My body's cold my guts are twisted steel

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*There is a rule of thumb out there among the vast majority of people, that if you are meeting with anyone you suspect could be unsafe to never bring them anywhere secluded, and to never meet at night. Just in case. Regulus, however, raised among his father's pride in privacy and whose undesirables are most often not anyone he could take into public without exciting mass terror, is forced to face his fears and brave a meeting in the most desolate place he can think of, last at night, just hoping he won't need the safety blanket of a crowd or light this time.

The diadem, far from it's resting place in Albania, is wrapped in cloth but feels cold and heavy as lead in his black gloved hand. He hurries the Dementors in his mind, needing them to get rid of the thing inside the crown's metal as soon as possible. Every so often the rotating beam of the lighthouse roves over the cliffside coast he waits on, momentarily illuminating his surroundings and glinting off his pale face and the new strands of white that have made an appearance at his temple before making it's way back out into the North Sea. Far beyond the coast, much too far to ever see, Azkaban juts out of the freezing water, impervious to wind and waves. Regulus is not nearly as stoic, shivering there in the dark, but he knew he must come here, as close to the prison as he could, to make his point. He has an offering to make, as well as a demand, and he only hopes to make it back after he's made it.*

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[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The lighthouse is ceaseless, its beacon comfortingly rhythmic and dependable. At first it only seems like a trick of the light, his weary eyes unused to contrast between the high beam and the utter blackness. It starts as a spattering of black silhouettes - they last only for a moment and, as the cycle starts anew, they disappear.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*He knows he'll feel them before he really sees them, but it's hard to judge the lowering temperature out here at the mercy of the brine-heavy wind. He pinches the diadem between his fingers, and stares intently at where he thought he had seen something, waiting for the light to come around again.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*As the light spins back it reveals nothing but open, sea-misted air for miles.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*He lets out a breath, dropping his chin to his chest to repeat to himself again what he wants to say, hoping repetition will make him braver but honestly finding it makes him more and more afraid.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The breeze bites down hard and somewhere, further than he can see, a large tanker lets out a low, solemn groan which echoes back to him only faintly.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*Though it's an hour to midnight, the sea sparkles with a warm, brownish light - separate from the pure yellow beam of the lighthouse. A Hufflepuff girl, all cheeks and brown hair, folds her arms over her chest crossly, stepping into his path, "When have I ever threatened you"*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*He actually drops the Horcrux into the earth, dropping to his knees to retrieve it as the girl fades away and Reglus sees the whisping curl of a cloak in front of him in her stead.

He gets back to his feet slowly, trying to gather himself enough to answer, imagining Grimmauld Place clearly in his mind's eye.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*Another memory swims and bleeds into his vision, a dark dormitory taking shape from the Dementor's cloak. Barty's eyes are luminous in the half-light, he's holding a pile of festive baubles and the dungeon smells faintly of apple cider. "What do you mean I can't visit you this year? AS YOUR BEST FRIEND I HAVE EXCLUSIVE CHRISTMAS-VISITING RIGHTS."*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*The Regulus then shakes his head, but his words come from the mouth of an old Quidditch team mate, said teasingly in the locker room in reference to Hufflepuff's two new huge Beaters who would later attempt to keep Regulus down just feet off the pitch and away from the Snitch by threat of Bludger. "...track you like an Animal, they will."*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*Regulus is subjected to the now all too familiar sensation of thoughts being pulled from his brain, faster and faster, like a muggle magician's rope of colourful handkerchiefs. They're fed back to him in disordered clips as the Dementor replies, "-we are-" "-only?" "Attempting to ensure-" "-your safety-" "-we-" "FIND OURSELVES" "-greatly invested," "Innit."*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*"From now on-" "Stay away from-" "My family." "Just what do you think-" "--" "-protection?" "-from."*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*His mind's eye cuts to Victoria, mid-sneer and mid-sentence, "-yourself."*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*"You're-" "-insulting!" "It's not me, it's-" "-others."*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*"-you-" "-taste?" "SUSPICIOUS." "Even mere-" "-mortals-" "-can feel it." "It would be your-" "-fault," "Should the others-" "...become problematic."*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*"You make me-" "SUSPICIOUS." "I've been working for-" "-aaaaages-" "I don't need-" "-you're making it worse!"*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*A choir of voices swell up in response, a myriad of tongues and mouths laughing, the word 'weakness' whispered, shouted and spoken at many different decibels and by many different people.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*He can't defend this, not with such overwhelming evidence forced back through his brain, mentally berating him. All he can do is tense, hold his breath, and try to shove proof at them even if they continue to laugh in his face. He had never assumed dealing with Dark creatures was going to be nice.

"I found it."*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The voices and memories stop and the real world begins to take shape again. However the sound of horribly familiar, yet distant groaning is detectable - as if the water below them is filled with Inferi, surfacing as they're scrapped against the rocks.

Only a single Dementor towers above him, rasping horribly as it bends down to pick up the Diadem, long, mummified fingers stroking and feeling at its contours with interest.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*He clenches his jaw, keeping his back to the cliff's edge and trying to keep his thoughts to himself. They filter easily to the Dementor's minds, though, such simple human reassurances, so bold to assume saying it will be okay makes it so.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*These thoughts are nothing new, the amusement they once held having worn thin over millennia. It doesn't bother to reply. Instead, images and words and memories - unknown to Regulus, clearly stripped from some other unfortunate soul - is fed into his brain. Children splashing, the colourful twist of water slides, enormous brass facets rising up from the middle of a pool like metal coral. The intention is clear.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*A Regulus looks up, looking much younger than his nine years of the time, and asks hesitantly as he tries to bargain with Sirius over something much less substantial than what is on the line tonight. "...And if I go, you'll leave me alone?" Then he whispers to Barty, the memory dark even as the lighthouse sweeps over them again. ""*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*"-leave?" "That won't be happening," "-you have-" "SOLD!" "-yourself-" "-to us." "I would never-" "-harm-" "-something so USEFUL." "-but we can't-" "-leave?"

The memories suddenly stop and Barty laughs, flicking a bit of eraser across the desk. He expertly hits Regulus on his quill hand, disrupting his note-taking, "You're stuck with me forever, you know."*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*Barty's gone before Regulus can even look at his face long enough to dampen the icy meaning behind that statement, but it's fading memory inspires him to one last shivering stand.

"I understand. But-" "It's only me -" "YOU MUST NEVER-" "-go-" "-near my-"

"-people." "That's the rule."*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*A coy voice now, of some long forgotten relation standing high above a five year old Regulus, "All of them? Really?" Suddenly all the less than charitable thoughts Regulus has directed towards Victoria over the months flow through his head, so cluttered and numerous that only the over-arching sentiment is visible while the individual words remain clouded.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*Later he will remember his answer coming faster than it really does.

In reality it takes a moment, a moment of reminding and an attempt to remember Victoria when she is silent, and in her thoughts. He's spent just as much time trying to understand her strange female expressions as he has trying to desperately avoid looking at her, and even though he hasn't come anywhere close to figuring any of it out he knows he cannot do that, and never could. As unpleasant as he finds her, he couldn't.

Besides. She would be replaced, regardless. Then what would he have left, besides knowing.

"Every last one."*