Chapter 17: The Snake, The Tit-Witch and The Cupboard

Heather Bettany was blonde and petite, with dark eyebrows and coloured ribbons plaited into her hair. Everything, from the superior grey eyes to the expensive shoes, reeked of self-righteous perfection and, not to mince words, an undeniable aura of pure, unadulterated, puppy-kicking evil.

However, she was also extremely attractive. This had worked in her favour for seventeen years, and she wasn't about to shelve the trait in favour of amiability.

'She's obviously some rare kind of idiot,' she declared casually, to her captive audience: Jasmine King, a ginger-haired girl with an upturned nose and high cheekbones, and Magdalena Marsh, a girl with black hair and stunned eyebrows.

'Yeah,' Magdalena agreed, 'she's really…stupid.'

Heather rolled her eyes. 'It must be difficult for you, stretching your imagination to such extremes so often.'

'Yeah…'

The dampness of the dungeon walls gave the dormitory a very unusual smell, and it was by no means pleasant. To combat the problem, the Slytherin first years had been hastily thrown out and tactfully nudged in the direction of the common room's sofa.

'She fancies Professor What's-his-mush,' Jasmine said, through a yawn.

'Slytherin?'

'That's the one.'

Heather shrugged – Lord only knew how she managed to shrug evilly – and said, 'Who cares? He wouldn't touch her with a bargepole.'

'Pfft – your hair's in my mouth!'

'Get it out!'

'I can't move my arms!'

'Spit it out! Oh – but don't spit!'

'Stop moving your hair!'

'I can't, it's attached to my head!'

'Stop moving your head!'

'But then I'll eat your shoulder!'

'Argh—'

'Told you.'

'Fine; stay at that angle. Right. Hm.' Salazar sighed. 'Alright, now we know that attempting to move is a bad idea and should be avoided at all costs in the future.'

'Agreed,' said Rowena, to his shoulder.

Speaking to her forehead, he continued, 'Now, I do believe you were in the midst of propositioning me.'

'I wasn't propositioning you! I was saying that, er…' At least she was spared the indignity of blushing, as long as their eyes were clearly separated by his chin. Time to plunge on: 'I was saying that we should talk about…er…'

He waited. 'Yes?'

'…Things.'

'Very well. Let's talk about the fine workmanship of this old cupboard. Oak, do you think?'

'Salazar—'

'Definitely more sturdy than pine. Could be some kind of willow-enforced frame, although—'

'Slytherin—'

'It's definitely aging a bit. On its last legs, I'd say. Yes?'

'You know what I mean,' she muttered.

He shrugged, and in doing so injured her nose. 'Whoops, sorry.'

'Ouch!'

'You're not going to bleed on this shirt, are you?'

'No.'

'Good. Are you trying to cop a feel?'

'No!'

'Sure?'

'Yes! I'm trying to rub my nose, you…vagrant! Stop it! Stop laughing in my hair!'

'Vagrant? Is that the best you could come up with?'

'Shut up! My vocabulary's a bit exhausted today—'

'Once upon a time you could insult me for hours on end—'

'Yes, but things have clearly changed since then!'

The laughter halted, a shade guiltily. 'Ah.'

Rowena shuffled uncomfortably, as much as space would allow. 'Yeah. Well. If you could stop trying to break my face and attempt to keep on topic, I would rather like to discuss…that. Please.'

Although clearly still unwilling to discuss events, Rowena had to marvel at how well he was facing the confrontation. Perhaps because of the unavoidability of it all, or the understanding that the atmosphere would take a turn for the worse if he didn't reply. Rowena wanted to think that it had been on his mind as much as hers, but, having known him for over seven years, she found it sincerely doubtful.

'Well, then?' he asked, expression – still several centimetres above Rowena's face – unreadable. 'Talk away.'

'OK, yeah. Yeah. Alright.'

Oh Gods, now she was actually here, and he was actually just there, perhaps now really wasn't the best time to talk about it? Any word out of place carried the potential of throwing him into one of the world renowned Slytherin Moody Fits, and that could be very unbearable at such short range. Besides, she felt so stupid now for mentioning it…

'Alright,' he repeated, 'what?'

'Er…'

'Well?'

'Er…'

'Yes?'

'Er…'

'I could do this all night, you know.' He shrugged, narrowly avoiding her nose. 'Don't rush on my account; I've got nothing on. Not literally,' he added, 'don't excite yourself.'

'Oh...stop it.'

'You are propositioning me, aren't you?'

'Stop it, or I'll bite your hair.'

'You want me.'

'Stop it! I'm trying to have a serious conversation!'

