The Beginning
Regulus Black would love to say that lying face down on the floor, groaning into the sand, was a rare occurrence. But as of late, Regulus is sad to say that it would be a big fat lie.
It doesn’t help matters that when he finally does roll over in his haste to get up, James Potter’s cheeky grin is staring straight back down at him. Regulus puts his hands over his eyes. He decides he doesn’t need to be scarred by James’ annoying face as well as having a bruised ego.
‘Need a hand there, Reggie?’
Regulus simply glares at him, jumps to his feet, and brushed off his legs.
‘Cant say I do, Potter, but your right hand turns I saw in that last round certainly do.’
Regulus raised an eyebrow. Potter may seem to be nice, but Regulus knew this was all part of his plan to psych out the competition… even though Regulus had just been bucked off face down into the sand... and had been eliminated on the spot for the said faceplant. Huh, maybe Regulus did look like he needed pity. That didn’t mean he liked it. He decided not to think too hard about it, and instead concentrate on Potter’s annoyingly smug smirk.
Potter began to stride off to the exit of the arena, his infuriatingly long legs making it difficult for Regulus to keep up. A volunteer had caught the big chestnut gelding that had oh-so-kindly dumped him on the floor and handed the reins over to his mother, who was currently glaring daggers at him and muttering under her breath. All lovely things I’m sure, Regulus thought.
‘Ah, Reggie-bear. Love of my life. Spark in my heart. Angel in front of my eyes. I thought the same thing, those turns were a little bit on the rough side, but at least I stayed on to the end of the round.’ Potter wiggled his eyebrows. Regulus wished for the sweet release of death. ‘Though I’ve got to admit it, that probably one of the best falls I’ve seen this season - kudos for that, I guess- sorry, Reg?’
‘I said it was an unplanned dismount,’ Regulus muttered. ‘And my name is Regulus, Potter, not Reg, or Reggie or anything else. Regulus, got it?’
James barked out a laugh. ‘Sure, Reggie, whatever you say. I’ll see you in the next round, if you can stick it, yeah? Give your wonderful mother a kiss on the cheek for me, will you?’ and with that, Potter was striding off into the distance, and much to Regulus’ disappointment, Potter had walked him straight over to his mother without even realising it. Regulus took a deep breath. Time to face the music, he thought.
Walburga Black looked remarkably similar to a volcano on the verge of eruption. A familiar sight to Regulus, of course, but an undeniably ugly one all the same. ‘What on God’s green earth was that, Regulus?’ she said in a steely tone.
Regulus gritted his teeth. ‘I lost control going round the corner, mother. It was a genuine mistake.’
Walburga tossed the chestnut’s reins at his face. The horse snorted in surprise, nervously moving on the spot.
‘Well, with an attitude like that, you’d better sort it out. There is no room for mistakes like that Regulus, especially not now. Toujours Pur, Regulus! Your next round is in ten minutes. I want you back in the warm up in the next fifteen second or I swear on your life there will be consequences.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Regulus scuffed the toe of his boot into the ground, refusing to meet her eye. He wasn’t usually one to back down, but in the face of his mother, his courage turned to stone.
‘Don’t ruin your boots!’ She snapped.
‘Yes, Mother.’
Regulus turned on his heel back toward the warm up ring, murmuring soothing words to the flighty chestnut beside him. His mother’s terrifying glare didn’t just affect humans, it tended to unsettle horses too.
His stroke of bad luck had knocked him off his feet two weeks before on a chilly morning in the beginning of the November. He’d just jumped one of the best round of his life in record timing, blowing all of the competition - including Potter - out of the water. He’d walked his horse out of the arena with a small grin on his face feeling like he was floating on air. The prize giving would be soon, and although Regulus tried to be a good sport, he couldn’t avoid the giddy rush of adrenaline that came with winning a competition. Shoot me, he’d thought, the Black’s are nothing if not competitive. Regulus hopped off his horse and began to walk back to the lorry, and with Remus nowhere in sight, he tied the ginger horse to the side of the lorry and set about finding a sponge to purge the sweat.
And then, his bad luck began. He opened the back door to rummage through his bag, only to find that the sponge was nowhere in sight. His eyes scanned over the compartment, only to be met with frustration - the sponge was gone. He slammed the door shut only to find long dark hair, pale skin and piercing blue eyes that matched his own staring back at him. Sirius fucking Black. After his sponge fiasco, Regulus summoned immeasurable self restraint to not smack his brother across his arrogant face. A sponge thief, if he’d ever seen one. Sirius opened his mouth to speak while Regulus promptly slammed the door and stalked off.
‘Reg, wait-‘
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Ok, fine, but can you just wait a secon-‘
Regulus spun on his heel so that he was face to face with his brother. Sirius still had an infuriating inch of height on him.
