CHAPTER TWENTY
solace under the stands

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  COVE HAS BEEN ACTIVELY AVOIDING Remus for almost a week, going as far as to arrange spontaneous appointments with Madam Pomfrey so that she can steer clear of Care of Magical Creatures. Whenever she spots him in the corridors, she turns the other way and runs upstream through the oncoming torrents of students — her professors are beginning to grow sick of her late comings after the third day with a detour or two around the castle. She doesn't quite know what's come over her, but she's fairly certain that talking to him would inexplicably overwhelm her. Choosing between two of her worlds is less asphyxiating when she avoids the main problem in question at all costs.

This means that she's been dreading the upcoming Gryffindor vs Slytherin quidditch match, well aware that she'd see him cutting about in the stands at one point or another. Cove supposes that it's easier to avoid someone in a crowd, but the rest of the student body has no spacial awareness and it's like sardines trying to navigate anywhere, especially seeing as it's one of the bigger games of the season. If she runs into him once, trying to tear herself away may prove to be more difficult than she had imagined.

Eventually, Mary and Fallon manage to coax her out of hiding, dragging her down towards the pitch the second that she's stepped one foot out of the common room. They couldn't risk her getting all twitchy on them and running away. Not again.

"Oh, c'mon. It'll be fun!" Mary reassures.

"Yeah, you'll have the time of your life!" Fallon chimes in.

Cove grumbles something unintelligible.

  "That's the spirit!"

  It's not the most pleasant day to be playing quidditch, what with the overcast skies and spitting droplets of glacial rain. Her predictions of a storm came true the night before, the clouds erupting with lightning and battering against each other thunderously all the way through until dawn, leaving the grassy hills underfoot slick with mud. Just her luck, too, as it's coming on to rain once again. By the time they've actually reached the field, Cove's trousers are dirtied at the hems and she's really starting to reevaluate why she decided to come in the first place.

  The stands are full of students ranging from first year to seventh, overflowing onto the benches that are having to be magically multiplied to accommodate them all. It's an explosion of red against green, gold warring with silver as anticipation builds for the main event. Everyone's already beginning to grow restless, desperate to see the brawl for victory between the teams, especially since it always gets more violent than usual when it comes to Gryffindor-Slytherin matches. Who knew the student body could be so bloodthirsty?

It's just as the three of them are trying to push through to get good seats that Cove spots Remus heading in their direction with Peter at his side. He hasn't spotted her yet and she wracks her brain for a hiding place before it's too late, head whipping from left to right. Mary and Fallon shoot her two very concerned looks, continuing to chat amongst themselves as she spirals further into hysteria.

Cove panics, searching in every surrounding direction for somewhere to hide. She isn't ready to talk to him yet and she can't for the life of her explain why, that unexplainable feeling in her heart being integral to the explanation. Before she can properly register what she's doing, she has pulled back the scarlet tapestry hanging off the stands and ducks in between the wooden foundations, disappearing under the packed benches until the roaring sounds of the crowd are faded away behind the fabric that's acting as her invisibility cloak. She sighs as the burden of her worry fades, taking in the oaken skeleton of the quidditch stands above her head.

Dewdrops cling to her boots, the tall grass tickling her ankles through the cotton of her socks. It dawns on her that she's not alone under the stands a few seconds too late, and the shift in the air indicating another person is there has her heart dropping. She spins around to be met with an unfortunately familiar face, clad in an extremely pristine Slytherin quidditch uniform. His inky curls are erratic, sticking up since he's been running his hands through them relentlessly, and worry lines crease his regal features.

"Oh, great," Cove huffs. "It's you."

Regulus scowls. "What do you want?"

"This isn't your private property, Black," she says incredulously. "I have the right to be here just as much as you do."

He raises an eyebrow. "So, are you hiding from something as well?"

She wavers, watching him unsurely. "How did you know?"

"Why else would you be under the stands?" he snarks.

"Piss off." Cove turns her back to him, making a gap in the tapestry to peer outside and watch everyone that walks past. She spots Remus and Peter chatting to Mary, exhaling in relief seeing as she managed to get away in time.

