Being Head Boy Sort of Sucks by Luvscharlie

Warnings: AU, unrequited sexual tension, underage (though anything explicit is more fantasy than reality, which won't make sense until you read it), James Potter being an attention whore even though it's supposed to be Regulus's fest. Regulus would like to punch him the nose for stealing the spotlight.

A/N: Originally written for the 2010 regulus_fest on Live Journal where the prompt was "I hate myself for wanting you.".

"Summers. Summers are the absolute worst. You'd think that I would be all excited to be away from Hogwarts and the professors and the mountains upon mountains of work they assigned. But you'd be wrong. Summers meant being separated from my friends—mostly being separated from Sirius was the worst and I wouldn't see him all summer long, unless I went over to his house, and talk about oppressive. Siriusly. See what I did there? Clever, huh? Well, Dumbledore making me Head Boy this year was not for nothing. James Potter's going to look good this year wearing his shiny new badge. Oh yes, indeed, he is! Evans says I shouldn't refer to myself in the third person like that—she says it makes me sound rather arrogant. Probably does, but seriously, get a look at this thing. Never thought I'd have it in my possession, I can tell you that. Well, you know, not without my having stolen it from Remus or something. I think I've earned the right to strut a little bit.

All strutting aside though, honestly, I'm still not really sure how that happened. I thought the owl might have been lost at first, and that it had meant to go to Moony's house instead. See, the school owls haven't really been the same since that spell Sirius and I did in the Owlery that went—yeah, hmmm, not everybody knows about that, so I'm thinking we should just move along. No one's supposed to know about it actually, and—well, let's just forget I mentioned that, yeah?

Anyway back to my badge issues. After I'd discounted (mostly) the lost owl idea, then, I thought Sirius had somehow managed to replicate the school crest, and he had sent the letter to me as a prank. Honestly, I'm still not one hundred percent certain that it's legitimate. But it had better be, since now my mum knows about it and she's over the moon, telling all her friends how "my little James" just became the first Head Boy in the Potter family—and how I must have her genes since there had been three others somewhere on her family tree and not a single Head-anything in the Potter family for as far back as she had searched. Of course I could have pointed out that Uncle Nester likes to give head, and he's a Potter, but Mum would have been all scandalised at my behaviour, and my poor mum was going to face enough disappointment in her life. After all, those comments about how proud of her little James she was, were typically followed up with her telling her friends how she'd mapped out the rest of my life. I'd marry a nice girl and give her ample grandchildren. See, Mum didn't realise I shared a lot more in common with her than just superior genes. After all, she and I both liked blokes. Boy, my clever wit just never gets old.

But the closer it got to school, I became anxious. This whole Head Boy thing could be a permanent mar on my reputation as a world class troublemaker. So while at first I was a little proud of myself, then I started to worry what this was going to do to my hard-earned reputation.

Of course, the privileges far outweigh the little blemish on my good name. The more I thought it over, the more I came to appreciate my good fortune (lost owl or not—and if this little baby belonged to Remus, I thought, whilst shining my new badge, he was gonna have to fight me for it) at having my new title.

Just imagine the amount of things Sirius and I are going to be able to get away with! After all, who is going to question what the Head Boy is doing out after curfew? Who is going to tell me what is or is not proper to do? Nobody, that's who. Our last year at Hogwarts is going to be phenomenal. Besides, just wait until Snivellus finds out that I'm Head Boy! Oh, I just can't stand it. I'm dying to see the look on his face when he realises that I'm the Head Boy to Evans's Head Girl. He just knew that he was a shoe in. Rubbing this in is going to be so, so sweet. It's going to be a Gryffindor kind of year with me and Evans in charge.

Now, I was just dying for this summer to hurry on past and move us swiftly to seventh year, where we were going to rule that school…

…or not… but I didn't know that yet.

It seems the owl wasn't lost. I really had made Head Boy—though it took seeing the letter announcing it, as well as the badge, before Sirius was convinced. Even magic as advanced as ours (and damn, we were good!) couldn't replicate the Head Boy Badge at Hogwarts. Mess with it a bit, maybe (not that we had ever tried that—no way, not us—well, not more than once anyway), but not make a complete replication. It was unheard of. Still, I guess Sirius had his doubts. Honestly, I can't blame the bloke. Can't say I would have been any different if the tables had been turned. As if that could even happen—Sirius Black, Head Boy—don't make me laugh—more like Sirius Black, Thick-headed Boy—What? No, I did not steal that insult from Evans when she called me that—and—and—and—You know what, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Besides this is my story to tell and I'll tell it like I want. If there's a bit of stretching—well, we tale-tellers, have artistic freedom in that regard, you know.

