Author: Bitterfig
Title: The First Kill
Pairing: Severus Snape/Regulus Black
Word Count: 2509
Summary: “How did you do it, Severus?” Regulus asked. “The first time you had to kill someone? How did you make yourself do it?” Snape turned away, saying nothing. “Please. I can’t do this by myself.”
Rating: R
Warning: Violence, language, drug use, implied rape, references to incest and sexual activity by a teenager, slash, the Lestrange brothers in super creepy/snarky mode.
Author's Notes: Created for the live journal community 7spells using prompt set 7:6 “history repeats itself”
Beta: Nzomniac
The First Kill
Regulus Black had known the Lestrange brothers all his life. Rodolphus was his cousin’s husband, they were practically family, and Regulus’ family being what it was he had slept with both of them numerous times. During the past six months, however, the Lestrange brothers had begun to terrify him. It was something in their eyes, something that Regulus turned away from but which Severus coldly acknowledged. They had developed a taste for blood.
They closed in around Regulus, one on either side. Once upon a time he would have known just how to handle them. Then their displays of power, their boasting about money and importance, their fancy clothes and snobbery had just made him laugh. He had been the one with the real power because he could see how meaningless these things were. They’d turned the tables on him. Now they had the only power that really mattered, power over life and death.
They pressed close. Rodolphus ran his hand along the curve of Regulus’ arse. Rabastan wrapped a hand around Regulus’ arm. Intrusive, intimidating, and inappropriate—it was how the Lestrange brothers said hello these days.
“Tonight’s the big night, Reggie,” Rodolphus snarled gently in his ear.
“Ready to lose it all over again, little virgin,” Rabastan purred. Regulus had let Rabastan fuck him three years before, when he was fifteen. The arrogant bastard actually believed he had been a virgin.
“Get your hands off me,” Regulus warned them. The hands fell away but the men only drew closer, their voices blending one into the other as they circled around him.
“That’s right, we’re out of turn aren’t we, Rodolphus?”
“We certainly are, Rabastan.”
“Sweet, little Reggie is the exclusive property of Severus Snape these days.”
“Exclusive.”
“You can rather see it about him, can’t you?”
“He does seem rather pale and thin of late.”
“Rather grey and bony.”
Regulus found himself almost hypnotized by them, turning with them, trying to keep straight which was speaking. Their eyes seemed to glow red.
“Severus Snape, of all people,” one sneered.
“How on earth did you end up with him?” the other laughed cruelly.
“He’d probably never had a proper shag in his life before he ran into you.”
“Did you have to teach him how to fuck, Reggie?”
“Let’s hope he’s returned the favor and taught you how to kill.”
“Because the Dark Lord’s not going to let you hide behind Severus any more.”
“Time to sink or swim, little Reggie.”
“Time to prove you really have what it takes.”
“Time to eat death.”
“Leave him alone, you idiots,” a harsh voice snapped, disrupting the rhythm of their chorus. “Or you’ll be the ones eating death.”
They stopped short and Regulus could tell which was Rodolphus, which Rabastan. They were familiar again, their own bullying, loud-mouthed selves and not the deadly creatures they were becoming.
“Snape,” Rabastan greeted the man who had spoken. “We didn’t see you lurking. We were just offering your boy a bit of encouragement.”
“You two amaze me,” Snape said with open disgust. “Less than a year ago you were calling me a goon and an attack dog because I was willing to kill for our Lord. Now you’re terrorizing Regulus because he hasn’t been called on until tonight. When did killing become the particular jurisdiction of the brothers Lestrange?” His wand was drawn; he pointed it first at one, then at the other. “How many times have you performed the killing curse? Two? Three for you, Rabastan?”
“I didn’t need the curse that third time,” Rabastan grinned. “I used my hands.”
“So, you can murder like a Muggle. How proud you much be.” Snape sneered, pulling Regulus from between them. “We do what we have to do to advance the Dark Lord’s cause. Not for pleasure and not for our own gratification. Where are the others? We have a job to do tonight.”
“They’re on the way,” Rodolphus volunteered.
“Fine. And the Portkey is ready?” Snape asked. Regulus nodded, gesturing towards a small, framed painting of a woman huddled naked amidst blackberry bushes heavy with fruit. She hid her scratched and bleeding body behind her hands, behind her long and tangled mop of white and yellow hair. Her huge brown eyes glared fearfully but defiantly. A small, sharp unicorn’s horn jutted from her forehead.
“She painted it,” Regulus said. “The woman I’m going to kill, Vesta Foxglove.”
