Chapter Text
Eventually, as all young couples do at some point in their relationship, Barty and Regulus made up with angry make-up sex. By mutual agreement, they decided not to bring up the Dark Lord whenever they spent time together.
Barty continued undertaking combat missions for the Dark Lord under Bellatrix's leadership. He grew quite close to the others in Bellatrix’s squad, which consisted of the other two Lestranges and one Evan Rosier.
Evan was a fellow Slytherin student at Hogwarts, and a vicious duellist to boot. He had helped Barty out of a pinch a couple of times during their missions; Barty liked him enough to befriend him, despite the latter’s sadistic tendencies.
“You should break up with Black, mate,” Evan told Barty one day in the Great Hall, after they had compared notes for their NEWTs Potions class. “You know that there’s no happy fairytale ending down that road, why prolong your agony?”
Barty shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. In the end, he told Evan the truth, “I won’t be the first to initiate the break-up. You can enjoy my broken heart after Reg stomps all over it.”
Glaring, Evan whacked Barty’s arm forcefully, “Take that back! I may be a sadist but I don’t take pleasure from the pain of my friends.”
Laughing, Barty held up his hands in surrender. Evan slung an arm over him as he guided him towards his friends sitting at the Slytherin table. “Mulciber needs help with his Astronomy NEWTs and you’re the only one taking that Merlin-forsaken class. Don’t be a stranger, Barty.”
Helplessly, Barty allowed himself to be led to join the rest of the budding Death Eaters.
The months flew by and soon, graduation was upon them. Barty was confident that he had passed his NEWTs with flying colours. The only thing that marred his graduation was that both his parents were unable to make it; his mother due to sickness, and his thrice-cursed father, due to work.
Once upon a time, Barty might have been upset for days. Now, as he looked at Regulus, Evan and his fellow students who were also Death Eaters, Barty found that he didn’t much care. Even the Lestranges were in attendance, cheering him on. And when the after-party was over, Barty knew that his master would be waiting for him in his study, with a glass of wine and a word of congratulations. It was all Barty ever wanted. He had found his true family.
The clock was ticking on their relationship, but somehow that merely served to inflame Barty’s and Regulus’ lust towards each other. Every other day found them enjoying each other's body in either of their bedrooms. School was behind them and even Regulus’ strict parents did not begrudge their son a few months of relaxation.
When Kreacher appeared pale, weak and near death on the floor of Regulus’ bedroom, Barty and Regulus were enjoying a post-coital nap in Regulus’ bed.
The next moment, Regulus was up and fussing over his house-elf. Barty frowned and got dressed hastily. He had heard all about the Dark Lord borrowing Regulus’ house-elf for something or the other. It was a great honour, and he would have volunteered his own elf, of course, were it not for the fact that Winky had to obey his father’s orders over his own.
“What’s wrong? Is the Dark Lord alright?” Barty asked urgently as he came to crouch right next to Regulus, already casting diagnostic spells on the house-elf. If the house-elf was in such a state, in what condition was the Dark Lord?
Once Barty managed to bring Kreacher back to consciousness, the story came out in fits and starts. Apparently, the Dark Lord had brought Kreacher to an unknown cave full of Inferi, and ordered him to drink a certain potion out of a basin that contained a locket, before leaving him for dead.
Barty relaxed infinitesimally when he learned that the Dark Lord was perfectly fine; however, the next moment, he took one took at Regulus’ stormy face and released his wand from its holster with a slight flick of his wrist.
“He dares! He dares!” Regulus shrieked in a rising crescendo. “He dares to kill my house-elf for that measly Horcrux of his! The nerve of that tyrant! Filthy, vile murderer! I’ll make him regret crossing me!”
Watching with growing alarm as his boyfriend work himself into a frenzy of rage that bore a strong resemblance to that of his mother’s, Barty silently palmed his wand and cast a Stupefy at Regulus.
Still half-naked, Regulus slumped onto the floor in a dead faint. Grimly, Barty stunned the house-elf as well, before levitating Regulus onto the bed that still held the evidence of their love-making.
Barty was at a crossroad. Judging from the vitriol Regulus had spewed, his boyfriend was clearly no longer a supporter of the Dark Lord. The bitterness in his voice had revealed his true feelings.
And if Kreacher had returned from a place that he was not supposed to return from...that was a Boggart in the Dark Lord’s plans, which had to be rectified immediately.
As for Regulus...In normal circumstances, Barty would have said that Regulus was no threat. Indeed, never had a more sensitive and gentle soul been born to the House of Black. But the cursing gave Barty pause, as did the word Regulus had let slip.
