#Logan tremplay

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather

Warmings in notes

part xiv

Gryffindor, 2015

Behind the blinding flashes of cameras, from up on the stage, behind the press table, and within the circle of microphones, Sirius could only see his mother’s face.

This was not what someone was suppose to feel like when they were drafted to the NHL.

This was not what someone was suppose to feel like when they looked at their mother.

Sirius took a small sip of water from the bottle provided.

“Sirius,” a reporter said. “How did your father, legendary player for the Slytherin Snakes, Orion Black, react to you getting drafted to his rival team?”

His mother’s mouth was pursed and cold at that. He knew what her eyes were telling him.

Renounce the draft. Refuse.

On the other side of the room, a few of the Lions players were watching. James Potter. Kasey Winter. Pascal Dumais, who he was set to be living with starting tonight. James smiled when they made eye contact. Kasey looked unfazed. Pascal was standing tall with his arms crossed. Sirius liked Pascal. He liked Celeste. He could tell they hadn’t thought much of his mother. There was another boy standing near them, too. He had an open face, and a training staff jacket on. He had his hands in his pockets and was looking at Sirius with a mixture of surprise and—Sirius thought maybe concern. Sirius didn’t like people to be concerned about him. He looked away.

“He’s my father first. A player second,” Sirius finally replied to the question.

It was such a lie. It tasted like ash in his mouth.

“Do you two talk about the end of your father’s career?”

Sirius stared down at the reporter, who looked back for a moment before shrinking away against his seat. Sirius knew what he looked like. Intense eyes, good for the ice, bad for people. Good for pissing off his parents. The twins of his brother’s.

“No,” Sirius said plainly.

There was a long, awkward pause as the room waited for Sirius to continue. He didn’t.

“Sirius, you’ve been considered a prodigy since you were very young, you must have thought about what team you would like to go to. How do the Lions fair against all those dreams?”

Sirius’ saw his mother take a step away from the wall. She had her hair pulled back loosely from her face, dark curls around her eyes that cast strange shadows in the bright press room lights.

Refuse.

How could he? Who did that?

It wasn’t like he was going home. Pascal certainly wasn’t going to hit him. At least, he didn’t think so.

“I’m honored to be considered,” Sirius said as neutrally as he could.

Someone stepped forward and waved the press away. Sirius stood up from the table, grabbing one of the tiny water bottles from it. He drained the entire thing in about two seconds flat. It had been a long day so far, and it was only ten in the morning.

“Sirius,” a woman with a Lions badge around her neck came up to him. She had introduced herself as Alice earlier. “So, we’ll get you going into the locker room, a few pictures in your stall, and then everyone’s got practice, so…” she smiled. “Pretty normal from there.”

“Okay,” Sirius nodded.

“Just try and relax into it a little,” she said hesitantly. “This can’t be the first time you’ve seen this many cameras.”

He wanted to laugh. He wished it were the cameras making him nervous.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll be better.”

“No, no,” she said hurriedly, eyebrows drawing together. “You’re doing wonderfully, absolutely wonderfully.”

Sirius blinked. “Oh.”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. Now, c’mon, let’s see you in that Lions jersey again! I was so damn happy when they called your name, you know.”

“Oh,” Sirius said again as they walked across the room. He glanced up, but the players had disappeared, along with the boy. “Thank you.”

She laughed. “Thank you. With your dedication, who knows what’s possible! Knock on wood, of course,” she winked and he smiled at her reference to one of his many superstitions.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We have that bread brand you like for your pre-game sandwich.”

“How do you…” Sirius realized. “Minerva.”

“That agent of yours is one hell of a woman,” Alice said, and she sounded thoroughly pleased—maybe proud even.

“Minnie’s really great,” Sirius said. He really didn’t know how he would have survived everything without her. She knew his parents’ ways. She did her best to protect him. It wasn’t always enough, but he was thankful for it all the same.

They rounded the corner and Sirius felt his own steps slow.

“Alright,” Alice grinned, and stopped too. She looked from him, to the closed locker room doors, and back. “Ready?”

