Title: Temper
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them. Just borrowing them for a bit.
T for some things not safely mentioned at dinner at my house. Nothing too horrible, just a little innuendo-y.
Summary: Regulus rarely loses his temper. But Zander Maclelan had done something REALLY stupid. Because the only one who gets to call Sirius a Blood-Traitor is him.
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Zander Maclelan soars through the air like he'd just been gifted with flight. It was a truly inspiring sight, watching as the slim young man, a seventh year Slytherin , formed an arch in the air before slamming into the wall. There's a crunch of bone and he collapses, sliding to the ground in a limp heap.
Silence falls in the Great Hall as 14 year old Regulus A. Black, referred to as "Black Ice" by a good half of the Hogwarts population, (though always behind his back) very calmly sits back down from where he'd sent the guy flying. Sipping from his goblet in true Lord of the Manor style, he stares with absolute hatred as the man gets to his feet again, spitting blood and holding his side. Zander is glaring daggers at the boy, fury distorting otherwise fine features.
Everyone watched anxiously, a 16 year old Sirius most of all. He's seen what happens when Regulus's temper goes, and the last time that it had happened, they ended up remodeling half of the second floor of Grimmauld Place. Zander should be counting his blessings that skinny little Regulus wasn't uncoiling a whip. (He did have one, after all. Sirius had given it too him, because Remus thought it was too leash like, and everyone knew Slytherin's had bondage fetishes. Besides, Regulus could have anyone on their knees begging to blow him when the mood was right, and he had a thing for leather.)
"What was that for?" Zander demands furiously. Regulus glares, and Sirius recoils. This is THE glare, the one that meant that You Are Screwed Into A Grave, Mister, Because You Have Done Something To Annoy The Great And Terrible Me. Sirius knows this look very well, because Regulus has often given it to him, normally accompanied by a very nasty, scathing comment, and a whip crack once. (He'd managed to dodge, unlike some of his brothers conquests.)
"I don't take kindly to people who refer to my brother in such terms."
Well, Sirius thinks in surprise, why haven't you sent Mother flying a few times? Sirius's lost count of the times she's screamed that he's a blood traitor at him.
Zander laughs. "And yet you call him that yourself." He winces, and Sirius feels a little smug. His brother can be downright powerful when he wants to be, and that throw had looked painful. His rib was probably cracked.
"Yes. However," Regulus says, setting his glass down and narrowing his eyes, "I am family, and therefore allowed too. You, however, are not."
"I don't get it-"
"And I don't care. Should you ever refer to my brother as a Blood-Traitor again, I shall see to it that your manhood comes into question. Are we perfectly understood?"
Zander goes shock white at that as giggles echo around the Great Hall.
The really great thing is that Regulus is deadly serious, and everyone knows that if you give him a knife, he can pin down a butterfly on the wing to a marble stone. Castrating Zander would be a piece of cake, with whipping cream on top and marichino cherries on the side. More than a couple shift uneasily in their seats, and Zanders friends all look anxious, but a few people are looking at Regulus with almost lust in their eyes.
Sirius smirks, meets his brothers eyes and nods his thanks. With a smirk in kind, Regulus toasts him, and they go back to breakfast.
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AN: Because I could…and I just wanted to write a bit of brotherly entertainment. It was just a fun little piece, and I hope you all enjoyed it as well. Praise be to JK Rowling for creating such maleable characters.
