Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4542
Characters: Severus Snape, Regulus Black, Gilderoy Lockhart, Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Kreacher, Albus Dumbledore

Regulus Black. Regs. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was nothing to me. Less than. Only a means to some small amount of private revenge. I could take whatever Potter and Black dished out, because I knew that that night, I would make Black's little brother my fuck toy again. The resemblance was close enough to add an extra measure of satisfaction when I fucked him until he bled and cried out, begging me to stop, or when I made him gag and choke on my cock until tears streamed down his face.

At least, that's how it was at first. He was fifteen the first time, and I was still outraged about Black sending me to the Shrieking Shack and certain death, and getting away with only two weeks' detention. It took me nearly a month to corner Regs. He must have seen something in my eyes, and he took to avoiding me, always making sure there were witnesses whenever I was around. But I got him in the end. Fucked him near senseless, too, and in the middle of the bloody staff room, if you can believe that! Damn, it felt good.

He cried, of course. I enjoyed that, too. But after, when I noticed that beautiful, perfect little cock standing up all for me, I nearly went off my head, and told him I'd suck him off if he wanted. He didn't want me to. He looked at me like I was mad or something. I asked him if he'd liked what I'd done, and he said no. I told him he'd learn to.

"Have you done it before?" he asked me.

"Loads of times," I told him.

"Who?" he asked.

"Malfoy. Lockhart. Rosier."

It was a lie. Malfoy had just made me watch while he wanked and talked about what it was like fucking that whore, Narcissa. Lockhart sucked me off once so I wouldn't tell the whole school about him and Professor Slughorn. Nothing ever happened with Rosier. I didn't tell him about my father. And I certainly didn't mention Lily Evans.

Why did things change? It sure as hell wasn't because of me. It was him. He cared. He fucking cared. I'll never understand it.

I spent the last month and a half of sixth year marking that perfect, white skin in places I knew no one else would ever see. I even experimented with using the Imperius Curse on him, but it made him too compliant for my liking.

Then I went home for the summer holidays and forgot about him. Well, mostly. Some nights, after Father -- I'll just say it would have felt good to exorcise some of that feeling of powerlessness on someone else.

Well, what could I do? Sure, I was seventeen, but Mum still wouldn't let me use magic in the house, probably for fear of what I'd do to the old man. She even took my wand and hid it. How was I meant to defend myself? Fucking Muggle bastard knew it, of course. Used to taunt me with it. I showed him, in the end. Shriveled his cock down to almost nothing with a potion I made up. Mum screamed at me to undo it, of course -- demanded to know what I'd added to his coffee -- but I just laughed.

Anyway, term started again. Seventh year. I traded the fucking bastard I had to deal with at home for the bastards I had to deal with at school. Jesus fucking Christ! It just never ended.

The first day back, I could feel Regs' eyes following me everywhere I went. I thought it was fear at first -- thought he must be waiting and wondering when I was going to get him alone and unload a whole summer's worth of pent-up frustration into his arse.

I didn't speak to him at all that day. Not on the train. Not at the feast. Not that evening in the common room. But that night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt someone sit down on the edge of my bed. Fuck! I thought for a second it was my father. My eyes flew open and I was backed up against the headboard in a heartbeat.

When I saw it was Regs, I had him by the throat before he could blink. "What the fucking hell are you doing here?" I hissed, pressing him against the mattress. I let him breathe just enough to answer.

"I missed you, Sev," he gasped.

I was so shocked that I let go of him. "What?" I demanded incredulously.

"I missed you," he repeated plaintively, massaging his throat. "I tried to write to you, but I didn't know what to say."

"Why?"

"I was lonely," he shrugged. "Can I -- can I sleep here tonight? With you?"

For a minute I just stared at him, then I shrugged. "I guess so."

I didn't sleep that night at all. I just lay there, staring into the dark, listening to his breathing, feeling the warmth of him beside me.

He started spending a lot of nights in my bed, sneaking out of his own room after everyone else had gone to sleep. Not every night, but more often than not. I still used him, of course. Whenever Black and Potter made me the butt of another one of their stupid pranks, but other times, too. I started to enjoy eliciting different cries from him; sounds of pleasure and passion as well as pain. He wasn't Lily Evans by a long shot, but he wasn't nothing, either.

One day, I came up to my dorm room to find fucking Girlyboy Lockhart had him cornered.

