Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Witch to Live

As the evening approached there was no time for reading or studying. Families of wizards and witches began arriving, having followed Godric up from the lower grounds towards the castle. Most bore expressions of worry and confusion, as if they were not sure how they had arrived in such a place. The house elves and myself were kept busy with the making of beds and handing out of hot food. We had decided to turn the Great Hall into something of an encampment; it would be easier for relatives to find one another were they all in the same place. Rowena came down and began compiling a list of everyone who had arrived that day, marking down the names of families and their original whereabouts.

Even those who had been accused of no crime were brought up to the Castle; friends and neighbours who bore no guilt other than to know the person who had been blamed. I was relieved when Godric told me he was taking muggles to his family's home and that of mine, he scowled but I said it was for the best and to bring them here would only incur Salazar's anger. Those who had arrived were quiet and subdued, but Salazar could stir things up and then there would be a spate of attacks from wizards on muggles, which would help no one in the end.

From passing around the huddled groups I learnt that several Priests and armed guards had been stirring up trouble, at first it seemed best to ignore it, but a sudden bate of hangings and strange murders meant the angry mutterings and hysterical rants of the Priests, were no longer easy to laugh off. It pained me to see the wizard and witches' quiet faces; even the children were pale and sat silently. Children should not be like that, I thought as I handed round blankets, they should be running all over the place, causing a mess, shouting and laughing. Not these little ghosts, sitting so quietly it was as though they were terrified to even breathe. Even though I disliked Salazar's viewpoint at times, I could understand his abhorrence of muggles.

At that moment Godric interrupted my thoughts by staggering into the hall, the weight of an injured man on his shoulders, the wizard's family rushing around him. I cleared a nearby bed and examined the man's wounds, gashes with a frightening amount of blood and some smaller cuts, but nothing that essence of dittany wouldn't cure. I called Rowena to my side and asked her to keep the family calm and to bathe the man's wounds, while I headed down the stairs to Salazar's office. I managed to catch up with Godric before he left; his eyes were dark with shadows beneath, shoulders hunched and he did not loosen his hand upon the sword at his belt.
"Godric…"
"There is no time, Helga. There are still more, my father and brother are still out there with our friends, trying to help many as they can…"
"But it will serve you no purpose, if you or your family are injured." I said. He gave a low, deep sigh.
"I cannot rest, not until this has been seen to."
"Godric it will not end for another hundred years, if not more."
"Then neither I, nor my family, will ever rest until both muggles and wizards can sleep peacefully in their beds."
"Will you not at least take some respite or have something to eat?" I asked, he smiled gently and put his hand over mine, where it rested on his sleeve.
"Not yet, when the worse is over, I swear to you I shall. Now, go to Salazar and fetch that potion, that man has suffered enough." With that he turned on heel and headed out into the darkness again.

I sighed, but there was nothing more I could do, I knew it was futile to argue with Godric. When he had a goal or task in mind there was very little that could sway him from that path and my pleas to get some food into him would not be one of those reasons. I continued my way down to the darkened rooms, going deeper into the castle. I found Salazar's office, the heavy oak door shut and only the faint scratching sounds of a pen from inside. I knocked, the pen fell silent and then I heard Salazar made his way to the door. He opened it, looking disgruntled and sour, but as soon as he saw me his expression relaxed a little and he pulled me into the room.

As usual he favoured his dark green drapes and heavy wooden furniture, the desk took up most of the room, and like Rowena's each book, pen and scrap of paper had its correct place, there was not a feather out of place on his quills and the books on the desk were in neat piles. Around the room were tall bookshelves, lined with leather bound books, some even in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. There was a small chest towards the end of the room, near the windows, where I presumed Salazar kept his potions. I had taken a few steps into the room and heard Salazar close the door, I turned to ask him for the dittany, but he grabbed my arm and forced me back against the door. I was about to exclaim the importance of my task, but he kissed me, not giving me barely a moment to gain breath. His mouth on mine felt so sweet and strong, his lips urging mine open and then that warm slip of tongue into my mouth; I resisted the urge to moan and pushed him back.
"I need essence of dittany, a man is injured." I said panting, embarrassed it was so easy for him to take my breath.

He strode over to the chest and removed a small crystal bottle. Then turned to give it to me, but held it just out of reach.
"You do understand, don't you?"
"Salazar, I…"
"Were I in that hall I would not prevent my anger, I do you more of a service by being here than fuming in there."
I gently touched his cheek, "I know that and we have more than enough house elves to attend everyone, but I must see to this man's injuries."
He nodded and put the potion in my open palm, "After you are done will you come to speak with me?" he said.
"Perhaps, but there are many people I need to attend to, including Godric."
"Well do not forget yourself, I can tell you are weary. But go, I will not keep you anymore."
I reached up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek; he seemed to like it and smiled. I gave him an encouraging smile and then ran back up the stairs, the bottle clutched tightly in my hand. I felt his eyes upon me still as I mounted the stairs, but when I turned the corner and glanced back he had quietly closed the door.

