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camelliacats · 3 years

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Where Logic Cannot Intervene

Another oneshot, done for a forum exchange.

Fic: "Where Logic Cannot Intervene" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Regulus Arcturus Black/Gideon Prewett, Kreacher, Fabian Prewett, & Voldemort, with cameos from others

Rating: M

Words: ~10,970

Additional info: romance, slash, angst, violence, AU fic, sequential, Marauder era, 3rd person POV

Summary: Regulus wanted out, and Gideon was the light to lead him there.

Regulus Black coughed in the midst of the smoke-filled room. He half mused that he had asthma. If that were true, then he had even less business being in this room, with these people.

His eyes sidled around the room, taking in the familiar faces. Lucius Malfoy looked out of place here, maybe two decades removed from the times with how he gripped the bejeweled top of his walking stick. Rodolphus Lestrange was better, though his love of all-black clothes only made him that much more conspicuous a person. Rodolphus' brother, Rabastan, was one of the younger ones, a few years older than Regulus, and he had a fag hanging out of the side of his mouth as several of the others did. He didn't look particularly interested in being present. The same could be said of Rosier, Avery, Rowle—and their drugs of choice were all something much more potent, judging by the snorts Rowle made in a back corner of the room and by the white tablet Regulus saw change hands from Avery to Rosier.

Regulus, on the other hand, closed his eyes. The temptation was there, but he had yet to partake. No. Drugs were a last resort.

The door to the room opened, and in walked a man in his late fifties, though, looking at him, one couldn't tell that. He looked barely older than Lucius and Rodolphus. That had always interested Regulus. It were as though the man possessed the Elixir of Life…as if such a thing existed.

"Gentleman," the man greeted them. (If what he did could be called a greeting. "Greeting" had such a positive connotation and therefore didn't fit with the man's image.)

"Lord Riddle," the gathered mass responded.

Yes. Tom Riddle. In certain circles, he was just another well-off, old-family patriarch, though that was more because he was the last of the Riddles. But, to England these past several years, he was the fearsome visage publicly known as "Voldemort." Regulus thought nothing of the name—it was just a tactic meant to scare people…though he'd be lying if he said it never scared him when he saw Riddle in action.

"Lord Riddle," Lucius began. "I wanted to let you know that the shipment arrived safely. Distribution begins later this week."

Riddle nodded. "Good." He shrugged out of his jacket and passed it to his companion, a woman Regulus had only ever known by the name "Nagini." He didn't know if that was her first name or last name, but she was almost always there if Riddle was. Aside from Cousin Bellatrix, she was the only female to attend meetings regularly.

Regulus mused about that and how Bellatrix wasn't there today. Likely a bit too unstable, he figured. She had always been a little off, and marrying Rodolphus had made her no better. Though…hanging out with an unhinged Bellatrix was presumably better than being here.

Riddle cleared his throat and began the meeting, talking in coded language about moving more arms and the latest developments regarding his own version of LSD. Of course, the coded talk seemed like a wasted effort when he showed them a little green pill with an "R" carved into it.

As the meeting continued and each "Death Eater," as they called themselves, reported on their activities and about their territories, Regulus tuned most of it out. Sometimes he didn't understand why he was at the meetings, when all he was capable of was being muscle. Another ludicrous thought, as he had barely any muscle. But…he didn't want to be a pusher or a lord of war. Regulus just wanted not to feel anything. So going out and getting into fights or knocking someone down a peg—it did well to numb him. That was his only reason for being involved with Riddle's organized crime syndicate.

The meeting wore on, and Regulus, towards the end, was vaguely aware of Riddle's furtive glances his way. When the session adjourned, most of the members left in carefully selected groups, so as not to draw attention. Regulus remained in his seat until it was just him, Riddle, and Nagini in the room.

The Black son let his gaze drift towards his new master.

"Regulus," Riddle said. He held his arms out so Nagini could get his jacket back on him. He straightened and flattened his lapels. "You were quieter than an American politician about Vietnam. I take it you've nothing to report?"

"No, sir," Regulus replied.

"Good. If you've nothing to say, then I'm not worried about our clients keeping their mouths shut." He eyed Regulus in an oddly fond way, knowing the things he'd taught Regulus. "Keep up the good work, Regulus."

The young man nodded and waited until Riddle and Nagini left. Then he released the breath he'd been holding, trying not to think of those things he'd been taught.

There were some things that couldn't be numbed away, after all.

Leaving the meeting place—the Cave, some of the older Death Eaters called it—Regulus dragged his feet. He had no desire to head home immediately. Home had been the place to force him into the arms of someone like Riddle in the first place. Granted, now that he was a lieutenant in Riddle's organization, home wasn't as scary as it had been even months ago, when he'd been finishing up his schooling. But still…

He headed up the street, trying to forget the afternoon's events. His eyes flitted past the other people walking, eyeing instead the buildings in the same neighborhood as the Cave. The Cave itself was just another home in a fairly dense residential area which bled into the city square, which had everything people needed. Like a bank.

Good god. Why couldn't they just rob a bank or something? There was plenty of danger in doing that, and they could make something of it. Frankly, Regulus was all right with that sort of crime. It was quick and easy and done when the task was finished.

But this other stuff? The drug-trafficking? International arms trade? The hustling? Regulus was fairly certain there were at least half a dozen other things going on that he didn't even know about, and his stomach turned at the merest daydream of what those things were.

He sighed and slowed to a stop on the pavement, his hands in his light jacket pockets despite the humidity of the midsummer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Eventually his stomach stopped doing queasy flips.

"I need coffee," he muttered to himself, and his feet took him to the nearest coffee shop before his mind could catch up.

With something in his stomach (the liquid would have to suffice since he had a bad habit of skipping breakfast and nibbling on the odd thing here and there for lunch), Regulus' nerves settled, and his mind escaped Riddle's grasp. For a nice moment, Regulus felt as though he were just like these other normal passersby. Someone even walked into his right shoulder and tossed back a casual "Sorry" before continuing on.

Yes, the day could be redeemed with a good cup of coffee.

Of course, Regulus had spoken too soon. He'd just taken another step forward when a voice called him back. "Oi, wait! Hey!"

He peeked over his shoulder. The person who'd just bumped into him was coming over. Oh, bloody hell. Regulus faced forward and kept walking.

"Hey!" the bloke called again, and he easily caught up to Regulus, enough so that he could place a hand on Regulus' shoulder. "Hey. Hi."

Regulus paused and gave the man a look. "May I help you?"

The man had red hair, as well as blue eyes that popped on his freckled face when he smiled. "You don't remember me," he stated with a trace of amusement in his voice.

Honestly, Regulus could care less about this person. "You've mistaken me for someone else," he said, believing that to be the end of the conversation."

"Regulus Black, right?"

Now, wait a minute. He knew Regulus' name? Sure, Regulus had an unusual name—everyone in his family did; it was a tradition. But Regulus had never done much to stand out. He didn't exactly like standing out. The boldest thing he'd ever done was play footie for his school, but he stopped that the year before he'd graduated.