"Why won't you do for me like you do for Severus?" he was saying. "C'mon, Regs. It'll be fun. I'm much better-looking than he is, and I promise I won't hurt you. He'll never even know."

But Regs had seen me standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide with terror at the look on my face. With a roar, I launched myself at Lockhart. I messed up his good looks pretty badly, and kicked him hard enough where it counts to make him lose interest in the idea of fucking anyone for a month.

I just barely restrained myself from breaking Regs' jaw as well. "Did you let him touch you?!" I shouted, twisting my hands in his hair and forcing him to look at me. "Did you let him put his fucking hands on you?!"

"No, Sev!" he whimpered. "If course not! I'd never --"

"Good!" I gave him a shake. "You're mine. Don't you ever fucking forget that!"

That was the day he told me that he loved me. Lockhart was still moaning on the floor while I proved my claim on Regulus Black's body with my hands and my teeth and my cock, riding him longer and harder than I ever had before.

"Say it," I demanded, my breath coming in harsh gasps. "Tell me who owns you. Your hands, your mouth, your arse, your cock. All of you. Tell me!"

"You do, Sev," he whimpered. "I belong to you. All -- all of me. Always."

"Don't you fucking forget it," I said, reaching around to pump his cock, hard. "Don't you ever."

Mine, I thought as his cries spiraled upwards, cut equally between ecstasy and pain. Mine mine mine dammit mine. So fucking good!

My shout of triumph as I came mingled with his breathy moan as his own release spilled hot over my hand.

I pulled out of him and collapsed onto the bed.

Then he turned to me. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around me and pressed his forehead against my shoulder.

"Yours, Sev," he whispered. "Yours always." He looked up then, directly into my eyes and utterly without fear. "I love you, Sev," he said.

I didn't answer. To this day, I still don't know if I loved him or not. Whatever it was that I felt for him always seemed soiled and tarnished -- not the bright, burning gold of what I had with Lily. But I did know that he was the only one who gave a damn about me, and that meant a hell of a lot to me, though I would never admit it to him.

I think I joined the Death Eaters half to impress the hell out of him. And he was impressed. God, the look in his eyes when he first saw my Mark made it almost worth every moment of sucking up to the Dark Lord.

The Death Eaters -- well, it wasn't as great as I expected. Everything was about the glory of the Dark Lord and the purity of blood. I managed to get pretty high up pretty fast, mostly because of my skill at brewing potions, and because I could perform the Imperius Curse like nobody's business, but even then, I was nothing. Just an especially useful stepping stone on the Dark Lord's path to immortality and a perfect pure-blood world. The other Death Eaters didn't even like me, half-blood that I am.

But once you're in, you're in for life. Forget mentioning the idea of leaving. Don't even think it. Regs was so excited about the prospect of joining up. I wanted to tell him -- to say something to discourage him -- but I couldn't think how.

So he joined. The light and wonder shone from his eyes, and he barely flinched when the Dark Lord burned the Mark into his arm.

I took Regs away from the rest of them when the initiation was over, back to the Hogshead. There's usually an all-night party after, but I didn't like the way Bellatrix Lestrange was looking at him. She liked to fuck all the new blood, just to say she had. She never even tried with me, though, and I hated her for it. Maybe I wouldn't have gone for it even if she had. I don't know.

We stayed the night at the inn. I could tell the excitement was still with him, and I didn't know what to tell him, so I told him I was proud of him. It's all he ever really wanted to hear, anyway. I knew he would be miserable before long, so I thought the least I could do was give him one good night before the shine wore off. I think that may have been the only night I was ever actually gentle with him.

That was about the time I left Hogwarts, and I hardly got to see him anymore, except during school holidays and on his Hogsmeade weekends. It sucked like I couldn't believe. I missed him. He mattered to me. I worried about him. The words felt like weakness even in my mind. Who knew I could be so thick again, after the fiasco with Lily?

When the shine of the Death Eaters wore off for him, it wore off fast -- faster than even I could have imagined. Still, he managed to hide it for almost a year -- from everyone but me, that is, hard as he tried at first. I was terrified that the rest would see as clearly as I did how unhappy he was. If they saw -- if the Dark Lord knew how badly Regs wanted out -- he was as good as dead, and me with him, if there was any question at all about where my loyalties lay. They knew about us -- how could the Dark Lord not? -- and the others did not bother trying to hide their sneers.