“Are the press already in there, or…”

“Yes, they go in through a different entrance,” Alice cocked her head. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Sirius said quickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“No more questions,” she assured him. “Just pictures. You just have to pose in front of your new stall, put your jersey on, and—”

Sirius smelled his mother coming up behind him before he saw her. He hated her perfume. He didn’t even know what it was. Something sickly sweet. Something floral. It made his throat closed.

He felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Pardon,” she said. “Hello, how are you?”

Alice smiled. “Mrs. Black—”

“May I have a word with my son before he joins his teammates?”

“Oh,” Alice looked towards the door again. “Well, I don’t see why—”

“Sirius,” came another, almost sing-song voice, and suddenly Pascal Dumais was there, hand sliding easily around Sirius’ shoulder, easing his mother’s away. His smile was broad, eyes crinkled. “C’est bon?”

“Hi, Dumo,” Sirius said breathlessly. He glanced at his mother, and then wished he hadn’t.

“We’ll go in now, non?” Pascal reached out and took Sirius’ mother hand between his own in a caress. “We are very happy to have your son, Madam. We will take good care of him.”

Mrs. Black looked on with an open mouth. “I—”

“Will we see you at the opening game of the season?”

“Well—”

“Pity,” Pascal laughed brightly, then patted Sirius’ back. “Allez, mon fils.”

My son, Dumo had called him.

Sirius was two steps from the door, Pascal’s warm palm gentle between his shoulders, when a colder hand closed around his wrist and he was yanked backwards harshly. He let her do it.

“You remember what we talked about,” his mother hissed at him, gray eyes hard and flicking to Pascal, who was standing very close, smile gone, hazel eyes firm on her. “Do not make any mistakes. Do not.”

Sirius began to take a step back, and her hand tightened. He let it.

“Oui, maman,” Sirius said softly.

“The press is waiting,” Pascal said in a clipped tone to Mrs. Black, and then, much more softly to Sirius. “Your team is waiting for you.”

Pascal turned Sirius towards the locker room, the two doors meeting to form the large Lions logo, a dark red and gold.

Sirius’ team.

The one his father had thrown his wine glass over the night they found out that the Lions had received the first pick of the first round in the draft. The team his little brother had bought a hat for, sneaking in Sirius’ room to show him late that night. They hadn’t really spoken since.

Sirius spared one last, brief thought to Regulus, but pushed it away. Regulus was too obedient to be in any danger.

“You do the honors,” Pascal said. “Allez, go on.”

Sirius pushed the doors open.

The locker room was large and round, exactly what Sirius was used to, and not at all. In this locker room, his mother couldn’t follow him in. He wasn’t going to be hated for being the best. Jealousy was less of a problem. They were already in the NHL.

“Hey, Mr. Prodigy!”

Sirius looked up and James Potter, half dressed in his hockey pants, was walking towards him with a wide smile, glasses still on and hand out. He stopped in front of Sirius and Pascal.

“James Potter,” he said when Sirius shook his hand, only to be pulled into a half hug and slapped on the back. “I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sirius said, trying on a smile as a camera flashed, catching the moment.

James hesitated, smile flickering, but he swept his hand out towards where Sirius saw that their stalls were beside each other.

“Neighbors, eh?”

“Guess so,” Sirius said.

He looked at Alice, who nodded, and so Sirius took his jersey from its hanger. He held it for a moment. The maroon was deep and soft, and the golden lion stood out against the black piping. Two gold stripes flashed on the sleeves as Sirius spun it around to get a look at his name and number. They was there, in black figures, bold and real.

Sirius was a Lion. He belonged to Gryffindor now, at least for a little while, no matter how anyone felt about it.

He pulled the jersey over his head, and let the cameras flash.

It felt a little better and a little worse when the press went away. Better, because this was normal. Sirius knew the routine of practice, of listening to the coach. Worse, because Sirius didn’t know these guys. He wasn’t allowed to know these guys.

Renounce the draft. Refuse.

“Excuse me, Sirius?”

Sirius looked up from where he had just begun to lace up his left skate.

