Chapter 1
Regulus was cold. That wasn’t unusual, given his profession and the towns that it had dragged him to throughout the course of his career. But right now, Regulus was cold. It was seeping into his bones, all consuming and the only thing he was aware of. There was a buzzing in his ears, he couldn’t open his eyes and it felt like all the breath had been forcefully snatched from his lungs.
The buzzing seemed to grow louder, more intense until it became barely legible murmurs from all around him. So many, that they turned into nothing, he couldn’t seem to grasp what a single voice was saying. He twitched his pinky, willing himself to slowly move his whole hand and eventually his arm which based on the shout of surprise that he heard, was an achievement. His eyes clenched tighter for a moment, before he was able to peek a single eyes open which - okay, no, bad idea. The ice was bright, everything was bright, and it hurt and –
“Regulus, baby, open your eyes for me.”
That voice. He liked that voice, every part of his being liked that voice. It was a visceral reaction that he couldn’t deny, despite knowing how much pain it would bring him.
His eyes blinked open, a whine of pain slipping out at the sensitivity to the bright lights.
“Thankyou, baby, you’re doing so well for me,” that voice again, deep, soothing. This time it was accompanied by a tanned palm coming to rest over his eyes to block some of the light coming through. Oh, that was nice. He liked that. Almost without thinking, he nuzzled his face further into the hand that was gently cradling him.
“Oh for fucks sake, get him onto the bench so we can continue the game, he was barely hit. Fucking subs need to learn their place in this game,”
That voice hurt, but it was familiar. If he didn’t listen it would only hurt more. He needed to listen to that voice. He pushed through the disorientation to sit up, blinking rapidly as he took in the circle of people kneeling around him, an assortment of hockey gear piled at their feet. There were two different team jerseys, refs and what he assumed were coaches all staring at him.
“Regulus, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?” A guy sitting near his feet with shoulder length wavy black hair and piercing gray eyes stared at him, his hand gripping his ankle tightly. Not that he could feel it through the padding he was clearly wearing. It would have been nice if he could, though. His jersey was red with gold highlights, contrasting clearly against the green and silver on his own body.
“I’m…hockey. We’re at a stadium.”
“Well done, sweetheart.” Regulus tore his eyes away from the guy near his feet to meet the gaze of the person kneeling beside him. The stranger was also dressed in the red and gold uniform, with sweat damp curls pushed back on his forehead, tanned skin and the warmest brown eyes Regulus could remember seeing in his life (In his current predicament he couldn’t remember much at all though, to be fair)
“Can you remember what team you play for?”
He blinked, trying to make his brain process the question rather than get lost in the beautiful eyes staring intently at him. The eyes that made everything feel better. He knew that there was a lot he didn’t know at that moment that he should know, but those eyes were going to take care of everything and make it better. He was sure of it.
“Regulus?”
That was his own name, and oh it sounded so beautiful coming from this man’s plush lips. He was convinced that was the nicest his name had ever sounded, and he knew he wanted to listen to that voice for the rest of his life.
“Can you answer me, baby? What team do you play for?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.” Regulus felt tears well up in his eyes, at the failure to answer the question. It was such a simple question that he couldn’t even answer, he was a failure and was already disappointing –
His internal monologue was cut short as he was tugged firmly into a hug, his head tucked against the man's throat.
“Thankyou for trying, baby. I’m so proud of you. We’re going to get you help now, okay?”
Regulus let out a full body sigh, letting his weight fall into the warmth in front of him. As long as those arms stayed around him, everything would be fine. He caught snippets of conversation happening around him, nothing penetrating the fog he was in or making sense though.
“He’s clearly fucking dropping right now, he needs to get off the ice and into a dynamic room –”
“The serpents coach has been clear, he’s returning –”
“...bullshit! One his players is actively dropping under his watch on the fucking ice…league regulations –”
“Recently scened…they have records…their right to refuse treatment…”
“Sirius,” Finally, Regulus slowly became more aware of his surroundings as the man he was being held by all but growled the word out. “This isn’t helping him. We’ll finish the game.”
“Potter, don’t start on this bullshit right now –”
“Moony! Get Sirius back to the fucking bench.”
Colorful swearing signaled the departure of Sirius…his brother. His brother. Who played for the Gryffindor Lions. The Gryffindor Lions who were playing the Slytherin Serpents, Regulus’ own team. It was Saturday night, the roar of the crowd was palpable. His head was still resting on a strong shoulder, slightly damp under his cheek from a mixture of tears and sweat. Gryffindor Lions, based in Toronto, currently captained by James Potter.
