The Flip Side

The Flip Side

Chapter Six

By breakfast the next morning the entire school had heard that Fred Weasley fancied Abby Malfoy. The Great Hall buzzed with whispers up and down the house tables. Third years and above were looking back and forth between the two, trying to make up their own minds whether it was true or not, and receiving Death Glares from Flint (who was sitting closer to Abby than normal with one arm around her shoulders and eating with his free hand). First and seconds years madly tried to find out who Abby Malfoy was (most first years weren't even quite sure who Fred Weasley was either), though they knew the name from the constant renditions of the Hogsmeade punch-up.

Fred was really getting annoyed and constantly changed topics by telling jokes. Abby simply ignored the questioning looks and inspected her fingernails, letting Flint's scowls do their job.

Finally the mail came ("About bloody time!") and all attention was diverted away from the two on which it had previously been centred. Abby looked up as her family's eagle owl soared toward the Slytherin table and first dropped a package of sweets into Draco's lap, followed by a pair of letters into her outstretched hand. She quickly checked them; neither envelope was red.

"What did you get, Abby?" Pucey said after stuffing his mouthful of toast into one cheek.

"A letter from Daddy," she replied and then pulled off the Spellotape binding the second envelope to the first. This one had no name on it. "And something else."

"What does it say?" Draco demanded of Lucius's letter. He had smiled triumphantly over the sweets but was now quite jealous that their father had written to her and not to him.

Abby carefully broke the seal and skimmed through the letter, reading the interesting bits aloud. "'I am certain that you were in no way responsible for what happened on the train, Dearest. Undoubtedly it was all down to that boyfr-' er," she stopped and read further along after a quick glance at Flint, who was busy staring down a Hufflepuff fifth year and hadn't noticed. Pucey, Higgs and Draco snickered; Crabbe and Goyle followed suit though they had no idea what was so funny.

"'So sorry you had to receive a Howler. It is so dreadfully undignified,'" Abby continued. "'Mind you, I do not want to hear of any more nonsense. Keep away from those Weasleys; they've absolutely no dignity or any semblance of self-control.'"

"How very true," Draco sneered.

"'The charm you wanted from Borgin & Burkes is on backorder. Not to worry; it should be along soon.' Brilliant," she said happily. "Blah, blah, blah - oh, 'and tell Draco that everything is in hand regarding our little discussion.' What's this then?" She looked at her brother.

"You'll know soon enough, I imagine," he replied with a mischievous smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him and tried to pretend as though she didn't care. "'My best regards to the both of you' - and there's a postscript." She raised an eyebrow. It wasn't often that Lucius Malfoy neglected to mention something in the main body of his letter. "'The unmarked envelope is for Marcus. See that he gets it, Princess.'" She looked up from the letter. "Daddy's been acting very odd lately, but I never thought I'd live to see the day he'd write to you, Marcus."

"Very odd." There was a knowing light in Draco's eyes. Flint, however, said nothing.

"Oi! Are you listening?" She poked him in the ribs.

Flint snapped back to reality. "Sorry, babe. I was miles away just then."

Abby smiled and tenderly rubbed his leg. "You need to relax. Read this; Daddy's sent it to you."

"No chance," Flint shook his head. "It'll explode or summat."

"Oh, go on," Abby scolded. "Here, I'll open it for you." She broke the seal and handed it to him. "What does it say?"

Flint licked the toast crumbs from his fingers and then accepted the letter and began to read. "'Mr Flint, I shall take this opportunity to ask you not to share this letter with anybody; it is for your eyes only.'"

"Keep going then," Pucey urged. "This is bound to be good." He (and anyone else within earshot) was listening intently.

"Sorry, Dad," Flint grinned at the letter and continued. "'Over the past several years I have taken special interest in your Quidditch matches. Admittedly, this was in order to keep a closer eye on you and to ensure your intentions toward my daughter were purely, shall we say, honourable.'"

The table erupted into laughter; Flint even had quite a time getting the last word out. Pucey actually began to choke on his toast and Flint had to reach around Abby to bang him on the back before continuing.