‘What do you want, Sirius.’ he narrowed his eyes
‘I just want to talk, ok? I haven’t seen you in so long and I wanted to ask how she’s treating you-‘
‘Sirius. You know I’m banned from speaking to you, if she sees us you’ll only get me into trouble. Why are you here?’
‘I’m James’ groom for the day,’ Sirius huffed impatiently, ‘Spit out Reg, please, just tell me that your going to be ok.’
‘I’m fine, Sirius, but please, I have to go, if she catches me-‘
‘I know, Reg,’ Sirius said softly, ‘Go.’
Regulus did not smile as he stalked off. Talking to Sirius always made him paranoid.
After arriving back at his lorry, he checked his watch to see it was ten minutes before the prize giving, and decided to check on the chestnut gelding. After the horse had snuffled a few treats out his pockets, Regulus decided that the next best course of action would be to find his groom, Remus, and head down to the ring. He searched in the drivers seat, all the compartments, even underneath the lorry to see if Remus was hiding there. Grumbling under his breath, the next place to search was blindingly obvious. The hotdog van down by the main arena. Regulus stomped down the track muttering about his missing sponge, his irritating brother and most of all his god-awful mother. He tried to hold onto that feeling from his jumping round earlier, but the closer he got to the arena, and in turn, his mother, he could feel his mood turning sour.
Regulus was halfway down the when he saw those familiar spindly legs and those tufts of chestnut hair poking out from beneath his beanie, a friendly smile and a nod reserved for Remus’ friends alone.
‘Hiya mate, was just coming to find you.’ Remus lilting welsh vowels never ceased to sooth him. ‘Heard about your win. Bet Potter loved that one, didn’t he?’
Regulus smirked, ‘Oh Remus, you know that he did.’
Remus chuckled. ‘I don’t know why you two insist on winding each other up. You could easily be one of the most powerful friendships in the business if you put your heads to it.’
Ah, yes, Regulus thought, that unsavoury reminder. However big his name was in the business, however much effort he put in to get to the top, he would always be a Black. He would always sit in the shadow of Walburga and Orion, celebrities and elite show-jumpers alike. Try as he might, he would always be forced to claw at the formidable reputation of his parents. And then there was the matter of Potter. Whenever Regulus won, Potter was in second place. Whenever he came second, Potter was in first. When he rides around the village for an early morning leg stretch, Potter is on the opposite side of the road, obnoxiously whistling before trying to spark up a conversation. Regulus would like to know if he ever got tired of the pretence, but he thinks he may already know the answer. So of course, as he and Remus stroll towards the prize giving, James is already there talking to the judges with a brilliant smile on his face and steaming hot cup of tea in his hands. When Regulus glances over to the scoreboard, he’s not surprised to see Potter in second place mere seconds behind him.
Regulus can pinpoint the expression on James when he realises that Regulus has arrived - it shifts from sincere to distinctly smug. From experience, Regulus estimates he’s got about 30 seconds before Potter saunters over and begins boasting. He turns towards Remus and says,
‘Hey Remus, have you seen my sponge anywhere? I’ve looked all over the lorry for it and I couldn’t find it anywhere,’
Remus expression morphs from decidedly distracted to dread within seconds.
‘Uh, about that…’ He clears his throat.
Regulus narrows his eyes.
Remus starts to feel sweaty.
‘So you know Snuffles?’
‘Yes Remus, I know your dog Snuffles.’
‘So there was an incident…’
‘An incident?’ Regulus raises an eyebrow.
‘Yes,’ Remus won’t meet his eye, ‘An incident.’
Regulus stays silent for a moment. Remus cracks.
In rapid fire motion he says, ‘There was an incident and Snuffles accidentally got into your bags while I was working and I swear to god that I only turned my back for like their second but by the time I realised it was too late… the sponge was no more.’
Regulus opened his mouth in mock horror, ‘No! Not my sponge! Anything but my sponge!’
Remus offered him a small sarcastic frown before patting him on the shoulder, ‘I know these are hard times, my friend. Hard times indeed.’
He turned his head towards Remus to crack out another witty remark, but before he could even get the words out he hears a familiar irritating voice off to the side of him shouting ‘James, no!’
Regulus spins around, and as if in slow motion, he watches as Potter’s foot gets stuck in a dent in the hard sand of the arena steps away from Regulus, his hand that was once wrapped around his cup of tea now clutches at thin air as the tea flies straight towards Regulus. James’ face is twisted in horror as he now lies in a heap on the ground and watches the tea stain Regulus’ pristine white jods an ugly beige. Regulus feels the heat on his face before he feels the weight of the situation - and then it hits him - the embarrassment - in full force. He looks around at the people at the prize giving, he meets Sirius’ eye, his mothers furious eye, and finally, he meets James’ mortified gaze and blinks back the tears. Regulus is never going to let him live this down, but for now in front of the watchful eye of other competitors and potential sponsors, he slaps a forced grin onto his face and offers his hand out to Potter. He looks even more bewildered at Regulus’ kindness than the fact that he’s just covered his mortal enemy in tea, before the realisation of reality dawns upon his face.
