Regulus lay in his king-sized bed; his grey eyes wide open. He was lost in his thoughts and as a result, he lost track of time; he stopped paying attention to that fact when the antique grandfather clock announced the midnight. What not many people knew about that particular thing was the fact that it was the very first grandfather clock that had been ever created. One of Regulus' ancestors, which one, the boy no longer cared, received it as a debt payment from the descendants of its creator – the clockmaker was a Squib and spent his entire life among Muggles.

The teenager huffed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His life had changed quite drastically in the last couple of months, and he wouldn't be lying by saying that he no longer believed that he had any control over it, nor that it still belonged to him. Not completely, anyway. The Dark Mark on his arm was his constant reminder of that state of affairs; as long as Lord Voldemort was alive, he was his slave and the only way to escape his no longer wanted fate was death. Moreover, Regulus had an unpleasant feeling that he had already started paying for his sins… for his sheer stupidity. The problem was – his family members seemed to be in the crossfire as well.

Since it was already after midnight, as far as Regulus was able to recall, it meant that his father Orion Black had perished unexpectedly exactly a month ago, on August the 19th. What was the reason of his death, the Healers from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries had no idea. The young wizard was aware that all kinds of necessary tests had been carried out when the man was brought to the hospital, after all he had been there when the Healers were examining his father's condition in order to save his life. In vain. Orion had died the very same night, and according to the conducted tests, it was a natural death at the age of fifty; the man definitely wasn't poisoned nor was he in a fight beforehand. Still, fifty was a fairy young age for a magical person.

Regulus sighed heavily and absentmindedly rubbed his face before he turned his gaze from the ceiling to the person lying next to him, adjusting his body to match his head. A small, sad smile made a brief appearance on his lips when he started watching his peacefully sleeping wife, noticing that she kept her hands protectively on her visibly pregnant belly. If Charlotte's Healer could be believed, then their child should join their family at the end of September.

Regulus' hand found its way to his wife's. The blonde squeezed it instinctually, even though she was still sleeping deeply. The young man suppressed his laugh. He was an absolute fool who had many regrets, Annabelle being one of the biggest ones. Nonetheless, no matter how much his conscience was tormenting him for his life choices, he was also grateful for what had happened to him. He hated that he killed his friend, but he needed this wake-up call. Merlin only knew what would happen to him if he was asked to kill some random person. No. No matter how much it pained him to even think about it, he was silently grateful that his victim was someone he knew. Without this wake-up call, he would probably still be a blindfolded follower of a cruel monster. Without this wake-up call, he probably wouldn't have won his wife's forgiveness, as he would continue to disrespect her, and most definitely he wouldn't have a child on his way.

His biggest accomplishment. The light of his life. His dearest Hermione.

He doubted that he would ever forget Charlotte's dumbstruck look when he informed her that he would like to name their child Hermione. Most of the members of the House of Black were named after constellations, so she expected him to respect this tradition knowing that he was a traditionalist.

"Hermione? That's a very beautiful name. But why Hermione?" she asked him back then.

"Why not?" he answered her with his boyish smile. "You know that I'm quite interested in Greek mythology. Hermione was the only child of Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and his wife, Helen of Troy. Our daughter's going to be royalty among the wizarding community, so I think that she should have a name worthy of a princess. Besides, it's quite unique, so…"

The reason as to why he suggested such an usual name was far different though. He was a fan of Greek mythology, that would be right, but the truth was that he himself could recall asking exactly the same thing a few years ago. Why choose the name Hermione over their family tradition? He knew the answer now and he wished to make a statement.

"Hermione." That was the very first thing that Sirius told him when he entered his bedroom in the late evening during the summer holiday before his first year at Hogwarts. Back when they still had a good relationship. Back before his brother was sorted into Gryffindor. "My future little daughter's name. Hermione. Beautiful, don't you think, baby brother of mine?"

He blinked in confusion, putting his eldest cousin's old Charms book back on his desk – his parents wanted him to practice even though he was only ten – as he watched his brother making himself comfortable on his bed. He had no idea what the meaning of the older boy's unexpected confession was.

"Hermione… as in Helen of Troy's daughter? The Princess of Sparta?" he asked him and slowly got up from his chair and then headed towards his guest who nodded in confirmation, grinning like a fool he sometimes was. "That's… a lovely name. Unique one, if you ask me… but why Hermione? Why not a name that would follow the pattern of our family? And why are you telling me this now?"

"Oh, c'mon, my geek of a brother, who cares about some stupid pattern! You can follow it if you like but I want my child to be named Hermione. As for why… as you probably recall, Helen of Troy was said to have been the most beautiful woman in the world, right?" Sirius responded and took out his brand new wand out of his sleeve holster. He simply nodded at his brother's words, not really understanding what this all was about. "And, as you know, Grandfather signed a betrothal contract promising me to Lord Delacour's daughter. You also know Charlotte. She's only ten but I already can tell that she's going to be a beautiful woman in the future. My own Helen of Troy, the mother of my Hermione!"

"Um, Sirius, you… are aware that she has been abducted by Prince Paris of Troy, aren't you?" he asked hesitantly and absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck. No matter how much he tried, he failed to understand his brother's logic.

