A/N: OMG you guys! I cannot even explain how happy you all make me! I seriously jump around with joy everytime I see a new review. You are the ones that keep me going; that compel me to keep writing the deliciousness of our dear Salazar. So thank you so much and I hope you continue to do so!

So once again thanks to all for your wonderful reviews, follows and favourites!

Also, big thanks to my dear beta – Tsukuyomu. You're awesome!

Reviews;

Littleredloser3101 – Thank you dear! I am glad you enjoyed the little moment between the two of them. There will be plenty more in the future! :3

RiAddison– Welcome to Salazar X Hermione fandom. There aren't many of us out there so I am more than glad that so far you are enjoying the story. *Feeds you cookies*

Themadamex – You can be my spoiled child! I will spoil you with lots and lots of Hermione X Salazar! And I totally agree with you. I hate a happy Helga Hufflepuff. I don't know why, I just do. I always imagined her to be more like Éowyn from Lord of the rings. A woman struggling in a men's world. I am glad you like that I made Salazar a blondie. I have read him as a dark-haired and even red-haired but I decided to keep him blond. I guess I wanted to be different. AH. :D

Moi – I swear I will kidnap you and have you sit here with me while I write this story and bomb you with questions about the middle ages. HAHA yes, Salazar just has too much gold on his hands so he doesn't care how much he gives away, really. But of course he also has a generous side to him, aham! I am so happy you loved Helga. That is exactly what I was aiming for. She feels very insecure about her own abilities and feels that she is not much of use. The poor gal.

The bowl moment I read somewhere that only married couples drank from the same spot. Everyone else just turns the bowl. But I agree with you and Tsukuyomu. *cringes*

Isabelle123 – Oh my dear, thank you so much. I hope you will like this chapter!

Merlin's Pants, Help Me!

Chapter VI

The boy thumbed his belt, checking his wand for quick access. Best to be sure, he thought darkly as the memory of Professor Rowena flashed in his mind. He would not just stand still and let whatever happened to her, happen to someone else. He would not allow anything to threaten his home, nor his family. He would never admit it out loud but he had come to think of these people–the ones who provided him with a roof, food, and an education–as family.

A silver moon shone through the trees, lighting the boy's path. Just underground, and to his left, he spotted a badger about to break cover. All well so far. He remembered Gryffindor's words all too well when he first arrived to the castle. "You are, in no circumstances, to venture into the forest. It is forbidden and it is for your safety that I ask this of you." Back then, he found himself thinking, what was it that scared them so? They were the great witches and wizards that everyone talked about. He thought them to be invincible, but clearly that was not the case. Rowena's fragile expression as she lay in her cot was an obvious indicator that despite their greatness they too had weaknesses.

But not Salazar, he thought to himself. He held great admiration for the man. He had been the one to save him from his parents. He had been the only one to stand up to them and take him to Hogwarts. A shiver ran down his spine as the furious expression on his father's face came to mind. No one talked back to him, ever. And Salazar did just that, as though his parents were beneath him, and with no doubt they were. But his parents always thought themselves to be above everyone else, and Salazar was no exception.

The sound of a snapping twig startled him, and he stopped. Someone or something was close. Swallowing hard, the boy reached for his wand and stood perfectly still. He could not explain, let alone make sense of what was transpiring, but an incredible fear tugged at his heart so suddenly and unexpectedly. He could not hear nor see anything, but the fear was cemented in him now and he could not shake it off no matter how hard he tried to keep calm.

Salazar would not be afraid. He chastised himself as he tried to seize courage from the memory of the man he very much admired, but alas, it was futile.

He was scared. He was beyond terrified. He could not even move; his feet seemed to weigh a ton each. His body didn't seem to be his own anymore. It refused to obey his instincts to run the hell away from this place. What kind of magic was this? He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. Suddenly, everything seemed to happen in slow motion–the way the moonlight cast an ugly shadow on the unleveled ground–something was there with him.

"I see you…boy."

