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Tom Marvolo Riddle stands in front of him menacingly, his crooked wand pointing directly at his throat. He, Regulus, is collapsed on his knees, arms hoisted taut at his sides, in chains. His eyes lull into the back of his skull as consciousness slips from him. In a rage, Tom raises his free hand in a fist, and pelts it down on Regulus’s mouth.
It collides down with a loud slap.
Regulus gasps out in pain, doubling forward as far as the chains would take him. He sees spatters of his own blood seep into the concrete under him. Tom revels in his pain, as a mangled cackle rings through the air. “You are a fool, Regulus! No different than your idiotic brother!” He screeches, eyes thinning like a snake’s. His speckled skin is chalky against the dim lights.
“You thought you could defy me? Me?!” Regulus winces as Tom snatches the back of his head and rips him up. The light pools into his eyes and sears his head. He’s so dizzy. Tom raises his wand warningly. “I have him here, you know,” Tom goes on, a viscous smile appearing. Regulus allows a dry laugh to escape him. He opens his eyes and stares at Tom indifferently.
“My brother is far away from here. He left.” At this, Tom cackles. He looks so satisfied at the position he has Regulus in. It’s almost intimidating—it would be, if Regulus didn’t have the beastial urge to rip out all of Tom’s insides until he was tangled up in them. “As arrogant as always. Some things never change.” Tom clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I’m not talking about your brother,” he goes on, his tongue dragging across his top row of yellowing teeth.
A deep sense of dread fills Regulus’s lungs. No, he thinks, that’s impossible. There’s no way he found James—no way he got to him. Regulus made sure that he wouldn’t be found. He made James promise that he wouldn’t leave, or go looking for him, or—
Tom seethes triumphantly. “I don’t even have to say it. You already know,” he says, almost happily. Regulus’s mouth trembles with a heavy pressure. His face pulses with reddening heat. He glances at the blood on the ground. There really isn’t a way out of this, is there? This is it…
“James Potter…” Tom says the name like he’s trying it out for the first time. He decides he loves the reaction that it gives Regulus, because he leans down in Regulus’s face and sneers. “James. Potter,” he spits like his voice carries venom. And it should. Because it hurts just as much. Regulus cocks his head towards his shoulder, eyes burning deep holes into Tom’s skull.
“You know…Even when he was on his knees, meeting with Death…” Tom stands up tall. He looks away, almost like he’s bored. His brows furrow. “…He still never even begged for his life.” Regulus’s throat becomes engulfed in flames. He squeezes his eyes shut, and hangs his head. Tom laughs at him. He takes sinkingly slow steps around him, watching him intently. He bends down again, and gets in his face just like before. “He didn’t beg for himself,” he whispers aggressively. Regulus winces from his voice being so close.
“All he did, that entire time, was beg for you.”
Regulus slumps further to the ground. His arms ache agonizingly. His knees are surely broken open and bleeding. He dares to pick his head up and look Tom dead in the eyes. Of course James begged for him. Of course he did. Because he just couldn’t be selfish for once in his life. He always, always had to put Regulus into first. And it’s gotten him killed now. Regulus frowns deeply. He grinds his teeth together before lurching himself forward. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” He screams, veins popping and throbbing out of his throat.
Tom raises an eyebrow. He’s bored again. He stands back up, and puts his arms behind his back, twisting his wand between his pointer finger and thumb. He looks down on Regulus, sticking his nose up in the air. Like he’s the very dirt underneath his fingernails. “I’d like to see you try,” Tom says, a snort following. Regulus would love to get a chance to try. If he got one, Tom would be in pieces, strewn out all over the floor. And Regulus would watch as Tom’s dear pet snake slithered around to feast on her dead owner’s flesh.
“I didn’t kill him. No,” Tom says, voice tantalizingly quiet. It’s calculated. “No, that would’ve been mercy.” Regulus swallows, and he tastes the faintest bit of blood. “I brought him here.” Regulus’s heart pangs against his chest. He picks his head up, and his eyes are wide. “You—what—where? Where is he?”
“Eager to talk now, hm?”
“Where is he?” Regulus challenges, voice just as cold as Tom’s. Tom smiles at this. He stops circling, standing right in front of him again. Slowly, staring into Regulus’s eyes with sheer arousal, he brings his arm out to his side. And at the end, he points to the double sided glass with a bony, crinkled finger. Regulus gasps out desperately. His arms yank at the chains again. But it’s useless. He has no wand; he’d never been able to master wandless magic before he was whisked away from school, and forced to become a Death Eater under Tom’s reign.
He’s trapped. He’s going to die. And if James really is back there, he’s about to watch.
Tom is still pointing, as it seems to really excite him. He breaks out into a mindless fit of giggles and screams. His eyes pop out of his sockets as his body folds in half. Regulus stiffens. Reluctantly, Regulus tears his eyes away from Tom, and stares right into the double sided glass. Somehow, he just knows he’s looking at James. And James must be looking right back at him. Tom’s fit dies down. He lifts himself back up, and his finger falls.
“He can see me?” Regulus asks quietly, still looking.
Tom nods. “Yes.”
“Can he hear me?”
To this, Tom gives him a sickening grin. He’s drunk on the power he holds over Regulus—effortlessly dangling it into his face, knowing he’s been incapacitated and can’t grab it. Tom is thriving right now. Regulus pulls his eyes away from the glass, from James. His breath picks up. He can’t do this, he just can’t. His chest heaves frantically. A muscle under Tom’s eye twitches.
“Down to every breath you take.”
It breaks Regulus’s heart. Truly, it does. Because James doesn’t deserve this. Maybe Regulus does, to some degree, after everything he’s done. But James—no. He’s been too pure and too sweet and too angelic. This life wasn’t made for James, as it was made for Regulus; as it was bred for him. James shouldn’t have to watch him die. It’s too brutal. Even for Tom Riddle.
