Hero of the Story || James Potter x Hermione Granger Fanfiction

55 | and darkness will be rewritten

"F-forgive me, my Lord," Regulus said, forcing himself back onto his feet. He then weakly extended his hand, the crumpled parchment sitting on top of his upturned palm. "I managed to get the location of the Potters' hiding place."

Voldemort slowly frowned. He knew about the complex magic of the Fidelius Charm and its restrictions. If Regulus had forcefully stolen the bewitched parchment from the Secret Keeper, it wouldn't work at all. "And what of the Secret Keeper?" he sniped.

Despite his pale face and slight shaking from the Cruciatus, a sinister smirk appeared on the Black heir's face. "Peter Pettigrew has been dealt with. He put up a fight, but I prevailed in the end." His silver eyes melted into dangerous mercury as Regulus dared to take a few more steps toward his master. "You need not worry, my Lord. The cowardly buffoon voluntarily surrendered the Potters' location."

A feral grin slowly grew on Voldemort's face. He didn't even mind when Regulus slightly flinched and backpedalled a bit when he quickly strode towards him. Voldemort snatched the parchment away from his hand and glanced at it – The Potter Cottage is at Number 27, Godric's Hollow.

Utmost relief spread throughout his veins. "You've done well," he said. Voldemort then slowly walked back to his chair and sat back down.

"Well then, Regulus," he silkily said, calmly interlacing his fingers. "Perhaps, it is time for me to pay them a visit."

__________

October 30, 1981

"Master Regulus is expected in the Dining Hall for breakfast," Kreacher croaked, popping into his bedroom.

"Very well, Kreacher. Thank you," Regulus replied, ignoring the curious glint in his house-elf's eyes. He knew it was mighty suspicious that he was awake already before Kreacher had come to wake him up. But, after everything that had happened last night, Regulus was at his wit's end.

He still firmly believed that this whole plan was bloody fucking insane. He wasn't sure if Pettigrew had been thinking properly when she'd concocted this ridiculous plan. Perhaps, being cooped up in a house with no one else besides her idiotic husband and their child had driven her insane. He really, truly wanted to protest that things would not end well if at least one of them wasn't able to properly do their roles. 'Not end well', meaning, Hermione Pettigrew—'Potter'— would die and Regulus, for the life of him, could not accept that.

But Dumbledore had his utmost trust on whatever ill-conceived plan Hermione had concocted, even adding a few ridiculous embellishments of his own just to make everything work. Who was he to defy the leader of the resistance? Dumbledore may be a better madman than Voldemort in all ways but still, he was a bloody madman. Regulus did not want to imagine what Dumbledore would do to him if he cowardly ran away instead of sticking to his role.

Besides, he owed this much to Hermione. No, scratch that. He owed everything to her. If she hadn't been an annoying, terrifying witch, persistently poking her nose into his business even when he'd made it clear numerous times before she should just fuck off, then Regulus knew he'd be an Inferius, swimming around the dark lake back at that stupid cave.

'Damn you, Pettigrew,' he thought, his fingers climbing up to his temples to ease his throbbing headache away. A part of him still cursed the strange stirrings in his heart that were evoked merely by Hermione's presence. He'd long accepted this certain fascination he'd had with Hermione Pettigrew back in their fourth year had bloomed into something more, but of course it was ridiculous now since she was married to James fucking Potter.

'Damn you, Potter,' he thought with a dark scowl, hauling himself out of his armchair and striding out of his bedroom. If Potter hadn't gotten to Hermione first, she wouldn't be in this situation at all!