FIC POST: Nothing's Different
Jan. 9th, 2006 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momebieTitle: Nothing’s Different
Rating: PG for talk of death.
Word count: 825
Warnings: Beware of teh angst!
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I could afford Grad School.
Summary: Regulus is faced with mortality. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
20_claims prompt #87, Life. One down, 19 to go. :p
Over the summer hols when they were bored, Regulus and Narcissa used to hold lizards under the water in the fountain in her family’s garden, just to see how long it would take before they stopped thrashing. One small green one stopped twitching its tail at a record forty five minutes. It was this lizard that Regulus remembered as he looked into Narcissa’s eyes over the body of their latest victim. The man’s hand had reached for Regulus in a plea for mercy and was now lying limply at his toe. Regulus backed away, feeling bile rise in his throat.
Narcissa’s eyes were sparkling above the smirk in her lips, and Regulus thought that maybe she didn’t understand what was going on. Just a silly girl playing another silly game. She had only joined the Death Eaters because Lucius was a member. She had wanted to be as close to him as she could. And it had worked. There was another life growing inside of her even as they took the lives of others.
“So, what’s next?” She smiled brightly, welcoming the challenge of another Order of the Phoenix member or a muggle that happened to cross the wrong alley in the night.
Regulus couldn’t answer. He shrugged, and then tripped over his feet as he backed into a corner and began to throw up violently. His stomach heaved and a tear rolled down his cheek. It wasn’t for the reptiles, and it wasn’t for the man, a common printer who had hid an Order member. He didn’t know what it was for. Narcissa laughed, high and loud, and apparated back to Grimmauld Place for dinner. Nothing was different.
Regulus wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe and pulled the mask off the top of his head where it had been resting. The silk that held it to his head was cold and smooth, a reminder of the way everything was now. His family forced him to remain a Death Eater, the Death Eaters held him in a social hierarchy. He was assured it was for the best.
He leaned against the wall behind him, carefully avoiding the desk corners and bits of paper that we hanging over them. It seemed somehow disrespectful to muss the man’s things, even though he wouldn’t need them anymore. Life would go on without this man. Regulus looked around him, imagining the pictures on other walls and the furniture broken and in the street as it would be in less than a week.
Trembling, he slid down the wall and dropped his head into his hands. There had to be something else. Life didn’t boil down to this, did it? Struggles and questions left unfought and unanswered. White masks against dark cloaks with the power over life and death. But it did boil down to this. In Voldemort’s imaginary kingdom, where the muggles burned and the loyal were rewarded with yet new people to kill, this was exactly what life was.
Regulus stayed with the man until there was a commotion at the door. Looking at him had reminded Regulus of things that he hadn’t remembered he knew how to feel. Reminded him of loss, and remorse, and regret. And familial love, the only source of which he had ever really known was now a traitor, and to be killed if seen. Not different, just another life that would come to an end.
As the lock was sprung Regulus assured himself the man wouldn’t be left alone. He stood and apparated back to Grimmauld Place, just as a shadow darkened the threshold. He tumbled over a chair in the study as he appeared, and his mother looked up from her reading.
“Oh good then, hurry up. Dinner’s getting cold. Narcissa already had some. Need to keep that baby strong you know. What were you doing anyway?” His mother tried to catch his eyes with hers, looking for signs of weakness in her only son. “Where’s your mask? You weren’t seen.” The last bit was an order, not a question.
“Not by anyone of consequence,” he sighed. “I’m going to wash up, if you don’t mind. I’m not feeling well.”
“Never will if you don’t stop mooning over them. They’re not worthy dear.” She tutted, her tongue in her cheek, and left Regulus standing in the middle of the room as she moved to the kitchen to oversee the house elf that was setting the table.
Life didn’t stop and nothing was different. Unanswered questions and unfought wars just came with the territory. Regulus left the room, leaving memories of men and lizards and any hope he had had for the future behind him.
