1 Bookmark by Ollabee
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Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Christ, you're a brat.”
“What’s a christ,” Regulus blurts, and smacks a hand over his mouth in desperation. “Nevermind. I’m–”
Fine, is what he tries to say, but his throat actually spasms, and the word dies before it's ever born.
Trying again, he clears his throat and carefully selects, “I can handle this myself.”
Or: Regulus Black, many, many cups of ale, a pinch of veritaserum, and one Sirius Black.