INEVITABLE | JEGULUS

three

    The weekend seemed to come in a flash for Regulus, having been mostly in his dorm the days before, writing down notes and planning. The few times that he had came out of his dorm was usually to have breakfast or take walks to pass the time. He wasn't exactly looking forward to classes Monday but they are good source of distraction and a break from his dorm.

    He used to paint to use up time, which may come to a surprise to some considering his cold nature, but he hadn't hadn't done it in years. His parents didn't consider it manly and would much rather have him focus his time on quidditch.

    Of course, he said that he agreed with them and ditched his old hobby in the beginning of year four.

    Quidditch season didn't actually start back up until later in the season but Regulus decided to head down to the pitch early in the morning on Sunday to practice, a little bored of writing all week, not to mention that another match would be occurring soon and he had to be practiced well.

    Regulus is the Slytherin teams seeker, and their only seeker since he entered his second year. He didn't like to flex his talent, but he couldn't lie and say it wasn't there.

    The locker room was, as expected, empty when Regulus entered and smelled better than ever from the cold wind airing it out over break from the sweat of the last match.

    His shoes clacked against the ground as he stepped to his quidditch locker at the back left corner of the room and swung the metal door open.

Regulus grey eyes examined the familiar locker and softened ever so slightly. It didn't contain much, merely his quidditch jacket and random cleaning supplies for his broom, but it was a reminder that he had a place somewhere. And that thought was comforting.

He didn't necessarily need to wear his jacket, considering it's not an actual practice nor game, but he still grabbed it out of the locker and placed it momentarily onto the bench behind him. He proceeded to empty his pockets, consisting of his wand and his brothers wand he had yet to return, taking off his robe, then stacking them into his locker before shutting the metal door.

    Regulus grabbed his quidditch jacket as he passed it on his way across the room and slipped it over his head—leaving him in the pullover along with his pants and shirt that he was required to wear under his robes, finished off by his tie laying under the jacket. As he walked, he was glad for the warmed spell they had put on the quidditch jackets in advance.

Once he reached the door on the opposite of the room, he pulled it open to reveal the teams broom closet. The brooms all appeared very similar but Regulus was smart enough last season to carve his initials into the wood of the handle—making it so that he was able to find it within seconds by looking at the tops.

He closed to door to the closet with his broom, the Nimbus 1000, in hand before finally exiting the locker room and onto the snow-covered grass pitch.

     The wind blew Regulus's hair as he walked across the field and, annoyed, he had to move it out of his face every few seconds with his unoccupied hand.

    Eventually, he did reach the center of the quidditch pitch and positioned his broom under him—taking a little longer then usual to get situated due to his lack of practice.

    Once he was fully ready, he shot into the air without hesitation.

    It had been so long since Regulus rode his broom that he forgot just how thrilling it was.

    The rush exhilarated him as he flew higher and higher into the air, the new wind blowing his hair behind him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his hands tightened on his broom handle as swerved sideways to start his first lap around the pitch, his face forming until a very faint smile.