Regs showed up on my doorstep one day near the end, tears staining his cheeks, wanting to talk about Muggle killings, as if it were even possible to discuss such things! I panicked and screamed at him. Told him to piss off.

I knew then that it was only a matter of time. For the next month, I tried to distance myself from him. I barely saw him. Partly, the distance was to protect myself, and partly, it was because I was afraid -- afraid of being the one to discover his body. That would have been bad enough. I couldn't have guessed in my darkest nightmares how much worse it was going to be. The Dark Lord is a harsh man when it comes to testing loyalties.

I received the summons at the end of September. I dared not ignore it, or even delay it. I knelt before the Dark Lord, my head bowed. Bellatrix was there, standing at his right hand, as usual.

"I am concerned," he said, "that perhaps you have grown soft in my service. Potions are all very well, and your Imperius Curse is impressive, but I don't think you've been doing enough field work. I have an assignment for you."

"Speak and I shall obey, my Master," I said, eyes still lowered, mind carefully blank.

"I expected no less of you, Severus. I need someone to deal with the matter of Regulus Black."

"'Deal with', my Lord?" I asked humbly, as though the sinking sensation in my stomach had not already made his meaning perfectly clear.

"Do not play games with me, Severus," the Dark Lord said sharply.

"That filthy queer is a fucking traitor!" Bellatrix hissed. "You'll do as our Master tells you and you'll thank him for his mercy, or you'll be next."

"Go," commanded the Dark Lord. "Do not return to me until your mission is complete. But be warned: If you do not return to me in three days' time, I will know the reason why."

I rose and bowed, feeling as cold and alone as I had ever felt.

Seventeen-year-old Regulus Black blew gently on the still-wet ink before closing the diary and sliding it carefully into the pocket of his rucksack. Shouldering the bag, he turned toward the door. He felt lightheaded and giddy from the combination of fear and tentative excitement at the realisation that he was actually doing it. He was leaving. He would disappear into the night, find sanctuary with Sirius and his friends, and be free of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters forever.

The feeling lasted as long as it took him to cross the sitting room, turn down the corridor, and place his hand on the front doorknob of Twelve Grimmauld Place. It would not turn. He jiggled it experimentally, but without result. Trying to still the rising panic in his breast, he went to the back door, but he had no better luck there, nor at the servants' entrance. Heart racing, he tried the windows. Nothing. They would neither open nor break.

"Reducto!" he tried, already knowing it was no good. "Mother!" his voice sounded unnaturally high. "Mother, something's wrong with the house!"

His mother had already gone to bed, and there was no answer. He went up the stairs to her room and shook her, trying to wake her. She slept on. No amount of shouting or shaking elicited more than a snore from her. In desperation, he drew his wand again. "Enervate!" But nothing happened.

A cloud of doom seemed to descend upon him. They're coming for me. Now. Today.

He raced through the house, pounding at the doors and windows ineffectually, screaming himself hoarse. "Sev! Sev! Sev! Sirius! Arse, arse, arse, fucking arse!"

"Is Master Regulus wanting something?" Kreacher, the Black's house-elf had appeared in the room with a crack!

Hands bruised and bleeding from pounding against the charm that imprisoned him, voice almost gone, Regulus sank down against a wall. "I'm fucked," he said resignedly to the elf. Even crying about it seemed pointless.

Kreacher looked confused. "If Master Regulus means that he has --"

"No, Kreacher," Regulus interrupted with a hopeless laugh. "Nothing like that. I'm just stuck, and I can't see a way out."

"Kreacher can get out," the ugly elf said, patting his master on the knee. "Do you wish him to fetch help?"

Regulus regarded Kreacher thoughtfully, and found that a tiny spark of hope remained within him.

"Sirius," he said at last. "Find Sirius. Make him come here. Any way you can."

Kreacher looked scandalised. "Master Regulus wishes the filthy blood-traitor to enter the home of his ancestors? The Mistress will never allow it."

"She hasn't got a choice, Kreacher." Regulus summoned his most commanding voice. "I'm the man of the house now that Father is dead, and I want Sirius here. Now."

"As Master Regulus wishes," Kreacher said doubtfully, bowing low. With another crack! he was gone.

Regulus let his head fall back against the wall. He hadn't much hope that Kreacher would find Sirius in time, let alone convince him to come to the house, but there was little else for him to do but wait.

