Shifting Currents
Regulus Black stood at the edge of his balcony, watching the waves crash against the distant shoreline. The comotion from earlier had calmed down. On the bus here, his fellow teammate could not keep his mouth shut about Regulus. He kept on telling the others on the ride that Regulus was fake, that he had no place to compete for France, even though he was French, at least partly. Apparently Regulus was not French enough, whatever that meant, and would never compare to his fellow teammates that actually lived and grew up here. In some way his teammate was right, but also very wrong. He may not be born and raised here in France, but his mother and father did not let Sirius and him forget their French roots. It was embedded in the way they were raised, the both of them could even speak the language fluently. So the moment the team stepped off the bus Regulus could no longer be quiet. It may not have been the best start to the Olympics, but the stupid guy did in fact not know what he was speaking about.
Regulus watched the sea as he leaned over the balcony fence. The sea had always been a source of comfort for him, a place where the chaos of his life could be momentarily stilled. When he swam there was nothing that could reach him, nothing was able to hurt him there. But today, the familiar sight brought little comfort. The reality of competing for France—a thought that only his mother had implemented in his mind—had now become a reality. Of course he was proud, but his teammate, whatever his name was, words were still fresh in his mind.
From a young age, Walburga Black, his mother, had craved high ambitions for her sons. At five, Regulus had been thrown into demanding swimming lessons, trained by the best coaches money could buy. Walburga was relentless in her pursuit of perfection and seeing her sons as nothing more than extensions of her own desire. It felt like the two of them were only her sons for the purpose of her own status and recognition. For her, nothing was more glorious than a gold medal—a physical metal to show the superiority of the Black family. They were the most perfect family to ever exist, the one that would go down in history and for a time, it seemed her hopes would succeed through Sirius, her elder son.
Sirius was a natural in the water, his strokes fluid and powerful. He quickly outpaced his peers, winning competition after competition. No one had the slightest chance to pass him in the water. He became the shining star of the Black family, the son who could do no wrong. Regulus, on the other hand, was always a step behind. No matter how hard he trained, he could never quite match Sirius's times. He was literally swimming in his brother's shadow, struggling for the light that always seemed just out of reach. The second place on the podium, next to his older brother, became the constant reminder of how his mother saw him. Regulus became nothing more than the back up, if even that.
But everything changed when Sirius began to rebel. As a teenager, Sirius grew weary of their mother's expectations. He was tired of being moulded into something he was not, of living a life the way she wanted him to. The second he met James in school it was over. Sirius skipped practice, went partying every night and soon his times started to slip, not dramatically, but enough for Regulus to notice. It was during this period of Sirius's rebellion that Regulus saw his opportunity—a chance to step out of the shadows and claim the love from his mother that he desperately craved.
Regulus trained harder than ever, pushing himself to the brink. And his efforts paid off. He started winning regional competitions, and for the first time, Sirius found himself placing second. It was a surreal experience for Regulus, seeing the look of disappointment in his brother's eyes, the pride in their mother's. Yet, it was also the first time he felt truly seen. When Regulus won the national title, the triumph was bittersweet. Walburga, for once, looked at him not as an afterthought but as a champion, worthy of the Black name.
However, this newfound recognition came with a price. Walburga's ambitions knew no boundaries, and her sights were set on the ultimate prize, the Olympics. However, she wanted Regulus to compete for France and Regulus was completely torn. The idea of representing France was both exhilarating and terrifying. It offered a clean slate, a chance to become his own person. He was able to make an identity separate from his brother, he would no longer be Sirius’ younger brother, he would become Regulus Black. But it also felt like a betrayal, not just to Sirius but to everything they had once shared. Competing for France meant destroying everything that he and Sirius still had.
The decision had weighed heavily on Regulus, and he knew that Sirius would be competing for England. Sirius may have had a rough spot in his teenage years, but that did not change the fact he was made to swim. No matter how hard he fell, he would get up and surprise everyone with his talent and somehow still manage to win competitions. As Regulus stood there, watching the waves, he felt a presence behind him. He turned to see Barty Crouch Jr., a fellow competitor and, strangely enough, a friend. The two of them had met at school years ago and while Barty's love for fencing was worlds apart from swimming they still became friends in a instend.