The boy in the team jacket was there again, soft smile and sandy hair, strong shoulders and chest. If not for the jacket, Sirius would have wondered which teammate he was, and how he hadn’t recognize his face. He’d poured over the Lions roster one million and one times.

“Hey,” the boy held out his hand. “I just wanted to introduce myself real quick before you get out there. I’m Remus, Remus Lupin, I’m a trainer here and on the PT staff.”

Sirius nodded slowly. Remus Lupin had pale skin, a few freckles, and tawny eyes. Sirius felt a familiar, startling tug in his chest, and pushed back on it so hard, so quickly, he thought he’d snap. It left him breathless. Remus smiled again, and Sirius heart pushed forward harder.

Remus Lupin wasn’t a trainer. For Sirius, he was dangerous.

Sirius closed off his expression further, and took the hand only for a moment. “Hi.”

It seemed to do the trick. Remus’ smile faltered and he took a step back. “Um. Yeah, okay. Just let me know, alright? If you need anything.”

“I will,” Sirius said, and looked back down.

He thought he heard some murmurs from beside him at that. Which was fine. They could hate him. They could think he was an ass. He wasn’t going to be here that long anyways.

Even if he wanted to be.

~

Gryffindor, 2016

“I want to stay,” Sirius said, clutching the arms of the chair in Coach’s office. “I want to stay.”

McGonagall, sitting beside him, laced her fingers over her dark tartan skirt. “My client has spoken, I believe. What protections are you prepared to put in place?”

Arthur and Alice looked at each other.

“Protections?” Arthur said. “Well, there’s already a trade restriction clause in there,” he tapped the contract on the table, “but…”

Alice bit her lip as she looked at Sirius. This boy who was barely nineteen, knuckles white. This talented boy who she had barely seen smile. She thought of the cold woman who had gripped Sirius’ wrist on his first day as a Lion. Make no mistakes, she had hissed.

“I believe…” Alice took a breath. “Minnie is referring to Sirius’ wish—”

“I mean publicity,” Minnie said. “A very hard field to control, I am aware, however—should there be sources that say things contradicting what Sirius has said in this room…”

I want to stay.

“Our players come first in Gryffindor,” Alice said firmly.

Minnie leaned forward. “I thank you for that Alice. I really do. But this is a…delicate matter. We all heard what Sirius said, that he wishes to be a Lion, however, there are people who cannot, as of right now, know that he has said this. I am asking you to protect his decision. I am asking you to support his decision while—”

“While not flashing that he made it,” Alice said slowly. She looked at Sirius again. He was looking down, entire body tense as his phone lit up from where it was on the table. It had done that four times, just in the last twenty minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius murmured, and declined the call. He had a thick accent, stumbling over the English he wasn’t quite used to speaking all the time.

Maman, the contact had said, again and again.

“We can do that,” Arthur said, looking at Alice, and nodding at Minnie. “No one will blink twice at us wanting to keep the best player in the League. Even if Sirius was requesting a trade, he’s fresh out of his rookie year, players need to earn the right to make calls like that.”

“Exactly,” Alice agreed. “This is just as much about locker room and team etiquette as it is about PR and media. And that’s good for us. For all of us. Everyone can feel very secure about staying right where they want to be.”

She probably sounded like she was babying him, saying it so blatantly like that, but it didn’t matter to Alice when Sirius blinked up at her with his pale eyes and smiled, just a little.

They all looked up when there was a commotion from outside. A shrill voice was speaking, words unintelligible through the walls, but Sirius stood so fast he nearly knocked his chair over.

“Minnie,” he whispered. “Elle est là?”

McGonagall stood, too, just as the door blew open.

Sirius’ mother stood there, hair casting curled shadows on her high cheeks. Sirius watched as she took in the scene in front of her. Sirius, Minnie, Alice, and Coach. Already, Sirius’ breathing was coming faster. Old bruises, long faded, began to ache. His stomach seized up and rebelled.

“What’s going on here?” Mrs. Black demanded.

“A meeting, Walburga,” Minnie exhaustedly.