The man's face fell slightly when he realized Regulus wasn't even trying to place his face. "Sorry. I'm Gideon. Gideon Prewett? I shared a dorm with your older brother when we were in school."

Ah. Now things clicked. "Isn't there another one of you?" Regulus asked.

"Oh, yeah. I s'pose you don't recognize me without my twin." Gideon scratched the back of his head and laughed a little at himself. "I'm just running errands on my own, though, while Fabian's out."

Regulus grimaced. He didn't know what Gideon Prewett had hoped to accomplish by stopping him in the middle of the street. They'd never been friends. Regulus had known of him, yes, but just barely. Gideon was a year older than him, and Regulus' brother, Sirius, had been in a completely different dorm at their boarding school. Therefore, their prior interaction had been minimal at best.

Gideon sheepishly smiled as if he now realized the pointlessness of saying hello. "Erm…how are you? You just graduated, didn't you?"

Regulus bristled. "Yes," he replied curtly.

Gideon blinked and shifted on his feet. "Um…how's Sirius?"

"Dunno."

It was hilarious. Regulus could see the "Oh, crap, I've stuck my foot in it" look on Gideon's face like neon lights. "Ah… Is that coffee you're drinking?"

Regulus raised one eyebrow and took a sip. He'd let Gideon flounder a little longer.

Gideon sighed. "All right, so you're not one for small talk." He sighed a second time and pursed his lips. Then: "Hey…do you still play footie?"

Well, now, color Regulus impressed. "Not really," Regulus answered softly before he could catch himself. Oh, damn.

Gideon realized it, too, that he'd gotten his foot in the door. "I envy you. You and James Potter—you blokes were talented at that." He chuckled. "I just trip over my feet—and that's just when I walk."

The Black son withheld a snort. Oh, damn. When was the last time he'd wanted to laugh? Hell, when was the last time he'd even stopped to converse with someone? Reporting to Riddle didn't count. Getting lectures from Lucius about Regulus' future role in the Death Eaters didn't count. Threatening his parents when they dared to reprise their prior abuse didn't count.

"So you live around here?" Gideon asked.

Regulus grumped. "Yeah."

"Wow. Small world. I used to live in a little town with my parents. Then Fabian and I got into the local university."

"Ah."

"Studying just the general stuff right now." Gideon scuffed his shoes on the concrete. "I, uh, don't really know what I want to do with my life."

Regulus softened a fraction. To that, he could relate. "I get that," he mumbled.

Gideon glimpsed the time on the large clock atop the bank. "Agh, bugger. I need to get back and cook lunch before Fabian swings by." He shook his head. "Sometimes it's more a burden than a blessing, sharing a flat with your twin. I have to feed him more than my goldfish."

This time, Regulus did snicker. "A goldfish. Sounds ambitious."

Gideon gave him a look, but he wasn't really put out. He glanced at the clock again and then locked eyes with Regulus. "Well, nice seeing you. Maybe I'll see you around?"

Regulus pressed his lips together in a flat line and said nothing.

"Er, right." Still, Gideon wasn't beaten down. He waved as he turned and headed in the opposite direction. "See you, Regulus!"

And then Regulus was left standing on the pavement with a cup of coffee that had turned lukewarm and a spark of hope in his gut.

The week persisted with no other excitement. Things had been quiet on the work front, and Regulus had not bumped into Gideon—literally or otherwise—again since. Regulus didn't know whether he should take comfort in his fortune or drown in the realization that everyone his age around him had all seemed to find their purpose in life.

He pondered that in his bedroom at Twelve Grimmauld Place after a long meeting earlier in the day that Saturday. He had never had any plans for what he'd do after school because, quite honestly, he'd believed he'd be dead one way or another before his schooling had ended.

One way or another… It was a light way of saying he'd be murdered or he'd kill himself before long. Once upon a time, Sirius had shared a similar fate, because their parents had abused them. But Sirius was the older one, and meeting James Potter and his other mates had changed his life, and he'd run away from the Black household when his sixteenth birthday came around.

When they were little, Sirius and Regulus had been inseparable, partly because only they knew what they'd suffered. The verbal abuse and the mental anguish and the physical torture—another Black family tradition. And, when Sirius got older, he started talking of escape, and the closer it got to his sixteenth birthday, the grander his promises to Regulus were. "We'll leave here," Sirius had said, his gray eyes warm and sparkling as they'd never done when they were tiny. "We'll leave here and go where they can't find us or won't touch us. And if they somehow come after us… We'll get the authorities involved. And if the authorities can't help, then we'll just end them."

And Regulus had fervently nodded, not even batting an eyelash at Sirius' loose plan for premeditated murder. But he'd believed in Sirius. Even when Sirius ran away and took up residence with the Potters, Regulus had believed in his big brother. He'd held his breath and borne the abuse with his eyes on the door, believing that at any minute Sirius would come breaking in to take Regulus with him.

But that never happened, and Regulus had to find his own way out.

Thinking back on it now, Regulus had to wonder if maybe he'd played into his parents' hands. They were former cronies of Riddle's syndicate, and they'd always wanted Sirius and him to step in and fill their shoes in Riddle's ranks. Even Bellatrix, the loon that she was, was a part of the whole bloody mess, with actual blood on her hands (not that the coppers knew, no, because she was just that good at not leaving incriminating evidence behind—another fact that made Regulus shiver).

But he hadn't been counting on Riddle seeing something in him. He hadn't thought Riddle would decide to take him under his wing. He hadn't thought that Riddle would teach him ways to scare people—ways to hurt people and to keep himself from being hurt ever again. And so his parents, knowing what he was now capable of, left him to his own business, even though they continued to share the same roof.

Still, it was a double-edged sword. Regulus was now involved in something that was beyond him and…he wasn't sure he wanted to be a part of it anymore.

His dangerous thoughts were interrupted by the knock on his door. "Master Regulus?"

"The door's open, Kreacher."

The family butler, with his poor posture and gruff face, nudged the door open and brought Regulus a plate of food. "You've not eaten all day, Master Regulus."

"No appetite."

Kreacher frowned. He placed the plate on the bed by Regulus' legs and put a pot of herbal tea on the dresser. "Take better care of yourself, Master Regulus."

Regulus sighed. "I try, Kreacher, I try."

The butler sighed, too, and shrugged. With his sallow, wrinkly skin, thinned hair, and slightly pointed ears, he'd always reminded Regulus of a grumpy old elf. But Kreacher was good to him. He hadn't liked Sirius very much, but he'd done what little he could to help the boys. It just didn't help that he was also subject to the infamous tempers of Orion and Walburga Black.

Kreacher exited Regulus' room, and Regulus turned so that his legs hung off his bed. He picked at the food and looked around his room, his mind returning to his previous train of thought.

He'd joined Riddle's ranks prematurely, two years before he'd finished school. Sirius hadn't known, though, the few times the brothers had passed each other in the hallways, Regulus had gotten the feeling Sirius suspected. Why else would Regulus suddenly decide to wear long sleeves year-round? He'd never been a cutter…but Death Eaters swore their fealty with a macabre skull-and-snake tattoo inside their left elbows.

