Disclaimer: I own nothing here, just writing for fun.
Helga smiled and closed her eyes against the light of the afternoon sun, feeling its crisp waves seep slowly into her reddened cheeks, bleaching the curly mane of gilded hair spread haphazardly around her. She took a few calming breathes, releasing the tension of another day as the smell of spring filled her lungs. As she lay still upon the grass, a gentle breeze began to stir, bringing to her ears the soft sound of birds taking flight, and the unmistakable crunching of footsteps over dried grass.
"Helga, you look positively rustic," a deep voice drawled above her as a shadow fell across her face. Helga gave a sardonic smile, opening her eyes to gaze upon the countenance of Salazar Slytherin, almost laughing at the ever serious expression on his face.
"Forgive me, Salazar, if my manner offends you. Perhaps it is rather beneath my station to lie so brazenly upon the grass. Would you think more highly of me if I donned a black cape and spent my days alone in the dungeons?" she teased, extremely satisfied to see a playful smirk cross Salazar's lips.
"Touché, good lady," he murmured, offering his hand in assistance as Helga moved to a sitting position. She smiled warmly at him as he continued to stand above her, his cold, hard, handsome features shockingly out of place amidst the cheeriness of the grounds. She quickly turned her gaze toward the lake when her stomach gave a familiar flutter, fearful that her eyes would give her away.
"What brings you out this evening?" she inquired softly as she watched the sun slowly sinking behind the mountains.
"Trouncing Rowena's efforts," he said mischievously, his eyes glinting wickedly. Helga laughed despite her best attempt to frown in disapproval. It was no secret Rowena fancied Salazar, her attempts to claim him for her own blatant to the world. Helga loved her friend dearly, but she could not help but find Rowena's persistence foolish; an insult to her vast intelligence.
"I do not understand why you spurn her advances," Helga chuckled, turning to face him once more. "I know many wizards that would be overjoyed to have her at their side, fair and wise as she is."
"Do not be so modest, Helga," he replied quietly, his brow arched in an almost alarming manner. "Nary a lad would deny your hand should you be so bold as to offer it."
"All evidence to the contrary, I assure you," she giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. And then, quite unexpectedly, Salazar stooped to her level, his dark robes brushing against the back of her hand. She gasped slightly as he gently touched her cheek, his fingers comfortably chilled against her burning skin as he pulled her mouth to his lips. The world seemed to melt away at his touch, exciting and somehow forbidden.
Their kiss burned with a disquieting intensity, leaving Helga's skin tingling long after Salazar pulled away. She sighed in slight disbelief, her eyes searching his expressionless face for answers. Then, just as quickly as he'd come, he departed, leaving Helga with not a word or a second glance, her mind spinning in the setting sun.
Helga shivered and shook her head sadly, willing the haunting memories of her past to leave her mind. It was impossible to believe that such times had existed, that the rabid hatred now choking her life was once an unfathomable nightmare, rather than a cruel, gripping reality.
With a grimace she stepped out into the dreary fog, her vibrant yellow cloak turning an earthy brown in the cold darkness of the morning. She pulled her hood lower over her eyes as she moved, blocking out the stinging wind, undeterred by its shrill cries of warning. She was determined to brave the elements, face this challenge no matter the consequences. To hold her head high and embrace one last storm
A storm. That's what their love had been. Terrifying and strangely exhilarating. And Salazar… he was the heart of the tempest, unpredictable and wild, his affections waxing and waning from the start like torrents of rain. And she had willingly walked into his embrace, naive and clueless, searching in vain for a rainbow at the end of the rain.
Do not belie yourself, Helga, her mind scolded as she stumbled through the mist. She was never a stranger to Salazar's cold manner, nor had she been like a blushing child when she'd entered their intricate game of love and lust. She had willingly walked into the lair of the snake, fully knowing that she'd soon suffer a biting sting. She'd been willing to take the pain, if only to enjoy the time between the beginning and the end.
