You looked down at the paper, disbelief etched on every line of your face. Tipping over the envelope, you watch the badge fall out and take it in your hands. A silver-and-green Slytherin crest is embossed on it, with a shiny letter P in the center. You hadn't believed the letter, thinking maybe it was addressed to you by mistake, but here it was—solid proof.
"Prefect?" you whispered doubtfully.
x
"First years, come on, over here!" You shouted through the din, throwing nervous glances over your shoulder where the other fifth years were sitting. "This way," you continued, directing the scared and amazed eleven-year-olds towards the dungeons.
x
"Prefect?" he sneered. "Really, Barty?" He looked down at the shiny gold badge in his hands, then looked up at you incredulously. "Didn't think you had it in you," he continued, raising the badge up to the light, as though trying to detect a forgery.
You snatched your prefect badge from out of his hands and tossed it into your open trunk. "It's not like I asked for this, Reg. I've got no clue why they choose me in the first place."
Regulus looked down at the badge through slightly narrowed eyes. "You get good marks…I suppose Dumbledore thinks you're responsible," he said, chuckling. "Or maybe, he knows you're not, and hopes the 'authority' will knock some sense into you." Regulus laughed, making his way toward the door and ducking as you lightheartedly chucked your Potions book at him. "Oi!"
"Leave it, Reg," you retorted, changing into your pyjamas.
x
The next morning, you reluctantly donned your badge and went downstairs. Regulus sat waiting in one of the armchairs by the door, arms crossed expectantly.
"Well, that explains why you didn't sit with me on the train. Can't say I can complain, really. Don't you look dapper in that badge, Mister Prefect."
"Piss off, Reg," you said.
Regulus raised his eyebrows, grinning at you. "Betcha your dear father will be so pleased to find out his son's been made a prefect, won't he?" he laughed.
"Oh yeah, sure," you muttered. "He should be really proud of his Slytherin prefect of a namesake. He still hates that I hang round with you."
He smirked. You'd had this conversation before, and Regulus seemed to take the same approach you did—keep it up while he wasn't there, and avoid the situation when he was. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. "Why don't you just leave me," Regulus replied, knowing what you would say.
"You know I couldn't. It's my life, why the hell should he care who I hang round with?"
"There we go. Now, time for breakfast, Mister Prefect." Regulus laughed as you elbowed him.
"Stop that."
"Or what?" he retorted, face twisting into a satisfied smirk, the likes of which only Regulus Black could pull off.
"Or I'll do this," and you kissed him on the cheek lightly, feeling your stomach flutter.
"And that's supposed to make me stop, is it?"
"Who said I wanted that?"
"Exactly."
x
Written for the Monthly Oneshot Competition. I used the prompt 'Prefect Badge'