((Littlefinger's motives for coming to Hogwarts stolen from Camilla. Thanks!))
A short man with grey-green eyes and a goatee strolled leisurely through the Great Hall to the head table. His elegant silk blue cloak with its silver mockingbird clasp was caked with mud, but he was smiling. "I should really have a talk with that Thoros," he drawled. "
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"Buy a new coat or nightie if you wish to express your wealth. It would be more effective and healthy. I hope you are taking this advice to heart!" That said, Wolfram eyes grew a bit wider, and he clapped his hands together once. "Can I have a dragon now?"
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"No, not real gold, I'm afraid," he said, in what he hoped was a friendly, charming voice. "Arbor Gold is a wine, and 277 is the year of the vintage. If I swallowed the king's gold instead of making it, I wouldn't have lasted long as Master of the Coin." Perfect, Littlefinger thought. Just a touch of gentle humour to win him over.
Petyr felt a mixture of outrage and amusement at this young man's rude attempt at begging and his strange advice (no one had ever accused Littlefinger of spending too little money on clothing). But he desperately needed allies at Hogwarts to help him find his beloved. Perhaps this one would do. He reached into the bulging purse at his belt, pulled out a gold coin, and placed it in the blond's hand.
"Here's your dragon, but next time, you could try saying please. And what might your name be?"
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"No one's introduced you to the concept of accountability, I see," he said. Then he realized that Wolfram didn't seem like the kind to appreciate jokes at his own expense. "Forgive me. I didn't mean the coin as a bribe, only a gift." Petyr's brain processed the facts: this Wolfram was a knight, and Hufflepuff was supposed to be the House of loyalty. Perhaps he should try a different tack. "Who is this Maou you're betrothed to?"
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"Quite impressive, Ser Wolfram. I imagine it must be a great honour to be chosen as the wife...husband...man-person of the future greatest ruler in Shin Whatever-You-Just-Called-It's history."
Even someone who wasn't a prodigiously cunning and perceptive manipulator (there was no need for false modesty) would have noticed the way Wolfram's mannerisms changed at the very mention of the Maou. Petyr sensed an opening. "So, for how long have you known Shiba...Shuba..your betrothed?"
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Wolfram tilted his head. "That's a complicated question. It's perhaps been a year for Yuuri, but longer for me. Demons gage times a bit differently than humans. Why do you ask?"
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