[daggers - part two]
[3rd] regulus

    "Well done."

    He tried not to flinch as the Dark Lord praised him. "You have proved yourself time and time over again, Regulus."

    "It was nothing," he found himself saying, "I just went with the flow." He forced a smile on his face. Keep the facade, his head told him. Do what you need to do.

    Beside Voldemort, Bellatrix smiled at him, a smile of malice and pride. "My cousin has made the Black Family very proud, my Lord," she said proudly, "he has eliminated the threat of the two mudbloods."

    That sentiment chilled him to the bone. For the first time, he felt like he was as evil as the rest of the people in the dark chamber, like sadistic Bellatrix or stuck-up Lucius, and the fact that Bellatrix- the older witch who had always tormented people and delighted in others' pain- approved of his actions basically proved that. He knew he wasn't the best person, but now he felt evil- it felt like living his worst nightmare.

    His dreams were filled with horrific scenes and night terrors, chilling him to the bone. He feared the person he might become, or was on the road to becoming. He feared the whole scenario he was getting mixed up in, this whole war, this situation of constant fear and terror- he was sick of it all. He was scared of the Order losing and having to forever live in a world ruled by his worst enemy, but at the same time he also feared of what would happen to him for obeying his family. He sorely wished he had someone who listened to him without judging him like she once did, even if he knew that would never happen again. He only wished his nightmares would never happen in real life.

    But he knew, that his actual worst nightmare had been lived out already. He felt like he had torn his heart out himself as he had stabbed her and disapparated immediately afterwards. He didn't even know if she was alive.

    He remembered disapparating to an alleyway behind the clearing and watching her fall to the ground, her blood flooding out, and tears fell from his eyelids as he watched the life ebb out of her and her friends running to her and he was unable to do anything. Not when he was the one to cause this pain.

    He looked around the room, locking his mind as he felt Severus trying to probe in, faking a grateful smile. His uncle, Narcissa and Bellatrix's father, Cygnus Black, had on the infamous emotionless mask of the Black Family, but he could see the tint of pride in those dark grey eyes. Lucius Malfoy had his eyes narrowed in envy, jealous of his younger cousin in law who had surpassed him. Beside him, Narcissa- always calm, always supportive Narcissa- avoided his eyes, staring at the ground. A fresh wave of guilt coursed through him.

    The depth of what he had done hit him, and he felt emotion rushing into his heart. How, how could he have load a finger on her, let alone stab her in a vital organ? It would be a miracle if she lived, and her blood was on his hands. Memories rushed into his brain of her helping him and doing everything for him. Was this his way of repaying her? He could believe what he had done, and it was enough to completely tear him apart. The girl he loved with all his might, in danger- life threatening danger- or she was already gone. Too late.

    And now, he regretted his actions more than he could ever say.

    "And now, all we need is to capture the Secret Keeper of the Order headquarters," Bellatrix was saying, jolting him out of his reverie, "and we're done. Wormtail, any ideas?"

    He had forgotten about the backstabbing traitor among them. Peter Pettigrew was sitting at the far end, shaking, and he felt no pity for him- he had, after all, betrayed his own friends. He imagined how broken hearted she would be if she knew, then he pushed it back down. He couldn't- couldn't think about her. It was too painful.

    But it was practically impossible. Everywhere in his mind, she popped out, and he found himself thinking of her all the time, and it was killing him. Every time he recalled her, he thought of that heartbroken expression on her face after he broke her heart at the cliffside, how her blood had spilled onto the cobblestones, how the dagger, the dagger she had given him out of love, the most precious object in his world, stained with her blood. Betrayal. Who was he to criticize Peter, when he ended up betraying her anyway?

    Peter hesitated. "I think they're suspicious of us Marauders, since someone informed James' family that the spy is in his friend group, I overheard him and Lily talking to the other girl- the mudblood before," he said. "So they don't really tell us much. But something makes me think its someone you don't suspect... it's not the older ones, like Dumbledore or Moody or the Prewett twins..."

    He silently gulped. During a conversation with Dumbledore, he had asked him out of her and Lily, who was more suited for the role of secret keeper. He had hesitated for a long while, and had been unable to decide in the end.

    "But James and Sirius probably know," Peter continued, "I'm even guessing it's one of their closer friends from the language they were using. But I do know that...

    "It's one of the girls,", he concluded, "the pronoun was 'she'."

    The Dark Lord laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that he didn't like at all. "They wouldn't make an injured girl the secret keeper. Even if she was before, they would've changed it already. If she's dead, even better. There's only one other powerful and most trustworthy young girl in the Order."

    His mind turned furiously. Voldemort was right- she couldn't be secret keeper if she was injured, she would have made a far too easy target; if she had died, then they would have replaced the secret keeper. There was only one possible solution, and Severus and him seemed to come to the same conclusion as their eyes met, and they simultaneously said:

    "Lily Evans."
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