Regulus pushed himself off from James’ chest, hating the hand that he gripped James’s jersey with to steady himself. He refused to look back in his eyes, knowing what he would see and hating how that would make him feel, how easily he would crumble under the weight.
He looked around the rest of the circle, glad that awareness was coming back to him enough that he recognised Evan and Barty also kneeling close by, concern etched into their face. His initial assessment was right, there was a ref kneeling by the group alongside Bellatrix, the team's head physician.
Her eyes were sharp as they dragged up and down his body, making him feel smaller than he ever had and hating what he knew was in store for him. She didn’t need words, merely eye contact to convey that he would get up and he would sit back on the bench otherwise he wouldn’t enjoy the punishment that would come from it.
He took a fortifying breath and turned to his best friend, “Rosie, get me back to the bench.”
Evan Rosier, for all he got teased for being the dumb blonde, was an intelligent guy and knew that this was the best course of action. Finish the game, get through the night, and with any luck, he would be released back to his own house when they returned from the road trip.
“Sure thing, Black.” With Barty’s help they managed to get him on his feet, taking everything in his being not to let himself fall back into the man that was silently shadowing him. James would have caught him, he always did.
Once Regulus was up, polite applause trickled around the arena, the group of refs and trainers gathered their supplies and made their way quickly off the ice. Regulus did not fail to notice the look Bellatrix shot him, and he knew Evan wasn’t oblivious either.
“Potter,” Evan mumbled under his breath, head facing down to avoid cameras under the guise of repositioning Regulus, “Skate back to your bench. Barty and I will watch him.”
A pained noise escaped James throat, Regulus knowing exactly what his face would look like without having to turn around. “Rosie, he’s so far down though, he can’t –”
“You don’t think we fucking know that?” Despite his harsh words, Barty gently nudged Regulus in the direction of the bench, Evan pulling him along gently yet firmly before he turned back to James and hissed something quietly enough that Regulus couldn’t hear it.
“You’re doing so well, Reggie, so well,” Evan murmured under his breath, “Just keep breathing for me darling, that’s it, good job.” He still felt light headed and confused, dazed and like he wasn’t quite in his body as they made their way to the players bench. With gentle hands, Evan adjusted Regulus into a comfortable seating position and pressed a cold bottle into his hands.
“Drink up, mon cheri, that’s it,” A Dom told him to drink, so he drank. He couldn’t say what he drank, but the Dom seemed pleased so he kept drinking. They stayed sitting beside each other on the bench, the Dom’s hand pressed firmly just above his knee. It was nice, he was liable to float away without the hand there.
He flinched when two players climbed into the box, closing in around Regulus. His breath came faster, and he felt himself leaning into the Dom's shoulder further. He couldn’t see past the players standing in front of him, geared up and clutching their sticks like weapons.
There was a commotion behind him that caused the Dom to tense.
“Rosier, get the fuck out there on the line.”
Regulus heard the way that the Dom was clearly speaking through gritted teeth, “No, I need to stay with Regulus.”
A heavy hand came down to rest on Regulus’ neck, causing the disorientation to increase and the buzzing in his ears to start up again. The person on his side moved away, leaving him feeling cold once more. His breath started coming in panicked bursts, his eyes clenching shut as the ice became overwhelming to look at again. He was alone. No one cared about him. The hand squeezed, a punishment for him being such a bad sub.
“Jesus, look at him. Kid wants to get on his knees so fucking badly right now, too bad he’s absolutely useless once he gets there.” Laughter rang out around him, Regulus powerless to stop it. He deserved everything they were saying. He was useless, he was a bad sub. Too needy, too whiny, but at the same time too bratty.
The hand on his neck fell away as arms pushed up under his arms to force him to his feet.
“Was goin’ on?” He slurred, all his senses being assaulted by the commotion around him.
“Shh, mon cheri. You’re in the stadium, we’ve just ended the second period. We’re going into the locker room. You’re doing well, the game is nearly over, not long now.”
Regulus turned his head slightly to see Evan was the one murmuring to him, worried eyes glancing his way every few steps. He wasn’t doing well, he knew that. Which meant it was probably time for his punishment, something that Evan didn’t usually partake in but, well, Regulus supposed he deserved this one and was resigned to his fate. The taste of salt in his mouth alerted him to the fact that there were tears on his face. Another way that he failed, that he humiliated himself in front of the world.