"So?" the older boy dismissed his question with the wave of his hand. "The contract says that we're going to get married once she turns seventeen, so unless you decide to be the Paris of our story, then I have nothing to worry about."

"You mean Charlotte and I? Gross!" Regulus winced at the mere idea of kissing a girl, anyone really, and he sat down at the bottom edge of his bed. "Girls are gross."

Sirius only laughed at his antics and gently stabbed his right arm with the top end of his wand.

"Sometimes I forget what kind of a weirdo you are, Reggie." His brother said once he regained control over his amusement. "Anyway… Hermione's a name worthy of a princess. You know that our family is one of the most important ones in the whole magical world, so my daughter must have a suitable name to represent her badass status. Besides, I intend to spoil her rotten. She's going to be my little princess. Both literally and figuratively."

"Sirius… you know that you might never have a daughter, right?" he asked him gently, not really knowing how he should behave right now. He was barely ten and his almost twelve-year-old brother was so convinced that he was going to have a daughter in the future that he had already picked up the name. "You may have a son instead of a daughter. In fact, I'm sure Mother would rather you sired a son."

"Mother can burn in hell as far as I care," the older Black hissed and red sparks escaped his wand. Sirius took a deep breath to calm himself down the moment he noticed that he made him flinch. "Apologies, Reggie. It didn't come out right. What I tried to tell you is that I don't want to have a son. Not really. I want to have a daughter, or I'm not going to have any children. Ever. But I know that in the future Charlotte's going to give birth to Hermione. I just feel it in my bones."

The current Duke of Lancaster decided to name his daughter Hermione because he wanted his brother to know that there was still good in him. It was his olive branch for Sirius, all because fate had decided, Regulus mussed regretfully, that his brother wouldn't have children. He was informed about it during Easter break through Bellatrix. She let him know that during one of the attacks, when he was at Hogwarts trying to find out Lord Voldemort's secret, she and some other Death Eaters ran into a few members of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius, naturally, was among them. His cousin gleefully informed him that she cursed his brother sterile, so he wouldn't be able to pass his traitorous blood onto his potential offspring.

The particular information made Regulus sick and for the next month, he was dreaming about nothing else but his once favourite-turned-insane cousin cutting his poor balls off and then forcing him to eat them. His punishment was much more brutal than his brother's – who, fortunately, still had his balls attached to his body – all because she somehow found out his plans for stealing and destroying Lord Voldemort's Horcrux. He was grateful that at that time Charlotte still lived in a separate bedroom because he was waking up, screaming and had to silence his room every night. The only thing that was keeping him relatively sane was the fact that around Easter he still was the Heir of their House and Bellatrix was obligated to protect him.

Speaking about the Horcrux… the new Duke of Lancaster had spent all his free time during summer to make a perfect copy of his former Master's locket. He spent hours in the Pensieve, watching Kreacher's memories and memorising all the details. His copy had to be perfect. He had only one chance to pull it off. The Dark Lord should never know what was about to hit him. If the wizard found out what he intended to do before he was able to destroy the locket, the consequences would be horrible, not only for him but for the whole world. The whole world, the Muggle side included.

Regulus sighed quietly and carefully got up from the bed, not wanting to wake up his wife. Charlotte was quite sick during the pregnancy and there were nights when she couldn't sleep, so he wanted her to rest as much as she could. Besides, he didn't want her to know that he was leaving.

A night before, he had finally finished working on the locket and decided that he should replace it with the original one as soon as possible. It was in everyone's best interest to get rid of that… beast as soon as possible. Regulus was determined to do it himself. Frankly, he was probably the only person who could do this. He was aware that there were spies on both sides – whom they were, he unfortunately had no idea – so it would be foolish of him to inform the Order about his plans. He would be long dead before he would be able to do anything. There was a small voice in the back of his head telling him that it was a suicide mission but… he had no choice. He wanted his child to be safe. He wanted all the best for his child – and being fatherless in a safe world without Lord Voldemort was much more important than having a father and living in constant fear, right? Or at least that was what Regulus tried to tell himself in order to excuse his actions. He wanted his baby girl to be raised in a safe world. And he was more than aware that Charlotte would take a good care of their first-born.

He quietly walked towards the wardrobe and carefully took out his favourite black cloak. The locket was already hidden in one of the pockets. The boy was about to leave the room when he unexpectedly heard his name.

"Regulus?" the young Duchess asked sleepily. "Did something bad happen?"

The wizard took a deep breath and slowly turned on his heel. Then he begrudgingly walked towards their bed, kneeling down. He hoped to leave without saying goodbye. That was too painful for him.

"No, nothing bad happened. I promise. But you should go back to sleep, dear." He tried to sound casual as he said it and grabbed her hand, which he then kissed. "There's just one thing I have to do."

"Have you been summoned?" Charlotte asked, yawning against her will. She was completely exhausted. "Honestly, must he do this in the middle of the night? Does he ever sleep?"

"Forces of evil never sleep," he joked and despite this whole situation, he forced himself to raise his lips in a small smile "But you should, it will be good for our baby. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," said the witch as she fought really hard not to fall asleep in the middle of their conversation. "Just be careful and come back, soon."

A bile rose in his throat, as the guilty feeling took over his body. He was aware that there were high chances that he was about to experience the last moments on Earth. Nonetheless, he forced himself to smile again and then kissed his wife's forehead.

