Regulus Arcturus Black (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
royal_venant) wrote2023-07-09 05:58 pm
royal_venant) wrote2023-07-09 05:58 pm
(no subject)
Who: Regulus and Sirius (letoileduchien)
What: Miraculously, Regulus survived the cave, now he needs help
When: Fall 1979
Where: Number 12 Grimmauld Place
Rating/Warnings: We’ll see how this goes
Regulus had not anticipated this: surviving. He’d told Kreacher to take the locket and go as the inferi started tearing at him dragging him into the water. And in that moment, wracked with pain from the potion, Regulus accepted his fate.
But then suddenly the world had spun around him, squeezing him on all sides and stretching him at the same time and he landed hard on his hands and knees, on the carpet of his bedroom. The jolt made his stomach lurch and the potion and a good deal of lake water came rushing up to meet the carpet as well.
And a great shock of pain in his right hand signaled that maybe the inferi had already broken a bone or two.
Regulus coughed and sputtered and it wasn’t until he could breathe again that he realized Kreacher was throwing his head into the wood of Regulus’ bed in penance, crying, “I could not leave Master. I could not!”
It took all of Regulus’ remaining strength to reach out a hand to pull Kreacher from his self-flagellations.
“Kreacher stop,” Regulus choaked and fell into a fit of coughing again in which Kreacher did not stop.
It was a minute before Regulus could try again. “Kreacher, stop. I’m not mad.” Regulus had to try a third time, “Kreacher, you didn’t disobey me.”
And finally, Kreacher’s wailing became something more of a pathetic whimper. But blessedly, the house elf stopped making a racket and Regulus could finally think.
He self-assessed. The locket was thankfully in Kreacher’s hand and the house elf gently handed it over when Regulus asked for it.
Other than that, Regulus was in shambles: soaking wet, choking on air, a probably broken hand amid other injuries – bruises and deep scratches from the inferi at least one of which was a gash on his forehead, the lingering effects of the potion.
He tried to focus on what he needed first: finding help to destroy the horcrux.
Regulus felt a small pang of guilt for the next command he gave the grief-wracked elf.
He didn’t know what else to do.
“Kreacher, I need you to find Sirius,” he took a deep breath. “Bring him here, to my room.”
The elf was stricken silent, stock still. This of all things dried up the elf’s tears. Regulus wanted to take back the command the moment he saw Kreacher’s face fall, but he could think of no one else he could turn to.
“But- but, Master-” Kreacher’s voice was small, imploring.
“Kreacher,” Regulus said, pouring an apology into his tone. “Do it, I need you to get him.”
The elf didn’t put up any other fight but was gone with a snap of his fingers.
Regulus tried to breathe normally, calmly, but shivering there next to his bed, wet and bleeding, peace was far from reach. He did the best next thing. He reached up to his bed and tugged on the blanket. It didn’t come at first, it was a struggle to grip both the locket and the blanket at the same time, and he had recovered only minimally from his ordeal. But the blanket eventually came and he pulled it as close around him as he could, then settled in to wait.
What: Miraculously, Regulus survived the cave, now he needs help
When: Fall 1979
Where: Number 12 Grimmauld Place
Rating/Warnings: We’ll see how this goes
Regulus had not anticipated this: surviving. He’d told Kreacher to take the locket and go as the inferi started tearing at him dragging him into the water. And in that moment, wracked with pain from the potion, Regulus accepted his fate.
But then suddenly the world had spun around him, squeezing him on all sides and stretching him at the same time and he landed hard on his hands and knees, on the carpet of his bedroom. The jolt made his stomach lurch and the potion and a good deal of lake water came rushing up to meet the carpet as well.
And a great shock of pain in his right hand signaled that maybe the inferi had already broken a bone or two.
Regulus coughed and sputtered and it wasn’t until he could breathe again that he realized Kreacher was throwing his head into the wood of Regulus’ bed in penance, crying, “I could not leave Master. I could not!”
It took all of Regulus’ remaining strength to reach out a hand to pull Kreacher from his self-flagellations.
“Kreacher stop,” Regulus choaked and fell into a fit of coughing again in which Kreacher did not stop.
It was a minute before Regulus could try again. “Kreacher, stop. I’m not mad.” Regulus had to try a third time, “Kreacher, you didn’t disobey me.”
And finally, Kreacher’s wailing became something more of a pathetic whimper. But blessedly, the house elf stopped making a racket and Regulus could finally think.
He self-assessed. The locket was thankfully in Kreacher’s hand and the house elf gently handed it over when Regulus asked for it.
Other than that, Regulus was in shambles: soaking wet, choking on air, a probably broken hand amid other injuries – bruises and deep scratches from the inferi at least one of which was a gash on his forehead, the lingering effects of the potion.
He tried to focus on what he needed first: finding help to destroy the horcrux.
Regulus felt a small pang of guilt for the next command he gave the grief-wracked elf.
He didn’t know what else to do.
“Kreacher, I need you to find Sirius,” he took a deep breath. “Bring him here, to my room.”
The elf was stricken silent, stock still. This of all things dried up the elf’s tears. Regulus wanted to take back the command the moment he saw Kreacher’s face fall, but he could think of no one else he could turn to.
“But- but, Master-” Kreacher’s voice was small, imploring.
“Kreacher,” Regulus said, pouring an apology into his tone. “Do it, I need you to get him.”
The elf didn’t put up any other fight but was gone with a snap of his fingers.
Regulus tried to breathe normally, calmly, but shivering there next to his bed, wet and bleeding, peace was far from reach. He did the best next thing. He reached up to his bed and tugged on the blanket. It didn’t come at first, it was a struggle to grip both the locket and the blanket at the same time, and he had recovered only minimally from his ordeal. But the blanket eventually came and he pulled it as close around him as he could, then settled in to wait.