Dedication: For typingmonkey, who is all awesome and Australian and has proved right the old adage "if amberthefool says she'll write you a drabble and does not do so, bug/beg/whine/guilt trip her about it until she concedes and ends up writing a quintuple-drabble instead". A wise saying, that one is.
Anyway, sweetheart, even if you hadn't asked, you deserve it for reading the hp/naruto crackfic I write at 4 in the morning. Enjoy (hopefully).
AN: Anachronistic language, thoughI hope it's within reason.Language/history buffs of a picky nature may choose to leave now.
Godric sometimes wonders if they did the right thing, splitting it up between them, four ways.
Like now, as he stands in the dungeons, banging his hands against a bloody stubborn portrait. Subtlety has never been one of his strengths, but at least he knows there aren't any student dormitories around here.
He wonders at the fact that they have split their once-strong and unified castle into a divided mess of hidden chambers and secret passageways and jealously-guarded passwords. This train of thought leads, traitorously, to the rumours of another chamber, more secret than any before it, and he tries to stop thinking about whether there is any truth in the whis-
The portrait swings open, taking him by surprise as he is dragged into the chamber by his robes.
-pers, but then he realises that this is Salazar he's thinking about
Salazar who is glaring at him with dark circles under his eyes and too-pale hands clutching at his robes that Godric could snap in half, they're so thin.
Helga will want to have a word
Not that that's going to stop Godric from teaching the bastard a lesson about locking him out.
"There is no way in hell that I am letting you get away with using a petty argument as an excuse to deliberately leave me out of rooms in my own cast-"
The portrait clicks shut and Salazar's pale, skinny body is on him and Godric gasps
begins to forget what exactly he was so angry about in the first place
as his knees hit the side of the bed.
And then
"…my own castle, for goodness' sake!"
but this time it is playful, his anger just for show, and the unspoken question
Your bedroom isn't the only part of my castle you're planning to steal from me, is it?
hangs between them and dissolves
into the smell of sex and sweaty bodies in the air
forgotten. After the act, he leaves quietly, hiding his presence
even though he's fooling no one and he knows it
and decides firmly that Salazar,
his
Salazar, loves him, and that is enough to purge the idea that he might actually hurt him.
Looking back, Salazar decides
his hands shaking slightly
as he coolly examines the effects of his perfected killing curse on the
tall blond freckled weather-beaten lithe hot sweaty gasping
cold body at his feet that foresight had not been one of Godric's strengths either, though he had naïveté to spare. His lips
wet and swollen and pressed hungrily against his for hours
seconds
lifetimes
curl in scorn as he turns his back on the deserted battlefield and leaves for home.
Concrit always welcomed- rip it to shreds as long as you'll tell me how to put it back together again :)
