slap, april 5 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 971 words
feat. regulus being distracted by james at quidditch. i mean, who can blame him?
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The only thing on Regulus’ mind is that Gryffindor cannot win this match. He doesn’t care if they win against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw later on; it’s just that Regulus absolutely refuses to lose to James Potter of all people.
Lurking on the edge of the quidditch pitch, Regulus watches the game play out below him, scanning the area for any glimpse of that shiny gold ball whizzing through the air. But all he sees are the red and green colours of the quidditch uniforms as the Gryffindors and Slytherins dart about, accompanied by the blurs of whizzing bludgers, hit by beaters, and the quaffle passing between hands. No sign of the snitch at all.
Gritting his teeth, Regulus sits back on his broom, trying not to get irritated as Remus Lupin, his brother’s boyfriend and Potter’s friend, calls out another score for the Gryffindor team. He glances at Barty, who’s expression is thunderous, offended at the applause that erupts from the Gryffindor stands, beater bat clenched tight in his hands.
And then his eyes latch on Potter, who’s positively grinning, because Regulus has no doubt that he was the one to score that goal. Regulus wants to slap that smirk off his face. He hates it—how James practically radiates cockiness, arrogance, superiority; how a slight curve to his mouth in Regulus’ general direction makes Regulus lose his train of thought, simply as if the tracks his train was running on hadn’t been built yet; how, and he’s convinced about this, James does it more because he knows the effect it has on people.
Regulus, as much as he’d like to be, and tries so hard to be, is not immune to James Potter’s charm.
Barty’s teased him for it multiple times, from knocking the handle of his broom against Regulus’ if he’s been staring too long whilst they’re waiting for the field to be free, to making comments about James’ body under the quidditch uniforms, sly smile on his lips as Regulus glares at him. It’s uncalled for.
Speaking of Barty—below, he whacks a bludger with such force that the crack resonates throughout the pitch. It goes whizzing toward a Gryffindor chaser, who’s soaring determinedly toward the Slytherin goal post, clipping the back of her broom, causing her to drop the quaffle. A resounding cheer comes from the Slytherins.
“Looking for the snitch, Black?”
Startled, Regulus whips his head to the side, scowling when he notices James gliding up next to him. He flies so easily, almost as if it’s no effort for him. To be honest, Regulus thinks he flies the same, but seeing Potter do it, too, is annoying.
“Shouldn’t you be scoring, Potter?” he bites out, looking away before James can dazzle him with that stupid, idiotic, infuriatingly sexy smile.
“I think we’ve got it until control,” he says confidently. “You seem to be, unfortunately, on the losing side.”
Regulus rolls his eyes, snapping, “And you think that automatically means you’re going to win, do you?”
“You tell me,” comes James’ smug reply.
Still scowling, Regulus looks back at him over his shoulder, giving the Gryffindor chaser a once-over, before raising unimpressed eyes back to James’ face, where a—for fuck’s sake—smile is twitching against his lips. Against his permission, Regulus feels himself getting hot, a flush creeping up the back of his neck.
If he could strangle his broom, Regulus’ would be dead with how angrily he’s gripping it, his knuckles white like he’s holding on for dear life.
A loud cheer from the Slytherin stands eclipses Remus’ voice as he announces, “10 points to Slytherin.”
Regulus smiles triumphantly. “Well now we’re even.”
“For now,” James replies, and for a second, his gaze flicks only slightly to the right of Regulus’ ear, before it snaps back to his eyes. “You still haven’t found the snitch.”
“Neither has your seeker,” Regulus retorts. “So you’re really not as far ahead as you think—”
“Black!” someone screams, a loud, frustrated scream, and Regulus flinches, almost falling off his broom. He steadies himself just at the right time, breathing heavily. James, seeing Regulus is alright, straightens on his broom, as if he were going to try and grab Regulus before he fell.
Giving him a weird look, Regulus peers down to where Barty is, because it was his voice that was calling at him. “What?” he screams back.
His best friend is waving his arms frantically and pointing, and Regulus squints at him. If he starts to make fun of him and Potter together …
Then he hears it. A low, flickering sound, and immediately, he swerves to track it. Blazing like a small sun, Regulus spots the snitch hovering behind him on his right, its delicate filigree wings fluttering.
But just as he’s seen it, it’s off again, and Regulus stares after it, momentarily frozen. Until the red and gold robes of the Gryffindor seeker zooms past him, and he snarls, giving chase. He thinks he hears James laugh behind him, but he’s not sure.
“Looks like the two seekers have found the snitch,” Remus declares. “It’s going to be a tense battle to who wins the game. James, I think I speak for the whole of Gryffindor house when I say you should’ve distracted Regulus more.”
A roar of laughter meets Regulus’ ears from the stands, and his gaze darkens. He vows, as he and the Gryffindor seeker close in on the snitch, to never let James Potter’s smile distract him again, especially during a quidditch game.
Naturally, of course, it does. Even stars in space can’t compete against the light of the sun forever.
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