And Regulus knows that if James didn’t beg for him, he would still be here anyway. Only, James would be the one in the chains. And Regulus would be the one watching. And though it might be a little selfish, he’s so glad that he’s the one in chains. Regulus would rather die than watch James get tortured. He’d rather be the one getting hurt, and beaten. He was used to it. Regulus was coaxed to take pain. He was raised to take beatings. He was imprinted to do as he’s told: sit there and take the torment. No matter how bad it is.
Tom’s snort brings Regulus back in focus. He blinks severely, feeling wet tears stream down his cheeks already. And he’s so disappointed that he’d allowed his emotions to carry him this far. He didn’t want to waste his tears in front of Tom. But here he is. And Tom relishes in it. Slowly, Tom brings a leathery thumb up to Regulus’s face. Regulus braces against the touch. Tom drags the pad of his thumb over his pale skin. He picks up a puddle of a tear. He’s staring into Regulus’s eyes as he brings the teary thumb up to his lips. And he licks it.
A satisfied hum comes after, and it makes Regulus’s stomach churn. “He begged for you so much, it felt like an obligation to comply,” he says simply. With a raw throat, Regulus attempts to make a protesting noise. Only a gutted mewl comes out. Tom cracks a smile. Then, in a split second, his face goes cold. With dead eyes, he leans down again, hands on his knees. He holds out his wand so that Regulus sees it. He swishes it around, then he slowly lowers it, and puts it in his pocket. Regulus wants to cry. He wants to scream.
“For the first time, I am going to indulge in the ways of my loathsome father. The Muggle he was…I’m not going to use my wand on you. Not just yet.” Tom glances at the glass, certainly to mock James, and his eyes flicker to Regulus. They go dead, completely void of anything—not even insanity, or excitement. Just…emptiness. Mercilessness. “I am going to tear every single limb from your body: I’ll rip your skin clean off, dig into your muscle, and lacerate your nerves until there is nothing left of you. Until he has nothing more to look at.”
Regulus’s body writhes. He’s panicking. He can’t think straight, not like this. “You thought you could undermine me. Trick me. You think you’re so smart. Do you feel smart now?” Tom twirls around in a circle, his arms out at his sides. Regulus hangs his head again. He feels the unconsciousness ebbing at him again. His mind goes foggy. His body feels so heavy, he could collapse at any moment.
“Speak, you dog!”
Tom’s foot smashes against Regulus’s jaw. He feels a click, and hears a crunch. Slowly, with struggle, Regulus picks his head back up, and stares up at Tom with defiant eyes. His throat warms up as he swallows again, new blood flooding down his esophagus. It tastes so rusty he could throw up. But he chokes it down. Regulus doesn’t give Tom what he wants. He only stares with provocation.
This enrages Tom. He stands up heatedly, and lets out a bellowing screech. He picks up a chair and slams it down on the concrete. A leg busts off, and flies across the room. He advances on Regulus, reaching out his hand. He goes for the throat, but freezes just as his fingertips graze Regulus’s prickling skin. “I’m taking my time with you. Traitor. Dirty, rotten, filthy—,” with his other hand, Tom crashes it against Regulus’s mouth.
His lip busts open with a pop. Splatters of blood fling through the air. It spills along Tom’s knuckles, like Regulus’s own, personal watermark. Regulus swoons, and his mind turns off. He thinks he passes out for a second before he hears Tom’s loud scream of euphoria. “I will be God! You will bend for me, you will break for me!” He shrieks like a madman. He snatches a fistful of Regulus’s hair, and reels his fist back.
Crack. He pulls back again.
Crack.
Again—
Crack.
Finally, Regulus crumples down to the floor. His forehead hits the ground. His nose and cheek are throbbing so hard. His ears begin to ring, a sound that’s long and high pitched—it seems endless. He can’t stop the tears from running down his face. He lets out a mingled cry, a plea that he knows no one will answer. And he thinks of James, right on the other side of the glass, watching helplessly. The image kickstarts his will to live. He’s sitting up again.
“James,” he calls clearly, despite how grinded down and stripped his throat is. The certainty in his voice makes Tom freeze in place. Regulus breaks his eyes away from Tom and looks straight at the glass. His eyes scan the entire thing, hoping that at least once he’s looked at James’s eyes. Tom stands up, and backs away from him. He seems eager to watch the tragedy unfold right before his eyes.
Regulus lets out a labored breath. His bloodied hair falls into his face, shielding the agonizing gash that Tom made under his eyebrow. He licks his lips and regrets it instantly. His face is full of blood. There’s just so much blood. “James…” It’s a strangled whine. He’s crying again. He can’t help it. His face screws up in pain. “James, please, if you’re able, don’t…please, don’t watch.” He shudders. “Please look away. Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see me like this.” The words all rush out very quickly, to his surprise.
“This is the real you, Regulus,” Tom cuts in. He keeps the distance between them. “This is what you really are. You’re a weak, pathetic, useless ragdoll. He deserves to see you in your true nature.” As much as the words sting, Regulus ignores him. He shakes his head—shakes out the thoughts. “If you’re looking… If you can’t bring yourself to look away, then…please, just…” He closes his eyes to try to find the words. He knows it’s going to happen. He knows this is the end.
He rips his eyes open again, and scans the glass. “Look at me as if I was still sixteen. Please. I was good, right?” And this is where he falters, and something snags at a loose thread deep, deep inside him. He’s coming undone. He can’t stop the wrecked sobs that regurgitate from his mouth, along with the scattered pools of thoughts.
“You’re proud of me, right? I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t regret anything. I did all that I could. For you. I don’t—Fuck, I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die, I don’t—Sirius. Tell—tell Sirius I didn’t cry… Please tell him that I stood my ground, and fought, and did good. I don’t want him to know I broke. I don’t want to break, I don’t want to die, I don’t—,” Broken sobs choke him. His head falls forward, but he pulls it right back up. He really, really hopes that James is back there now. Because he wants him to hear all of this.
