inspired and based on the song:
Anouk - For Bitter or Worse

Haven't we both heard enough, babe?

"No, Helga. You don't understand. Those mudbloods and muggle-borns aren't real wizards and witches."

She watched him move on the otherside of the room. His tall body was dressed in the usual colours: green and silver. His long, black hair was drapped around his shouders and his grey eyes travelled across the walls of stone.

He walked back and front behind his desk. It wasn't the first time she noticed he had trouble sitting down when he was troubled. His gaze went to the different paintings on the wall to her and back to the paintings.

As the woman looked at the paintings she saw that the figures tried to move as little as they could. Without a doubt they were afraid of the wizard and his wrath and tried not to draw too much attention to themselves.

"I always thought the definition of a witch or wizard was 'a person who can use magic', Salazar."

Said by anyone else, those words would sound cold. Yet spoken by her with her soft, warm voice those words didn't sound reproachful at all. There was a certain patience in the manner that she spoke. As if she didn't look down on him in spite of his decision. As if she understood him, but choose to walk a different path.

"So I will take the students you will reject. I will take them all and teach them magic, patience and kindness."

The more she spoke, the darker his expression got. A cold feeling wrapped around her heart the moment his eyes finally met hers. His gaze was filled with venom and for the first time he looked exactly like his patronus.

A serpent.

"Get out," his voice was cold and distant and Helga Hufflepuff knew this conversation was over. But she wouldn't give up. Not when it came to this.

This is what we're gonna do
Let me put my arms around you once more
There's nothing left here to prove

"I am leaving!"

His voice echoed through the room as he gathered his belonings. Out of breath she was standing in the doorway. Her hand was pressed against her chest trying to calm herself down.

She had ran after him through the many corridors of the school, all the way to under the lake to his chambers. Carefully she leaned against the door post as she watched him rage.

"Salazar, no."

He stood still in the middle of the room. In one hand he was holding his wand, in the other his precious locket. For a moment she looked at the green jewel before her eyes travelled back to his.

"You can't abondon your students," she continued.

The inner battle was written all over his face. His pride was hurt, but at the same time he knew she was right. Something in her words had touched a very important piece of his soul. She knew that. Because that always had been that thing they had in common.

The loyalty towards the ones they called their own.

She could beg for him to stay. She could ask him. Try to convince him with arguments. But she knew that wouldn't help. The only way to reach him was through his pride and loyalty. The key characteristics that made his whole being.

"But Gryffindor thinks he is better than me. More worthy to be the leader of the school. Just because his students seem to perform better."

His words were snarled at her. Thrown at her as if they are poisonous and he didn't want to have them in his body any longer.

Slowly she stepped away from the door post. Her feet brought her closer to him as she carefully watched his face. She knew she had to be cautious not knowing how he would react. The man always seemed to be very difficult when it came to physical contact.

As she placed her fingers against his jawline the man flinched a little bit, but that was the only movement he made. She looked at him in the eyes: demanding his full attention wihout using any words.

"Godric won't be the leader of the school. None of us will. Because we are the best if we work together. Not when we work against each other or for each other. Together. Do you understand, Salazar?"

She could feel how he wanted to turn his head away, but her hands wouldn't let him. Instead he just closed his eyes and sighed. She knew he was looking for words he couldn't find.

She knew that because she knew him.

At last he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body closer to him. His head was placed upon her shoulder hiding his vulnerability. She said nothing, but placed her hands on his back and comforted him.

He wouldn't leave.

For now.

Walk away just a little bit slower
Better hold on tight, will we ever learn to let it go?

"Salazar!"

Her voice reached him through the hallways. It didn't happen very often that she was angry, but when she was her voice sounded like a storm. Unsettling and dark.

He turned around with a suprised grin curled around the corners of his mouth. The sight of an angry Helga Hufflepuff was so rare it amused him. A wrong reaction.

"You think it funny? Insulting me in front of your students?"

Her voice got more resentful with every step she took closer to him. His grin disappeared as a wondering expression found a way to his face. He either tried to recall how he insulted her or how she had found out.

"You said that a true wizard should not listen to the words of a mudblood," she explained.