Entering the locker room, Regulus tried to go straight into the position that was expected of him, crying out in surprise when Evan continued to tug him into the room and towards his own locker.
“I–”
“Regulus, darling, kneel for me.” Evan’s voice was soft but firm, and Regulus was powerless to ignore the clear demand in it, sinking down shakily to assume the form that had been beaten into him over the years. A hand came to rest in his hair, carding through the strands and scratching his scalp. That was nice. He felt someone move to sit beside Evan, the presence soothing and protective.
“Oh fucking hell Rosie, tell him to come over here where he belongs. You’ve got your own bitch to put on his knees for you.”
Regulus whined and leaned further into Evan’s hand. He wanted to stay right where he was.
“You know the rules, Lestrange, intermission it’s one person only.” Evan’s voice was clear.
“You little shit, move the fuck –”
“Rolph, just take his sub instead. Reggie will be available to us all after the game like usual.”
Evan growled, instantly soothing Regulus with a gentle touch to his cheek even as he responded with a snarl, “If you fucking lay a hand on Barty I swear to fuck that I’ll –”
Barty’s voice came from beside Regulus, he must have been the warmth that Regulus could sense was sitting beside Evan. “Ev, it’s fine. We’re fine. It’s only 10 minutes. Just look after him,” and Regulus heard him move across the room to jeers and laughter. He doesn’t remember much after that.
There’s flashes of hands on him, pushing him down a narrow corridor, his legs shaky on the skates he’s wearing. Why is he wearing skates?
A hissed, “Snap out of your shit, Black. You’ve caused enough damage for a night.”
Being pushed to sit on a hard seat, bright lights and loud noises surrounding him. More hands, yanking him up and not too gently coaxing him onto what he realizes is ice, feet shaking where he tried to keep his balance.
Warm chocolate brown eyes, staring at him from across the circle.
More numbing coldness, as he end’s up on the ground again.
“-- how can you let him on the ice –”
“...Winners Room..”
Barty, dragging him to the bench where they sit. A heavy hand on his neck. A promise of punishment.
Gatorade, coaxed down his throat.
Until, finally, a horn that is as painful and jarring as it is welcoming, signaling the end. Or the beginning. Regulus doesn’t know anymore. Instead of being ushered onto the ice to shake hands, Regulus is pushed quickly back down the tunnel, hands ripping the bulkiest of his gear off and then forcing him into position in the center of the room.
Sirius was fuming. Absolutely enraged, shaking with anger. He was aware of the team giving him a wide berth, side eyeing each other as they skirted around him. Only Remus and James remained unphased, flanking him on either side down the tunnel and as he sat down at his locker.
“Sirius. You need to kneel.” James' words were quiet but firm.
Sirius glared up at him. “Don’t pull your Dom shit on me, Prongs. It’s your fault my brother was fucking forced to sit there while actively in subdrop –”
“Sirius,” Remus cut in, his hand heavy on his Sub’s shoulder, “You know it’s not James’ fault. I know you do. There was nothing anyone could have done, other than give the Serpent's more ammunition. You know that.”
Eyes rolling, Sirius leaned down to start aggressively pulling his skates off, one shoe at a time. “Doesn’t change the fact that he, we, did nothing. That’s fucking abuse on live television, and we went about pushing a little puck around. What the fuck,” he was breathing heavily, his anger palpable in the room.
“You did your job, Sirius. It’s all any of us can do until the season is done.”
“That’s bullshit! He looked terrible, how am I meant to sleep knowing he’s in the same city –” he trailed off, his breathing becoming uneven as he started hyperventilating.
Remus knelt down in front of him, tugging Sirius hand gently to press over his chest so that they could match their breathing. “I hear what you’re saying Sirius, we know how you feel. But we have to be smart about this, okay, we have to.”
“He’s in drop though Rem, you know they’re not going to help him tonight, and that can cause serious damage if untreated –”
James ran a hand through his hair, “Evan was there, he will help him.” His voice lacked the usual confidence that his words usually carried.
“Yeah, like he helped him during the last period I’m sure.” Sirius responded sarcastically. “Fuck!”
The jersey got caught as he tried to pull it off, adding to his mounting frustration and anger at the situation. Tears pricked at his eyes, threatening to fall and make everything more humiliating. He wanted – no, he needed to see his brother. To talk to him, to convince him that it was safe to leave, that he needed to leave for his own safety. The Serpents had a reputation, it was an open secret within the league of how they treated their subs and yet they remained untouched year in and year out due to the power that Tom Riddle held within the NHL.