"I truly care about you, Charlotte," he said evasively, being unable to say 'I love you' to her and then put his head under the quilt and kissed the girl's pregnant belly. "And I love you, Hermione. With all my heart. Please, be good for Mummy when Daddy is away, can you promise me that?"

The blonde-haired teenager chuckled when she was kicked in response. It was as if the little girl wanted to say that she understood.

"We care about you, too, Reggie. Come back quickly."

The words had failed him, so he did the first thing that came to his mind – he kissed his wife for goodbye and promptly moved to leave the master bedroom; Charlotte was asleep even before he reached the threshold. He smiled sadly and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him with a quiet click, he took a deep breath. He knew it was going to be hard, but he simply didn't expect that leaving his family behind would be so heartbreaking.

"Rinky! Kreacher!" he called quietly.

A few seconds later two house elves appeared in front of him. Both were dressed in special uniforms for house elves – made in Paris at Charlotte's insistence – and the crest of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was displayed on their left chests. Furthermore, both creatures had a small, silver pin with a letter "H" on their right chest, which stands for "Head Elf." Just like wizards had a hierarchy in families, the house elves also had one among them. The eldest family house elf was always in charge of other elves. Before Kreacher was forced to stay hidden, he was the Head Elf in the Black household, but right now that role – at least to the rest of the world – belonged to Rinky, who was Kreacher's nephew. Nonetheless, behind the scenes, Kreacher was still in charge.

"How can we serve you, Master?" the older creature asked and bowed respectfully.

There was a brief moment of silence. Just a short moment during which Regulus hesitated. Was he brave enough to do this? He highly doubted it. He was a Slytherin after all. He had many qualities but extreme courage wasn't one of them. Nonetheless, he forced himself to think about his unborn daughter. That thought was enough to give him much needed strength. He could – and would – do this. For his Hermione. For her better future.

He sighed, continuing to be silent, and took his watch out of one of his pockets. It was almost five. Damn. He'd really lost track of time. He hoped it was earlier.

"Rinky, I have a place to attend to. Please, take care of my wife during my absence," he addressed the young servant. "It would be appreciated if you could prepare her favourite breakfast. Don't wait for me, though. I doubt I'll make it for breakfast."

"Of course, Master Regulus. Rinky will make sure Mistress Charlotte is well during Master's absence," came up a polite answer and once he was dismissed, the creature disappeared; most likely to the kitchen to start making breakfast. His wife was usually up before six.

"Kreacher…" he said and looked at his little friend who observed him attentively, fear was evident on his elderly face. "I think it's time, Kreacher."

His faithful servant lowered his head and Regulus could hear him swallowing loudly, as they both knew what he was trying to say. He couldn't blame his companion for such a reaction, though, as he knew that Kreacher had cared for him deeply – he was at his side since the moment he was born – and didn't want him to get hurt.

"So… to the cave, Master?" the house elf asked him, wanting to be clear that it was his order, and hesitantly offered him his hand. He accepted it ever so slowly.

"Yes, Kreacher," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I want you to take me to the cave in which Lord Voldemort hid his locket."

A lone tear escaped Regulus' eye, running freely down his face. Before the teenager had a chance to wipe it, they disappeared with a characteristic crack.

"When I finish drinking the potion, I want you to switch the lockets and then, if that is possible, take us back home. Understood?" Regulus asked his companion, trying to sound confident, when they found themselves on a small island in the middle of the cave. There was nothing but a pedestal on which stood a basin full of an emerald liquid.

"Master Regulus… Master Regulus knows that Kreacher will gladly drink – "

"I know that more than well, my dear. However, this is something I have to do on my own," he interrupted the small house elf before he could finish his sentence. When he noticed his little friend's crestfallen expression, his face softened immediately and he knelt down before him, putting his hands on the creature's shaking shoulders. "Hey… please, don't be sad that you're not allowed to drink the potion in my place, my beloved Kreacher. I know that you'd stop the Earth for me if you thought that it would make me happy and I still, after all these years, fail to understand what I ever did to you to earn your loyalty as it is truly enviable. But I need you to be strong because without your assistance, I won't be able to leave the cave, and the potion would leave you essentially powerless. Last time you had to drink it, you were sick for days."

The response never arrived. Instead, his usually calm companion burst into tears and hugged him tightly. Regulus swallowed a bile that suddenly rose in his throat, numbly returning the gesture. He could feel tears appearing in his own eyes and he fought hard to keep them at bay. In vain, as a moment later he started sobbing quite ungracefully into his little friend's uniform.

"I don't wanna die," he whimpered, clinging to Kreacher as if hoping that he could take all his fears away and save him from what was about to happen. "The potion will most likely kill me. I have… I have a child on my way. I'm going… to be a father. I don't… Don't wanna… be gone."

"Master Regulus…" began the house elf, his voice hoarse from crying. "Master Regulus… one word and Kreacher shall drink the potion. Please, Master Regulus. Just one word."

Oh, the offer was tempting! So tempting that he almost succumbed to accepting it, seeking the easy way out. Almost. All because he, heavens be blessed, forced himself to think about Annabelle. He was sure that his friend was denied a similar offer. Ha! He knew that nobody had asked her if she wanted and consented to being repeatedly beaten and raped by several men – and one psychopathic woman – and then killed by a person whom she trusted.