A snicker fled the throath of the dark haired man. He shook his head as a smirk slipped across his lips once more. "Oh, Helga. I wasn't talking about you."

"You were."

The tone in her voice was stubborn and far from amused. Her eyes were cold as she stared at him not willing to back down one bit. Not about this.

"I am a mudblood so you were talking about me. Whether you did it on purpose or not."

As she came closer to him, she realized he looked rather helpless. His eyes crossed the corridor looking for someone, anyone, who could help in this argument. They were alone. Ofcourse they were. A badger planned its attack with care.

"I wish you wouldn't use words as mudblood and muggle-born anymore, Salazar."

He looked away wanting to say something, but keeping his words to himself.

"You hurt the students with words like that. You hurt me."

He looked up again, staring into her green eyes. He brought his hand to her red coloured hair and wanted to caress it, but she quickly stepped away from him.

"No Salazar, I can't forgive you when it comes to this," were her last words before she walked away and disappeared in hallways.

Break through to the other side

Helga was quite the unwavering type. She was acceptating of almost everything and everyone and the last to prejudge, but when you hurt her you had hurt for good. It was hard to make her angry, but when she was you would know it.

She wasn't the type to make snarky comments, plan revenge or ignore you. Her resentment was far worse. It was a Helga which didn't care for you.

She wouldn't greet you or speak to you, not until you spoke to her first. And when she replied it would be a short answer and no questions. A huge difference from the normal Helga which always was concerned for everyone and wanted to know how your day was going.

It was pure torture for Salazar.

He had grown used to Helga always being there if he had something to complain about. Whether he was sulking about Gryffindor winning the house cup or just a bad mood because one of his plans hadn't go work out like he planned. Helga was there to listen to him.

Now she wasn't, his mood got worse with every day.

During dinner his fights with Gryffindor became more the norm than an exception and his students didn't dare to ask any questions during his lesson, afraid he would snap on them.

That last thing was what provoked Rowena.

Rowena Ravenclaw couldn't care less about the fights between Salazar and Godric or about Helga giving Salazar the cold shoulder, but the fact that the students had to suffer because of it was something she thought was unacceptable.

"You apologize to Helga or I will hex you so badly that even Merlin wouldn't be able to fix it," she said to him one day.

The fact that it was Rowena who said it to him, not the knight in shining armor Gryffindor, was what brought some sense to Salazar. The next day he stood before the door of Helga her chamber.

The scent of baked goods teased his nose as Helga her room was located close to the kitchens. He brought up his hand, wanting to knock, but decided last moment not to. Why would he apologize? It was not like he had been wrong or anything. He was crazy for coming here.

He growled quite aggresively and wanted to walk away.

Just that moment the door was opened and the figure of Helga Hufflepuff appeared.

Her green eyes widened out of surprise when she saw him. She looked at him from toes to head as she had to convince herself he was really there.

"Salazar, what are you doing here?"

It was the first time she had said his name since their little fight and it gave him some courage. Maybe Rowena was right and he should just say 'sorry'. But his pride kept him from opening his mouth to speak.

"If you are not going to say anything, can you at least let me through?" Helga spoke as tried to walk past him.

Salazar, however, shook his head and wouldn't move an inch. "No," he muttered and placed his hands on each sides of the door post blocking Helga her path. He leaned towards her and tried to caught her gaze.

Helga, instead, stared stubbornly to the floor. Slowly Salazar brought one hand towards her face and tilted her chin, forcing her to look up to him.

Seconds changed into minutes while the two just stared at each other. Neither of them were willing to give in as first. Helga was still angry at the dark haired man and Salazar believed he had already shown enough remorse by coming to her chamber.

Did she even realize how hard it was to find her room? Those corridors close to the kitchen were like a labyrinth. It surprised him that none of her students got lost in the confusing hallways.

As he studied her face the man realized that vision always had of was completely wrong. Her kindness wasn't weakness and her soft way of handling things wasn't because she didn't know how to do things differently.

She choose to be kind. She choose to be soft.

And at this moment she showed how tough and cold she could be. For the first time Salazar knew that a true dangerous opponent wouldn't be Godric or Rowena. It would Helga, because she wouldn't back down to no one.

She was ruthless.

