Breaking James's Heart
It was like Regulus couldn't breathe, couldn't move, as James’s body hit the ground with a sickening thud. A deafening silence reigned over the pitch, everyone staring in wide-eyed terror at the motionless body sprawled in the grass. Both teams had paused, the snitch flying almost in circles around the Gryffindor seeker's uncaring head.
Several healers and the school nurse, a young Madam Pomfrey, hurried out to the scene and knelt by him. Even from the air, Regulus could see the terrified expressions on their pale faces.
No no no.
Regulus watched, his chest tight and his head oddly faint, as the healers clustered around the boy’s body for a few, drawn out minutes. The entire audience had gone silent, punctured by whispers, and possibly a sob. James was still. So, impossibly still.
Below Regulus, he faintly registered the scene of Sirius being held back by two Gryffindors as he struggled to run to James’s side. His shouts echoed across the pitch, the only sound in a sea of shocked faces.
Please be okay. Regulus prayed, looking up at the sky that was now covered in silvery clouds and threatening rain. He had never believed in God, his mother had considered muggle religions below them, but he found himself pleading to whatever was up there, in any desperate chance that there was something, to save James Potter.
Finally, after what felt to Regulus like years sitting stiffly on his broom, eyes fixed on the scene, one of the healers stood up with an undeniable expression of relief on her face. It was like the sun broke out, washing over Regulus and filling him with some strange warmth, when James Potter sat up with a slightly confused look on his face.
Clutching his head, but so wonderfully alive.
Something deep inside Regulus let out a breath it had been holding, every bone in his body screaming in overwhelming relief that made Regulus have to clutch his broom tightly to prevent himself from slipping off. James would smile again, would laugh and make dirty jokes and make Regulus’s heart flutter in strange ways. He was still here, Regulus hadn't lost him, too.
The audience broke out in chatter, everyone talking loudly at once as James was slowly lifted onto a stretcher that was floated out to the field.
James grinned a bit at the crowd, valiantly trying to seem unaffected, and on the ground Regulus saw Sirius toss his head to the sky and laugh giddily, his friends finally releasing him and smiling themselves. Remus Lupin, the tall, scarred blond, tackled Sirius in a hug before jumping back quickly, looking stunned at himself and awkward. James was carefully sitting up, grasping his lower back with one hand and wincing. Madam Pomfrey pushed him back down, tapping her wand once on his sternum. A look of relief passed over James's face, soothing some snarling monster deep inside Regulus that hated seeing the other boy in pain.
Regulus turned towards the Slytherin goalpost where Rudolphus was hovering, waiting for instruction, when he saw a bright, glittering ball only inches from his head.
It was the snitch.
Regulus remembered McNairs words: you better catch that snitch. Without pausing to think, he darted his arm out and grabbed the flickering ball, clutching it in his fingers. It beat its wings against his palm gently, trying to escape, and Regulus clutched it to his chest, his heart beating almost as fast as the snitch’s wings. He had won the game, but…
James was still on the ground, all the attention on him and the Gryffindor team, but suddenly, someone from the audience yelled:
“Slytherin’s got the snitch!”
Madam Hooch whipped her head around to where Regulus was floating, snitch still clutched in his hand. Her mouth was gaping, eyebrows pinched together.
“Slytherin did?” a faint voice said from the ground. Regulus looked down with a sinking heart.
“No, what bloody ass would catch the snitch now ?” James continued, looking bewildered and outraged. “It's against sportsmanship! it's unfair, dishonorable, it's--” his voice trailed off suddenly, for he had just looked to the sky and seen Regulus hovering, frozen, with the snitch glinting against his chest.
James’s face went from shocked, to hurt, to dark in a matter of seconds. Regulus wanted to say something, say anything, but all he could do was stare helplessly at James, feeling like he had shattered something priceless. James shook his head, tightening his jaw. His voice was like ice when he said:
“I should have known. Slytherins never play by the bloody rules, do they. They're all the same.”
It was as if Regulus had been actually stabbed.
No. He wanted to say. I didn't mean to . I'm so glad you’re okay.
The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released, but he breathed in sharply, forcing them back down. He didn't care what James Potter said, he told himself. Why would he care what the messy, hazel eyed Gryffindor boy thought of him?
But the pain seizing his heart said otherwise.
Regulus imagined ice spreading slowly over the pain, numbing it, smoothing it over. Creeping up his spine and into his head and heart and eyes, until he was solid and blank and unfeeling, floating like a statue under the eyes of the entire school.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle reluctantly.
“Because the game technically doesn't stop, even for injuries.” she cast a dirty look at Regulus, who closed his eyes against the urge to cry. “Slytherin did catch the snitch, making them the winners of the match, with a final score of 200-80.”
A halfhearted applause broke out in the audience, entirely from the Slytherin section, who were cheering wildly. But the sound couldn't cover the silence of the three other houses, all of which were standing stock still and glaring at the Slytherin team.
“Excellent job, Reg!” Rudolphus yelled, crashing into Regulus with a clap on the back. “Didn't know you had that in you.” Regulus tried to grin back.
“Guess you're a Slytherin to the core.” McNair joked as he flew over. “That was about as ambitious and merciless as ambition and mercilessness get.”
“And I love it.” Dolohov broke in, congratulating Regulus as well. Regulus breathed against the sinking misery washing over him.
Regulus glanced over his shoulder once, as the team was walking back to the changing room, shouting and singing in celebration. The Gryffindor team was huddled in the middle of the pitch, surrounding James protectively, all with angry expressions on their faces. James looked at him, and their eyes met in a single, painful second. Gray against hazel. James didn't even try to hide the hurt that flickered there. Unable to stand it, Regulus tore his gaze away and let himself be pulled along to the locker rooms, thinking of not the match, not the victory, but of the beautiful eyed boy slowly getting farther and farther away from him.