“We’re kids again. We’re at your house, with your parents. We’re laughing, we’re flying, we’re—here. We’re here now. We’re so young. I’m gonna die so young, I’m gonna…die. I don’t want you to watch me die. Please, James… Do everything in your power to not look and see this. I’m still sixteen, I’m still good, I’m still young. I’m still alive.” His throat is a blistering volcano. His head aches impenetrably. His vision is so blurry from tears and heartbreak that he can’t even see the glass anymore. He can’t see what could be James anymore.
And the worst part is, Regulus can’t even picture how James looks. He only sees a crude silhouette. Something of a man, with crazed hair and round glasses. Something of a kind smile, with pearly teeth and deep dimples. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying so debilitatingly hard to see James—his James. He can’t. And it’s making him go feral. He grabs at the chains, and continuously yanks his hands together, pulling and tugging desperately on the cuffs around his wrists. He screams, he knows he does because he can feel his throat tear open, vocal chords stretched too thin and overworked. But he doesn’t hear it.
James is gone. He can’t see him anymore, he can’t picture his face. All his memories, all the times he’s spent with him, he can’t see James in them. Just a body. Just an impending corpse. Just a ghost of a gut wrenching, terrorizing, blood curdling memory. Just a figment; a flit in the middle of a long, agonizing line of times and people and places and things. All of this is completely useless. He’s dying for nothing—for no one—no one that he can see, or picture, or think of, or love.
He can’t love James when he’s dead.
“Enough of this,” Tom’s voice comes, slicing through the air. “It was entertaining while it lasted. He’s having a fit behind there, I bet. Probably screaming louder than you are,” he adds, much more light and feathery. Regulus cries more. He’s helpless. He’s heartbroken. He’s young. And he doesn’t want to die. Yet, here he is. He’s impending his death. It’s so close he can taste it, and see it. He can see his death, even though he’s still alive and breathing. He can see that, but he can’t see James.
“Diffindo.” Tom is holding his wand again, meticulously. He aims straight for Regulus’s arm. The spell connects, and a large cut sinks deep into his skin. Tom slashes him again with the flick of his wand. Again and again and again and again and again. So much for doing it the “Muggle” way. Regulus assumes Tom got too impatient. He thought he would. The deep, bloody cuts melt down into his sleeves. Tom advances on him, and wrenches up his left forearm. The Dark Mark rests dully on his bruising skin. Tom scoffs.
“You don’t deserve this.”
Regulus never wanted it. He never believed in it. Tom presses the tip of his wand into the bottom of the mark. And suddenly, a searing, burning pain rushes up his arm, and through his veins. He pants drastically. It’s so unbearable his vision turns completely white. Tom painstakingly traces his wand along the Dark Mark. He’s cutting his skin straight off of him. Just like he said he would. Oh, it’s going to get so much worse.
He takes pride in doing this slowly. He stops at the head of the skull, and just watches as Regulus’s body shakes violently underneath him. So many horrendous sounds escape from Regulus’s barren throat. He’s going to pass out, surely. But, alas, he doesn’t. Tom continues along the shape, pushing his wand down, making the cut even deeper. Regulus screams. He hears it this time. In and out, the sound of his horrors come and go, like he’s in limbo between life and death.
And still, Regulus doesn’t beg for him to stop. He won’t.
When Tom is done, he holds up his work in front of Regulus. And he could puke. The peeled, tattooed skin hangs, dangling in between the tips of Tom’s fingers. Regulus doesn’t have the strength to look down at the damage of his forearm. Tom suddenly drops the piece of skin, and it plops on the floor. Regulus thinks the limb tearing is probably next. He doesn’t know how much more he can take.
Tom holds his wand up, and plunges it forward. A spell slices through his side, right below his ribcage. He clambers onto the chains to hold himself upright. He can’t hear this scream, either. He can only hear his own voice in his head: Ow, ow, ow, ow! Fuck, shit, it hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts.
Tom whips his wand out elegantly—clearly, a different spell. And it’s somehow even worse. Regulus’s left hand flings up from the chain, and his fingers bend backwards until they snap. Another whip of his wand, and now it’s Regulus’s left elbow. It breaks and bends into a position Regulus didn’t even know it could be forced into. He throws his head up to the ceiling, howling in ferocious pain. Tom slashes his wand, and if it weren’t for Regulus falling forward from the constant pang in his arm, Tom’s spell would’ve sliced right through Regulus’s throat.
Instead, the spell misses, and bounces off the wall behind him. Tom lazily dodges it as it boomerangs back towards him. And in an instant, a dancing flame shoots out of the tip of Tom’s wand. He rushes forward, and grabs Regulus at the broken elbow. He buckles and wails. Tom takes the flame right under Regulus’s chin. The flames tickle and burn feverishly. Quickly, pain seeps its claws there, too. It singes and melts his skin so fast and deep that Regulus feels it breach through the first few layers of skin. Muscle territory. Regulus rips himself away.
Tom instead plants the wand at Regulus’s right knee, bleeding and cracked and battered enough already. Regulus shakes, and his head sears and swoons. His eyes roll into the back of his head. He can feel himself slipping. He can smell his searing, burning flesh. It’s sickening. Tom suddenly takes the flames away, then forcefully kicks and digs his shoe into the open kneecap. Regulus hears this scream, too. It’s probably the loudest, the heftiest. His voice is so broken, almost as much as his body, yet still not nearly as much as his heart.
Somehow, Regulus clings onto consciousness.
Tom lets out a chain of psychotic laughter. If this is how Tom handles a Slytherin, a Pureblood, a Death Eater, Regulus couldn’t begin to comprehend how he’d treat someone of the opposite description. Though, Regulus did betray him. He does deserve this. He knows that. But James is watching. James can see him; he can hear him. His heart breaks even further, into millions and millions of pieces, ones so microscopic that they couldn’t even be detected under a microscope.
