cold feet

As Lily hears the bell on the door of the pro shop begin to ring, she has to stifle a groan and take a moment to mourn the early closure she’d hoped for. So much for being out of here at 5… But immediately, she shoves the mop she’s been holding back into the bucket and turns to face the front. “Hi, wel–” she begins in as high pitched of a voice as she can manage before she sees who it is. Then she stops herself.

At the front of the store stands James Potter, leaning against the door frame and grinning like an absolute idiot. And though Lily attempts to shake her head at him, she can’t deny the smile that’s forming on her face as well. “Hey!” she exclaims, setting the mop bucket to her side and dashing over to meet him. “Heard you had quite the game yesterday.”

James just shrugs, though his face doesn’t falter. “It was just one goal,” he says, and Lily nearly scoffs.

“Woah, modest now are we?” she asks. Really, she doesn’t ever think she’s heard those words from him ever. She suspects it has something to do with his new appointment of team captain, though she doesn’t think on it further. What’s more important to her currently is the incredibly apparent lack of skates in his hand.

“You know it,” James says, raising one hand up into the air. Lily could roll her eyes. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty okay,” Lily nods. “Though we have this one annoying customer that just walked in last minute, won’t let me close up early.”

James’s expression immediately changes, his eyes feigning shock. “Is that so?” he asks, crossing his arms. “Who ever would do that?”

“No clue,” Lily teases as she backs away from the front door, sarcasm dripping in her tone. The second she’s sure James is following, she lowers her voice, deciding to cut right to the chase. “James, I know you didn’t come in here today to get your skates sharpened. What’s going on?”

His face falls, and she watches as his arms wrap around himself even tighter than before. “It was that obvious?”

“Duh. It hasn’t been three months yet,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder and smacking it lightly. She decides to ignore the tiny “Hey!” that comes out of his mouth, the corners of her own turning ever so slightly. Then she gestures for him to walk with her as she makes her way back to the mop bucket, deciding that James won’t mind if she multitasks a little. “Now, what’s up?”

The first thing James offers her is a sigh. The second thing he offers is the slight notch of hesitation in his tone as he speaks, his rhythm of speech slower than she is used to. “..I don’t know,” he says. Really? Lily thinks to herself, grabbing the mop and resuming her cleaning of the floors. She doesn’t speak; she assumes that James is going to have more to say than just that, like he always does. If there’s one characteristic of his she can always count on, it’s his ability to run his mouth like his life depends on it.

But a minute passes, and the only sound that accompanies her is the sloshing of the water as she pulls and pushes the mop back and forth, the ground beneath them becoming shinier. “You don’t know?” she repeats at last, once she’s concluded that he is not going to follow up. “What are we talking about, then?”

“I–” James starts, cutting himself off before he can give Lily anything of good insight. He         probably clears his throat for a good five seconds, which doesn’t make her any less skeptical. “I mean, I do know. It’s just weird.”

“Weird how?” she asks with the raise of an eyebrow. “You’re not giving me a lot to work with here.”

The words come out so sudden and jumbled that Lily nearly misses them. “Remember what we talked about last time I was here?”

Instantly, everything clicks into place. Oh. 

“Shit,” Lily replies in spite of herself. Now she knows why James didn’t just go to Sirius about this, like she’d assumed he would’ve done. “Did Regulus somehow get worse?” And she braces herself for what ridiculous thing she might hear.

Though she thinks that she’s prepared for any wild story that James is about to throw at her, what he actually says is something she never could have envisioned. “No.”

She stops mopping completely, instead throwing the mop back into the bucket and turning to face James. She doesn’t think her facial expression is as neutral as she’d like it to be. “No?” she asks. “What happened?”

James shakes his head, like he’s trying to figure out how to phrase it. Lily thinks he knows perfectly well what he’s about to say and wills him to just spit it out. “He was at the game yesterday.”

“You’re kidding!” Lily exclaims. She doesn’t bother to hide her shock this time as her mouth falls open. “What the hell was he doing there?”

