Written for Hogwarts

Fan Club: Godric Gryffindor, apple

Writing Club, Disney, Jock: write about a long friendship

Insane House Challenge: Founders Era

Godric wasn't surprised to find Helga in the apple orchard just outside the castle. Some days, he would swear she was more plant than human. He never understood it.

Helga looked up, wiping her palm over her sweat-beaded forehead and leaving behind a streak of dirt. "Has something happened?" she asked, blue eyes squinting against the sunlight.

Godric shook his head and joined her. She had managed to collect a large basket of shiny red apples. "You do know we have house-elves for a reason, don't you?"

She sniffed, pale cheeks flushing pink. "That's all fine and well," she said, turning her back on him and waving her wand at the lush branches, summoning an apple, "but some of do not approve of slavery."

"Slavery?" he echoed, incredulous.

"You can try to deny it all you want, old friend, but there is a fine line between a servant and a slave."

Godric considered arguing, but he thought better of it. Helga was far too kind for harsh words and heated debate. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, searching though the leaves for fruit. With a wave of his wand, he brought one soaring and neatly caught it. Grinning, he took a bite. "Possibly the sweetest apples in the land," he declared.

Helga sighed, and her shoulders slumped. She turned, her usually cheerful expression strangely melancholy. "What are you playing at, Godric?" she asked. "You have never offered to help me, or even keep me company while I performed my chores."

He hesitated. Normally he would speak so easily and without thought. More than once, his dear friends accused him of being tactless. Now, however, even he understood how delicate the situation was.

Godric took another bite of the apple, savoring the crisp, sweet flesh and juice. Unfortunately, he couldn't stall for long. When he reached the core, he tossed the apple aside.

"I know you're hurting over Salazar," he said.

Helga sucked in a deep breath. She turned again and began working harder and faster. Godric didn't know how she managed to keep up with the sudden chaos as apple after apple flew and found its place in the woven basket.

Very delicate in deed.

He swallowed. There had to be an easy way to approach this, but he was at a loss. They were all devastated when Salazar left, but Helga seemed to take it harder than anyone. There was a strange bond between those two, and Godric knew he could not even begin to comprehend it.

"Were you two romantic?"

She laughed, but it wasn't her usual, warm laugh; it was dry and dark, and Godric never wanted to hear it again. "You should already know where my heart is, dear Godric," she pointed out. "I believe you and I have known each other long enough."

Rowena. She never outright said it, but Godric always suspected.

"Salazar was a friend," she said. "A dear, close friend who never pushed me or pressured me."

Godric fell silent. He bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating what to say next. Somehow, he had a feeling that his words would not bring her comfort. He was not even sure that she wanted comfort at all.

At a loss, he moved closer, examining the apples within the basket. "I can carry these back to the castle," he said.

Her smile returned, though it was more subtle. "Thank you."

Everyone grieved in different ways. Rowena threw herself into her studies, while Godric ran around, so desperate to fix everything and make it better.

But Helga? Helga carried on and worked hard to keep some semblance of normalcy. Maybe, in the end, that was all any of them needed.