“I was not informed,” she snapped, and then turned her eyes on Sirius. “I have been calling you.”

“Mrs. Black,” Alice said cooly. “Your son is nineteen years of age now. You are not required to be present—”

“Shut up,” Mrs. Black snapped, and turned on McGonagall. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I am working with my client,” Minnie took a step forward. The two women were identical in height.

“The trade, then?” Mrs. Black said, and turned back on Alice. “Is it done?”

“No,” Coach Arthur said. “We will not be trading Sirius. Now, ma’am, I’m not sure how you got in here—”

“C’est ordure!” Mrs. Black shrieked. “Sirius. Do what I say.”

Sirius was—embarrassed. Shame coated the inside of his mouth like tar. He should comply, just to get her to leave, to get her to stop yelling.

“Your son is doing exactly what you want,” Alice said, and even matched her tone to sound regrettable, even annoyed. “Why he would want—why either of you would want him to be traded away from one of the leading teams in the League—”

“Cheaters,” Mrs. Black snarled. “Dirty play, you mean.”

“—is beyond me,” Alice pushed on. “But, unfortunately, your son doesn’t have as much power here as either of you think he does.”

Sirius stared at Alice. She was doing it. She was getting him out. She was letting him stay.

Mrs. Black was staring, too. “My son is the best player in the League.”

Arthur laughed. “And so, why would we let him go? Now,” Arthur stood. “I am going to ask you to leave one more time, otherwise I will have security escort you out. This is a private meeting that does not concern you.”

“I am his mother!”

“That means nothing here, Walburga,” Minnie said, smoothing her skirt and sitting back down.

“This is a trick,” Walburga sneered, and walked forward to Sirius. She grabbed his hair, tightly, nails digging into his scalp. “You think you can trick me, mon regret?”

Sirius closed his eyes. My regret. The shame was bile, now. He wished for anything, anything good. He wished to stay, he wished for his team to want him, he wished for anyone to want him. He wished.

“Mrs. Black, get your hands off of my player,” Arthur boomed.

Sirius didn’t know how officers got into the room, but then his mother was yelling in French, ripping her arms out of their grasps as she walked with a high, stiff neck out of the office, the door slamming behind her.

Sirius could still feel them, her fingers, digging into his neck.

“Sirius?”

It was Alice’s soft voice. Sirius opened his eyes and looked up. He hadn’t realized they were still closed.

“Are you okay?”

Minnie patted his hand carefully, knowing he wouldn’t want to be touched. “She’s gone now, my boy.”

“I’m okay,” Sirius managed. He looked around at them all. “Thank you. Thank you, I…”

“Of course,” Arthur said. He was a little wide-eyed. Sometimes Sirius forgot that, to most of the world, that wasn’t normal.

“Well,” Minnie said into the silence. “If that’s settled…”

Sirius sunk back down into the chair. He felt like he had skated three straight periods, double shifts.

“Actually,” Arthur said, clearing his throat and sitting. “There is one more matter I’d like to discuss. Well, more of a question, really.”

Sirius looked up, dread turning over in his stomach all over again. But Arthur was smiling at him gently.

“I’ve talked to some of our key team and staff members. Dumo, Pots, Sergei. Even our rookie O’Hara had something to say, but when doesn’t he? And me and the coaching team have put lots of thought into this, too. Sirius, you’re a leader on the ice. You make our boys better. You’re very kind, and a steady presence in the locker room, if not…reserved,” Arthur laughed a little. “Well I hope that will change a little now that…” his eyes went to the door that Mrs. Black had stormed out through. “Now that you are able to really feel safe and a part of our organization.”

Safe, Sirius thought. He couldn’t even fathom it.

Arthur leaned forward.

“Sirius, we want you to be our captain.”

~

Gryffindor, 2017

They were playing the Penguins. Sirius was still getting used to the C stitched onto his jersey.

The game was going to overtime. Crosby and Letang wasn’t letting anyone close enough to Murray to get anything done. Sirius was exhausted, but shook his head when Coach motioned to pull him in during a break for out of play. He wanted to end this. James stayed out, too, and Brady switched for Sergei.

