A Lonely Gentleman
By Members of English Elite
Plotted by Pen D. Fox
Written by Alexia S. Luclwit
Betas: FlooCrookshanks and Tobias Glass

Rowena Ravenclaw hadn't expected the Three Broomsticks to be as full as it was. In fact, she hadn't really expected anyone to be here on such an awful night, what with the blizzard-like winds and deep s went about his reading, occasionally scratching down notes.

She took the time to study him, having seen him in here a few times before at one of the back tables. He had silky-looking black hair that contrasted greatly against his pale skin and green eyes. He was lean, and his hands had long fingers. Elegant fingers; writer fingers; whispered her mind. She3E
She took the time to study him, having seen him in here a few times before at one of the back tables. He had silky-looking black hair that contrasted greatly against his pale skin and green eyes. He was lean, and his hands had long fingers. Elegant fingers; writer fingers; whispered her mind. She squashed such mental ponderings but after momentarily concentrating on her cocoa the thoughts returned.

He looked like he would be excellent with a wand if his writing had anything to say in the matter; his words flew over the page and the pause to dip for ink seemed something of a habit for him; nothing to glance up about. She folded her hands on her lap and watched him write until her soup arrived and when he looked up there was no small amount of surprise in his green eyes.


"Milady, my deepest apologies," he stammered, "I have been working and—"

"No need," she assured him. "I was hoping not to distract you from something which you obviously seem to enjoy."

"Enjoy, ah yes, you could call it that, although I think I do this more for the advantage." Rowena leaned in to see what it was that he had been working on, and found that the book itself was Latin; a spell book of old.

"Ah, Latin!" Rowena exclaimed, delighted. "Such an interesting pursuit; and anything really worth reading is written in it."

He set aside the book and entwined his fingers around a mug of coffee, looking into it as though he could see something she couldn't. "Indeed they are; you wouldn't believe the many things I've found. I feel often as though I am breaking a law for all that I've learned."

Rowena took a sip of her cocoa; scalding the roof of her mouth. "Of such fascinating subjects you speak, but I fear I know not your name."

"Salazar, and yours, fair lady?"

"Rowena," she said and extended her hand. He took it in his own and they shook. Without breaking his gaze she turned his hand in her own. "May I read of what the fortunes have etched in your palm?" Her voice had gone soft, knowing that she could see just about anything written in the lines of fate, but she had a genuine curiosity about this man. Her mother had taught her the symbols back in their mountain home, and she had pursued the study finding it near faultless in almost ever instance.

Salazar inclined his head, and her gaze fell to the task before her. Here the lines traced a greatness such as her own, though she hadn't found hers yet and didn't think Salazar had found his either. She looked through a childhood rent with misfortune, grief and pain. His head line was extremely deep-set, letting her know that the man across from her would never let matters of love interfere with his intellectual pursuits. She also saw markings for a steadfast manner; Salazar was one never likely to be swayed from an opinion. She didn't know it then, but it was that trait that would begin their assent to glory, and be their fall from it. When she let go he once more encircled his mug with his fingers.

"And what do my hands reveal to you, Rowena of the mountain heights?" His eyes glinted with mirth of his own. She chose not to make note of the fact that he had learned something of her without her giving a reason for it.

"I see arthritis, but in one so young it makes me wonder."

Salazar set out his hands before him. "I am only bothered by it in the winter, no more than that," he replied, lifting his hands away from the mug and rubbing his right palm with his thumb. Behind him a ruckus broke out; the men whooped and one stood, sweeping a small mound of gold into a purse. The others around him either raged, or laughed far too hard to care about the proceedings. Salazar flashed his hand as a gesture of congratulations, and the winner of the night's round gave Salazar a hearty grin.

"Salazar, I've beaten them once more, ah the luck! It pours forth from me like water!"


"Ah, I wish it were but so for me, Godric. You're going to empty the coffers of Hogsmeade before you leave; you know."

"I don't think I will leave, not now; I have grown to love the country up here. There is nothing to equal a dawn over the snow, the crisp air and the constant blizzard."

Both Rowena and Salazar shuddered at such enthusiasm for rugged weather as Godric rounded the tables to greet them both. They shook hands, and Rowena saw in him a boisterous confidence that seemed to make the room brighter for the presence. He waved over a barmaid and placed an order for three bottles of rum, paid for them, and let his gaze follow the woman until she was behind the bar. After a minute his attention returned to them and he looked over Salazar's book brows furrowing. "This looks like yet another lovely bunch of indecipherable nonsense," he waved one hand at the book, "yet again. You'll die an early death, thinking about that stuff."

"Actually," he stopped taking his notes for a moment, "I intend to save others from that fate, and it seems that I have found a fellow conspirator in the Lady Ravenclaw here." He pointed his quill pen at her.

Rowena smiled and lifted her hands to the barmaid who had returned with their order of drinks. Salazar followed suit and Godric took a deep swig of his own. All three of them talked until closing, taking no note of the passing of the hours and eventually went their separate ways, but not before exchanging addresses to send owls with letters to arrange for further meetings.

It seemed to Rowena, as she opened the pub's door and stepped out into the bitter cold; perhaps her original venture into the blizzard was worth the safe haven of the tavern and the meeting of her new friends.