"'In any case,'" Flint's voice wobbled. "'I am thoroughly impressed with your playing style and your Captaining skills. Aside from a minor setback last year, Slytherin has by far the best team I have seen in quite some time and much of this is down to you.' I'm not sure what to make of this," he admitted, still clearing the last bits of laughter from his throat. "Your father's never complimented me before."

"He wants summat, I'll wager," Higgs said as he tried to peek over Flint's shoulder. Draco was biting his lip, seemingly waiting for something.

"Hold on, here it is," Flint assured his audience and pushed Higgs away. "'Therefore I have decided to personally sponsor the team this year. A set of matching broomsticks would certainly be professional. I've heard the newest model of the Nimbus series is now available-'"

"The Nimbus Two Thousand and One?" Pucey blanched and very nearly fell over backwards. Higgs began to choke now but Flint was too stunned to notice. Down the table a little, Bletchley's jaw practically dropped into his plate and the third Chaser, Warrington, spit his pumpkin juice all over Violet Parkinson ("Really now! This is getting ridiculous!"). Beaters Derrick and Bole just stared at Flint with eyes as round as saucers. Higgs began to turn purple and finally got Flint's attention. The Captain banged him on the back harder than intended.

"Is he serious?" Higgs wheezed as his natural colour returned to his face.

Flint's eyes turned back to the letter. "'I've heard the newest model of the Nimbus series is now available and it is only logical for the best to have the best. I ask only one thing in return: my son Draco must be guaranteed a position on the team. Personally, I believe him well suited for Seeker.

"'Thank you for your time, Mr Flint. Naturally, I shall be expecting an immediate reply. I trust there will not be any problems.'" Flint's voice trailed off as he came to the end. There was an uneasy silence before Higgs finally spoke up.

"Well, it's all well and good to him, but we've already got a Seeker, right mate?" He looked at Flint. The older boy didn't reply as he read 'newest model of the Nimbus series' over and over. "Adrian?" Higgs turned to Pucey, who quickly looked away and took another mouthful of toast.

Higgs looked across the table at Draco and shot him the darkest Death Glare he could manage.

*

Higgs did not walk with the others on the way back to the Slytherin common room after breakfast. He stomped into the sixth year boys' dormitory and angrily chucked his belongings about in search of his Transfiguration textbook. Pucey slid into the room after carefully peeking inside.

"Terry? Call me crazy, but Bletch has it in his head that you might be upset--" He ducked as a shinguard came flying at his head. "Right. I suppose I owe him a Galleon then."

"Thanks for standing up for me back then," Higgs snapped sarcastically. "I've worked just as hard as you or anyone on that team since I made it! Now, I get broomed for a broom, and you look the other way! I thought we were mates."

"Aw, don't be like that," Pucey groaned. "We are mates."

"You've a funny way of showing it," Higgs snarled.

"Look, you're still on the team," Pucey insisted. "Flint won't give you the push - no chance. I mean, all last year he was looking to replace Warrington, you heard him."

"Warrington's a Chaser," Higgs pointed out. "It's Seeker Malfoy's after - my position."

"But Warrington wasn't getting a lot of mine and Flint's plays, and we didn't want to pull Montague off reserve just yet - but who knows us better than you?" Pucey argued. "So you play Chaser this year? Who cares?"

"I do! I was trained for Seeker! I'm better suited! We don't even know if Malfoy's any good at all!"

"So you train him then, and work the rotten beggar till he's too knackered to mouth off." Pucey grinned and uncovered his own Transfiguration textbook. Higgs still looked uncertain. "Come on, mate, you only had one challenge as Seeker as it was, hey?" Higgs nodded. "So a new position is a brilliant challenge! Leave Potter to Malfoy - who knows? Maybe he can get under his skin enough to throw him off his game."

"Maybe Chaser wouldn't be so bad," Higgs admitted.

"Exactly. Wood won't know what hit him, Davies doesn't stand a chance, and, well, we won't even mention Hufflepuff." Pucey winked and held out his hand. "How about it, mate?"

