Chapter Text
Part one: the evil you know
-*-*-*-
‘You came for help.’
‘You told us Hogwarts would always be a home for those in need. I require it.’
‘I was told you were quite comfortable with the current arrangements.’
‘You must have misunderstood. I… I need to get away from him. He is more dangerous than I thought. ’
‘You wish to leave him?’
‘I need a place where I can be safe. I can offer you valuable information in exchange. It will change the tides of this war.'
‘Tell me more.’
-*-*-*-
December 1982
Hips pushed against his, a hand was around his throat, bruising the delicate flesh while teeth dug into the softness of his shoulder, drawing blood before a greedy tongue lapped it up. Moans filled his ears while the scent of sex and blood prickled his senses. His eyes were focused on the ceiling. He was counting the stars floating above him. Magic kept them twinkling and glimmering.
One.
Two.
Three.
Hands grabbed his hips, pulling him roughly closer, and he couldn’t stop the hiss leaving his lips when a sharp burn peaked between his thighs. A tongue slowly ran over his cheek and nipped at his cheekbone. 'Sorry, my pet,' whispered the charismatic voice above him. He heard a muffled chuckle, and his sweaty hair was brushed from his forehead before it was caressed by bloodied lips.
This was starting to get old.
Regulus didn't respond. He wasn't inside his body during such moments. He was watching the stars, his fingers were itching to reach out to them, but his wrists were tied against the bedframe, and his wrists were already raw and torn. His legs were spread wider, and the hand around his throat tightened until his sight started to blur.
He could still see the stars.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven…
He wanted to finish counting, but the body above his own was speeding up. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room as his lover started to slam inside him. Something warm trickled down his thighs, his body registered an alarming ache from deep inside, and his muscles burned. He couldn't attend to his own needs. He had to play, moan, throw his head back, and arch his spine like he was in a delirious state of mind. His heart was racing, his skin flushed, and his body responded to pain like many would respond to pleasure. It coloured skin pink, drew features into grimaces, and brought tears to eyes. He didn't need to cum; his lover knew he could not. Playing his part would be enough.
Nails dug into his throat, lips pressed against his, stealing the precious little amount of oxygen he had left on his tongue, a body sunk against his with a weight that threatened to crush him and—
Bright blonde hair. An old leather diary. A library big enough to satisfy every scholar in the world. A dark corner filled with books dangerous sufficient to destroy the world. A cane, black, silver. A smile, sharp, arrogant. Golden corners. A girl’s bathroom. A giant snake and—
He dragged himself out of Lord Voldemort’s mind and looked up to see the handsome man with his dark hair and deep eyes moan in pleasure as he finished himself inside Regulus. His forehead lowered, and a tongue brushed over his cheek again while the Dark Lord caught his breath. His eyes flicked over the nightstand, and he smiled before reaching for something. Regulus already knew what was coming. He parted his lips obediently as a piece of chocolate was pushed inside his mouth.
It was disgustingly sweet and sticky and—
He let it melt into his mouth before swallowing. He ignored the painful burn of the allergic reaction that instantly kicked in whenever he ate chocolate. His throat swelled, breathing became difficult, and speech close to impossible.
But at least his lips tasted sweet for the Dark Lord. He allowed the man to taste his tongue and touch Regulus's mouth with his own while fingers combed through his soft curls. The weight left his body, and he felt something drip out of his entrance when the Dark Lord tucked his cock back into his trousers. The bindings around his wrists slipped off, and Regulus pushed himself upright, forced a smile when his chin was grabbed between two fingers to have him look up at his master.
‘Absolutely divine,’ whispered the Dark Lord with possessive adoration in his voice.
‘All for you, my Lord.’
His eyes darkened, and his fingers trailed down to brush over the bite mark the man had left on his shoulder. It was deep, red, and still bled. 'Of course, it is, my pet. You have given me exactly what I needed before I am to leave for my mission. My personal Liquid Luck.' The Dark Lord stepped away, his wand flicked out to clean himself quickly before he put his dark robes back on. Regulus pushed himself up against the headboard and leaned back in a relaxed position. He snapped his fingers, allowed his wand to settle between them, and Vanished the blood and cum that sullied the blankets and stained his thighs.
