Chapter 12: The Malfoy Manner

'Ale!'

Salazar nodded slowly. 'Ye-es,' he said, thoughtfully, 'I can see how that would be a slight problem for you, Ravenclaw.'

Rowena gesticulated wildly and made a noise like an indignant rhinoceros.

Salazar smirked. 'Do that again, it's funny.'

'"Slight problem"?' she repeated, slapping him on the arm. 'Just a "slight problem"? Salazar, there is a talking hat on my head and it won't let go!'

'Whores!'

'Be quiet, you!' she added angrily.

Salazar resumed his contemplation, scratched his chin and circled her a few times, mumbling under his breath.

'Well?' she demanded, as he prodded the hat's brim experimentally.

'Well,' he said, 'it's definitely stuck on tight.'

'I know that,' she growled, 'now make it un-stuck.'

He scratched his chin again. 'How much do you like having hair?'

Rowena squealed and tugged the hat further over her face, then quickly let go as it growled at her.

'Even better plan, Ravenclaw. Blind panic. Very productive.'

'Help!'

'Wimmin!'

'Be quiet!'

'I don't suppose,' he said, lifting the brim to meet her eyes, 'you've tried asking it to let go?'

'Yes,' she mumbled, despondently, 'but he doesn't really respond to reason. Just ale and women, apparently.'

'Whores!'

'Oh yes, and whores.'

'Alright, let me try…' Salazar cleared his throat and, addressing the hat, said, 'Look, Mr Hat – or may I call you Hat? Alright, I'll take that guttural grunt as a "yes". What do you do to earn a living, pray tell?'

The hat said, 'Ale, wimmin and whores! Don't make me ask again, laddy-boy!'

'Look, if you want to negotiate you're going to have to expand your vocabulary, alright?'

Rowena, feeling increasingly stupid as Salazar argued with someone around the region of her forehead, folded her arms and nodded occasionally at curious passer-bys.

'Ale!'

'Yes! For God's sake, I understand that you like ale!'

'Whores!'

'Those too! Let me hazard a guess: do you like wimmin as well?'

'Wimmin!'

'Oh, really? I'd never have thought it! Isn't there anything else you like?'

'…Strawberries…'

Salazar halted. He looked at the hat skeptically. 'Strawberries?'

'Strawberries and ale!'

'Alright, there's a chance we can work on that one. Rowena,' he ducked his head down so he was at her level, carefully out of range of Mr Hat, 'don't suppose you have any strawberries about your person, do you?'

Rowena rolled her eyes several times. 'Why, yes, Salazar,' she growled, 'right next to the raspberry bush I keep in my left shoe.'

'There's no need for sarcasm, lady.' He vanished over the hat's brim again, and Rowena found herself once again staring at his throat. 'Alright,' he announced, 'it seems we don't have any strawberries. Anything else you like?'

The hat was silent for a while, before declaring: 'Pipes.'

'Pipes? Uh…musical pipes?'

'Smoking pipes!'

'Right, hang on. Rowena, do you have a—?'

'No.'

'Right, no pipes, sorry. Anything else?'

'Kittens!'

'Kittens?'

'Aye!'

'Rowena—?'

'Do I look like the sort of person who carries kittens about their person?'

'She says she doesn't have any kittens, sorry.'

The hat slumped. 'Always wanted a little kitten called Twinkle. A kitten of my own.'

'Anything else that tickles your fancy?'

'Whores! Ale! Wimmin!'

'Oh, back to those three, are we?'

'Aye!'

Salazar sighed and patted his pockets. 'Don't suppose you respond to money, do you?'

'Aye!'

'You do?'

'Aye! Got to buy me, laddy!'

Salazar retrieved the sheet of paper from the table and read the bids. 'I see…if I bid for you, will you let go of Rowena's head?'

'Nay! If ye wins me, ye can have her back with me!'

'Ah. Right.'

'And then I want some ale!'

'Shut up. Rowena,' once again he peered under the hat's brim to meet her fuming glare, 'how much money do you have on you?'

