Starboy Interlude

Swirls of frozen air danced around James as he stood, tired eyes unmoving at the figure spinning across the ice, elegance and grace exuding from every controlled, precise move. A dim halo of light captured each curl of midnight hair in its grasp, encouraging the subtle icicles braided into his locks to twinkle. He must’ve fallen over countless times for that much ice to embed itself in his hair, though you would not be able to tell. He seemed invincible. He seemed vaguely familiar.  

James’s breath caught. He had never seen someone quite as naturally beautiful on the ice. Others, such as Sirius Black, were incredible, but his skating was dangerously erratic as he dared to test the boundaries of physics. Whoever this skater was, was serene, using the regulations of physics as his guide rather than a rule to test. He moved with no real difficulty. The skater smoothly transitioned out of his turn, the ice carving underneath him as he flew across the rink, legs moving in such intricate patterns that James could not name the technique, nor could he name the emotion with which the skater danced, though he felt the strange urge that he was compelled to.   

The skater propelled himself into a jump James vaguely recognised by name — a triple axel — before crashing to the floor. A moment of bliss tarnished by the boundaries of physics. And he lay there, perfectly still, chest rising and falling as though he were asleep.  

“Hey!” James called instinctively, rushing to the edge of the rink. “You alright?” 

The skater flew up, mouth parted in surprise. For a moment, his startled eyes darted around the room, until they rested on James. It was only then, as his deep grey eyes pierced into James’s, that he realised who the skater was.   

“Regulus?” James asked. His voice echoed across the rink. “Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump.” 

Regulus only blinked at him. Once. Twice.  

He was much different than when James had last seen him; more refined than his scruffy older brother but arguably much more striking. His hair was shorter than Sirius’s, and even though groomed carefully, it still harboured an unruly curl. The lack of light cast sharp shadows along his jawline and cheekbones, which gave him the same haughty appearance as the rest of his family, however he was different. The darkness suited him. And his eyes were the darkest of all — studying him with a deep grey gaze, almost seeming black. It was a colder shade than his brothers. He was startling; he was so different to the shy boy who Sirius had introduced him to on James’s first day of Year 8. He was harsher.   

“How long have you been there?” Regulus snapped in a much deeper voice than James remembered him having.  

“Not long,” James promised kindly, although he really wasn't sure exactly how long he had been watching Regulus skate for. “How are you?”  

Regulus arched a dark brow. “Significantly worse than I was ten seconds ago.”  

“Yeah, that was a nasty fall,” said James airily, leaning against the side of the rink. He pretended not to notice that Regulus had meant James’s presence, not the fall. “Are you hurt? Regulus?” 

“It’s Black,” he spat as he pushed himself to his feet.   

“You couldn't have chosen a nicer colour?” 

He said nothing in response. Sometimes, James thought he was invisible in Regulus’s presence. Regulus avoided eye contact at every possibility, quipping back to every genuine word with a quick-witted remark that left James wondering what on earth it was that he was thinking. A part of him didn't want to know, lest his ego be shattered into a hundred pieces.  

Regulus glared at the floor, and without a word, skated to the edge of the rink and stepped off the ice, never once looking at James. He sat down on the bench nearby, and started unlacing his boots harshly, all while faithfully keeping his gaze locked on the ground beneath him. “Why are you still here?”  

“Because I love scaring skaters in the middle of the night,” James replied simply. “I have nothing else to do.”  

“You find yourself too amusing.”  

“You don’t find me amusing enough.”  

Regulus scowled. “You make finding anything amusing about you a difficulty.”  

James grinned. “You know, as much as I love our verbal sparring matches— “  

“I’ve talked to you once in my life.”  

“So, you’re keeping count?”  

“Don’t flatter yourself.”  

“Too late.”  

It was then, during the silence that ensued between them, that James realised he had never truthfully answered Regulus’s question. Why was he here? He had meant to come down to do some training, to work on his technique (which had been sorely lacking as of late, and he had not quite found a solution yet) when he saw Regulus and found that his feet wouldn't move. Regulus skated with such precise technique that… that James had just thought of the best idea to ever exist. The answer to his problem had been in front of him for the past three minutes, and he hadn’t even spotted it! Regulus was, no doubt, the most technically advanced skater at Hogwarts, and if James could just get him to show him a few things… And he had considered Sirius, but his best friend was off the cards. Sirius hadn’t dared to figure skate since he arrived at Hogwarts, and James never pushed him to find out why. Though, he assumed it had nothing to do with his natural disdain for the sport, and everything to do with the ‘Noble House of Black’ — the internationally renowned family of Olympic Figure Skaters.   

James never asked about Sirius’s family — he knew Sirius would only shut down.   

And so, it left Regulus as his last resort. Consequently, James decided, quite impulsively, to seize the moment.  

James inhaled. “So, say I was going to ask you to— “  

“No,” Regulus snapped immediately.   

“Would you just— “  

“No.”  

“You have to— “  

“No.”  

“You don’t know what it is!” James said, exasperated, throwing his hands up.  “I could be offering you hundreds of quid to do something for me. You’d be missing out.”  

Regulus gave him a pointed look, though never directly in the eye. “Yes, because I desperately need hundreds of quid from you.”  

James blinked. New tactic. Regulus would agree to something if Sirius was involved, surely. And it wasn’t a total offhanded lie. Sirius would… indirectly…be affected. Sirius was also on the ice hockey team, and if James got better, so would the team, so really, it did impact Sirius quite a bit.   