His eyes moved back to the ceiling.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
Footsteps were nearing him again.
Twelve,
And thirteen.
Thirteen meant he was clear again. Thirteen promised him he could wear his clothes. Thirteen proved that things could come to a close.
Regulus slipped from the bed and summoned his clothes; he ignored the way the Dark Lord shamelessly leered at his body while he put his trousers and shirt back on. He moved towards the ornate mirror in the room, silver, big, bold, with many unnecessary emeralds decorating the frame. His eyes were still red, as were his cheeks, his lips were slightly swollen, and his hair was a puffy mess of curls. There were bruises around his throat; he knew better than to ask his master if he could heal them. The first—and last—time he asked, he'd been punished harshly enough that he couldn’t use his throat for anything else but swallowing liquids.
You look utterly pitiful.
Hands slipped around his waist and roughly pulled him back against a more muscular chest. His light blue eyes met dark ones, crimson red eyes that looked black in the shadows. His skin was pale, it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Regulus how it started to resemble something like candle wax, but he was wise enough not to comment on it. 'You are tempting enough to have me be late and go for a second round; it's been so long since I've had that sweet throat while these pretty eyes looked up at me.'
‘I would hate to be the reason you wouldn’t be able to achieve your goals today, my Lord.' His voice was broken, hoarse and scratchy from his allergy trying to suffocate him, but he knew his master liked it. It made him sound the same way he sounded after the man had forced himself into Regulus's throat until he couldn't breathe. It turned him on, and Regulus could feel the proof of it dig into his lower back.
He was going to be sick.
'Nothing could stand between my goals, but you are right. I'm afraid I must go,' the Dark Lord tutted disappointedly before he turned Regulus around so he could face him. Cool hands moved to cup his face, and clammy thumbs ran over his cheek. ‘I want you in this bed tonight. Take the knives out and lay them for me on the bed. Your blood always makes me yearn for more. And chocolate, I want to taste chocolate on your tongue when I kiss you. It tastes so much sweeter in your mouth, my pet.’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘How will you serve me today?’
‘I need to see Crouch; he needed help mastering some of the new curses Dolohov and Snape have created for us. Our healing potions are starting to empty; if I find time, I will be sure to brew some more.'
A predatory smile curled on red lips. ‘Such a good pet.’
One day, he was going to make him pay for that.
Regulus forced his lips into the same shape, moving his eyes up to meet his master’s. ‘Everything for you, my Lord.’
-*-*-*-
‘How angry would you be with me if I murdered your cousin?’ Regulus’s fingers stilled around his quill as he took a moment to think about that question. He looked over at his friend, Barty, with his reddish blonde hair slicked back, freckles that covered his face, and dressed in black slacks with a burgundy shirt. His tongue darted out to flick over his lower lip before his left hand twisted, a small tick Barty had every so often.
'Depends. Is it the one I despise or the one I adore?' he asked indifferently while tucking the letter he was writing inside the inner pocket of his robe. He moved away from the large, polished dining table and approached the seating area. His wand flicked out to turn the fire in the fireplace on, and he stretched out his legs as he sat down on a leather armchair. They were in Black Manor, a relatively new accommodation of the Black family ever since the Dark Lord requested Regulus’s permanent presence nearby. His mother had it decorated shortly before she passed away after choking on her soup and dying alone.
His mother didn’t drink soup.
Regulus didn’t want to think about that.
Try.
No.
It resulted in the interior looking gauze and extravagant. Everything was either silver, black, or green. Green used to be his favourite colour, but now he couldn't stomach the sight of it without feeling the need to retch all over the emerald carpets.
‘Would it matter?’
Huh… would it? ‘It would upset me if you killed Narcissa. You could go for her husband?’
‘The Lestranges and I were tasked with a kidnapping today….' Barty kept his attention on the tip of his wand while small flames puffed out of it. It covered his face with a daunting orange light that, just like the flames in the fireplace, looked so out of place in a room where everything was cold and warmth was sucked out of it. '… the Dark Lord instructed us to kidnap a certain Miss Meadowes today.’
Regulus allowed a single eyebrow to raise. ‘How’d you do that?’
‘I had no choice.’
