamped around his wand, and he squeezed it tightly. Snape hadn’t betrayed him; somehow he knew that. The two Slytherin boys had much in common, and after their last meeting Regulus suspected that Snape was also losing sympathy for the Dark Lord’s cause. Perhaps it was Bella who’d told on him…maybe even Barty, who’d been very curious about Regulus’ whereabouts recently.
Regulus was, however, unsure as to whether or not Snape was one of the Death Eaters in the present group. After all, Snape was smart enough not to disobey orders.
His old comrades tightened their circle surrounding him, and a few had already started to shoot small curses at him, burns and boils. Regulus stared through their masks desperately, hoping to recognize a pair of glittering black eyes, and strained his ears for the whisper of a sneer. Even as they began to torture Regulus with the Unforgivable Curses-curses that he had used countless times upon the Dark Lord's instructions-he attempted to identify them.
Was that Bellatrix’s laugh he heard?
As his body contorted he managed to catch a glimpse of a blonde hair just visible through the holes in a member’s mask.
Lucius?
Or Barty?
His body dropped to the ground, into a giant puddle left from the recent rain. He struggled to raise his head, and a hazy, battered, but familiar face looked back at him.
Sirius?
No, he realized with a mingled sense of sorrow and relief, it wasn't Sirius. It was his reflection. Sirius was safe; at least, he hoped so.
Regulus righted himself slowly, standing defiantly in the spot where his reflection had been, hoping that his death would not be in vain. He faced the circle of Death Eaters bravely.
He would accept his death.
It was for his family, after all.
Thicker Than Water
Rated: PG-13
Characters: Regulus Black, Severus Snape
Summary:
Thicker Than Water
October 2004
Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine; they belong to JK Rowling.
Many years later, Sirius Black would mention his brother Regulus’ death to Harry Potter with a mixture of pity and vehemence….
“No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, more likely, I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death.”
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, JK Rowling, Scholastic Press, pg. 112
If he’d only known the circumstances behind Regulus’ refusal and subsequent death…
‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ Regulus thought, slumping over on his barstool pitifully.
He was in a pub located in the infamous Knockturn Alley, not exactly a local hotspot for young wizards and witches. The old, dingy place was hardly set up for families of respectable status. The dozen round tables that were scattered haphazardly throughout the floor were certainly questionable; some wobbled every time a patron came through the door, others had a layer of grime so thick that it took several attempts to pull one’s tankard off of the tabletop. Regulus hadn’t been keen on sitting at one of them, which was why he had taken a seat at the bar, which was only marginally better in upkeep, frankly.
The other patrons seemed not to mind, however, though this was likely because they were a rather shifty-looking bunch. To Regulus’ right was a table of goblins playing a betting game, and they were playing vehemently, throwing coins at each other and shouting what Regulus could only assume were curse words in Gobbledegook. A grumpy old wizard whose face was barely visible behind his hair, eyebrows, and beard was near the fireplace, and a witch who’d made several attempts for everyone in the bar (including the Goblins) to buy her a drink was now sulking in the corner and picking her nose with a knobbly finger. All of them, including Regulus, were seated far away from a figure sitting at a table near the windows. He was very pale, with dark hair and a large widow’s peak, and if Regulus were a goblin, he’d have been placing bets on the man being a vampire. The other folks must have thought so too, which would explain the distance. None of them fancied being the one to find out for certain.
Regulus took a long, healthy swig of ale. He had been doing this for over an hour already, and though he wasn’t out and out drunk, he concluded that he was what Rosier would have termed “half-pissed.” One of his thin hands clutched his tumbler tightly, and the other idly tore the edges of his napkin away and rolled them into small balls. Most of the napkin was gone now, and he brushed the scraps off the bar with his left forearm, trying to ignore the familiar tingle of a certain mark that was hidden under his sleeve. It was hard to do.
He let out a low hiss of air and tore his gaze away from his ale long enough to survey his surroundings. Just beyond the counter there was an old mirror hanging behind rows of musty liquor bottles. One large, crooked crack ran down from the right corner, cutting Regulus’s reflection at the shoulder. He really did look terrible, he realized. His blue-grey eyes were bloodshot and ringed with unhealthy shadows. Worry lined the pale slate of his forehead and formed a deep crease between his brows. The fact that he hadn’t shaved for a few days wasn’t helping his case any, either.
