Chapter Text
Regulus had always been the spare.
He knew it.
Everyone knew it.
But being an Omega meant something worse—people never imagined the Blacks would be desperate enough to name their Omega as heir to a fading family legacy.
It wasn’t unheard of, but by Black standards, it was unthinkable. Omegas were meant to be cherished, soft and malleable, bartered for alliances. They weren’t bred to lead; they were meant to be protected, kept free from the burdens of power, so they could focus on raising the next generation.
That wasn’t Regulus’s fate.
He’d always dreamed of a family—a child to hold, a mate to care for, a life of safety away from the oppressive darkness of the House of Black. But dreams were indulgences, and he quickly learned he’d have neither.
He’d been thrust into a war he never wanted, stripped of his choices, branded by the Dark Mark, and forced to shoulder a title he despised. And now, as water clawed its way into his lungs, inferi dragging him into the abyss, he realized the depth of his sacrifice.
It had been an accident, the way he’d uncovered the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes. The man had taken an interest in him—an unsettling one. Not sexual, thankfully, though Regulus knew it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord made his claim. Willing or not.
The man’s presence had been suffocating, his corrupted scent an affront to every instinct Regulus held dear. His Omega bristled at it, snarling within him, “Bad scent. No strong pups. Unsafe!” But he played along, feigning submission, enduring the tainted touch and the hollow praise.
In those moments, he missed Sirius most. Sirius, with his bold, blood soaked smoke scent—strong, protective, brimming with the Black magic he loved to deny. Sirius, who had always made him feel seen, cherished, loved.
The Dark Lord had promised him immortality, proposing they rule side by side. An eternity of servitude wrapped in the guise of devotion. Regulus had lied through his teeth, murmuring something about needing his mother’s counsel while their father withered away in sickness.
That was when he began to plan.
Kreacher had been his only confidant, the only soul he trusted when the Dark Lord used him to hide the Horcrux. And now, here he was.
Regulus Arcturus Black.
R.A.B.
The Dark Lord’s reluctant Omega.
The spare.
The disappointment.
Reggie.
His vision blurred as claws dragged him deeper, each gasp a cruel invitation for the lake to fill his lungs. The burn in his chest gave way to a quiet, terrifying calm.
In his final moments, he thought of Sirius.
Of his wicked grin and fierce love. Of the warmth in his embrace, the way he made Regulus believe that, for a moment, the world could be good.
If he could do it all over again, he’d give anything—everything—to see that love in Sirius’s eyes once more.