'You want me bad.'

'Stop that!' she cried, slightly hysterically. 'Stop that, or I will flick your nipples off!'

Stunned silence.

'Er,' said Rowena, 'I – '

Salazar cackled.

11.25pm

Salazar ducked his head slightly. 'Bloody low ceiling,' he muttered, 'what's it for, anyway?'

'Keeping the rain out?'

'No, not the ceiling. I meant the actual cupboard.'

'Oh.' Rowena shrugged, trying her best to glance around the place for clues, but finding her vision restricted by shoulders and elbows. 'I don't know. Just an empty storage space, isn't it?'

'God knows. I'm sure it's supposed to have something in it.'

'Other than two adult humans.'

'Hm.' He blew her hair away from his mouth, causing her to flinch. 'What did you twitch for?'

'It tickled my ear.'

'What are you, a golden retriever?'

Rowena sighed, but smiled all the same. Just briefly, she rested her head against his shoulder.

She quickly pulled away again.

'Ouch!' said Salazar. 'No sudden movements, dammit!'

'Sorry!'

'Honestly.' He sighed. 'I'm not going to leave here with all my toes in tact, I can just sense it.'

'Sorry,' she said again. Then: 'How much oxygen is there in this cupboard?'

He shrugged, hitting her chin again. 'I don't know, I'm sure there's plenty. Why?'

'Just feeling a bit light-headed,' she mumbled.

11.45pm

'What in Hell's name are you doing?'

Rowena hopped slightly to steady herself, and explained, 'Clearly, Salazar, I am standing on one foot.'

'Right. Why?'

'Blood flow.' She changed feet.

'Be careful.'

'I'll be fine.'

'I'm not worried about you – but your knee is dangerously close to my left testicle.'

Rowena hurriedly lowered her leg, glad for the darkness that disguised her blush. 'Er, sorry,' she mumbled.

Salazar was unaffected. 'Quite alright. Just try not to use your joints as much next time.'

She obediently raised her right foot, just a centimetre or so from the ground, while Salazar glanced down at it interestedly. 'That helps, does it?'

'Slightly.'

'Have you tried leaning?'

'Against what? I'm a bit limited on hard surfaces in here – whoops –' she toppled slightly to one side, grabbing at Salazar's sleeve to avoid falling completely, 'Sorry.'

'No problem.'

'I'm just worried that if I lean back too far, I'll take the whole cupboard down with me.'

'Hm.' For a moment or so she held her breath, feeling his eyes on her. Then he said, 'Are you going to let go of my sleeve yet?'

She quickly did so, mumbling, 'Yep, yep…sorry.'

'No problem,' he said, again. He yawned. 'Alright, so what's the plan, exactly?'

'The caretaker should be doing a sweep at about three o'clock,' said Rowena, 'to make sure the students are all in bed. If we're not out by then, that's probably our best opportunity.'

'But someone will be past before then, won't they?'

'Oh, definitely. We'll be out by midnight.'

'Right,' he said, glancing down at her for just a second, 'good.'

12.07am

Sounding slightly amused, Salazar said, 'You still haven't asked.'

'I know,' said Rowena, defensively, 'I'm getting there.'

'Alright. In your own time, ask away.'

Rowena merely muttered under her breath to occupy the awkward pause. Bloody Salazar. She'd ask him all about his friendly lips, alright, once she'd decided on a way to phrase it sensibly. "How dare you snog me, you sexual deviant?" lacked a certain amount of subtlety, whereas "So, kissing. What's that all about?" lacked just about everything. "Fancy a shag?" was basically a non-starter.

ARGH where had that come from?

Damn you, God of cupboards!

'Alright, Ravenclaw?'

Damn you, damn you, damn you!

'I'm fine.'

'Were you just stamping your feet –?'

Damn you, feet! 'No.'

'Right.'

Damn it all! 'Er,' said Rowena, desperately seeking a change of topic, 'how much longer, d'you think, before someone gets us out?'

Resisting the impulse to shrug – as Rowena had learned to bite whenever he injured her nose – he said, 'Excellent question. I wonder if there's a rota of some sort? We might get a break every two hours for sandwiches and the use of a latrine. Then it'll be someone else's turn to stand in the cupboard.'

'Oh dear,' said Rowena, shaking her head, 'someone's feeling sarcastic today.'

'It's my reaction to claustrophobia.'

'Right.'

'Head,' he commanded. Rowena tilted her head to one side while he moved her hair from his face, patted it down and said, 'alright, done. Why is your hair so big?'

'I don't know,' she replied, moving back to her original position, 'genetics? It's not that big.'