Still, the ink had barely dried, the pain receded when Regulus began to regret his decision. He'd heard the news reports. He'd seen the censored photos on the telly. He'd barely had an idea of what Riddle's group was like. And he'd joined it anyway. All in the hopes that it might be something better than home.

It was something better than home, but Regulus was older, wiser now. He knew more of the details that the press would never know about "Voldemort's" followers. He knew well enough that, even if he had no plans after school or outside this house…the life of a Death Eater was no life for him.

Regulus got up and went to his closet. He wondered what he'd take with him if he left this place. On the floor of his closet was an old football, and he nudged it with his toe. That spark of hope in his gut reignited, and he placed his foot on the ball, rolling it out of the closet.

There. It didn't look so out of place, not as much as Regulus imagined it might've. It was black and white, like much of his room. For the first time in a long while, Regulus felt the corners of his mouth lift up. A mad laugh bubbled up in his chest and throat and threatened to emerge, but he caged it.

This house didn't deserve his smile or laughter. But maybe…maybe someplace (or someone) outside this house of horrors did.

Aside from asking Bellatrix to help him join Riddle's gang, Regulus had never done anything for himself before. Well, all right, that wasn't entirely true. He'd tried out for his school's footie team. But, aside from those two things, he had never gone out of his way for himself.

Which was why Regulus was so easily frustrated the following week and a half as he attempted to "bump" into Gideon Prewett on purpose. The meetings at the Cave were the same as ever—Regulus' ward was still quiet, and no clients needed any roughing up—so Regulus could devote his full efforts into "chancing" upon Gideon.

Finally, two weeks after he'd first met the bubbly bloke, Regulus saw him as he headed into the coffee shop to pick his usual poison. He bought his drink, checked outside the window, and timed his exit perfectly.

They didn't crash into each other (good thing, too, as Regulus drank hot coffee year-round, and being scalded in the middle of summer was not high on his list of things to do), but Gideon did skid to a halt. "Regulus."

"Don't sound so surprised," Regulus retorted as he sipped.

"I didn't really think I'd see you again."

"…small world."

Gideon grinned at having his own words thrown back at him. "Very true. I see you've got another coffee."

The raven-haired male shrugged.

"Nice day to be out." He nodded to Regulus. "Well, be seeing you—"

"Wait."

Gideon gawked at him.

Shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. Regulus hadn't meant to stop him. But—he just wasn't ready for the chatter to stop.

"Is something the matter?" Goddamn Gideon and the concern in his eyes.

"No, of course not," Regulus lied.

Gideon's surprise melted away as he stared at Regulus. Regulus couldn't read whatever it was in his eyes. "Regulus."

"Mm?" the shorter said over the rim of his cup.

"Do you want to catch up sometime?"

Huh. Did he? Regulus wasn't entirely sure. Yes, he'd been looking for Gideon. And he'd like to talk with him. But "catch up"? "Not really catch up," Regulus confessed.

Gideon nodded, likely having figured as much. "Sorry I bothered you before."

"But I'd like to talk again, sometime." Regulus chanced a look at Gideon head on, and his stomach turned, happily.

The taller man had rosy cheeks that made his freckles stick out sorely. "Sounds good to me," he remarked, with relief in his tone. He glanced in the direction he'd been heading and then looked back at Regulus. "Say… Um. I have to take Fabian his textbook," he said, showing Regulus a large biology book, "because he had an open-book and -notes exam today, and the git never takes notes…"

"As I said, 'sometime' is fine," Regulus hastily added, his hopes dashed.

"No, it's just—do you want to go for a drink? Or," Gideon rushed when he realized how stupid he sounded since Regulus quite obviously had a drink, "do you want to go for lunch? My treat."

Regulus furrowed his brow. "But you're heading somewhere."

"I'll be back in twenty minutes, tops," Gideon promised. He looked up and down the street, and he pointed to a restaurant with a brown awning and a sign that read "Earth Space." "Meet me there in twenty? It's a much better place than it looks like on the outside."

"I suppose…"

"Great! See you then."

And that was how Regulus found himself in a setting that wasn't Twelve Grimmauld Place or the Cave.

He had nothing else to do, so he finished his drink and waited at an open-window table inside Earth Space. It was nice in there, even if it was obviously owned by former hippies. And, with the windows open, it wasn't stuffy, which was also nice.

Considering Regulus often had trouble occupying his free time with meaningful things, twenty minutes flew by before it even registered with him that he was bored. Just in time, Gideon appeared. "We meet again," the redhead quipped as he took the seat across from Regulus.

"Something occurred to me," Regulus said as a waitress brought them water. "It's summer. Why is he going to school?"

"Oh, we're both taking summer classes," Gideon corrected. "See, Fabian's dating Dorcas Meadowes, who does have a career plan. She's taking summer courses, so Fabian is. Since he's taking summer courses, I am, because I want to graduate at the same time."

Regulus "hmm"d. He was envious of that part of Gideon who was still so close to his brother. "You can do that when you haven't decided a track yet?"

Gideon nodded. "Summer courses are more expensive, but Mum and Dad made it our graduation present."

The waitress returned. She took their orders and disappeared, and then Gideon resumed their conversation in earnest.

"So did you ever think about university?"

Regulus scrunched up his nose. "Heavens, no. I did well in school. Towards the top of my class. But university isn't for me."

"Aw, why not?" Gideon grinned. "I'll be honest, it's a way of delaying adulthood, if you ask me."

"That sounds nice."

"Really?" Gideon raised his eyebrows. "I can't picture that, a Black not wanting to grow up."

Regulus observed Gideon. He meant no harm, Regulus concluded. Gideon was only referencing the airs past Black family members put on. "Well, picture it. It's sitting right in front of you." So what would Gideon say now? That Regulus was odd and not worth the effort? Maybe Gideon liked being childish himself but wouldn't be around someone equally childish.

Interestingly enough, Gideon released a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I was wondering what it'd be like, talking to you for real."

"You did?"

"Yeah. I knew Sirius, and we got on okay. But it was obvious he was the Black family black sheep. Your cousins—the ones that graduated before me—they always came across as unapproachable. Well, Narcissa not as much as the rest. Definitely not Andromeda."

"Andromeda's another black sheep."

"Ah." Gideon stroked his chin in thought. "Hmm. But you… It was still too early to tell. And, knowing Sirius, I confess I was a bit curious about you." Gideon smiled then, a large but easy smile that was comforting at the same time. "So what's Regulus Black like? What's his favorite color, favorite school subject? Does he still play football? Has he ever dressed like a hippie? Is he a peace-loving bloke?"

Regulus felt his face warm, and he gulped his ice water down in an effort to cool it. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm a curious fellow."

"Noted."

Their meals arrived—a salad Regulus could pick at and a burger big enough that Gideon had to cut it in half—and the two men ate. "This is nice," Gideon commented.

"What is?"

Gideon gestured to the table. "Eating out with a mate. I'm always with Fabian or Fabian and Dorcas, and then it's not really fair 'cause I'm the third wheel—what?"

Regulus made a face at him. "I'm not your mate."

"Oh. Well, sorry 'bout that. Eating out with an acquaintance." Gideon didn't lose his enthusiasm, even after the interruption. "I don't get to do this often. Haven't really made any friends yet at the uni."