Gentle hands untangled the jersey from around his head and pulled it off, Sirius raising his eyes to meet those of his Dom as he cupped his cheek. The tears fell.
“Rem, I just wish we could have him for a night. Get him away from them, get him out of drop so he has a fighting chance. There’s one game left, only one.” By now the fight was draining from his body, the exhaustion settling in. James was right, he did need to kneel, the sooner the better.
His Dom must have seen the realization in his face because he stepped away slightly to pull off his own gear quickly but efficiently, returning to Sirius’ side only a moment later.
James had paused, a look of thoughtfulness on his face as he looked down at Sirius. “What did Evan mean, when he said the Winner’s Room?”
“What? What are you talking about, I don’t –”
“Fuck me,” Remus interjected, almost breathless, “he’s right.” Sirius' neck snapped around to look at his Dom, who was staring at James in shock.
“Right about what? What’s going on?”
James pushed out a breath, eyes flickering quickly between Remus and Sirius. “I got best on ice, right? If the old rules are still in place, that means I get a Sub of my choice for two hours. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is,” Remus sounded shocked, his hand almost mindlessly carding through Sirius’ hair. “You need to get Dorcas here right now so that she can get him.”
“Why Dorcas?”
“Opposing team coordinator. She can go into their locker room and request him. Actually, never mind, you get in the showers I’ll get Dorcas.” It was no more than a heartbeat before James was flying towards the showers, a trail of gear left in his wake.
His Dom carefully laced their hands together, tugging Sirius up and towards the locker room doors.
“My love, come with me for a moment. We’ll get Dorcas, and then we can hit the showers and go to the dynamics room.”
Sirius was still reeling from whatever had happened in the past thirty seconds, but nevertheless followed Remus out the door and into the corridor where people were missing around with headsets and clipboards, everyone looking purposeful and tapping away on phones. They walked quickly over to Dorcas, the teams’ opponent coordinator who was speaking on the phone. Upon realizing they were approaching her, she pursed her lips and quickly ended the call.
“You know I cannot physically go and steal him from the opposing team’s locker room, right?” She was sympathetic to everything that had happened, but already ran ragged at trying to meet the demanding needs of the team in the other locker room.
Sirius blinked as Remus simply smirked, his arm moving to wrap around Sirius’ waist and pulling him against his body. “Actually, you can. James Potter, best on ice, has requested to make use of the Winner’s Room tonight.”
The entire hallway went silent at that declaration. The Lions, overall, were a good organization. The club president was a bit of a whackjob, prioritizing winning over almost anything else, but everyone working in the organization worked hard to make it one of the most reputable teams in the league. Everything that would come crashing down in almost an instant once the news of this broke.
“You…cannot be serious.”
“Actually, I’m –” multiple voices yelling don’t prevent Sirius from finishing that thought.
With a roll of her eyes, Dorcas merely continued on. “The Lions don’t use the Winner’s Room. You know, most teams don’t use that anymore. You would be causing a lot of issues for a lot of people by doing this.”
“I won’t be,” Remus responded casually, a glint in his eyes betraying how he really felt, “this is all James. The league’s golden child. It’s within his rights, and he wants Regulus Black.”
The elder Black watched curiously as a range of emotions flickered across Dorcas’ face, from disbelief, to anger, to understanding and pity, before settling on resignation.
“Has Dumbledore been informed?”
A ripple of anger reignited in Sirius at the mention of the president, who had been well aware of Regulus’ treatment for years and had avoided trying to trade for him despite multiple requests from the majority of the team. Remus clearly mirrored this, because his eyes narrowed at Dorcas.
“This has nothing to do with Dumbledore. This is between the Best on Ice, and the Sub of his choosing.”
“Alright,” Dorcas said after a moment, nodding her head slowly. “Tell James we’ll meet him there. If he gets caught anywhere near that fucking door by media or a single mobile phone though, tell him that I will personally ensure that he gets tapped for media every game for the rest of his bloody career.”
She’s already started striding away though, tapping away at her phone and talking into the headset.
Kneeling in the centre of the locker room, Regulus knows what comes next.
Until it doesn’t come.
The change of routine leaves him reeling more than almost anything else throughout the game. There’s a shift in the locker room, a tension that’s building throughout and causes Regulus to blink his eyes open to see someone standing near the door with a Griffyndor jacket and headset on.
