History Maker

Before he even had a chance to peel his eyes open, Regulus was groaning from the agonising soreness pressing all over his body. A sharp hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as a new wave of searing agony ripped through his legs and up his torso. White-hot knives pierced every inch of his skin from the slightest movement, tearing his flesh apart to unveil the aftermath of failure scalding his bones.

It hurt so fucking bad . 

The unbearable pain left Regulus’ mind in a sort of haze, and resultantly built an illusion of an older boy with similar features to him, though they were much more soft and tender than the roughness of his, gently wiping the sweat coating his burning forehead and muttering comforting reassurances in his ear. 

Tu vas bien Reggie, she’s gone, i’m here, i’m here, i’m here

Except, he wasn’t. 

Regulus winced under the sunlight glaring through his half-closed curtains as he carefully opened his eyes. The comforter felt uncomfortably sticky against his clammy skin; it’s heaviness similar to the suffocating weight of disappointment pounding against his lungs. Sometime during his sleep, he had dropped his pillows on the floor next to his bed, no doubt a result of his limbs twisting with anguish. 

With trembling fingers, Regulus reached out to his bedside table and frantically fumbled for the tub of painkillers. The pills threatened to fall between the uncontrollable tremor of his fingers, but, eventually, he had the bottle pulled in front of his chest. With one deep inhale, Regulus pulled his body up so that he was leaning against the back of his bed in one quick movement. The lid of the tub was twisted open in a matter of seconds and Regulus swallowed two pills down his throat desperately.

The drug took effect almost immediately; his misery melted into a blunt tingle and gentle throb. Regulus sighed as he felt his shoulders untense — the fog that covered his mind lifting. 

And, oh. Regulus wished it hadn't because the events of that morning came hurtling back to him. A gasp slipped from between his lips as he felt himself physically flinch at the memory; the rink, the fury flaring in his mother’s eyes, the angry words blistering his skin, the task , and- and James-

James brought him home. 

“Fucking hell,” Regulus mumbled, his tone almost on the edge of a whine. Yeah, his ego was never going to recover from this. The situation had bruised it so severely to the point where it was beyond repair. Because the idea of anyone at all seeing him in such a vulnerable state, to realise that his heart was made of thin glass rather than robust steel, made shame ripple his lungs; overflowing it so that the organ was wracking against his chest from the pressure.

And what makes it a hundred times worse was the fact that it was James, out of all people, who had witnessed it. James’ fatal flaw was his desire to melt rough edges into smooth lines, even if its sharpness pricked and drew blood out of him. Regulus refused to be the person James saw as an opportunity to soothe. He didn’t need help. 

He would gladly let his jagged edges pierce anyone who stepped within his vicinity with the intention to care . Because they didn’t. No one ever did. Not really.

Including his best friend, who decided it was the perfect time to call him while he was seconds away from drifting back to sleep. Regulus groaned lowly, reaching for his phone on the desk and grimacing at the contact name before accepting the call.

“What is it?” he mumbled, one hand rubbing furiously at his eye in an attempt to lift himself out of the fatigue he was fighting against succumbing to.

“Hey, so I know you desperately want to sleep for the next ten years but-”

“Yet you still disturb me. Knowingly. Some kind of friend you are, Remus,” Regulus cut him off dryly. He felt his shoulders loosen slightly at the familiarity of Remus’ voice.

“I’m an excellent mate, actually, you just don’t know it yet,” the boy on the other side of the phone protested. Regulus could imagine the playful scowl on his face.

“I’ve had to put up with you for three years, I think I’d know pretty well,” was his clipped response. Regulus would never admit how much he appreciated their friendship. His heart was a home with many rooms, and Regulus let Remus stay for as long as he wanted, without asking for rent; because their friendship was built on giving and not taking – and Regulus would willingly give, give, give until the only space inside his body that wasn’t hollow was where Remus resided.

“Aren’t you on your shift?” Regulus asked. Remus had just recently started a full-time job at a bar and Regulus made sure to meticulously memorise his shift schedule so he would know when to silently drop by his apartment with food. The older boy would be too tired to get himself something to eat, and Regulus couldn’t have that. He also generally just enjoyed his company; how he wasn’t expected to put up a facade and engage in meaningless conversations. He would never tell Remus that, though.

Remus groaned, “I am, the bar’s fucking packed tonight. I called because I realised I forgot my keys at my apartment,” he paused for a moment, “You’ve got those extra keys I gave you a while back, right?” 

“Mhm, do you want me to drop them off?”

“If you’re able to, yeah. The bar isn't too far from your place.” There was a soft knowing tone to his voice that Regulus recognised instantly. If you’re able to . 