Tom yanks him by the hair again, and forces him to look at him. He cackles, eyes wide with something so vile and sinister the feeling becomes somehow worse than all of Regulus’s wounds combined. “You’re still here! You’re up, you’re awake! You’re fighting. For what?! For him?!” He jabs his wand towards the glass. So James really is back there… It both comforts and petrifies Regulus to know it’s real—That James did hear him before, but he’s also hearing him now.
Tom shakes him by the root of his scalp. Regulus’s brain wracks against his skull. He feels like he’s floating. And simultaneously, he feels like he’s dying. “You’re a pest. A roach. You were talking so much before, now all you’re doing is screaming. Am I hurting you?” The question is ridiculous, enough to make Regulus’s lips curl up into a smile. “Not enough, I presume,” Tom mutters.
“Do you think it’s enough for him?” He asks, nodding over to the glass again. Of course it was enough. It was enough when Tom first struck him across the face. It was enough when he put the shackles on his wrists. It was enough when he breathed on him. James was probably going absolutely nuts on the other side of the wall. And, oddly enough, Regulus can picture this.
He sees James fully now: his dark brown hair is sticking straight up, his glasses have a tree of cracks on one lense, his face is contorted in the most tragic, yet beautiful way—horrified and broken and twisted. He can see him screaming, inaudibly, and shaking out of the grasp of whoever is holding him. He can see him breaking free, and throwing himself at his captor, throwing punch after punch. He can see him pummeling them, in their face and chest and arms and legs. He can see the blood spewing out, splattering on James like a piece of modern art. He can see him rushing into the room, and saving Regulus from the grueling torture.
But this is all just a hope. It shatters when Tom backhands him across the face. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on Tom’s. He smiles evilly. “I didn’t think you’d last this long, honestly,” he says, “Maybe I’ve underestimated you…” He takes Regulus’s chin in his hand, and moves his face around to examine him. “What a pity. You could’ve been beautiful. If only you’d just listened.”
“James—,” Regulus chokes out, longing.
“Stop calling for him! He’s not in front of you, I am! Talk. To. Me!” His voice is so loud, so heavy that it rings in Regulus’s ears. And in the heat of the moment, Regulus balls up a wad of saliva and blood in his mouth, and shoots it straight into Tom’s face. The action is quick. But it causes Tom to pause, surprised. His mouth falls open, and he snaps his head to the side almost hungrily.
He dramatically wipes the watered down blood off his face. “There it is! There’s the fight. Think you could escape? Think you could kill me?” Regulus stares at him defiantly again, his nostrils flaring. With a heavy sigh, and a sniffle, he breathes deeply. “I don’t care what you do to me. I don’t care how long I’m here. I don’t care when you decide to kill me.” He says this firmly, top teeth gritting against the bottom. Tom scoffs. He backs off, and paces for a few seconds.
Tom can’t break what’s already been broken.
“You don’t deserve a quick death,” Tom announces, voice riddled and woven with horror. Regulus assumed that much, at least. After everything he’s done, he surely doesn’t. But Regulus thinks about James again. And he can see him once more. He’s screaming, crying—face drenched in tears, sweat, and snot. He’s begging, because he will beg when Regulus won’t. Regulus can hear his voice: Please, don’t hurt him. Don’t you fucking touch him! Stop it! Stop, please, I’ll do anything! Just stop hurting him, please!
Regulus drops his head again, wallowing in the echoing makeshift of James’s poor, cracking voice. He won’t beg. He won’t ask for James to be whisked away: “Do whatever you want to me, just get him out of here.” He wouldn’t say that. Because that’s exactly the reaction that Tom wants. He wants him to plead with him. Regulus is too stubborn for it. Because regardless of what he says, James will remain there, forced to watch Regulus get brutally beaten and, soon, murdered.
Tom turns around, pockets his wand again, and goes to the corner of the murky room. Regulus hangs on for dear life, forcing himself to keep his head up, and his eyes up. What is he doing? How can I defend myself? Can I defend myself? No. He can’t. Tom grabs a rusted hammer. Regulus finally grows the courage to look at his broken hand and arm. The sight makes him so lightheaded.
His pinkie and ring finger are bent backwards, snapped in half at the knuckles. His forearm is straight flesh and mush with reds and blacks. The vague shape of the Dark Mark still lingers around his skin. And the ball of his elbow is raking against a bone it shouldn’t even be close to. His elbow is swollen, grays and purples and blues already blooming like they belonged there always, littering Regulus’s body. It’s a sweet welcome home. His body used to get marked a lot, from his parents and the kids around the neighborhood. He’d get abused and jumped. He thought that’d be the worst kind of violence he’d ever take—boy, was he wrong. So, very wrong.
His kneecap is surely busted open. His bone has to be sticking out. There’s something cold that jags up his nerves into his stomach. The image of his bones scraping against the concrete makes him nauseous. It hurts, everything hurts. And there’s more. Tom flips the hammer over in his hands a couple of times. “How did you escape the cave?” He demands, voice cold as ice. Regulus’s head pounds so hard. The question bounces around the ridges of his brain.
His body feels like lead. He gathers some strength, and yanks his hands together once more, pulling hard on the chains. He screams loudly, neck straining and skin pulling taut. Tom smirks, and drags a slimy finger over the metal of the hammer. He’s definitely imagining bashing Regulus’s skull in until his eyes squeeze out.
“How. Did. You. Escape?”
The words are slow and menacing. As if Regulus escaping was impossible. Well, he did. He’s here. He’s still young. And Regulus will die here, young. Tom will never get to know how Regulus escaped the cave. He’ll never know that Regulus was on the good side—he was good—and that he’d told Sirius all about Tom’s plans with the Horcruxes and clinging to life using death. He will never know that Sirius asked Regulus to run away with him, Remus and James.