“Let’s go, eh, Crosby?” Sirius popped his mouth guard back in and leaned over for the face off.

Crosby didn’t reply, eyes already on the puck.

Sirius won it. He knocked it back to James, and then shot forward, yelling for it back. Sergei checked Malkin hard, both of the spitting at each other in Russian, but at least it got him out of the way. There was a clear channel for James, and then the puck was back on Sirius’ tape.

Crosby loomed in front of him, stick long with his strong reach, but Sirius dodged. Murray was probably too far away still for any good chance, but the clock had seven seconds on it and damn it if Sirius was about to go to a shoot out. He took the shot.

He could almost feel it hit the back of the net. Before he was thinking about what he was doing, his arms were up, stick in the air. He heard James yell. It wasn’t until he saw that James was smiling, that Sirius realized he was smiling, too. So hard that his cheeks hurt. He watched James slow down as he neared him, all too used to the lesser celebrations that he thought Sirius preferred.

“Fuck yeah, Cap!” James shouted, smile wide. He was still a few strides away. Sirius’ heart was racing a mile a minute. The goal felt—different. It was just a goal, just one game, but Sirius…he wanted his team. He wanted James, his friend.

Sirius grinned back at James and held out his arm. It was better than the goal, watching James’ face drop in surprise, and then light up again.

To anyone else it would have seemed like a split-second of a moment.

James took the last few feet to dig his skates in, one, two, three, four, and slammed into Sirius against the boards, knocking their helmets together. Sergei came in on the other side, looking more surprised, but smiling.

“Very nice, Mr. Black,” he said.

“Thanks,” Sirius said breathlessly.

James held on a little longer as they skated over to the bench, but let go to bump gloves down the line.

The boys started piling out of the boards to celebrate the win.  Sirius received a very loud kiss on the side of his helmet from Pascal.

“Bravo, mon fils,” he said softly, eyes bright.

Coach slapped him on the back, smiling as they filed off the ice. “Atta boy, kid.”

Sirius was about to disappear down the tunnel when a soft voice stopped him.

“Good game, Sirius.”

Sirius stopped, eyes falling on Remus and his own bright smile. It sent the same bubbling heat through Sirius’ heart as it always did. Logan was tapping him on the shoulder, telling him to keep moving, and so Sirius used the excuse of pushing a stick up towards one of the little kids leaning over the tunnel entrance. Just to look at Remus a little longer, in the bright lights of the ice.

“Merci, Fruit-Loop,” Sirius replied, and walked down the dim tunnel still grinning.

~

Gryffindor, 2018

“Snape’s been eye fucking you all game, eh?” James had said in the first period, a distant memory now. “We should keep an eye on him.”

Sirius had waved him off with sarcastic replies. Well, I’m pretty. Dirty snakes, nothing new.

“Don’t move, Sirius,” the doctor was saying now. The crowd was nearly silent. It was eerie and strange. Players milled about on the ice, the Snakes keeping their distance for once. Second period, ten minutes left on the clock.

The pain was radiating from Sirius’ leg like nothing he’d ever felt. He was dimly aware of his blood pooling on the ice, the grotesque look of his white bone against the white ice, sticking through his skin. He was breathing too hard to be normal, sweating. James was crouched by his head, gripping his hand and shoulder. James’ knuckles were bloody and bruised, a sight that must match Snape’s cheek.

“It’s a bad break, alright?” the doctor said. "We’re getting you the stretcher now. Try to breathe.”

But Sirius was only half listening. Staring straight ahead, all he could focus on were the wide, amber eyes gazing back at him. Remus. It was all he could do to keep from screaming. He kept looking at his face. He didn’t know exactly why it calmed him so much, why he suddenly wanted to keep it in sight more than he wanted morphine. Remus had his hand pressed against his throat, eyes darting between Sirius’. Maybe Sirius could tell him he wanted him right now, and pass it off as pain induced delirium.

Sirius bit out answers to the doctor on autopilot.

Yes. No. Dizzy. Numb. Ten. He was used to pain. But not this.