“You say that like you’re sorry for the tart,” Rabastan chuckled.
“Voldermort’s decreed, little one, someone’s dying tonight,” Rodolphus said.
“It’s her or you, dearie.”
“If need be, it could be her and you.”
“Shut up, both of you,” Snape ordered maneuvering Regulus to the veranda doors. “Regulus and I will be outside. Fetch us when Avery and Rosier get here.”
“Who are you to give us orders?” Rabastan demanded with indignation. Snape simply slammed shut the doors. Snape lead Regulus down the long portico, well out of sight of the brothers muttering curses. The August night was stifling hot; they were both in their heavy black robes but Snape was so emaciated he scarcely seemed to feel heat and Regulus was getting there as well, just as the Lestrange brothers had said.
“Are you all right, Regulus?” Snape asked Regulus just barely touching his cheek. There was always such a hunger in Snape’s touch. A hunger held back, restrained, allowed only the sparsest play. Regulus shook his head.
“I don’t think I can do this,” he said. “I’m going to point my wand at Vesta Foxglove and say Avada Kedavra and nothing is going to happen. Because I don’t want to kill her, I don’t want to kill anyone.”
“You have to do this,” Snape said sternly. “If you don’t do this, you’re going to die.”
“How did you do it, Severus?” Regulus asked. “The first time you had to kill someone…how did you make yourself do it?” Snape turned away, saying nothing. “Please. I can’t do this by myself.”
“It was the easiest thing I ever did,” Snape said. His voice, his eyes were hard and flat. “I’d spent most of my life waiting to say those words, fighting to not say them. It was effortless. It was the release of years of wanting.”
He grabbed Regulus’ hands in his own, the slightest tremor to his grasp.
“I can help you,” he said. “I can make it as painless for you as it was for me. You have a talent for Legilimency. Go into my thoughts, take my anger, take my hatred, whatever it is that lets me kill.”
“I’ve been teaching you Occlumency so you can keep me out of your head,” Regulus protested. “So your thoughts will stay your own…”
“I’ll let you in,” Snape said. “I’ll let you take whatever you need. I won’t lose you. You have to be cruel, Regulus. Be ruthless. Be your brother’s brother tonight. Be like Sirius. Use me, use this woman.”
The door opened, the other men cloaked and masked poured out of the interior.
“Tell me you’ll do what I’ve asked, Regulus,” Snape whispered, pleading. Regulus knew how hard it was for him to ask for anything.
“I will,” he promised.
The Portkey took them to Vesta Foxglove’s small and primitive cottage. It was surrounded by wild gardens, tangles of thorny berry bushes, strange bowers decorated with bones and pieces of dolls, strange distorted assemblages of paper and wire hanging down like Japanese lanterns of humanoid unicorns and swirling star systems.
“What’s this woman done?” Regulus whispered to Avery whom he trusted slightly more than the Lestrange brothers.
“Does it matter?” Avery asked.
“She was selected just for you, Reg,” Rodolphus piped up. “The Dark Lord knows you have a weakness for Muggles and their arts. He thought it was time to exorcise it.”
Regulus stopped dead as they reached the cottage door. “Wait, she’s not wizard?”
“Of course not. No wizard would waste their time making rubbish like this,” Rabastan scoffed tipping over one of the bowers.
“So she’s completely defenseless?”
“Right-o,” Rabastan said cheerfully.
“Even you should be able to handle her,” his brother added with a sneer, then he flicked his wand at the door. “Alohomora.”
The door swung open and the brothers pushed inside followed by Rosier and Avery. Snape held Regulus back.
“They’ll bring her to you,” Snape said. “Do it now before you see her.” His eyes were like black holes, there was no escaping them and Regulus, because he was afraid, did not try. He let his lover’s eyes draw him in, draw him to the depths.
The first thing he felt was a hand around his throat, choking off his breath. Utter helplessness, struggling against it, fighting even though it made things worse. Blame, disgust with himself, disgust with the world, anger, frustration and finally a hatred of everyone and everything that nearly overpowered him. Feeling it he knew he could kill. He even wanted to kill.
Regulus had what he needed but he stayed with Snape, stayed with his thoughts. Even overwhelmed by fury, the part of him that was in control, that knew he was Regulus Black and not Severus Snape wanted to understand what he was feeling. To know where the anger came from, to know what the helplessness was. So he stayed, let the images grow stronger even as he heard a woman screaming, heard the sounds of a struggle and the footsteps of the others coming to him.