A bottle of well-aged firewhiskey high on a shelf caught his eye. It had been his father's, but it was still nearly three-quarters full. Numbly, he summoned it to where he sat on the floor. Pulling out the cork with a satisfying, wet pop, he took a swig. It burned his throat and made his eyes water. He took another.

Setting down the bottle carefully near his elbow, he took out his diary again, opened it to the first page, and began to read. This is my life, he thought, and now it's done. I'm done. He spent the remainder of the night reading through the diary and wandering aimlessly through the house, swigging firewhiskey.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, the bottle down to its last inch of amber liquid, the book open to the previous week's entries, when he heard the front door open quietly. Regulus carefully closed the diary, caressing the worn leather cover lovingly with one hand. Kreacher had not returned in time. He had known before the elf left that any help he might offer would likely be too little too late.

"So it's you, Sev," he said, voice dull with resignation. "He sent you to take care of me. Why am I not surprised?"

"Traitor," Severus said tonelessly.

Regulus laughed bitterly. "Yes, I am a traitor, but the only one I've betrayed is myself. I sold my soul to the Dark Lord because I thought it would make my family proud -- make you proud. But we're not heroes, Sev. We'll get no love for the things we've done. Do you think the Dark Lord cares whether we live or die?"

He rose shakily from his seat and turned to face the man who had been his lover -- who had come to him this one last time, as his assassin. Severus shot out a hand to grab his arm.

"Don't worry," he laughed again. "I'm not going anywhere. Can't." He swayed, raising great, gray eyes filled with sorrow to meet Severus's black ones.

"I never betrayed you, Sev." He reached out to touch the other man's face, but Severus jerked away. "Never you. I loved you." A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I thought maybe you loved me. Are you going to kill me, Sev?"

Severus only looked away, jaw clenched.

Regulus sighed. "Will you grant me a last request at least? For the sake of -- everything?"

Slowly, Severus nodded. When he met Regulus's gaze again, his eyes were unusually bright.

"Make it quick. And not with your wand. Not a curse. I want that." He touched the small, silver dagger Severus wore at his belt. The pommel was a skull set with green stones for its eyes. "If I have to die, I want it to be by your hands. I want to feel your touch on me one last time."

Severus lowered his eyes. "Regs --"

"Don't," Regulus interrupted him. "If it's not you, it'll be someone else. And if you don't do it, they'll come for you, too. No, I'd rather it was you. Not that it matters."

"How can you say that, Regs?" Severus's voice was harsh, his throat tight.

Regulus smiled regretfully, his eyes unfocused. "I've taken a slow-acting poison. Something of your own invention, I think. I'll be dead anyway within an hour." He stumbled.

"Regs!" Severus gripped the boy's arms, despair choking his voice. "Tell me what you took, Regs! I -- I'll brew an antidote!"

"And then what, Sev?" Regulus asked sadly. "All that happens then is that someone else comes, and they kill us both. I want you to live, Sev. You have to make it at least look like you did it. And I want you to have this."

With clumsy fingers, he lifted the diary from the table and fumbled it into Severus's grasp.

"This is your diary." The other man's voice was hollow.

"I won't be needing it anymore," Regulus said, a last smile flickering over his lips. "I'm so tired, Sev. Can we lie down for a minute?"

Not knowing what else to do, Severus knelt on the floor, cradling the dying boy in his arms.

"Sev? Where are you?"

"I'm here, Regs."

"Good." He coughed. Severus could hear his lungs labouring. "Sev, make sure Sirius knows -- knows I tried to leave. You don't have to tell him about --" he flapped hand weakly, the gesture encompassing their relationship, his death, and Severus's own complicity in it.

"He'll know," Severus promised.

"Cold in here, Sev." The boy's lips were colourless. His eyelids fluttered closed.

Severus held him close, feeling each faltering heartbeat at though it were his own.

"Are you going to do it or not?" Bellatrix Lestrange's voice was like ice. Severus had not even heard her Apparate.

"My Lord's faithful watchdog," he said bitterly.

"I'd hate to take back a bad report," she purred, reaching out to caress his cheek. He flinched away, clutching the dying boy tightly to his breast.

"You have no heart at all, woman," he told her. "You know what this boy is to me. And he's your own blood."

