Drabble 3 for Siriusly Smart's iPod challenge.

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"I'm here to end the game,

I'm living in a lie.

It's hard to give the same.

I won't be on your side."

-Guano Apes, 'Living in a Lie'

It had always been an elaborate game to Regulus Black, the way in which his parents followed the ideology of pure blood supremacy. It had taken him a long time to understand why Sirius, his smart and daring older brother, couldn't simply join in and make his peace with their parents; it would have made life so much easier, and it wasn't as though the elaborate charade could really hurt anyone.

But it had.

Regulus moaned, clawing at his throat. He writhed with pain, and his watering eyes caught sight of his mother. Walburga's voice echoed around the cave as she snarled at her elder son, eyes hard. Her words blurred into each other, clashing with his furious responses. Regulus wanted for them to be quiet and happy.

"Sirius, join in!" A small part of his mind told Regulus that his family were not there, and that it was far too late for their differences to be resolved. His throat burned. If he could only have water, then he could stop the shadows of the past from obscuring his present.

He had been like a little boy playing; first a detective, following the actions of the Dark Lord with a relentless fascination, and then a militant, enjoying the drama and the hype of following a cause. However, things had started to crack. Sirius had been right not to join in the preening and play acting, because it had hurt his closest and dearest friend: Kreacher.

Whenever there had been aspects of his parents', his, beliefs that Regulus had trouble fitting into his adventure, Kreacher had been there. Every time Sirius had reduced his mother to bitter, angry tears and had left home to lick the wounds her caustic tongue had caused, Regulus found solace with his house elf. All he wanted was for the throbbing ache in his stomach to go away, and for Kreacher to nurse him back to health, muttering stories about brave young wizards and pressing a spindly hand against his forehead more often than was strictly necessary to check for a fever.

Regulus grasped the rough ground beneath him and pulled himself to the ledge, unaware of the rock cutting into his hands. He scooped up the murky water, gulping down handful after handful, eager to return to Kreacher.

Voices whispered through his thoughts, and pale phantoms slipped in and out of his peripheral vision. Everything blurred, slowly becoming warm and dark. Warm and dark like Kreacher's cupboard.

Regulus did not resist as the skeletal bodies dragged him downwards, opening his mouth and drinking in the brackish water.

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