Again, the hand at his throat. Fighting for breath, biting and clawing, struggling until he was beaten down, beaten into submission. Then there was tearing, bleeding, tearing, pounding pain. He couldn’t make out who it was doing this to him. It had happened more than once, more than one person. The memories were blurred together, superimposed one on top of the other.
Regulus focused, feeling the details of each time and place. Lying in the white snow, black hair in his face, red blood like a fairy tale. Someone was on top of him snarling obscenities. Regulus didn’t need to see the face, he knew who it was, he recognized the voice, recognized the words and the feel of the hands that held him down. It was his brother, it was Sirius.
He lost the scene, lost the details again. He tried again, several times and failed. Too much confusion, too much pain, too young to understand. He concentrated on the choking hand, the crushing fingers, inhumanly strong. And it came to him clearly—Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself leering down at him, dragging him to his feet by the hair, a hand grasping his throat.
“Now,” Snape commanded and the defenses Regulus had been teaching him sprang into play, slamming him back into his own mind as Rabastan and Rodolphus dragged out Vesta Foxglove twisting and fighting viciously. She had clawed furrows in Rabastan’s cheek, bloodied Rodolphus’ nose. With her red-smeared, white slip and wild yellow hair, she was the very image of the woman in her painting but Regulus didn’t see this. He only saw someone struggling, struggling against those more powerful than she, and he was overcome with anger and disgust. He raised his wand and spoke the killing curse. Vesta Foxglove went limp as a doll in the hands of the brothers Lestrange.
“Reggie, Reggie, Reggie,” Rodolphus laughed coarsely, tossing the dead woman aside. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Regulus, who was gasping for breath, only raised his wand again, this time pointing it at his cousin’s husband. Snape grabbed hold of Regulus, snatching the wand from his hand. “What was that?” Rodolphus demanded. “What did you just do? Have you gone off your fucking mind? You better not even think about cursing me, little Reggie.”
“Regulus has done what was required of him,” Snape said. “I’m taking him out of here.”
Rodolphus’ threats faded away as Snape Side-Along-Apparated them away. They reappeared just outside of the building Regulus kept a flat in. It was a risk Snape would never have taken under normal circumstances. Regulus lived in a Muggle neighborhood and they were still robed and masked but it was very late and he managed to drag Regulus inside without encountering anyone.
Regulus was breathing heavily. Once they were inside, he threw off his mask and started to strip away his robes so violently they tore and tangled around him.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Snape said moving to help him. Regulus smashed him across the face. The mask he was still wearing took most of the blow, breaking away.
“Don’t touch me,” Regulus snarled, pulling himself free from the remnants of his robes. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“Regulus, please…”
“I mean it, Severus. I have your anger but not your control. Until I bring myself down from this, you’d better keep away from me and keep me away from my wand or I’ll kill you.” Regulus warned him. He started fumbling through the drawers unearthing a candle, a syringe, a silver spoon with the black family crest turned at an awkward angle, an envelope of white powder.
Regulus had never shot up in front of Snape before. They had both carefully skirted any mention of his escalating use of Muggle drugs just as they had avoided by mutual understanding delving too deeply into Snape’s anxieties, his horror of being touched. Tonight, Regulus carried out the ugly ritual of fixing before his lover’s eyes and Snape watched, not turning away.
As the drugs took hold, the manic intensity faded from Regulus’ eyes. They turned glassy and his labored breath, which had been bordering on hyperventilation, faded to normal.
“I’m okay, Severus,” he said faintly. “Please come here.” Regulus drew Snape to him, burying his face in the thin, dark hair.
“You know what happened to me, don’t you?” Snape asked. “I knew you’d see. I wanted you to see. I wanted to help you but I also wanted you to know about me. Do you hate me now? For letting myself be used like that? For letting myself become so twisted?”
“I killed that woman, Severus. She was amazing, she was this unique life like no one else and I killed her.”
“It wasn’t you, Regulus,” Snape said. “I was the one who killed her. I killed her through you.” Regulus shook his head.
“I did it. I was afraid not to so I did it. I won’t do it again.”
“Don’t say that. You’re going to have to. We’re Death Eaters, the Dark Lord…”
“I felt his hand on your throat, Severus. You always feel that, don’t you? Voldermort’s hand at your throat. I’m not going to let you live that way.”
“What are you going to do, Regulus?” Snape asked, sad but unrelenting, always unrelenting. “Share your drugs with me?”
“We’re going to get out,” Regulus whispered. “Get away from the Death Eaters, get away from Voldemort. You’ve protected me; I’ll protect you this time. I’m going to find a way to get us out.”