"Helga, I..."

The man with the grey eyes started, but couldn't finish because he didn't know what he wanted to say. He broke the eye contact and looked at the room behind her as he hoped to find the answer there.

As he looked back at her, he saw how her face had gone from stern to soft and a little, forgiven smile had appeared on her lips. She placed her hands around his face and brought him closer to her. Slowly she stood on the tops of her toes and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Quickly she stepped away from him and met his confused face with a big smile.

"I forgive you, Salazar."

And as he stared at her he knew she had accepted his 'apology' not because she was weak, but rather because she was strong. Much stronger than he could ever wish to be.

I keep wondering
When were you ever gonna let me know?
That you just wanted something else in life

They were laying in her circle formed bed. His arm was nonchalanty laid across her waist as his face was buried in her fiery locks. She toyed around with his fingertips: caressing them, stroking them.

He moaned behind her. "Helga, why won't you just sleep?"

She turned around in his arms so she could look at him. Her fingers travelled across his cheekbones and jawline. A little smile was placed upon her full lips.

"Because you are here with me."

Her answer made him grin as he closed his eyes. It was the first time since forever he had felt this content. This peaceful. It was difficult not to relax under the spell of her soft touch and soothing voice.

Moments passed and the man had almost fallen asleep again. He should have known better. Her voice reached to him through the darkness and chased away his dreams.

"I always wondered," the tone was rather cautious as if she wasn't sure whether to finish her sentence or not.

"Hmmn?" Salazar moaned as he slowly got up and leaned over her. His long hair fell over his shoulder and hid the woman under him from the rest of the world.

Helga quite liked it when he did that. It always felt as if the rest of the world didn't exist. It was just her and this enchanting young man. It made her feel comfortable around him. As if she could ask and say anything and he would answer with honesty.

"I always wondered why you hate mudbloods and muggle-borns so much."

Her question wasn't even finished and he moved away from her. It was as if is she suddenly was made out of poison: so quickly he was gone. All the way to the other side of the bed. Even in the darkness she could see the venomous gaze he gave her. Not that she could blame him. She destroyed their perfect little moment with that one forbidden question.

"Why do you care?" Salazar asked staring at her with suspicion.

Helga slowly got up, wanting to narrow the distance between them but knowing it would be better not to. She had realized early on that Salazar had pieces of his souls which he hid from the rest of the world. Which couldn't be touched or seen.

If Helga tried to get close to him mentally, he would want to keep the physical distance. The lady respected that and stayed on 'her' side of the bed. If she was going to have this conversation with him, it could only happen if Salazar was comfortable.

"Because I care about you," she replied.

She could see how his tense shoulders relaxed upon hearing her words. He broke their eyecontact and stared into the darkness. Although his body was relaxed, Helga could still sense how uncomfortable he was.

For a moment she pitied him and played with the thought of letting the subject go. But she couldn't. She had to know why Salazar hated everyone so much who wasn't a pureblood. There had to be a reason for it.

Because if there wasn't, she wasn't sure she could be with him.

She watched him as he studied her round face and fire coloured hair. Time slowly passed and Helga started to wonder if he was willing to say any more, but she didn't regret her words. Some questions needed to be asked.

And some answers needed to be given.

"Opposed to what I have told you and the other founders, I wasn't born in a rich, rather unknown pureblood family."

His words cut through the darkness as his eyes were fixated on the blankets he was sitting on. Helga realized he couldn't look her in the eyes as he told her his story.

"We were rather poor family from Norfolk. A pureblood family for sure, our bloodline goes back many generations, but also a poor one. However how odd that may sound. We were living close to a small, despicable, village. My parents and my little sisters and I tried not to meddle with villagers too much."

He looked up when he heard a soft gasp from the other side of the bed. Helga looked at him with a rather shocked expression. He hadn't told anyone that had had a younger sister. It always had been a part of the past he rather left hidden in the shadows.

"But you know how these muggles can be. Curious about everything that didn't concern them. And they knew we lived on top of the hill. They would watch us and blame us for –," his expression got darker, "for know those really cliche stories. Crop failure, sudden deaths, missing sheeps. You know how this goes and those muggles were stupid enough to believe it could be our fault. Those ignorant, digusting, lesser than us muggles."

