Written as a drabble challenge for hrymfaxe on Livejournal using the prompts Regulus and endmost


The puddles beneath his feet splashed upwards and sank into his shoes making his socks match the feelings rising up within his chest. The gauntlets had been thrown down and the line had finally been crossed. He needed the one release he knew he couldn't possibly get. He had to get out.

The problem was that no one ever got out, and he knew it. Walking away wasn't an option, not once they've been branded. Marked, he thought darkly. The assignment doled out was the breaking point. Everything up until now could be explained away as to being for the greater good, purity of the blood and cleansing of the filth filling their streets.

This was against everything they were supposed to be fighting for.

He and Carrow had been given their first major assignment, a sign that their work thus far had been noticed and satisfactory at the very least. This was supposed to be their chance to step up and gain real recognition; to prove to the others that they weren't just fresh faces straight out of school anymore. They were to be equals now.

But he couldn't do it. Not to his own flesh and blood.

Not ready to head home just yet and needing to clear his mind and sort out his meddled thoughts, he nipped into the park around the corner and automatically made his way to the swings and lowered himself down onto the first of the two. He and his brother had come here often as children, brought here by Kreacher for half an hour if they had behaved appropriately during their daily lessons. A form of escape from their prison. These times were the last time he had seen his brother happy living in their home; the endmost of the situation. Here Regulus could remember a time before right and wrong had become an unsolvable debate. Here he could remember the love between brothers.

And now he had been order to capture said brother and the other that he had chosen as his own.

How on earth was he ever going to hand over Sirius Black and James Potter to the Death Eaters?

It had started out being so clear to him; to return the control to the real wizards. The pure bloods were the rightful leaders in the wizarding world and over the years it had become polluted. Mudbloods and halfbloods were overflowing the streets, and the world Regulus had been raised to believe was out there was rapidly disappearing. He had been looking for answers, and the Dark Lord was providing him with answers. Except he couldn't see how this one really made some sort of sense.

Sirius and James were purebloods. Everything they were fighting to maintain, and he was just supposed to help end those lines?

This wasn't what he had signed up for. Death wasn't the answer. It never was.

Regulus pushed his feet around in the dirt beneath his swing creating swirls in the sand. He didn't agree with his brother's decisions nor his choices in friends, but he didn't see any reason for such a course of action. He had seen what happened to those that others had brought back and he didn't want that to happen to his brother. No one deserved such torture.

He slowly stood up and breathed in his surroundings. It was time for him to head home. Night was falling and the darkness was growing around him, both inside and out.

He needed a way to protect his brother and everyone else like him; those fighting for the right to be themselves.

He needed to talk to Kreacher.