'You've got split ends.'

'I have not.'

'Out of the two of us, who has your fringe in their eyes?'

'I don't have a fringe.'

'Whatever this part's called, then.'

'That part, Salazar, would be called hair. It's similar to yours, but much better maintained and attached to my scalp.'

His smirk brushed against her forehead. 'Better maintained? I don't think so. Two o'clock.'

Rowena glanced up, uncomprehendingly. 'Come again?'

'Two o'clock. I think we'll definitely be out of here by two o'clock, this morning.'

'Oh,' said Rowena, who personally found it doubtful, 'good. I'm teaching transfiguration at nine.'

Salazar didn't reply. Rowena took this badly.

'I am, aren't I?' she asked, looking up again. 'I'm teaching at nine, aren't I?'

'Yes,' he said slowly, 'yes, you're teaching at nine.'

'I'm teaching transfiguration at nine, aren't I?'

'Hm.'

'Hm?'

'No.'

'No? Why no?'

'Because I happen to know an unemployed transfiguration teacher who needed a favour.'

Rowena stared, words temporarily failing her. The she yelped, 'You utter tit! Don't laugh!'

Salazar grinned. 'Sorry. You're verbal skills are hilarious, though.'

She spluttered incredulously for a second or two, before demanding, 'Well?'

'Well what?'

'What am I teaching instead?'

'Hm,' he mumbled, stepping backwards as far as was possible, 'maybe I should tell you later.'

'Tell me now, or I'll kick!'

'Alright, alright! You and Hufflepuff will be teaching…'

'Yes?'

'…Cookery. Ow! Bloody Hell!'

The cupboard swayed on its hinges, while muffled cries and thuds echoed from within. Shouts of "utter tit" and "impudent toss-pot" were responded to with "bloody ouch" and "that's my nipple", then finally, "no, Ravenclaw – never touch the hair!"

12:37am

'Are you going to tell me?' Salazar demanded.

'Alright,' said Rowena, 'he said, "It's a lot smaller than I expected, but at least your wife's not complaining!"'

Salazar shook his head.

'No?'

'No.'

'Not at all?'

'Not even vaguely.'

'Not even the vicar?'

'Especially not the vicar, Ravenclaw. That verged on plain pornography.'

'Oh, I don't know,' Rowena sighed, 'Elvina told me it.'

'Well, the punch-line's very weak.'

'I don't even get it, personally.'

Salazar laughed.

'What?'

'You don't get it?'

'No, I don't.'

'You don't understand what he's talking about?'

'No,' she repeated, shuffling uncomfortably, 'I got lost when the second wizard produced a rabbit from his hat.'

Salazar sniggered again. 'I can't believe you don't get it.'

'Well! I get that – that it's rude,' she mumbled, 'and it has something to do with the muggle's wife.'

'Yes?'

'Yes nothing,' she replied, shortly, 'I'm not going to face the indignity of pursuing it.'

'That's because you don't get it.'

'Shut up. You're the one who wanted entertaining.'

'And you're going a bloody good job, Rowena. Tell me another one.'

'I don't know any others.'

'Yes you do.'

'I don't.'

'Yes you do, and if you don't tell me I'm going to fall asleep.'

'Fine, you do that.'

'Right then.'

Seconds elapsed. Rowena folded her arms, purposely catching Salazar's ribcage as she did so as a sign of her displeasure.

After a minute or two had passed, she said, 'You know I can't even cook. It'll all come back to you, you know.'

Salazar didn't reply.

'Helga's pretty good at it, but she's no culinary genius.'

Silence.

'Slytherin?' She nudged his elbow. 'Salazar? Slytherin, you tit-witch, wake up!'

Salazar obediently opened his eyes and said, 'Missing me?'

'No.'

''Night, then.'

'Stop it – Salazar! Slytherin! Slytherin!'

'Mm?'

'Open your eyes!'

'Can't.'

'Why?'

'Sleeping.'

'Oh, stop being a baby!'

'Someone's in a bad mood.'

'I'm tired and cramped!'

'Me too, so let me get to sleep.'

'Salazar! You wake up right now, or so help me God I will strangle you with my own glossy locks!'

Salazar opened his eyes. 'What have Godders and Hufflepuff been arguing about, anyway?'

Rowena simmered down enough to ask, 'Why? What do you mean?'

'Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't they bickering down the corridor a couple of hours ago?'

'Oh – er, yeah, I forgot about that. Jumping into a cupboard must've distracted me.'

'Well?' he demanded, 'What's wrong?'

'I don't know,' she replied, honestly, 'I'm sure it's nothing –'

'You don't know?'