Regulus didn’t want to run away. Running was something he’d always done as a small child, pathetically so. He was tired of running. “Riddle is after you. He’s going to kill you, Reggie, he’ll—,” Sirius wasn’t ever able to finish that sentence. Remus had pulled him back, and hugged him. And all Regulus did was look at James. Oh, James. His sweet eyes, and weak smile.
Tom will never know that Regulus lied to Sirius—he told him he would run away, only if Sirius ran, too. Sirius wanted to run, and told Regulus that he would. He promised that, by sundown, he’d be far, far away. But Regulus never had any intention of leaving. He’s reminded of the way Sirius looked the last time he saw him, only a handful of hours ago. He can see the way Sirius trembled, and how his hand clung onto Remus’s, terrified for the fate of his brother. Regulus had an inkling that Sirius was aware he wasn’t going to run. Sirius probably knew he was far too stubborn.
Tom will never know that Regulus told James he wasn’t running. He told him he lied to Sirius. He asked James to make sure that Sirius and Remus did run, and get someplace safe. He told James that he wanted to stay, and do something that could change the outcome of the war.
Surprisingly, for once, James didn’t fight with him about it. He didn’t argue. James didn’t understand, but he trusted Regulus. He’ll never tell Tom how he got out.
He’d told James all about it. There’s a Horcrux. A locket. Tom’s trying to become immortal. He won’t stop until it’s genocide. They’re all going to die. James had calmed him, and told him everything was going to be okay. “We’ve got Dumbledore. It’ll all be fine.” Regulus was crying. He told James, “I’m going to destroy it. I know where he hides it, I can do it, I can stop him. I can be good.” And he hears James’s voice clearly now.
“You already are, love.”
Tom will never, never know that James followed him to the cave. Regulus had gone in with Kreacher. They were supposed to come right back out. He’d drunk the water from the basin, to get the locket. And, oh, it was painful. So, so painful. He couldn’t see, or hear, or move. It was debilitating. He was screaming so loud. Kreacher didn’t know what to do. He’d panicked. He snapped out of existence, with the real locket. And after Regulus was sure he was going to die, somehow, Kreacher was back, and James was with him.
Somehow, James got him out of the cave. He wasn’t cognizant, he was barely alive. The Inferi, the monsters, the demons, the pain… It all stumbled and amalgamated until Regulus could just barely breathe. It was suffocating. In the end, Tom will never know how Regulus escaped the cave. Because he doesn’t know. James does. And Regulus will take all the suffering and torture in the world before he gives Tom the inclination that James had anything at all to do with it. Or else he’d be the one behind the double sided glass, watching James. Seeing him…
Tom holds the hammer up above his head. He swings it down. Regulus doubles over as the claw of the hammer wrenches down into his shoulder and collarbone. He winces deeply, eyes squeezing shut so hard that he sees stars. Pain reverberates through him, shocking him down to his core. He’s hyperventilating now, struggling to stay awake. He’s in and out. His head bobs up, then down, then up, then down. He can’t pass out. He has no idea what Tom will do if he does. But James will know.
Tom rips the hammer out of Regulus’s shoulder. He’s bawling. Tom cackles again, long and shrill. “How did you escape the cave?” He asks again in a small voice. Regulus gasps and gulps, feeling so deprecated. He shakes his head; he won’t answer. Tom licks at his teeth again. Regulus’s broken fingers twitch violently against the metal chains. Tom’s eyes go crazed; he sees red. “Filthy fucking—,”
In one motion, he twists the hammer around, and swings it like a golf club, straight into Regulus’s torn up knee. The face of the hammer rams right into it, and sends vibrating waves of hurt through his muscles. The sounds of the chains rattle through the air, as Regulus’s body sways to keep itself up. Tom is slowly breaking him down. He’s peeling him, poking, and prodding, until he’s been opened up and skinned like a wild animal.
“Answer me!”
“No.”
Regulus spits some more blood up, just on the ground by his good knee. He’s pushing it. But he’s hoping that Tom gets tired of him and puts him out of his misery. But that’s, of course, wishful thinking. “I’ll torture it out of you,” he says darkly. Is this not torture enough? No, of course it isn’t. His arm throbs, and his knee is absolutely killing him.
“I should cut your tongue out.”
But he won’t. Because then, Regulus wouldn’t be able to tell him how he escaped the cave. Regulus takes solace in this. He dips his head forward again. He spits again. There’s more blood than saliva now, it’s thicker and redder. Tom drops the hammer, bored with that, too. He sinks low in Regulus’s face. Tom’s cold hand clamps hard around his throat. He sneers, forcing him to look again. He snaps Regulus’s face towards the double sided glass.
“How’s he look, Potter? Enjoying the show?!” He screams, nails digging deep into Regulus’s skin. Regulus tugs his face away. If he’s starting to talk to James, and egg him on, he’ll soon get him caught up in all of this, too. Regulus couldn’t allow that. “Seeing your dear little friend here, dying by my hand… What does it feel like?” He’s met with silence, of course. Regulus’s heart simmers and pounds heavily. Quickly, Tom strikes down on Regulus’s face. His nails scratch right under his left eye. Regulus flings his head back involuntarily. “He’s not just your friend, though… Is he?”
Regulus shoots his head back up, maybe to show James that he’s still here, he’s still hanging on. He’s much stronger than Tom thinks. He’s too resilient. “What a beautiful tragedy. You, betray your master all for him, a Mudblood-loving swine.” Regulus sneers, and his anger gets the best of him. Somehow, he’s able to push himself up off his knees. His blown out knee cap smushes underneath the concrete. With a scream, he’s up on his good foot, leaning dangerously to the side. As he stands, the chains tug, already stretched out to their full length.
“You’re not my fucking master!” Regulus screeches, anger foaming from his lips. Tom steps away, blinking wildly. He looks surprised that Regulus has gotten on one foot, considering the state he’s in. But he still smiles, nonetheless, enjoying the challenge. “I could blow on you right now, and you’d fall down like a twig,” Tom says calmly. Regulus’s head spins, dizziness catching up to him and strangling him. His foot trembles beneath him.