They ate in silence after that, mostly because Regulus was trying to gather his thoughts. He agreed with Gideon—this was nice. He'd never done anything of the sort, either.

Gideon waited until their food was nearly gone before he spoke again. "I'm trying to figure it out."

"What?" Regulus looked up from his salad and was startled by the blueness of Gideon's eyes in the late afternoon sun.

"If you want to do this again."

Regulus frowned. Wasn't it obvious? "I'd like to."

"Are you certain?" Gideon frowned, too, and Regulus disliked the sight. Him frowning, Sirius frowning, Kreacher frowning, the Death Eaters frowning—that all made sense. But a frown on Gideon's face somehow looked wrong, even though Regulus barely knew him.

"Very."

Gideon stared at him a little longer and then nodded, believing him. "All right. I just—I'm not fond of people who don't mean what they say."

A lump formed in Regulus' throat. "O-Oh…?"

"It's a long story," Gideon said, half a grin appearing on his features.

"For another time, then."

Gideon's grin mellowed out into that kind smile from before. "Another time, yeah."

True to his word, Gideon paid for lunch, and the duo exited Earth Space. Regulus stuck to Gideon's side, not certain where they headed but not wanting to part with him just yet.

"I'd love to do something else, but…" Gideon gave him an apologetic look. "I have some reading to do for one of my classes, and I've been procrastinating long enough."

"Of course." Regulus cleared his throat. "Thanks. For the meal, and the company."

"You're welcome, but the pleasure was mine."

Ugh. Gideon was a gentleman to a sickeningly extreme extent.

They kept walking until they approached an old-looking, brown brick complex. Gideon turned to Regulus. "Well, this is me. Hey, don't be a stranger, yeah?"

Regulus nodded.

Gideon nodded, too. "Erm…shall we do the same again?"

"That's fine."

"I have night classes on Wednesdays and no classes on Fridays, so feel free to lurk in the area around then. I'll keep an eye out for you." Gideon winked, and then he went into the building.

Regulus stared at the door. He lifted his head, looking to the windows and wondering if he'd catch a glimpse of that jovial silhouette.

Speaking of the devil, Gideon appeared at the third floor corner window on the right. He opened the window and stuck his head out, waving with a goofy grin on his face.

Regulus waved back, and he had to be the one to leave first when Gideon leaned on the sill, not intending to move. Until he reached the end of the street, Regulus could feel Gideon's eyes on his back. And he rather liked that.

Regulus now felt as though he was a juggling act.

The more time he spent with Gideon, the closer he got to the older male. The more he felt as though he'd made a friend.

But, while some of his afternoons were filled with Gideon, most of his days were still preoccupied with the Death Eaters. And, having befriended Gideon, it made it harder to sit there, in the Cave where the air was half smoke and half hash and the atmosphere was one of hatred.

The more often he went to meetings, the more Regulus wanted to see Gideon's happy face.

He did his damnedest, however, to make certain Riddle and none of the others saw him daydreaming. Riddle, unfortunately, was sharp, and he could sniff out the faintest hint of absentmindedness.

"Regulus," he said lowly after one meeting in early August. As usual, the others had left, and it was him, Nagini, and Regulus in the Cave. "Regulus, Regulus, Regulus, my boy…"

Regulus' hackles went up.

"I'm almost saddened there's been nothing for you to handle as of late."

He knew better than to speak.

"Perhaps I can find some work for you… Yes, Nagini… Bring me my notebook, from my briefcase…"

Nagini did so silently (did she ever speak? Regulus had never heard her voice), and she slinked in and out of the room, notebook in hand. Riddle took it from her and withdrew a silver pen from his breast pocket as he flipped through the pages.

"Tut tut," Riddle clicked his tongue. "Now let's see… Hmm, Meadowes…no, not yet… Bones… No, I'll pay them a visit myself… Longbottom—I'll send Bellatrix… Ah. McKinnon." Riddle scrawled something down and passed it to Regulus. It was an address. "Don't do anything to them specifically yet. But employ the scare tactics I taught you. They've been acting up and need to learn their place."

Regulus nodded, though his stomach clenched.

"And have someone go with you. Maybe Mulciber. He needs more to do. He can help. Guide him as you see fit."

Regulus nodded again and turned to leave, but Riddle called him back.

"And, Regulus, don't let him bully you around because you're younger. You have higher rank. Put Mulciber in his place, if you need to." Though something in Riddle's reddish–brown eyes told Regulus to rough Mulciber up either way.

"Yes, sir."

Riddle nodded his approval and waved the Black son away. "Very well, then. You're dismissed."

"Hey, did you hear about the satanic ritual on the dodgy end of Carp Street?" Gideon asked Regulus days later.

Regulus froze and didn't look at Gideon as they walked from Gideon's complex to Earth Space. "No," he lied. "What happened?"

Gideon shook his head and shivered. "A whole bunch of birds and one neighborhood cat—they were gutted and hung from the branches of the tree in a family's yard." He grimaced. "I know a family on Carp Street. God, I hope it wasn't their home."

"It probably wasn't," Regulus assured him, though who was he to know? Did Gideon know the police family, the McKinnons? Regulus vaguely recalled a McKinnon girl in Sirius' year, but he didn't know if she was the same as the ones Riddle wanted intimidated.

"And to hurt those animals… Only someone sick could do that," Gideon added lowly.

Regulus fidgeted and glanced at his fingernails while Gideon gazed forward. He hadn't been able to get all the blood out from under his nails yet, but at least he wasn't wholly guilty from Gideon's viewpoint. He hadn't done the killing. Mulciber had been more than happy to do the killing. Regulus had just hung them from the branches like morbid Christmas decorations. He didn't really…do killing… Regulus shook some other thoughts from his head. He had to push such things from his mind. He needed to focus on enjoying Gideon's company.

Gideon glanced at Regulus. "It's scary, what's becoming of the world, don't you think?"

"Mm" was all Regulus could muster.

"Regulus, you look pale. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Regulus lied. "I just need something to eat."

They ate as per usual at Earth Space, but the August heat was quite something. It made Regulus wish he didn't need to continue to wear long sleeves to cover his tattoo, and Gideon mentioned it. "Aren't you hot in long sleeves?"

"I manage," Regulus said, though he at least gathered his hair up off his neck and tied it back. "There. Better."

Gideon's eyes lingered on his neck for a moment, though Regulus had no idea why. Gideon cleared his throat and fanned himself as they sat at their window table after lunch. "How about we get some ice-cream next?"

"Sounds good."

"Great. I know this good little shop two streets over, if you don't mind the walk."

Regulus smiled gently, though the expression still felt alien on his face. "After a month of walking up and down Main Street, you finally say that."

Gideon laughed.

They went to the ice-cream shop, and the heat felt worse. Two streets over, the road and sidewalks were crowded with people who wanted cool things like ice-cream and iced beverages. As expected, the line for the shop was long, and Regulus and Gideon had to squeeze together to keep their spot lest some parent cut in line for the sake of their child.