Remus knew briefly but enough about how mornings after a bad competition went for Regulus. On one particularly bad day, the boy had shown up to his apartment, limping on one leg with bruises littered all over his arms. Walburga treated Regulus’ body like a canvas for her to decorate. She stroked the bristles of her brush on his limbs, and painted purple patches all over his torso. The woman was sadistic and Regulus had to physically stop Remus from ripping into her studio and launching a few fists at her himself.

“Send me the address.” There was silence for a moment before a notification pinged on his phone.

“I’ll see you in a bit then, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Regulus?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he cursed flatly, though a small smile was tugging at his lips at the sound of Remus’ warm laughter on the other side of the phone. 

✩

James was partly to blame for the overcrowding inside the bar. He had decided his shift was a great opportunity to call his friends over as a sort of post-competition celebration. The intense practice leading up to the finals meant James hadn’t had much time to catch up with anyone; aside from Sirius, who made sure to wake up early just to tag along with him to the rink almost every morning to oversee his training with his coach, Minerva, eagerly.

James had to rip his eyes away whenever he noticed that mixture of nostalgia and misery contorting Sirius’ features as he watched his friend glide across the ice. James knew how difficult it was for him to be there, and yet he refused to let James go alone knowing the overwhelming stress the boy feels leading up to competitions. 

After pouring himself some water, because his manager had warned him – annoyingly enough – not to drink on the job, James made his way to the high tables on the left side of the bar. His lips were pulled into a beaming grin as he noticed the familiar pair of ginger and brown curls sitting beside each other on the stools. 

“Hey girls, leaving me out the fun, are we? I’m hurt,” James announced playfully, slipping into the stool across them.

“I swear your shift isn’t over until another ten minutes,” Lily recalled pointedly.

“Yeah, well, I have no doubt my manager is drunk off his mind right now,” James leant in with one hand covering a side of his mouth before whispering, “ between you and me, I’m pretty sure his girlfriend just broke up with him.”

“Oh, poor guy,” Mary mumbled sympathetically. James didn’t fail to notice how she had her fingers intertwined with Lily’s under the table. He’s had his own suspicions for a while now, and felt warmth bubble inside his chest knowing things were going well for them.

“So, how’s that little campaign going?” he asked, planting both his shoulders on the table and leaning in so that he could hear their voices clearer over the boisterous pop music.

“They said that they’re going to – take it into consideration – whatever the fuck that means,” Lily mocked, with audible significance in her tone and a more earnest expression on her face at the mention of the campaign. With the Olympics coming up, Lily and Mary had an interest in seeing less rigid gender norms in pair skating. The ISU strictly states in rule 300 in their handbook that pair skating must only be between one woman and one man. It was ridiculous, really. The two girls decided to challenge the rigid binary that figure skating exists on and proposed a rule change so that two women – or two men – were able to professionally pair skate together.

“If they refuse the proposition, I’ll simply accuse Albus of misogyny and homophobia,” she grunted, fiddling with the straw in her glass. 

James ran his tongue under his top lip and released a soft laugh before slowly tilting his head, “ Accusing the director of a sport where men flaunt their ass in tight costumes while dancing across ice of homophobia? Don’t know about that one, Lily.” 

Mary laughed softly into her hands, turning her head to the side so that she was looking at Lily,” he’s got a point, you know.”

“God, whatever. I just don’t think I can stand being manhandled by a guy for a whole other season,” she groaned. James reached out to place his hand on hers before meeting her gaze earnestly.

“I’m sure it’ll work out well. Besides, did you see? The media just announced that there’s a high chance that there are going to be multiple rule changes this Olympics, so, who knows?” 

Lily hummed into her drink before pulling it away from her lips, “the ISU and DE are going head-to-head over who’s hosting the Olympics. I have a feeling that’s why the media are anticipating a lot of rule changes.” 

She was right. There’s a long history of rivalry between the two figure skating organisations. For the past few years, the skating events at the Olympics were hosted solely by the ISU despite the DE’s attempts at intervening. The latter organisation had a completely different vision to how figure skating events should be carried out.

The most notable difference was that they placed heavier emphasis on technical ability over artistry  – their definition of passion was skaters attempting to land lethal jumps rather than writing lines of poetry with their blades.

The three of them engaged in meaningless banter over the next half an hour before James’ name was abruptly called from behind the booth. He tapped his phone and grunted after realising his shift starts in just a minute. With one last goodbye, he walked back to the front of a bar before slipping behind the booth. 

Surprisingly enough, James loved his part-time job. To other people, it might seem crazy that James was willing to work extra hours on top of the whole figure skating thing – but James appreciated the escape. Despite his glaring popularity, especially because he was now the #1 ranked figure skater in the world , he was rarely ever recognised. People were too consumed by alcohol to put name to face; the most he got occasionally was narrowed eyes due to momentary identification but that was it.