No.

He couldn't accept his companion's tempting offer, no matter how tempted he was. He had to be the one to drink the potion. He owed it to his Herbology partner. Because of him, because she was his acquaintance, her last moments on Earth were extremely painful and inhuman. He had to pay for his crimes… for his sins. He had to wash away the guilt. He had to clear his conscience, even if that meant that he had to die in the process. He had to stop his former Master from achieving immortality, or else not only his little girl would be in danger but the whole world.

"No," he finally said, reluctantly breaking their embrace, and wiped his tears away. "I must be the one to do that. I don't want to… but I have to. For Hermione. So my baby girl can be safe."

The young Duke of Lancaster took a deep breath in order to calm himself down and quickly removed his wand from his sleeve holster. He waved it once in a simple pattern, conjuring up a crystal goblet, and secured it again.

Stumbling, he got up from the ground, keeping the conjured object in such a strong hold as if his life depended on it, and then poured some liquid into it. His eyes instinctively found their way to his faithful companion who continued to weep silently over his incoming fate.

"Once I'm unable to drink it on my own… and we both know that it will happen sooner or later, then you must force me to drink it. That's the order," he said, not liking the way in which his voice sounded – full of fear. "Once the basin is empty, switch the lockets."

"Yes, Master Regulus," came up a whispered agreement.

"One more thing – as you know, there are high chances that I might not survive our little… adventure. I hope that it won't be the case but… if it turns out that I won't be able to make it out alive, I order you to switch the lockets and try to destroy the real one. But, if you're unable to, I order you not to blame yourself for that. Do you understand?" He placed his hand on top of Kreacher's head. The creature nodded ever so slightly. "However, you shall not inform anyone about this. No one can know… because as long as the locket is intact, the Dark Lord shall live. If he knows that we discovered his secret… he will come to punish our loved ones. I can't risk Hermione's life. Or Charlotte's. Hell, everyone's lives!"

"Kreacher shall be as silent as the grave," the house elf promised solemnly. A moment later, his pointy ears dropped unexpectedly. "But what if… what if young Mistress starts asking questions? Master Regulus is in charge now. But when he's gone… Kreacher can refuse to answer question of other family members but he cannot lie to the Head of House. Unborn Mistress Hermione's next in line as is Master's firstborn child, even though Mistress Charlotte's going to be her Regent."

Regulus' heart sank, as he registered his companion's words. Sweet Merlin. He didn't think about it. How could this important detail skip his mind?...

"Then… well, then we must hope that nobody finds out that you were here with me, ever." The wizard put the crystal goblet full of the potion on the edge of the basin and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling as something unpleasant turned out in his stomach. "Charlotte woke up before I was able to leave the room. She thought… she thought that I've been summoned. I… couldn't tell her the truth. Merlin knows I couldn't… so, if the cave turns out to be my downfall… she'll believe that I was killed by Him. You know she despises the Death Eaters and my involvement, so she won't try to contact any of them to find out the details…"

"And she will tell Mistress Hermione her version of the story," concluded the creature, raising its head slightly.

Regulus smiled sadly in confirmation. He still had hope that he was going to survive the trip, but if it wasn't in his destiny… yes. It was a good thing that Charlotte woke up before he left the bedroom. Otherwise, there was a chance that she would assume that he got cold feet and tried to run away getting himself killed in the process, and he would rather be remembered as a dirty Death Eater in his child's eyes than a pathetic coward who was too scared to face parenthood.

"That's what I'm hoping for," he agreed, taking a deep breath. "If you are unable to destroy the locket and the Dark Lord is still wracking havoc… or if my daughter starts having some questions surrounding my mysterious death… tell her the truth. But only if she's ready to face it. Can you promise me that?"

"I promise, Master," came up the immediate answer.

"Thank you," he responded and picked up the abandoned goblet. He swallowed nervously when he looked inside it. The content didn't look very appealing. Green was one of his favourite colours but… not in this deadly form. "Kreacher… I have one last request for you."

"Yes? How can Kreacher serve you, Master?" the creature asked quietly. Tears were still visible in his big, bright eyes.

"No matter what happens today… I want you to promise me that you won't allow my daughter, my dearest Hermione, to commit the same mistake as I did," he whispered, still staring into the goblet in his hands. "Don't let her bow down before anyone. Not before the Dark Lord, if he's still around, nor before anyone else. She's the future Duke of Lancaster. She's going to be the most powerful – politically – person on our side of the world. I should never have accepted his Dark Mark, but I was too foolish to realise that. Please, don't let her make the same mistake."

"Kreacher will keep Mistress Hermione safe," the house elf promised solemnly. "Kreacher and other elves won't let anyone hurt Master's daughter, nor use her in any way. Kreacher shall punish harshly anyone who dares to cause harm to unborn Mistress! Kreacher swears this on his life!"

"Thank you, my dearest friend," the young wizard whispered and blinked back tears that made an appearance in his eyes. Again. "I have no words to express my gratitude for your undying loyalty."

Being aware that he couldn't keep avoiding the inevitable, with a furiously beating heart Regulus raised the goblet to his mouths.

"That's for you, Hermione," he murmured into the object. His hands commenced shaking. "Have a good life, my child. I'm sorry for failing you, as a father."

