Love, Life, And Lies- Regulus Black

.revealing truths.

.you will never be able to escape your heart. so it's better to listen to what it has to say.

I made my way to Dumbledore's office, my head swirling with thoughts of Regulus, the inside of my wrist still tingling from where his lips grazed my skin.

When I got to the large stone gargoyle, I said the password and watched it leap aside to allow me access to the staircase, leading to what I was sure would be an uncomfortable conversation. How was I to tell Professor Dumbledore that I was a cold-blooded killer? Dumbledore was the head of the Order of the Phoenix and I had murdered one of his best fighters. How could I ever face him? But I didn't have a choice. My feet carried my body up the steps, my mind forcing me to take one step, then another.

I knocked lightly on the wooden door at the top and heard a voice from within bid me enter. The room hadn't changed in the slightest from the last time I had been there, and I approached the claw-footed desk of Albus Dumbledore gingerly, feeling like a scorned child. My right hand was latched tightly around my left forearm, incredibly conscious of what lay beneath the thin fabric of my robe.

"Ah, Ms. Rosier," he greeted standing to shake my hand and gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit. Mr. Potter found you in a most timely manner. He has always had a certain- ah- shall we say skill? Yes indeed. A certain skill for knowing where to find the students of Hogwarts." He let out a merry chuckle, and the light that gleamed behind his eyes told me that he was very aware of what enabled James to find anyone in the castle.

"Yes, he is quite skilled," I replied, placing quite a lot of emphasis on skilled. That blasted map always seemed to allow them to turn up at the most inopportune moments. As irritated as I was, I remembered that it was the same map that had enabled them to find me the night Mulciber had attacked me.

"Ms. Rosier, I trust you know why I called you here this evening," Dumbledore stated, his hands dropping to the table in a manner that I knew meant business.

"Yes, Professor. I do have quite a lot to tell you." I replied, fear gripping at my heart. I knew that this was the point of no return. The moment I spilled secrets to him, I would be undeniably guilty in the eyes of the Dark Lord if he was to ever find out. But I had already made the decision, so I moved forward with a resounding rush of courage.

Unable to find a significant starting place, I pulled my arm up and rolled up the sleeve of my robe. The ugly black mark flared up at me, writhing on my arm, and marking me a servant of death.

"You've done it," was all Professor Dumbledore said, a hushed sort of awe in his voice. I wasn't quite sure what to think. Did he think I wouldn't go through with it? Did he think I would turn my alliances toward the Dark Lord?

"Yes, and it cost quite a lot to get it," I exclaimed, quickly pulling my sleeve down to cover the monstrosity. "He had the gathering in the home of Druella and Cygnus Black. There were about twenty-five to thirty members of his inner circle, all gathered to hear his words and to witness my initiation." I started, explaining the horror I had experienced mere days before.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He had a handsome feather quill that he stroked gently as he listened intently to my words. I wanted to warn him to put it down, seeing as I still had a large red stain on the front of my jumper from my misfortune with a quill earlier. I was sure that some of the things I had to tell him would warrant the same kind of reaction that I'd had.

"He addressed us about his plans, and what his end goal is. He said that Death Eaters have effectively infiltrated the ministry, Azkaban, and even Hogwarts. And then he called me to the front of the room." I closed my eyes, desperate to remember every detail that I could, fear licked my bones as I pondered on the things I had done. How would Dumbledore react? "Professor, all of his inner circle wears masks. Most of them are remarkably influential individuals in society, and he doesn't want anyone knowing the identity of all of his servants in case anyone were to turn over names to the ministry. But he made me remove my mask, and stand before the entire chamber. They all know my identity." I recounted, remembering the terror I had felt as I'd removed the mask from my face.