Running through her mind right now are so many memories she can’t even place a date on. She’s skated at this rink since she was six years old, and with those years come several prominent memories of Regulus Black. His quiet demeanor has meant that when he is loud enough for Lily to hear, she remembers. Which means that all of his snide little comments about how stupid of a sport hockey is, about how it’s a disgrace to the ice, about how rude and obnoxious the players are, have stuck with her. Attempting to envision him at a hockey game, to her, is like envisioning a fish trying to fly.

But James seems just as perplexed as her. “Couldn’t tell you,” he replies. “I don’t think he knew either.”

“That makes three of us,” she responds, which gets a small huff out of James. “He was there the whole time?”

“No, no,” James says, shaking his head. “God no. He left almost right after I scored. Didn’t get the chance to talk to him, or anything.”

“But you saw him,” Lily replies, to which James slowly nods. “And he saw you.”

“Yup,” James confirms, his tone nearly flat. It’s silent for a moment, and Lily isn’t sure what to say next. She’s thankful when James speaks again. “But there was this look on his face, Lily. Like for once, he didn’t totally hate me.”

Lily prepares herself to respond, about to ask him if that’s a good or bad thing, when James interrupts her by groaning. “That sounded so stupid,” he says, wrinkling his nose at himself.

She’s quick to shake her head, quick to reassure him. “It didn’t,” she replies. “Being hated is an awful feeling.” It sounds stupid when she says it, but what else can she say? She’s aware firsthand how the pettiness of other figure skaters can hurt, aware of just how deeply it can cut. “You think you’re gonna say anything on Tuesday?”

James’s response is the most confident one he’s given yet. “Not unless he says something first.”

Lily wants to slap him. “You really think that’s gonna happen?” she questions. She’s seen how Sirius is when it comes to tackling fragile subjects, and if Regulus is anything like his brother, what’s transpired between him and James will stay silent forever if it’s up to him. James has to address it head on, or they will never speak of it again. She forces herself to take a deep breath before following up, attempting to be as concise as possible. “Look. You’re tired of Regulus hating you, right?”

“..Yeah.”

“And you just said it seemed like he might not hate you?”

“I don’t know?”

“How are you going to know unless you say something?” Lily asks, just about ready to whack him with the mop handle. James opens his mouth, and she already has a feeling that the words out of his mouth are about to be ones of protest. “James.”

“Okay, okay!” he exclaims, tossing both of his hands backwards. “It’s just. He’s kind of terrifying, you know–”

“You are twice his size.”

“But–”

“Nope,” Lily insists, gritting her teeth together. “Talk to him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

He doesn’t speak at all for a moment, but the way in which his face changes tells Lily everything she needs to know. And a few moments later, he glances back up at her, swallowing hard. “I’ll try.”

“You will,” she says, making her complete confidence in him known. Most of the time, James loves to talk, and it’s seemingly all he does; she doesn’t believe for a second that he won’t do it when it actually matters. If he can captain a hockey team, one of the best in the state, then he can do this as well.

Now that this is settled, she glances up at the clock that hangs over the front door in an attempt to read the time: 4:48. “I’ve gotta close up in here,” she tells him, which is basically her polite way of saying "Get the hell out so I can mop the floors”. “You doing anything after this?”

James shakes his head. “Not a thing.”

“Wanna go get donuts?” she asks. Outside of pestering James about Regulus, they haven’t had a proper chance to catch up in a while. And she feels bad for constantly torturing him over this. She considers it her way of making it up to him. Besides, the donuts from Hagrid’s shop never fail to be incredible.

“If it involves you then ye—”

“Not happening.”

And for the first time since James has entered the shop, they both laugh. She didn’t realize just how unnatural it was not to hear that sound from him until now. She’s grateful to hear it.

“Alright,” she says after a moment, nodding. “See you in a few?”

James is already leaving, offering her one last wave as he does so. “I’ll be waiting, Evans!” he calls out, his cheery tone returning just for a moment. Then the bell above the door rings, and he’s gone.

The air is still tense as she attempts to remember what else she has to do before leaving. But admittedly, she finds that she is drawing a blank. Her concern has taken over her. James is many things–an absolute mess is not one of them. Sure, he’s an idiot, and sometimes he is all over the place. But for him to stumble over his words like that, for him to be so unsure of himself, to resolve himself to silence? It’s all so uncharacteristic, so wrong. She couldn’t hate it more.