“Right. Well, yeah, but say it was concerning Sirius— “  

“Then I’d give you an even stronger no,” Regulus threw over his shoulder and yanked his boot off his foot.   

Well, shit. New tactic.   

“What if I told you that it was something really important?”  

“Then I’d amend my answer and add to it that I didn’t care that it was important. Which I don’t,” Regulus hissed. “Fuck off.”  

James set his features into a harsh line—a look of determination he only saved for the most challenging of tasks. And Regulus Black was proving to be quite the challenge, indeed. James hated himself for it, but anger bubbled low in his chest, which was a feeling he didn’t have often enough to be comfortable with.   

New tactic.   

“Right, yeah— but if you just— “  

“What part about fuck off don’t you understand, Potter?”  

“I do understand it,” James snapped, because he had really quite had it. It was midnight, and he was tired, and he’d meant to come down to the rink to work on his technique when the most brilliant idea occurred to him, and Regulus couldn’t even listen to him! A hint of vulnerability crept into his voice. “But I need something from you, and God, would you just look at me? Just look at me, Regulus.” 

Regulus said nothing. He stared straight ahead, as though James wasn’t even there. And if there was one thing that James Potter hated, it was being ignored.  

“I told you, it’s Black,” he said, voice only slightly softer than the last time he spoke.   

“Fine, Black. I just— could you just listen to me for five seconds? I promise I’ll be done soon, and then you can get back to sulking and swearing at me when my back is turned. Deal?” 

Regulus sighed, tugging off his other boot. “Make it quick.”  

“I knew you’d give in,” James said with a lopsided grin, and slid onto the bench beside him with such casual demeanour you hadn’t had been able to guess he’d been spending the last three minutes begging Regulus to listen to him. “Okay, so I need your help with something. Now, you don’t have to say yes— “  

“I won’t be saying yes.”  

“You will.”  

“I won’t.”  

James smiled. “You don’t know that yet.”  

Regulus shot him an unimpressed look, which James took as a green light to start his pitch.   

“Okay, so, me and Coach had this big chat at the end of last year, and this year, he says I need to practise my technique. He says it's the only thing stopping me from being really good, and I want to be really good. And there’s only so much he can teach me, and only so much I can teach myself, and it's not as if there’s a book on it anywhere, which I wouldn't read anyway, which is beside the point.”  

“I don’t see why this is an issue.” Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’re the captain.”  

“So?”  

“By definition, that means you’re the best.”  

“No. Sirius is the best.”  

“Is there a point to this?” Regulus snapped.   

“I need you to teach me.”  

For the first time, Regulus really looked him in the eye. It was a strange sensation that tugged at James’s stomach, yet another thing he couldn’t define. There were so many things he couldn’t define when Regulus was near, but he desperately needed to. Regulus’s eyes were deep and dark, as though there was an entire cavern inside his gaze. From his stunned silence, James took this as an opportunity to continue.   

“I’m having trouble with it, and I think it's affecting my performance, and I mean, I’ve seen you skate, and your twisty turny thingys are really good— “  

The corner of Regulus’s lips lifted slightly.   

“Is that a yes?”  

“That’s a strong no,” he drawled, looking at James with an amused spark in his eye. “Besides, you haven't told me what's in it for me.”  

James faltered. Shit. In all his excitement, James had quite forgotten to think anything through at all. And Regulus knew that. He was probably counting on it, in fact.   

Regulus took James’s silence as confirmation of his assumptions and stood, swinging his boots over his shoulder with an unimpressed look. “The answer is no. Thank you for wasting my time.”  

James shot up from his seat as Regulus retreated toward the exit. He needed something, anything to make Regulus agree to this. Because God, did James need it. He needed to be better. It was some deep rooted, primal need. To be better, to impress people, to be enough. Perhaps it was his sleep deprivation, but James wasn't thinking much when he spoke next.   

“You’re not strong enough for a quadruple.”  

Regulus stopped, though he didn’t turn around. “What?”  

“You need more power to get you around another time. That's what you were trying today before you fell,” James reasoned. “And Sirius can do it, but you can’t, which bothers you, and he doesn’t even figure skate anymore, which makes it worse. You’re trying but you’re getting nowhere, and I can help you. I can make you stronger, Regulus. It’s a win-win situation. There are no downsides to it. We both get something out of it.”  

When Regulus turned around, his gaze was ice. James should’ve been scared of him, scared of the boy with a sharp tongue and harsh eyes, but he was only intrigued. “No downsides?” Regulus said incredulously.  

James nodded. “I’m right, and you know it. I’ll help you train if you teach me your technique.”  

Regulus looked like he was really considering it for a moment. Regulus needed the help as much as James did, and they both knew that to be true. He was just stubborn. Or was he?  

“You’re not my fucking therapist, Potter,” Regulus retaliated, his voice thick with venom. “The answer is still no, and I’d fucking think again before you ask me for a second time, because I swear to God it’ll be the last time you speak. Thank you so much for wasting both of our time.”  

And with that, Regulus slammed the door shut behind him.   

Yes, it was safe to say he was stubborn.  

“Twat,” James mumbled at the door after his departure. And when his echo faded into nonexistence, the only thing James was left with was disheartenment, and just a touch of anticipation.  

Because, as stated previously, there was nothing that James Potter relished more than a challenge.