an. I've found that I absolutely adore the founder's era and the marauder's era…so expect a lot of fics about characters from those eras in the future.

Helena watched him. Her crystal blue eyes focused on him as he leaned over a large, leather bound book. His shaggy raven hair met a perfectly shaped, masculine jawline. His emerald eyes shifted slowly as he poured over the pages. He was intoxicating. His porcelain skin gleamed in the candlelight; he was mysterious and enchanting, albeit completely unattainable.

She knew her feelings toward Godric Gryffindor were wrong. What would people say? Little Helena Ravenclaw has a school-girl crush on her professor, how darling.

The sixteen-year old shook her head bitterly, lost in thought. Even if it was wrong, there was no denying the way her heart leapt when their eyes met. Sometimes she wondered, when he was looking at her, if he held the same feelings she had hidden for so long.

Surely, he did.

Professor's eyes didn't gleam, burning with unspoken desire, when they looked upon their students.

But Godric's did, she could see it. She knew he loved her, cherished her. He wanted her.

She knew it would never be; he was too chivalrous, too moralistic. He would never dream of admitting his feelings for Rowenna Ravenclaw's daughter. If she went to him he would call her delusional, laugh her off like all of the others.

She knew better. She could practically feel the passion burning off of him from where she sat, alone. How she longed to rise and walk, her head held high, and sit beside him. She desired nothing more than to capture his lips with hers, to make him see how perfect they could be.

How would he react? Would he kiss her back, would he give her the one and only thing she truly ached for? Would he put aside his worries, his morals, for just one moment? Could he put aside everything that made their love seem so wrong to bask in the glory of how perfect they were, albeit only for a second?

Would he cast her aside and call her a fool. Would he break her heart, without a second thought… just to save an image, an image of nobility, chivalry, and morality? Could he be so cruel? Would he laugh at her, telling her that the feelings she had harbored for so long were merely the imagination of a silly school-girl? Could she handle the pain if he turned her away?

She focused on him once more, his muscular frame leaned over the table, his concentration unwavering. Should she finally do what she had hoped to do for so many nights? Was she courageous enough to finally approach him or would she turn and run like a coward, like she had so many times before?

On shaking legs she rose from the table in the corner of the library. She could feel her heart racing as she took a step away from the oak table, her mind reeling. Helena pulled her auburn locks over her shoulder as she looked at him. She took a step forward, and then another…

Godric lifted his head, his emerald eyes falling on her. He didn't move he didn't speak; he just stared. Their eyes met for what felt like an eternity and then she turned.

And she ran.

an. I know the last line is a preposition but I like the way it sounded, so I'm taking some poetic license. : ) I hope you liked this, it's a little more angst-y than I originally intended…

This is for Hedwig Black's Weekly Challenge: Prompt- Mysterious & the Honeyduke's Competition for Treacle Fudge.