And before he could change his mind, he promptly drank the first cup.

The moment the emerald potion touched his tongue, the young Duke of Lancaster had a strange feeling that someone just set his poor organ on fire. His eyes shut almost immediately, as if he hoped that not seeing anything would make the unpleasant sensation go away. In vain. He swallowed the potion, not being able to keep it in his mouth for much longer. He almost bit off his tongue when he did that; the potion started burning his insides and he was unable to do anything about it.

An unanticipated, bloodcurdling scream escaped Charlotte's mouth, echoing around the almost emptied 12 Grimmauld Place, when a sudden burst of magic attacked her from the inside, waking her up from her peaceful sleep in the process.

Regulus coughed, fighting with the increasing pain; his eyes were still closed. Nonetheless, he forced himself to fill the crystal cup again. Now it was too late to change his mind. He had to finish what he started. So his former Master could be stopped. So his daughter could be raised peacefully.

He emptied the contents of the goblet. His whole body started trembling – more than it already did. An abrupt headache made him feel dizzy, fortunately his legs stayed strong. He wanted to vomit. Truth to be told, he wouldn't be surprised to find out that he just did that, as something escaped his mouth against his will. With great difficulty, Regulus forced his uncooperative eyes to open. Blood. The ground was coloured in his blood.

"Fuck," he whispered when he saw it, his voice full of pain. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be in his bed. Instead, he put the goblet in the basin again.

With shaking hands, Charlotte forced herself to pull off the quilt. She felt hot. Both literally and figuratively. She had a feeling that someone started a bonfire in her stomach, wanting to burn her alive. With Fiendfyre. She had no idea what the reason of her unexpected condition was. She could only hope that her child was going to be okay.

"No…" That was all she could say, as fear paralysed her when she noticed that her light blue nightgown was covered in blood.

"I heard scream, Mistress Charlotte!" Rinky appeared in the master bedroom as soon as he was sure that the kitchen wouldn't burn down during his absence since he was in the middle of cooking breakfast. "Is Mistress Charlotte hurt?"

In response he received another bloodcurdling scream.

The third portion of the potion made him weaker, he almost lost his footing. His head was killing him and even such an easy job as breathing became an unbearable task. Regulus gritted his teeth. He could do this. He would do this. For his daughter's sake.

The goblet found itself in the basin for the fourth time.

Charlotte was struggling to catch her breath. It was as if some invisible force was squeezing her lungs, stealing her breath away. She had no idea what was happening to her. Was she giving birth? Or was she just having a miscarriage? She had no idea. But she was aware that it wasn't normal. She screamed again. Even her voice sounded strange. Inhuman. She could barely hear the frantic house elf, nor could she see his fruitless efforts to help her. Her head was killing her. Maybe if she could close her eyes, then she would drift off…

"I find this whole situation ironic." Regulus heard a familiar voice once he swallowed the fourth portion of the emerald liquid. "A proud, pureblood wizard… the Dark Lord's willing follower… a murderer… ended up drinking a blood of a Muggle-born wizard."

Regulus forced himself to open his eyes. As he noticed, he was lying on the ground and his disowned brother was standing above him. A cruel smirk was present on the older Black's lips.

"That's… not anyone's blood," he answered with difficulty. "Doesn't taste like blood."

Hallucinations, the teenager realised. He knew that he would have them sooner or later. After all, he spent so many days re-watching Kreacher's memories that he knew what was in store for him. Just like he knew that the only way to empty the basin was to drink the potion. While he was creating the fake locket, his house elf was looking for the way to safely banish the potion. Unfortunately, the only way to do that was to drink it. The liquid couldn't be poured out, otherwise the whole basin would become full again, and an army of Inferi would rise from the lake surrounding the small island.

"No… it's not, actually. I just wanted to see your reaction when you hear that," Sirius agreed and sat down next to him. A moment later he offered him the goblet which was full. Again. "Here you go, little brother of mine. Be a good boy and drink it. Show me that you're able to change. That there's still hope for you."

Regulus looked at his brother, having tears in his eyes. He was vaguely aware that his brother wasn't really here; Sirius was probably causing mischief with James Potter and the rest of his band of friends, while trying to be a proper member of the Order of the Phoenix. The young Duke knew that it was Kreacher who gave him the potion but… he liked to think that Sirius was here with him. It was nice to have him back in his life. Even for a little while. Even if their meeting wasn't real and the older wizard most likely still hated him with a burning passion.

She couldn't see anything. At first she thought that she lost her sight, but it turned out that her vision was blurred by tears. She would laugh if she could. She was certain that she has already cried an ocean of tears, but for some unknown for her reason the fire in her body was still very active. She wanted it to stop. Right now. Otherwise, she'd burn alive.

"I'm sorry for being such a jerk," he whispered. He was still on the ground but his head lay on his brother's laps, and the older boy – a young man, in fact – was gently playing with his short hair. "You can't even imagine how sorry I am for everything I have done."

"Shh… you don't have to say anything, Reggie. I'm here for you. Everything is going to be okay," said his brother, smiling softly; he offered him a goblet again. "You'll see. But now drink this and don't think about anything. She'll eventually come round."

"Come round?" he asked, begrudgingly draining the contents of the cup. "Who are you talking about?"

