A/N- This was almost five pages in MLA format in a .docx file. Gah. This is a drabble from Coniunctim Una, Sumus Aeternum (The huge project I'll never finish. Check my profile for more info). Helga has been torn away from all she knew to try and discover more of her magical heritage. She and the other founders are in the process of building Hogwarts and it is a trying time for all- nothing so great could come from something easy. Helga sits and ponders the earth when Salazar gives her a welcome distraction. Ah, fluff.
The sun rose overhead and warmed Helga as she sat in early morning. Water trickling over river stones created a soft melody. She wondered at the earth and her brow furrowed. It was peaceful and easy to drown in, so innocent and deceiving in its own way. The earth was there and would be, long after her descendents were ashes upon the earth. The wild flowers, strong of smell and of will, stretched towards the sun and watched time pass as if they had all the time in the world.
Helga wondered at the dewy grass reflecting the sunlight that danced with the wind in gentle play. The soothing whispers of breeze teasing the grass comforted her. So many blades of green; indistinguishable from the other, supporting one another. A smile stretched her face when she heard soft footsteps- a welcome distraction from her thoughts. "Have you grown tired of their fighting, too, Salazar?"
"To be a flower," the man murmured, "Nodding in the sun, bending, and then rising. To be unconcerned in a sea with no purpose at all but to be."
"A poet, you are." Helga laughed. "Yet another gift I envy." Salazar sat beside her, gracefully pulling his cloak around him and tucking his wand in its holster.
Once facing her, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Why envy me? To envy anyone, envy all and everyone before me. My life...it is a rock that sits upon the sand, splintering as waves pound upon it. I dissolve; I aspire for greatness, but fall just as soon as the tide arrives. Only the waves can play and last forever."
"Your pretty words are pathetic," she responded bluntly. "Your small rock makes up a mountain that will impact the world far more than a shell of a rock by the sea. I think you are looking for pity. What has Godric done this time?"
"How can you assume it is him who has done something to harm my pride?"
Her sunny face looked amused. "When does Godric not hurt your stupid pride?"
"When he is being stupid."
"Which is often enough," she conceded. She lay back, lovingly laying her hands upon the prickly wet grass. Helga would not press for answers- he always told her everything eventually. She was glad her friend had found her beneath the sun; he was far too pale and sad. The sweet smells of fields and the warmth of the sun were the best healing she could have wanted for him; she knew from experience.
Finally Salazar drew breath and said, "Rowena waltzed in on us working on our new spell; you know, the one with Godric's hat. We were fighting again over how we should connect our minds and such and how we would sort the students and...she walks in with spell in hand and informs us that we're going to use it because our ideas were stupid."
"That sounds like her." Helga smiled fondly. "What was her spell?"
"Oh, I don't know," he groaned. "Something with metempsychis, iugovox, I don't know. It was ingenious, naturally. The nature of the spell allows us to see the surface of the user's mind- their basic personality that makes them who they are. We would not invade much farther into the privacy of our student." He avoided her gaze and instead stared at a small spider speeding over a leaf.
"Does it branch from Legilimens?"
He did not question her knowledge of the Dark spell. "There are similarities, I'm sure. I did not think of it. I did not even imagine such an enchantment."
"You concern yourself too much." Helga waved her hand. "Rowena's intellect is great, that you cannot change. Perhaps greater than your own." She shrugged as she sat up and caught his eyes. "You're being silly, and you know it. You have your own cunning and Rowena creating new spells and such with her experiments does not lessen your own brilliancy. Could she talk to snakes and breed basilisks? Could she poetically describe the beauty of simplicity? Could she attack a project with such ferocity and passion? Could she discover uses for dragon's blood of all bloody things?" Salazar stared at her hungrily. Helga sighed and said, "Would she be sitting with me, fishing for compliments and being companionable?"
He smiled a little. "I am not companionable to anyone but you, dear."
"I know." Her sadness seemed to dampen the fine morning. Salazar crushed the spider under his boot. He did not want to be friends with anyone else- he had all he needed within Helga. But Rowena and Godric, who were usually less than amiable, were good people and he could rely on them if he needed to.
"I-," his voice seemed hesitant, "- I think I do consider them friends. They just- they don't-"
"Your words fail you, Master Poet."
He snorted and then surprised himself into a full laugh. Helga's face brightened considerably and her low laugh joined his. In a softer voice, he continued, "They are good friends, and I do not confine myself to one outlet. Godric...he is a good friend to me. But we are so alike, sometimes, we clash."
"You do," she agreed. "But I can see the strength in your friendship. When Aderyn died...well, no one could improve Godric's temper but you."
"I only antagonized him until he snapped out of his stupidity," Salazar scoffed. He hid his flinch at Aderyn's name well, but Helga saw it.
"You still love her." Her voice was surprised, wondering.
"Ah, you find that you do not know everything about me."
"I couldn't imagine knowing everything about a person. That would be overwhelming!"
"Yes." He muttered.
"But you still love her."
"I never loved her."
Helga gasped. "Oh, be true! Be honest, with me; am I not good as a sister to you?"
"As a sister and more," Salazar admitted. "But I am honest with my heart when I say I never loved her- not truly. But my fondness for her still- I cannot deny that."
They were silent for a while after that. Silence always followed their conversations; but it was not an uncomfortable silence. Companionable was a good word for it, as Salazar had brought up earlier in their conversation. They understood each other, loved each other. They revealed more to each other than to any other on the earth. The witch and wizard stared out at the field and trees and flowers and brook and could not help but smile a little at having a friend.
After a few more minutes, Salazar stood up and dusted his trousers off. "I'll see you for lunch," his mouth quirked. "Do not sleep the day away amongst the flowers."
Helga nodded. After no response from her, he patted her shoulder and strode off towards the towering castle in the distance. Left to her thoughts, the witch's bright eyes dulled with pain. To be a flower. Yes, yes, that would be wonderful. To sway in the breeze of day, soaking in the warm sun. To be surrounded by her fellows, huddled together for warmth as the evening brought frost to glisten on her petals. To never be alone or sad. So many fellows to rely on, so many fellows to love. She longed for Salazar to be beside her again, to distract her from her loneliness and to comfort her with his problems, complaining of simple things like Godric and Rowena arguing over a spelled hat.
Helga fell back again and closed her eyes, straining to hear the whispers of nature. Her one comfort was the knowledge that Salazar would come looking for her with a basket of bread and fresh pastries when it came time to sup.