As he reflected on his appearance, it suddenly dawned on him that he looked quite a bit like his father. Surprisingly, he found the thought a bit unnerving, where once he would have thought it to be admirable.
His distinguished Black looks were going to pot with lack of care and a bit of the drink. His mother would be appalled. 'Merlin, help me,' he thought, and quickly lifted his glass to his lips.
At least no one would be confusing him with Sirius. The two brothers looked quite similar, although Regulus was shorter, with sharper features and bluer eyes. Even during his schooling, the professors would slip up and call him Sirius--something that neither brother took as a compliment.
Of course, Regulus thought, Sirius was partly to blame for his current state of appearance. He took a quick swig of ale and shook his head. Well, perhaps not. Regulus’ current predicament was purely his own fault, and he sincerely doubted that there would be any solution. Blast.
“Black.”
The voice broke Regulus out of his reverie, and he quickly spun around to see its source. Severus Snape stood before him, looking dark and menacing, though perhaps more irritable than menacing. His own face was gaunt and shadowed, and he looked like he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks.
“Snape,” Regulus greeted him gruffly, waving to the empty seat next to him. “I’m pleased you decided to come. Have a seat, I’ll buy us a drink.”
“You look like you don’t need anything more to drink,” Snape replied, but he slid onto the barstool.
“Do I?” Regulus replied, and he gave a short, sharp laugh. “Well, I didn’t ask you to meet me here so that you could start an intervention.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Of course you weren’t.”
Regulus snorted and signalled the old barman to bring over two firewhiskeys, quickly downing the last of the ale in his tumbler. Snape watched him wordlessly, thin lips pulled down into a frown.
Internally, Regulus was quite relieved that Snape had actually turned up to meet him; he wasn’t sure that he would, given their history, along with current events. Sirius had been mirthless to Snape during their first year at Hogwarts, and when Regulus started school the next year, Snape didn’t exactly have high expectations for him. It was unfortunate, because Regulus thought Snape could be very brilliant sometimes and continually tried to befriend him.
In the beginning, his attempts didn’t work so well. Snape treated Regulus with the same contempt that he usually reserved for Sirius and the other Gryffindors. Though Bella permitted Regulus to hang around her friends on several occasions, Snape hardly even tolerated him. Regulus tried very hard during the next six years to prove himself different from Sirius, and finally, during his fifth year, Snape warmed up to him. Barely.
“So how have you been?” Regulus asked casually. The barman placed flaming drinks down on the counter in front of them, and he nodded at him, waiting for Snape’s response.
Snape did not respond, however, and merely stared at the drinks contemplatively. Regulus wondered if he'd managed to catch Snape in one of his surlier moods, it would certainly flow with the run of luck he’d been having lately. He bit his lip and watched the orange flames reflecting in Snape's black eyes, the only sign of life there. Regulus pondered whether or not his own eyes looked that dead as well, and shivered. He hoped not.
Suddenly, Snape made a move to blow out the flames on his drink. He then picked up his tumbler and held it steady with his spidery hands. Regulus followed suit, quickly blowing out the fire before all of the alcohol burned away.
Snape sipped at his whiskey, looking as though he was slowly relishing its taste, and finally answered Regulus' question. “Fine.”
So it was going to be one of the surly days, Regulus realized grimly. He’d best try to work through it, he decided and attempted to make a little conversation in an effort to warm Snape up to the reason his presence was requested in the first place. “I didn’t see you at Bellatrix’s wedding. You missed a…remarkable celebration.” And that was putting it mildly.
“I had a prior engagement. I owled them about it.”
“Ah, right then. Anything interesting?”
“I doubt that it would interest you.” Snape said, eyeing Regulus over the rim of his glass. Regulus frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes.
It didn't seem to bother Snape in the least.
They sat in what Regulus thought of as uncomfortable silence and sipped on their whiskey, ignoring the cackles and shouts coming from the table of goblins. Finally, Severus turned towards Regulus and fixed him with a penetrating gaze.