Horcrux. As an avid reader, Barty had come across this word before, and knew that it had something to do with soul magic. If the Dark Lord had one and Regulus somehow knew about it...
Barty closed his eyes. Regulus was a potential security risk. Barty could never live with himself if he allowed a potential security risk to his lord go free.
His heart ached, like someone had clenched a fist around it and squeezed tightly. Soon, it would shatter into a million pieces.
In a perfect life, in a perfect world, Regulus Arcturus Black would live his life out as a pampered princeling, the Black Heir and later on, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. He would marry and produce his Heir and spare, and Barty would be the odd, quirky uncle, invited over for Yuletide and Samhain.
For a fleeting moment, Barty wondered. Letting Regulus go, going on the run with him. It would only end with him and Regulus dead of course, of that Barty had no doubt. But no. He shuddered at the thought of having to raise his wand against the Dark Lord or his fellow Death Eaters. Bella, Evan, the Lestrange brothers...they were all his friends as well. And he couldn’t imagine himself ever defying the Dark Lord.
He knew not what the others thought, but Barty had meant every single word of his sworn vow. His wand and his life, gifted to the Dark Lord, to protect and to serve. Regardless of whatever it might personally cost him. That and more the Dark Lord had earned from Barty, simply by providing Barty with a place to belong.
Barty opened his eyes with grim determination. He would bring Regulus and Kreacher to the Dark Lord, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. Then he would throw himself on the Dark Lord’s mercy and beg for Regulus’ life. As for himself...Barty stroked the Dark Mark on his arm softly. The day he had sworn his service, he had ceased to consider his life his own.
The Dark Lord's rage was a blinding, fearsome thunderstorm just seconds from eruption. His handsome features were twisted with a dark anger that made him fearful to behold. He tore through Kreacher’s mind with a brutal Legilimency, leaving the house-elf a mindless, drooling and shivering wreck on the floor.
“Lower your Occlumency shields, Bartemius, or I cannot guarantee your sanity,” the Dark Lord all but hissed at Barty.
Bracing himself for what was to come, Barty lowered his Occlumency shields obediently before meeting his master’s eyes. The Dark Lord ravaged his mind with ease, witnessing the confrontation that he had with Regulus just an hour ago, his own decision-making process and all the conversations that he ever had with Regulus about the Dark Lord.
When he was done, the Dark Lord chuckled darkly. Cringing, Barty lowered his head submissively. While he usually did not fear his lord’s anger, this time, Barty couldn’t help but feel that he had failed his lord. After all, he had been seriously considering treason as one of his options just now.
“I will deal with you later, Bartemius. For now, let’s hear directly from our little traitor’s mouth, shall we? ” The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Regulus’ prone form.
With a jolt, Regulus sat up straight on the floor and opened his mouth. With another wave of his wand, the Dark Lord retrieved a flask of clear liquid from his desk. Barty knew that it was Veritaserum.
Three drops of pearly, transparent liquid floated through the air into Regulus’ mouth. The next moment, Regulus was awake, and staring at the ceiling with wide, unseeing eyes.
“What do you know about the Dark Lord’s Horcrux?” The Dark Lord questioned.
Regulus replied in a monotone, “The Dark Lord had mentioned his immortality in passing. There are only a few methods of achieving immortality. The Black family library holds ancient books of the darkest arts known to wizarding-kind. It took months of research but I finally narrowed down the Dark Lord’s method of immortality to the Horcrux method. Kreacher’s experience supported my theory.”
Still on his knees, Barty startled. Soul magic...immortality...in a flash, Barty put together the pieces of information he had on hand. A piece of the Dark Lord’s soul was in the locket Kreacher had mentioned...it was a Horcrux. And Regulus...Barty stared at his boyfriend in horror as Regulus’ previous diatribe floated to the fore of his mind. Regulus clearly intended to harm the Dark Lord using this knowledge.
“What do you intend to do with this information?” It appeared that the same thought had occurred to the Dark Lord.
Regulus replied dispassionately, “I intend to steal the locket from the cave and have Kreacher destroy the locket. It might mean my death but I’ll get my revenge on the Dark Lord, for the way he treated me and Kreacher.”
Staring at his boyfriend in horror, Barty felt a wave of emotions flood him. The ungrateful swine! That was high treason that Regulus intended to commit. Even worse than defying their lord, he had actually intended to harm their liege! Even after the Dark Lord had kept his promise and kept Regulus out of combat missions for so long.
Straight from Regulus’ mouth, no way to deny it. At that moment, Barty could Crucio his boyfriend where he sat.