‘I didn’t ask you why you’d done it, Barty, just how. Dorcas is smarter than that.’ She'd been a year higher when they'd gone to Hogwarts; she had been Sorted in Slytherin as well and had gotten… friendly with him, Barty and Evan.
Barty shifted in his seat. He always had trouble sitting still. 'She believed the McKinnon girl to be in danger. Rodolphus knew what time the McKinnon home would be empty. He put the mark up, and it took only minutes for Dorcas to receive word of it. You know how she is with that girl. Acting first. Thinking later. Bloody—’
‘Why did he want her? Where is she?’ This was awful. This was really bad. Did the Dark Lord suspect something? Was that why today had been rougher than usual?
‘Downstairs with your cousin, the Dark Lord told us we would understand his reasoning soon enough.’
'If he finds out about our….'
'Then it's done for us,' finished Barty with a solemn nod, and his wrist twisted again. Blue eyes focused on Regulus, and Barty made sure to do a good sweep before turning his eyes away. 'You look bloody awful.'
Regulus didn't respond; he knew how he looked: pale, bruised, and tired.
Disgusting. Pathetic. Sickly.
‘Was it worth it?’
Nothing was worth this pain, this embarrassment, this—this torture. Nothing was worth feeling like his skin wasn't his own again, and his soul belonged to someone else. But he couldn't say that. Not to Barty, whose fierce protectiveness would put an end to their plan the second he believed Regulus incapable of carrying this burden. Not to Evan, whose pride would make him believe he'd have to fight the Dark Lord all on his own to honour his friend—though, he would meet his end, as few were capable of resisting the man while he was consumed with that much power.
Was it worth being in pain, in chains, every single moment of your life? Was anything?
'It's a diary. I didn't see a lot, but I believe it to be in the Malfoy library. I will be visiting my cousin soon and will make sure to take a look around. It's tainted with dark magic, so finding it will take little effort.
Barty sighed softly and made another flame burst out of the tip of his wand. ‘That is not the answer to my question.’
‘It’s all I can give you, Crouch, don’t be greedy.’ Please don’t ask for more. I’m already giving too much.
‘You used to like it when I was greedy,’ his friend pouted teasingly, and Regulus let one corner of his lips twitch up. Barty was trying to make him smile, trying to make him forget. He was a painting of purples and blues, shades he saw in the mirror every single time he looked into it.
Sometimes being around his friends helped.
It was like fixing a broken mirror using glue. One could still use it.
The cracks remained visible.
The letter in his pocket felt hot on fire; he had to finish it and lock it up. With every word not yet poured out from the tip of his quill, his skin itched and felt restless.
He had to be patient.
Though he had been nothing but patient these past three years.
-*-*-*-
He’d been sixteen when the Dark Lord first showed interest in him. It started out with words of praise—quickly merging into words of affection. Then there was a hand around his waist. Fingers brushed through his soft curls. Cheeks that were pinched. Comments about his brilliance changed into remarks about his beauty. A thumb against his lips. Lips lingering too long on the back of his hand.
On his seventeenth birthday, all lines had been crossed, and all boundaries had been torn down. His bedroom door had opened, and a shape stood in the doorframe, tall, overbearing, terrifying. The word no had been spoken more than he’d ever used it in his life before.
But no was useless when you’re dealing with a monster.
No.
A touch.
No.
A taste.
No.
A kiss.
And when it had almost been over—that is when it happened.
A memory.
One of a sparkling diadem with blue sapphires adorning its beauty. Teeth of an infant. Ashes of a pure wizard. Organs of a young virgin. And a wall. In Hogwarts.
He'd been familiar with horcruxes; of course, he had, he was a Black, and if there was something known to his family members, then it was the ability to take magic and defile it until it turned into its vilest form. Horcruxes were something meant to be untouched; even the most crazed souls knew to stay away from them.
The Dark Lord hadn’t.
His bedroom had been visited many times in that week while Regulus had been planning his escape. He refused to serve a master willing to… to go to such lengths to prove his own greatness. Who would… who would do the things he had done to Regulus and call it something that would help their cause.
And he had been so close to leaving that his bag had been packed and hidden underneath his bed. Kreacher and his mother had heard his goodbyes concealed in innocent goodnights.