“Are you planning on telling me exactly why you asked me here?” His voice was soft and tired-sounding, but there was enough of an edge in it to make Regulus feel defensive.
“Did you have other plans?” he replied hotly, slamming his tumbler down onto the counter with a thunk. Again, he’d been rolling balls out of his napkin, and the force of his tumbler hitting the counter sent the balls scattering across the countertop and onto the floor.
Snape’s face was rigid. He stood up gave Regulus a scathing look. “I have much better things to do then sit here in a pub with a drunk, spoiled, arrogant little-"
This wasn’t going at all how Regulus planned. He raised his palms in submission and shook his head urgently. “Severus, no. Please don’t go. My apologies.” He silently reprimanded himself for allowing himself to be manipulated by Snape's tone.
Severus didn’t reply. Instead, he glared at Regulus, his long fingers drumming the counter steadily.
“You’re here because-well, I wanted to ask you…” Regulus wasn’t quite sure that he could say it. “The thing is, Severus, I’ve been asked to do something for the Dar-“
He couldn’t finish, however, because Snape swiftly grabbed the collar of his robes and jerked him forward. Regulus could smell the firewhiskey on Snape’s breath, acidic and stale. He shrank away, attempting to resist Snape’s grip, but the older Death Eater had him in a tight grip.
“Are you mad?” Snape snarled.
“Am I mad? What are you doing?”
“You asked me to meet you at a pub,” Snape hissed, jerking his head to the other patrons, most of whom were staring at the boys curiously, “to discuss certain business that should not be discussed publicly?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly.” Snape yanked Regulus up onto his feet, throwing a couple of coins upon the bar before loosening his grip. “Follow me. Now.” Regulus stared at him; knowing fully well that his mouth was hanging agape. Where was Snape taking him? With one last look of longing at his whiskey, he straightened his robes and turned towards Snape, who was already halfway out the door. Heaving a heavy sigh, Regulus followed him, trying to steady himself as the room seemed to turn onto its side. Perhaps he was more than half-pissed.
They exited the pub. Snape turned left at the corner, away from the line of shops and the usual strip that most frequented in Knockturn Alley. Regulus staggered behind him in a half-jog, ignoring the hag in the corner who tugged on his cloak, asking for spare change.
“I’ll hex you lot!” she cried threateningly after them, shaking a bony fist.
There was barely a trickle of light coming from the streetlamps, and the farther that Snape blazed through the alleys, the less light there was to lead the way. Regulus nearly fell onto the ground as he tried to even his pace with Severus’s.
“Where are we going?” he panted.
“Away from prying eyes.”
Snape took them through a maze of alleys that Regulus had never seen before. In one long alley it seemed that there were voices whispering out to them from the brick walls. Regulus had frequented Knockturn Alley since his younger years, but he had never been in this area before, and found himself feeling slightly anxious. He was about to ask Snape if he heard the voices too, but one steely glare from him was enough to convince Regulus to keep his mouth clamped shut.
Finally, after rounding two more corners, Snape spun around and faced him. They were standing in a dimly lit corner, behind a large trash bin.
“Oh, now, couldn’t you have found a better space than this?” Regulus asked, trying to conceal his worry by replacing it with haughtiness, wrinkling his nose at the stench of rotting food and Merlin knows what else.
“No.”
Regulus’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Right, well…”
“Spit it out, Black.”
“He’s asked me to-he’s assigned me the task of…” His voice faltered. The weight of the words was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak them.
“You’re trying my patience.”
Regulus thought back to his summons to the Dark Lord. He had expected to apparate into the usual circle of Death Eaters, and was surprised to find himself alone with his own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. Regulus had always been somewhat apprehensive around Bellatrix. Even during her childhood she possessed a vicious temper, and now that she was one of Voldemort’s most devoted followers it had only gotten worse. Regulus knew that if he respected her and stayed out of her hair, they could get along without much of a problem.