"Me," said an unfamiliar girlish voice. Nonetheless, Regulus' heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw who it was.

"It hurts… so much." Charlotte panted through clenched teeth. She couldn't move. Her body refused to cooperate with her no matter how much she tried to change her position, to see what Rinky was doing and – most importantly – to found out if her unborn child was safe.

"Rinky knows," the little creature called from… somewhere. She honestly wasn't sure where he currently was. "Rinky does what he can to stop… Sweet Merlin!"

"What… is something wrong with my baby?!" She wasn't sure how it was possible, but she finally forced herself to move. Must be adrenaline, she thought through pain. She still couldn't see anything through her tears but she – at last – was able to locate her companion. He was cleaning her wound.

"Young Mistress Hermione is a strong baby," the creature reassured her and gently helped her lie back down. "But the situation is dire. Rinky can sense the shift in his allegiance – it transfers from Master Regulus onto the unborn Mistress."

"No… this can't be happening… if you can sense the shift in your allegiance then it means that – "

"Master Regulus is dying as we speak, yes," the house elf announced seriously, dropping his ears.

Charlotte forgot how to breath when she heard that and with difficulty put her hands on her pregnant stomach. No. She refused to believe that. Rinky must have been wrong. He had to be!

Regulus' eyes opened widely when she saw a young girl with bushy brown hair and brown eyes. She couldn't be older than eleven-years-old and yet she had a rather nasty cut on her right cheek. The young Duke swallowed loudly. Her voice had changed but he was certain that it was the older version of the child from his nightmare – the child that called him "Daddy."

"Hermione." The name escaped his mouth without his knowledge.

"That would be me," she answered with a sneer. It was obvious that she didn't want to be here – and what his daughter was doing in his head in such a form… he had no idea. In the meantime Sirius – or was it still Kreacher? – forced him to drink another portion of the potion.

"Make it stop!" Charlotte shouted as another wave of pain hit her body. It was getting worse with every passing moment. "Make it stop, please!"

"Rinky tries!" responded the house elf.

The creature worked hard to stop the bleeding. For some unknown for him reason, the young witch was bleeding from literally every hole she had possessed. Both ears, nostrils, mouth… but the worst was her vagina bleeding. In any other situation Rinky would blush furiously upon seeing his Mistress' female parts of the body, but the situation was too serious to care about it now. Moreover, the house elf had no idea why his Mistress was bleeding like that. But whatever reason it was – he knew that wasn't normal nor wasn't it good for the witch.

"Are you proud of yourself now?" she asked him with such hatred that it made him sick. "You ruined out family. You broke Mother's heart. She never recovered from what you did. If it wasn't for Uncle Sirius… she would be already gone!"

"I'm sorry, my dear," he whispered. He had no idea what else he should say in such an unexpected situation. He knew it was just his imagination. He was a talented Occlumens, and knew how the potion worked thanks to Kreacher's memories, so he had prepared himself. Still, his daughter's behaviour – even though the girl wasn't real – hurt him immensely.

"Don't bother, Father," said the little witch. "I don't care what you have to say because I'll never forgive you!"

This time Sirius didn't even have to ask him to empty the goblet. He did it as soon as he could. Because he couldn't stand his daughter's hatred and wanted it to end as soon as possible.

"Please… stop. I can't… no more!" Charlotte sobbed because the pain increased again. She clenched her hands on the quilt. "Please… take it away. Stop. Stop. I can't…"

"Soon, Mistress," Rinky reassured her… knowing that there was little he could do. His Mistress was in pain, screaming alternately in English and French, not even being aware of that. Furthermore, his bond with Master Regulus was getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment while the one with his unborn Mistress Hermione was getting stronger. "But now I need you to be strong. For your daughter. You cannot give up."

"Daughter?" she asked him with confusion, but a small smile made an appearance on her pale, sweaty and covered in blood face. "I have a daughter?"

The creature winced at the question. It seemed that the pain made the witch forget that she was pregnant in the first place.

"Yes, Mistress Charlotte," responded Rinky. "A little girl named Hermione."

"Hermione," she said the name carefully. "Hermione… what a lovely name."

A bloodcurdling scream once again escaped the girl's throat. The house elf bit his bottom lip. He had an unpleasant feeling that he knew what was going to happen next and he really didn't want it.

"How could you, Father?" Hermione began angrily as soon as he seventh portion stopped burning his throat. "How could you bow down before this monster? The Blacks never bow down before anyone! The Dark Mark on your forearm is the reason why our family is broken!"

"Hermione… I was young. Foolish," he started quietly and with his silent brother's help he slowly got up from the ground. "I made a mistake."

"Uncle Sirius was also young and surrounded by people devoted to this beast, but somehow he was able to choose the right side of the war!" sneered the girl and rolled her eyes for good measure. "A young age is not an excuse."

"No… of course not it's not. You're right."

And with these words, he accepted the eight goblet of the potion.

The young Duchess' spine-chilling screams were echoing around the emptied 12 Grimmauld Place. Rinky was doing all he could to help his Mistress but he knew that there was nothing he could do to make the pain go away. He watched with fear as the witch's stomach was literally ripped apart as if it was nothing but a piece of bread. The blonde was in terrible condition, even when he first arrived to the bedroom, and taking her to the hospital was out of the question, as Apparition would kill the child; no matter how bad it sounded, Rinky would always choose his unborn Mistress as the Black family magic required him to protect the future Head of House. At the same time, bringing someone else here was also impossible because once Master Regulus became the Patriarch, he changed the enchantments of the building – only people he invited on a given day could enter when he wasn't around. He became quite paranoid in the last few months.

