A/N: I always thought Salazar leaving was a little fishy... and anyway, I just decided to work with human nature a little. Originally an entry for HPFF United, but it turned out a little more twisted than I'd expected.
Disclaimer: Is this really necessary?
Helga Hufflepuff had always been willing to make sacrifices.
When her father had died, suddenly and mysteriously, she had instantly left her dream apprenticeship at the apothecary, quitting her research in order to take care of her younger brothers and sisters. When a shepherd grazing in the outskirts of her town ran suddenly in with harrowing tales of great ships and pallid faces, she alone stayed back and laid the traps for the Saxons while the rest ran. And when, escaping from her dear great Cymru, that beautiful country that they dared to call Whale, her sweet, smiling siblings died from the great sickness, she paid everything she had to give them a proper burial the way her parents would have done.
She was no stranger to the hard road, to taking cuts here and there for her own eventual survival. She alone had come off of that small, dreary dinghy unscathed, and had learned much from that journey to the hills of Scotland. There had been no one to protect after that but herself; and she had promised the moment she set foor on dry land that she would do a damn good job of it.
She had realized the importance in courtesy and flattery, in self-serving kindness and how just-a-little here paid off a-whole-lot there.
As she got older, she trained herself; honed the art of honeyed words and easy charm, let herself grow slightly rotund to increase her matronly appearance. She absorbed herself in her work, quickly rising to the top of the magical world. She was loved by many, and despite her attempts, she loved quite a few as well.
But there were two things that she treasured above all others, that she would do anything and everything for no matter the cost to her own well-being. For those, she would not cut corners, nor take the hard road. No matter the cost to herself, she needed that place, that man, to be safe and secure before she could even think about existing in peace herself.
She had seen Salazar Slytherin and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry through trial and tribulation. She had laughed with them, cried with them; watched them grow into the great entities they had become. She had poured herself, body and soul into both of them, with only the hope that one day her work would be appreciated to keep her sane.
She was not a fool, though-- she knew that Salazar was too caught up with his nonsense, his pure-blood centered agenda to think about anything so menial as feelings. He never saw the world before him, the students that came through his classes; he was too busy trying to play God, tinkering with the future and dallying in the theoretical. He had no use for anything but his studies anymore-- half the time she had to remind him to eat!
But it was all right. One day, she hoped, one day he would figure it all out, and the curtain would be lifted and he would see the utter ridiculousness of his prattling.
And soon, she hoped; Godric had a wild temper, and cheerful words could only sate it for so long.
She sighed, picking up the tea and sipping it quietly with a sad shake of her head.
"Soon, Salazar," she said to the doorway. "For all of our sakes."
Helga stared at her doorway, unseeing, her mind churning as she contemplated the events of the last hour with utter horror.
She had known Salazar's beliefs-- it wasn't as if he kept it secret, and although she had tried her best to shield the dear Muggleborns, both in her house and the others, she knew they felt a certain unpleasantness radiating from Slytherin House. But this-- this took it past stares and whispers, jeers and taunts. Those things could be handled with discipline, careful weeding, a gently firm hand, but this; taking things to this extent meant there was no going back.
She still wasn't quite wrapping her head around it. A basilisk. A real, live, 100% genuine basilisk INSIDE Hogwarts, loose and untrained. In other circumstances, she would have liked to know where he'd gotten it as the less dangerous cockerel was much more common... but now was not the time for foolish, irrelevant questions.
Rowena had rushed in, delicate, high cheekbones flushed from the mad dash to Helga's quarters in the East Wing, telling her the whole story in between incredulous sobs. A student, one of the sweeter, well-liked young Ravenclaws, and (muggleborn to boot) had rushed in to Rowena's office, frightened half to death (figuratively speaking); a young Slytherin student had threatened to rouse the 'Slytherin secret weapon' against her. The young delinquent had been questioned, and after hours of prodding and threatening, had finally revealed that he had heard rumors of a giant, snakelike creature brought into the school to dispatch all those of impure blood.
It didn't take a genius to figure out who brought it in, and in typical Rowena fashion, had delegated the responsibility of talking to Salazar to Helga. It made sense, of course, but she wished she didn't have to go by herself; she always ended up doing things she didn't want to do and saying unexpected things when they were alone together.
But this time, of course, was different than all of the other times. He had done something enormously, hugely, unspeakably wrong, betrayed his house, the students, her-- she wanted to cry. She wished that it was hard to believe; that she could have looked at Rowena like the other woman was insane, laughing at her distress and muttering soothing excuses. But, of course, she had known Salazar far too long for that. She knew in her heart the moment the words left Rowena's lips, and the world became grey.
A few tears drifted down her cheeks, and before she hardly knew what she was doing, she was getting on her coat, readying herself for the cold walk down to the dungeons. As she put her hand in her pocket, she pricked her finger, and drew out a very small, but still quite sharp dagger. She contemplated it for a moment before replacing it, blade down; she sighed as she left the warm room, closing and locking the door behind her.
How had it come to this?
"Helga! Darling, what a lovely surprise, isn't it a little late for you to be running about? I mean, not that I'm don't wa--"
"Tell me they're lying."
She was surprised. That's not what she had meant to say-- and from the look on his face, it hadn't been what he'd expecting to hear.