The Dark Lord has plans for you, she had told him. Then she explained to Regulus that he was to arrange a meeting with Sirius to try to find out where the Potters were living. Tell him you’re seeking reconciliation so that he’ll see you, she ordered, and continued to indulge him in his special ‘duty’ for the Dark Order. If Sirius was unwilling to give out the information, Regulus was to torture it out of him. Oh, don’t look at me like that Reggie, Bellatrix had scolded, mocking him with his pet name, he abandoned you a long time ago. Potter is his brother now. You should be grateful for this opportunity.
In the end, information or no, he was to kill Sirius. It would be the message that the Potters needed.
Bella had told him all of this without even blinking an eye. Obviously, the death of her cousin didn’t faze her at all. Regulus on the other hand…after she had disapparated, he’d retched behind a tree.
Regulus blinked his eyes and focused on his current situation and Snape. “It’s Sirius, Snape. He’s asked me to take care of Sirius.” Regulus’s voice was tight with urgency.
“Take care of him?” Severus repeated slowly, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m assuming that you’re not supposed to take care of him in a matronly sense.” His mouth twisted up into a caustic smirk.
A flush started to creep up Regulus’s neck. “How dare you make jokes at my expense?”
“I do what I please.”
Regulus glared at Snape, sincerely regretting his decision to ask his old housemate for advice. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. He was really the only person that Regulus felt he could trust with such a problem. Snape had always been the most logical person in Slytherin house.
“I shouldn’t have asked you here,” he replied bitterly.
“But you did.”
“Yes, well, I never said that I was intelligent.”
“You’re certainly not acting like it at the moment,” Snape replied.
“I can’t do it, Snape. He’s my brother. We may not have always gotten along, but I can’t kill him.”
His thoughts flickered back to when the Black boys were young-when he trailed Sirius around incessantly. Regulus had respected Sirius so much then, and even when Sirius left the family Regulus was left with a hollow sadness. He may have attempted to fill the void up with disdain and spite, but his love for his brother was there. The Black blood still ran deep in both of their veins, whether Sirius wanted to claim it or not.
“One does not simply turn down orders from the Dark Lord, Regulus.”
“I know that.”
Severus took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. “He’ll find you if you decide to run.”
“I know that, too,” Regulus replied, and he looked at the ground as his voice cracked. He felt the overwhelming urge to disapparate to nowhere-nothingness. Perhaps I can manage to splinch myself.
“Don’t be a dolt,” Severus said, almost as if he could read Regulus’ thoughts. “You have to carry out the orders.”
“But you don’t understand. I can’t.”
“Of course you can.” Snape spoke slowly and evenly. “Unless you get caught or killed in the process.”
Regulus reflected on this statement grimly. It was true--unless he murdered his brother, he would be sacrificing his own life. He had never bargained for this when he decided to join the Dark Army.
“So that’s it? I either set myself up for life in Azkaban or death?”
He wondered, briefly, what Sirius would do. This wouldn’t be adolescent duelling anymore; it would be a fight for life and death.
“Or murder Sirius, which isn’t exactly a bad option,” Snape replied dryly.
“How can you have a sense of humour about this?”
“I wasn’t kidding.”
Irritated with Snape’s blasé attitude about the whole affair, Regulus approached him quickly, balling his fists. “I warned you, Snape,” he said loudly, pulling back his fist, ready to give Snape any extra convincing that he might need.
BANG! He was caught completely off guard. In a matter of seconds, Snape had drawn his wand and Regulus was flying back through the air, directly into the trash bin. His face collided with the cool metal, and he fell onto the pavement, grunting in pain. A warm trickle of blood began to flow out of his nose, and his head was throbbing. A string of curse words erupted out of his mouth, and he could hear Snape snort in amusement.
Regulus slowly blinked his eyes, trying to regain his already distorted focus. He could just make out Snape before him, wand pointed at Regulus’s throat.
“I advise you not to try to hit me again, Black.”
Regulus pushed himself up into sitting position. “You’re a bastard.”
Snape snorted softly. “Perhaps.” He tilted his head to the side and added, “You need to be level-headed right now, Black. Don’t let your emotions get tied up into all of this. You need to think of yourself--and your brother--if you really want to save him.” Snape’s lip had curled up slightly upon mentioning Sirius.
