Chapter 1
James Potter Ranks #1 on the ISU World Standings and Season’s World Ranking
Regulus Black Wears Silver as James Potter Defeats the Three Consecutive Year Champion at the Grand Prix Finals
James Potter Breaks World Record in Figure Skating Short Program at the 2014 Grand Prix Finals
James Potter Labelled “Golden Boy” following Record-Breaking Short Program
Potter Wins Grand Prix Finals Gold as Black Falls, Landing Second
Regulus Black Skirts Reporters After Disastrous Short Program
Is Regulus Black’s Legacy Over?
✩
The only predictable thing about figure skating is that the sport is unpredictable.
There is a sensation that something could go spectacularly right or disastrously wrong every time a skater steps onto the rink. One minor mistake could potentially result in traumatic injuries, even in a sport known to captivate spectators with its elegance. Due to serious head trauma and muscular tears, it was not uncommon for great figure skaters to retire at an early age.
On the other hand, perfectly landed jumps and gracefully executed transitions could land skaters at the top of the podium, displaying around their neck the gold medal they have long envied. Since high scores could be nullified by something as minor as a finger brushing across the ice, it was difficult to achieve them. The score alone was dependent on several factors; performance, artistry, footwork and even interpretation of music.
Regulus Black never before felt envy for the gold medal, though. The three-time World and two-time Olympic champion, known by his devoted following as the "ice prince," first felt the burden of the metal around his neck when he was just thirteen years old. No one anticipated the teenage boy to sweep the 2008 World Junior Championships despite it being his debut competition.
Regulus quickly made a name for himself after breaking his first world record only three years into his professional career by becoming the youngest skater to successfully land a triple axel. There were plenty other records he has to his name, but Regulus was particularly fond of those that begin with ‘first’ because that meant it was unbeatable. Other records, to his annoyance, such as the highest score for a short program, were breakable.
Regulus Black never before felt envy for the gold medal. Never.
Not until today.
The program was a fucking disaster . Walburga Black, his lovely coach and mother, insisted on adding a triple axel right at the start of the routine. Thankfully, he had landed it almost perfectly, though his skates did hit the ice more harshly than hoped which no doubt knocked off technical points almost immediately. Aside from that slight mistake, the first half of the program was performed gracefully, as Regulus demonstrated to the world why he was dubbed as the “Ice Warrior”. His blades shaped lines of poetry all by themselves.
It was going well until he entered the second half of his program. See, any flips done in the second half received more points than if it were done in the first. It was a form of mercy from the ISU, who noted that the skater's stamina decreased greatly by the latter part of the program, which made flips more difficult. Walburga, unsurprisingly, took advantage of it when she designed Regulus’ routine.
Regulus braced himself for the double axel and quadruple toe-loop combination. Despite his vigorous attempts during the tormentous hours of practice leading up to the finals, Regulus had never managed to land it before today. He prayed to whatever god that was overseeing him that the hours of constant torture would be enough and he would finally land the lethal, never-done-before sequence of loops. He had to, because he if didn’t then- then-
His skates left the ice before connecting once more, the double axel finished. He felt himself gasp desperately for breath before bracing himself for the toe-loop. There was something immediately off when Regulus launched himself into the air with enough momentum to rotate. His position was tilted and it became increasingly more exacerbated as he spun. It was impossible for Regulus to land without his limbs hitting the ice painfully. Fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m going to fall, i’m going to fall, he repeated like a mantra.
An excruciating spike of anguish ran through the veins in his heart before his body had even touched the roughness of the rink. For expectation is the root of all heartache and Regulus felt disappointment straining against his chest. It threatened to swallow him whole; to gnaw at his bones so he could feel the consequences of failure beneath his skin.
Regulus hit the ice, feeling his lungs shrivel as all the oxygen was forced out his chest. He had to get up, had to get up, he had to-
Placing his torn palms on the floor to support himself up from the ground where he had laid sprawled for a moment, Regulus proceeded with the program, hissing in pain after the salchow left him skidding briefly. Great, more technical fucking points knocked off .
Regulus used what little strength he had left to conceal the quick trembling of his limbs, mentally binding himself together to keep from breaking like thin glass. The last few chords of the classical arrangement played and Regulus propelled himself into a Biellmann spin, with one leg extended behind him and the other flexing into a teardrop shape over his head.
