high adventure! → regulus black ✓

[7] the dark mark

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REGULUS WOKE UP EARLY that next morning to a painful yet familiar burning sensation coursing through his left forearm. His teeth dug into his bottom lip to keep from crying out as the pain persisted, and when it finally let up, he stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. It had been doing that at least once a day, surely as Voldemort's desperation to find him got worse and worse. The pain he could deal with, but the constant reminder of who he had been back then? Not so much.

With each burst of pain came the reminder that, yes, he had willingly thrown himself into the world of the Death Eaters. He had willingly tortured and even killed innocent people who didn't deserve what was given to them. He hurt people because of their blood status, which didn't make a damned bit of difference as to who they were. Muggle-borns, half-bloods, muggles...their blood status didn't determine whether they were worthy for life or not. Stella, for example, was a muggle, yet she was far more worthy of life than many pure-bloods he knew, perhaps even himself.

He had found himself thinking about the blonde quite a bit since they had met, though he had excused it as merely being a product of their situation, for they were stuck with one another day and night. As he sat there, holding his arm and reeling in the aftermath of the pain, though, he realized it wasn't just that; there was something about the girl that drew him in. Her delicate features, her shining blue eyes, her soft lips—

He shook away his thoughts and abruptly stood from the bed, though his healing wound didn't seem too happy with that decision, and he winced in pain. It felt far better than it had the day before, but that didn't mean he was completely healed—it would have to be enough to travel, though.

Regulus walked into the living room to find Stella still laying peacefully on the mattress Sirius had set up shortly after their initial arrival. He couldn't help but stare for just a moment before pulling himself away and into the kitchen, where his brother was making breakfast.

"Morning sunshine," said Sirius sarcastically as Regulus took a seat at the table.
"All right?"

"Just dandy," mumbled Regulus, letting his head fall into his hands.
"Blimey, I hate mornings." Sirius snorted, glancing over his shoulder at his younger brother.

"You always did. You didn't have to get up early, you know. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but we'll leave after breakfast. Besides, that's not why I'm awake this early anyway. Would've slept another hour if it weren't for the bloody Dark Mark." He removed his hands from his head and gestured vaguely to the snake and skull on his left forearm.

"It's still aching you?" asked a concerned Sirius, turning from the stove to the table as he set out the bacon, eggs, and toast he had prepared, placing it all beside the plates, silverware, and mugs of fresh coffee. He sat down and the two served themselves breakfast.

"It comes and goes. It's like...it's as if he's trying to summon me."

"He's desperate. Damn, brother, you must've been one of his most valuable followers."

"I was. I was low in the ranks, sure, but he had been relying on me more before I left, and being a pure-blood from a respectable family I was his sort of Golden Boy. If he had emotions, he would have seen me like a son."

"Do you think they're looking to make you one of them again?" Regulus nodded.

"Definitely. Dolohov would've killed me on that train if they weren't. I won't do it, though, I never would."