He yanks with his broken hand, trying to get out of the chains. The cuff pulls and slides along his snapped pinkie. Pain shoots up his arm. He pulls again, and the cuff slips over his crooked ring finger. Tom isn’t paying attention to it, though. He’s busy looking at the glass. And his eyes bore onto the right, more on Regulus’s side. So that’s where James is. “It isn’t enough being a Blood Traitor, is it?” Tom says conversationally to the glass. Regulus doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t care. He just needs Tom to stop looking over at James.
“Dunno why you’d fancy James Potter, of all people. Look where that’s gotten you.” Out of that damned cave, at least, Regulus thinks. He doesn’t even know if Kreacher made it out safe… “Seems you attract Black’s, Potter,” Tom continues, glancing back at the glass, “First Sirius, now Regulus.” He looks at Regulus next, with sharp, pensive eyes. “You said he’s gone? And he didn’t take his dear brother with him?” Regulus’s foot starts to burn from all the weight it’s supporting. He hobbles, and almost collapses. But he saves himself.
He tugs on the chain again, his busted hand throbbing and stinging violently. His middle finger slips out. Tom smiles. “You had nobody. No one loved you. You were tossed to the side. You were forgotten. But I so graciously took you under my wing! I bred you with my own bare hands! And this is how you repay ME?!” Tom sends a flying fist right into Regulus’s nose. He hears a snap and pop. And Regulus can’t hold himself. His body goes completely limp, and he slumps to his left. As he’s going down, his kneecap is so gone that his leg just folds up like a piece of paper. His broken hand flies out of the handcuff from the sudden shift in weight.
And Regulus hits the ground hard.
He struggles to keep his eyes open. He blinks lazily. He can hear muffled cackling that tumbles into screams of desperation and despair. “I made you! I created you! I gave you everything and you fucked me! You—,” Tom bends over Regulus’s frail body. He raises his foot in the air. He’s going to stomp on his face. He’s going to kill him. He’s doing to die, he’s going to die young, he’s—,
“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!”
No. Tom sets his foot down, a crooked, twisted smirk on his thin, cracked lips. A door closes. There’s struggling. Regulus’s eyes sink shut, and salty tears gush down over his busted nose. It stings as it melts with the blood and open wound. James—why, James? Why did you beg for me? Why did you watch? Why did you look? Regulus’s life is ruined. James is here now, with them.
Somehow, he finds the strength to slap his broken hand down on the ground and push himself up. Tom swings around and bursts out laughing. “Bloody hell, he’s getting up!” He hollers, and smacks his knees with glee. Immediately, Regulus finds James. He’s standing, being held back by two Death Eaters, ones that Regulus knew were Mulciber and Avery. And James—he looks completely untouched.
It sends a shiver of relief through Regulus’s entire body. He wasn’t beaten, he wasn’t hurt. But the relief mangles quickly into desolation. If James isn’t hurt now, he will be. That’s what Tom was waiting for. James looks breathtaking, despite the situation. He’s been sobbing—just as Regulus had imagined: his face is slick with tears, and sweat. His cheeks are red and puffy with stress. He’s screwed up in terror, eyes wide and broken as he looks at Regulus.
“Don’t look at me,” Regulus mutters weakly, hand trembling from the pressure. His voice sounds garbled from all the blood in his mouth. It pours down his lips and onto his hand. James looks petrified. “You’re in here now, James,” Tom says happily, waving his hands around. “What will you do?” James’s chest heaves up and down. He says nothing, only locks his eyes on Regulus’s beaten up body. Please don’t look at me. Stop looking at me, he thinks helplessly.
“Just on the other side of that wall, you attacked my men. You swore to them that when you stood in front of me, you’d kill me. So…” Tom steps away from Regulus, and instead takes slow, calculated steps all the way up to James. With a flicker of his eyes, Avery and Mulciber release James. Tom cocks his head to the side enthusiastically. “…Do it.”
James’s face twitches, like he’s thinking hard about it. James has always been arrogant, thinking he’d never fail at doing anything. Regulus prays that James doesn’t act on it this one time. He’s wandless. He has to be. Tom wouldn’t be so stupid to let James in here with his wand. Tom nods knowingly. His tongue grazes against his teeth again. “All this barking and bitching and moaning… I’m giving you the opportunity, James. Do. It.”
Regulus’s eyes wander to Tom’s hands—he clutches his wand in his fingers, waiting for James to take the bait. Regulus wants to warn him. But all that happens is more blood spurts out of the back of his throat. Finally, his hand goes limp. He can’t hold himself up, and he falls. His eyes are hazy, staring into James’s like it’s the last thing he’ll do. It probably is. And he’s happy. His head slumps on the ground pathetically. Sparks and stars edge around his vision.
Don’t do it, James, he begs. Because the only person he’d ever beg to is James. He hopes he’s getting through to him, without even having to say a word. James looks back, frightened and blunt. His body is so stiff. He’s bracing—anticipating something. Regulus knows those eyes. He’s stalling. What’s he stalling for—?
“You hurt him,” James pushes out, his voice soft and strained. Tom bites back an eerie smile, waiting patiently for James to get to the point. Regulus coughs and hacks. Blood goes flying out in front of him. James looks past Tom, eyes focused solely on Regulus. He’s still crying, bated and battered breaths tearing through his lips. “You hurt him. Are you—are you okay?” His voice shatters painfully.
Regulus’s lips subconsciously pull up into a small grin. His eyes close in exhaustion. “‘M…okay,” he forces out, but it comes muffled. James shudders with a smile. He’s sobbing again, his shoulders shaking violently. “Don’t—look,” Regulus chokes out. James laughs weakly. “I have to, love, I have to look. I—,” he stops and doesn’t finish. He drops his head to wail. And Tom’s hand swings out from behind his back.
“Crucio!”