The beginning felt like a pleasant dream now, a time when their largest concern was whether or not to make their relations known. Godric had always doted on Helga like a mother hen, perceiving her youthful charm as abounding innocence; he would never have approved of their courtship. And Rowena. Long after she'd discovered the truth of their affair, Helga had seen the pained look of betrayal burning in her friend's eyes.
But somehow the hours of scheming and girlish whispers had all been pushed aside the moment she'd seen a chance. The opportunity to be at his side...and to visit his bed. And he'd bedded her well for a time, his love-making a physical attack on her senses unlike anything she'd previously known, no doubt forever jading her perception of any future jaunts. She knew no other suitor would bring her the same level of passion.
It was that intense passion, she realized belatedly, that had been their downfall. Not just to their union, but to their friendship as well. His unbending pride mixed with her unyielding resolve and that of the others; a brew too toxic for any alliance to survive…
Salazar cursed under his breath, uncharacteristically shaken from his fight with Godric, anger coursing from his body as he made his way to the dungeons. He waved his wand wildly, gathering his belongings at a harried pace, determined to leave the castle by nightfall.
He suddenly stiffened in his motions as he heard agitated footsteps in the hall outside his chambers, knowing without looking who to expect as the door lurched open.
"What has happened to you?" Helga whispered from the doorway, her voice tight with anger. "The Salazar I knew would never attack someone out of rage… especially his best friend."
"If I recall if was, in fact, Godric who cast the first spell. Perhaps your chirping would be better spent in his ear."
"He should not have challenged you, but you could have ended it…"
"I thought I had," Salazar cut her off, a furious glint in his eye as he turned to face her. She looked slightly ill at his candor, her body visibly withdrawing from his gaze.
"So this is it then," she said sadly, shaking her head in disbelief. "You will just leave the school, not another word, no attempt at compromise."
"What compromises have any of you offered me?" he spat, continuing his packing with renewed fire. "Each of you seems perfectly content in allowing the Mudblood filth to enter our midst."
"Those Mudbloods as you call them are wizards, Salazar, just like you or I-"
"NO, Helga! They are not like us. Each one will be a disgrace to the name of this school the moment they darken our steps and halls."
"Our kind is dying out! We need the Muggleborns-"
"You are even worse than he is," Salazar suddenly spat, taking an angry step in her direction. "I thought Godric was forsaking his pureblood name with this nonsense, but he's nothing in comparison to you. You'd gladly take them all in, shelter the most pitiful of the lot from the world, letting them cling to your robes with their sullied hands."
He slowly slunk in her direction, his face twisted in unfamiliar fury. Helga stumbled backwards, her back sharply hitting the cold oak door as she fought to hide her rising worry. She couldn't face him like this, couldn't bear to see the little kindness left in Salazar's heart disappear with his swelling pride. Fighting back tears Helga ran from his chamber, seeking solace out on the grounds and not daring to meet his eyes again, even as she watched him flee the school some hours later.
Helga blinked the condensation from her lashes and stared hard at the cottage before her. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she'd hardly realized her fast progress; she could hardly believe she was standing outside his door, waiting, terrified, for the moments that lay ahead. It had been nearly two months since the afternoon Salazar had left, and she'd heard not a word of his whereabouts, nor any sign of where they now stood, as friends or otherwise. It was the silence that eventually drew her out of the castle, leading her to his old home, in hopes that she might find him.
As she stared at the closed shutters and the quiet, seemingly deserted lot, she felt her resolve weaken. It was only the faint trickle of smoke rising from the chimney that kept her rooted in place, determined to see this through no matter what. Helga needed to formally end things. She knew it was folly; he'd made his feelings known the day they'd parted. And yet she knew she'd find no peace until she saw him, just one more time. She needed to speak her mind, to tell him everything she'd been too afraid to say. Only then could she leave her feelings behind her.
