Notes: Yes dears, it's another SOB-fic from yours truly. Happy New Year!
Disclaimer: They're all mine! EVERYTHING is mine! ::cackle:: Okay, okay... fine. I don't own the universe... yet.
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The Slytherin Common Room was, contrary to popular belief around the school, not a place where cannibalistic dark orgies took place every Friday night. The furniture was made of ebony, and silver-tasseled green velvet, not gnawed and splintered human bones. And the students, though they had their weekly strip-poker tournaments, did not spend their time plotting how to set innocent little first-years on fire. Usually.
Indeed, Slytherins, though conniving, cynical, and mildly (or sometimes extremely) naughty, were a fairly cultured, sophisticated, elegant bunch, and fairly benevolent amongst themselves. Well, the sarcastic bantering aside.
Except today, there seemed to be something wrong with the delicate, snarky balance of the green and silver world.
Fallon Anderson, unchallenged Slytherin bitch-queen second to none, heard the screaming before she had even entered the Common Room. Raising an eyebrow, she uttered the password ("Les Fleurs du Mal") and walked in.
Standing in the middle of the Common Room, shouts competing for each other in volume, were Ravyn De Borgia and Draco Malfoy. The generally-acknowledged Princess and Prince of Slytherin House were at each other's throats.
And before Fallon's astonished eyes, her friend Ravyn stalked up to her adored boyfriend, and slapped him across the face before whirling around and storming to her dormitory. A moment later, Malfoy, his pale cheek reddened by the slap, stormed off as well. Neither of them even noticed Fallon.
Interesting. And highly disturbing.
But Fallon was not the fearless leader of a large group of Slytherin girls for nothing. She would figure out what was going on, whether she should interfere or simply emasculate Malfoy for upsetting Ravyn, and if she were to interfere, how she would go about doing so in a cunning and dignified fashion.
* * *
Just as Fallon was about to go to the girls' dormitory and seek out Ravyn for some answers, someone else walked into the Common Room. The someone else was tall, dark, and handsome. He also happened to take a sort of perilous pleasure in deliberately infuriating Fallon on a fairly regular basis. Why he had not been murdered in his bed by said Slytherin bitch was something of a mystery, although popular belief ran that their sniping was simply a mask for a strange sort of mutual attraction: Fallon was gorgeous, with a sleek, catlike grace, waist-length dark hair and fiery dark eyes, although her somewhat aggressive and acerbic nature prevented most from ever voicing any attraction to her. However, it was quite possible that in her heart, she appreciated a man who didn't scare easily. Said man, Cassius Warrington, was a year above Fallon, and a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. It would be only natural that the Quidditch team's most smart-arsed Chaser would love a challenge of such proportions (in every sense of the word) as the beautiful and belligerent girl.
Of course, no one in Slytherin house ever voiced these beliefs within earshot of the two in question. Slytherins are known for their cunning and ambitious pragmatism, and not for the reckless masochistic courageous insanity that characterized the Gryffindors that most of them so richly scorned. Private betting pools aside, Fallon Anderson and Cassius Warrington were left alone to go their merry way and have their witty repartee unstopped.
Right now, Warrington was frowning darkly. As there were no first-year students from other houses to terrorize, Fallon was rather curious as to why he wore a scowl. But before she could ask, he answered her unspoken question with one of his own.
"Who shoved a broomstick up Malfoy's arse?"
"Unpleasant mental image, Warrington," Fallon rolled her eyes somewhat, "I came in, and he and Ravyn were going at it."
"You... walked in on them shagging?" Warrington gave her a look of disbelief, "Is that why he just barreled into me, swore in two different languages, and then stormed off, pouting like somebody had just blown up his kitty-cat?"
"NO! You men... your minds are too bent in one direction..." Fallon muttered to herself, a discontented look on her face. Warrington sniggered.
"Ha! I bet if they were... truly... bent, it wouldn't work very well."
Fallon shot him a scathing look, "Very funny, Warrington. I meant... when I came in, they were having a flaming row in the middle of the Common Room. I could hear them before I even opened up the portrait. Honestly, if they were screaming any louder, one would be able to hear them from the bloody Astronomy Tower. Then she slapped her, and both of them stomped off. No idea why, though."
"Maybe Malfoy's discovered that he has a taste for sadomasochism?" Warrington ventured.
Fallon gave him another one of her "tell-me-again-why-you-are-not-in-the-mental-ward-at-St.-Mungo's?" looks. "Then, wouldn't he have been happy instead of pouting and swearing?"
"True, I suppose," Warrington conceded, "How bad was the argument? Think it'll blow over by dinnertime?'
Fallon shook her head, "No... they were really angry at each other. Worse than our worst arguments to date. And they're supposed to be dating each other."
Warrington chuckled, "That's why we're not dating, hmm?"
Giving him a smile all the more menacing for its seraphic sweetness, Fallon bared her teeth and purred, "Well... yes. And there's also the fact that you'd find yourself hospitalized within 48 hours, right?"
"Yes, that too," Warrington agreed fervently. Fallon smirked at him, then her face became discontent.
"Something must be done about this situation with Ravyn and Malfoy, though. And fast."
"I suppose," Warrington shrugged.
"No, I'm quite serious. Something must be done as soon as possible," Fallon muttered, narrowing her eyes slightly, "Otherwise, she's going to out-bitch me if this problem is not eradicated!"
"Oh, how utterly terrible that would be... a real tragedy," Warrington rolled his eyes with a melodramatic sigh, "Of course, that must be prevented at all costs!"
Fallon matched his sneer with a glare, "Oh, trust me, it would be in your best interests if this problem were solved as well. Otherwise, you'd have to deal with a petulant Quidditch captain. Well... even more petulant than usual."
Warrington nodded thoughtfully, "You do have a point there. So... what do we do?"
Fallon's eyes took on a calculating gleam, "Well, we solve this problem, of course. Well... we hope that they will solve their own problem, but if they're not going to be mature about it, we will speed the process along."
"Considering the people in question, I daresay we will be doing a lot of 'speeding'," Warrington muttered.
"Yes. Bloody terrific. We're going to have to..." Fallon paused, and grimaced in distaste, "work together..."
"They really owe us one."
"Indeed."
* * *
Really, they had no idea what they were going into.