The water was ice-cold, like knives. Regulus kicked his legs, feeling the resistance of the water weighing him, keeping him from reaching the surface. Far above, he could see the blue of the sun reflection and a small speck.
"Nearly there..." a voice said, clear and ringing beside him, "Nearly there now son."
Regulus clawed at the water with wide-spread hands, trying to propel himself faster in anyway possible... and he could see now that the speck was a man, a man with bare-feet and wearing what looked like pyjamas... a man with long, flowing black hair... a man who was drowning.
"Nearly there..."
He broke the surface, shaking water from his hair, swimming toward the man, just meters away, hanging there in the water, pale, and blue-lipped. He grabbed hold of the hand, boney and cold, holding tight...
CRACK!
Regulus's eyes opened and he kicked frantically, struggling, his legs tangled up in his bed sheets, and he could hear someone screaming... screaming...
"Master Regulus! Master Regulus!" Kreacher's croaking voice was in his ears and Regulus realized the elf was standing on the bed, clutching his shoulder, and the screaming was his own, and he quickly shut his mouth. "Master Regulus!"
"I'm sorry, I'm alright, Kreacher," he gasped. Regulus sat up and finished kicking off the sheets so that he lay now on a bare mattress and curled so that he was against the headboard, hugging his knees to his chest, his hands folded over the ends of his toes. Catching his breath was difficult, and he sat, breathing heavily through his mouth for several long moments.
Kreacher stood, tentative, eyes wide and ears back with worry, staring at his master with concern. "What is it that ails Kreacher's Master?" he asked when Regulus's breath was finally steady again.
Regulus shook his head, "Just a bad dream, Kreacher."
"Master Regulus was calling for his brother," Kreacher said.
"Was I?" Regulus asked, and he looked at the door, flushing, then whispered, "Not loudly enough Mother could hear it, was it?"
"No. Kreacher's Mistress is away from the house tonight," Kreacher replied.
Regulus's brow folded, "She is?"
"Oh yes," Kreacher replied, "Mistress has left each night for the past week."
"I didn't know," Regulus replied. Then, "Do you know why, Kreacher?"
"Mistress is performing a service for the Dark Lord," Kreacher answered, "She goes, seeking something he desires."
Regulus contemplated for a moment. "What is it?"
"This, Kreacher does not know."
Regulus nodded, "Alright."
Kreacher snapped his fingers and a cup of water appeared on the night stand. "Drink, Master Regulus, you need water after bad dreams so to keep from drying up."
Regulus took up the cup, warily eyeing the water within, and drank the entire cup down in a couple of long gulps. He sighed and put the cup back down on the table.
"Do you want for Kreacher to remake your bed for you, Master?"
"Please," Regulus climbed out and Kreacher hurried to make the bed, clicking his fingers and climbing aboard to do finishing touches, like tightening the tucking and folding down the duvet. He plumped a pillow. "Thank you, Kreacher." Regulus climbed back into the freshly made bed and tried not to be reminded of the way the water felt in his dream as he let his legs slide through the sheets.
Kreacher stood beside the bed, peering over the mattress. "Does Master Regulus require anything else of Kreacher before he is returning to his cupboard?"
Regulus hesitated.
"Master Regulus?"
He looked at his hands. "It's just... I mean, if you want to, this isn't a command but... would you consider, perhaps... staying with me tonight? To keep me company?" Regulus asked.
Kreacher said, "It is not proper, if the Mistress found Kreacher had slept here, she would be most angry with Kreacher, and would beat him with the iron pan, or else the cruciatus." Kreacher shivered.
Regulus replied, "I understand."
CRACK! Kreacher was gone.
Regulus felt the full weight of the empty room, and he sighed and rolled over, his back to the door, eyes travelling to the window that overlooked the little park across the street. He rolled onto his stomach, hanging a little over the bed, and stuck his hand beneath the mattress until he felt what he was looking for.
The medallion flashed in the pale blue light of the moon that shone into the room, and he stared up at it, rolling back onto his back and holding it up so that it dangled above him, letting it spin. You Are Brave. You Are Brave. You Are Brave.
He closed his eyes and let his fist close around the medallion, and closed his eyes, counting the days until 1 September.
The dream restarted itself the moment his consciousness left him...
Walburga Black's wand pressed into the throat of a man who knelt before her, his hands bound by the incarcerous. "Tell me... where... it is," she hissed.
"I told you, I ain't seen no necklace like you're describin'," the man grunted.
"Now is not the time to be picky with your inventory, Mr. Borgin," she hissed, leaning close to his face. "Reservations for another buyer do not apply when it is the Dark Lord that's inquiring to purchase."
Borgin shook his head, her fist tightly wound through the man's greying hair. "I'm tellin' you, Walburga, it ain't here. I've got loads of cursed necklaces, but none with an amber stone like you're describin'."
He released him, withdrawing her wand, and the incarcerous fell away from his wrists. He rubbed his wrists and then his throat, looking at her with questioning eyes, "He wants it bad, this locket, 'eh?" Borgin asked.
Walburga glowered at him, "If you see anything - anything at all that even begins to fit the description - you call for me."
"Yes, m'lady," Borgin bowed his head.
"No one else is to know of this," she said, "I work directly and exclusively on behalf of the Dark Lord. Do you understand?"
Borgin nodded.
Walburga swept her cloak and went from the shop, her heeled boots clicking on the cobblestones outside as she glanced each direction, and hurried out of Knockturn Alley.
