A/N: Okay… I know I said that this was going to be a one-shot… I was going to post this as a separate piece, but I realized that it would probably be better if I combined it with The Snake and the Eagle. So now it's a two-shot. :)
Disclaimer (Do we even have to do these? Because if you're writing on this site, you're probably not J.K. Rowling.) : J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe, not me.
Salazar Slytherin claims to not be afraid of anything.
In all actuality, though, he is afraid of plenty of things. Death, for one. And- though he has never told anyone about this (his pride would never live it down), he is afraid of pigeons. Nasty little things…
But above all, Salazar Slytherin is afraid of love.
To him, love is an uncontrollable beast, a disease that twists resolves and controls actions and dampens intellect. If you asked him, Salazar would tell you, without hesitation, that he has never loved, never been loved, and will never love.
But of course, that would not be true.
Once upon a time, Salazar loved his sister. But that was before she, along with the little tolerance Salazar had for muggles, went up in flames.
Once upon a time, Salazar loved Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff like his own siblings. But that was before age-old grief and differences in opinion tore them apart.
Once upon a time, Salazar loved Rowena Ravenclaw. And though he wants above anything to make that love disappear, he knows that the burning fire in his soul for her will never be put out.
And perhaps that is what scares Salazar most.
Salazar still sees that day in his nightmares- the shouting between him and the three people closest to his heart; the zing of metal against metal as Godric drew his sword; the slam of the cherry-oak doors as he left all he had built in the past decades behind.
But most of all, Salazar sees Rowena's face- tears streaming down from her beautiful gray eyes, heat emanating from where she clasped his hand, her melodious voice still as wondrous as ever as she begged him not to leave.
And he sees himself, committing the worst mistake of his life as he walks away from the first woman that had been able to melt the cold shields around his heart and make him fall for her.
Salazar hates going back to Hogsmeade, where he can see Hogwarts once again, the tall turrets and stone walls towering over the skyline. Three people who were once the most important in his life reside there- two that he never want to see again, and one that he would sell his soul just to catch one last secret glimpse of.
But that doesn't change the fact that the best potions ingredients in all of Wizarding Britain are sold there, so once a month, Salazar grits his teeth, disguises his appearance, and slinks into Hogsmeade once again, staying just long enough to grab several vials and bottles off the shelves of Pandora's and leave several galleons in their place.
On a particularly warm day in the peak of spring, Salazar is on one of these expeditions when he knocks into a plump woman on his way out from the apothecary's. He is about to grunt out an apology when he suddenly realizes who, exactly, it is that he has bumped into.
It is the village midwife, Madame Genevieve, who happens to have been a dear friend of Helga's.
Salazar almost jumps back in fear of the old woman recognizing him, too, before he realizes, with a sigh of relief, that he is disguised. "Sorry," Salazar says, backing away quickly.
But Genevieve merely grins toothlessly. "Hast thou heard the wonderful news, noble sir? Madam Ravenclaw has successfully birthed a daughter!"
Salazar drops his sack of potions ingredients, his blood running cold as all thoughts of a quick escape vanish from his mind. The wizard's intelligent mind quickly does the math- it has been just about nine months since he left. The average length of a human pregnancy. But no- that can't be possible- "W-with whom?"
The midwife leans in conspiringly. "No one knows, not really. But there's a rumor going around that it's Slytherin- y'know, the professor that left mysteriously last summer. I don't think it's very likely myself, sir- I don't think Madam Ravenclaw would do something like that- but you've got to admit that there's some believability in it, with the timing of Slytherin's departure, and all…"
Madam Genevieve trails off as Salazar promptly rids himself of his lunch.
That night, Salazar can't sleep. He had tried to rid all thoughts of Rowena on the long trek home from Hogsmeade to no avail. If Rowena's daughter is really his as well-
But no, Salazar can't stand the thought of going back to Hogwarts. His murdered sister's face stares accusingly at him from the back of his forcefully closed eyelids. You can't fraternize with the likes of them, Salazar, he tells himself. Sympathizers with the muggles that killed your sister.
At least, that's what Salazar tells himself. Deep in one of the few thawed parts of his frozen cold heart, Salazar admits the real reason he does not want to return to Hogwarts.
He is afraid of what will happen to him if he sees Rowena again.
Somehow, through the anguish and the regret, time moves on. Seasons change. Years go by.
Salazar becomes an old man long before his time, aged by loneliness and heartache. Some days, he comes frighteningly close to going back to Hogwarts. Especially on his monthly trips back into civilization- when he looks up to the young school that he helped create.
But the fear keeps him where he is- fear that his once-true friends will not accept him again; fear that if he does reveal himself, no one will trust him. And above all, the fear of the burning love he still harbors in his soul for Rowena Ravenclaw, even after all these years of separation.
And so, despite the lump in his throat whenever he goes back into Hogsmeade, Salazar forces his feet, month after month, to head back to his cottage.