“...Potter, voted best on ice, has chosen to enact his right to the Winner’s Room, and requires the company of Regulus Black.”
Silence.
Regulus’ brain is scrambling to give meaning to that term, familiar yet not. It’s not commonly used these days, not in modern day hockey. It’s a relic from the past, from a time when subs kneeling in the locker room was the standard, not the exception that was frowned upon. A time when a Dom being recognised as the best on the ice gave them the right to two hours with a Submissive of his choosing in the so called Winner’s Room. And when a Sub was recognised as best on ice – well, no, he wasn’t.
Technically, it wasn’t written out of the rules just pushed aside in the name of progress and making the sport a healthier place for all dynamics.
So while shocking, it was allowed.
Swearing echoed around the room, the team that had previously been gathered around him moving dejectedly to the shower area instead. Regulus started as hands landed on him from behind, and he heard Evan’s reassuring voice in his ear.
“Regulus, mon cheri, let’s go. James will help you. Barty and I will walk you to the room.” Regulus felt a sweatshirt being pushed over his naked torso, interrupted by the Griffyndor representative clearing their throat.
“Rules dictate he must come as he is.”
“Potter wouldn’t want him walking across the arena in nothing but his compression shorts,” Evan shot back angrily. The representative shrugged. “I’m sorry, rules are rules. James decided to enact them, so he has to follow protocol now.”
“Ev, relax. It’s fine,” Barty soothed from his other side, the group moving out of the locker room and following a series of twist and turns deep into the bowels of the stadium. Regulus was shivering, his teeth chattering as the cold seemed to grow closer the further they walked. He was aware of Evan murmuring things to him, but the buzzing in his ears had returned to the point that he couldn’t understand what he was saying.
The lights around him were blurring, steps were becoming harder and he fell into Evan’s side when he moved his head too fast and became dizzy.
“Fuck, Reggie come on, we’re so close now.” They arrived at a nondescript closed white door where the Gryffindor’s dynamic coach was waiting with her arms crossed, eyeing the group as they approached.
There was a pause. “Is he in subdrop? He can’t go in there if he is, and we’ll return him to his registered team dominant.”
“No!” Barty blurted out, almost hysterically. “He’s not! He’s fine!”
The pause was louder this time.
Regulus felt Evan take a deep breath, shuffling him so that he was standing properly again with a strong arm around his waist. “You know that subdrop is considered mandatory reporting during games, so if he was then the Serpants would have had to disclose it. If you check the records, you’ll find there has been nothing reported. Is this the room?”
“But he’s…”
“Is this the room?” Evan repeated firmly, a hint of dom in his tone that had Regulus trying to straighten his back.
At the question though the door was opened from the inside, revealing James Potter in black sweats and a red Lions jumper, brown eyes wide behind his glasses. “Thank you, Dorcas, I owe you one.”
Regulus glanced up at the voice, and it was like the rest of the world shrank away. The buzzing stopped, his vision cleared and his breathing slowed down, his eyes locked to the man in front of him.
“Regulus, baby, come here.” Regulus let himself be tugged into a hug, only vaguely aware of the door closing behind him, a harshly whispered conversation fading away in an instant. He let himself relax into the hug, matching his breathing with the man wrapped around him. It was like the tension was leaking from his body, mind clearing for the first time in what felt like months.
“Will you kneel for me, cariño? You’ve done so well, I’m so proud of you.”
Regulus sank to his knees, fluidly, this time, his thoughts floating away peacefully like the waves in the ocean.
Barty knew the problem was bigger than they had realised when the other team's dynamics coach whirled around to glare daggers at him and Evan.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
Barty let himself be pulled more firmly into Evans' side, resting his head back against his Dom’s shoulder.
“We’ve helped a friend get what he needs.”
“What he needs,” the trainer hisses out, “Is to be permanently removed from the Serpents. You’re one game away from being eliminated from the playoffs, when he becomes a free agent and can negotiate a new contract with his current free bill of health.”
The point the trainer is trying to make is lost to Evan and Barty, “Yeah, no fucking shit. We want that for him as well.”
The trainer let out a groan of frustration before glance up and down the corridor to ensure it was empty. An intern with a media badge on came rushing down the hallway, seemingly searching for something else as she continued on past them without blinking.
Evan and Barty were herded into a spare dynamics room with the representative that came to collect Regulus, followed moments later by a trainer who had a death grip around both Black and Lupin’s wrists. The door was closed and locked firmly behind him.