Borgin rubbed his throat again, and climbed to his feet slowly. He went to the window and peered out, relocking the door as he watched Walburga Black duck through the alley tunnel that led to Diagon Alley, her shadow moving through the dark. He turned back to return to his office and walked directly into a burley chest of a man taller than him. He paused and stepped back in surprise. "How did -- oh. It's you." He squinted up at the hairy face of Fenrir Greyback.
Fenrir hissed, "What was she looking for?"
Borgin hesitated.
"Yes, Mr. Borgin," came another voice from the shadows... and there emerged a hooded figure from the shadows. Long, bony, pale fingers wrapped about the hood, lowering it, and Borgin found himself in the presence of the Dark Lord. He bowed. "Very good, Mr. Borgin, but rather than pleasantries, I'd rather we exchanged the information my bodyguard seeks."
Fenrir growled.
Borgin stammered, "A locket. A locket with a snake in amber."
Voldemort's demeanor did not change - he did not show even a bit of response to the words. Instead, he simply fixed Borgin with a long and withering stare, before turning away. "Come, Greyback," he said quietly.
Fenrir snapped at Borgin, making the man shrink back.
Voldemort turned, leading the way out of the shop. "Greyback," he said smoothly, "Calm yourself. You'll have plenty to feed upon during the full moon if my suspicions are confirmed this night... Come."
Sirius stretched and opened his eyes as the mattress shifted. Remus was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling on his socks and shoes. "What is that fucking amazing smell?" Sirius moaned as he rolled to sit up.
"Breakfast, I reckon," Remus answered, tying his trainers.
"Do I smell sausages?"
Remus breathed deep. "Yes, with basil, cheese, and a side of fried potatoes, by the smell of it." Remus stood up, grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on over his shoulders.
Sirius's eyes traced the scars over Remus's stomach and chest. "That one's new." Sirius pointed. "When did you get that one?"
Remus looked down. "Last moon."
"Ned?"
"I mean... he was in wolf form," Remus shrugged. "He has as much control as I do."
"Yeah," said Sirius. He crawled closer and touched the scar, frowning at it.
Remus turned away and pulled on his shirt.
Sirius sighed and rolled out of bed, grabbing his trousers and tugging them on. He shrugged a shirt on. He chucked his leather jacket onto the bed, and grabbed his boots and hopped, pulling them onto his feet, the laces undone. He plucked the jacket up from the bed, grinning at Remus as Remus buttoned up his shirt. "Ready for breakfast?"
"Just getting my jumper and I will," Remus replied.
"See you out there," Sirius grinned, and headed out of the tent, blowing Remus a kiss.
Remus smiled, and bent over the bed, snagging his jumper from the opposite side. Something shiny caught his eye, and he bent further, pulling himself doubled over the bed to pluck it up from the floor.
It was a ring.
Remus stared at it, and his eyes swiveled to the door of the tent, and then back to the ring, and he quickly dropped it back to the floor.
Sirius sat on a log and plucked up a fork. The sausages sat in the pan, unattended. He cracked his fingertips and stuck the fork into the nearest sausage, tugging it out of the pan, and lifting it up, about to put it in his mouth when --
"Accio sausage!"
Sirius looked up as the sausage zoomed off the fork just as his mouth snapped over empty air. The sausage hovered in the air next to Lily's wand as she emerged from the second tent, holding a small bag of apples. "What the bloody hell're you doing, taking food out of a dog's mouth? Good way to get bit, Evans."
"Bite me, then," Lily replied. "You made a promise."
"A promise?"
"Mhmm," Lily nodded, and she waved her wand, sending the sausage back to the pan. "You may have a sausage after you go and get that mirror from the Lupin house in case Peter wants to get in touch with us."
Sirius made a face. "Oh come off it, Evans, I'll go right after breakfast, how's that?"
"You agreed to go before you have breakfast," Lily said, shaking her head, and she waved her wand, making the whole pan vanish as he leaned forward with his fork. "You can have sausages after the mirror's safely brought here."
Sirius glowered at her.
"Go." Lily pointed.
Sirius's eyes narrowed, "The Lupin house isn't in that direction."
"Whatever direction it is in."
"Fine," Sirius stood up. Then, "There better be loaaads of sausages left by the time I get back."
Lily said, "Well, James's stomach's been grumbling for the last hour, so you'd better hurry."
"Ferfucksakes," Sirius groaned, and CRACK!
Lily shook her head at the empty spot that had once contained Sirius and waved her wand to reappear the pan of sausages on the fire where they'd been.
"Was that Sirius?" James stuck his head out the door of the tent.
"Yes," Lily answered, "And he's gone to get the mirror."
James slipped out of the tent and went over to the fire, following his nose, "Godric, Evans, you're invited on every camping trip we ever take... so long as you're head chef."
Lily rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Just eat your sausages. And save some for Sirius. I mean it." She shook her hand at him in a warning motion, then turned to the other tent, sticking her head in. "Remus? Breakfast."
He looked up from where he was laying across the bed, pale and wide-eyed. "What? Breakfast? Yes. Coming!"
Lily gave him a side eye. "You alright, Rey?"
"Spiffing, yes." He waved, "Be right out!"
Lily shrugged and ducked back out to find James with his mouth full with the last of the sausages from the pan. "Honestly!" she said, "I was only gone for a second!"
James grinned. "I wuhssh hunnnguhhh," he said around the sausage.