'No, I don't. Honestly.'

'Pfft. What a marvellous friend you are.'

'I'm not her minder!'

Somewhere above her, she knew an eyebrow was being raised. 'Alright. When was your last in-depth conversation with Hufflepuff?'

Rowena rolled her eyes. 'Salazar, I'm not going to –'

'When was your last conversation with Hufflepuff?'

She blinked.

'Was it over three minutes long?'

She blinked again.

'Was it about Hufflepuff?'

'Shut up,' she mumbled, folding her arms in a vane attempt to more clearly separate their torsos, 'she's been busy. We've both been busy.'

Salazar undoubtedly smirked. 'Busy? Yes, Hufflepuff's been very busy with Godders and her house and her bickering. What have you been doing, all this time?'

Rowena mumbled something under her breath.

'What was that?'

'Plenty,' she repeated, slightly louder, 'I've done plenty of interesting and time-consuming things.'

Outside, an owl hooted and rustled the leaves of a nearby tree. Rowena held her breath in anticipation of the inevitable question that hung on Salazar's sneering lips –

'Like what?'

Like totter around after His Smirkiness, High Lord Slytherin, Queen of the Bloody Castle. Christ.

She shrugged. 'Plenty. Anyway – you're hardly one to talk! How many conversations have you had with her? Or Godders? Or even Hat!'

'Move.'

'What?'

'Shift your feet.' She obediently did so. 'Turn ninety degrees. No, that's forty-five. Better. Ok, elbows. Right, and move backwards as far as you can…much better.' He leant backwards, into the corner of the cupboard where two walls met. Through the darkness and dust, she could almost make out the whites of his eyes.

'Well?' she demanded.

Salazar shrugged, smirked, and raised an eyebrow at once. Rowena had to marvel at the skill. 'I've been far too busy.'

'You used to be friends,' she pointed out, recollections of their first year slowly resurfacing, 'you and Godric, that is.'

'No, I just used to sit with him.'

'Well, you used to sit with him, then.'

'He's my cousin.'

'But you still sat with him.'

'But I did blackmail him into doing so.'

'But you still sat with him.'

There was a mutual pause. Salazar said, 'Very little reaction from The Prudish One there, Ravenclaw.'

'It startles me how un-amazed I am at the revelation, Slytherin. And I'm not a prude,' she added, defensively. Salazar blackmailed Godric? Oh, what a surprise. Oh, how terribly unforeseen. Oh, how dreadfully predicatable.

''Course not.'

Rowena sighed. 'Alright then, tell me: why did you –?'

'I'm not a nice person, you know.'

'Well, you're hardly Doctor Love, I'll give you that. But why –?'

'Complete bastard, actually.' Rowena looked for his eyes in the darkness, but they'd disappeared under the shields of his eyelids. For one horrifically awkward moment she thought he was crying, but as he spoke again she realised he was merely attempting vertical sleep. 'Utter tit-witch, you might say.'

'Tit-witch? What are –? Oy, wake up!'

'Shush.'

'Don't shush me, wake up!'

`'Stop trying to—'

'I'm not trying to molest you, before you start!'

Salazar's eyes re-appeared as he chuckled. 'You want me.'

'Stop saying that,' Rowena mumbled, accidentally revealing far too much discomfort at the accusation. 'Why did you blackmail Godric?'

Salazar shrugged, sobering up slightly. 'It's not important.'

'You seemed to think it was. How did you blackmail him?'

'I know things,' he said, with exaggerated mystery in his tone, 'secret things…'

'Yes?'

'I'm not going to tell you.'

'Why not?'

'Because they're secret things. Nighty-night, Ravenclaw.'

'But…bloody Hell!'

2:12am

Rowena wavered for a few seconds, then demanded, 'Why did you kiss me, then?'

'When?'

'What do you mean, "when"? When you kissed me!'

Salazar smirked. 'Why did you kiss me back?'

'Pfft…' She waved an impatient hand. 'Go back to sleep!'

'Right-o, Ravenclaw.'

2:31am

'It was an accident, you realise.'

'Yes,' said Rowena, shortly, 'I realise.'

'I mean, you moved. And I moved. Simultaneously.' He waved his hands around vaguely. 'Inadvertant clashes were inevitable.'

'You didn't have to stick your tongue in, though.'

'Hm...no. I suppose not.'

2.42am

'I didn't even kiss you back.'

Silence.

'I didn't.'

'Alright.' He shifted his weight and leant on his other arm, then asked, 'How was it?'

'I wish you'd stop mentioning it.'

