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The pitch was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came late at night when everyone else was back in their common rooms. Regulus Black was determined to use the time to practice alone, away from the distractions and chatter of his teammates. He was working on sharp turns and dives when a faint sound caught his attention.
Landing softly, he dismounted his broom, scanning the shadows. His grip tightened on his wand, suspicious of someone sneaking around. Just as he turned, a hand touched his shoulder.
Without hesitation, Regulus spun, wand out, and pressed it firmly to the neck of—James Potter.
James stood there, grinning like a cat caught in cream, his hands raised in surrender. “Whoa there, baby Black. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Regulus glared at him, though the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his annoyance. “You shouldn’t be here, Potter. What do you want?”
James leaned casually against the nearest goalpost, unfazed by the wand still pointed at him. “Just checking in on my favorite Slytherin,” he teased. “Practicing this late, huh? Someone’s getting ready to wipe the pitch with Gryffindor.”
“It’s none of your business,” Regulus retorted, stepping back but keeping his wand in hand.
James smirked and, with a swift motion, had Regulus gently pinned against the goalpost. Regulus tried to look indignant, pressing the wand harder against James’ neck, but James only leaned closer, his grin widening.
“Tell you what,” James said, voice low and teasing. “Let’s make this interesting. If Gryffindor wins, you go on a date with me.”
Regulus’ breath hitched, and he cursed internally at how easily James made his heart race. “And if Slytherin wins?” he countered, trying to sound unimpressed.
James’ eyes gleamed as he leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Regulus’ ear. “Then you can have whatever you want, love. Name it, and it’s yours.”
Regulus swallowed hard, hating how his cheeks betrayed him by turning bright red. He tilted his chin up defiantly. “You’re going to lose, Potter. I’m better than you.”
James laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down Regulus’ spine. He reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Regulus’ ear with a gentleness that contradicted his cocky demeanor.
“I know, Reggie,” James murmured, his voice soft but confident. “That’s why I like you so much.”
Regulus tried to glare, but the intensity of James’ gaze made his resolve falter. With a sharp shove, he pushed James away and grabbed his broom. “We’ll see who’s laughing after the game, Potter.”
James watched him mount the broom and fly off, a satisfied grin on his face. “Can’t wait, baby Black,” he called after him, his heart already racing at the thought of winning—or maybe even losing. Either way, Regulus was worth it.