But then, a second memory hit him as the Dark Lord visited him a sixth time.
Of a shack.
With a snake nailed against the door.
And the same dark taste of magic on his tongue.
And he had known that escape wasn’t an option anymore.
He couldn’t think about escaping. Not now. Not when he was about to meet his master together with all the other Death Eaters. His mark burned and itched as he took his time walking through the long hallways of his home and headed towards the dining room.
‘Reg!’ he didn’t stop when Evan called his name, but he slowed his pace and turned his head as his friend hurried towards him. His hair was blond and wavy and was messy only because Evan had taken his time making it appear messy. His eyes were green, his smile was wide and bright, and Evan looked like something that should be on the cover of magazines instead of roaming dark alleyways and shifty stores. ‘You have no idea who I just saw! Guess!’
He pulled a face of dismay. ‘Do I have to?’
‘I can make you?’
As if. ‘Evan Rosier, you can’t make me do shit. What is it? Where is your shadow?’
Evan snorted and threw his arm over Regulus's shoulders. His robes still smelled like smoke, and Regulus groaned before pushing his friend away from him. ‘Mulciber got caught by certain Aurors. Wanna guess?'
'I don't want to, but I'm afraid you're not going to let this go. My brother?’
‘And his two o’clock shadow. You know, Potter has gotten quite fit if I may say so myself. Looking quite good for a man with a son.’ Evan wiggled his eyebrows with a knowing look, and Regulus tried his best to control his blood flow and keep his cheeks nice and pale. He really didn’t want to think about James Potter looking good for anything.
‘So, you lost your mate because you were drooling over Potter?’
‘I lost the weight on my arse because Mulciber wanted to fight instead of fleeing. We were just supposed to scout, and I wasn’t going to get caught fighting for that fool. Hey, what is this meeting about?’ Evan’s airy tone turned into dead seriousness, and Regulus shook his head as he let his friend inside. It was already completely full; the Dark Lord had taken his seat at the head of the table and smiled when dark eyes found Regulus.
He was so grateful Evan had removed his hand well before they entered that room, or he would’ve lost it.
He exchanged a silent look with his friend; Evan nodded once before he took his seat next to Barty and instantly ducked closer to his mate to get caught up. The seats were almost all taken except for two.
One next to Severus Snape and Steven Wilkins.
One next to the Dark Lord.
And Regulus knew exactly which one he was supposed to take.
His steps were quick, swift. He nodded once at his cousin, ignored Lucius completely, and took his seat next to the Dark Lord. His silent obedience was rewarded with a pat on his head, and he kept his chin up, even when shame and humility tried to make him look down at his lap.
‘Now that we are all complete, we have important topics to address, my loyal followers,’ started Lord Voldemort as he leaned closer to the table. His hands were folded on top of the smooth wood, long, pale fingers intertwined, fingers meant to play the piano but instead brought so much torture and danger to the world. 'Today, we have taken one step closer to victory, all because of the honourable efforts of the Lestranges and Mr Crouch, but also a secret admirer, who has been fighting for us in the shadows until the right time had come.’ Whispers erupted after this announcement. Bellatrix and her husband seemed to bathe with praise, but when Regulus looked at his friend, all he saw was a mask made of steel and eyes that refused to show emotion.
Barty didn’t know why they were tasked with taking Dorcas, and Regulus… he had no idea why she was so important. He hadn’t caught any stray memories from the Dark Lord. Yes, he picked up on some raids and attacks, but this was all news to him.
He didn’t like it.
He didn’t like the uncertainty, didn’t like this impulsiveness that was so dangerous regarding the Dark Lord.
‘As some of you know…’ continued the Dark Lord, his eyes straying towards Snape for just a moment before he looked over his followers again. Some wore masks, the ones still working in the ministry and keeping their identity a secret; others kept their faces bare with stubborn pride. He kept his face unmasked because that was how his master wanted it. ‘… there is a prophecy made in my name. One that speaks of a child born to defeat me. One that has been the reason why Ms Evans and her companion Mr Potter have been hiding from us.’ Regulus knew this. Dorcas had told him that soon after Evans got pregnant and she and Potter separated to continue just as friends, word of the prophecy had gotten out. Evans had hidden away with her son in a safe house charmed with a Fidelius charm that only one Secret Keeper could share the location of.