Gideon's hand brushed Regulus' side, and the latter flinched. "Whoops, sorry," Gideon blurted.

Regulus frowned but shook his head. "No, it's all right." His pulse had quickened at the touch, but the flinch? He knew that was his body recalling the last time someone had touched him, and that had not been a happy memory.

The line moved sluggishly, but they finally reached the window. Gideon got a cone of cookie dough, and Regulus, who'd never been allowed anything besides vanilla, was adventurous and had chocolate. "You've really never had chocolate ice-cream?" Gideon teased good-naturedly as they moved away from the crowd.

"Never. And I can't believe what I was missing out," Regulus said between licks. He also wasn't used to eating from anything besides a dish, so he ended up with ice-cream melting all over his fingers.

Gideon cracked up. He offered him some napkins as they wound their way back to his complex. "Oh, good grief," he chuckled between sniggers. "Just come on up. You can wash up at the flat."

Regulus' cheeks flushed and not from the heat of the sun. He followed Gideon upstairs—cripes, the stairwell was sweltering—and waited while Gideon got his key out and unlocked the front door.

"Welcome to Chateau Prewett," the redhead said in a poor imitation of a French accent.

The younger male snickered. "Nice accent."

"Oh, shut it, you." Gideon pointed down the end of the short hallway that was the entryway. "Kitchen's on the right, but the loo's directly on the left, so have your pick of sinks."

Regulus nodded and went for the washroom. He washed his hands, and, once all the chocolate was gone, he took some toilet paper, dampened it, and swiped the sweat from the back of his neck. It felt wonderful to be inside, in air conditioning. "Feel free to turn the AC up, Gideon," he said, leaving the loo and entering the kitchen/living area. He stopped when he saw someone on the couch. "Oh… Hello."

A face identical to Gideon's stared at him, but something told Regulus right away this person wasn't Gideon. So it had to be… "How'd you know I'm not Gideon?" Fabian asked.

"Because I'm the good-looking one," Gideon joked from across the breakfast bar beyond the couch. He motioned to his twin. "Regulus, my twin brother, Fabian."

Fabian gave his twin a scowl. "I wanted to mess with him. You took all the fun out of it, Gid."

"Yes, yes, now play nice."

Regulus looked between the two. He wondered if Gideon had been expecting his brother home.

As if he'd read Regulus' mind, Gideon remarked, "Fabian's last class got cancelled. So here he is."

"Nice to meet you," Regulus said automatically.

Fabian tipped his head to him before returning his attention to Gideon. "You should've given me a head's up you were having company over. Dorcas is coming by tonight. I was going to cook."

"Then it's a good thing I'm here, huh?" Gideon glanced at the Black son. "Between the two of us, Fabian's the one likely to burn the building down. But I can cook. And poor Dorcas. Your cooking is going to force her to cook instead, brother."

Fabian made a face at him. "Oh, shut it." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked again at Regulus. "So you're Black's little brother?"

Regulus clenched his jaw but nodded.

"You don't say much, do you?"

"Fabian," Gideon warned.

Fabian shrugged. "Sorry, sorry." He still stared at Regulus, who was rooted to the spot. Regulus decided he didn't mind at all when Gideon stared at him, but Fabian seemed to scrutinize him. "So…do you still hang out with those nutjobs?"

The question came completely out of nowhere. "Sorry?" Regulus said, hating how weak his voice sounded. Gideon yelled at his brother in the background.

"Well, those types. Bellatrix. Lestranges. Malfoy. Nott. The various others."

Gideon stomped out of the kitchenette and over to his brother, his face red with anger. "Fabian! Bugger off!"

"Gideon, I'm just asking. Don't you remember that crowd? Sirius even pointed it out to us in the dorm and told us to stay away, that they weren't any good." Fabian looked genuinely concerned about his twin. "I'm just warning you."

"And you know what, Fabian? We just don't know Regulus well enough. We didn't back then, and we don't now." He puffed up his chest and walked over to Regulus, placing a protective hand on his shoulder. Regulus was stunned by the warmth of his touch. "I, for one, would like to change that."

Fabian rolled his eyes and raised his hands in an "Why do I even bother?" gesture. "Whatever. Sorry about that, Regulus," he conceded as his twin continued to glare at him.

"It's fine," Regulus said, but his response was rather automated, because his mind was fuzzy with Gideon standing so close to him.

Gideon groaned. "Look, Fab, I'll be right back and I'll cook your dinner for you two after I see Regulus out." He ushered Regulus to the door then, and they left the flat.

"He's not horrid, don't worry about him," Regulus assured Gideon.

They were still one flight from the bottom. "No, I should apologize. He's very blunt to the point of rudeness." Gideon shook his head. "I think we look alike partly to make up for the differences in our personalities."

"Well, if it's all the same to you, I do think you two look different. I could tell he wasn't you right away."

Gideon blinked, stupefied. "Really? How?"

Regulus snickered. "You are, as you said, the good-looking one."

There was a pause, and then Gideon burst out laughing, which worried Regulus for a second. "Oh, wow… You really are a funny one, Regulus."

"I think I'm being made fun of," Regulus groused with a pout.

"No, no, never…" Gideon stared at him.

Ah, yes. Regulus could never get tired of Gideon staring at him, even if it did make him feel a tad self-conscious. Case in point: He tugged the edge of his sleeves down, knowing there was still some dried blood under his nails.

Gideon glanced at Regulus' hands and took one before Regulus could protest. He eyed the thin fingers in his just-as-pale hand, though Gideon's hands were freckled where Regulus' were not. He thumbed Regulus' nails, and Regulus truly believed he'd been found out and that this momentary happiness would come crashing down any second once Gideon realized it was blood.

And then:

"Ah, you've still got chocolate under your nails," Gideon muttered.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut tight, guilt weighing him down. He tugged his hand free. "I'll take care of it when I get home," he clarified.

They marched down the last few steps, and Gideon parted with him at the glass doors. "Hey, Reg."

It didn't miss his attention, the nickname.

"I meant what I said, about getting to know you better. More than just lunch dates and ice-cream." Gideon smiled, and pain seized Regulus' chest. "Feel free to drop by whenever you want. I'm sure Fabian will get used to you."

Regulus didn't trust his voice, so he nodded. Then he turned and headed out. He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and waved at Gideon. Then he headed for home. The trolley ride home was unbelievably long, but it gave Regulus time to think…

…and the time to realize that it wasn't necessarily pain in his chest but heartache.

Riddle was proud of the stunt at the McKinnons'. Mulciber kept trying to say that he'd done most of the work, but the other senior members just snickered at him, believing Regulus to have proven his mettle.

Regulus could care less. His mind was no longer present at the meetings. In this era of drugs and free love and all that other bullshit, Regulus…was actually happy.

He was happy to have found Gideon. Gideon was someone who could elicit the rare smile from him, someone who'd barely smiled before in his whole life. And it was effortless for Gideon to make Regulus happy. Just being around Gideon did the trick.

But Regulus understood just how dangerous his feelings were. It might be 1979, but the time of free love was coming to an end, and it would be 1980 in a few months' time. 1980. Who knew what was coming then? Riddle had some new plan, some big plan set up for the end of 1980, though he'd shared no part of his plan with any of them.