Arvain's heart skipped a beat. The voice was shrill and for some reason he knew it not to be human. Every word sounded sinful; pure evil. His mind protested and cried out, "RUN! RUN! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN!"

But he could not run. His body was not his own. His feet buried further into the dirt ground and the tone of his breathing deepened but took on a rasping, ragged tortured noise, shallow and rapid, lips trembling with each outlet of air.

"Who is t-t-there?" Arvain's voice trembled; each word dipped in fear.

He kept his gaze fixed on the monstrous shadow and took relief when he realized that whatever was out there was not venturing any closer. He slowly moved his hand towards his wand, but stopped when he suddenly heard it: the voice he most feared to hear.

"Arvain!"

"F-father?" he asked aloud, looking left and right, trying to spot him.

His father could not be here. It was impossible! But the voice was loud and clear and so very like him. It sounded angry, he was always angry–his father. He shook when his father's voice spoke again, this time it called out for him more urgently and ferociously. Everything around him seemed to become darker and his surroundings spun around him, making him feel lightheaded and sick to his stomach.

"Come here boy!" His father's voice was adamant.

For a moment, he was no longer in the forbidden forest, but he was back at home. His grey eyes fell upon his mother, who was standing by the door. She always just stood there; no emotion ever crossed her cold features. Her dark eyes regarded him as though he was nothing to her. Arvain was cowering on the floor, tears stained his red cheeks, and his hands were in front of his face, protecting it from his father's blows.

"Your brother mastered it and he was two years younger than you!" The tall angry man spat, kicking him on his left side, not at all the least bit affected by the boys' pleas. "You are naught but a failure! You do not try hard enough! You think magic is a play thing, do you?" Again, another kick, this time it hit the boy's back.

His entire body ached but he still found strength within himself to crawl towards the door where his mother was standing. His tiny hand reached out for the skirt of her dress and he wrapped his fingers firmly around the cloth.

"P-please mum…"

The woman yanked the skirt away from his grasp as though his hand burned her. She looked down at him and their gazes met. For the first time emotion betrayed her cold façade, and he saw that a look of absolute disgust was plastered on her features.

"Your father is absolutely right. You are not worthy of this family."

"M-mum…" his voice cracked, her words hurt him far more than any beating he had experienced at the hands of his father.

Suddenly the pain was gone and he was back in the forest, and Arvain found that he could move again. Quickly whirling around, the young boy dashed forward, his little legs carried him as far and as fast as they could. His heart threatened to stop and the air seemed to burn his lungs but he had to keep going. After what seemed to be hours, but in reality had been just only minutes, he stopped. He bent down, hands on his knees, as to catch his breath.

Slowly, the horrific shadow towered over Arvain. His eyes were wide in horror but still he did not dare to look back directly at the shadow's source.

"I… See… You."

The voice all but repeated inside his head and then, his world was wrapped in darkness.

"My name is Hermione," she repeated, the new words rolling off her tongue strangely. Salazar chuckled at her terrible accent, but at least she said the words correctly, and anyone would be able to easily understand her.

It had been her suggestion to have him teach her a few basic phrases of the common tongue and he was pleased with her initiative. Relying only on her knowledge of Latin would get her nowhere, especially amongst the muggle folk. He was also quite impressed with her ability to absorb every piece of information and retain it immediately. She was quite the bright witch, which befitted him well. He did not tolerate ignorant people.

"How are you?" he asked her, watching as she immediately recognized the words.

Hermione smiled back at him, pleased with herself and their progress so far. They had been on the road for four days exactly, and having him teach her the common tongue was a welcoming distraction to both. The first day after her outburst had been the most awkward. Both had spent most of the time in absolute silence. She caught him sneaking a few glances at her, his intense blue eyes trying to read through her, giving her no doubts that the man was internally struggling to keep himself from bombarding her with questions.

"I am…" she paused to search for the right word, "well," she added and smiled when he smiled back at her.