So, why was there a boy glaring at him, his lips parted slightly from astonishment, with blatant recognition from across the bar? James narrowed his eyes at the figure; the boy had a perfectly sculpted face, a mixture of both gentle and sharp lines, a high-bridged nose and, god his eyes. The shade of brown was both mellow and vibrant, soft and sharp, the comforting scent of rain after a thunderstorm, the sound of waves crashing onto the shore and James was willing to drown drown drown.  

The boy approached the booth, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his jeans while the other fiddled with a twinkling object. His eyes were furrowed and James desperately wanted to reach out and sooth the harsh lines. The smile faded from James’ face when the boy was only a few steps in front of him and a wave of deja vu coursed through him as he realised who it was.

Ah, well that explains the boy's expression, atleast.

“You,” Regulus spat, pointing at him accusingly, “ work here?” 

James tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes, “why the look of surprise?” 

“Just- fucking hell , i’m going to kill him,” Regulus moaned, hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Him?” 

“Remus Lupin. He works here. I’m here to drop something off.” Regulus stated matter of factly.

“You can just give it to me, I can’t say I know him well, but I can ask around-”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he scowled, cutting him off dryly, “I’ll wait here while you go find him from behind the bar because he’s clearly not out in the main area.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that. Er, what does he look like?” James asked sheepishly.

“And here I thought, knowing the person you are, you’d know your co-workers well,” Regulus raised one eyebrow, lips tugging into the smallest of smirks.

“Didn’t know you were capable of both insulting and complimenting someone at the same time. Guess we’re both learning something new about each other,” James remarked playfully, lips parted in a fake-gasp.

“It was an insult,“ Regulus protested with a deep sigh, his scowl deepening.

“Tall boy, similar age, probably wearing a ridiculous jumper. Now fuck off,” he listed, unwaveringly holding James’ gaze, something soft glimmering in his irises. Why are you looking at me like that? The older boy complied, turning around and walking towards the door, with a sign reading ‘ Staff Only’ above, and slipped behind the door.

Regulus dropped himself onto one of the tall stools, resting his head in his hand before groaning with frustration. As if yesterday wasn’t enough, he’s having to deal with James’ irritating presence again . And of fucking course his best friend was his co-worker. Honestly, he felt a pang of betrayal in his chest which quickly melted into anger – why hadn’t Remus told him? It’s not like Regulus would have forced him to quit, or something insane like that. Just- Regulus would have appreciated knowing that Remus was working with his biggest rival, you know? 

Hey, God? I’m not too fond of the plot of this chapter. Maybe get someone to beta read it next time before you decide to ruin my fucking life.

“Reg?” The familiar voice snapped him out of his inner complaints, lifting his head out of his hands to throw sharp daggers at his friend. He felt a little bad after taking in Remus’ look of confusion, but threw it off after noticing the brown boy walk out from behind him. Oh, he was furious .

“Why do you look like I’ve just been fraternising with the enemy?” Remus asked, eyes darting between the two boys who were having some kind of stare-off – though James looked much more amused than Regulus. 

“You haven’t,” Regulus responded, eyes still narrowed on James, who had an annoying grin plastered on his face.

“He hasn’t?” James asked, eyebrows raised.

“No. You’ve been fraternising with the devil incarnate.” There was a moment of silence before James was clutching his stomach, his shoulders shaking, as he laughed with his entire body. Regulus tuned out the sound of the bar as he focused solely on the gentle huffs of laughter escaping from between James’ lips; it sounded so much like youth that Regulus wanted to capture it in a box and treasure it forever. 

Oh, he liked that sound so much. He liked being the person who brought it out of him and would do anything to hear it again.

James wheezed, clutching onto the bar for support, “God, I know you’re capable of a lot of things but I wasn’t aware humour was one of them.”

“Didn’t know you were capable of both insulting and complimenting someone at the same time, Potter,” Regulus remarked, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“James. You can call me James.” 

“I’m good, thanks,” Regulus reached inside his pocket and placed the keys on the bar, turning his gaze to Remus who was watching the encounter with a combination of bewilderment and amusement,” Your keys. Text me after your shift.” 

Abruptly, he stood up from the stool before Remus had time to thank him, and made his way to the entrance and out of the bar.

James turned to Remus apologetically, “He’s absolutely going to give you the worst scolding of your life. Thoughts and prayers, my friend.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be in this situation if I had known you worked here. He probably thinks I kept it a secret from him. How come I don’t see you around? I work full-time.” Remus asked, with genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I only work some shifts when I’m available because of the, ah, whole figure skating thing. The last time I came in was probably a month ago.” 

“Makes sense,” Remus muttered.