Rinky wiped away the tears that began rolling down his face. His Mistress was dying a painful death and there was nothing he could do to help her. He already knew that she wouldn't survive the birth – Magic itself was tearing her apart. All because, as he suspected, Master Regulus was dying and his successor wasn't even born, which meant that Magic had to intervene. It seemed that the Heiress had to be born before the current Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black breathed his last breath. Why? Rinky wished he knew.

"I think we should go," said Sirius when he handed him the crystal goblet, which was full again – for the ninth time – and waved towards Hermione to let her know that he wanted to talk with him alone. His daughter only nodded in response and disappeared as soon as she appeared. "She needs time. She's still young and doesn't fully understand the reason of your death."

"I know… I just can't stand the idea that I failed my only child like that," he muttered into the crystal goblet. "I still can't believe that I willingly joined the Death Eaters. I was a stupid fool."

"You were," Sirius agreed. "But now you're different. You've changed. Just drink the potion and have hope that one day everything will be okay."

Not being able to formulate a response, Regulus simply nodded and emptied the object. He coughed once he swallowed the contents and lost all strength in his legs; he didn't fall down only because Sirius caught him in the very last moment and helped him to lie down.

"I'm tired, Sirius," he said and shuddered. "So tired…"

"I know," responded his brother and smiled slightly at him, before he pressed a gentle, almost forgiving, kiss on his sweaty forehead. Just like he used to do when they were younger and he was terrified of something. "Everything will be over soon. I promise, baby brother of mine."

The young Duke of Lancaster nodded at that and closed his eyes for a brief moment, to blink his tiredness away. When he opened them again, Sirius was gone and Kreacher was applying him the ninth portion of the liquid. Soon everything should be over. He trusted his brother, even though he was nothing but a part of his imagination

Rinky's hands were shaking uncontrollably when he was picking up his young Mistress. She was covered in blood, her umbilical cord still intact. He swallowed because the child was silent – and as far as he knew, they should be crying – and cast traditional medical spells on her to check her health. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything was in order. His young Mistress was a strong and healthy baby, despite the conditions and situation in which she was delivered to the world.

"Care… for her," said Charlotte who was staring blankly at the little creature and her child. "Tell her… we… loved her. Much. Always."

She closed the eyes before Rinky had a chance to react; they shall stay closed forever. At the same time, the date of death appeared next to her name on the Black family tapestry, the very same date that announced the birth of the Heiress of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black just a few moments ago – September the 19th, 1979.

"Charlotte." Regulus screamed when he felt that he was released from his marital vow. But why? What happened? Could that mean… in the end there was only one reason for that to happen…

"Yes. Mistress Charlotte is gone." Kreacher confirmed sadly, handing him the crystal goblet again. "But fortunately, Mistress Hermione is going to be okay. Kreacher can feel her. She's a strong baby. Strong bond."

"Not… as planned," he panted. One more time breathing became an immense problem.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to express his disagreement, his disapproval. He wanted to scream. To scream that life was unfair for stealing his wife so unexpectedly. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Charlotte was meant to live a happy and safe life with their daughter. She wasn't supposed to die. She couldn't die. The Healer said that she was healthy during the last visit so why did she die? Why now? He had no idea. And he was unable to say anything because his muscles refused to cooperate.

"The last one, Master," Kreacher told him and helped him to direct the goblet towards his mouth and then swallow the liquid. "Then Kreacher shall switch the locket and take us home to young Mistress."

Regulus shuddered once he drank the last portion of the potion. He was exhausted. And thirsty. So thirsty… he would like to drink something. Something cold. Oh, the water surrounding the island seemed to be just what he needed. Cold. Just like the Inferi that he knew were living there.

"No. Without me," he whispered although speaking cost him a lot of energy. He was aware that he wouldn't make it back to their home. He could feel the Patriarch's powers – or, was it now Matriarch's? – being transformed onto his daughter, and he was aware that Kreacher could feel it as well. There was no hope for him. He was already a dead man. "Take... locket. Try… destroy. Care for… Hermione. Sorry."

"Master Regulus – "

"Now. Order."

Kreacher's old arms embraced him tightly for the very last time. He didn't see his face, but he could tell that his little friend was crying. They both were. A moment later the creature finally got up and went to follow the order. The wizard observed his ever faithful companion taking the Horcrux and hiding it safely inside his uniform's pockets. He tried to smile but winced instead. Maybe his death wouldn't go in vain.

When Kreacher was about to put the fake locket inside the basin, Regulus felt something cold and bony on his arm. An Inferius.

"Master!" Kreacher squealed when he noticed that they were under attack and with snap of his fingers the fire barrier appeared between them. Regulus' attacker ran away as soon as possible.

"Go," he said. He was so cold. So exhausted. And weak. If he would survive another two minutes, it would be a miracle. "Hermione."

"I can't leave you here, Master!" the house elf argued hotly and appeared next to him. "Not with them, not like that!"