Slowly the woman had move closer to him encouraged by the fact he didn't seem to move away from her. She was sitting right in front him and carefully placed her hands on top of his. For a moment she watched how their fingers intertwined. Then she looked up to his face.

"And your sister? What happened to her?"

Her voice was the complete opposite of his. Soft and fragile as if every word could break when spoken incorrectly. His tone had been harsh and his words spit out as if they were venom.

She saw how the man before her clenched his teeth as he recalled the painful memory which was the answer to her question.

"They burned her."

The hands under her fingers turned into fists and Salazar stared off in the darkness. His eyes were hard as a stone wall, not letting anyone in. Suddenly his gaze switched back to her. A certain determination sparked in the coulisse of his mind.

"I will never let any muggle, or muggle-born for that matter, hurt anyone I love anymore. That's why I can't accept mudbloods or muggle-borns in the school, Helga. I must protect my students from ther wicked ways."

The woman with the red hair just looked at him, not sure about how she should react.

After a little while a grin spread across the lips of the dark haired man. "And not even you can change my mind."

No words spoken anymore that night. She surrendered to him as his lips were gently pressed against her throat. Her hands found a way into his long hair as he gently layed her down on the bed.

No.

No words were spoken that night anymore.

What do you say when it's all over?
What do you know when nothing's going right?
The troubles in your mind

"I am leaving!"

Helga couldn't believe she was having this conversation with him again. She was standing in the middle of the room while the young man was gathering his precious belonings once more.

Her hands were placed on her hips and her stern eyes followed him through the room. Her lips were pushed together and a furious expression covered her face. She really was having this discussion with him again.

"Salazar, it was an accident!" she shouted at him.

He stood still in one of the corners in the room and gave har a sharp stare. "An accident?!" he repeated her words.

Within seconds he had crossed the distance between them and looked down on the woman standing before him. The emotion in his eyes was a mixture of reproach and condescent. She wasn't imitated by him at all.

"An accident."

The tone in her voice was cool, but not cold or offensive. Her well known patience lingered in the backgrond of those words. It didn't matter how often she would have to repeat that one word, as long she finally could reach him.

"It is horrible what happened, Salazar. Horrible. And I am the last person to say anything else, but nothing can change the fact that it was an accident."

He grunted something incomprehensible as he turned his back towards and walked away again. He went further with the act of gathering his beloning, still determinated to leave this evening.

"I always said that we shouldn't accept those filthy muggle-borns," he whispered to himself, but Helga heard him.

"Salazar!" the woman called out his name again and ran towards the man.

The man immediatly drew his wand and pointed it at her. "Don't come any closer, Helga, or I will have to use some pretty spells."

She stood still and even took some steps away from him. But her expression didn't change. Her face didn't show any fear at all nor anger. She was calm and in every other situation the man would have admired her controled nature.

At this moment it only angered him more. How could she stay so cool with what happened?

"Why are you too stupid to understand, Helga? Why can't you see? Did the muggle blood soiled your common sense?" he shouted right back at her.

Immediately he saw how her enchanting green eyes filled with tears and he was lost for words. He walked towards her, placing his arms around her and pressing her body against his. Softly he carresed her hair, trying to keep her from crying.

"Oh, badger, you know I didn't mean that," he whispered.

"No, you meant it. You regret it now, but you meant it," she spoke as the first tears left her eyes.

He didn't know how to reply anymore and only tried to pull her closer to him. He just wished that the rest of the world could cease to exist. He wish he hadn't met her, because he only seemed to hurt her.

And yet he couldn't let her go.

"Helga," he whispered her name against her fiery hair.

She placed her hands against his chest and softly tried to push him away. Reluctantly he releashed her from his passionate embrace. His heart felt nonexistent as he watched the tears laying on her round cheeks.

He didn't want to make her cry anymore.

In Merlins name, please.

No more.

"I have to leave, badger."

He raised his hands the moment he saw she wanted to protest and shook his head. "No, Helga, you can't make me change my mind." His harsh, grey eyes softened just a little bit. "Not even you."

"I'll go mad if I can't protect my students the way I think is best," he continued.