"He's a traitor," she snapped. "Nothing more. And if you defend him, you're no better. My Lord will not tolerate those whose loyalties may be uncertain."

"I will not have my loyalty questioned," Severus hissed, eyes blazing with cold fury. With a ringing sound the silver blade left its sheath, and in one swift motion, it was socketed at the base of Regulus's throat.

Bellatrix laughed a high, girlish laugh. "I'll be sure to tell my Lord you said so." He could have sworn her laugh still hung in the air after she Disapparated.

"Regs," Severus moaned despairingly, feeling as if he had just plunged a dagger into his own heart. He felt the last fluttering beats of the boy's heart as his blood ran hot over Severus's hands. At last, it stilled.

"Safe journey, Regs," he whispered.

He had scrawled a hasty note to Dumbledore and Apparated to Hogsmeade with it before he could even let himself think. Better not to think. Safer. He barely took the time to wipe the blood from his hands before sending the note by short-range owl up to the castle.

Dumbledore's reply was swift and brief, though Severus felt he had aged ten years in the intervening minutes. All it said was, My office.

Within ten minutes, he was at the door. He did not even bother knocking, but burst in, still trying to catch his breath. Dumbledore looked slightly startled, but rose graciously enough his desk to greet his sudden guest.

"Severus --"

But Severus had no interest left in observing formalities. He jerked back his blood-soaked sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark on his forearm. "Do you know what this is?" he demanded.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth tightened, but he merely nodded.

"I want out. Now. I need -- I need help." The word nearly choked him with bitterness.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Dumbledore asked mildly, returning to his seat and indicating that Severus might sit as well.

Severus hesitated a moment before sitting down. "Regulus Black is dead," he said abruptly. "By my hand." He looked the Headmaster of Hogwarts straight in the eyes, defiant, daring him to say something.

"Why have I become your confessor?" The look Dumbledore returned him was both sad and wary.

"He's -- he was --" Severus amended, "-- one of the only two people in the world who mattered to me. The only ones who ever loved me."

He didn't want to be telling Dumbledore any of this, but he knew that Dumbledore was possibly the only man in the entire world who could help him, and that in order to do so, he would have to know everything.

His voice cracked as he continued, "The Dark -- Voldemort -- destroyed him. Voldemort cares nothing for love."

Dumbledore nodded. "He will not tolerate weakness."

Severus looked up sharply.

"He sees love is a human frailty," the old man said gently. "It makes us vulnerable. But what he will never understand is that love also makes us strong. It took great strength, I think, for you to come to me today."

"They sent me to -- he was dying when I got there. He'd poisoned himself. God help me, I put my blade through his throat." Severus covered his face with his hands and shook helplessly for a moment.

At last, he looked up, dark eyes miserable. "He was just a boy. He got in over his head. But to Voldemort, he was a traitor. Voldemort wouldn't mourn me if I die, nor avenge me if I'm killed in his service, which I almost certainly will be sooner or later."

"I don't doubt you are right, Severus," the Headmaster replied.

"Help me," Severus said again through gritted teeth. He laid the blood-smeared leatherbound book on the desk between them. "This will corroborate my story. A talisman of my good faith, if you will. I cannot give service to the man who ordered Regulus Black's death -- who would as callously destroy Lily Evans. Tell me what I must do to prove myself, and I will do it."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair looking over his half-moon spectacles at Severus, his fingers resting lightly on the cover of the diary.

"My Lord," Severus Snape said with a formal bow, "I have completed my mission, as I am sure the Lady Bellatrix will have informed you."

"I expected no less of you, Severus." Lord Voldemort nodded his approval.

"I wish to present you with a further token of my loyalty, my Lord, if you will permit me," he continued, still bowing low.

"You may do so." The tall, silver-haired man flicked his elegant fingers, permitting him to continue.

"I bring good news, my Lord. I have succeeded in infiltrating the castle of Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore has agreed to hire me as the school's Potions master, beginning next year. From this position, I hope to gain Dumbledore's confidence, and perhaps, through him, come into contact with his friend, Nicholas Flamel. My Lord, it is my hope to either procure or to make for you the legendary Philosopher's Stone, by means of which you might at last attain your desired goal of eternal life." Severus straightened and took a step back, waiting, mind carefully blank.

A slow smile spread across Voldemort's face. "You have done very well, Severus. If you should succeed in this, your service will not go unrewarded."

(image courtesy of shishio)

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