She can feel Regulus staring at her. "You've got that look about you, as well," he explains, trying to break their silence. Maybe as a distraction from whatever's worrying him. "Like you're avoiding someone."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

  "Well, that depends," he says. "How hard would you hit me if I told the truth?"

Cove looks over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowing at the vague outline of a smile dancing upon his lips. He's trying to wind her up on purpose.

"You're such a cunt," she cavils. "What are you hiding from, though?"

He paces back and forth, the grass eroding beneath his heavy boots. The hem of his emerald robes are trailing through the mud, dirtied by grass stains and flecks of earth. She's just surprised that he doesn't seem to care.

"I'm nervous about the game," Regulus admits. She sees a crack of vulnerability through his strong façade, though it's immediately mended and replaced by his ever harshening glare. "What? Stop looking at me as if I've grown two heads."

On the other hand, Cove's expression softens. "It's okay to be nervous. Why don't you just talk to someone else on your team about it? I'm sure they'd understand."

"No, they wouldn't," he says gravely. "You don't know them, Henderson. I can't show any weakness in front of those vultures, they thrive off of other people's flaws like that. They're expecting me to win this match for them and if I don't, then they'll tear into me."

The desperation seeping into his voice makes it clear that he's been dying to talk to someone about his worries. She faces him again, listening more attentively to what he has to say at the blatant distress layered atop his words. Even if he doesn't know it himself, she can tell that he just needs to let it all out.

Cove inches closer, feeling as though she's approaching a wounded animal. "You can always talk to me about it, you know. I won't judge you for anything."

"I barely know you. Why should I?"

"Because what do you really have to lose in talking to me about it?" she asks. "I only want to help, and it sounds like your teammates are putting a lot of pressure on you. I think you could use that help."

He crosses his arms across his chest defensively, shifting his weight between his left foot and his right. Regulus nods, a tiny thing that could easily have been missed if she wasn't paying attention. He won't look at her when he's speaking and opts for glaring at the ground like he's trying to set it aflame with his mind alone.

"They already expect a lot of me," he says, rubbing his temples to soothe the aching. "If I miss one match, or slip up and let the other team win, I get absolutely crucified for it. As if I'm the only person on the team! That's why I'm under here in the first place. I'm trying to avoid the shouting match Flint always ropes me into before every match. Honestly, I don't even like quidditch that much anymore."

Cove gasps. "Criminal. They should lock you up for that."

He rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

"Seriously, though, you're an amazing player. You need to patch the pricks on your team that try to convince you otherwise. If they try to put you down over something as daft as a sport, they're not worth your time."

He looks as if he has something he wants to tell her, but he stops himself at the last minute. There's a loose thread unravelling at his sleeve that he picks at, pulling the deep green fabric down securely over his wrist. Cove doesn't blame him — it's absolutely freezing.

  They hear the commotion of the crowd as the game draws closer to beginning, the commentator's amplified voice booming across the entire field with an accompaniment of fuzzy static. Cove smiles encouragingly.

  "I think that's your cue," she tells him. "Good luck, Black."

  "I'll need it," Regulus mutters miserably.

"Ach, don't you dare say that," she scolds, sounding worryingly like her grandmother. "You're the best seeker that Slytherin's ever seen, I reckon."

He can't help his grin. "If I lose, I'm blaming it on you for letting my expectations get so high."

Cove scoffs, beginning to usher him out from underneath the stands. "You're gonna be late. Rapid speed, Regulus, rapid speed!"

That little interaction between them makes her cheer all the more louder when he catches the snitch, her heart warming when be searches for her in the crowd as if to say 'you were right!', his smile the purest it's been in years. She had been so preoccupied with anticipating his win that she hadn't worried herself over seeing Remus during the match and got completely absorbed in the game, which really isn't a common occurrence.

Maybe Regulus Black isn't the most obvious person in the world for Cove to befriend, but she supposes that you really do find friendship blossoming in the funniest places.

author's note!

therapy sessions w cove

sorry for patching remus all chapter i have angsty things planned for them next chapter xoxox