The night had been warm, for a rare once in that season, with insects already drawing forward, black specks and faint lights in the night that trenched over the warm shores like seasoning, all the while staying distant from the water. The lake was different; wintry cold and pale and too stubborn to give off anything but the clear reflection of the moon. Not quite full, but big enough to cast its all-seeing light over anything near. Salazar preferred to stay away from it; the moon had never been an enemy, nor was it now. Yet secrets were secrets, best left that way and out of the eye of anyone who considering viewing. As long as the moon remained on that lake, the tree-covered shore was safe.
He watched the castle, mind focused on the night air. Very clean, the proper mix of the warmth and the cold, scented with life. It should be calming, he thought dimly. It should be luring him to sleep, making him forget why he was out here in the first place. His heart wouldn't stand for that, thank goodness. No relaxation charm in the world would sit for this. Not till he saw her, not till he knew what she would say.
Salazar liked to imagine he already knew.
She'd come, and he'd wait for her to come till every snatch of apprehension within his body circled itself like rings of fire through his blood and a scream of joy made itself heard. This was new to him, new and wonderful and tempting. The school would remain, it always would. Everything leftover he would give to the school and he knew Rowena would do the same. There was so much that had sprung back to life after months of wishing and hating when the simplest of ideas would come. Ethelinda was already thrilled, more so than he had expected her to be. It wouldn't take much; no one would have to be told. Just a small secret between the four of them.
Beginning with the two of them.
Moonlight filled the mirror, blinding glass like the tricks of the wizards of Egypt. Light bright enough to fill the room, and certainly enough to provide for an attempt at vanity. Helga still wondered and teased at why Rowena had brought up that mirror, when so little else had been moved in the castle, when a simple charm would be enough to reflect a pretty face. That was something Rowena had yet to answer, and what did it matter, anyway? She had her brush and she had her mirror; she might as well join Heather's side of the family and live as a lovely Muggle maiden with all the admirers she could wish for. No, it would be so much more fun to rule the most powerful school in the country as a married woman and…
She set the brush down, a lock of curls less glossy than the others. She wasn't serious about this, was it? It was all a game, one where she would dress up for the part and run down through the woods like a girl in a story. She'd be married soon enough, anyway, within the month. Just a different husband, a different name.
Oh, who was she kidding? The brush flew up and dug itself into her hair. Yes, she was running late. Salazar would just have to wait. She grinned wildly at her reflection, boldly declaring to herself that she had never looked more beautiful. The first and foremost mark of a lady in love.
Godric wouldn't mind a bit, not when he understood. He knew she didn't love him, and he most certainly did not love her. Well, of course she loved him, like a brother. The most wonderful brother she would ever have. And he would love her as a sister, and leave her to her true husband.
Her parents would be furious. Another arrangement, gone to waste. It was simply meant that her family would mix with the Gryffindors, and the world would just have to accept that.
The moon was climbing higher in the trees, spectral white. She laughed at it and waved. The night was no longer terrible. That had been years ago, and she knew enough to prevent any danger. He was out there. Well, she looked beautiful enough. The brush slipped itself into its drawer, and she ran from the room. Four bedrooms, one for each of them. She didn't plan on keeping it that way. The door slammed loudly behind her, declaring her exit. No, announcing to anyone with half a brain that she was a fresh young bride, or would be, before the night was through or however long these sort of things took. Just like her footsteps, loud echoes on the stones. The staircase was before her, the first of a wide room where stairs glowed all over. She laughed again and flicked out a spell. How fun it would be if they could just move to meet her every demand. Already steps were sliding their way toward her.
"Rowena?"
She yelped, foot catching at one of the steps. A lovely way to fall and die, but an arm caught her shoulder. She flipped back, still giggling. "Ricky, you saved my life."
He laughed, turning her towards him. "You seem to be in an awful hurry."
Chatter, nothing else. How many it infuriated that they could not speak like proper betrothed. Just friends. Brother and sister, nothing more. "Of course I am. Haven't you seen the moon?"
"Romance?"
For a moment her heart froze, furious its thoughts had been read. But he was only teasing. No, that wasn't it. Yet he knew nothing, could know nothing… "Ricky, I think it's silly to keep on like that. I only wanted to—"
"Pick those herbs you won't dare leave for the ripening of the full moon," he finished. "I know, I know. You know that lore more than any of us." He released her shoulder.
She felt rather cold, there, now. "Our wedding will be approaching soon." She hated the way his face saddened at that.
"Thank-you so much, Rowena, for bringing that up," he replied, forcing a grin. "All I want to do is look for Salazar and you bring up things like that. You and I both know how we feel about this marriage, so it's silly to keep on it."
He just wanted to know where Salazar was… She laughed and shook her curls. "Well, then I suppose we should both be going our separate ways. There's much to do before we bring our students in."
"So you haven't seen Salazar?"
"I haven't the faintest idea where he might be. Don't you have a spell for that sort of thing?"