Regulus’ entire body spun rapidly; he mentally thanked his mother for forcing him into flexibility from the young age of four, so the whole leg bent above my fucking head thing wasn’t too uncomfortable.
With one final spin, his program was over and Regulus dramatically fixed his body into a perfect posture with his hands out above his head. The judge panel would never know that the bodily fluid running down his face wasn’t sweat, but rather the first tear he had shed in three years.
✩
Regulus’ face was blinded by the sight of James' unbridled glee on the jumbotron. His brown skin was gleaming with sweat, making it look almost bronze under the spotlight. A few strands of hair fell delicately in front of his hazel eyes with the rest of it pulled back neatly into a ponytail.
Eleven year old Regulus, who had watched James’ first competition in 2006 with stars in his eyes, would be jumping with joy right now. Too bad all that admiration was replaced with pure hatred.
Regulus couldn't bear the image of being below James on the podium. No, we couldn’t bear the idea of being below anyone , so this situation was pretty fucking infuriating. He watched intensely from his peripheral vision, because he would rather die than look directly up at him, as the gold medal was placed carefully around the brown boy’s neck.
As though it belonged there. As though it was his .
Regulus’ fought the twitch in his fingers, which desperately wanted to reach out and yank the medal from the boy’s neck. He briefly fantasised choking him from the force in the process.
“-and with a record-breaking score of 300.1, James Potter is the gold medal champion of the 2014 Grand Prix Finals!” The commentator announced over the mic. The audience erupted with a mixture of amazement at the absurdly high score and ecstasy for James, who’s name was being written down in the Guinness Book of World Records right at this moment.
He made history.
He ruined Regulus’ life.
The corners of his lips wobbled as he forcefully tugged them into a smile. Regulus could feel the weight of the silver pushing against his chest, rattling his ribs and threatening to fall under the pressure of the object that was nothing more than a symbol of his failure.
After a hour of skating around the rink with the third place, Evan Rosier , he recalled, and James fucking Potter, the medal ceremony was finally over. He moved towards the edge of the rink, where his coach was glaring so aggressively that Regulus imagined he could feel holes burning into his skin. He kept his focus on his skates as he moved, unable to stand the look of blatant disappointment in his mother’s eyes.
“Ice rink at 9am tomorrow. Don’t be late,” Walburga warned him, leaving no room for argument. Not that Regulus would even think to argue; his mother had instilled unwavering obedience in him from a young age.
“Yes, Maman,” he responded flatly, the rehearsed response on his tongue before she had even finished speaking. Walburga gave him one last look before standing up abruptly from where she had been watching his program and making her way to the doors.
✩
Regulus stepped into the locker room, duffel bag gripped over his shoulder, and, to his astonishment, the room was empty. Probably at a fucking after party, he thought. The idea of James celebrating his undeserved win with his friends left him smouldered with resentment. He ignored the tears in his palm from where his nails were piercing it as he tightened his fists to keep himself from hurling his rage at one of the defenceless lockers.
Regulus wouldn’t mind launching his fists straight at James’ face. In fact, it seemed pretty therapeutic.
He made his way to one of the benches in the room, placing his duffel down next to him before propping one leg on the bench to untie his laces. His ankles were burning and Regulus was sure he had strained it because of the fall. The fall.His first fall.
Outside the locker rooms, reporters were undoubtedly awaiting his presence, ready to tear him apart with insensitive questions and force him to face his failure. Thankfully, Walburga made sure to media train him for these type of situations so all Regulus had to do was keep quiet and fucking walk as his privacy was invaded. Because God forbid a boy have some peace after the worst program of his life.
God did, infact, forbid him from having any peace. Regulus bit back a groan when he heard the door open and close. Now someone else was here. Brilliant.
If he can’t drown alone in his misery, then he’ll just have to bring down someone with him.
“..and you should’ve seen Minnie’s face when you landed the axel, you think they’ll let me hack into the security cameras to get a picture of it?”
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh no no no, absolutely not.
It was as if cold water was poured over his head, and Regulus strained to breathe, the liquid running down his throat and filling his insides until each and every crevice of his body was sloshing with water.
He would recognise that voice anywhere.
“Since when did you ever care whether you were allowed to do something before committing a federal crime, Pads?”
Regulus Black decided that he wouldn’t mind committing a crime or two, either. Namely murder because of fucking course James was hanging out with his brother. He’d had hoped for a moment that his brother had gone off to do something worthwhile with his life when he left three years ago, not continue to leech off of his best friend.