The second day was the day she suggested that she should start learning the common tongue. If she was going to be stuck here, then she would have to learn it, and as quickly as possible. The first day he had started with the basics, such as formal greetings, afterwards he had started with a bit of vocabulary; repeating them in Latin and having her repeat them in the common tongue. And so the third and fourth–the present day–days, they found themselves reviewing what she had learned so far, adding new words and phrases every now and then.

"And you?" Hermione asked shyly, wondering if her words were the right ones.

Salazar's smile only widened and he nodded, "Very good. You are a fast learner." He complimented her in Latin and he could not help but notice the way her cheeks reddened at the appraisal.

Wherever they went, there were animals visible and nearby. Throughout the day she had seen rabbits, deer and even a beautiful red fox peeping through the bushes. Even though their journey had been long and seriously exhausting she could not help but think that everything was absolutely amazing. She had no idea how to respond to it all, so she just enjoyed it, delighted and utterly overwhelmed by it all.

Every now and then in the middle of their lessons, Salazar would suddenly grow quiet and look into the distance, completely lost in his thoughts with a somewhat painful expression on his face. Hermione wished to know what was afflicting him but dared not ask. Even if she did ask, she knew he would not answer her. It was as if they had a mutual silent agreement, where they did not question each other even if they desired to know the answers they had been seeking for ever since they met each other.

The path wound and zigzagged its way upwards. As they climbed higher and higher, the lowlands were no longer visible. Even the plants disappeared after a while and then it was only bare rocks on all sides. They kept going until the path became wider and flatter. Salazar stilled the horse and took a good look around their surroundings.

"We will stay here for the night." He told her.

She nodded, noting that his tone was resolute. He sounded cold and distant and she noticed that his eyebrows were knotted, a crease between them. She bit her lower lip nervously and as she found a suitable place to sit down, she noticed the awful state of her dress; it was incredibly filthy. She didn't even want to think about her own hair. Retrieving her wand, she managed to clean herself somewhat but she dearly craved for a proper bath. Suddenly, the tub and that strange soap from the inn weren't so unappealing anymore.

Her attention went back to the man. She looked at him as he elegantly waved his wand, no sound coming out of his lips. She watched as twigs and dry moss built into a pile. Suddenly, flames started to flicker and slowly a fire began forming. When he beckoned her over to it, she gladly moved from her spot and sat next to him. She realized then just how much taller he was than her. Now that she thought about it, all men that she had encountered, even the women back in the muggle town they were in, were all much taller than her.

"We should rest." He told her breaking the awkward silence, "We are close."

Hermione noticed how weary he looked and she knew that it wasn't because of their journey. He thought she did not notice but she did; she noticed how every time he thought her to be deep asleep he would rise and would either stand or sit awake, staring into nothingness.

That night was no different. As she lay atop the blanket that Salazar had so kindly given to her, she heard him stir and moments later, watched him as he stood up. He was facing east, the direction they had been heading to the entire day. She slowly sat up and watched him intently. She noticed that his hand was clutching his chest and she remembered that one moment when he had stumbled forward.

"I need…home…something is not right…"

"It's nothing little one. It's just… I am needed at home."

The bushy-haired witch was now on her feet and as she walked towards him, he gave her no signs that he was aware of her presence. It was as though he was in some kind of trance. She whirled around him, facing him and even then he kept looking past her, an expression of suffering on his handsome face. For a moment she forgot to breathe, his blue eyes were teary but no tears ever came out. His lips were slightly parted and the knuckles of his hand that clutched at his chest were ghostly white.

"Salazar?" her voice came out quietly and timidly.

"She is fading," the hurt in his voice seemed to stab her own heart. He was still not looking at her, "She is fading," he repeated more strongly and when his gaze fell on hers, Hermione found herself taking a step back.

Her gesture seemed to bring him back from whatever self-induced trance he was in. "Hermione?" he asked in surprise, blinking as it was still dark and wondering what she was doing awake.