And for you non fandom folks: 100 Most Annoying Things of 2005
Rating: PG for talk of death.
Word count: 825
Warnings: Beware of teh angst!
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I could afford Grad School.
Summary: Regulus is faced with mortality. For
20_claims prompt #87, Life. One down, 19 to go. :pOver the summer hols when they were bored, Regulus and Narcissa used to hold lizards under the water in the fountain in her family’s garden, just to see how long it would take before they stopped thrashing. One small green one stopped twitching its tail at a record forty five minutes. It was this lizard that Regulus remembered as he looked into Narcissa’s eyes over the body of their latest victim. The man’s hand had reached for Regulus in a plea for mercy and was now lying limply at his toe. Regulus backed away, feeling bile rise in his throat.
Narcissa’s eyes were sparkling above the smirk in her lips, and Regulus thought that maybe she didn’t understand what was going on. Just a silly girl playing another silly game. She had only joined the Death Eaters because Lucius was a member. She had wanted to be as close to him as she could. And it had worked. There was another life growing inside of her even as they took the lives of others.
“So, what’s next?” She smiled brightly, welcoming the challenge of another Order of the Phoenix member or a muggle that happened to cross the wrong alley in the night.
Regulus couldn’t answer. He shrugged, and then tripped over his feet as he backed into a corner and began to throw up violently. His stomach heaved and a tear rolled down his cheek. It wasn’t for the reptiles, and it wasn’t for the man, a common printer who had hid an Order member. He didn’t know what it was for. Narcissa laughed, high and loud, and apparated back to Grimmauld Place for dinner. Nothing was different.
Regulus wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe and pulled the mask off the top of his head where it had been resting. The silk that held it to his head was cold and smooth, a reminder of the way everything was now. His family forced him to remain a Death Eater, the Death Eaters held him in a social hierarchy. He was assured it was for the best.
He leaned against the wall behind him, carefully avoiding the desk corners and bits of paper that we hanging over them. It seemed somehow disrespectful to muss the man’s things, even though he wouldn’t need them anymore. Life would go on without this man. Regulus looked around him, imagining the pictures on other walls and the furniture broken and in the street as it would be in less than a week.
Trembling, he slid down the wall and dropped his head into his hands. There had to be something else. Life didn’t boil down to this, did it? Struggles and questions left unfought and unanswered. White masks against dark cloaks with the power over life and death. But it did boil down to this. In Voldemort’s imaginary kingdom, where the muggles burned and the loyal were rewarded with yet new people to kill, this was exactly what life was.
Regulus stayed with the man until there was a commotion at the door. Looking at him had reminded Regulus of things that he hadn’t remembered he knew how to feel. Reminded him of loss, and remorse, and regret. And familial love, the only source of which he had ever really known was now a traitor, and to be killed if seen. Not different, just another life that would come to an end.
As the lock was sprung Regulus assured himself the man wouldn’t be left alone. He stood and apparated back to Grimmauld Place, just as a shadow darkened the threshold. He tumbled over a chair in the study as he appeared, and his mother looked up from her reading.
“Oh good then, hurry up. Dinner’s getting cold. Narcissa already had some. Need to keep that baby strong you know. What were you doing anyway?” His mother tried to catch his eyes with hers, looking for signs of weakness in her only son. “Where’s your mask? You weren’t seen.” The last bit was an order, not a question.
“Not by anyone of consequence,” he sighed. “I’m going to wash up, if you don’t mind. I’m not feeling well.”
“Never will if you don’t stop mooning over them. They’re not worthy dear.” She tutted, her tongue in her cheek, and left Regulus standing in the middle of the room as she moved to the kitchen to oversee the house elf that was setting the table.
Life didn’t stop and nothing was different. Unanswered questions and unfought wars just came with the territory. Regulus left the room, leaving memories of men and lizards and any hope he had had for the future behind him.
And for you non fandom folks: 100 Most Annoying Things of 2005
