The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

A Very Important Matter

Maryrose squirmed as Fenrir Greyback lifted her up, hoisting her against his chest. He smelled of blood and rotted meat, the hair of his chest poked out from his shirt and it was dirty and her face was too close to it for breathing comfortably. She fought, trying to pull back further, but he only laughed and held her tighter. "That's right, fight me little one, it only makes the job more fun for me..." he hissed in her ear.

"You're not doing anything to her," Wendy commanded, "I'm the one that captured her! She's going to You Know Who."

"Can't even speak his name?" Greyback asked.

Wendy hesitated. "She goes to -- Voldemort."

"We address him as Lord," Greyback corrected sharply.

"Lord Voldemort," Wendy amended. She was still quite new to all this, after all...

Greyback snickered rudely, shaking his head, and he looked at Maryrose. "The Dark Lord's going to enjoy having you to take his frustrations out on." Turning back to Wendy, he said, "We're going to the Black house. Love to take you, sweetheart, but it's under a Fidelus. I'll be sure to pass along your good word to our Lord." He grinned, and disapparated, Maryrose still clutched tightly to his chest.

Wendy had leaped forward, trying to grab onto Greyback, "WAIT! Wait! No! She - I caught her, not you and --" But Greyback was gone before she could grab hold of him.

Regulus and Walburga landed on the pavement before Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and stepped quickly within the Fidelus Charm. The moment that Kingsley and the others that had been put into the dungeons had arrived in the library, Walburga had grabbed a hold of her son by the collar, pulled him out of the fight - where he'd been mostly blocking the spells of Death Eaters as subtly as he could, multiple times saving the arse of his older brother (the idiot, singing the fucking Beegees in the middle of a battle!). When she'd got him into a small sitting room off the library, she had disapparated to London, just as Bellatrix Lestrange had begun screaming in the othe room...

Now, Walburga pulled him up the front stoop of the house and into the entry hall. "Go upstairs, get your things," she said as she turned into the library.

"Get my - my things?" Regulus asked, confused. "What --"

"We're leaving."

"Where?"

"I don't know."

Regulus followed Walburga into the library. "Mother," he said, his eyes wary as he watched her collecting some of the more precious items from her shelves. "Mother, we can't run away from him. He'll only find us... he'll kill us when he does..."

Walburga's hands were shaking, "I can't do this anymore, I can't have you in this kind of - of danger - just a boy -- and Sirius --"

"Sirius was alright, didn't you see him? Making them dance about --"

"Send Kreacher for Sirius."

"Mother, he's never going to come."

"HE DOESN'T HAVE A CHOICE!" Walburga shouted. "We'll go - we'll go to - Albania - to --"

"Mother," Regulus's voice was cold, even, and more adult than it had ever been. So much so that Walburga stopped in the midst of her frenzied grabbing of things. "We would never make it. The only thing we can do is fight Voldemort, is help to defeat him. We can't run. He would kill us both. And Sirius would never come, you know that. He has his friends, his - his fiance... his new family. He doesn't trust us. He doesn't even trust me - not to mention you."

Walburga stood, staring at her son, wanting to defy him, wanting to scream at him for not listening to her, but she knew he was right, knew she was taking the coward's way to even try running away. She collapsed into a chair, tears falling onto her cheeks. "How did you get to be so brave?" she asked.

Regulus didn't know what to say. Words failed him. But even as he tried to come up with something - there was a loud pop crack from the street just outside, and the door opened, and he heard Kreacher's voice simpering. "The Dark Lord visits the Noble House of Black... Kreacher will bring his tea..."

There was the hiss of a spell and a shriek from Kreacher, the slamming of the kitchen door -- Regulus's heart swelled at it, and he turned, his anger making his muscles shake, as the Dark Lord entered the library, his eyes red with anger and the muscles in his neck and forehead trembling. His wand was clutched in his fist so tight that his already very pale skin was even paler - as stark white as yew of his wand. He stood before Regulus, their eyes meeting for somehow Regulus had grown to be as tall as the Dark Lord himself, and there was a brief moment during which Regulus considered standing up against him. It was himself and his mother both against the Dark Lord - he couldn't disapparate - it would take one disarming spell and Regulus could finish the bastard off himself...

But Walburga had been ready to leave moments before, of course she wouldn't be ready to kill the Dark Lord now. No, it took far too much courage to even dream of such a thing, Regulus thought... and he backed down because he would only end up killed, and he was worth much more alive to help fight in the future than he would be dead on the carpet for standing up to the Dark Lord now.

Regulus held his ground just as long as he had the nerve to, then backed up into an exaggeratedly low bow. "My Lord," he said, voice low.

The Dark Lord regarded him for a long moment, and Regulus held the bow, staring down at the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. He could see the blood of the people that Voldemort had murdered in the dungeons, creeping slowly up the fabric, a dark red stain that had seeped into dark grey. His stomach twisted, wondering who in the dungeons had died, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the blood any longer, but not daring to rise until Voldemort had spoken.

Downstairs, the front door opened yet again, though this time Kreacher did not seem to dare to react to the new arrival after whatever strike Voldemort had given him. There were heavy steps on the stairs, climbing up to the library. The door opened, and Regulus heard someone come in, and there was the sound of a struggle, and he could smell the putrid stench of Fenrir Greyback. There was a thump of something heavy on the floor, and Voldemort shifted. Fenrir Greyback laughed ominously. Regulus opened his eyes - and very nearly lost his balance.

Maryrose Jenkins lay on the floor before him, bound.

Voldemort's voice was cold. "Regulus, my good and faithful servant... you may rise. The Dark Lord requires your assistance with a very important matter."