She shrugged. 'About three sickles. Why?'

'Oh, fan-bloody-tastic.' Briefly, he outlined the situation to her. When Rowena began to flap her arms in panic, he outlined the situation a bit more thoroughly. This did very little to help.

'I don't want to be bought!' she squeaked, clinging to his sleeve. 'I'm not a hat accessory, I'm a human being!'

He looked at her hand. She quickly let go of his sleeve.

'I've got ten sickles, anyway,' he said, straightening his tunic. 'Ten and a knut, luckily for you. That beats MH's bid by one solitary knut.'

She sighed in relief. 'You're going to buy me? Salazar, that's so kind of you!'

He cringed. 'Never before in human history has anyone spoken those words unironically.'

'They do sound a bit weird,' Rowena agreed, pensively, 'I feel like I should probably slap you or something, just to neutralise it.'

'Well, don't. We haven't won yet.' He thought about it a second. 'Actually, just a little slap.'

Rowena obliged.

'OK, that's better. Back to normal. Right.'

Rowena frowned in concentration as Salazar explained the Rules Of The Bid. From where the stood in the crowd, close to the stage at the back of the tent, she had a clear view of what occurred:

The bidding sheets would be read by one of three officials sat behind a table. If no objections to the winning bid could be heard, the buyer would hand over his money, in the presence of an official, to the man who brought the item to be auctioned.

If there was an objection, the two potential buyers could either argue "diplomatically" in the presence of an official, or they could do the rational thing and step into the huge chalk circle by the side of the stage. There they would fight, using either magic or fists, depending on the wizard to muggle ratio…

Rowena very much hoped the next fight would be magic-based. The amount of blood produced from a round of fisticuffs was a stunning sight to behold, and she could now behold it all over her pinafore.

Mr Hat appeared to feel differently, and took great delight in yelling "Kick 'im in the dangly bits! Ale!" at inopportune moments. Luckily, he wasn't the only spectator to do so, so Rowena never attracted too much attention to herself. Salazar watched the fights without wincing, but never jeered or cheered, save for an occasional polite clap as the final punch was thrown.

'Alright,' said Rowena, as the jeering continued around them, 'who are the officials?'

Salazar tore his eyes away from the fight. 'The one on the far left is Cedric Balfour. He's the pub's owner, or something. The one in the middle is Heinnes Hepplewhite, who organises each event, and the one on the right is Xavier Malfoy.' With that he turned his attention back to the fight.

As a loud smack sounded from the ring, Rowena quickly diverted her attention to the officials. Balfour, she noticed, was huge, burly and an odd purple colour, with veins that stood to attention more than seemed strictly healthy. His eyes were large and bulged from his head, and didn't even flicker as head after head was smashed into the ground nearby.

Hepplewhite, on the other hand, was tall and thin, with a long, pointed nose and dignified eyebrows. He had a distinctly polished look about him, and spent most of his time organising his paperwork chronologically. Then there was Malfoy…

He was tall and finely-figured: slim, with broad shoulders and a polite waist. His hair was blonde and simply cut, never snatching attention from his elegant cheekbones. Yet despite it all, he wasn't quite...attractive. He was impressive, perhaps; like a marble bust or an ice sculpture, and he gave off the same amout of warmth. He made Rowena shudder.

Not necessarily in a bad way, but...

His grin, rare as it was, was crooked and teasing. He looked ready to snarl and bat a lazy paw in her direction. His eyes were grey and sharp. As these thoughts occured to Rowena, she realised both the grin and the eyes were actually directed right at her.

'What was that, Rowena?' Salazar asked, not looking away from the fight.

'Er…"eep!", Salazar.'

'Oh, right. Ah, he gave in.' A chorus of groans echoed throughout the tent as the smaller man staggered from the ring, shaking his bloodied head in resignation. Rowena dared look up in time to see Malfoy smirk and divert his attention elsewhere.

'Er,' said Rowena, feeling the redness creep over her skin, 'when are they reading ours out?'

