Another sniffle, Kreacher using the dishtowel in his hands to dry his eyes. "I will be making it all the time if you will be liking it."
Regulus feels his throat grow tight. He isn't sure if it's real, the care that Kreacher shows him, or if he can't help it. Part of his obligation to their family. Isn't sure he wants to know.
"Thank you," he manages eventually, before putting him and Kreacher both out of their misery and turning back to his breakfast—saving them from anymore emotional outbursts.
It's nice, being able to taste his food, even if he's still feeling a little unsteady—his stomach and head prone to aching, his skin hotter than is comfortable. He isn't worried. He knows these potions well. Knows what withdrawal looks like. He's just hoping no one else does.
"Fuck!"
Regulus drops his fork as a sharp burning pain shoots up his arm.
"Master Regulus what is being the matter?"
By the time Regulus is rolling his sleeve back, he already knows what it is—what it has to be. And there, on his arm, is the snake wiggling inside its skull, glowing bright green.
"Fuck," he hisses again, a little more controlled this time.
"But you is not being finished your breakfast yet!" Kreacher complains, sounding genuinely upset. It's almost enough to make Regulus smile. Unfortunately, there's already a sick feeling creeping up on him, threatening to make him vomit the food he has eaten.
"Keep it warm for me, yeah?" he manages, clearing his throat so he doesn't sound quite so scared. "I'll eat it when I get back."
He knew this was coming, of course. That after the dust had settled, and the wounds had been licked, they would have to come back together. To figure out their next move after the disaster that occurred at the Ministry. But god he's been dreading it.
"Is Mister Lucius going to be being there sir?" Kreacher asks as Regulus heads towards the front door, the mark on his arm begging to take him away, to Apparate to its master, unable to do so within the house's wards.
"Yeah," Regulus says, happy that his voice comes out steady this time.
"I expect so."
"Good," Kreacher hands him his jacket as they get to the entryway. "Perhaps if he be seeing you he will be leaving the house alone. It is most destructive when he calls." Lucius has broken several vases (Regulus was not aware they had so many) in his attempts to get Regulus's attention. It has not endeared him to Kreacher.
"Yeah," Regulus says noncommittally. "Maybe."
"I will be keeping your breakfast warm!" Kreacher announces, as though worried that Regulus might think he's forgotten.
Regulus opens the door, throwing the elf a weak smile over his shoulder, "Thanks Kreacher." He's barely on the front stoop before the magic in his arm is pulling him away. He can resist it of course, but when he doesn't, the Dark Lord is able to call him wherever he pleases.
It's not a surprise when he finds himself on the front lawn of Malfoy Manor, an angry peacock glaring at him as though he's just personally offended it. He stumbles, the landing not as smooth as it would've been had he chosen the destination himself. He stares up at the ugly house in front of him and sighs.
This should be fun.
"Well, well, well."
He's barely crossed the threshold into the marble entryway when Lucius's voice finds him. He's lurking in the shadows, clearly waiting for Regulus, leaning against the wall just under the stairs. He's wearing an expensive suit, his hair long enough that he's started braiding it.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Start from the beginning