Time staggers now. Regulus’s eyes rip themselves open. Not James, not his James, right in front of him. But in a split second, Regulus sees that the wand isn’t pointed at James. It’s pointed straight at him. He lets out a crumpled gasp. And he sees James move behind Tom. The Death Eaters grab for him. And the spell hits Regulus like a ton of bricks. It’s excruciating.
He smashes his forehead down against the cold concrete. A horrified scream lashes out in the air. He squirms and squeals and writhes. His leg kicks out at nothing, and his nails drag listlessly against the concrete. His nails bend and break, and fingertips rip against the ground. He’s scratching, screaming, and flailing. No coherent words form—just screeches of strung out agony.
“Stop! Stop it, please, please, stop!”
James’s voice cuts through the pain, wrapping him like a bandage. His screaming halts to breathe rapidly against the floor. “Let me go—! Reggie, can you hear me? Can you—?” James flings his weight around, and it ends up knocking Avery down to the floor. It distracts Mulciber, enough for James to twist around and land a hard fist right into his temple. Mulciber drops to the ground. Avery scrambles to get to his feet. As he goes to snatch James by the hair, Tom yells.
The searing pain ceases for a moment. Regulus sobs, and repeatedly hits his head down on the concrete. It hurts so bad. “Release him!” Tom shouts. Avery jumps away from James, terrified. Tom eyes Mulciber, who’s out cold. Wordlessly, Avery moves to drag Mulciber out of the room. The door closes behind them. Once again, James is looking at Regulus. His knees give out underneath him, and he falls to the floor. He cries out viscerally.
“Regulus…” James croaks. Tom thinks it’s funny. He dramatically moves to the side, and motions to Regulus’s body. “Please, be my guest,” he says. James immediately gets on his hands and knees and crawls to Regulus. Daintily, his shaky hands come up to cup Regulus’s face. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re—,” he cries profusely. Regulus blinks, going in and out of consciousness.
“I’m right here, my love, it’s okay now.”
Tom snickers. James doesn’t pay attention to him. He cradles Regulus’s face in his hands, and slowly pulls his face up off the ground. A short gasp escapes him, as he’s able to really see the damage when he’s this up close. “Oh, baby…I’m so sorry…” James pushes his hair out of his face, and gently runs fingers through the matted strands.
“Relashio,” Tom spits lazily. The spell cuts through James, forcing him to drop Regulus’s head from his grasp. Regulus’s already bloodied face smashes against the floor again. James’s eyes go wide. “You know, you’re pitiful, James. You almost make me feel bad for going so easy on him.” This makes James’s nostrils flare. He snaps his head up at Tom with fiery eyes. “Easy?! You’re torturing him, you’re—,” Tom bends down and gets in James’s face; they’re nose to nose. “I am torturing YOU!”
James backs away. He shuffles to his feet, and steps away from Regulus. “You’re evil,” James says. Tom giggles. “I know. Isn’t it great?” James backs up still, wanting as much distance between Tom and Regulus as possible. James glances down at him. His face contorts again. He’s crying again. “Please, just stop. Hurt—hurt me. Beat me, chain me, curse me, hex me, do anything you want to me.”
“I already am doing what I want to you. And it’s working out beautifully,” Tom says triumphantly. Regulus rolls around on the floor, one hand still locked inside the chained cuff. “I don’t—I don’t understand. What do you want from him? From us?” Regulus ebbs back to reality. Slowly, he twists until he’s on his broken hand again, waiting for the strength to push himself up.
“You heard me before, you insolent clod. How did he escape from my cave?” He asks again, voice just above a whisper. James chokes out a short laugh, lips curling up. He combs his hands through his hair in a rush. “Are you—? You’re joking, right? That’s all this is? You’re killing him because he got out of your stupid fucking cave!?”
“That cave was meant to entrap anyone who ever stepped foot inside! He got out. How!?” Tom advances on James. There’s the strength. Regulus pushes himself up valiantly, a long screech falling from his lips. He’s up again, on both feet, his blown knee dwindling ruefully. “Because I’m smarter than you,” Regulus says, voice loud yet still bubbly from the blood sinking down from his nose. Tom twists around, once again surprised. He looks between the two of them with panicked eyes.
“Did you have a look in the cave?” Regulus croaks. Tom only blinks, waiting for him to continue. “The Horcrux is gone. I destroyed it.” He leans forward, eyes sharp and narrow as they dig daggers into Tom’s soul. Tom laughs nervously. “No you didn’t. That’s impossible,” he says simply. James backs away. “Regulus—,” but he stops talking when Tom throws up an empty hand at him. He stares at Regulus murderously. “You’re lying,” Tom says.
With adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Regulus straightens up again. “I already killed one piece of your soul. I’ll destroy the rest of you.” His eyes dance from James to Tom, trying to give him a signal. James mirrors his movements breathlessly. “You’re lying. I know you are. You’re a liar!” Tom yells. Regulus spits out more blood on the floor. His lack of kneecap buckles, and he swoons to the left again. He swallows, iron and rust rushing down his throat.
“I’m gonna kill you, Tom. And you’ll die like a fucking pussy.”
Tom jumps for Regulus, wand in hand. But James is quicker. He slams his entire body into Tom’s. Regulus jerks backwards to kick out the chain he’d broken free from before. The chain rattles and catches on the back of Tom’s heel. He trips and falls back, and James goes down with him. There’s a scuffle. James grabs Tom’s wrist and smacks his hand down on the floor. His wand goes flying. He gives James wild, snake-like eyes, pupils as thin as blades.
James straddles him, struggling to hold down his arms. Tom is screaming now, ordering James to get off of him. “I am the Dark Lord! Regulus, I will—!” James punches him straight in the mouth. His head bounces back, and hits the concrete. “Shut the fuck up! Don’t you dare say his fucking name!” James screeches. His hands ball up into fists as he pounds down into Tom’s face brutally. Blood smears and splatters out from Tom’s nose and mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you! I’m going to—!” James screams after, which only fuels his rage.