The young witch quickly realized that he did not have the slightest clue of what had transpired. "You were… acting strange," she said, not missing the flash of worry that crossed his features.

"Was I?" he asked, suddenly turning his back on her. He started to put out the fire and then walked towards the quiet horse.

"Yes you were," she pressed on as she walked after him, "Salazar, please. Is something wrong?"

He ignored her completely while he readjusted the horse's saddle. "Yes there is." He snapped, "You are delaying me." His voice was strong and accusatory.

She frowned deeply and guilt started to sink in. He had been so hopeful that she would be able to Apparate them directly to Hogwarts but for some blasted reason she had been unable to. She knew he was in a hurry to get there but he had kept his reasons concealed. It was obvious that something major was happening in Hogwarts and though she was dying to know, she yet again dared not ask.

Her eyes widened when the man mounted his horse and looked down at her with an expression of absolute coldness, "Keep going east." He said and as she opened her mouth to retort, he started the horse, both quickly disappearing into the darkness of the night.

She stayed very still, looking into nothingness with her lips parted. Her chest began heaving up and down rapidly as she was left completely alone. Her knees suddenly gave out under her and she fell on the dirt ground.

Don't be stupid, Hermione. He will come back. She thought as she kept her gaze on the darkness ahead of her.

It was only then, when Hogwarts came into view, that the guilt spread through him like a disease. He could not turn back now. No, he was positive–absolutely sure that the young woman would be fine without him. From the time that they had spent together he had had plenty of time to study her and if there was one thing he was sure of it was that Hermione was a survivor. He could tell by the way she carried herself; even though she found herself at ease around him, she still eyed their surroundings carefully, always on the lookout. He noticed how her hand was always ready to reach for her wand just in case something attacked them.

So why did he care so much? She was only a day away from Hogwarts on foot and he had seen her do extremely well with a wand when faced with dangerous situations. In fact, she knew quite a lot of things that he did not. The Apparate-ing issue was something he was itching to learn.

Taking in a deep breath, Salazar dismounted the horse easily and patted it, whispering kind words to the animal that was just as tired as he was. Then he looked at the tall gates that would lead him inside the castle. The tugging feeling around his heart only intensified when the doors opened before him automatically as they always did when he arrived home. The castle and he were connected.

For a while he managed to walk unnoticed as the hallways were empty. He walked at a brisk pace, his long cloak billowing behind him. However, his presence did not go unnoticed for much longer. Students started to fill into the corridors and they all came to a halt when they spotted their professor. They quickly scurried away and silence reigned in as he walked by. The look on the man's face clearly spoke volumes and it was a look that clearly told them that now was not the time for pleasantries.

After he left the corridors behind, he made his way towards the staircases that would lead him to Godric's study. Finally arriving to his destination, the blonde-haired man pushed the door open. His eyes fell on the surprised duo; Godric was standing by the window and Helga had probably been pacing the room back and forth, an old habit of hers. They both looked like they had been through hell. Never before had he seen Helga's hair so messy, she had dark circles under her eyes and she looked even paler, if that was possible. Godric had that look in his eyes, a look that he knew all too well.

They were in trouble.

"So what the hell happened to you two?" Salazar asked, dropping his sack on the floor, removing his long cloak, "You look like you have been through hell and back."

Godric nodded, absently pushing a stray lock of damp black hair away from his eyes, "You have no idea. What took you so–"

"Rowena is dying." Helga blurted out paying no attention to Godric's glare.

"Helga…"

Her eyes met Salazar's and she fought back her tears, "Something happened to her while in the forest. It is some type of dark magic we have never encountered before! And on top of that there is a student–"

"Helga!" Godric said again, this time more firmly. Helga opened her mouth as if to say something more, but instead she shut it abruptly and sank into the closest chair with a humiliated, if not hurt, look on her face.

