"'Naturally, naturally,' murmured Dumbledore apparently tohimself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. 'But in essence divided?' ... The smoke serpent ... split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. ... The clinking noise slowed and died, and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze, and vanished." --Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, p. 470, by J. K. Rowling
Clouds skidded silently across the smooth bowl of the sky as if they were trying in vain to clean up the rest of the day for him, but he knew it wouldn't work. The events of the day were irreversible, as far as he knew, but, lying here in the high grass underneath this tree with the muddy creek winding blearily downstream, he could ignore it for a while. Turais, his white horse, slowly made his way around the field as if searching for some form of amusement that didn't come.
Godric Gryffindor had a lot to think about. His father had just informed him of his betrothal to a woman he didn't love, a woman he didn't even like. Oh, it's not like she's terrible, he tried to convince himself. But she's just so… perfect. She always did what her parents told her, she was perfectly lady-like, and her manners left nothing to be desired. Helga—Helga, he thought disgustedly, why must she be named Helga?—was a hard worker, a kind young woman, and she was certainly intelligent and a capable witch. She was everything a member of the House of Hufflepuff should be.
But he didn't want her, not ever. Not if she was the only woman left in the entire world. Godric would not marry Helga Hufflepuff. He twirled his wand idly, sending a soft stream of purplish-gray smoke swirling up into the air and watched it until it faded out into nothing but memory, then he yawned and sighed.
As if his stream of smoke had summoned his friend, a second young man rode up on a jet black horse and hopped off, running the remaining distance to speak to his friend. The black horse walked over and greeted Godric with a rather wet horse-kiss.
"Good afternoon, Ophiuchus," mumbled Godric, patting the horse. Then he turned to the man who had jumped off Ophiuchus. "Afternoon, Salazar, how're you?"
"Well enough," said Salazar Slytherin as he flopped down on the grass beside Godric. "Your father sent me to look for you. He's not pleased with you at all, Godric."
"And I'm not pleased with him. I've had a terrible day so far, and I sincerely hope yours has been better."
"Well, mine's been normal. What happened to yours?"
"I'm engaged."
"Oh? I didn't know that," said Salazar, looking rather hurt that his friend hadn't chosen to tell him so much earlier.
"Neither did I. Arranged marriage, just as a proper young wizard should have."
"To who?"
"Helga Hufflepuff." Godric let the words drop and lay flat as he continued to stare straight up at the sky.
"Well, she's not so bad, mate!" Salazar grinned and slapped Godric on the back. "Pretty enough, and she does like you quite a bit…"
"I hate her," he said miserably. It wasn't true at all; he didn't hate her in the least. He was simply indifferent. "Anyway, she doesn't want to be married to me any more than I want to be married to her. She's had her eyes on Cepheus Black for as long as anyone can remember. Maybe I'll just run away and let her marry Black. I don't care two unicorn tail hairs what she does."
Slytherin shrugged and ran a hand through his long, messy black hair but otherwise gave no response, so Godric asked, "What about you, 'Zar, who're you getting engaged to?"
Salazar let out a short, harsh laugh. "Like my father cares. Ever since my mother … died, all he does is sit up in his astronomy tower and stare out at the stars. You know her name was Andromeda and that's the only star he'll ever look at." Godric knew well that Salazar didn't think much of his family. He hissed a soft melody, no more than a moment long, and then continued, "I don't much like the idea of getting married." By this time, a small grass snake had slithered up onto the dark man's hand in response to the short verse and Salazar raised his arm to look at it directly. He hissed softly to it and it hissed even more quietly back. Godric looked away. It made him uncomfortable when Salazar spoke to the snakes. He was the only one in the town who had the ability, and, as far as Godric knew, the only one period.
When the snake had gone on its way, the two young men let silence fall between them. It didn't matter; they'd been friends so long that silence seemed to them as natural as laughter. Godric watched Slytherin discreetly.
Salazar would never settle down and Godric knew it well. The House of Slytherin was known for its handsome men and beautiful women, every one of them as magical as dragon heartstrings, and Salazar, it seemed, had received all of the best traits. He had long, shining black hair and piercing green eyes that stood out dramatically from his pale, narrow face. Tall, lean, and handsome, he had received attention from women all of his life and was more knowledgeable of certain subjects than Godric feared he would ever be. Godric had never known a woman, but Salazar… Salazar Slytherin must have had at least ten, and Gryffindor knew it was just a matter of time before the current object of the Parselmouth's affections, the young and lovely Rowena, third daughter of the House of Ravenclaw, would become the eleventh.
"Well, mate," said Slytherin, getting to his feet, "if you decide to run away, I might come with you. If you don't mind me bringing Rowena along." He winked at his friend and then went on, "But right now, come back home. There's plenty of time for running away later in the day. Besides, what would you do if you ran away from here?"
"Start a magic school," Godric mumbled, and let Salazar help him to his feet.
"Remain a virgin for the rest of your life," laughed Salazar.
"Good. I'll be happy about that, anyway."
"You don't know what you're missing…"
Godric pulled himself up onto Turais and started back towards his home, leaving Salazar on Ophiuchus to catch up with him.
Rowena Ravenclaw was half-asleep when a young woman woke her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Yes, Mercy?" she asked sleepily.
"Miss Helga Hufflepuff's here to see you, m'lady," said Mercy. She nodded to Rowena, who set aside the needlework she'd been falling asleep over, and left the room.
Helga hurried in and sat down beside her friend. "You won't believe what happened this morning, Rowena," she said in a rush.
"I bet I will," replied the youngest Ravenclaw. "Tell me anyway."