"I should."
She waved her fingers at him and continued down the stairs. However, she could no longer run. All she could think of was Godric's face.
Salazar could see her now, a dim shadow barely more solid than the rest strewn over the ground, running fast. Her hair, that was the deepest shadow of all. His heart pounded faster. This could not be real. That skinny little pest she had always been, grown to this?
The plan was fading, a mess of words and ideas that had been so carefully formed, now crumbling into emotions. They could so easily be back before morning. They'd tell Helga and Godric then.
"Your wedding night. How must it feel?"
He whirled around, mind already on the first spell he could bring forth.
It was Tanith. How could he not have heard her approach? Lovely, smaller than he had remember, dressed in a gown much too larger for her and brighter than any green he had ever seen. Brighter than the moon on the lake, almost.
"Tanith," he spat. "What are you doing here?"
She smiled, harsh and strange on her pale face, and curtsied. "Why, nothing more than to give my congratulations and best wishes on you and your lover. Ever since I met you I've awaited this day."
"You've awaited my marriage?" His wand lowered, yet his grip did not slacken. More riddles, more treacherous. No, not treacherous this time. Maddening. What weird girl would do such a thing?
"Why not? You're handsome, you're wise. You are about to do one of the greatest things that will ever happen for the magic people." A laugh spilled from her mouth, no longer so strange, and her blonde hair rippled. Much too bright, compared to the moon. "I'm a romantic, Salazar. I rejoice in love."
What would this look like, when Rowena finally arrived? Him, and this odd little girl? "If you're so excited about this, then why don't you leave?"
"Tut, tut." She shook her head, face mockery of the solemn. "Oh, I'll leave. You don't need to worry about that. Of course I had always imagined another girl in your place. I've been rather enamored of you since I first saw you. I'm only for that and because I'm a messenger."
This Tanith was a lunatic. "More riddles?"
"Riddles, riddles, always with the riddles. Salazar, I tire of them just as much as you do. I only give my blessing." She stepped forward, place both hands on his shoulders, and pressed her lips against his cheek. The kiss seemed to burn. "This may not be me you're in love with, but I've yet to give you such reason, and time will do as it wills."
She stepped back, and Salazar brushed at his cheek. Even so he could still feel it, as if her lips remained there. Why was she so familiar? "Leave, Tanith. She can't see you here."
That earned a laugh. "I'll leave, I promise! I'm not so horrible as to stand in the way of love! Though I'm flattered at your worries. I'm leaving now, in fact. Just as soon as I give you your gift. Cup your hands."
There was no other reason to disobey. One more laugh, and she dropped something against his palms, something warm and alive.
A snake, a hatchling.
"A snake," he said.
She shook her head. "No, though I understand your confusion. It's a basilisk. One of mine. I kept the egg and watched it hatch."
"A basilisk," Salazar echoed. For a moment it seemed he could only feel the cold from the lake. He had heard of these things, rare monsters that could turn a body to stone by a simple look. "You raise these?"
"Not many, I'm not quite so fortunate. It's something my people do. Please, promise me you'll take good care of him."
He should probably drop the thing and grind his heel into its fragile little body. That's what Rowe would tell him to do. And yet… how often did one meet a basilisk? One so young, especially. He stared at it, its eyes glinting up in perfect innocence and tongue flickering like candlelight.
"It has no power yet," Tanith explained, one of her fingers gently stroking the back. Give it a year, at least, if you expect stone. Though I can't imagine how that could come in use to you."
He nodded, still entranced. "That would require locking it up somewhere safe."
"Precisely. Though if you really wanted you could cut out the dear things eyes. But I'd hate you forever."
He met her eyes, shaking his head. "No, no, I'd never do that."
"Good." Her eyes swept past him, into the trees, and she giggled. "Now I really must leave. She's coming. Again, best of luck." Tanith turned and fled into the trees. For several moments they rustled after her, then were still.
He hadn't thanked her for the basilisk… No, he mustn't think of that. She was a strange girl, kind, yes, but he shouldn't think of her. Not with Rowe. Speaking of Rowe…
She was close now. He could see each perfect facet of her face, almost hear her breath, the way her dress moved about her. His heart started again, back to her. It had forgotten something in Tanith's presence. "Rowe!"
She didn't respond, only slid into the patch of earth where he stood and threw her arms around his neck.
He responded, pressing her in tight. "You took forever."
"Salazar, I…"
He released her, hand sliding down her arm to her fingers. "We need to go, now. We can pretend to be Muggles, find one of their priests of whichever deity they wish to throw at us and be back by morning. It won't be any fault of Helga or Godric, and what will be done will be done and—"
"Salazar!" She yanked her hand away.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He turned to her, breath catching. "What is it?"
She didn't speak for a long time, her breath louder than his, another noise to echo off the lake. "It's so cold here," she murmured. "The water never holds the cold like this. It's strange."
"You came here to tell me that?"