“Fair point,” Sirius hummed consideringly.
“Minerva did say she has connections with the director of the ISU. Albus, I think.” James made his way to a locker at the centre of the room, pressing the pin before dumping his duffel inside. Please, please kill me, Regulus begged but quickly stopped himself, remembering how whatever god that was listening to his thoughts wasn’t too fond of him.
“You know, I searched his name up out of pure curiosity and he’s got the longest sodding name I’ve ever seen. Should be next to mine in the Guinness World Record book,” James turned around to look at Sirius, who had his back against one of the lockers.
“Albus Dumbledore, ex-figure skater with the longest fucking name-” he paused and Regulus instantly felt eyes bore at the back of his head.
“Oh.”
Groaning internally, Regulus snapped his head back to meet James’ gaze. The older boy’s eyes were wide open, something akin to confusion on his face, and Regulus fought the temptation to slam his wide mouth shut so harshly that his jaw would snap. Or maybe even slam his lips against- What the fuck?
“You just won your first gold medal despite being, what, six years into your career?”
“Five-”
“- and you have the audacity to mock the director who gave you that opportunity in the first place? Not sure he’d be too fond to hear you right now, Potter. You wouldn’t want that medal ripped from your neck, would you?” Regulus snapped, holding James’ gaze unwaveringly. His irises were laced with unrivalled warmth, and Regulus tensed to prevent himself from going lax under his gaze.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” To what might’ve been a condescending question, James had nothing but genuine curiosity laced in his tone, and something way too close to sympathy for Regulus’ liking.
Abruptly, Regulus leaped to his feet, grabbing his duffel and heading towards the door, making sure to roughly barge past James on his way. He took one glance at Sirius, who was staring back at him as though he had seen a ghost, before ripping the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Regulus tried his best to mute the sound of his brother calling out for him, and god , he would never admit how much it ached to hear his voice.
Emotionally, Regulus wanted to stay and throw himself into Sirius’ arms. Maybe even let him gently brush the loose strands from his face and plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Intellectually, Regulus wanted to run miles away from him as some sort of sick type of revenge.
As always, he seemed to enjoy punishing himself.
A camera flashed in his face the moment he stepped into the reception area. Of course they weren’t outside - they were inside .
Regulus ducked his head, cursing himself for absentmindedly forgetting to take out his mask the moment he left the locker room. The people were like a pressing wave, and Regulus couldn’t move. He was stuck and would have to deal with being assaulted with questions. For a moment, he wished Sirius was here so he could lean into his body for some false reassurance.
“Why did you include the combination in the program?”
“Any comment about your fall?”
“Are you thinking of quitting?”
“What did your mother and coach have to think about your program?”
“Are you envious of James Potter?”
“Any comment on no longer being the #1 ranked skater?”
It was all too much,and Regulus couldn’t push on, but he couldn’t leave either, trapped in the sea of flashing lights and furious words. Though he was never claustrophobic growing up, he struggled to push air out his lungs in the enclosed space and wouldn’t put it past him, now. He picked his gaze up from the floor and searched frantically for a means of escape. Reporters cursed after Regulus successfully ripped through them, running for the private exit.
Exhale.
✩
He was late.
It was 10am and oh god Regulus was a whole hour late. He grabbed the hair tie from his wrist and pulled his dishevelled black hair back into a ponytail in an attempt to look less as though he had woken up ten minutes ago. Literally .
The lights of the rink were switched on and Regulus wasn’t sure if he was glad his coach had waited for him or that he was terrified for his fucking life. He was instantly met with cold air as he pushed the double-doors open, looking around before noticing a figure leaning against the edge of the rink.
Regulus fixed his posture and did his best to mask any sign of fatigue from his face before walking down the outside of the rink.
Inhale. Exhale.
Do they really have security cameras in here?
If she went too far then maybe I could- maybe-
“What time is it, Regulus?” Walburga snapped him out of his thoughts, not bothering to look up from where she had her gaze fixed on her phone. Regulus swallowed, fear prickling his skin.
Regulus practised torturously for the past three years to uphold his position as the #1 ranked figure skater for more reasons than one. Part of his motivation stemmed from his genuine passion and competitiveness; the absolute hatred he had against the idea of anyone being above him.
Another part of his motivation came from crippling fear.
“10am, Maman,” he responded, cringing at the slight shake to his voice. Keep it together.
