CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

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I used to believe that Regulus Black had mastered the art of self-control, that he was good at keeping himself in check. In my perception, he was an expert at concealing his true emotions. But once you watch someone long enough, you start to see the cracks into their surfaces, tiny little ticks that they have that betray the emotions hidden beneath the surface.  I realized he was not as adept at concealing his emotions as he liked to think.

When sadness envelops him, his eyes lose their sharpness, and a subtle droop appears at the corners of his lips. The broad shoulders that usually stand square and strong slump ever so slightly. An air of heaviness surrounds him, as if he carries the weight of the emotion like an invisible burden. In moments of fear, his hands, typically steady, betray a slight tremor—a minute yet telling sign of the unease within. While his eyes maintain their usual intensity, a subtle twitch in his right eyebrow reveals the fear he attempts to conceal. When focused, his eyes scrunch slightly, and he bites his lower lip.

Anger, on the other hand, is the most easily detectable emotion, with several telltale signs. For instance, just now during dinner, as Snape whispers something to him, Regulus absentmindedly plays with his food. I notice the subtle clenching of his jaw—an easily missed movement for most but not for someone who has observed him as closely as I have. The tension in his jaw hints at the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Another unmistakable indicator is the narrowing of his stormy grey eyes. When anger surfaces, those sharp orbs intensify, as if attempting to shoot metaphorical daggers through whatever or whoever is the source of his frustration. The slight furrow between his eyebrows accompanies this—a silent yet visible protest against the perceived injustice or annoyance he's experiencing.

Regulus's long graceful fingers, typically composed and precise, initiate a rhythmic tapping against the table's edge when angered. It's a restless motion, a manifestation of the pent-up energy that anger brings. The subtle but persistent drumming serves as his way of channeling that excess emotion, an unconscious attempt to regain control.

In contrast, his posture undergoes imperceptible stiffening. While maintaining an outward appearance of composure, those attentive enough can discern the subtle straightening of his spine—a reflex, an automatic response to the surge of adrenaline that anger provokes, as if preparing for a potential confrontation.

The rarest and most remarkable of all is the genuine smile that graces Regulus's face when he's happy. His eyes light up, and the intensity transforms into a warmth that radiates joy. The surrounding air becomes lighter, and his usually reserved demeanor softens. It's a transformative shift that I enjoy the most.

My eyes are on Regulus; they have been for the past fifteen minutes. We returned from Christmas break about 3 days ago, and something is different about him, I can't really place my finger on it, but he seems angrier. 

Just as I find myself lost in speculation about the possible reasons for this change, Ari's voice cuts through my thoughts. "If you're done staring at Regulus Black, let's talk about the Charms assignment, shall we?" she teases, an amused glint in her eyes.

I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks, caught off guard by her teasing. "I wasn't staring," I retort, attempting to sound nonchalant. Ari raises an eyebrow skeptically, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Sure, Bel. I believe you," she replies, the teasing tone still evident in her voice.

I roll my eyes, trying not to let Ari see she's gotten to me. "Honestly, I was just spacing out, not gawking at Black or anything."

Ari clearly seems unconvinced but mercifully lets it drop. As we turn our focus to analyzing the advanced charm techniques from class, my traitorous gaze drifts back towards the Slytherin table of its own accord.

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