Helga began to tell her story as Rowena listened calmly. The Hufflepuff was upset; her round face was bright pink with emotion and her normally tidy blonde hair was flying out in wispy strands that made her look more than a little insane. Her pale blue eyes were round as goblets as she said, "My mother told me today that I'm to be married to Godric Gryffindor by Lammas this year and we went over to the Gryffindor manor this morning to see them and, oh, Rowena, I don't think he likes me at all and I won't be able to stand being married to him if he doesn't like me and I don't want to marry him in the first place and—"
"—And you're in love with Cepheus Black anyway," Rowena finished matter-of-factly.
Helga looked up at her friend suddenly. "What?"
"You're in love with Cepheus Black," stated the brown-haired girl. She grinned at the stricken look on Helga's face. "Yes, Helga, we all know about that."
"You do?" Helga looked crushed.
"Of course. I'm not stupid, dear," she said, her voice gentler now in response to her friend's obvious panic. "You talk about him more than anyone else." She paused. "And I don't blame you. He's very good-looking. Not as good as Salazar, mind, but pleasant enough." In Rowena's mind, no man could hold a candle to Salazar Slytherin. They looked similar enough from a distance, Slytherin and Black, both tall and thin with long black hair, but up close, Slytherin's face looked rougher, wilder, and Black's was more tame. And Rowena would bet anything she owned that Salazar was a better kisser, but she kept this to herself.
"Rowena!" Helga moaned. "What am I going to do?"
"Marry Gryffindor and have an affair with Black," she suggested.
Helga frowned. "I can't do that…"
"Why not? It's not as if Gryffindor really wants to marry you either."
"But it's just… You just don't do… I can't, that's all, Rowena. I can't marry him and I can't not marry him."
Rowena shrugged her narrow shoulders. "What if Cepheus asks your father if he can marry you? Would that help?"
"I don't know," replied Helga gloomily. She fiddled nervously with the fabric of her yellow dress. "My parents are quite insistent."
"You could always leave, you know," said Rowena carefully. She was supposedly betrothed to Albion Malfoy, but she had no intention of marrying him no matter what her parents said.
Helga had obviously remembered this, too, because she asked, "What are you and Slytherin going to do when Albion Malfoy tries to marry you?"
Rowena grinned and stood up. She walked over to the window in the attic where she'd been "working" and leaned against the frame, still smiling happily. She stared out it as she replied, "He says he'll ride by the wedding on that black horse of his and kidnap me right before we say our vows. Then he'll take me up north where no one will find us. And if he doesn't get me in time, he'll kill Malfoy and take me away under the pretense of comforting me after the loss of my dear husband." Both women sighed at the thought and then Helga stood up, straightening her skirt.
"Well, I said I'd be only half an hour. I ought to go home."
"Very well," said Rowena, coming back to herself. "Nice to see you again, Helga. Let me know if you think of anything."
Helga nodded and left the room, carefully pinning her hair back into place.
"I will not hear any more discussion of the subject," roared Averill Gryffindor to his son. Godric glared at his father.
"But if you'd just listen—" he tried, only to be cut off as his father slammed his fist on the table in front of him.
Gryffindor began pacing back and forth across the room. "This has been decided since you were four years old, Godric. I don't understand how you can object to this—Helga Hufflepuff is a responsible, charming, agreeable girl. What else could you want?"
"Father, I don't object to her. I just don't want to marry her," Godric said reasonably. "Do I have to get married?"
"Of course you do! You're my only son."
"But surely Freya will marry and have children to carry on the Gryffindor line?"
"Do not argue with me, Godric," shouted Averill.
The younger man turned and looked appealingly at his mother. She said quietly, "Do as your father says, son."
Godric looked at both of them furiously before storming out of the room.
Salazar was reading a book about ancient poisons when there was a loud knock on his door. With a deep, regretful sigh, he marked his place in the book, pushed his hair out of his face, and rose from the long table he had been leaning on to answer.
When he pulled the tall wooden door open, he saw Gryffindor standing there, soaked from the rain, his light brown hair plastered to his head and dripping.
"What is it, Godric?" he asked unenthusiastically. "I was reading."
"Sorry," said Godric shortly. "Can I come in, Salazar?"
"If you must," mumbled the taller man, and he stepped back to allow his drenched friend to enter. "What is it?" her repeated.
"I'm leaving, 'Zar."
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm leaving. You said you'd come—will you?" Godric was grabbing fistfuls of his deep red cloak and wringing it out onto the stone floor.
Slytherin laughed. "You? Leaving here? When?"
"Now. Tonight. I'm packed already and Turais is waiting," Gryffindor snapped irritably. "Are you coming or not?"
Salazar looked around. The Slytherin house was large and empty tonight. Feoras, Salazar's father, was of course up in the tower with his books and his telescope, and the distance between them was far more than physical. This house, this town, this world didn't have much to offer him. Was there any reason for him to stay? He considered Godric's proposal, then nodded slowly. He said, "Not tonight, Godric. Go back home. Wait two weeks. There are things I need to take care of and prepare, but I will go with you. Just wait two weeks."
His friend glared at him. "I haven't got two weeks, 'Zar. We have to go now."
"Why? I hear you aren't to be married until Lammas," Slytherin replied smoothly.
Godric looked around, trying to think of an argument. Finally, he said, "You just don't want to leave tonight because you want to take Rowena with us."
Slytherin looked angrily at his friend and took an aggressive step forward. "Rowena would come with me tonight if I asked her. She is not the only thing to consider. I cannot just leave my father here alone—he will not take care of himself. There are complicated spells and potions I am working on now that must be finished or disposed of before I can leave this place! And you must let your family calm down or they will expect you to leave." He turned around and walked back to the adjoining room, picked up his book, and sat down. "Come back in two weeks," he said firmly, and left Godric standing by the door in a small puddle looking embarrassed and wet.
Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it! (Pointing hopefully at review button.)