And not to where his heart truly lies.
At some point in his self-imposed exile, Salazar's feelings toward his monthly Hogsmeade trips begins to change. When once, they were dreaded days in which every step could lead to possible discovery, they are now treasured moments in which Salazar gets to be near other people again, in which he gets to pretend that none of the mess that is the past two decades of his life happened.
And, Salazar admits grudgingly, nowadays, he likes the company of other people. Once upon a time, Salazar had been an introverted bibliophile, only being able to stand the company of his books, his potions, and perhaps Rowena. But now, he finds himself staying at Hogsmeade longer and longer, to speak with the villagers, or perhaps just move with the crowds and revel in the feeling of being near other witches and wizards. He has given up on disguising himself long ago. It has been so long that Salazar doubts anyone would recognize him, and transfiguration only lasts for a set amount of time.
It is on one of these days when Salazar meets her for the first time.
He is browsing in a bookstore when she comes in, rattling the bookshelf in front of Salazar as she does so. Salazar is looking up to frown at her when he nearly has a heart attack.
The young woman just a couple shelves away from him is a carbon copy of a teenaged Rowena. Brunette curls, sharp grey eyes, pointed Grecian nose, and that distinctive air that's just so Ravenclaw.
Salazar's heart nearly beats out of his chest. Could this possibly be-
He approaches her, heart thrumming nervously. "What is your name?"
The young woman looks up at him mistrustingly. "What business is that of yours?"
Salazar had never imagined that he would ever find himself begging a woman less than a half of his age for her name, but this chance encounter is also unlike anything he could have imagined. "Please."
She frowns at him again, but reluctantly tells him her name anyway. "Helena. Helena Ravenclaw."
Salazar has never felt anything like this before. There have been times in the past seventeen years in which he doubted that Rowena's daughter was his as well, but now, staring at this young woman, her eyes a shocking emerald like the ones he sees every time he looks into a mirror, he knows without a doubt that Helena Ravenclaw's name could have been Helena Slytherin.
Father and daughter stare at each other, energy cackling between them. Finally, unable to take the tsunami of feelings threatening to rise within him, Salazar breaks the gaze. He is about to walk away like the coward he knows he is- before he remembers the date.
Swallowing the tears bubbling at the surface, Salazar looks at his daughter one last time, reaching deep into his emerald green robes for a bronze and blue locket. The last momento Rowena had ever given him. A momento that, despite telling himself that he wants nothing to do with Rowena, he has kept it all these years as the last remnant of their love.
It is difficult giving it away. But he has missed sixteen of Helena's birthdays already. She deserves this. And, perhaps, giving his last keepsake of Rowena to their daughter will give him closure.
"Happy birthday, Helena."
Salazar walks away and does not look back.
Unbeknownst to Salazar, that night, when Helena returns home to Hogwarts, she tells her mother and the two people who have been like an aunt and uncle to her all her life about the strange man at Hogsmeade who had so desperately wanted to know her name, had known her birthday and had even given a locket to her.
When she holds the glittering locket to the light, Godric gasps. "Isn't that your old locket, Rowena? The one that you gave to- to-"
Godric trails off. The three remaining founders look at each other, the end of Godric's sentence hovering, unspoken, between them.
The one that you gave to Salazar. Before he left.
Seeing Rowena's stricken look, Helga asks a confused Helena, gently, "What did the man look like, dear?"
Helena describes Salazar in detail. And although none of the founders have seen him in nearly two decades, there is no doubt that the man Helena had seen at Hogsmeade had indeed been Salazar Slytherin.
Rowena runs out of the Great Hall in tears.
Two more years pass. Salazar knows that he is dying.
Twenty years ago, when Salazar was still in his prime, death would have been a scary prospect. But now… There is nothing left for Salazar in life anymore. Perhaps death will be a door away from this monotonous drone of regret that is living.
And so, he sits at the little window of his cottage, day in and day out, waiting for Thanatos to come and take him.
Until one day, a small tawny owl swoops into his window.
For the first time in forever, Salazar is curious. Who in the world would want to send a letter to him? Perhaps the owl had gotten lost?
He unfastens the small black envelope from the owl's leg, who hoots at him once and flies away. On the back of the envelope is his name, written in a familiar script that makes his blood run cold.
Salazar hasn't seen that particular petite cursive in decades, but he would recognize it anywhere.
It is Helga Hufflepuff's.
Dread coursing through his veins, Salazar slowly waves his wand, the envelope unfolding. With shaking hands, the old wizard extracts a single sheet of parchment, on it three words.
Rowena is dead.
Salazar slowly backs towards the wall, feeling lightheaded. No… it can't be true…
But he can feel it inside. He can feel the fire that is still burning inside him for Rowena Ravenclaw… he can feel it fading.
And he can feel himself fading with it.
Salazar Slytherin closes his eyes and welcomes death.