Rightly so. Despite having taken Regulus under his wing, Riddle was right not to confide even in Regulus. Regulus had started doubting his allegiance to the Death Eaters before meeting Gideon. But now that he had met the kinder of the Prewett twins, Regulus had the most dangerous weapon in the world:

Hope.

Hope could drive a man to defy the odds and to defy his master. And Regulus Arcturus Black was thinking of just that.

Still, it was risky. No one left Riddle of their own accord. If they tried, they knew they'd be dead. That was why none of them had ever dared to think it before.

But Regulus was thinking of it now. "What's it like, university?" he asked Gideon in late August. They were at the flat, having taken over the living room. Not that Fabian minded. Gideon had ponied up twenty quid so that Fabian could take Dorcas to the cinema.

"Hmm. Difficult work." Gideon sat up from the odd heap they'd made on the floor, taking the couch cushions and throws and blankets to make some sort of nest. But it was comfy, especially with them reading quietly side by side, just enjoying the presence of one another. "But the things you learn—it's amazing. The world's changed so much just in the twentieth century. Can you imagine what it's going to be like over twenty years from now?"

Regulus didn't touch that. Truth be told, he was still afraid he'd be six feet under somewhere in twenty years, if not well before then. "Do you like it?"

"I do. The general classes I'm taking now make me feel as though I could be anything I want to be." Gideon laughed at himself. "Do I sound like a child? I sound like a child."

"You sound like a child."

"Git." Gideon shoved Regulus' arm, but then he brought Regulus back, hooking an arm around the smaller's shoulders. He reopened his book.

"Um…Gideon. I can't read like this."

"Oh, well. I can. So I win."

Regulus glared up at him. "You're such a prat."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Definitely." But Regulus wasn't struggling to leave the cage that was Gideon's arms.

"Well, whatever will you do about that?"

Regulus grimaced as Gideon went back to reading. Gideon always got the better of him, it seemed. So he turned in Gideon's arms, reached up, and—and he touched the side of Gideon's face.

Gideon's attention was back on him. His book was forgotten.

Hell. What to do next? Regulus had never been in love before. He wasn't even certain that he was capable of love. He didn't really know the emotion. Sure, maybe he'd loved his brother when they were little and before Sirius had left him to the mercy of their parents. But that was different. And this was Gideon.

Gideon put his book down. His face moved closer to Regulus'. Once more, those baby blues bored holes into Regulus.

Regulus held his breath…and then the moment was gone once he caught the sight of his hands. His nails were immaculate this time.

But last night they'd been coated in Edgar Bones' blood as he'd cleaned up after Avery's torture of the man.

The Black son turned away at the last moment, and Gideon ended up with his nose in Regulus' ear. The redhead cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat.

"No, it's—" Regulus stopped. What? "It's fine"? No, it wasn't. "It's my fault"? Well, everything was Regulus' fault.

But Gideon wasn't convinced that anything had been a mistake. This was made apparent when he simply resettled his arms around Regulus. "Another time, then," he said, and his words were more comforting than they should've been to Regulus.

Regulus…had never determined how Riddle picked his targets.

Some part of him believed Riddle liked to choose his victims at random. Other times, it made sense—like the McKinnons. Why wouldn't a criminal target a family of cops?

Then sometimes Regulus entertained the idea that maybe they were all carrying out the whimsies of a madman whose sole purpose in life was to exact revenge on everyone who had ever slighted him.

Whatever the case, Regulus knew he'd never fully understand Tom Riddle, and he didn't really want to understand him. He especially began to worry when Kreacher approached him at the end of August with concern lining his aged face.

"Master Regulus…"

The house was quiet. Regulus' parents were out, so Regulus was roaming Grimmauld Place freely. But Kreacher's expression had stopped him in his tracks. "Kreacher?"

"Kreacher's been summoned, sir… By You-Know-Who…"

Ah. "You-Know-Who." Another name for Riddle, for those who daren't speak his other title. "How? When, why?"

The butler shook his head. "Dunno, sir… The mistress told me before she left for the evening that he wanted to see me before your first October meeting…"

How odd. Or maybe not, at least in terms of how Riddle had used Regulus' mother as the contact. But why go through her and not Regulus? A sense of unease developed in the Black heir. "I see."

"Master Regulus…" Kreacher's eyes were wide with fright.

"Don't worry, Kreacher," Regulus said with a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing." But Regulus knew that was a lie. Why would Riddle want anything to do with someone's servant?

He continued to debate the reasons through the next several days, which made it hard for him to pay attention during meetings. Dolohov, greasy Russian git he was, rudely pointed out to Regulus his lack of attention, but at least Riddle didn't call him out on it.

Gideon noticed, too, his nervousness. They'd begun to have dinner over at Gideon's flat, sometimes with Fabian or Fabian and Dorcas, mostly without, and Regulus preferred to end his days and nights in Gideon's good company.

"You seem awfully jumpy tonight," Gideon stated, placing a plate of stew and potatoes before the lanky male who sat on the floor in front of the couch.

"Sorry," Regulus remarked without thinking.

"It was an observation, Reg, nothing for you to apologize for." Gideon sat on the couch, and Regulus could feel those eyes on him again.

"Stop staring."

"Then talk to me."

Regulus frowned, and he peeked up at Gideon. Hell's bells. He wanted to tell Gideon everything. But…how much could he tell Gideon before Gideon hated him?

"Regulus." Gideon was imploring him.

The Black son's shoulders sagged. "I…I'm in a tough spot."

"What sort of tough spot?"

"The bad kind."

"Can I help?"

Regulus leaned back against the couch, tilting his head left so he could rest it against Gideon's knee. "This helps, trust me."

"Regulus, I—" He paused and took a breath. "I care about you. I care about what happens to you," he hastily added.

Regulus weighed his options. He knew he could trust Gideon, someone who'd been so determined not to judge the book by its cover. "I'll only tell you a little."

"Tell me whatever you feel like telling me."

The raven-haired man put his plate down, not having even taken a bite yet, and faced Gideon, though he remained on the floor. He fiddled with his sleeves' cuffs again. "I…am involved in something deep."

Gideon blanched. "A relationship?"

"What? No."

"Oh. All right." Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. Good grief, he was beginning to be transparent to Regulus.

"I…am involved in something. And I want to break free of it."

"So…leave?"

Regulus shook his head. "It's not that easy. These people are—" He stopped just short of calling them killers. "They're scary. They're not afraid to hurt others."

Gideon frowned. He opened and closed his mouth several times. Then, finally: "Is it…your parents?"

That was surprising. "Why would you ask that?"

"I…" He fumbled for the right words. "Fab and I knew. About the abuse. Sirius told James and Remus and Peter, and Fab and Frank and I found out when we saw Sirius 'round the dorm. Sometimes he was in rough shape. And then he was better once he started living with James." Gideon reached for Regulus and started gingerly poking and prodding Regulus. "Are you hurt?"

Regulus swatted his hand away. "No. No, I'm fine. That stuff stopped years ago when I—" Oops.

"When you what?"