"Just go," he repeated and with great difficulty touched his companion hand. "Hermione… thank you."

The old creature squeezed his hand, tears continued to run down his face, and then disappeared with a characteristic crack.

The fire stopped the moment Kreacher disappeared. The Inferi reassumed their attack immediately. Regulus could feel their hands on him. He could feel being dragged through the island… then he became wet. They dragged him into the water. How many of the Inferi were there? Hundreds? Thousands?... Regulus had no clue. He only knew that he was tired. So tired… he wanted to close his eyes. Only for a moment. Only for a short while… yes. He wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep seemed to be an amazing idea right now. So he closed his eyes.

And they stayed closed. Forever.

Kreacher appeared in the master bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place a moment later. His whole body was shaking against his will. Tears were freely running down his face and he was in no shape to stop them. He wasn't even sure if he wanted it. His dear Master Regulus stayed in the cave, alone with these foul creatures of darkness, and didn't allow him to take him back. The house elf shuddered. Magic was beautiful but it could also be a dangerous force. There were some boundaries that shouldn't have never been crossed. Creating Inferi was one of these things. It was a crime to profane a body. Even… even the ones that belonged to Muggles. Kreacher supported his Master's plan wholeheartedly. The Dark Lord must be stopped no matter what.

Kreacher wished he could return and help his dear Master… but even Master Regulus knew that there was not enough time left for him. There was no hope for him. No magic would save his life now.

"Uncle?" Hearing his nephew's voice, the old house elf turned towards its source. Rinky sat at the bottom edge of the bed and was holding a baby in his arms, cleaning it from its blood. Their Mistress Hermione. "Did you go with Master?"

"I did. Yes," he answered and moved towards the furniture. A grimace made an appearance on his face when he noticed that the quilt was in blood; the blonde's body was covered. "He wasn't strong enough to make it back. He sent me away, so I didn't have to watch his death."

"What about his body?" asked Rinky and once the child was cleaned, he snapped his fingers to summon some clothes for her. "Are you going to take it back once… he's gone?"

Kreacher shook his head and gently uncovered his dead Mistress' body. He almost vomited when he saw its state.

"No… there will be no body to bury once Master Regulus is dead," he whispered, shuddering when he thought that his Master would be dragged into the water by the Inferi. Then he picked up a bowl of water and a cloth that Rinky summoned for him, and gently started cleaning the French witch's body. "At least… he won't be looking as bad as Mistress Charlotte."

"That was brutal," confessed Rinky and hugged the child protectively. "And there was nothing Rinky could do to help her. Rinky could feel that Magic started transferring Headship onto the yet unborn Mistress. Magic literally ripped Mistress Charlotte apart, so the child could be born before Master Regulus passed away. I just don't know why."

Kreacher opened his mouth to answer. To let his nephew know that it wasn't his fault, that they were powerless in this situation. In fact, even he had no idea that Master Regulus' death would have such unexpected consequences. He had lived for many years, he knew a lot about magic. He had seen many times how Headship had been passed from a parent onto their child. Nothing like that had ever happened. This was unique. That was the very first time when a child was becoming a Head of House when it was still unborn. They didn't expect that. Master Regulus thought that Mistress Charlotte would serve as the child's regent until she was old enough to accept the Headship – the youngest Head of House in the history of wizarding world was thirteen, if he remembered correctly.

"I can only – "

Before he had a chance to formulate his sentence, a rush of power hit the room. The child in Rinky's arms started glowing a bright light. Kreacher had to cover his eyes. It was so bright. So… different. He could barely see a silver line that connected him with Mistress Hermione. The shift in power. Regulus Arcturus Black, Duke of Lancaster and the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, had perished; just like in his wife's case, the date of his death appeared next to his name on the family tapestry – September the 19th, 1979.

"Magic declared her an adult…" Rinky said in awe, once the glowing disappeared, staring at the child; it was still silent. "She has… she has no regent. She is emancipated… How is that possible, Uncle? She was born less than ten minutes ago!"

"Mistress Charlotte is gone, too. I fear this must be the case," he said, not really knowing what to think about all of this.

"So… what are we going to do now, Uncle?" Rinky asked fearfully. He had a bad feeling about this whole situation.

"Now? Now we're going to do what we always do – we're going to serve the new Head of the family," he answered solemnly.

There was a silence. Rinky looked at the sleeping child in his arms and then back at his Uncle.

"The wizarding world is not going to like this…" the younger elf muttered. "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is one of the most important Houses in the world. They shall want to take control over her."

"Yes. They will come after her, I'm sure about it," Kreacher agreed with his nephew. "Both sides of the war… They will want to take her powers for themselves, one way or another. That's why, from this moment on, everyone is an enemy. Everyone is a potential threat for Mistress Hermione's safety. We cannot trust anyone. Master Regulus made it clear that he doesn't want his Heir to bow down before anyone. He didn't want her to repeat his mistakes. We must fulfil his wish."

"I shall die first before I let my Mistress be hurt!" Rinky declared hotly, gently swaying the child in her arms. "Rinky shall kill anyone who dares to harm Mistress Hermione, or he shall die trying to save his Mistress!"

A/N: Thank you for reading! It would be lovely to hear what you think. Hermione and Co. shall return in their own story - with the working title: The Black Princess.