Chapter Text
Regulus couldn’t tell how long he had been underwater, but it felt like he had been slowly drowning for far longer than he had ever breathed the air on the surface. His eyes were fogged over and glassy, but he could still see a film of dark green surrounding him, consuming him. The view above him hadn’t changed in all the time that he had been frozen in that putrid water, mostly just darkness above him, only occasionally interrupted by the shifting of one of the corpses that lived in the water around him.
After so long of being unable to even blink, he often found himself falling into an almost meditative state, his mind trying to block out where he was trapped. Regulus tried not to think about the Inferi, but sometimes one would brush past him or disturb the water, jolting his mind into awareness. The panic that would fill him from being petrified while surrounded by those poor, decaying creatures was overwhelming. The terror of being unable to even breathe made him feel like he was suspended in an endless anticipation of death. He was sure that if he was able to cry, he would have sobbed himself ragged years ago.
Flashbacks from when he was first dragged into the water terrorized his memories. Sometimes it felt like it had only happened minutes ago, other times it felt like decades had passed. He remembered the desperate thirst from the potion. Now, he knew that it was likely all in his head, but at the time, it seemed that if he didn't drink any water, he would perish in seconds. If he had known the Inferi haunted the lake, he never would've gone near it. Flashes of that first grey and withered hand striking out of the water towards him like a coiled snake would be perpetually burned into his mind. Then more and more of those creatures had risen from the water and grabbed at him. And now, still floating in the lake, he swore that sometimes he could still feel their rubbery hands clinging to him.
Regulus tried to prevent his mind from drifting to his situation or wondering what was happening out in the world. Would he be entombed there, lifeless but awake, forever? Had the Dark Lord won the war? Did his brother think that he had died a Death Eater? Was Sirius even alive?
Sometimes he wished that he could scream. Maybe nothing even intelligible, but he would give anything to just tell Sirius what had happened to him. That he had changed. That he had betrayed Voldemort. To beg his brother for forgiveness. To ask if he was proud of him.
The true suffering of Voldemort’s spelled lake was not merely being trapped there but being eternally tortured by his own mind with no hope in sight.
There were moments where the doubt would creep in. Some cruel part of his mind would ask him if it had been worth it to deceive the Dark Lord, suggesting that he would have been a prince among filth if he had continued helping Voldemort succeed. But Regulus was stubborn and persistent. Even at only eighteen, he was far more clever and perceptive than the majority of people around him. Not even the Dark Lord himself had suspected that Regulus was secretly trying to kill him, and Regulus was willing to bet that he had been the only one to ever discover his secret. If he had been able to move, the thought would have made smirk in satisfaction. It may have been arrogant but outsmarting the supposedly most powerful dark wizard of all time when he was barely out of school made him feel like he could take on the entire world. It was that feeling that kept him going, not that he had much of a choice. But he clung to his superiority and triumph like it was a lifeline. It was probably the only thing that kept him sane.
Regulus often imagined Voldemort’s face when he learned that Regulus had discovered the horcruxes. He pictured himself spitting in his face and laughing while smashing that silly necklace to pieces. Regulus had never punched another person in his life, that was far below his pureblood upbringing, but what he wouldn’t give to feel the Dark Lord’s face crunch beneath his fist. Regulus knew that these daydreams were a little deranged, but there was only so much his mind could conjure to entertain him. Of course, he’d let Kreacher have the final honours. The elf deserved it after Voldemort had left him for dead.
The house elf had been his only friend after his brother had left. Regulus had never felt like he fit in with the rest of the Slytherins. From his first year, he had been pushed into the group of future Death Eater students that was led by his cousin, Bellatrix. But they had all seemed quite… stupid.
There was that arrogance again. He knew that his pride was what had allowed him to be tempted by their fanaticism, but Regulus couldn’t help the fact that everyone around him was absorbed in their own poorly conceived fantasies of power and petty delusions. It just made them seem foolish. Severus Snape was a prime example of this, in his opinion. So obsessed with that Mudblood witch that he found himself in a constant pissing match with James Potter.
James.
Maybe the house elf hadn’t been his only friend. But sneaking around behind not only his brother’s back, but the entire school, had overwhelmed that… friendship with deceit and hesitancy.
If Regulus could physically shake himself out of a thought, he would have.
He had been far more concerned about bringing honour to his family and the Wizarding World as a whole anyways. Regulus knew that he had been seduced from a young age by the promises of the Dark Lord. It made him want to curse himself for being so easily influenced; he knew that he was better than that. No wonder Sirius had drifted away from him in disappointment.
Drifting.
Even his own thoughts wouldn’t always let him escape his reality. Regulus let his mind sink away into nothing. It was easier to just float in the void than think about what could have been, what should have been. The green water bled through the edges of his vision as the nothingness took over.
He wasn’t sure how long he had let himself vacantly hang in the water when he heard muffled voices from above. If Regulus had thought he wanted to scream before, it was nothing compared to now. He wanted to plead and beg and howl for mercy, for them to pull his body out of the lake.
He didn’t even know what would happen to him if he left the enchanted water, it was very possible that he would just die upon reaching the surface with the spell no longer preserving his life, but anything would be better than being trapped there for eternity. After sitting in his regret and guilt for so many years, he would welcome Death if it came to him.
It felt like hours listening to their muted words. He could see the hull of the boat making its way across the lake to the island, the ripples disturbing the water. Regulus wished he could tell them that the necklace was gone, that the one left was a fake, that they shouldn’t drink the potion. The boat was getting closer and closer. If he had been able to move, he could have reached out and grabbed the side of it.
He saw a figure lean over the edge of the boat above him, but their light behind them was obscuring their face from his view. Regulus wondered what they saw looking down at him. Did he look the same as he had when he was first entombed? Was he starting to look like the decaying Inferi surrounding him?
He wanted to cry. The torment of watching his first potential saviour above him, seeming to make no move to pull him from the water, was worse than all the anguish that he had suffered so far.
Please, please, please.
Finally, he saw a hand reaching down. It seemed like it was moving towards him in slow motion, hours passing before their fingertips breached the water. With either death or freedom rapidly approaching, Regulus felt nothing but relief at the thought of each possibility.
Their hand wrapped around the front of his robes and pulled him upwards. The warmth of their skin, even through his clothing, was like a hot iron compared to the cold touches of the Inferi.
Regulus’ first sputtering breath on the surface was an unknowable liberty. He was laid down on the bottom of the boat, his head flopping backwards and limbs splaying out awkwardly. Even the cool, damp air of the cave felt like a warm embrace on his skin. However, his freedom didn't last long when darkness started to invade the edges of his vision. As unconsciousness began to engulf him, Regulus saw his saviour bend over him, his face visible for the first time. He could hardly believe who was above him.
“James…” he managed to rasp before he fell into oblivion.