His gaze was turned away from her. If he looked at her he wouldn't have to courage to say what he was thinking. To admit the truth. The horrors which had haunted the corridors of his mind ever since the 'accident'.

"Salazar, what are you thinking?"

She was ruthless.

He turned her back towards, hiding the tears in his eyes. He would never show his weak side. Not even to her. Especially not to her.

"I almost killed him, you know? I still want to kill to flithy muggle-born. He was right in front of me and I didn't and I regret that decision with every part of my body."

He waited for the slamming of the door. Even he knew there had to be limits to Helga her empathy and understanding. And those limits had to be when it came down to murder.

The sounded he had waited for, didn't come. Instead he felt how she placed her gentle hand across his chest and her forehead between his shoulderblades. He grabbed her fingers, kissed them, carressed them with his lips.

Suddenly he was desperate for the taste of her. He wanted to bathe in her light one last time. Only she could chase away the monsters in his heart. Her kindness, her softness was all he needed right now. It was everything he would ever need.

He turned around to see her, to grab her face and kiss her. It wouldn't surprise him if she could feel the desperation in the way he held her close to him. She needed to cleanse him like she always did. Free him from his corrupted soul.

And she kissed him back. She could sense the despair in the way he kissed. The way his fingers grabbed her head, making it impossible for her to turn away.

It made her realize one thing very clearly: this would be the last time she would ever see Salazar.

The last time their bodies would intertwine. The last time she would have any chance to talk to him. To say the last words which haunted her mind.

But there were no words.

No.

No words were spoken that day anymore.

What do you do when you get lost inside your soul?
Where do you go when love's gone?
Why do you say nothing at all?

The castle was strangely empty without Salazar slithering through the corridors. Neither Godric or Rowena had been suprised by the sudden departure of their old friend. Helga hadn't repeated the words Salazar had spoken to her, but she had the idea Godric and Rowena both knew.

That they knew Salazar had left because he couldn't live with fears from the past.

Sometimes, when the weather was bad outside and her room was unuasal cold, the red haired woman wondered how far he would have gone to protect the ones he loved. What he already had done to achieve that exact goal.

On others days she wondered where he was. What he was doing. Whether he was smiling again.

One evening she was sitting the chamber of Godric. Rowena sat next to her on the dark dragon-leather couch and Gryffindor knight was sitting across of them. Their evenings together hadn't been the same ever since Salazar had left.

They still laughed. They still had fiery discussions. They still joked.

But the deperature of their old friend had caused fractures in the stained glass window which was their friendship. Fractures which didn't destroy the picture, but at the same time were difficult to ignore.

"Rowena and I were talking about withdrawing Slytherin's house," the man with the blond curles spoke.

"No," Helga immediately replied, "you can't do that."

She looked at her dear friend sitting next to her in the supposition she would find some support. Surely Rowena with all her wisedom didn't agree with an idea such as this?

"That house is based upon racism and hatred, Helga. What's the point in keeping it?" The black haired woman spoke.

Helga shook her head out of disaprovement. She had expected a lot from her friends, but not this.
"The point in keeping it, you ask?" Her voice was louder than usual, more aggravated.

"The point is that Salazar was one of the founders. One of use. Without his ambition the school wouldn't have exist at all. We should honour his memory. He wasn't a perfect man, but he wasn't a bad man either. He valued ambition, loyalty and determination and we should teach the students which value the same traits."

Her little speech was followed with silence. At last it was Godric who answered. Ofcourse it had to be him, he always was the first to speak.

"What about his pureblood beliefs?"

Helga stood up, done with this whole conversation. The mere fact that Godric felt the need to ask that question, angred her.

"The Slytherin house stays and from now on will accept all kind of wizards, from purebloods to muggle-borns. As long as the students have the ambition and the aspiration to be one of the greatest wizards that ever lived. Just like he was."

And with those words she left the room.

Her heart beated loud in her chest as thought about what just happened. This was her final act of love towards the man she once had held so dear. It was her decision to honour his good traits instead of focussing on his bad.

And while she walked the corridors she hoped that there would be once a student to achieve the greatness he had achieved.

Because she had loved him and still loved him dearly.

Why do you say nothing at all?