Sirius and I had every intention of abusing my Head Boy privileges at each and every turn. We'd lock the ickle Firsties in Moaning Myrtle's toilet—bad for them, but it'd earn us some brownie points with Myrtle, for sure, and sometimes she might warn us which corridors to avoid if we were out skulking about after bedtime. Myrtle was always game for some company, plus she had a bit of a crush on Remus, which we exploited to the fullest.

So, anyway, it was Seventh Year, and we were head of the school. Our reign would start the moment we stepped onto the Hogwarts Express… or so we thought.

"Head Boy, mate," Sirius said, shaking his head as though the absurd idea still hadn't taken concrete form in his head. "I still think the owl was lost or something." He smiled and taunted a little more. "You sure that's not meant for Moony?"

Lost owl or not, it didn't stop Sirius from picking up a Slytherin second year and giving the kid what must have been one bitch of a wedgie.

"OWWWWW," the kid squealed. And when Sirius put him down, he looked up incredulous. "What was that for?" the boy whined, plucking at his trousers.

"Wearing the wrong colours, of course," Sirius said in an offhand manner, as though even being asked to explain his actions was going too far. "Want another?" He leered at the boy, and the kid scrambled away.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," came a voice—a very recognisable voice—from one train car down.

Sirius stepped up to answer before I had a chance. "What?" Sirius scoffed. You can't deduct points from Gryffindor, little brother. I did it with the Head Boy's approval."

Not so—well, not really anyway, I mean, I didn't stop Sirius or anything, but I'm not sure that constitutes approval, per se. I remained quiet and watched the brothers glare at one another.

"Then the Head Boy can answer to the Headmaster when we arrive at school," Regulus retorted through clenched teeth. "And he can explain his behaviour."

When Regulus was angry, I couldn't help but be turned on. Sirius and I had had a thing-well, I wasn't sure what to call it, but it didn't much need a label late at night in the dark of our dorm room. But Regulus—well, Regulus was something entirely different. He was dark and brooding, where Sirius was outgoing and jovial. Regulus was delicate, where Sirius was heartily all male, and-Hey, whoa, what? My ears finally caught up with my thoughts, and I felt the need to plead my case. "I was just an innocent bystander."

Regulus turned all of his seething fury on me, and oh, those eyes of his. What the hell, brain? This was Sirius's brother. I wasn't allowed to think like this. "That's the problem, isn't it, Potter? You stand by watching, doing nothing, as my brother tortures an innocent student."

"Well, I'd hardly call that torture," I tried to defend. "I mean a little bit of discomfort perhaps, but no one ever died 'cause their pants went up their bum a bit too far. It was a prank but—"

"And you and your friends find nothing wrong with pranks."

Sirius sighed before I could reply. "He's been incorrigible since that ridiculous Prefect's badge arrived. Thinks he's king of the castle, that one. Of course, didn't help that Mother gushed and gushed about her precious boy. Thinks his word is law or something."

I ignored Sirius's comment and focused my attention on his brother. "Harmless bit of fun," I defended again. But those dark eyes were piercing into me and making me feel a wee bit uncomfortable. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I was Head Boy and he was a lowly Fifth Year, and here he was dressing me down like this. Why, I should turn him over my knee and spank that delectable arse of his and- My brain is OUT. OF. CONTROL. I had gone most of the summer without a good shag, so maybe that was the problem. Must be. I was not longing to do wicked things to my best friend and on-the-side lover's brother. I was not.

"Harmless to whom?" Regulus interrupted my rampantly running brain. "Certainly not to the kid you just sent crying off the train on his first day at Hogwarts! You don't think that leaves scars? You don't think that you just scared all hell out of the poor thing?"

"Hey, whoa," I protested. "I did no such thing." I shoved Sirius in front of me (hey, don't judge me, there are times it's every man for himself), and pointed at my best friend—my glaring-at-me, not-looking-happy-at-all best friend. I proceeded with the every man for himself line of thinking. "He did it."

"And you failed to stop him. In fact, you stood by and watched him with evident mirth."

"Mirth? A bit of an exaggeration there, don't you think?" I asked, trying to downplay the incident and my reaction thereto.

"Not at all. We'll see how the Headmaster feels about this." And with those words the little pain in the arse marched off the train.

"He's going to be a problem this year," Sirius stated the obvious.

"You think?" I replied, not caring one bit how much my sarcasm seeped through. Starting off our year in trouble was nothing unusual, but doing it with a Head Boy badge pinned to my robes was. This little pin was supposed to be my free pass, and already it had landed me into what I suspected would be a world of trouble, simply for standing in close proximity to my troublemaking mate. Stupid badge.