She'd been replaying the last words he'd spoken to her for weeks, hearing his anger, how he'd accosted her like nothing more than a filthy blood traitor. She'd known from the start that they differed in opinion on that subject matter. The arguments over blood purity were born long before she and Salazar had come together, and had been a common ground of disruption in the months leading up to that final day. Even after Salazar's departure it remained a constant topic within the walls of the school, a never ending reminder of Helga's regrets, and of the wounds that his angered words had caused.
With a steadying breath she crossed through the gate, approaching the door, her wand unconsciously grasped out of reflex in the pocket of her robes. Just steps away from the porch the door swung wide on its hinges, billowing open to reveal a tall, domineering figure.
"Helga, what an expected intrusion," Salazar drawled, turning idly and walking back into his home. Helga frowned a bit, following his fleeing form through the doorway, shutting the door against the frigid wind.
"I will not apologize for intruding on your solitude, Salazar," Helga said bluntly as she lowered her hood, not bothering to remove her cloak: this visit would not take long. "I simply came to wish you luck in your new life… and to bid you farewell."
"You traveled quite a long way just to say goodbye," Salazar noted, watching her askance as he settled into a wooden chair in the corner. He smirked as he watched her ruffle slightly; she always hated it when he saw through her actions so blatantly. "Why don't you tell me the real reason you've come?"
Shaking her head in frustration Helga crossed the room, her cloak billowing behind her, coming to a halt directly in front of Salazar, her hands clenched firmly at her sides. "I came to tell you I am sorry," she said quietly, "not for my decision about the Muggleborns, but for everything else. That you decided to leave, and under such brash circumstances. That you no longer consider Rowena, Godric, or myself among your allies. That you are more content to live your life alone that among those that care for you. But more than anything I am sorry that I allowed my heart to fall under your spell so completely, knowing that things would inevitably end this way."
Salazar visibly faltered at her last statement, as though he'd been unprepared for such a blunt declaration of her past feelings. He stirred in his chair, as if searching for something to say. As the moments passed in utter silence Helga's features grew pale, her hands trembling ever so slightly at her sides.
"Did you care for me at all?" she finally demanded on a whisper, angry tears forming in her eyes, unable to believe her audacity in asking such a question. She gasped and flinched when Salazar suddenly rose from his seat, crossing the distance between them in two fast strides, clutching her wrists in his hands.
"You doubt it?" he spoke, his tone gentle but demanding. Helga dropped her gaze to the floor under his startling glare, unable to answer as she sought to control her emotions.
"I do not doubt that we enjoyed one another, Salazar," she murmured, "and on many levels. But I have always wondered where my desire for you comes from, how I can burn in longing for someone so different than myself. Even when I knew the end was coming I came to your side without falter. During those times I would try to convince myself that you were experiencing similar pains, knowing this would most certainly end… but now I doubt that you feel any such loss in losing my hand."
As she finished her words she finally raised her head, meeting his gaze, her breath catching in her throat. His eyes were blazing with indefinable emotion. His hands felt like cold, hard metal on her skin as he continued gripping her wrists. And then, quite suddenly, he pulled her forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, caressing her with that familiar passion she'd nearly forgotten. He didn't wrap her in a loving embrace, or try to cradle her close. He didn't make any attempt at changing their reality. This was their goodbye, a final touch between two lovers, torn apart by pride and personal differences.
Helga felt one small tear finally escape her gold lashes, trickling unhindered down her cheek as Salazar pulled away. He lightly rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands before releasing her, stepping away, his gaze never leaving her face. Slowly she crossed the cabin, pulling the door wide and bracing herself to re-enter the storm.
"Goodbye, Salazar," she said quietly as she met his eye one last time, a rueful smile on her face as she disappeared from his sights, his faintly murmured goodbyes swallowed carelessly by the howling wind.
Braving the Storm by Gryffinpuff
Chapter Notes: I wrote this story months ago for a rarepair exchange. It was my first attempt writing the Founders, so feedback would be lovely =) Special thanks to Sarah for reading over this for me.