"You're on," Higgs agreed, but crushed Pucey's hand just the same, letting him know he wasn't quite off the hook for leaving him high and dry at breakfast.

"Fantastic," Pucey nodded. "Now we'd better get to class or old McGonagall will add another night's detention to what Snape's already given us."

They hurried from the room and were joined by Bletchley, Abby and Violet, who had all been listening at the door. Bletchley grinned as Pucey dropped a golden Galleon into his waiting hand.

*

Flint had eagerly agreed with Pucey's suggestion to move Higgs to Chaser and that evening told Warrington straight out (and rather harshly) that he'd be warming the bench as a reserve that season. Needless to say, Warrington hadn't been pleased and, as Flint began his letter to Lucius Malfoy, had gone to vent his frustrations on his dorm wall, leaving a fist-sized mark (in stone, no less) in the process.

When Flint left for the Owlery to send the completed letter stating his acceptance of Lucius's generous offer, Abby grabbed Violet's hand and suggested they go for a walk. Violet understood and the two girls quickly scurried from the sparsely populated Slytherin common room.

"Abigail, what is it?" Violet asked as they climbed the stairs out of the dungeons. "Is something the matter?"

"Dunno," Abby sighed, folded her arms and leaned against the stone wall. "I suppose I was just caught off-guard or summat. After all, it's Tuesday night - first week of school - and there's already more gossip about me than all fourth year."

"You couldn't buy better publicity," Violet winked. "Any rate, it's never bothered you before."

"But it's all started at once and I've not even done ought, really, apart from kicking Oliver Wood."

"Your reputation precedes you."

"It's all down to those Gryffindors."

"Oh, they're just jealous," the other nodded, and then cocked her head to the side. "But we've been over all this, Abigail - Fred Weasley and all his rubbish isn't worth a wooden Knut. What's really putting your back up? This business with your brother, perhaps?"

"I can't understand Daddy's reasoning," Abby admitted. "All this to give Draco a chance to get at Harry Potter - that's what it boils down to. Draco only whined about him all summer." She rolled her eyes for the millionth time that day. "But Terry's my friend and I felt dead rotten not saying ought to Marcus."

"Oh, Terrence is all right; Adrian sorted him out so you've nought to worry about with them," Violet assured her. "And as for the rest of it, well, you've got to ignore it. All this rubbish will blow over by Saturday. Take your father's advice and keep away from those Weasleys - especially you-know-who. People will soon forget if they've nought to go on."

"Though I'm sure you'll do your best reminding them," Abby retorted.

"Must keep busy, after all, you understand," Violet joked.

"Oi, look out!" Abby hissed suddenly and dragged Violet around a corner at the sight of movement down the other side of the corridor. Both girls peeked out and groaned; it was Percy Weasley on his Prefect Patrol.

"That's all I need," Abby sneered and looked around. They were right outside the Potions classroom. "Let's nip in here for a bit, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," Violet nodded. "I've got better things to do than hear a lecture from Perfect Prefect Percy Weasley."

"Me and all," Abby agreed as the two girls pushed open the heavy door. The dungeon classroom was even creepier at night as the contents of the little vials and flasks that lined the back shelves glowed eerie shades of green and yellow. Somewhere in the shadows they could hear a cauldron bubbling a very thick-sounding liquid. "Let's hope Snape isn't about."

"Oh, he's probably out skulking around Professor Lockhart's office organizing a clever plan for a very unfortunate accident," Violet winked as she sat on the corner of one of the tables.

"Leaving him as the only teacher qualified to take over Defense Against the Dark Arts," Abby finished for her. "Not a bad idea. Maybe we should let him in on it, hey?"

"Oh, Professor Lockhart isn't so bad," Violet said rather dreamily.

"Oh no, not you too." Abby screwed up her face in disgust.

"Well, I mean, he's a very good teacher." Violet's cheeks flushed as she spoke.

Abby shook her head and opened the classroom door a crack. "Seriously, I hope Snape is out after Lockhart. I don't like having to hide from a bloody Weasley, but I like running into Snape even less."