Salazar's gaze searched Godric's to seek confirmation on Helga's words and he found it. He now understood why the summoning had been so urgent to the point that it was hurting him physically. He took a deep breath as the news sunk in, but somehow he could not find himself thinking clearly when that witch kept occupying his thoughts. He turned his gaze away from Godric and looked at Helga. For now it would be best if she felt that she was of use.

"Helga, I have a favour to ask of you."

Godric just sort of stared; he had never heard Salazar ask a favour of anyone. Helga, in particular, was shocked out of her mind and just sat there with her mouth hanging open. She then quickly regained composure and nodded slowly, "Of course," she replied, sounding rather eager to help, "you can ask anything of me, Salazar. You know that."

"I was travelling here with a companion; a young witch. Her name is Hermione Granger and I left her all alone so that I could hurry here. Take my horse, go meet her halfway and bring her here safely."

Helga nodded and was quickly on her feet, "Leave it to me."

"Okay," Godric said slowly, raising a dark eyebrow curiously, probably making a point to ask Salazar about this later.

Salazar was unfazed by his friend's curious stare, "Now, let me see Rowena. Let me see what I can do."

As the two men walked side by side down the corridor, Godric informed Salazar about the intruder that was currently hiding in the forbidden forest. Salazar's brows were drawn together as he listened to every word. He cursed himself inwardly, if he had been here, perhaps he could have prevented this from ever occurring. He watched as Godric opened the door to Rowena's chambers and he walked inside, his eyes resting on her prone figure. To anyone that was unaware of the events that had taken place, Rowena would appear to be asleep. For a moment he seriously thought she would wake up, and they would laugh at him, and that all of this had just been a poor prank.

Salazar approached the bed and leaned closer to the woman that he considered to be one of his closest friends. His big hand gently touched her forehead and his head snapped upwards to face Godric.

"This is powerful dark magic. But you already knew that."

"Now you understand why I summoned you."

Salazar's stare hardened, "Yes. What I do not understand is why you would send both Rowena and Helga to investigate something or someone as powerful enough to trespass our wards." His tone was harsh but he could not help the smug yet bitter smile that crossed his face. He knew his words had struck home and the damage had already been done.

Godric knew he was right. He should have gone himself or at the very least sent someone else. For a while both men just stared at each other and then Godric decided that he might as well be out with it, "There is something else that you should know…," a pause, "Arvain is missing."

"What?!"

She didn't know how long she stayed there glued to the ground, her eyes fixed on the horizon as she waited. All sort of emotions took over her; anger, disappointment, emptiness and it was the latter that hurt the most–loneliness. He just left her there! He just left her there completely on her own! Bastard! Idiotic buffoon!

Humiliation and complete disappointment clawed at her core as a part of her really thought that he would come back for her. Despite the way she felt, she knew that deep down, he probably had a very good reason to leave her behind but she still could not help the name calling that followed. Her current mood did not help either. She had been walking for hours or at least it felt like hours. Her leg muscles protested but she merely kept pushing herself forward.

Stopping was not a choice. Thanks to her previous encounters with both muggles and wizards alike, she did not like the idea of encountering people on the road. The mere thought mortified her.

A great mist had settled ahead and if Hermione did not know better she thought it shifted in unnatural ways. She came to a sudden halt as she heard something and she squinted her eyes. A lone figure loomed out of the mist, like a rider on a rearing horse, long blond-hair flowing behind them. Hermione's heart almost came to a stop and she instantly forgave Salazar for leaving her. He had come back!

It was only then, as the figure approached, that she noticed the very feminine features of the rider. The grip on her wand intensified when her eyes met the beautiful woman's gaze.

"Hermione?"

When Hermione did not reply, the rider kept going, "I am Helga, a friend of Salazar."

Hermione's eyes widened at the name she was given and she nodded slowly, "Is he alright?" She inquired in Latin, watching as curiosity manifested on the other woman's face.

"Yes. He arrived well. He asked me to come and bring you to him." She replied.

The bushy-haired witch nodded quietly and offered Helga a smile she was quite familiar with.

A fake smile.