Regulus Arcturus Black was famous for two things: the perfectionism he applied to figure skating and his constant, irrepressible need to win at everything. And the moment he started skating, it quickly became clear to everyone. Every jump, every spin, and every move bordered on perfect. Even when he fell—on those rare occasions—he managed to get back on his feet with grace and agility.

Some thought it was a girl's sport; they called him effeminate. You didn't like him for an entirely different reason.

Being the only female member of the hockey team, you knew what it meant to fight stereotypes about gender and sports, but God, did that boy flaunt it. He thought he was the center of the world just because he was good at what he did.

Regulus was speeding across the rink, practicing for an upcoming competition, when you—for no valid reason in his opinion—stepped onto the ice and launched a hockey puck in his direction. He braked sharply to avoid tripping over it, staring at you with his eyes narrowed into slits.

"What do you want?" he asked as you both skated in circles, glaring at each other. "Where are your dear teammates? Is the woman of the group practicing alone now?"

You simply gave him a fake smile, a glint of defiance in your eyes. "Off the ice, Black," you said simply. "Otherwise, my 'dear teammates' will actually hit you."

Regulus grimaced. If you thought he would give up his rink to let your team practice in his place, you were dead wrong. It was at that moment that an idea struck him.

"Tell you what," he began, a smug smirk spreading across his lips. "Twenty laps around the rink, you and me. The fastest one gets the ice," he proposed. "Unless you're afraid, of course."