And she’s worried for her friend.

As she picks up the mop yet again, she seriously questions what Regulus Black is doing to this boy. And she prays that he will fix it.

❅ ❅ ❅

When Regulus enters the rink on Tuesday, he doesn’t think he’s ever been more uneasy in his life. 

Never before has he felt so timid, so tense, as he’s walked into this rink. Not even the horror of competing compares to what he anticipates happening today. At least when he’s competing, he knows exactly what he is going to do, he has practiced for months and months on end to ensure as little error as possible. He’s done everything in his power, everything is within his control, and so now most of the work is up to how he scores. Which isn’t up to him. 

Today is different. Today, when he walks into Rink A, James is going to bring up what happened on Saturday. He’s going to want an explanation. And Regulus won’t be able to offer him one.

He can’t even admit to himself why he did it. For days, he’s been racking his brain, attempting to figure out what he’d been thinking, and he comes up short handed. He could blame it on a moment of temporary weakness, say he was simply just that bored, but it wouldn’t be true. At the end of the day, he made the decision to stay. And the decision to run off afterwards.

Worst of all, he made the decision to let James know he was there. To know that he’d just seen everything that had gone down, that he’d been watching. He could’ve walked away before it had happened. Before James caught sight of him. But he didn’t.

For the past two nights now, that choice has haunted him. Yet it doesn’t haunt him as much as the thought that if he was given a second chance right now, a do-over at the moment, he’s not entirely sure that he’d do it differently.

Regulus wants to smack himself at the very suggestion of that, despising the implications. Why wouldn’t he want to do it differently? He’s spent six years of his life hating James, six years telling himself that his life would have been so much better if James had never stepped into it. Nothing’s changed, and Regulus doesn’t intend on it changing. Yet suddenly, his mind is betraying him.Could it really all be because of the stupid bandage?

It can’t be. Regulus refuses to let that be the case. That is just who James is, and if Regulus lets himself get caught up in his kindness after years of detesting him for it he will never forgive himself.  

Still, none of his warring thoughts or conflicting feelings on it can change the events of Saturday; they happened. Regulus made them happen. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of it now. What’s more important, at the moment, is what he does next.

And if he could just figure out what that is going to be, he’d be all set.

Yet as Regulus takes a hold of the icy handle to Rink A, he is still admittedly drawing a blank. And for the first time in his life, he might not know how to handle the persistent, ever-annoying problem that is James Potter.

The words will come to him in the moment. They have to. Regulus is sure of it.

He takes in a deep breath as he sits down on one of the benches that line the boards, and tries not to think about how this bench is the same one where this entire problem began. The one where James offered him a bandage, and Regulus didn’t turn him down. The one where Regulus is going to put an end to all of this. And then he begins to lace up his skates.

He doesn’t get very far before he feels the bench rattle and creak, and sees the bag that is dropped by his feet. 

Immediately, every single possibility swirling around his brain, every single option of what he could say, seems to disappear. All he can do is look up and glance over at the boy next to him, whose face is as unreadable as his own.

”Hey, Reg.”

”James,” he says, not even having it in himself to feel anger over the nickname. He’s tried once; what good is trying again going to do?

”How’s it going?” His words are short and curt, and Regulus is all but waiting for when he will inevitably address it.

But for now, Regulus will attempt to hold him off. “I’m fine. You?”

”Good, thanks.” They look away from each other at the same time, Regulus deciding that the uneven rubber mats that line the floor are far more interesting. Neither speak.

James is the first to shatter the silence, and Regulus feels the air between them shift as James turns his head. He refuses to meet him halfway, still staring right ahead. “So, let me see if I’ve got this right. I’m not allowed to watch you skate, but apparently it’s all fine if you watch me?”

Regulus can’t look away any longer. “I was just looking,” he gets out, shifting his entire body so that he’s facing him. “I wasn’t even in there five minutes!”