Barty could have understood regrets at taking the Dark Mark, at wanting out of a war that Regulus had never believed in. He had suspected, but not truly believed, that Regulus would be driven to drastic measures. But this? Barty felt that Regulus was a stranger, clearly he had not known his boyfriend at all.
Regulus had to die, Barty realised distantly. The Dark Lord would not allow anything less, not for a threat to his immortality. Indeed, the Dark Lord was now asking further questions, trying to determine whether Regulus had told anyone else about his findings.
As for himself, for learning the Dark Lord’s secrets of immortality, Barty’s life too was forfeit.
Something seemed to click in place, and all of a sudden, the tension drained from Barty. He now knew his fate and he was alright with it.
At the end of the day, it was Barty’s fault. If Barty had not begged his lord to give Regulus other missions within the latter’s capability, it was inconceivable that the Dark Lord would have approached Regulus to borrow his house-elf.
Silence fell. The Dark Lord had finished questioning Regulus at last. With a quick wave of his wand and a blinding green light, Kreacher died.
Then, the Dark Lord turned to face Barty. Barty met his lord’s eyes unflinchingly. He knew what he would have to do.
“My lord, I have failed you. It was on my recommendation that you gave Regulus this mission and it resulted in this...farce,” Barty said softly, his voice thick with guilt. “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I beg you to grant me this last boon. Allow me to kill Regulus personally, and after that...I will submit myself to your mercy.”
Barty knew that he was setting himself up as the perfect scapegoat. His lord might throw him to the Ministry; all Barty would have to look forward to would be a summary trial, for killing the Black Heir, and execution via Dementor. He smiled grimly. At least it would allow him to give one last Fuck you! to his father.
But no, the Dark Lord could not allow Barty to fall into enemy hands, not now that he knew his lord’s deepest secret. More likely than not, Barty would be tortured, then summarily executed.
“Very well. I will grant your request, because you have heretofore served me well, Bartemius,” the Dark Lord told Barty coolly, as he settled back into his chair. “A final little mercy for the Black heir. Will he be grateful to you, I wonder?”
Gratefully, Barty smiled bent forward to place two soft kisses to the back of his lord’s feet. He allowed himself this small impudence, since this would be the last time he would be thanking his master.
Then, with determination, Barty rose and turned his eyes to Regulus. The Veritaserum had worn off, and Regulus now hung, as if suspended, from midair. The Dark Lord must have silenced him, for Regulus did not say anything even as his sharp eyes bore into Barty’s.
With a wave of his wand, Barty broke the silencing spell. “Any last words?” His voice broke slightly at the end of the question, belying his sorrow. To think that the boy he had once been so proud to have befriended was now fated to die under his wand...
“Only that I regret ever meeting you, you fucking bastard,” Regulus spat out. “Do you think he’ll let you live if you do this? You’re a pathetic prick, selling out your boyfriend for your own life. Would you spread your legs too if the Dark-fucking-Lord wants it?”
Barty silenced Regulus once more with a sweep of his wand. “He is still our lord and you would do well to remember that!” Barty hissed at his boyfriend. The disrespect towards the Dark Lord galled him, although Regulus had called Barty worse names.
No matter. Regulus would be dead soon, and so would Barty. All the anger drained out of Barty at that thought, and only a bone-deep tiredness remained. There was no need to explain anything to Regulus; the time for explanations was past. Still, Barty felt the need to get one last sentence in. “You should not have betrayed our lord, Reg. Farewell. I’ll see you soon in the afterlife.” Barty told his friend sadly. He would save his apologies for later. “Avada Kedavra.”
A blinding green flash later, Regulus Black was no more. Slowly, a single tear trickled out from Barty’s eye as he gazed upon the slumped over form of his boyfriend. A huge, hollow ache reverberated in the space where his heart was, but Barty had no time to dwell on that.
Mechanically, Barty crossed the room to where the Dark Lord still sat silently. Holding out his wand gingerly, Barty kneeled and placed his wand at the Dark Lord’s feet. “It is done, my lord. Thank you for your forbearance.”
Then, with a small jerk of his chin, Barty met the Dark Lord’s crimson eyes steadily and told him, “I’m ready, my lord. It has been an honour to serve you.”
The Dark Lord held Barty’s gaze for a long moment as he twirled his wand in his hand. Then, he snorted. “Do I look like a fool, Bartemius? I’m not about to kill my most loyal servant over a secret that I trust he can keep.”
Hope, fragile and tiny, fluttered its way into the gaping hole in Barty’s chest. There it rested, nestled safely. Barty’s answering smile was tremulous. “Yes, my lord.”