"I…showed them I wasn't scared of them anymore."

"Oh."

Regulus hesitated. "You…you weren't interested in me just because you thought I needed saving, were you?"

Gideon blushed. "No! No, I…" He cleared his throat. "I have to say, it was strange seeing you after all this time, but I…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, groaning. "Are you going to make me say it?"

"Yes." Now Regulus was curious.

"It was…love at first sight."

Well, hell. Neither of them had said anything until now. "Thank you," Regulus said.

Gideon gawked at him. "That's all you have to say?!"

Regulus grinned. "Maybe we can finish talking first?"

"Oh. Um, of course…"

Regulus closed his eyes, his grin fading. "It's a bad situation, Gideon. I think my only options are to stay…or to die."

Gideon gripped his shoulder. "I won't let that happen. You can't die."

"Then maybe there's a third option: Go into hiding. Or fleeing the country. Whichever works out best."

Gideon made a small noise in the back of his throat. "You definitely need to leave them, then."

"Yes. But I've nowhere to go." It was true. He couldn't go home. He had no place to hide—

"Well…you've got me. Stay here. Come be with me."

Regulus looked up at Gideon and saw the sincerity in his gaze. It was clear that Gideon meant his words and meant it as more than just having a place to crash.

But, while Regulus appreciated the offer, he wouldn't feel right. He'd only be putting Gideon in danger. "Fabian, too," Regulus told him.

Gideon's pout deepened to a frown and was borderline grimace. "Regulus, I…"

Regulus, timidly, reached for Gideon's hand. He'd learned by now not to look at his own hands, lest he doubt his deserving of this happiness considering all that he'd done in Riddle's name. But Gideon was offering him a new life, and the spark of hope in him was flaming up to become a glowing ember, hard to put out.

"Reg?"

Regulus gave Gideon's hand a squeeze. "I've got some things to think out."

"Please—use the utmost caution." Gideon leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his supper abandoned. He still had Regulus' hand in his.

Regulus reached up with his free hand and stroked Gideon's hair. It was the only thing he could "say" at the moment.

It'd been months, and sometimes it still bothered Regulus that they made no sense. Acquaintances, friends, something more—who in the world had decided that Regulus should find solace in the slightly stocky form of Gideon Prewett?

Whoever had, Regulus thanked them from the bottom of his heart.

And it was from the bottom of his heart that he summoned the courage to skulk about the Cave after the meetings, trying to dig up something on Riddle. It was the only way he figured he might make it out alive. Regulus was smart. He could manage blackmail. Probably.

After all, Riddle wasn't perfect, and he'd slipped up twice recently, mentioning his big plans, talk of "finishing his list" next year or so. So that was how things were. Riddle did have a list of targets he was working on.

Regulus mused about Riddle keeping such a list on his person. Maybe in that briefcase of his, in that notebook. But the more he mused about the idea, the more he didn't believe in it. Keeping something incriminating with him all the time? Riddle was definitely smarter than that.

As for the Cave—it was owned by Riddle. No one lived there, but Riddle and his Death Eaters used it. It was like a safe house, and Regulus could easily picture him hiding away his secrets there.

The weeks passed, Gideon's concerns grew, and Regulus' efforts felt futile when still nothing bore fruit. The Cave was as empty as its moniker implied—maybe there really was nothing there.

But Regulus' opinion changed when Kreacher came to Regulus before that first October meeting. "Kreacher's supposed to meet him at the Cave," the butler informed Regulus.

Ah ha. "Kreacher." Regulus rushed to the man standing in his doorway. He spoke in undertones. "When you're done there, come to me immediately and tell me everything."

Kreacher didn't question him at all. The only person the butler was truly loyal to was Regulus, the boy he'd tried to protect and who'd been the only being ever to show him kindness.

The wait was the worst, and Regulus tried to calm down by thinking of what might happen after. He had to think he'd live, he had to, for Gideon's sake—Kreacher's, too. After Kreacher was back, he'd send him far away. As for himself—he'd hide with Gideon for a while until he formulated a real plan. And then after… Well, he hadn't gotten that far yet. But something would come to him. He was sure of it.

And then the night came.

Regulus had just gotten home from an evening in with Gideon, an evening fraught with autumn chilliness and Gideon being ridiculous and saying he needed someone to warm him up and them being awkward and exploring a new territory that really neither of them were ready for and so had ended with a lot of hands in strange places and mouths just not quite meeting yet.

Kreacher had scrambled to the door as soon as Regulus had shucked his jacket. "Master Regulus," he bumbled. "Master…!"

"What is it?" he asked, placing his hands on the servant's shoulders.

Kreacher was out of breath. "He's… He's booby-trapped the Cave… There's a room… He's keeping things there… It's nothing I'd ever expect to see in Britain, in that calm neighborhood…"

Regulus waited until Kreacher calmed down. "Kreacher…show me."

They left at once for the Cave. Regulus halted and checked to ensure the coast was clear. Once certain, they entered. It was as quiet as ever.

Kreacher led him to the second floor, to a door in the middle of the hallway. Regulus had checked it before, but the door had always been locked. It hadn't bothered him much because, judging by the other rooms on the floor, the footprint of the room wouldn't have been very large, about the size of a closet.

Regulus tried the handle—and the door swung open silently.

Kreacher whimpered behind Regulus, who motioned to him to wait outside.

Inside, the room was no closet. It was deceptively large, about the size of a small office. In the center of the room was a safe. So. Riddle's secrets truly were tangible.

"Master, be careful!" Kreacher whimpered. And he saw the fear in Kreacher's eyes when he touched the safe.

Nothing happened.

Kreacher breathed a sigh of relief. "Can we leave now? Please, Master Regulus…"

Then the door swung shut.

Kreacher howled from the other side of the door, and Regulus barely had the time to turn around. He heard a switch flip, and he drew his hand away, expecting that maybe the safe would now be electrified. But that wasn't the case. A metal cage came crashing down around the safe, trapping Regulus. And that was electrified.

Being electrocuted was, indeed, a new experience for Regulus. He'd been beaten. He'd been cut. He'd been burned—that was a favorite of his father's. He'd been air-deprived—a favorite of his mother's. But electrocution was the best of both worlds—the currents felt like liquid fire through his veins, making him gasp for air.

Riddle cackled in the background. "Well, well… I've caught myself a rat."

Regulus could barely turn and face Riddle as the gate lifted. The electrocution had been intended to get his attention. Oh, he was attentive now.

"You know, Regulus, I had high hopes for you. The others, they're mostly brutes who'd prefer their fists or prudes who won't bother getting their hands dirty—the latter being Lucius' type, of course, and Mulciber the former. But you…" Riddle approached his writhing form on the ground. "You, my boy, I saw in you the possibility to be the next me. I even taught you the ways of the butterfly knife. I taught you how to dissect a person's hand. I taught you how to skin a person. I taught you all the places to slice so that someone might bleed out. But you know what concerned me the most? You took my lessons, but I never got to see you put your learning to good use. And then I thought, 'Ah, he'll grow into it.' Until as of late."

Regulus gasped for air, but air was returning to his lungs. He could barely get up from the ground yet, however.