"Come off it, Abigail," Violet scoffed as she tossed her hair. "Snape's always had a soft spot for you."

"Not after Sunday night he doesn't," Abby rolled her eyes and peered out into the hallway. Violet didn't say anything and both girls were quiet until Abby broke the silence again. "I wish I hadn't come back here."

Violet's head snapped up to regard her friend. "You what? Because you've fallen out of Professor Snape's favour?"

"No, no, I don't care about old Snape," Abby snorted.

"How do you mean, then?"

"I don't know," Abby sighed, listening carefully for any activity in the corridor. "I had such a brilliant year at Durmstrang - though I'm not supposed to talk about it, really. All that secrecy nonsense." Violet nodded her understanding, waiting for Abby to continue.

"And certainly I missed Marcus and that lot..." Abby waited until Violet huffed angrily. "And you love, I'm only teasing. But, well, I've got a rotten feeling about this year, and that isn't Trelawney rubbish I'm telling you either," she stated firmly. Professor Trelawney was their Divination teacher, and had a habit of making very silly and absurd predictions. "I'm just not certain I should have come back."

"Abigail, oh, you're only getting yourself worked up over nought," Violet assured her as she joined her friend's side at the doorway. "The first week is always dreadful. It will get better, you'll see."

"Well, if you're so sure," Abby smirked and then opened the door a bit more. "Here, I think the coast is clear."

"Right, let's get back then," Violet nodded and they crept out into the corridor and quietly (as was possible with a creaky dungeon door) closed the classroom behind them.

They hurried to the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and Violet was just about to give the password when the wall slid open to reveal Flint standing in the opening. He looked just as surprised to see them as they were to see him.

"Marcus?" Abby raised an eyebrow.

"I was about to go look for you," Flint admitted. "We've changed the password."

"Already?" Violet sounded skeptical. "To what?"

"Nimbus Two Thousand and One," he grinned.

"Always with Quidditch," Violet huffed as the three walked into the common room. "You lot are beginning to sound like that Oliver Wood."

"Oi! Watch it," warned Pucey from one of the couches. Higgs sat beside him, engrossed in an old book, and Bletchley was on the floor in front of the fireplace, apparently taking a nap. Draco and Pansy Parkinson, with Nightshade between them, occupied the other couch. Flint plopped himself down in the free armchair and beckoned for Abby to sit on his lap.

"Well, it's true," Violet argued, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Pucey. "There's more to life than your silly sport, you know."

"Like what?" Pucey challenged.

Violet turned to Abby for help. "Don't look at me," she said, cuddling up to Flint. "I can't think of ought."

"There's loads of stuff more important," Violet responded to Pucey's grin. "Like, err--"

"Friendship?" Pansy suggested absently, letting her eyes flutter to Draco as she pet Nightshade, who was purring happily.

"Exactly! Thank you, love." Violet smiled appreciatively.

"Funny how my best mates are on the Quidditch team," Pucey replied calmly.

"You were mates before though - oh, nevermind that, then," Violet furrowed her eyebrows and turned to Flint and Abby. "What about you, Marcus? Isn't Abigail more important than some silly match?"

"Right up until the starting whistle, aye," Flint grinned.

"Cheeky beggar." Abby poked his ribs.

"Plus, their being together is all down to Quidditch," Pucey added.

"He's got you there, Vi," Flint agreed.

Violet narrowed her eyes. "What about...studying for exams?"

"On a game day?" Pucey gasped sarcastically, seeing that she was getting desperate. "Never! Must keep focused, after all."

"And I'd suggest embarrassing the Gryffindors, but we do that in Quidditch," Bletchley said as he opened his eyes and laughed, reaching back to slap Pucey's hand. Violet scowled.

"How about Professor Lockhart's classes?" Pansy said dreamily. She'd just had her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class that day.

"You've got to be joking," Pucey groaned.

"Kicking Mrs Norris?" Flint proposed.

"Now you're on to summat!" Pucey laughed.