Dorcas had been that Secret Keeper.
‘Mr. Pettigrew, please bring the child inside?’
Barty choked on his spit.
Evan’s eyes bulged out of his skull.
And Regulus… bless Merlin that he had been taught all his life how to keep his facial expressions composed because he was freaking out.
He heard that incorrectly. He was still tired, he was delusional, the allergy was finally damaging the brain cells, and there was no way that he had just heard the name—
Peter Pettigrew, a young, chubby man with soft blond hair, light blue eyes, a dust of freckles all over his face, and teeth that were slightly too big but still cute, stepped inside. Pettigrew had a youthful appearance, one that if he kept taking care of himself, would make him look like he was twenty-two for many years to come. He was dressed in dark brown robes, but the most important thing about this picture was the two-year-old toddler clinging to his chest, thumb in his mouth, dressed in soft blue pyjamas with tiny brooms embroidered in them. The child had messy dark hair that looked like he'd gotten it from his father and captivating green eyes that were definitely Evans.
And a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.
One that still looked red and slightly swollen.
The child started tearing up when he was met with the many ruggish faces and creepy masks that looked at him, and when he sobbed, silence filled the space between his lips.
He felt like he was going to be sick. He knew that charm had been put under it often enough that even now, he couldn't get himself to cry or make a lot of sounds. His mother didn't like noise. Each cry, each sob, each scream, each complaint had been met with a Silencing Charm.
Until he'd finally learnt that doing anything, even remotely defiantly, would be met with silence and punishment.
'This is Harry Potter. Mr Pettigrew here approached me a few months ago with the request to join our side. When I was made aware of his connection with my so-called destined enemy, I recruited him. Pettigrew managed to convince Ms Evans to change him into the Secret Keeper. The moment this was done, I swooped in.’
He was going to be sick. That was Lily Evans. His brother’s friend. Dorcas’s friend. A mother.
'She refused to step away from her child.' The Dark Lord waved Pettigrew closer, and the young man did as he was told before handing the child to lord Voldemort. Regulus didn't like children, they gave him anxiety, but right now, his fingers were itching with the need to scoop Harry from those stained hands and shelter him in the folds of his robes, so people would stop looking at him like he was dinner. ‘I was forced to make an end to her life. I tried to reason with her.’ He looked at Snape, but he avoided the Dark Lord’s eyes and kept his chin lowered. ‘She forced my hand. I only came for the boy.’
He tucked Harry against his chest, forced the crying child to raise his head, and revealed the red scar etched into the boy's head. His thumb traced the shape, and his lips curled into something that looked like distaste. 'However, when I used the same curse on the child, it rebounded. Almost, was your Lord struck with his own curse.' He heard horrified gasps. Normally, Regulus would have played along, but he couldn't. Not when he was forced to listen to this while a toddler was screaming his lungs out in utter silence. His face was red and wet, and his lips formed the word mommy over and over again.
‘So, I have taken him here. He survived the Killing Curse. I am curious to see what magic houses inside him that would make him significant enough to be seen as an equal and have him defy all laws of magic. Regulus…' he stayed very still as the Dark Lord forced the child into his lap. '… will be tasked with caring for the child until I know what to do with it. And Mr Pettigrew, he will be welcomed as one of our own. He is now truly an honoured Death Eater.’
This couldn’t get any worse.
This could not get any worse.
This. Could. Not. Get. Any—
‘Regulus!’
He was going to hurt someone.
He ignored the voice behind him as he patted the toddler’s head awkwardly in order to make him stop crying. His hair was being pulled now, and the child was pouting something while saying Pad, uncle, please, Paddy, please. It was adding to the already growing headache pounding in the back of his skull, and lord, did he feel murderous right that second.
'Regulus! Hold up!' Barty chuckled as they kept walking and Evan whistled louder, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ceiling. The Dark Lord was still in the dining hall to brief some of the Death Eaters on new orders and…
There was a Pettigrew in front of him now. The Gryffindor’s cheeks were flushed and eyes bright. He wore a smile on his face, and he spread his arms out. 'Hey, guys! It's so good to see you! I'm glad we are finally on the same side!'