"Beg your pardon, love?" Although his words were sweet and smooth, as they always were, his gaunt face was just a little more drawn, his grey eyes just a little sharper. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
"Tell me they're lying. Tell me there's no basilisk hidden inside these walls. Tell me that while we were building this castle you didn't make a secret chamber hidden from us. Tell me you aren't planning to kill a third of the students because of something they can't help."
Salazar's quick, darting glance and muttered curses were all she needed to know-- had she been a weaker woman, she probably would have fainted. It was one thing to expect it, to believe it was true; but to know that there was no chance of it being false...
"So I was right." Her voice was quiet, and much less accusing than it had been just a few moments prior. "It was true."
Although Salazar pursed his lips, his eyes softened, and he took her by the arm gently, opening the door with his free hand.
"You always did have entirely too much faith in me, Helga. Here, come in, let me get you some brandy," he said, and she followed, eyes slightly, glazed, still barely comprehending as he sat her down and went through the motions of getting her a drink. There was a long, drawn out silence.
"Darling, please, say something."
How about for a brutish, heartless pig of a man your concern for my well-being seems slightly misplaced?
"Why?" It was only one little word, but it seemed to hang there, swinging between the two of them for ages, and he sighed, his handsome face furrowing.
"Must we speak of this, Helga?"
"Of course we must!" She hissed, more forceful than she thought she'd ever been with him, and he sighed.
"All right," he said petulantly, as if it were some troublesome child they were speaking of rather than a giant, horrifying snake that killed people on sight.
"Why do you keep doing this to us, Salazar? We made a vow, a pact when we began this school; back when there was nothing but the foundation for the Great Hall and the plans for the North Tower, do you remember? We made a promise to each other then that no matter what would come, what personal strifes or controversial matters arose over time, we would always, always act for the good of the school and the students. Have you so quickly forgotten a bond wrought in blood, Salazar?"
He gave a low growl, slamming his fist against the table; the rotten, dank wood splintered under the force and her now-spilled brandy soaked into its piecy surface. His voice was icy, but his eyes blazed with a fire Helga had not seen for a long time, and he shook slightly as he spoke.
"You insult me, Helga. How can you even think I would betray something of that sanctity--"
"You really believe that bringing in that... that thing and doing what you want to do is beneficial to Hogwarts?"
"Yes, I do!" His tone was horribly angry now, his eyes flashing as he kicked in a table leg, furious.
"This school needs a change of direction. That red-beared savage has taken over this place, made it a haven for the low-born and unintelligent, and I shall NOT allow it to go any further!"
Helga wanted to cry; it was worse than she thought. He hadn't betrayed them, wasn't trying to wheedle and slime his way out of their promise. He really believed he was doing his job. He had gone mad.
"Where is his accusation, hmm? Why is he not being berated and cornered? I'm telling you, that man has everyone under his thumb, Helga, even you!" He took a step towards her, and she got up swiftly, backing towards the door. She did not like the daggers in his eyes, the strangeness in his step. She reached backwards, fumbling for the door handle, but it was too late-- he had always been faster than her, and in moments, she was up against the wall, his long, elegant fingers wrapped around her throat.
"Tell me, my love, what did he do to pull you over? What did he promise you? Protection for your precious Mudbloods? A place in his bed?"
"How dare you speak to me that way!" She attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but he simply pressed a little closer, his other hand against her arm.
"Come now, Helga, my dearest, you haven't been coming to visit me nearly as often as you used to-- I suppose you've found someone else better to your liking, then--"
"How dare you-- Salazar, how could you even think that, I--"
"Helga, Helga, Helga... it doesn't matter." His tone, so accusing before, became soft, sweet-- loving. He smiled, an oddly out-of-place gesture on his dour face. "It's all in the past now."
She opened her mouth, ready to defend herself-- she had done nothing, how could anything be in the past if it hadn't happened, for God's sakes-- but she closed it again just as quickly. She felt the hand lift from her forearm, raising gently to her icy cheek.
"Helga, my love." His voice was low; his lips came dangerously close to hers and all coherent thought left her for a moment. "Don't you trust me?"
And all at once, a rush of sudden and complete clarity washed over her. He would kiss her and make her forget, like he always did, and she would forgive him, like she always did, and he would have manipulated her into once again ignoring his mad behavior. She knew now it would get progressively worse; she could see it, as if it were happening at this very moment. The school would eventually fall at his hands, because he would never stop, no matter how many times she tried to convince him that he was wrong. His rightness had consumed him. She knew what she had to do.
She smiled, a bitter, terrible half-smile, tears welling up behind her eyes.
"No."
It happened so quickly; one moment he was there, his face puzzled, the next, her hand was in her pocket. And then he was staggering back, staring incredulously at the tiny, engraved dagger poking out of his chest.
Helga stared at her sullied hand, both frightened and excited.
"Why... Helga..."
"Y-Your actions endangered the s-ss-tudents, Salazar. I've let this go on lo-long enough. I'm... I'm truly sorry that it had to be this way," she said, the tears flowing freely now; a stark contrast to her cold, nonchalant tone.
He fell to the ground, looking everywhere but at her; she placed her fist in her mouth to try and muffle her great, gasping sobs.
"Go to Hell," he said, piercing grey eyes meeting hers defiantly; she stared through her tears, unable to look away from the man who had held her heart for so many years. They closed, finally defeated, and she grimaced as she stepped over to her ex-companion, feeling oddly free.
"If it makes you feel better, I probably will."