“Does it matter?” James asks, and before Regulus can retort that it absolutely does matter he is speaking again. “I was just wondering what was up with that.”

Regulus can already feel the color coming to his cheeks, and whether it’s from humiliation or irritation he cannot tell. “Okay. You tell me first, then.”

James is very obviously not expecting the deflection, because he suddenly shuts his mouth and averts his eyes. “I told you a month ago,” he finally says, “I saw you go out there and wanted to watch. What’s your excuse?”

”Okay, same for me. I saw the game going on and decided I’d watch. Now we’re even.” 

“Even?!” James quotes back, his eyes finally meeting Regulus’s as he laughs. “So it was about settling a score? Getting back at me, or something?”

”No!” Regulus insists, and Jesus, this could not be going worse for him. “I didn’t even realize it was your team playing.”

”Which is why you didn’t stop staring at me after I scored?”

Shit.

Regulus doesn’t have a response to that. The most he can bring himself to do is look away, praying that the zamboni finishes cutting the ice soon so that he can skate away from this and pretend it never happened.

After what seems like an eternity of silence amongst a loud and bustling rink, James is the first to speak again. “Look,” James begins. “I have nothing against you. I never have. I don’t mind that you were there. Really.”

Regulus waits for the catch, knowing that whatever response he provides will be nothing short of inadequate. Knowing that all he is going to do is further embarrass himself. His laces are still nearly entirely undone, so Regulus decides to focus on that instead.

”I just,” James continues after a moment, “I don’t understand. When I watched you, it was the end of the world. Why’s it different now?”

Yet again, he finds himself without an answer. He’s been expecting this question for the past three days, and he still hasn’t been able to come up with anything. 

As he finishes tying up his left skate, he attempts to form a reply. “I didn’t even mean to be in there,” he mumbles—already off to a rough start. “It just happened. I don’t know what I was doing.”

“You don’t?” James questions. Regulus shakes his head, not once looking up from his skates. “Then why didn’t you leave?”

He’s not stupid. He’s aware of what James is really asking; he wants to know why Regulus refused to look away. Why did you keep looking. Why did you want me to know you were there.

He doesn’t think until he’s saying the words. “I thought about it.”

”But you didn’t.”

“Obviously,” Regulus retorts, nearly scoffing. He’s just pointing out the obvious now. “I don’t know what you want from me. I saw the game going on, and I decided to stay.”

”You decided to stay?” James repeats from next to him, and Regulus can hear the disbelief that taints his voice.

He won’t let this go. Not until Regulus provides him with an actual answer, with something that’s acceptable and not just an excuse. As much as he’d like to ignore him, would like to pretend like nothing is different at all, Regulus can’t simply dance his way around this forever. He made his choice, just like James made his. Now it’s his turn to say why.

He finishes lacing up his right skate and sits up, and he doesn’t dare look at James as he answers.

”….I wanted to stay.”

He says the words as calmly as he can, as collected as his nerves will allow him to be. Beside him, James becomes perfectly still.

If Regulus had to guess, James probably is questioning whether or not he just heard him right. Quieter now, he repeats himself.

”I wanted to stay.”

He lets that statement hang in the air, and this time, James does nothing to dispute it. And Regulus knows that is it—at last, he has given him enough.

I wanted to stay.

By now, the hum of the zamboni has grown faint in the distance. Regulus takes that as his cue to leave. Before he can second guess what he’s just said, before he can come to regret it. 

”I’ll see you out there,” he says to James, and at last, he glances over at him.

James still hasn’t moved, and honest to God, he hasn’t even started lacing up his skates yet. But that isn’t the part that worries Regulus. What worries him more is the expression on his face, the way his lips are pursed together and the way his eyes give nothing away. For the first time, Regulus is completely unable to read him. Completely unable to guess what is going through his head. He has no idea if that is for the worse or better.

It doesn’t matter now, nor will it matter for the next 30 minutes. Regulus has already spoken, and he can’t dare to overthink it now. He thinks it would be disastrous if he did.

Not daring to linger back a moment too long, Regulus at last stands up and begins his trip to the ice. And though he can’t see it, he already knows that James’s eyes stay on him the entire way there.