Title: Let It Break
Rating: K+
Pairings: Mentions of Helga/Rowena and Salazar/Gryffindor.
Disclaimer: HP=Not Mine


She won't let her in. She won't let anyone in. They'd once shared so much, but now… in her darkest moments, even Helga is barred from her presence.

She wishes she'd held onto Rowena while she had her.

"Rowena," Helga calls out through the cold, closed door, even now knowing it is. "Let me in, honey."

The door stays shut. Which says just about everything, really.


"Do you think she's happy?" Rowena asks Helga, months later. Even after all this time, she can only just bring herself to talk about the daughter she loves so much.

"If I did not think that, I wouldn't be here sipping tea with you," Helga replies kindly. "Would you like another biscuit?"

"It does dreadful things for my figure," says Rowena hesitantly.

"Rowena," Helga says severely. "You're a hundred and ninety-three. It's the twilight years of our lives. Start indulging more! Merlin knows I started doing that decades ago." She pats her comfortably plump middle. "Besides, we've been painted in all the portraits we'll ever need to be. I for one won't sit for another one; all these ghastly wrinkles would make me look like a hag!"

Rowena allows herself a small smile; Helga takes that as a victory. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Rowena quotes.

"And if we are referring to you looking at me, then the eyes of the beholder are beautiful indeed," Helga quips. "Really, Rowena, have a biscuit."

"What would I do without you?" Rowena asks, and accepts. There is silence for a moment, and then she sadly adds, "They do not taste the same anymore. They haven't since she left."

"I know," Helga says.

"Do you?" Her voice is bitter.

Helga surveys her dearest friend over her favourite badger cup. "Of course I do. She might not have been mine, but she was like a daughter to me as well."

Rowena suddenly looks shamefaced. "Of course, Helga. I must apologise. I fear I've been selfish in my grieving. I forget what she meant to you also."

"We all make our world narrower when we lose someone," Helga says gracefully. "I shan't hold it against you."

"You should, you know."


Godric is already waiting for her as she walks down to the lake, leaning on that damned sword of his. She's told him to just put it away; no one's going to challenge him to a duel in Hogwarts. It's such a violent weapon; Helga worries it'll give the children bad ideas. But she says nothing as she strides past him and into the lake.

He is still standing there when she exits it half an hour later, sodden and dripping. Before she can cast a drying charm, he pulls out his wand and does it for her.

"Are the merpeople settled yet?" he asks good-naturedly.

Helga brushes the loose strands of hair from her eyes. "Oh, you know," she shrugs tiredly. "They're still saying that there won't be enough room when the population starts to grow, and they will not cease asking what was wrong with Loch Ness."

"What did you tell them?" Godric asks as the pair begin to walk back towards the castle.

"The same thing I always tell them," Helga replies. "Their home is the chosen breeding grounds of a giant kelpie and they get irritable when pregnant. It would eat them all, most likely."

"What did you say about their population problem?" Godric asks.

"I told them to emigrate."

He laughs at that, and they walk for a few more minutes. By the time he breaks the silence to bring up the issue he came to discuss, his expression is solemn once more.

"How is she?" he asks.

"Very well, considering the circumstances," replies Helga.

"And if we don't consider the circumstances?"

"She's terrible."

"Has she told you why Helena ran away?" Godric asks.

"No." Helga sighed. "And I'd really hoped that Helena would be get in contact with me by now. She has to realise that we are only concerned for her, surely?"

"I'm sure she does."

"Even if she doesn't talk to her mother," says Helga, "she could have at least come to me."

"I'm sure she would, if there was a problem," Godric reassures Helga. "You always were her favourite. Her lack of contact must simply mean that she is doing fine."

"That's why I thought…" Helga trails off and shakes her head. "Never mind. We mustn't fret too much. Helena is a capable young woman."

"She was raised by the best," Godric comments.

Helga blushes. "Well, we did what we could," she says. "Although if it had been up to Rowena, she would never have spent a moment doing anything but study."

"You two balanced each other out," says Godric. "It was one of the many reasons you two were so good together."

"Yes, well," Helga says. "All that's done now."

"I don't mean to pry," Godric said, prying. "But why exactly is that?"

Helga pursed her lips. "It's complicated," she said.

"Isn't everything?"

"Quite." They walk in silence for a little more, before Helga speaks again. "The flames are gone now, I suppose," she muses. "Even if we could work through everything that divided us. It wouldn't be worth it without that fire, that passion. We still have our friendship though. In a way, it's so much better. More comfortable, if you can understand that."

"I'm not sure I can," Godric replies. "Salazar and I… well, you could describe our relationship in many ways, but I don't think comfortable was ever one of them. That was what destroyed us. We couldn't settle, or compromise. We wouldn't allow the other to win. And it all built up until that day when I drove him away."

"He drove himself away," Helga says. "If he came through those doors tomorrow seeking repentance, we would all forgive him a heartbeat."

"He won't though."

"No. He won't."

There was more quiet.

"Do you think that's when it all began falling apart?" Godric asks. "When he left?"

"I don't think so," Helga says. "You seem to assume that we're broken; you and Rowena both. You think we need fixing."

"And you don't think we do?" Godric asks sceptically.

"No, I don't believe we do," Helga says. "I think that things change. It's their nature. And we must move with it, no matter where it takes us. It isn't good or bad; it just is."

"You make it sound so easy to accept."

She looks at Godric pityingly. "We don't have a choice in the matter, dear," she says.


She speaks such wise words, but when she sees the spectre haunting the steps of the Ravenclaw tower, it breaks her more than she could possible imagine.

"Oh, Helena dear," she says sadly, like she's said so many times before. "What have you done now?"

Those words are wrong, somehow. They were what she'd said after a three-year old Helena had tripped and skinned her knee, or when she'd broken something expensive or precious. They were what she said when Helena had accidentally made the top of the Astronomy tower fall off.

This is so much worse.

Helena turns and sees the woman who'd mothered her since she was a child with tears streaming down her face.

"I made a mistake, Aunt Helga," she says sadly, a sob making her voice catch. "Such a big mistake. I'm so sorry." She begins to cry.

"Hush now, child," Helga says. She reaches out her hand in attempt to pat Helena's arm comfortingly, but her touch just goes right through her.


A/N: There is slight historical/canonical inaccuracy here. Firstly, I'm not certain that Rowena's age is possible, so apologies for those liberties taken. Secondly, I'm aware the social stigma of 'thinness' being attractive was debatably not considered to really exist in the 11th century (most people qualified to discuss the matter agree it came in around the same time as Hollywood). Nor did was "Beauty in the eye of the beholder" an accepted quote. I debated about changing that segment, but decided that it's my story and I'll do as I please. :D

I also must apologise for my failure at Brit-writing. Helga and Rowena don't sound like they come from 10th century Wales and Scotland because I'm a Kiwi and I have no idea how to write that.

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