'Shouldn't be long now. Are you OK? You look like you're having a hot flush.'

'I'm fine,' she squeaked. 'It's just warm in here, that's all.'

'Oh really?' he replied, tuning out of what she was saying – to her relief – and instead watching the bidding unfold on the stage. 'Take your clothes off or something.'

'What?'

'Alright, don't. Whatever. Shush.'

The only noise now came from the crowd as they muttered and spoke to each other, occasionally jostling Rowena and exhaling smoke at her. This was less of a problem than expected, as the hat merely sucked it from the air before it hit her, and tended to snarl at anyone who came too close. Every so often, from the stage, came the voice of an official asking whether there were any higher bids.

'Aha,' said Salazar at last, 'this is us.'

Mr Hepplewhite raised the bidding sheet from in front of him and declared that item number 146, "Sorting Hat" (and the young female affixed), would now be sold to the highest bidder, Mr SS. Were there any higher bids?

Salazar gestured for Rowena to follow him as he made his way onto the stage, which she obediently did. Watched by the jeering audience, she struggled to remain close to Salazar while at the same time far away from the seated figure of Xavier Malfoy. Her attempt failed.

'Ravenclaw, is it?' said a bored drawl from the region of her hip. With Slytherin deep in conversation with Hepplewhite, and fighting to repress her blush, she met his hard grey eyes.

'Er, um, yes,' she mumbled, eloquent as ever, 'Rowena Ravenclaw. Er, you are…?'

'I'm sure you already know that, Rowena.'

'Oh yes. Um.' She shrugged. 'Just trying to be polite.'

'Ah.' He looked her up and down. 'Noble effort.'

'Erm...I'm not usually dressed like this.'

'Ah? Ah,' he chuckled, 'well, that is a relief. I was just thinking that it seemed a very unflattering dress. Very dowdy. Are you disguised as a peasant?'

'Er...oh.' The blush happened, for entirely unforseen reasons. 'Oh. Right. Yes, that's why I'm - dowdy. Yes. But I actually meant the, er, giant talking hat, actually.'

'Ah! I wondered who'd be the first to mention the hat.' His lips curled into an amused grin. 'I don't suppose Slytherin coaxed you into putting it on, did he?'

Rowena glanced at Salazar, and back to Malfoy. 'Salazar? No, of course he didn't. Why would—?'

'No matter. It just can't hurt to check, can it?'

'Um...can it?'

He sat forwards and, in an exaggerated whisper, asked, 'You don't trust him, do you?'

Any reply she was prepared to offer was interrupted by Salazar as he raised his voice to demand: 'What? What do you mean? No one can have put in another offer since – Marley Hagrid? No, I don't—'

'What's wrong?' Rowena asked, relieved for the excuse to exit further conversation with Malfoy.

The look of panic on Salazar's face as he turned to her was at once very worrying and strangely warming. 'Do you have any more money, Ravenclaw?'

'No, I thought there was—'

'Malfoy, couldn't you lend—?'

'Now, Slytherin, you know that's not my way.'

'What's wrong?' Rowena demanded. 'Don't we have enough money, or something?'

The shadow of Marley Hagrid suddenly eclipsed them, a sickly smile on his pink face.

With a despondent sigh, Salazar explained, 'Hagrid's out-bid us.'

Helga listened. Godric spoke.

He said, 'There are things about Slytherin - there are very bad things about Slytherin. About all the Slytherins, they all - they all do such horrible things. But I can't-' He broke off, and exhaled a short, frustrated sigh. He began again: 'I can't tell you everything.'

'That's OK,' said Helga, 'you don't have to.'

Finally he said: 'There are things about Slytherin that I am very unaware of, Helga, and there are things about him that I'm all-too aware of. And…' his forehead crumpled as he struggled with the effort of articulation. Slowly he concluded, 'And the things I am…unaware of are, I fear, even worse than the things I do know all about. I couldn't tell you what I don't know, or even the ideas, because - well, I pray I'm very incorrect. And, and I can't tell you what I do know, because it's all very…vile. You mightn't guess it from just looking, but there are horrible things about him that I don't want to even say. He's done horrible things. He'll do horrible things. He's...he's horrible,' he concluded, with an awkward laugh.