Riddle peered down at him with a frown. "Haven't you ever had my desires? To flay someone alive? To get your own justice?"

Good grief. Riddle had a warped idea of justice.

"Come now. I know your parents. I know what they did. Are you telling me that you've never wanted to carve out your mother's eyes and drain the vitreous fluid from them? Or take that lovely knife I gave you—my first, you know—and make a horizontal slice across your father's belly and pull his entrails out like a magician's colored scarves?" Riddle hummed in amusement. "My, I quite like that image, if I do say so myself."

Regulus sucked in as much air as his pained lungs could handle in that second—and he bolted up, dodging Riddle, throwing open the door, and only wasting enough breath to yell at Kreacher to run.

They sped down the hallway and flew down the stairs, but Riddle was right behind them. Despite his age, Kreacher passed Regulus. Of course he would. He hadn't been electrocuted—or had he, before?

"So sorry, Master Regulus!" Kreacher gasped. "He tricked me! The safe was wired! He tried it on me!"

Regulus didn't blame Kreacher. He had understood the moment the gate had appeared that this had all been one large trap set just for him. Kreacher had only been used as a pawn.

Something whizzed by Regulus' head and nailed Kreacher in the back, by his left shoulder blade. Kreacher cried out in pain and tripped. The item was a small blade.

"Don't make me run out of knives," Riddle complained, and Regulus glanced back in time to see the older man draw a pistol from his inside coat pocket.

Regulus hauled Kreacher to his feet, leaving the blade in, in case pulling it out would be worse. But they were too slow moving.

Riddle fired off a shot, nicking Regulus in the right shoulder and making him fall forward onto his knees. "Ah, there we are. Groveling is a good place to start, Regulus," Riddle called to him.

Regulus grunted and tried to get up. But then Riddle was on him, and—with a vicious and audible thwack—he pistol-whipped Regulus hard enough that his head snapped back. Regulus fell in a lump on the ground.

Riddle tutted at his traitorous minion. Judging by the sounds Regulus heard, Riddle begun to open his butterfly knife. But then: "Hmm, never mind. I find Mulciber's way of doing things lacks finesse, but I just can't find it in me to waste my energy carving you up." He pressed the heel of his shoe into Regulus' chest and bent over, raising his pistol handle out and coming down swinging the handle into Regulus' head over and over and over again.

Eventually Regulus' vision reddened and then grayed. He stopped moving. He held his breath until it was too painful and until he couldn't hold it anymore.

Riddle eyed his handiwork and yanked Kreacher up. He wiped the blood off his gun. "You," he said to the butler. "Tell his parents. Tell the other Death Eaters. He's an example." Riddle sniffed. "I don't think anyone else will be turning against me again."

And so they left Regulus' body for the neighborhood and local authorities to find.

(But the body wasn't there by the time the emergency responders arrived.)

If there was one thing to count on when it came to Riddle, it was that his haughtiness got the best of him, and he always thought himself the smartest man in the room.

It was a small but comforting thought to which Regulus clung as he used back alleys and dragged himself to Gideon's complex. It took him two hours to get there in his current state, but he knew it was worth the pain.

Riddle hadn't put a bullet through his brain, and that had been his mistake. But, with Kreacher as witness, Regulus stood a chance of starting fresh somewhere new. His only regret was that, as Sirius hadn't done for him, he could not rescue Kreacher. Maybe someday…but not now. And that part of him he despised, because now he finally understood his brother's actions—or lack thereof.

He could barely open the complex's doors. Once he did, he dragged himself to the bottom step and sat there. God, it hurt to move. Maybe he could nap first. Maybe he could collect his energy before he saw Gideon. He could wash up, make it look not so bad… Then Gideon wouldn't fret so, he knew Gideon would…

Regulus closed his eyes and rested his head against the banister. He'd just begun to doze off when he sensed someone else.

"Reg…? Oh, my god, Regulus! Regulus!"

Shit. Goddamn it, Gideon. Such perfect timing… Regulus struggled to sit up and grin. "'S okay. 'M fine…," he slurred.

"Regulus! Christ, your head. My god, where have you been?! Your head's bashed in! Oh, my god, Regulus, there's so much blood—!" He could hear the sobs in Gideon's voice.

"Mm… Hey…you know my plans to leave? Let's have a change of scenery…"

"What do you mean?! We can't leave, we're going to a hospital, right now! Regulus!" His tone was too heartfelt.

"No…let's just leave…"

"What if those people, whoever they are, come after you? They'll come after you as soon as they find out you're still alive—"

"They won't… They won't find out…and my family doesn't care." Regulus smiled, dazed. "My brother…stopped talking to me a long time ago…and my parents will be glad to hear of my 'death' once Riddle tells them I betrayed him… Oops…" Regulus barely had his wits about him as he realized he'd told Gideon too much.

But the name "Riddle" meant nothing to Gideon—of course it wouldn't, when the public didn't know that name. "But—"

Regulus squinted up at Gideon, trying to focus on his face, though it was hard to do when it was so blurry. Regulus' smile was weak. "I hear…Scotland's lovely this time of year, Gid…"

"Regulus…!"

Regulus reached up and patted Gideon's cheek, only vaguely aware of the irony of it being his own blood on his hands this time.

Gideon leaned down, crying, and kissed him. It was a kiss with a promise, the promise that maybe Gideon agreed that it was time for them to start anew, somewhere fresh, someplace they'd start their own journey, safely away from this all…from this mess they'd called life up until this point…

WHOOPS. Cliffhanger. ;P But I kind of wanted to do something similar as I did with "broken bones to bemoan"—kind of open-ended…dangerously so. Is Reg alive? Isn't he? I liked the parallels with canon (even Edgar, who didn't die in '79, so I just had him tortured), though writing this AU of Voldemort's gang was just…wow. And Regideon. Wow. I like to think that Gideon got him medical attention and then they did flee to Scotland, but that's just one interpretation. MAN. The violence…I don't normally write violence, but this… Don't do drugs or commit crime, people! *hence the M rating* Also, I think Placebo is the only band to write Regideon to, man… Funnily enough, this was inspired by their song, "I Do," which is a very hopeful song, and thus befitting of this story… (The title is a line from the song.) Just wow. *still in shock* Hope you liked this, Morghen! ;] Not bad for a nonmagical AU, eh?

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: :') Deffo still one of (if not the) most violent things I've ever written to date, and this fic is 2 yrs old at this point. :O That said, a lot of this is a decent translation of Voldy's doings and believers for a nonmagical AU, I think. I just—I feel for Reg in this, so, so much. And Gideon, knowing about his childhood and sticking by Reg in the end, giving him the time and space to leave his "bad situation." In my heart of hearts, I like to think that they're all right past the ending here (same as the Marauders in "broken bones to bemoan"), but…at the same time, as with the other story, I can't realistically see it ending well. I just. ARGH. It feels great to have written something this dark, but it still really fucking hurts, man. ;w;

#hp #harry potter #regideon #regulus black #gideon prewett #<15k #romance #slash #angst #violence #au fic #sequential #rated: R #marauder era #3rd POV

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