Salazar smirked. Rowena suddenly realised that, somewhere along the line, she'd failed a test. Miserably. She may have been too tired to think straight, but somewhere in her mind the thought persisted: do not go to sleep, Ravenclaw, do not go to sleep! Sleeping in a cupboard with Salazar is the card at the bottom of the house – you do that, the whole damn thing collapses. Just imagine if Helga was in here with you; what would she say?

Good thing she's not in here, it'd turn into a dry orgy.

That's beside the point. Just try not to kiss him this time.

Hang on – was Rowena suggesting Rowena couldn't control Rowena's own lips?

How many Rowenas were in the damn cupboard? Surely one of them could afford some shut-eye…

'Ah,' said Salazar, interrupting her – for want of a better word – thoughts.

Rowena raised her head, groggily. 'Hm?'

'I've remembered what this cupboard's for.'

'Huh?'

'This cupboard,' Salazar repeated, 'I remember what we keep in it.'

'Yes?'

'Frogs.'

Rowena choked. 'Fr…what? What?'

'Frogs,' he repeated, 'that's why the ceiling's so low. There's a shelf above our heads with frogs on.'

Rowena quickly ducked her head into Salazar's forearm, grasping at his shirt and shaking it hysterically. 'Dead ones?' she demanded, 'Dead ones?'

'Not live ones, obviously!'

Rowena squealed as he attempted to shake her loose. 'In jars? Are they in jars?'

'Well – '

'THEY SHOULD BE IN JARS!'

'Well, that one isn't – '

'Muaaaaauuuuuugh!'

To different people, this high-pitched wail and desperate flaying of limbs suggested different things. To Rowena, it meant: Frogs frogs frogs sweet argh no no no is it on me? Is it on me? ARGH it's on me isn't it? Hair! Slimy green NO NO NO NOOO

To Salazar, the noise suggested Rowena was in a state of considerable distress.

To an innocent bystander, it suggested that somewhere, not too far away, a cow was being born.

It was only the sudden jolt of the floor, the flaying of limbs and collapse of the walls that suggested something was truly awry. Rowena had time to scream, gasp, and grab onto the nearest parts of Salazar's anatomy she could get her hands on, before the cupboard fell forwards and tumbled to the ground.

Wheezing commenced. Rowena held her breath.

Above her, Salazar exclaimed, 'Christ in a dinghy!'

2:44am

After thirty seconds of so of silence, Rowena felt one of them had to assess the situation. 'Salazar,' she said, as calmly as possible, 'we appear to be in an awkward position.'

'I believe you're right, Ravenclaw,' he replied, equally as calm, 'as we appear to be in a cheaply made coffin for two.'

'Yes,' said Rowena, 'also, you appear to be laid on top of me.'

'Ah, there I beg to differ.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes. I believe that you appear to be laid under me.'

'Fair point well made.'

'Thank you.'

'Salazar?'

'Yes?'

'There were never any frogs in here, were there?'

'No, Ravenclaw. There were not.'

'I see.'

'That was, in fact, a scheme of mine, to encourage you to break open the cupboard door with an unnatural, fear-acquired strength.'

'I see.'

'I didn't work.'

'No. No it didn't.'

Rowena attempted to move her head. Unfortunately, her head was directly underneath Salazar's head. In fact, his thin, dagger-like nose was against hers, and they were currently enduring a very direct staring competition. She'd never realised how difficult it was to speak from the corner of her mouth until that moment, when neglecting to do so could result in bad things. The phrase "I wish the ground could just open up and swallow me" had never seemed so apt.

'Ravenclaw?'

'Yes?'

'You look quite good from this angle.'

…Come again?

'Hello there, Professor.' Oh God. Light. Horrible, horrible candlelight as the door flung open, and a blonde, petite face appeared above them. 'What are you doing?'

Salazar half-smiled and sprung to his feet. Rowena exhaled and remained stationary.

'Morning, Heather,' he said, stretching his legs, 'what are you doing up?'

Rowena, laid in her nice wooden tomb, observed Heather's amused grin as she replied, 'What are you doing in a cupboard with…her?'

'It's an amusing story, I'll tell you it one day.'

'Fair enough.'

He kissed her cheek. 'Go back to your dormitory, then.'

She smirked. 'Alright, Sally.'

'Coming, Ravenclaw?' He looked down at her and observed, 'You look ill. Are you ok?'

'I'm fine,' she squeaked.

'See you, then.' Heather laughed as they made their exit, and Rowena was left staring at a dark ceiling.

Beneath her breath, she said, 'I think you just punched me in the stomach, that's all.'