AN: Written for a challenge on SAYS (Bella's Superstitions Challenge). The superstition was as follows: The appearance of a black dog and the white hare at Wheal Vor mine near Breage was always said to presage some fatal disaster. I also was prompted to make it Founders era, with Rowena/Salazar. So. This is my first Founders era fic, so I hope you enjoy it!
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There was the sound of wings in the air, a daw rising from its perch in a flurry of feathers and wind. Then silence, and the sun slid over the horizon in a medley of muted pinks and oranges. A wren called to its mate once, and then quieted. There was no sound for a long while in the small grove of trees, until footsteps broke the silence, followed a little after by voices.
"Are you cold, Rowena?" a male voice enquired, low and concerned. The sound of shifting fabric, and then a woman answering.
"It is bearable," she said, "but I cannot understand why this is necessary. We have hundreds of children already, why must we look for more? Godric would kill us with his endless searching."
The man answered in a sympathetic tone. "He needs to be sure of his success. For Godric, success is measured in numbers and deed. He mistakes many things; pig-headed recklessness for chivalrous bravery, for example. We know that. He means well in any case – the idea being that we teach as many children as possible, instead of letting them rot out here, uneducated."
He swept a hand around, taking in the barren coast to demonstrate his point. Rowena followed his gaze as a zephyr of sparrows whirled up from nearby brush and filled the grey dawn air with their tiny wings. She turned back to her companion with a barely perceptible sigh.
"Well, it seems a waste of time to me. We have not met a single Wizarding family whilst out here, nor has there been anything to suggest a muggle child with Wizarding powers."
Her companion sniffed irritably. "I still do not understand the importance of teaching the muggle children. It seems a waste of time and money to me. They are not truly wizards, after all."
Rowena shook her head in disappointment. "At least have the graciousness not to voice your prejudices to me. You are an intelligent man, Salazar; do not let me hear you sounding so uneducated and bigoted."
Salazar rolled his eyes. "As you wish, Rowena. It only seems, to me, that we are on a fool's errand if we wish to educate these-"
The black-haired woman cut him off with an icy look, and they continued on in silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Rowena watched Salazar walk beside her, his back straight and proud, his hands clasped behind him. If it were not for the dried mud that decorated the edges of his robes, and the slight bed-head that his normally sleek hair modelled, Rowena would have sworn he was a town gentleman taking a leisurely stroll amongst London's cobbled streets.
She sighed softly and rearranged her robes again, pulling them tighter in hopes of finding a little warmth. Salazar was a gentleman, there was no doubt about that, but he sometimes made her feel terribly alone in her views. The way he was so dismissive of the muggle-born children grated terribly with her. After all, there was really nothing different with them, no weaker strain of magical talent in their blood. No, she shook her head minutely, he was wrong, that was all there was to it, and it made her blood boil that he remained so adamant that he was right.
However it happened, of course, no matter how frustrated he made her, Rowena Ravenclaw was in love with Salazar Slytherin. Perhaps he was not her one true love, she reflected, but then she had never truly believed there was any such thing as that anyway.
Rowena was much too fastidious to find any one man completely without fault, and it was only through some twisted failing of logic and conquering emotion that she was able to say Salazar was in any way good enough, let alone that she could love him with the large portion of her heart that she did. It made her feel slightly sick, to think that logic failed her so tremendously in this one instance. Still, she did love Salazar, and he loved her, and perhaps it was difficult, and perhaps it was illogical, yet she could find no other answer than to let it override completely.
She sighed again, quietly, and Salazar turned to look at her.
"Are you certain you are not too cold, Rowena?" he asked, his robes settling around him as he stopped, his face concerned. Rowena felt a sudden rush of love for the man, but it quickly gave way to annoyance at the irrational emotion. She pulled her robes tight around her again.
"There is nothing to be done, even if I were, Salazar. Stop your nurse-maiding; we will be in the next town soon. See? Breage."
She pointed to a sign on the side of the road, proclaiming its distance. Salazar nodded, frowning.
"Two miles. Not far, then. Rowena, take my cloak, it will warm you at least a little."
Rowena shrugged and took the cloak he offered.
"If it will keep you from constantly asking after me," she said, smiling a little. Salazar smiled back, arranging the cloak around her shoulders.
"It will," he assured her, caressing the fabric at her shoulders for a moment. "Are you too tired to continue walking?"
Rowena wrinkled her nose at him. "Asking after me again," she admonished him, and then laughed lightly. "Come along, then," she said, and they walked again, the silence that followed companionable this time.
Soon their footsteps began to echo as the hills closed in around them, and the dirt road opened up into a space filled with loose rocks that sparked white in the sun, like fallen stars. There was a hole in the side of the mountain, torn wooden tracks leading into the darkness. Rowena seemed to stop breathing for a moment, and then her face cleared.
"Wheal Vor Mine," she said, and Salazar turned to her, curious.
"You know it?" he asked, watching her face carefully. She seemed to swallow, a little painfully, and then said brightly, "Yes. I grew up near Breage. My brother and I used to play here as children."