“Have any of you paused to think for two seconds tonight?”
To an outsider, it would have been amusing to watch the near identical growls of frustration let out by Barty and Sirius, quickly followed by their respective Dom’s holding them back and employing textbook soothing techniques on them.
The trainer continued, “I’m going to assume not. Because Regulus Black, who I think we all know was fully in Subdrop, has just been locked in the Winners Room with James Potter.”
Sirius crossed his arms, glaring as he responded, “James is the best person to help him right now, Dora. We all know that. Reggie needs help.”
Various noises of assent came from around the room. Barty felt his anger growing at the trainer who was clearly still furious. “I know we’re the opposition, but is it that hard to believe that we want the best for Reggie? As a dynamics coach, you should too!”
“I do! Of course I fucking do, we’ve been trying to come up with a plan to get Regulus for years. Do you know, though, what would put a major fucking dent in that plan?”
Barty felt his stomach drop, the tension mounting in the room. The Dynamics coach – Dora, if Black was correct, glared directly at him. “If Regulus Black, who by the Serpents omission is not reported to have subdrop, emerges from the fucking Winner’s Room where he spent two hours with James Potter, in subdrop.”
The horror is clear on everyone’s faces, the room so silent you could hear a pindrop.
Regulus’ subdrop was severe, to put it mildly. Barty knew that Regulus had been in and out of subdrop for the past year, helped at times by Evan who could put off the worst symptoms and help him to function, and made significantly worse by every other Dom in the serpents organization. That kind of prolonged sickness without a consistent Dom would not be cured in a two hour session, no matter how magical James Potter was.
Across the room, Remus looked like he had been punched. “Pans, you can’t be saying…”
Pandora turned to look directly at Evan. “Rosie, would or would not Tom Riddle use this exact situation to his advantage to keep Regulus on the Serpent’s roster?”
For once, Barty’s Dom was speechless. That didn’t happen very often, always reassuring and planning ahead for all scenarios, protecting Barty and Regulus the best that he could. Barty felt untethered and off balance at the look of helplessness on Evan’s face.
The reason was clear: that was exactly what Riddle would do. Dynamic drops were taken extremely seriously by the league after a number of incidents early in the NHL. A bonded Dom/sub on separate teams both went into drop on the ice during their team faceoffs, ended up in a month-long coma and were never heard from in the NHL community again.
From that moment, all teams had been required to hire a dynamics coach who specifically looked out for the dynamic aspect of the players. They recorded when players had last scened and with who, conducted regular interviews with all players and were usually around locker rooms to monitor for any signs of dynamic abuse in the teams.
If Regulus emerged with Subdrop, Potter would be kicked from the league immediately. He wouldn’t play ice hockey in America again. Given how serious Europeans were about subdrop, it was likely he wouldn’t play in any league again, and depending on the severity of Regulus’ levels he could face prison time.
Regulus, would likely have his name dragged through the mud as being a difficult sub to manage, his records fabricated to show that he had lied about scening and making him supremely unattractive to be traded to other teams. He would be forced to sign to the Serpents again, and would face another year of outright dynamic based abuse at the hands of the team.
“But you know he was before he went in, you can testify to that! And you know he’s being mistreated, Rosie and I can attest to that!”
Pandora looked pained at that. “Barty, if we retaliate Riddle’s claims with mistreatment, it’s going to launch a large-scale investigation into all dynamic interactions with the Serpents.”
“That’s what we fucking should be doing anyway!”
It was Evan who spoke from behind Barty, his voice hoarse, “They'll look into our, into my interactions with him too. Mine may be the only ones officially recorded, even, which will just push me out of the league and leave the two of you alone.”
Barty felt desperation clawing at his ribcage, “But, there’s cameras in hotels, in some team areas, on the fucking bench. They had to have caught evidence over the years.” he looked around the room helplessly.
The dynamics coach looked pained, but she shook her head. “We’ve been looking. For months now, combing through everything we can find, and there’s not much. We’ve seen Regulus kneel for Evan a number of times, we’ve seen Regulus go into hotel rooms assigned to Malfoy and Lestrange but we also see them leave and Evan enter and then leave. I know you’re helping him, god knows how he would be if you hadn't been, but they’ve also been allowing it to set you up to take the fall in case something like this ever came up.”
That fucking silence again. Hockey players were not meant to exist in silence.
“What can we do?” Barty’s voice was a near whisper.
“Hope that James Potter is as magical as everyone says he is.”