‘Ah, so sorry about that, Reggie.’
Regulus feels his eye twitch.
‘No problem, mate.’
He hears Remus snickering next to him and mumbling ‘mate’. He makes a mental note to kick him.
‘James Potter, second place!’ the announcer’s voice rings over the arena.
James offers him a wink before sauntering over to the podium. He makes easy conversation with the judge once more, seemingly forgetting the whole tea disaster all together, before graciously accepting his prize.
When Regulus’ own name is called, he catches his mothers eye - who is predictably scowling at him - and tries his best to smile as he gets handed his rosette, grinning for the picture and shoving down the embarrassment of being soaked to the bone.
Once it’s all over, he clambers back down and makes a bee-line for Remus, purposefully ignoring James’ attempt to speak to him and his mother who tries to grab his arm. Combined with Remus’ long legs and Regulus’ strong dislike of his mother, on a normal day they had an unspoken agreement to avoid Walburga at all costs. He and Remus had almost reached the track when Walburga grabs his arm once more.
‘Insolent boy, what do you think your doing?’
Remus freezes, his eyes flicking back to the arena where James and Sirius were standing.
‘Going back to the lorry, Mother.’ Regulus states monotonously.
‘I don’t care for that tone at all, boy. Come.’
Remus shoots him yet another troubled glance, but Regulus just eyes him as if to say, ‘save yourself.’
Walburga drags him into a deserted tack room, slams his hands down saddle stand in front of him and quickly wraps him over the knuckles with a stirrup leather three times.
‘Do you understand how embarrassed you made me today, boy?’
‘Yes, Mother.’ Regulus mumbled.
Walburga quickly wrapped him over the knuckles again.
‘Don’t mumble, Regulus, you know I hate that.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Walburga sighs. ‘I’m feeling kind today. I will not punish you how you deserve. Go back to the lorry. Be ready to leave in ten minutes. I will do and sort out this publicity crisis that you have caused.’
Regulus squashed down the urge to scream in her face that he bloody well didnt chuck tea all over himself, but knew his efforts would be futile.
So yes, after having the best morning of his life winning his class, followed by the worst afternoon of his life, Regulus stomped back to the lorry, mourning the death of his sponge and cursing James Potter’s name. He’d come to the conclusion that most things were Potter’s fault anyway. He rubs at his knuckles absentmindedly before furious wiping away the tears that had pricked in the corner of his mind. This was going to be the season that he thrashed Potter and his stupid smiles and his annoying chivalry. Mark Regulus words.
Fast forward to today, Regulus was beginning to eat his words. Hours after his disastrous fall, he was still trying to wash the grains of sand out of his hair. The following round had not gone much better than the previous, his horse was already worked up and the horses aversion to Potter’s sleek white mare was not helping the situation. Every time Potter had trotted past, his chestnut had pinned its ears and flared its nostrils - and while Regulus’ feelings towards Potter were similar, he really could afford to mess this up. Once in the ring, things began to get better. His gelding started to fall back into the rhythm of the jumps, closely cutting the corner like last time but with less of an overreaction. Regulus considered it a win when they came out with one pole, but his mother certainly didn’t. Walburga gave him the silent treatment the whole way Remus drove home - not that he was complaining - though he was still waiting for the true consequences to appear. And when they did appear, Regulus would be sure to blame Potter. He wasn’t quite sure how the days events were his fault, but he was sure he’d work it out.
So when Remus and Regulus got up early to ride the younger horses round the village, Regulus only glared at James when he emerged from his driveway on the back of his white mare and Sirius in tow behind him. He pointedly ignored the way Sirius’ jaw dropped when he caught sight of Remus behind him and concentrated putting all the hate in his body into his glare.
‘You ride?’ Sirius spluttered.
Remus only graced hm with a small smirk. ‘I do.’
‘Cool,’ Sirius remarked in a failed attempt to be nonchalant.
‘C’mon Remus,’ Regulus muttered.
‘Leaving so soon, Reggie-bear?’
‘Not soon enough, Potter.’
James scowled. Regulus batted away the thought that said he didn’t suit it.
‘I wish you would call me James, Reggie.’
‘Not in a million years, Potter.’ Regulus urged his horse into a swift trot, Remus quick on his heels.
‘I’ll miss you, Reggie-bear! See you soon, My love!’
Regulus tried to ignore that his grimace was showing the tell-tall signs of turning into a smile.