"No!" She shook her head. He hadn't realize how pale her face had become. "Salazar, I can't do this. I can't marry you—"
"But you came-"
"—Now," she finished. "I can't marry you now."
A bat flung itself from a nearby tree like a crack in the night. "Rowe." There was more he should say. More he wanted to say. Yell. Shout.
"Oh, Salazar." She flung herself against his chest. "This isn't right. This isn't even normal. You decide this all a few short hours ago and expect me to just follow along."
"I thought you might find it fun."
She pushed herself away. "I do find it fun! Don't you understand? It's exciting, it's maddening, it's everything I've wanted. You're everything I've wanted. I've loved you since I was a child, Salazar! But I am no longer a child, neither are you, and it's time to let such ideas go."
This was a nightmare. One hellish nightmare he was going to wake up from. "If you love me, it won't matter. Get into trouble! You've always done that."
She shook her head, sniffing.
A horrible realization fell over him. "You can't... Godric?"
She nodded, gaze dropping to the ground.
"You don't love Godric?"
Rowe reached up to pluck a leaf from the tree, and crumpled it between her fingers. "I love you more than anything. But I can't do this to him."
His question had not been answered.
"He'll never have Helga," she continued. "He loves her, she loves him, but they can never be together. I'm what he can have. At least until things change. Yes, Salazar, I will be your wife. Someday. But not now."
It wasn't supposed to happen this way. A frozen breeze leapt from the lake and stabbed into him. "Why not now?"
"We have the school to worry about. The school was important to Terminus; we should continue that. Please, Salazar. I love you." Then she stretched out her left hand to him. "I will be with you."
He couldn't say no to her. Not since that night when he had found her, captive and sick. This was like that night, and he couldn't rescue her now. He squeezed his fingers together, feeling the magic take shape. A simple charm, really. Nothing more than a quaint illusion. She had taught it to him, once, when they were small. Twist the magic, make it hard and bend the light. Finally it lay in his palm, hard and cool. A ring, silvery grey. He slid it onto her finger.
She smiled, examining it. "Well, then. Till later."
It could not end like this.
It didn't. She made do with one more kiss.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Rather embarrassing to watch, Helga thought wickedly. A rare state of mind for her, she was the first to admit. Though one couldn't be as sweet as they imagined her all the time. And after she had overhead Rowena and Godric talking in the hall, well, she had to do something. Perhaps it was only feminine curiosity that had pulled her out here. Some things demanded attention, and this was one of them. One hope that could have existed, killed right before her eyes.
Real badgers doubtfully felt much.
She had known this for months. Years. Rowena loved Salazar, not Godric. Ricky was Helga's, and hers alone.
She laughed to herself, not willing to risk the badger's vocal chords. It was perhaps the most romantic story she had ever heard. That Tanith girl, refused flatly by Salazar. He had no concept of what a woman said, truly said. It had served him well, in this case. Rowena needn't know about that little escapade.
Helga felt childish now, a playing girl in a made-up world. Rowena and Salazar approved—they suspected how she felt for Godric. Had they eloped-- how she wished they had!—it would have been perfect. She could have pretended to have known nothing, all would have been well. A marriage set could not be torn down by the outside. Godric could have gone to her father and… Certainly he would have approved. The Gryffindors, though Muggle, were a very powerful family.
She wouldn't see her father tonight, though. Even if that was so, she'd never bother to ask his opinion on such an arrangement. The badger form slid away, and she pictured her room back in the valley. It would be quite useful to learn to Apparate as an animal.
Her bare feet sunk into the carpet, freshly beaten by Naira. It was a silly trip to make, Helga observed. But she had left books her, things so necessary for the school. She ran to her trunk, something old her mother had left her, and flung it open. Old books, the one she had been thinking of, special gifts…
"Helga."
She froze, hands on the trunk's lid.
"Helga, turn and face me."
She did, smiling her best. "Father. I didn't wish to wake you."
He was not in his night things, but in the finer clothes he owned. He returned the smile, a darker version. "I wouldn't have expected such behavior from you, Helga."
"Opening a trunk? Father, I didn't mean to sneak in—"
"Silence!" He stepped closer, foot falling heavily against the carpet. "You always were a foolish one. I heard what you did, what you encouraged."
Her mouth dropped. He couldn't have… "What are you talking about?"
The question only served his anger. "There are messengers everywhere. I'm not trapped here in this valley, I can know many things. I know where you were tonight, not just at your precious school. Helga, you will not encourage this. You would be blamed, if the marriage between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor failed! I will not stand for that!"
He raised his hand. Instinctively she cowered, almost now sitting on the trunk. Was he really so powerful a wizard?
She was more so…
It wasn't something she had to think about. She knew her smells, simple ones in practice, powerful in effect. Nothing had to harm him.
Her father flew back against the wall, unconscious.
She watched him for a moment, amazed at herself. He wasn't dead, of course. But he'd be so furious when he knew.
But that didn't matter.
She gathered what she had come for and left.