“How late are you, Regulus?”
“An hour late.” His mother scoffed, something dangerous painting her features and Regulus held himself from flinching back merely at the sight of her expression. Walburga hummed as she stood up, reaching out with her phone in her hand. It was an article, headlined:
Is Regulus Black’s Legacy Over?
Oh, well, at least that explains the anger.
“You,” she snatched the phone back and threw it on the chair behind her as though the article burned her through the screen,” have disgraced the legacy your ancestors left behind. How dare you bring shame to the figure skaters of the House of Black,” she spat. Regulus felt how each word punctured his skin, burning him like venom. He no longer could resist the urge to flinch and felt himself physically step back.
Walburga grabbed his chin harshly, pulling him back in, with her fingers digging mercilessly into his cheek. He wouldn’t be surprised if it left him bleeding.
“Five consecutive triple axels. One small mistake, and you are to repeat from number one,” she hissed.
“Yes, Maman.”
This was going to be a terrible morning.
✩
James slammed his car door shut, looking a bit excitedly at the building in front of him. His bar shift wasn’t until later that evening, which meant he had a few hours to spare so, unsurprisingly, he decided to spend it skating around the rink.
It was like oxygen to him, and he couldn’t get enough of it.
As he had only been to this particular rink once before, it took a bit of confused manoeuvring to find the main area, the bright lights making the ice twinkle. He squinted his eyes under the lack of lights in the reception before pushing the double-doors open, relaxing into the cold breeze of the rink.
To his disappointment, the rink was already occupied. It seemed as though the skater was practising, so James made his way to the edge of the rink to put his skates on before barging into the skater’s personal space.
It was a boy, he noted. The skater worked up his momentum, and then his skates were leaving the ice, making James lean closer as he realised he was going for the triple axel. At 10 in the morning? Surprisingly, the skater managed to land it, but a hand touched down, and James’ smile faded as he saw the skater grimace. And, oh.
This wasn’t just any boy.
It was Regulus Black in all his glory.
The man shook his head, looking as though he were scolding himself, and then he built up momentum before launching himself into the air, no doubt trying to land the axel again. James gripped onto the railing of the rink, knuckles whitening, as Regulus’ body collided with the ice. It was obvious that it was an excruciating fall to anyone. At least he’ll stop now.
But he didn’t. A moment passed and Regulus panted, slowly pushing himself off the ice. James could see the uncontrollable tremor in his knees, threatening to buckle under his weight. Regulus tried again, and James’ eyes widened with relief as the boy landed it perfectly.
Thank fuck. It was over, he’d landed it. James had to admit, Regulus’ stamina was fucking insane , especially because the boy was known for his artistry rather than athleticism. James skated with passion while Regulus danced with poise. Two very different figure skaters, yet still united in their desire to win.
It wasn’t until Regulus began skating once more, rearing up to try again that the sinking feeling turned to a full boil, and he couldn’t stop himself as he watched Regulus fall again, how his legs failed to catch him and his shoulder took the brunt force of the collision, sliding across the ice. Rushing to the rink exit, James braced a hand on the half-wall, looking around frantically for a way to snap Regulus out of whatever trance he was in.
It was terrifying.
James whirled around, eyes wandering around the outside of the rink, and paused upon seeing Regulus’ coach sitting at the edge with her gaze on her phone. Your skater is killing himself, you ignorant bastard. With one skate on, he took off into a sprint in Walburga’s direction, before coming to a stop and panting with his hands on his knees. The woman lifted her gaze, one eyebrow furrowed questioningly.
“Yes?”
“You- He fell-” James pointed in Regulus’ direction, where the boy was pushing himself onto his knees and slamming the side of his first into the frozen surface out of frustration,”I’m pretty sure he injured his shoulder really badly. I can go find the first aid team-”
“No.”
“Okay I’ll- wait, what?” James froze, replaying her response in his head in an attempt to make sense of it. Surely Walburga realised how irresponsible it was to let her skater attempt intense flips while injured?
“I have given him a task to complete, and so he is doing it. If it is his presence in the rink that is bothering you, then leave and find elsewhere to practise.”
James’ heart plummeted to his feet. They both knew the toll non-stop axels would have - on his body and his mind- yet she not only let him do it but instructed him to. He felt a sharp pang in his chest at the thought of it being some sick sadistic type of punishment after yesterday. No. That doesn’t make sense. It’s not like he came last place, he came second for fucks sake.
