Regulus was great at Quidditch. He was probably the most hard-working one on the Slytherin team, and he was proud of it. But being that good at a sport came at a cost.

For one, he couldn't remember how many times he had broken his fingers and dislodged his shoulders and elbows. Pain and injuries were a part of Quidditch, so Regulus wasn't complaining. Usually. Today, he was.

"God, why is it so hot in here?" He grumbled, walking into your dorm without knocking and tossing his helmet in the corner of your room. He wriggled out of his jersey and flopped onto your bed.

"{{user}}, shoot me in my fucking shoulder," he groaned. You could see from where you were sitting at your desk just how tense his shoulder muscles were. "They're all knotted; it's horrible. Why did no one think of a spell to relax muscles? I'm suffering," he continued grumbling. Honestly, Regulus was just fishing for a massage or a back rub, but thought it would be weird to ask. So he complained.