Author's Note: Written for the 'Competition' Challenge by AeroBabe on the HPFC forum.

Troublesome

Sometimes, Regulus wishes he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor like his brother. Then he wouldn't be subjected to the Marauders' cruel pranks, which tend to focus exclusively on the Slytherins. This time, they've somehow managed to enchant the entire Slytherin table to absorb anything that touches it – which means all the plates and food, plus a number of sleeves, including Regulus's.

"Bloody hell," growls a voice from across the table. Regulus looks up from his vain attempts to pry his sleeve out. It's Severus Snape, Sirius's self-proclaimed arch-nemesis. He too has gotten his sleeve stuck. "When I get out of here, I'm going to hex their noses into their faces and see how they like it."

His face is twisted in the most horrifying grimace Regulus has ever seen. He finds it rather fascinating.

"You'd think one of the teachers would have done something by now," he says, giving up his sleeve as a lost cause. Maybe he can sever it… except that he'd probably cut off his wrist by accident, since he's not left-handed.

Snape looks up at him, and his expression changes rapidly to a distorted sneer. "You're that pathetic mutt's little brother."

That's a fairly accurate description of Sirius, actually. Regulus considers possible responses. He'd really like to sneer back, but he'd probably end up looking like a clown. "I prefer not to associate with dogs," he says at last.

In the moment of silence that follows, Snape's face shifts from scorn to something that might have passed as a more positive emotion, but before Regulus can identify exactly what emotion that might be, someone bumps Snape from behind, causing him to get the front of his robes stuck in the table. Lips that had started to form a faint smirk rapidly twist into an expression of rage. Regulus receives, briefly, the full force of Snape's burning black eyes before the fourth year swivels around as best he can to roar insults at someone named Avery.

Reeling, Regulus turns his attention back to his sleeve, which has started to smoke at the edges. He feels lightheaded, and his heart is pounding with surprising force. It might be better for his ego to attribute the reaction to his brother's troublesome prank, but he's never really gotten the point of denial.

No one has ever looked at him like that before. Oddly, in spite of the fury that radiates from the boy across the table, Regulus would like nothing better than to experience it again and again.