Always On Guard

[regulus_a_b]

Regulus sat, chewing on a particularly crispy segment of broiled chicken thigh. His eyes flitted from end to end of the Slytherin table, cold and calculating. Earlier in the meal, Regulus had felt something, a pressure at his developed mind. It had been so surprising, Black had barely sustained the slight conversation he had been engaged in, faltering mid-statement.

Now he sat, not tasting the food he consumed, watching those around him carefully...