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Summary
He’s not threatened by the other team, and certainly not by the team captain, James Potter. Seeing him sat up in the rafters, flanked by his parents, eyes focused on Regulus’ warm-up game with his team, did not concern him. Sure, the hockey world was up in smoke at the prospect of them facing off against each other, but Regulus didn’t see the appeal.
Even Moscow wasn’t far enough away to escape the bastard's name. James Potter is so talented, James Potter is going to be drafted number one, James Potter is so perfect.
It wasn’t enough that the fucker had stolen his brother without so much as a note left behind, but he had to encroach into his world. His game. His escape. Potter had good scores, fast hands. But he wasn’t better than Regulus. Nobody was. Not at this.
“You’re not supposed to smoke over here.”
Regulus’ neck snapped up.
Or, the Jegulus Heated Rivalry fic that nobody asked for but I have been obsessing over for awhile.