'It's OK,' said Helga, with a gentle nod, 'I understand. I'm glad you feel secure enough to talk to me about it.' She left a respectful silence. She said, 'Can we go back to kissing now?'

'Grab his goulies, ye pansy! Gwan!'

'Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! No one understands a word you're saying!'

'Ro, I think you should maybe stop shouting at the hat now—'

'Don't you dare call me Ro, you fish-headed tit!'

'Don't call me a fish-headed tit, you scabby pox-lobster!'

'What does that even mean?'

'What did yours even mean?'

'It MEANS you're a TIT with the HEAD of a FISH!'

Malfoy cleared his throat. Rowena let go of Salazar's collar.

He said, 'Are you quite finished?'

'Yeah,' Salazar mumbled eventually, 'we were just...planning my fight strategy. You know.'

Xavier smiled. 'How very optimistic of you. I'll leave you to plan. But you need to be in the circle within a few minutes, William; you're slowing the auction down, and the audience is rather baying for your blood.' He stalked away.

Rowena prodded Salazar in the chest. 'Why did he call you William?'

'Ouch. Why did you poke me?'

She prodded him again.

'Ouch. The family call me by my middle name.'

'You're related to him?'

'Of course I am, I'm related to everybody. I'm related to you, incredibly distantly.'

'Oh,' said Rowena, face crumpling, 'that's distressing.' She pulled it back together. She prodded him again, harder. 'Why did you have to lie to me, Slytherin?'

'Er,' said Salazar, 'when? I probably have a list somewhere—'

'You told me you didn't fight people here! You utter tit!'

The jeering of the crowd rose in volume as Hagrid, still grinning in his malicious, sickly manner, entered the ring. He tapped his fingers together in a calculating way, eyes fixed on Rowena and Salazar as they continued to argue over the din.

'Well,' said Salazar, 'if I'd told you the truth you would've just gone psychotic, quite frankly. No one needs that at twelve o'clock in the morning, do they?'

'Well, tough! Tough! Because I'm going psychotic on you now, instead! Why did you—why? After all I've put up with from you! Everything I've over-looked, and you couldn't even tell me the truth on this one occasion!'

'Oh, does it really matter?' he asked, tapping his wand experimentally against the side of his hand as the crowd cheered. 'I can't—'

'It's the principle of the thing!' she interrupted him, as the hat joined in with the cries of the audience. 'And, and why are they all so bloody pleased to see you fighting, anyway? It's giving me a damn migraine!'

'You're giving me a damn migraine, Ravenclaw. Tone it down a bit, would you?'

'I—!'

'People just don't like me,' he explained, shrugging, 'and, for very different reasons, they don't like Hagrid, either. Now there's a good chance one of us will die, and it will be an interesting thing to behold, I'm sure.'

Rowena looked between Salazar, Hagrid and the audience, partly confused but mainly bloody angry. 'Oh, you'd — you'd better not get killed, Salazar!'

He shrugged. 'Well, since you insist…'

The anger intensified. 'You complete bastard!' she shrieked, thumping his shoulder rather forcefully, to minimal effect. 'Why can't you at least pretend to care about anything? Can't you just stop trying to be cool and sarcastic for two damn minutes?'

Salazar did neither, and the combination of his silence and smirk did nothing but embarrass her.

After a few moments of humiliated, silent rage on her part, she muttered, 'You utter—'

'I do care,' he said quietly; a little uncertainly. He finished: 'I care about some things.'

She stalled, mid-curse. For a second or so, something in her chest felt decidedly off – too far right to be her heart, and too far north to be her stomach. Something burrowed in the warm space between her lungs.

After a few seconds she managed to say, '...OK.'