He was joking… right? He was joking.
Barty and Evan both took a step back, and even the toddler stopped squirming in his arms as he put his thumb inside his mouth and curled up against Regulus's chest. 'Pettigrew, why are you speaking to me right now?'
Pettigrew's smile faltered slightly. 'I… I mean, we are on the same side; I thought it might be good to get to know each other a bit, just in case we have to work on the same assignments and such?’
'Just because we are on the same side doesn't mean we suddenly like you, Pettigrew,' drawled Evan slowly as he twirled his wand between his fingers. Barty curled his upper lip up in disgust and twitched his head to the side.
‘We celebrated the day you left Hogwarts. It made us sick to look at you. I finally managed to finish a whole meal without having to look at your face.’
Pettigrew seemed surprised—Regulus really didn't know why—and he decided to ignore the two and just focus his attention straight on Regulus. 'So, I see that you've made quite a name for yourself, haven't you? Second in command to the Dark Lord? That's really impressive.'
‘You are really buttering yourself up to me while I’m holding the son of the mother you just murdered.’
‘I didn’t kill Lily.’ His cheeks were starting to get blotchy as redness increased.
Of course, he didn’t. ‘You only sold her out to the Dark Lord in exchange for a dark mark. News flash, you could’ve gotten it from using the Cruciatus Curse on a muggle as well.’ It filled him with a wave of surprising anger, the thought of Pettigrew not only betraying Evans but—but Sirius as well. He was a spy in the order of the Phoenix; he could share information that could lead to his brother's death. This rat could be the death of a Black.
Disturbing. It was truly disturbing.
Pettigrew stuck his chin up, and a sly smile slowly formed on his lips. 'Careful Regulus, sounds to me like you don't approve of the Dark Lord's plans. Who knows what would happen if I were to share your displeasure with him?'
'He wouldn't kill me if that was what you're hoping to threaten me with. He likes the way I suck cock too much to ever make that happen.' Pettigrew flinched with that revelation, and it filled Regulus with a perverse pleasure. ‘So be careful, Wormtail, because, by the end of the day, you are still the rat living off of cheese crumbs while I'm feasting my breakfast in the bed I share with the master of all. Don’t annoy me. Or I will kill you.’ He roughly pushed past the man and had to stop his lips from curling up when he heard Barty and Evan shoo the rat away from them.
‘He gives me the shivers,’ gagged Evan as they made their way down to the dungeon.
Barty’s eyes were intense as they focused on the air in front of him. ‘I am going to kill him.’
'I'm calling dibs, though.'
'You can't. I already said so.'
‘Barty…' whined Evan with a groan, and he whimpered when Barty punched his shoulder. 'Ouch, don't hurt me, barbarian, fine, fine, you can kill Pettigrew; I'll just cripple him or something, for fuck's sake.’
‘I want to skin him alive.’
A snort. ‘That sounds unnecessarily messy. With a spell or a knife?’
‘With a knife would be messy,' mumbled Regulus softly as he unlocked the door leading to the dungeons and shooed the guards away so they could have their five-minute break.
‘I know a spell; my father used it once on my back. It was excruciating but effective.’
‘Regulus, remind me to put that on the list of reasons why we should definitely go for Crouch Senior next?’ asked Evan with a thoughtful frown. Regulus nodded silently. His right arm was starting to get tired from carrying the toddler, and his robes were getting wet from the drool and silent tears that were dripping onto the fabric. He wanted to cancel the charm but couldn't do so in the dungeons, where all attention would instantly be drawn towards them.
He swept through the corridors until he finally found the right cell and muffled the room around them.
Dorcas Meadowes stood the second she saw who was standing in front of them. Her dark, tightly braided hair was covered in blood from a head wound she'd suffered. Her eyes were hard at first but watered the second she saw the toddler.
‘H-Harry?’ she sniffed softly as she stepped closer and gripped the bars of her cell tightly.
Regulus cleared his throat and drew her attention to him. ‘Dorcas. What in Merlin’s name happened?’
Her lower lip trembled as she stepped back and looked away. ‘Pettigrew happened.’