Salazar touched her arm gently. "I was not aware that you had siblings."
Rowena swallowed again, looking into the dark entrails of the mountain.
"I don't any more," she said, and then was silent. Salazar, ever the gentleman, did not press her for information, and kept a courteous distance. She felt like grabbing his shoulders and shaking him until he held her tightly.
Instead, she whispered, "He died here. It was my fault. I was careless." Her voice shook slightly, and she was silent again.
Salazar did hold her then, and she cried into his robes, clutching at the fabric and leaving oak leaf splatters of moisture on his neck. She pulled away after a moment, feeling ridiculous. It had been so many years ago, and she had thought her pain gone by now, leaving a dull ache in its place, nothing more.
Apparently, however, nothing had changed. She was still grieving, and all she had succeeded in doing was repressing those horrid emotions for all these years, only to let them out again, at such an illogical, inopportune moment.
She wiped her eyes carefully and turned back to Salazar.
"Perhaps you should stay here for a while," Salazar suggested gently, "to make your peace with the place."
The sun seemed to darken for a moment, and then Rowena took a deep breath.
"Perhaps. Perhaps that would be wise."
She paused for a moment and then settled herself on a boulder near the mine's entrance, closing her eyes tiredly. Salazar sat beside her quietly, watching her carefully out of the corner of his eyes. They were silent for a long while. Rowena's eyes closed as she watched the shadows of her memories dance across her mind, while Salazar leaned back against the stone, his arms crossed loosely.
He let the weak sun play over his face, blinking like a cat in the slow warmth. After a while, there was the sound of great paws on the path, and Rowena looked up with a start as a wolfish black dog galloped into the clearing, nipping at the heels of a white hare. The two companions were silent for a long moment, watching the animals.
Eventually, Rowena said in a low voice, "fatal disaster," and turned her head a little, looking away. Salazar watched the strange dance that the two animals performed, chasing each other in circles; death and life; it seemed to him, a circle, nipping at each others heels. And still, the great dog did not touch the hare, though he could have caught it many times over.
Rowena, watching them carefully, thought that the dog was playing with the hare, letting it think it could get away and then chasing it up close again. Any moment, she thought distantly, he would catch the hare by the legs, toss it into the air to break its back, and shred it with those gleaming teeth.
The sky seemed to take a deep breath, the sun winking sullenly, shimmering on the great dog and the hare he chased. The companions watched silently, and Rowena though that the animals reminded her of the two of them. The dog was Salazar, she thought, with his frustration nipping at her heels; letting her think she could run away from his love and then tossing her into the air to break her. She, the hare then, running away from him and everything he stood for; emotion, love, confusion.
Before she could say anything, Salazar turned to her, his brow furrowed.
"They represent us, no?" he said, and they watched the dog and hare dance around each other, seemingly in an amicable way; to Salazar in any case.
Rowena looked up, her heart beating to a strange tune; unsure what he could mean by this – the same as her? She looked to him for the answer.
"Which is which?" she asked uncertainly, and Salazar's eyes flashed darkly with mischief.
"You are the hare, I am the dog. You see? Those teeth in the dog's mouth; that is me. The purity of the hare; that is you. You understand?"
Rowena turned back to the two animals, and waited for the dog to rip out the hare's throat.
As she thought, and yet, such difference of opinion. As it always was.
"Fatal disaster," she murmured again, and the dog barked once, a surprisingly mournful sound in the clear, cold air.
"What do you mean by that?" Salazar asked, and she looked at him, her breath catching in her throat. She had tried her best, she had, to have relationships as others did – so simple, letting emotion override logic. Love, friendship; she had tried these, and it became very clear to her at that instant, watching Salazar's cautious face, that she would never be skilled at it; in fact, would probably never feel it as people are told they are meant.
The thought tasted of sour wine in her mouth, and her eyes were heavy with it – coins pressed against her eyelids until they closed of their own volition. Silence fell over her like snow; white and thick, so cold that it burned her throat. Salazar shifted against the stone, his movement almost questioning in its silence, and she turned away as a lonely tear tracked its way down her cheek, her tongue flicking out the catch the weary droplet as it passed her mouth.
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Looking back on everything that had occurred following the day at the mine, Rowena saw the path that led to her heart's destruction. Salazar's departure was so incredibly difficult for her – made harder by the fact that he seemed to find it so easy.
The argument with Godric had been quiet and secretive, and though Salazar said nothing outright, Rowena had caught the hints he had left for her in their conversations; dull pebbles in the dust of their slowly dying love.
His slowly dying love. She never loved him less, though she tried to diminish its effect on her. So now look at her; bitter and alone, staring up at the stars which shone above her. Teasing as they glittered coldly; you will never have this.
Rowena turned her head away, the image of Salazar leaning forward to kiss her goodbye curled around the thought of dog and the hare chasing each other in circles as Salazar whispered "fatal disaster" over and over, and the stars winked out one by one.
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AN: Enjoy? Please tell me!