I didn't see Regulus Black again until after the Sorting that same evening, and I thought I had perhaps dodged that bullet. Then Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn marched up to me with Regulus between them. Bullet not dodged.

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall began, the Headmaster would like to see both you and Mr. Black—the younger Mr. Black here," she indicated Regulus with a tilt of her head, "in his office at the end of the welcoming feast."

I nodded, unsure of what I should say, and thought maybe this was a coincidence until she walked away shaking her head and muttering something about me already causing trouble and how she'd known all along that my being given the Head Boy badge was a bad idea and why didn't Dumbledore ever listen to her.

When the professors were out of earshot, I turned on Regulus. "Look what you've done?"

"Me? I did nothing. This is entirely your fault, Head Boy." And he spit my new title out like it tasted bad on his tongue.

"God, you little prat!" I screeched, and then I levelled the lowest of blows upon him. "You're just like your mother."

And right then, in front of the entire student body, who were coming out of the Great Hall from the feast, Regulus Black pulled back his foot and he kicked me right in the knee. I screeched just like a girl and hopped around on one foot, and some little first year girls laughed at me—Hey, I wasn't prepared, and those shoes of his had hard toes!—oh, the embarrassment.

To add insult to literal injury, I was then forced to go to the Headmaster's office with the little creep following behind me and probably looking smug. I pounded with irritation on the office door.

"Come in," said Dumbledore from the other side.

I crossed the threshold and Dumbledore looked up from whatever he was writing at his desk. "Well, this is early in the year, even for you, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir," I said with a gulp.

Regulus recounted the story on the train, stretching the truth a bit, in my opinion, and then the Headmaster looked over at me. "Do you have anything you would like to say to Mr. Black's accusations, James?"

"He kicked me," I said, sounding like a petulant child. "I'm going to have a bruise."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Well, I think this can best be handled by a detention to be served with Mr. Filch tomorrow evening."

"I agree," said Regulus, looking smug. "That will teach him a lesson, sir."

"For the two of you to serve," Dumbledore clarified, and Regulus's mouth dropped open. "Now, I'm sure the both of you are anxious to get to your dorms and catch up with what antics your friends got into over the summer holidays. That was always my favourite part of returning to Hogwarts each year." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the warm memory of bygone days.

"Yes, sir," we both said, respectfully, if somewhat sullenly, and turned to file out of the office.

"Oh, and Mr. Black," Dumbledore said to our departing backs, causing us both to turn toward him again, "do keep your feet to yourself."

"Yes, sir," said Regulus though it was evident that he was swallowing his pride in order to be respectful.

"Ha," I said, when we had the door closed behind us and were on the spiral staircase.

Dumbledore's voice called out to me through the door. "That's not the way a Head Boy behaves, Mr. Potter. You'd do well to remember that."

This badge was becoming more and more trouble with every passing moment.

The next night, after one fuck of a miserable day, Double Potions our first day back, I plodded down the stairs to find Filch for a night of detention. Turns out Filch had to go into Hogsmeade to pick up some supplies, but he'd left us a note, and an anticipated threat of flogging if we veered from the rules, that we were to sweep the entire castle using no magic.

Regulus arrived at Filch's office just as I was reading the last of the parchment. He looked over it as well. I saw his dark eyes scanning back and forth as his slim fingers stroked his chin. He finished and we both turned to walk toward the nearest broom closet without a word said between us.

Regulus reached to open the door, but I bumped him aside and took charge. Then we both struggled to get into the closet first, hips bumping and pushing as our shoulders refused to go through the door at the same time. For me, it was just a matter of principle. The little pain in the bum needed to be shown who was boss, and I gave a really hard shove so that he had no choice but to let me precede him into the closet. Ha! Proper decorum be damned. It didn't count if I only thought it.

Regulus loped in behind me, his face showing his displeasure at having lost the battle of wills (and shoulders) outside the door. The closet was a tight fit, and as he came in, the door closed behind him, leaving us in total darkness. I got a broom (the best of the bunch, just for the record—thankfully, I'd already been reaching for it before the lights went out, so to speak) from the ones propped against the wall, felt my way back to the door handle, and turned the handle to exit… and it wouldn't give at all.

"Come on, Potter, stop fooling around," said Regulus, his voice clipped. "The sooner we get done with this, the sooner I don't have to look at your ugly face."

"I'll have you know my face is far prettier than yours will ever be, you envious little prat. And I don't fancy spending any more time with you than I have to either, but this door is locked. We can't get out."

