Black Rose [Regulus Black]

42 - crazy women & destroyed houses

"Kreacher," Regulus wheezed, rushing towards the door. His mind was racing with a million things he could do to salvage the situation — send a Patronus to her, send Kreacher to her, set the bloody house on fire — but his movements were too sluggish, too slow, like molasses had replaced the blood in his body. "Kreacher, Kreacher, go to-"

He heard the door open below.

He swore loudly as he collided with the door frame, pain shooting up the center of his face. Behind him, Kreacher squawked. Spots were now starting to dance across his eyes but he ignored it, haphazardly making his way across the hall, hot fluid trickling down his face now but it didn't matter, it didn't matter, as long as his worst nightmare appeared to be taking place.

He swung into the drawing room... to see a gathering around the table.

Bellatrix. Lucius. Rodolphus. Rabastan. All of whom looked like cats that got the cream.

Barty, who looked enraged.

Evan, who looked enraged, but a different kind of mad.

And finally, his mother. His mother, who he'd always held out hope for. There was no hope of pitting her against the Dark Lord, but he'd always hoped she'd always have enough love for him as a son. Maybe it wasn't enough for his needs, but he hoped it was enough for hers. 

It dawned on Regulus that up till then, his mother was the one he'd placed the most faith in. He hadn't realized it till then, but Dumbledore or Sirius or even Alessandra weren't the ones he'd put the most confidence in. It was his mother, and the stupid belief he clung to that her love for him would be unconditional.

Sirius was right all along.

"How could you," he choked out. A hot betrayal, worse than anything he'd felt when Sirius snuck out that summer night and never came back, was invading his senses, overwhelming the bright spots that had taken over his vision.

"It's for the better," Walburga whispered, her voice the softest he'd ever heard it in the 20 years of his miserable existence. What a wonderful birthday gift.

"Better for who?" he demanded. "Certainly not for me or for you - he's going to finish us now."

"He won't," she insisted. "He promised immunity for the truth."

Brainwashed, they all were.

Brainwashed, he was once, but the shroud covering his eyes had been lifted too late.

The others drew their wands as footsteps neared the room, and Regulus' body was filled with even more horror than he'd ever deemed possible. Green eyes met with grey, confusion warring with sheer, paralyzing fear.

Why couldn't he move?

"Reg?" Alessandra demanded, moving towards him. "What's happening?"

"Stand back," Lucius raised his wand. Alessandra stepped back, squaring her shoulders as though preparing for the fight. "This is who you chose to taint your blood with, Regulus? A Muggle girl claiming to have access to a Sacred Twenty Eight Family's wealth?"

"Couldn't you have chosen someone less plain?" Rabastan leered, taking a step forward towards Alessandra. "I can see the appeal, a plain, innocent girl...but couldn't you have risked it all for something a little more...lively?"

"Don't worry, Reggie," Bellatrix cackled, using her wand to curl a strand of Alessandra's hair. Her eyes were so dead yet simultaneously filled with that manic light that never seemed to go out. "The Dark Lord won't kill her just yet, so you can get a few parting moments here and there before she's done."

"He seemed interested in her background," Crouch muttered, eyes narrowed on Al. "Interesting toy you've got there."

Fuck. The Dark Lord knew.