“Maybe I’ll run,” Regulus said, wiping the back of his hand underneath his nose and smearing the blood across his cheek. “I could leave the night before I’m supposed to do it.”
“I already told you that he’d catch you.”
“No, don’t you see? I have to take the chance.”
“Don’t do it, Regulus. The Dark Lord knows, he always knows.” Snape dropped his wand to his side.
“I have no other choice!”
Snape looked very serious; his eyebrows were furrowed together and his right arm twitched slightly. He held it out towards Regulus. “It’s your choice to make, but I’m warning you, you may stand a better chance if you allow yourself to be captured by the Aurors.”
“And risk the Black family name?” Regulus asked incredulously as Snape helped him to his feet.
“Don’t you think your life is more important than your family’s reputation?” Snape asked coldly. “Everything will come out in the end, and your family is not exactly what one would consider uninvolved.”
Regulus bristled. “You know nothing about reputation.”
“I care nothing for reputation.”
‘That,’ Regulus thought, ‘is an understatement.’
“I care about my family enough not to besmirch their name like Sirius and Andromeda. That’s why I asked you for your advice, though, now that I think about it, perhaps you weren’t the best one to ask.” He shook his head fervently. “I’m not going to go through with this.”
“Which wasn’t my advice.” Snape looked at Regulus irritably. “Fine,” he sighed, “you go on and run. Do what you want, it’s no use wasting any more breath arguing this over with you.” He turned to leave, and Regulus, seizing what might be his last opportunity, quickly called out to him.
“Snape,” he pleaded, his voice faltering, “if something happens, and-I think we both know it will…if I die, promise me something…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Sirius can’t find out. I don’t want him to know that he was involved in this. Don’t tell him.” He didn’t want his brother to agonize over his death and their failed relationship, if he indeed cared enough to do so. Regulus was well aware that dealing with disdain was much easier than dealing with regret.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Regulus replied with a grim smile.
Snape regarded Regulus silently for a moment, and he looked like he was really deliberating on what to say next. “Be careful, Regulus.” Then he turned to leave, blending into the dark shadows, robes billowing out behind him.
Regulus replied with a bitter laugh, watching Snape’s figure skulk out of the alley.
It was the last time they ever spoke.
*****
The Death Eaters surrounded him, calling out names like traitor and coward, but by then it had little effect on Regulus. He had firmly resolved to do what he thought was right, he’d gotten himself into deep trouble, anyhow. He raised his sharp chin valiantly, surveying the group with what little time he had. Was Snape there? he wondered. Could he even have been the one to tell the Dark Lord that Regulus had directly disobeyed his orders?
No, Regulus’s fingers clamped around his wand, and he squeezed it tightly. Snape hadn’t betrayed him; somehow he knew that. The two Slytherin boys had much in common, and after their last meeting Regulus suspected that Snape was also losing sympathy for the Dark Lord’s cause. Perhaps it was Bella who’d told on him…maybe even Barty, who’d been very curious about Regulus’ whereabouts recently.
Regulus was, however, unsure as to whether or not Snape was one of the Death Eaters in the present group. After all, Snape was smart enough not to disobey orders.
His old comrades tightened their circle surrounding him, and a few had already started to shoot small curses at him, burns and boils. Regulus stared through their masks desperately, hoping to recognize a pair of glittering black eyes, and strained his ears for the whisper of a sneer. Even as they began to torture Regulus with the Unforgivable Curses-curses that he had used countless times upon the Dark Lord's instructions-he attempted to identify them.
Was that Bellatrix’s laugh he heard?
As his body contorted he managed to catch a glimpse of a blonde hair just visible through the holes in a member’s mask.
Lucius?
Or Barty?
His body dropped to the ground, into a giant puddle left from the recent rain. He struggled to raise his head, and a hazy, battered, but familiar face looked back at him.
Sirius?
No, he realized with a mingled sense of sorrow and relief, it wasn't Sirius. It was his reflection. Sirius was safe; at least, he hoped so.
Regulus righted himself slowly, standing defiantly in the spot where his reflection had been, hoping that his death would not be in vain. He faced the circle of Death Eaters bravely.
He would accept his death.
It was for his family, after all.