How Slytherin got its Reputation

... For Hedonism

The first notable occurrence of Slytherin hedonism began with the construction of Hogwarts, or more specifically, the Prefect's bathrooms. The founders argued over placement choices for their student's living space, and after much arguing and many games of Rock, Parchment, Wand; Salazar Slytherin was to find himself quite put off, and living in the dungeons of the grand castle.

It was written that after an eternity of whinging and non-stop complaining from the venerable fourth founder, Rowena (the wise) decreed a compromise was to be set. As Salazar found the dungeons distasteful, conducive only to torture and potions making (the latter of which would be a plainly disastrous pastime for anyone with even the slightest interest in personal grooming, hair care, and the maintenance of a proper manicure) two extra rooms were built to assuage Salazar's building ambition.

Both rooms were bathrooms, much to the consternation of a certain Godric Gryffindor. Salazar dubbed the Prefect's bathroom his own personal spa, and the second room his secret bathroom, filled with secret chamber pots and other secret things.

Gryffindor called it excessive, flamboyant, outrageous and ridiculously hedonistic.

To Gryffindor it denied comprehension that Slytherin would want anything else when he already had everything one could need for a lifestyle of happiness by simply having a dungeon.

Indeed, he told Salazar with much vehemence exactly how he felt on the issue, to which Salazar stated that he always knew Gryffindor was a kinky bastard, and thus the Inter-House feud which lasted for centuries began.

The first spark.

It skittered through comprehension, eventually fanning the flames of what would become a roaring, passionate inferno.

The caviar.

A certain Gryffindor glared malevolently over his table's array of jams and preserves to spy a black and gold pot standing proud and decadent on the far table by the wall, boasting it's superior spread for all to see. Green eyes glowered as a lily white hand lowered a shining silver knife into the pot, crushing the greenish blob of fine cuisine into a paste over a sliver of toast.

"Bloody Malfoy with his bloody caviar." Harry Potter grumbled.

"Hu'wa'?" Questioned his red haired accomplice through a mouthful of mostly chewed food.

"Caviar." The word flung from the brunette's mouth with as much distaste as one could muster for so fine a delicacy. "What kind of decent individual eats caviar for breakfast?"

Ron Weasley blinked and swallowed his bulging mouthful of food. "Malfoy." He said, in a self-explanatory tone, shrugging as he reloaded his fork. "He's a rich git. He'll do what he wants."

The boy with the infamous scar seemed dissatisfied with his friend's casual dismissal and turned his narrowed green eyes back to the blonde boy on the far table.

Malfoy scooped up the scrap of caviar gilt toast and consumed it blissfully, licking his pink lips slowly and moaning sinfully to prolong and thoroughly appreciate the culinary experience.

Harry found himself wetting his own lips in response to the imagined delight he felt as he pictured him in place of Malfoy (or was it the toast?). He shifted in his seat, staring guiltily at the disregarded Gryffindor jams he was somehow being disloyal to.

Pleasure.

That was the currency Malfoy was dealing with. Unbridled pleasure. Let the rich eat caviar, it's their pleasure. And Harry was fuming. It just wasn't fair. Malfoy was enjoying this culinary pleasure and Harry was not. Malfoy was enjoying his pleasure without Harry!

It was unforgivable. Irreconcilable. Incongruous. Unfair.

Hedonistic.

The next day there was a small black and gold pot of the rare poached fish eggs sitting in front of Harry on the Gryffindor table. He looked very smug as he opened it and spread it sparingly on his bread and bacon.

The saying "Ill gotten gains are twice as sweet" rang true, and each bite tasted better than the last.

Looking over to the far table with a superior twist to his features, Harry watched his blonde rival eat today without the benefit of his caviar.

Ron, the red haired accomplice, rolled his eyes as he masticated his food roughly.

Hearing the piercing cry of a descending eagle owl, both Gryffindors watched as the owl deposited a largish package on the Slytherin table in front of the blonde aristocrat.

Malfoy opened the package with much enthusiasm and a puff of steam exhaled from the box when opened.

Smug smile firmly affixed, Malfoy reached into the box and withdrew a dish of the purest silver, atop of which was perched a glistening red lobster seated on a bed of greens. The Slytherins all gathered round the delightful platter, beseeching a taste from their ice prince benefactor.

Malfoy broke off a claw and wrapped his lips around the joint, exhuming the meat with enraptured moans. Harry broke out into a sweat when Malfoy removed the claw from his mouth with a wet sounding pop.

Ron gave his friend a conciliatory pat on the back and cleared his throat of food long enough to say. "Slytherins and their seafood eh? Mental."

Glaring as Malfoy grinned triumphantly across the hall at him, waggling a lobster claw in mimicry of a friendly wave, Harry groaned.

"Bloody Hedonists."