“Was it him?” Sirius said through his grit teeth to James. He kept his eyes on Remus, Remus who wasn’t looking away. Remus who was good, who healed, who helped.

“Yes, the fucking—” James said back. “Fuck, Sirius, fuck.”

The lift onto the stretcher felt like a whip. His father’s rings slicing his cheek. His mother’s nails. The bruises, the aches. Remus disappeared from view as he was placed on his back to be taken down through the tunnel.

Snape loomed up at the edge of the ice, black hair stringy with sweat. He gave nothing away. There was no apology. There was nothing.

Sirius had thought he was safe. But he should have known better.

The hits always came.

~

Gryffindor, 2020

Sirius let a lot of people do a lot of things to him. He let them make decisions for him. There was someone who decided what were the best foods for him to eat. What were the best ways to phrase his sentences. The best people for him to be seen with, and when. And those were people who were trying to help him. Who did help him. He was thankful to them, willing to give up a little control.

His mother. His mother had always been a different story. The control had been less control, and more restriction. Punishment. Less sleep, less food, more hours in the weight room. Sirius still caught himself at it sometimes. He’d have a bad game and find his entire appetite gone.

Sirius looked down at the sandwich on the counter, untouched.

The ice. The ice was different. It was only on the ice where no one had control except him. He called the shots, he wore the C. He helped his teammates, and his teammates helped him. There was no punishment for a bad game on the ice. There was support. There was next time.

This wasn’t the ice. This wasn’t anything he’d experienced at all. This wasn’t any help to anyone. This was out of a nightmare, one that he’d been having since he was thirteen, realizing he liked a teammate’s chest and smile more than any of the porn that got passed around, the girls that pressed up against him at parties.

Remus.

Sirius took a shaky breath in, pressing his palms to the cold marble counter.

Remus wasn’t a system, or a test, or a game-plan. Remus didn’t want him for what he could or couldn’t do. Remus didn’t punish him.

So, how on earth could he have been so selfish as to punish Remus? To take away so much from him.

Sirius had arrived at Hogwarts hours early, just to avoid anyone. He didn’t know how long James had knocked on his door last night. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He didn’t know how many calls he had received, from anyone. He hadn’t checked.

He looked up at Remus, sitting across the table from him and looking down.

The hits always came.

The look on Remus’ face hit Sirius square in the chest.

This was old panic. Sirius knew that. It was the residue of things that had been ingrained into him for his entire life. But he couldn’t stop it. He had thought he was prepared now. Better now. Yet, here he was, frozen. Unable to even take a step towards the person he wanted the most. They sat in silence.

“Okay,” Alice said softly when her and Coach Weasley sat down at the table with the two of them. “Sirius, we know you have a plane to catch, and we don’t have too much time, but…let’s do our best, okay?”

She looked between the two of them. “How are you both doing? Would you like some tea or coffee? I know this is…this is…”

“Who took them?” Sirius said. “The pictures.”

“We’re not sure,” Alice replied. “A passerby maybe. Someone else in Remus’ building. Or a pap following you. It was New Year’s, after all. You get announced for All-Stars, you’re high-profile already, you leave your house just after midnight…it’s easy to assume you might be going to meet someone.”

“It didn’t come out on New Year’s,” Sirius snapped. “Why wait?”

“Money,” Alice said simply. “People bid on these things. Sometimes they take time.”

“It was my idea,” Remus said. He still wouldn’t look at Sirius, but rather calmly at Alice. “I don’t want Sirius to take any blame for that.”

Alice sighed. “The organization isn’t happy with you, Remus.”

“I figured,” Remus said faintly.

Sirius’ throat closed. If Remus was fired, he’d never forgive himself. He hadn’t even thought—they’d never talked about—

“In their eyes, you’re an employee. One that’s trusted with, well…players’ bodies.”

“Quoi?” Sirius burst out. “Like—like he’s some type of pervert? Like he manipulated me into something?”

“Someone in Remus’ position has access to private information,” Alice said, then put her hands out. “I am in no way saying that’s what went on with the two of you. And we’re here right now to figure out what we want to do and how we want to respond. I am here to fully support the both of you.”