"Deep in thought, I see," Barty said, leaning casually against a railing, his fingers gliding through his brown hair.
Regulus nodded, not surprised that Barty could read him so well. "Just thinking about how much things have changed."
Barty raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Still hung up on Sirius, the Olympics and everything else you have been talking about non stop then I see? You know, for someone who's so good in the water, you sure do let things drag you down."
Regulus couldn't help but smile, despite the heaviness in his chest. "It's not that simple, Barty. You wouldn't understand."
Barty shrugged. "Maybe not. But I do know one thing—this is your moment, Reg. Not Sirius's, not your mother's. Yours. You've got to decide what you want to achieve, not what they want you to." In some way Regulus knew that Bart was right but accepting it was an entirely different subject.
“You’re right I guess, it’s just hard you know. The pressure of all of this.” Regulus said as he waved his hands over the village. “It’s a lot.”
Barty gave him a small chuckle and placed his hand on Regulus' shoulder. “I forget you are funny sometimes, only you would say the Olympics are a lot of pressure.” To this Regulus only smacked Barty on the arm which earned him a small gasp.
“Okay, okay, I’m going to bed,” Barty replied and with that he was gone. The conversation was soon forgotten, but the thoughts still lingered in the back of Regulus' mind. What if he let down not only himself, but also the entire country. Maybe his annoying French teammate was right, maybe he should have turned down the chance to compete for France. Maybe he was in fact not enough.
–
After exploring the village with Sirius and finding their shared room, James decided to go for a run. The excitement of being at the Olympics had his nerves buzzing, and he needed to release some of the pent-up energy. Sirius had fallen straight into bed, apparently exhausted from their travel even though he slept through most of it. James chuckled softly at his friend, he was sprawled out on the bed and already snoring lightly. Sirius for some reason fell asleep too easily which was the opposite of James who could spend hours tossing and turning before drifting off.
James laced up his running shoes,made his way down the stairs and stepped out into the cool evening air. The village was still alive in the late evening with the quiet hum of athletes settling in, some milling around, others returning from training sessions or exploring the facilities. James set off at a steady pace, the rhythmic thud of his feet on the pavement was a comforting sound in the stillness of the night.
As he rounded a corner, he found himself running along a path that wound near the waterfront. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was soothing, and James took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air. The stars above were beginning to peek through the fading twilight, casting a soft glow over the water. It was moments like these that made all the years of hard work feel worth it.
James slowed to a walk as he approached the french athlete's housing complex, intending to head back to his room. But as he glanced up, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye. A figure stood alone on a balcony, silhouetted against the backdrop of the sky. The person seemed deep in thought, their posture reflective, almost melancholic. James squinted, trying to make out who it was. As he got closer, the soft light illuminated the person's features.
It was Regulus Black.
Seeing him there, standing there bathed in the soft glow of the evening, James noticed something different. There was a grace to the way Regulus stood, a quiet elegance that drew James's attention. His dark hair was tousled, catching the light in a way that made it seem to shimmer, and his profile was sharp and defined. For a moment, James was struck by the thought, he is... pretty.
The realisation hit him like a jolt, and James quickly looked away, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. What was he thinking? This was Regulus—Sirius's younger brother, for Merlin's sake! He'd never really looked at him like this before, and now... James shook his head, trying to clear the confusing thoughts. It was just the adrenaline from the run, the excitement of being here, he rationalised. It had to be. Besides, Sirius would probably drown him in the pool if he even considered Regulus in that way.
James glanced back up at the balcony, but Regulus had already turned away, disappearing into his room. James felt a pang of something—regret, curiosity? He was not sure. He shook his head again, more firmly this time, and started jogging back towards his building. This was ridiculous. He could not be thinking about Regulus like that. He was here to compete, to focus on his sport and support his friends. He had no time for confusing feelings or distractions.
As he reached his room, James took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts about Regulus. He pushed open the door quietly, not wanting to wake Sirius. But even as he settled into bed, his mind kept drifting back to that moment, to the unexpected realisation. James sighed, closing his eyes and willing to sleep. This was just a fluke, he told himself. Tomorrow, he would be focused and ready for whatever the day of training had in store. There was no room for anything else.
But as sleep finally claimed him, James could not shake the image of Regulus standing on that balcony, looking like a beautiful, solitary figure against the night sky.