The moment passed. Salazar shrugged. 'I suppose I'd better think up some actual tactics. Not exactly productive, this arguing business.'

'It's...building you up into a pre-battle frenzy,' Rowena improvised, weakly.

'Let's just get out of here, shall we? Get out of here and get back to normal.' He flexed his fingers and spun his wand a couple of times. He gave her a very brief, very curious look, and said, 'It's disgusting, the way you blush.'

Rowena put a hand to her cheek. 'Sorry?' she offered, insincerely. 'I'm fairly sure it's a natural reaction to things like heat, embarrassment and anxiety, but-'

'No,' he said, pocketing his wand, 'I mean whenever Malfoy looks at you.'

'Mr Slytherin!' Hepplewhite called, from the stage. 'If you don't enter the ring in the next ten seconds you will lose the bid!'

Before Rowena could form a response, he'd already taken to the stage.

Her mind spun. She felt odd and cold; as if she had been suddenly exposed to a high wind. She couldn't quite say what caused it.

Under her breath, and far out of earshot, she said, 'Why should my blushing matter?'

She looked at Salazar. He didn't look back.

The strange feeling between her lungs plummeted into her stomach. Get out of here and get back to normal. Yes, please.

'Mmf - I mean it,' said Godric, 'he's a very - mmf - a very dangerous man to know-'

'That's very nice,' said Helga, somewhere around his collar bone, 'very interesting. Shush now.'

Rowena leant against the side of the stage, forcing herself to stay relaxed. It took effort. From where she stood, she had a perfect view of the audience as they cheered and jeered, complete with flying spittle and pounding fists. Occasional bark-like laughs were obvious above the noise, as were grunts of pain as the jostling became too violent. They were certainly eager to watch the fight, weren't they…

No eyes were on her, at least. All attention was fixed on either Hagrid or Slytherin as they stood still, facing each other. The eagerness was obvious in Hagrid's beady eyes, as he passed his wand from hand to hand and grinned like a pig.

Salazar had his back to her, but from what she could see he was completely still, wand held loosely in his right hand and head cocked slightly to one side, almost tiredly. She could bet he had his eyebrows raised, and his eyes would be staring slightly over Hagrid's shoulder as if he was the least interesting thing in the world.

'And how's the face that launched a thousand ships?' asked a quiet voice in her ear.

Rowena didn't look away from the ring. 'Sorry?'

'Helen of Troy,' Malfoy explained, 'it's a literary reference, dear. Though, technically, you've only launched two wands, and they're happy taking their time with that, aren't they?'

'Yeah.'

'Hm.' He made himself comfortable, leaning next to her. 'Then again, I think Marley Hagrid was more impressed by the fact that you're not a man than anything to do with your face, which isn't anything spectacular by any means. If you don't mind me saying so.' He sneered and folded his arms. 'How long have you been friends with Mr Slytherin, Rowena?'

'Malfoy, could—'

'Shame it had to all end tonight, really, though I daresay you've just saved time for the future. And you might want to consider that a warning.'

Rowena shrugged.

'Silly little girl, aren't you?'

'Obnoxious little loser, aren't you?'

'Now, now, Ravenclaw. Where the hell did that come from?' He nodded to another official, who entered the ring. Rowena, frowning slightly as she tried to decipher the situation, watched as Balfour gathered Slytherin and Hagrid and instructed them something, to which they both appeared to reluctantly conceed. They then threw their wands aside, causing the crowd to cheer loudly.

Rowena turned to Malfoy and demanded, 'What's going on? Why did they just—?'

'No wands allowed,' he grinned, 'it'll last longer.'

The stance of Slytherin lost a lot of certainty. Hagrid was an enormous man, and Slytherin was by no means a physical fighter.

'Of course,' Malfoy whispered, as Hepplewhite began to lower the flag to commence the fight, 'it's always more entertaining to, as we say, tip the odds in just one man's favour…'

Rowena's eyes shot open. 'Hagrid's got a wand!'

The tent was filled with flashing light.