"Loyalty," Higgs said without taking his eyes off the book. Flint and Pucey cleared their throats and looked away. Violet bit her lip, wondering if she'd accidentally re-opened a can of worms.

Draco looked slyly at his sister. "Fred Weasley."

"Oi! Stuff it, you!" she snapped and threw a pillow at him. Nightshade hissed and jumped off the sofa, and then padded indignantly to the girls' dormitory.

"Well, nobody disagreed when I said you might've gone looking for him," Draco returned.

"You're mental, you are," she rolled her eyes, and then something occurred to her and she turned to look at Flint. "Is that the real reason you were coming to find me? You thought I'd gone off in some dirty little cupboard with him? Is that it?"

"I'm going to kill you, Malfoy," Flint growled at Draco, who was doing a bad job at containing his laughter as tears began streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, I don't believe this!" Abby jumped off Flint's lap.

"You've got it all wrong, Abby! I was coming to look for you anyway!" Flint jumped up as well. "I can't stop the little git from opening his bloody gob!"

"Aye, but he gave you more incentive, didn't he?" She had her hands on her hips.

"I don't believe any of that rubbish!" he shot back. They were shouting full on now, and had seemingly forgotten anyone else was in the room - or trying to sleep for that matter. The doorway to the dormitories was soon crowded with those driven from their beds by curiosity.

"Is that right?" Abby demanded.

"That's right, yeah! Unless there is summat to it all?"

Flint immediately regretted saying that as a darkness crossed Abby's face and a collective hush flew around the room.

"How dare you--"

"Abby, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry," Flint apologized. He was suddenly aware that all eyes were on him and shot a Death Glare into the crowd. "What are you lot staring at?" he snarled and everyone looked away until he turned back to Abby. "Just listen for a minute--"

"No, I don't think so."

"Oh, come off it, Abby," he growled and grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the corner of the room. Their conversation continued in angry whispers but they were secluded enough that nobody could hear them. Bletchley looked at Higgs who looked at Pucey who looked at Violet.

The silence was deafening.

"Well, that went well," Draco smiled and was subject to a barrage of pillows. Pansy squealed and dove out of the way.

"What are we to do?" Violet wrung her hands as the crowd in the doorway began to dissipate.

"Here, go on and have a listen." Pucey pushed her off the arm of the sofa.

"Me? What for?" Her voice raised an octave.

"Well, you hear everything! So, go and see if they're still fighting," he explained.

Violet took a tentative step in Flint and Abby's direction; both still looked upset but not quite so furious. She hesitated and then sat down again.

"No chance," she shook her head. "Any rate, you knew she had gone for a walk with me, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Pucey nodded. "So what?"

"Flaming heck, Adrian, you could have told this one to push off!" Violet waved her hand at Draco.

"Eh, I'm still here," Draco reminded her.

"Nobody stands up for anybody here," Higgs grumbled.

"You're not still on about that, are you?" Pucey groaned. "I thought we'd settled that!"

"Come on, lads, just leave it, hey?" Bletchley said.

Violet looked from Pucey and Higgs back to Flint and Abby. She was smiling coyly and he was brushing his fingers up and down her arm. "Here, see?" She pointed in their direction. "If they can patch things up, then so can you."

Higgs, Pucey, Bletchley, Draco and Pansy all looked in the indicated direction. Draco wrinkled his nose ("That was quick.") and Pansy sighed and looked sideways at him. The three older boys looked relieved, and then turned to face each other.

"Are we cool?" Pucey asked Higgs.

"Go on then," Higgs nodded.

"Brilliant." Bletchley lay back down by the fire.

"This whole bit does add to my point, though," Pucey said.

"Hey?" Higgs wrinkled his nose.

"Well, what was this whole row started over?" he asked and was met with blank stares. "Fred Weasley," he answered himself. "And Fred Weasley plays Quidditch. Therefore-"

"Oh, honestly!" Violet stamped her foot. "Only you, Adrian! I for one have had enough for this evening. Goodnight, everybody; I need my beauty sleep."

"See you in a fortnight, then," Pucey winked at her as she left, ushering the last of the stragglers back to bed.