“Sorry I- If I had known-”

“You’d what? Resign? James, there’s no need to apologise, Regulus can just be a bit of a git sometimes,” Remus cut him off, knowing that the boy was on the brink of rambling incoherent apologies.

“A bit is an understatement,” James mumbled, fidgeting with his hands.

Remus sighed deeply, “Things haven’t been going too well for him, after the finals. He normally gets like this – snappy and argumentative – when a competition doesn’t go well.” James considered his words, and the memory of that morning left an ache in his chest. Regulus falling, again and again and again and-

“I went to the rink this morning,” James started carefully, “ He was there. With his coach.” Remus’ gaze snapped to his abruptly, a look of understanding painting his features. 

“Was it- Was it bad?” Remus asked, even though he knew what his answer was going to be.

“Yes,” James admitted, voice on the edge of a whisper. He tilted his head back so he was leaning against the wall, closing his mouth for a moment before continuing, “I thought he was going to die.”

The admission made his heart heavy with agony. James had to furiously blink back the tears that were threatening to fall, because Regulus didn’t need his pity or sympathy. At the end of the day, it wasn’t going to free Regulus from the torture; from the violent words ripping his limbs apart one by one, from the harsh hands meeting his skin, from his inability to refuse doing pain-inflicting tasks that could potentially knock the oxygen permanently out of his lungs. 

For every wrong step Regulus took, he was one right step closer to lying beneath the ice instead of above.

✩

Minerva texted James the next morning, informing him that she had just received an email from the ISU containing all the new rule changes for the upcoming Olympics. It was being held in France this year, which James was looking forward to despite the knowledge that he’d barely have any time to explore the country amidst all the chaos.

James stumbled through the doors of the studio, his body jumping with excitement, and any hint of fatigue was lifted from his mind as he noticed his coach meticulously reading something on her computer.

Minerva lifted her gaze from her screen, a strange look on her face that James couldn’t quite decipher,” Take a seat, I’ll run through the email in just a moment.” He sat down with a plop, fingers fidgeting under the table as a wave of nervousness rushed through him. I mean, it was the Olympics they were talking about, for god's sake – arguably the biggest figure skating event in the world. James came third place last year in Beijing, just behind Narcissa Black, who came second, and Regulus, who, unsurprisingly, won gold. He still remembers the genuine look of pure relief and joy on the boy’s features as he held the medal at the top of the podium. 

He misses it, and, for a brief moment, James entertains the idea of purposely performing badly just so he can see Regulus’ blinding smile at the top one more time. Unfortunately for him, James was probably the most competitive skater alive and the idea would remain a fantasy. 

“Alright, the email is pretty long so I’m going to just go through the main points. Is that okay with you?” Minerva asked, an unusual lilt to her voice.

“‘Course.”

She cleared her voice before looking down at the paper on her desk with rough notes,” Firstly, the event will be a joint contribution from both the ISU and DE. This means that the judge panel will consist of our usual judges, Alastor Moody, Benjy Fenwick and Edgar Bones,” she paused for a moment,” Additionally, there will be three judges from the DE on the panel – Corban Yaxley, Augustus Rookwood and Antonin Dolohov. “

James took the information in for a moment, remembering what Lily had said yesterday,” I suppose this means a lot of the rule changes are coming from the DE, then?”

Minerva grimaced, “ We can assume that, yes. Moving on, there has been a slight change to the score system. Technical points will be weighted more heavily than the program components, “ James’ eyes widened.

“This means they’ll be putting greater emphasis on flips, jumps and the sort over transitions, performance, composition and so forth.” And, oh. It was clear what the DE’s intentions were – to make skaters perform fatal jumps for the sake of entertainment. They wanted traumatic injuries, humiliation and an uproar from the media. 

And, fuck.

They were definitely expecting skaters to attempt the quad axel. No one had yet to attempt, let alone land , the axel in history. It was the most challenging of figure skating jumps in terms of rotations. A whole 4.5. Attempting it alone was worth a large sum of points, and James had no doubt that multiple skaters would be including it in their programs. 

A realisation dawned on him and James felt bile rising at the back of his throat – the only way to rank in the top three was to attempt the axel, too.

Minerva’s eyes softened slightly at the look of panic contorting James’ features, “ We’ll discuss your program later. Now, listen carefully. This final change is the most significant. Just like the previous years, you will start the games with a short program and then a free skate. However, this is where things have changed immensely and I just can’t seem to understand why they deemed it necessary because it just doesn’t make sense-”

“Please just- Just tell me,” James would have felt bad for cutting her off if he hadn’t felt the anxiety in his gut threatening to consume him.

Minerva exhaled deeply, “ Following the free skate, there won’t be another short program. Instead, all those participating in the Males and Females Singles will do a pair-skate.”

What. The. Fuck.

✰