“We both are,” Arthur said.

“What do they want us to do about it?” Remus asked.

“They’re trying to be…” Alice winced. “Party pleasers. They meaning, not just Lions organization, but mostly the NHL, the League. They’d like the Lions to let Remus go, showing they don’t condone,” she raised air quotes, “unprofessional relationships, but they’d also like Sirius to release a statement of confirmation.”

Sirius blanched. “Confirmation?”

“There have been rumors of this sort before, with other players,” Alice said. “But…those pictures don’t leave much to interpret.”

Remus scoffed. “So they’re willing to accept it just because they can’t deny it.”

Sirius silently begged Remus to look at him. He needed to see his face, just like that day on the ice with his ankle and Snape’s hit.

“Like I said,” Alice said with a dark look at the papers in front of her. “The League is trying to please their entire fanbase, which unfortunately includes lots of close-minded people.”

“That can’t be the entire fanbase. What about the other parts?” Remus said. “We’re here. And we aren’t the only ones!”

Sirius looked at Remus and his anger-flushed cheeks. “What?”

Remus looked at him, finally. He looked startled at himself that he had at all, like he had promised himself he wouldn’t. “I…I just mean we can’t be,” he looked away. “There’s no fucking way you are the only professional male hockey player who isn’t straight. I was nearly a professional hockey player and I’m definitely not.”

“Coach,” Alice said slowly. “If you’d like to talk about the organization’s position.”

Arthur nodded, and cleared his throat. “I am extremely willing to fight the board on this. I wish my leverage was that you’re both human and shouldn’t be judged in a professional setting on a personal relationship, or just at all. Jesus Christ, why are people so stupid? But…right now, my reasoning—the reasoning that will get their attention and sway their minds—is that we are two inches from a spot in the play-offs. Remus is known and loved by my team. He is a very valuable member of the Lions staff, just as Sirius is a very valuable player. That’s the simple truth on my end.”

“So, you can protect Remus,” Sirius needed him to say it.

Coach nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” Sirius said, and rose. “Then we’re done.”

Alice put out her hand cautiously. “Sirius, as for your statement to the press—”

“Fuck the press,” Sirius said. “I don’t owe them anything.”

Alice’s eyes turned firm. “You will be asked about this at the All-Star game. You should think about what you want to say.”

“Was it not already said for me?” Sirius shouted, and the room flinched into silence.

Alice swallowed. “You’re right.” She looked between Sirius and Remus.

Arthur leaned forward. “We are so sorry that this happened to the both of you.”

“It was a horrible violation of privacy and you both have every right to be extremely angry,” Alice continued. “But, please. Think about that anger when you are in front of a camera. Now, I am so happy to give you whatever support you need, whether that be anything from responses you can use so you don’t have to worry, or support via the organization’s social media. I know you’re private, Sirius, but—”

“But, what?”

“But this could mean something to someone out there,” Alice burst out. “You, the face of the National Hockey League—”

“Who I love has nothing to do with the NHL,” Sirius snapped, and then his face dropped, realizing what he had said.

He stared at Remus, who was looking right back at him, hand pressed to his throat. His eyes were bright with unshed tears.

I love you.

The phrase had been echoing around his head for weeks now. Remus.

“I have a plane to catch,” Sirius choked out.

“Okay,” Alice rose. “ Okay. Logan would be with you, but he requested a later flight last night, and so it’ll just be you and Minnie and the camera crews—”

“That’s fine,” Sirius barely got the words out before he was disappearing through the door, weekend bag in hand.

He felt sick.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Old panic, residue fear that was sticky like cement, keeping him in place and getting harder and harder to budge.

Only when the plane was about to take off did Sirius check his phone. Missed calls.

His mother. Two. It surprised him.

Minnie. Ten. But he had called her back.

Remus.

Thirty-six.

And one message, from this morning, just after the meeting.

Call me when you’re ready to talk. Good luck.

Sirius, heart in his stomach, slid his phone into his pocket and closed his eyes as the plane began to move.