Okay, this ran away with me a bit, sorry!
Greed
'It's Greed, Salazar! Pure and simple!' bellowed Godric Gryffindor, and he followed these words by storming out of the staffroom, slamming the door as he went.
Salazar smirked, and remarked in his typically dry manner about the temper of Gryffindors.
Helga threw him an uncharacteristically disgusted look, and ran after the other man, calling his name softly as she did so.
He rolled his eyes at Rowena, on the other side of the room, who smiled weakly, looking terrified as she did so. He noticed she was wringing her hands.
He adored those hands, so pale and elegant. But the action was unusual, Rowena did not like to publically display emotions.
He mulled over the previous discussion, and his efforts to explain to his three compatriots why mud-bloods should NOT be allowed into their hallowed halls.
Why should they share their world with dirty blood?
Why should they let those idiotic, non-magical people pollute their world with their confusion and lack of understanding of wizarding customs?
And how did they know what their family was like? For all they knew, their father could have ordered the execution of a 'witch'.
He did not want people from such stock to receive the advantages of a wizarding life.
In fact, he wanted them to be eradicated completely, if possible.
That had been the basis of the construction of the chamber, after all. It was finished, now, complete with Basilisk.
But he had made the mistake of telling the others, in a fit of rage.
A fit that had only just ended, actually.
The others didn't understand. Even Rowena didn't understand. They thought him greedy, prejudiced, unfeeling, and even murderous.
He thought himself right.
He heard a slammed door from outside the halls, and a woman's terrified pleading. Godric had begun his search, despite Helga's current attempts to protect him and Rowena's earlier argument that even if he did find it, what was he going to do to kill a giant snake?
After all, he wasn't of his line. Unlike their son, so pale and yet so dark, he did not speak Parsletoungue.
He mused sadly that he should really allow Rowena to see their son, whom he knew she pined for. But he could not. Not just yet.
Looking at her now, he saw that she was still staring at him in fear and with pain in her eyes.
He loved those eyes.
She opened her mouth, and eventually managed to strangles out a simple
'Salazar, please…' before the back of her throat seemed to close and she began to bite back tears.
That scared him.
Rowena Ravenclaw never cried. Not with an audience, anyway.
He had only seen her cry once before, and felt the same stab of guilt upon realising that it was in fact his fault once more that she was in pain.
He moved swiftly across the room and tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away.
He settled upon holding her hands, gently stroking them as he stared at the beautiful face that now glistened by the dying candlelight.
Eventually, he lifted a hand to her face, and cupped her cheek.
She looked at him in sorrow, as he simply whispered.
'I'm so sorry'.
He placed a simple kiss to her lips and then rose to leave.
She grabbed his hands with a strangled cry but he gently prised himself free, walking steadfastly towards the door despite his longing to run back to her and take back all the pain he had caused.
But he could not let himself.
He could not stay.
He had to leave this place, raise his son.
His dynasty and pure-blood dream were more important than anything else.
It was not greed to him. For greed would involve him taking him with her, away from where she belonged and was loved.
And he would not do that to her.