"Some wizard you are," Regulus said, shoving against me in order to remove his wand from his pocket and then elbowing me in the chest in the close confines as he aimed it at the handle. "Forget you have a wand, did you?"

Well, that was embarrassing…

"Stand back, Potter, I'd hate to hurt you."

…and that was annoying. "Stand back, where? I can't move, you moron." I said. "And you better make sure you're aiming at the door."

He said Alohamora in an authoritative voice, and you could almost hear the smug smile that was surely gracing his thin face, then I heard him turn the handle…only to find that it still wouldn't budge. The door remained closed.

Ha again! "Well, Mr. Genius Wizard, any other bright ideas?"

The resulting silence spoke volumes. We were stuck in here until help came. Then Regulus began to wriggle in an attempt to get comfortable, and the movements were—well, my cock rather liked them, and it was standing up to make its appreciation known. And given that we were pressed so close together, there was going to be no way to hide my arousal.

"Wondered how long it was going to take before that happened," Regulus said. "Not any secret that you have a hard on for the Blacks."

"Wait. What? That is too a secret—I mean, there's only Sirius and—Fuck, that's a secret, too. Forget I said any of that." Bloody hell! I'd consider casting an Obliviate but there was the chance of a ricochet in these tight quarters and I rather liked my own memory intact. I continued on in an attempt to save my dignity. "Besides, I don't want you, no matter how highly you think of yourself."

"This speaks otherwise." And Regulus ran a hand up the bulge in my trousers and I saw stars and shuddered as all of my blood rushed into my formerly half-hard cock, giving me a raging erection and the inability to think clearly. My fantasies were running wild, and he seemed to know it.

"I've seen the way you look at me."

"You're delusional," I retorted, gulping hard.

"You want nothing more right now than to push me up against the wall of this closet and shove my trousers to my ankles and slide your—"

I cut off his words—couldn't stand to hear my deepest desires of the moment voiced aloud—grabbed a fistful of his hair and crushed my mouth over his delicate lips, shoving my tongue into his mouth and holding him there when he tried to push his hands against my chest.

And just as I released him, Mr. Filch opened the door…

The rest of the detention was served with brooms in hand and me keeping my distance from Regulus Black.

But that night in my room—which brings me to something else, by the way. You know that rumour about being Head Boy getting you your own room? I heard that from the time I got to Hogwarts as an ickle Firstie. Well, let me tell you, it's totally untrue. There is no such room! Nope, just another rip off that goes with this damn badge. I'm still stuck here in the dorm listening to Sirius and his snoring and Remus with his ridiculously loud breathing. When the room was as quiet as it ever gets, which isn't all that quiet, I closed the curtains on my four poster, and as I slipped into a restless slumber, I allowed myself the thoughts that I'd been pushing away all night as I made steady strokes up and down the corridors with my broom in hand.

In my dream I was free to do as I wished and I didn't stop with that heated kiss I'd shared with Regulus in the broom closet. I did just as he'd described to me earlier in the evening. I shoved him against the walls, shoved his trousers to his knees and slid my cock between those pale white cheeks, and oh, it was tight, so very tight, that my throbbing cock thrust again and again into that snug heat and…

I awoke to Sirius shaking my shoulder and my cock clutched tightly in my fist, a moan still lingering on my lips, which I had heard as I was coming round.

"For Merlin's sake, man," Sirius said, "are you wanking it or strangling it?"

"What? Huh? What?" I spluttered, then looked down to where he nodded at my engorged cock clutched so tightly in my fist that it was turning colours.

"Remind me to keep mine in my pants if that's how you're treating your own these days," Sirius said, going back to his own bed and pulling the curtains, but not before saying, "And hold it down, won't you? I thought Moaning Myrtle was trying to sneak into Remus's bed again from all the commotion. Gave poor Moony quite the fright when he woke up last night, she did. I tell you, I'm liking the old girl more and more."

"What? Myrtle, yeah sure," I muttered. "She's great." I was thankful it was dark because my face was probably ten shades of red.

"Be kind to your cock," Sirius said with a chuckle, and I was left to over-analyse my dream. "By the way, Regulus said to tell you that you're stuck doing corridor patrol with him tomorrow night. Lucky you." Sirius was sarcastic.

I felt a lump rise up in my throat that I tried to swallow down. It was Seventh Year. I was supposed to be ruling this school. But one, prim and proper, pain in the you-know-where Slytherin Prefect was under my skin and ruining everything.

I closed my eyes again, determined to dream of something that did not include Regulus Black, only to find myself right back in that broom closet with Regulus looking at me in a knowing way and dropping to his knees before me.

Egads, it was going to be one hell of a long year.