He turned his face back to the ice and could only watch in horror as Regulus kept pushing himself. It was nothing short of heartbreaking to watch, even as he landed three consecutively, because he fell again the next time, and the next, and the next. Except, he laid sprawled on the ice without getting up after the last one.
James had to look again when Regulus fell again, fist colliding with the ice once more and a guttural scream filling the rink. He was almost at his breaking point, and there was nothing James could do other than wait for him to finish whatever task he was given by the psycho of a coach that sat behind him, almost bored as her son destroyed himself in the rink
Regulus missed the next three. James could see the air knock from his lungs, how it took longer and longer for him to push himself up. There was nothing more he wanted to do than rush into the ice and rip the skates off his feet. But he couldn’t. James knew full well that Regulus was more than not fond of him. He memorised the look of intense hatred in his eyes the moment they met in the locker room after the competition. The stubborn kid would refuse any and every help offered, especially from him.
Another half hour passed by, and Regulus had successfully landed five consecutive triple axels. James gripped the edge of the railing, awaiting his return. Except he didn’t, because Regulus’ legs gave out from under him and the sound of head meeting ice echoed around the rink. His body connected with the surface so hard that James felt it in his own bones, and he was sure he’d never forget the sound for as long as he lived.
He didn’t get up again.
“He’s done. He’s done. Please, get him, I think he might have a concussion or- He isn’t going to skate out himself, someone has to get him, ” James begged, his fists tightening with rage at the sight of that same bored look plastered on Walburga’s face. Yeah, she wasn’t getting up anytime soon. James would have to take it into his own hands.
He cursed, stepping onto the ice and praying that he kept his balance with only one skate on. Regulus struggled to push himself up, eyes fluttering with exhaustion as James put one arm around his shoulder and the other around his torso. He hauled him up in his arms, and wobbled to the exit of the rink.
“Come on, you're fine, yeah? You’re okay.” James softly muttered reassurances. He wasn’t sure if it was for the boy on the brink of unconsciousness in his arms or for himself. Thankfully, the boy was pretty light and it didn’t take much strength out of him. He carefully placed Regulus on the floor so that he was leaning against the side of the rink, and then knelt down to unlace his skates.
Walburga left. The bitch just fucking left and James had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from hurling profanities.
“I’m going to get you home, okay? You have to tell me where you left your keys,” he asked urgently, trying his best to hide the tremble in his voice.
“In the locker down the- the hall, on the-” Regulus paused, and James let his eyes wander over the boy’s face, looking for any sign of a concussion. “Left.” He finished, head falling on his shoulder and eyes threatening to shut. No, no, no no.
James reached out to catch his head,” I’ll be right back. Will you try and stay awake for me?” he pressed. Regulus’ lips were shut in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed as though he were thinking intensely.
“For you?”
“Yes,” James said.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes Potter, I won’t die,” he responds flatly. James nodded before lifting himself onto his legs and stumbling towards the locker room. Grabbing both his and Regulus’ duffel bags, he came back to find Regulus staring at his feet in an attempt to keep his eyes open. James’ lips curled up slightly at the almost endearing sight.
Somehow, he managed to haul Regulus into the passenger seat of his car. The boy had provided him with an address and James tried his absolute hardest not to shoot glances at him every few seconds as he drove, terrified that he was going to sleep and- and not-
A red light had him slamming his fist on the wheel as if that would somehow make it turn green. “Stay awake, Regulus, please, just a bit longer,” he begged, pressing hard down on the pedal as soon as the light turned green.
It seemed as though a full hour passed by before they reached the building. James fumbled with the keys in one hand, with the other arm under Regulus’ shoulder to support him up. The boy leaned on him inside the elevator, but managed to walk himself a bit down the hall and to the door of his apartment. Abruptly, Regulus whirled around to meet James’ concerned eyes, his own fluttering and downcast.
“Now that your saviour complex is fulfilled, leave,” he hissed. James looked as though the words snapped him out of some sort of trance, and he found himself nodding.
“Yeah, er, right, I’ll be going then. Just-” he rummaged inside his duffel bag to find an icepack and reached his hand out.
” For your head,” he murmured. Regulus looked at him for a moment before ripping the ice pack out his hands and slamming the apartment door shut behind him.
“You’re welcome,” James whispered under his breath, though it was with no venom in his tone.
Well, that was a pretty eventful way to spend his morning.
✩