His fists come down sporadically, sometimes missing Tom and crunching down into the concrete. Regulus sees Tom’s wand a little ways away from him. He gets back down on the floor, and stretches himself out. He goes with his feet first. This forces him to see his knee. He freezes, and feels his body go into a splurge of red hot agony. It’s mush, it’s muscle, it’s nerves, it’s bone, it’s gone. His entire knee, concave and missing. He grows lightheaded.
James makes a crumpled noise. Regulus looks over to see they’ve switched—Tom had been able to wrestle himself on top of James. His hands go straight for James’s throat. He pushes his entire weight down into his windpipe as he squeezes with the intention of killing him. Regulus stretches himself further. The ball of his foot hooks onto the wand, and with one final lurch, he’s able to jerk the wand up close to him. He fumbles quickly, swinging himself around to snatch the wand. Ignoring all the pain everywhere, he’s on his feet again. He points the wand at Tom’s head.
“Immobulus,” Regulus chokes out.
Tom’s body goes completely still. James shoves Tom off of him, and he falls on his side, body stuck in the same position. Regulus is surprised that Tom’s wand even listened to him. His chest falls maniacally. He’s hyperventilating again. James gasps for breath. He holds his own neck, and starts coughing endlessly. Regulus moves the wand to point at Tom again. Without much thought, with so much hatred, and contempt, the grip on the wand’s handle tightens.
“Avada Ked—,” James scrambles to his feet, and rushes to Regulus. He’s there in time, to grab his wrist, and take the wand away from him. James breathes heavily, and holds the wand towards the remaining chain on Regulus’s wrist. “Diffindo,” he whispers rawly. The chain busts open and falls to the floor. James tosses the wand carelessly across the room, away from all of them. Instead, he holds Regulus’s face in his hands again, thumbs soothing his skin. They stare at each other eagerly. James’s eyes well up with tears again. His lip trembles as Regulus’s injuries finally start to catch up to him.
Suddenly, there’s muffled commotion right outside the door. Regulus sways left and right. James holds him up. “We’re here!! We’re in here—hurry!” James screams. Regulus’s head drops, and his legs give out on him. James falls down with him, holding him still. The door busts open. Familiar faces show through the doorway—friends from the Order. McKinnon, Kingsley, Frank, Alice, Molly, Arthur, Dumbledore, Remus, and Sirius.
Immediately Sirius’s eyes land on Regulus and James. Everyone marches over to Tom’s frozen body. They wrangle him up hastily. “Confiscate his wand,” Kingsley says. Alice moves past to get it. Sirius and Remus bolt for James and Regulus. Sirius is already on the floor, hands on top of James’s on his little brother’s face. “Reg—Reggie? Are you—?” Sirius looks back desperately at Remus. “Fuck, he looks bad. It’s bad, Remus, it’s—,” Remus hurries to kneel down beside him. He shushes him. He holds Sirius in his arms.
Remus and Sirius’s attention fall on James. He’s trembling, eyes boring into Regulus. He’s worried. He’s heartbroken. “James—,” Sirius tries, but Remus lightly tugs at him to quiet him down. James looks traumatized, fingers shaking as they gently trace the wounds on Regulus’s face. His knuckles are busted open and cracked with thick blood. James’s eyes fill with unfallen tears. Regulus’s labored breathing is dry and weak.
Finally, he’s able to crack open his eyes. He sees James first, and a brittle smile appears. James laughs wryly. He holds Regulus closer to him, tighter. Sirius lets out a deep, relieved breath. He clasps his heart. “James…” Regulus murmurs, eyes hazy and dim. “Yes? Yes, love, I’m right here,” he says quickly. The Order members are able to get Tom securely out of the room. There’s no doubt they also got Avery and Mulciber into custody.
“Holy fuck, Remus, his knee,” Sirius hisses. Regulus’s head spins. “I didn’t kill him, did I?” Regulus asks coarsely. James blinks, and the tears begin to fall. “No,” he says, “no, baby, you didn’t.” He cradles him gently. Regulus closes his eyes again. “Fuck, fuck, his nose. His fucking nose. His knee, his—God, look at his arm,” Sirius rambles horrifically. Remus shushes him again, trying to comfort him.
“Sirius?” Regulus asks, squeezing his eyes. “James, I don’t want him to look,” he adds weakly. “I’m already looking, Reggie, you look—,” he shudders deeply, and doesn’t finish his sentence. Sirius pushes his hair off of his face. “Why did—how did he get him?” Sirius asks James. He sees the chains. He sees the dried blood—pools of it. And in horror, his eyes fall on the patch of skin that had been attached to him just a few long moments before. James shakes his head. “He went to him on his own,” he mutters softly. Sirius weeps silently next to them, hand buried in Regulus’s hair.
“Guys, we have to get him to St. Mungo’s,” Alice says from the doorway. James shakes his head again. “We can’t move him, he’ll… Remus, I can’t hear him scream one more time, I…” Remus nods in understanding. “Can you get Dumbledore, please?” Remus asks Alice, who offers a curt nod in response. Remus slowly peels Sirius off of Regulus. “Come on, let’s speak with Dumbledore. He’ll know how to help him,” Remus says gently.
Alone again, James holds him tightly. He just weeps over top of him, with a mixture of anguish and relief. He can hear Regulus’s breathing, though it’s slight. He’s still here. He’s still alive. He’s still good. He’s still young. Only, he isn’t sixteen anymore. He’s simply a year older. He didn’t die. Not yet. Hopefully not anytime soon. A little ways behind them, Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore are in deep conversation. James plants a light, feathered kiss on Regulus’s forehead. “Regulus,” he says breathlessly. Regulus struggles to give him a hum; he’s listening.
“I love you.”
Regulus smiles weakly. His voice is found, raw and ripped.
“I love you, too.”