I attended to the man, his wounds knitting together and healing before our eyes. Rowena and his wife had cleaned most of his blood away and I lent him one of Godric's shirts while his was cleaned. It was dawn before the last few refugees came and Godric returned for good, Rowena's face paled on seeing the lines of worry etched on his face, the tiredness deep within his eyes. He barely spoke a word, wolfed down a plate of stew, bread and ale, before falling asleep in his chair. Rowena had not the heart to wake him, nor to disturb him with a levitation charm, so we covered him with a thick blanket and left him there to rest. Rowena bid me goodnight after that, though by now the sun was creeping over the horizon, even the sun looked weak and weary climbing over the hills with no glorious signs of red or gold, though I remembered the old saying, 'Red sky at night, witches' delight. Red sky dawning, wizard's warning.' So perhaps it was just as well.

I was making my way along the main staircase, debating whether to visit Salazar or retire for a few moments when he appeared walking down from the second floor. 'Whether that man does practice occlumency or no, he certainly knows when to find me.' I thought. He came towards me and wrapped his arms around me, he looked strangely tender as he did so.
"I thought you would be too weary for long conversation, so do you mind if I could join you in your bed?" he asked.
"I am too weary for anything…physical." I blushed, he gave a small chuckle.
"The thought did not even pass through my mind." Salazar's eyes gleamed.
I huffed, "As if."
He gave me a short kiss to my forehead, "I would not be such a beast as that to make demands on you, especially when you have worked ceaselessly. Come. Bed." And he guided me back down the staircase to my own room.

He took off his shirt when he lay in my bed this time and helped me unlace my dress, pulling it up over my head, his eyes raking over my body before I put on my night dress, but I did not want to tempt him. I was too tired even if he was gentle or slow, which I doubted he would be. He climbed into the bed and then pulled me down beside him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and waist, the cover drawn over my shoulders. I closed my eyes, breathing in the warm scent of him, as he ran a hand through my hair, slowly rubbing my scalp. I fell asleep in minutes, but for the few moments I was awake I relished the comfort and security of him holding me tightly to him.

I woke as he shifted my body over to the other side of the bed and went to the window.
"Where are you going?" I asked, he turned and came back to the bed and sweetly cupped my cheek.
"I'm not going anywhere. But it sounds like you have an owl." He nodded to the window, where the bird began rapping against the pane with his beak. Salazar pulled open the curtain and then opened the window, where Alys' owl Castor instantly flew in and proffered his leg. I undid the string biding it and then he hopped to the end of the bed post, put his head under his wing and promptly fell asleep. Salazar closed the window again and shut the curtains; he climbed back into bed, while I opened the letter. I read it while he nuzzled up to my hip, kissing the soft fabric and making it very tricky to concentrate on Alys' words.

But the pain of last night and the storms of witchcraft accusations were not healed by simple kisses and it hurt to read her letter; Alys' had taken most of the muggles, as had Lord Gryffindor and there were around thirty altogether in both houses. There were a few witches and wizards, making fifteen there and forty here. But despite all our efforts there had been the cost of many innocents, killed when their families or friends had gone missing, without trial or a court. We had two new orphans at my house of Rhosyn melyn, a boy of seven and a girl of ten.

I sighed and scrunched the letter tightly up in my hand, there were times when my patience and even temper were tried and I could have easily hated muggles with as much vengeance as Salazar. But unlike he, Godric or Rowena I would still not do anything about it other than help the victims; despite all of Godric's claims, his pride and sense of justice would often make him angry with the muggles and I knew in many ways Rowena saw witches and wizards as better than muggles. But I could not do that, because every person deserves the chance to be good, for all the wrong they have done before. Even my own sense of pity and forgiveness frustrated me at times.

"You are troubled." Salazar murmured against my waist, I put the letter down and sank back into the bed.
"Let's not talk of it today, it will only anger you and upset me." I said. He wriggled back up to the pillows and kissed my neck.
"How many?" he said.
"Salazar," I whined, not wishing to feel his anger, even if it was not directed at me.
"How many?"
I bit my lip, "Altogether, around seventy saved."
His hand tightened on the bed cover and I soothingly stroked his shoulder. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes look away from my own.
"You were right; you should not have told me." Salazar rolled onto his back and looked up to the bower, "Bastards. And even with those that were saved they cannot return to their villages or their homes, the mob would kill them on sight." He let out a growl and got up out of the bed, pacing the room back and forth in a fury. I heard him swear under his breath and mutter several things in Parseltongue. Finally he turned to me, anger etched on his face, his forehead drawn into a frown, his eyes burning.

"They never think, the bastards never think. How many lives they kill, how many lives they destroy. What does it matter to them if a child does not have their mother? If a husband does not have his wife, if a father does not have his children. Love thy neighbour? Hah, they are nothing but selfish bastards, caring only for themselves and their closest kin, waiting for the next one they can kill."
I was still sitting up in the bed, the covers drawn between my hands and watching his mad pacing. I felt strangely calm, watching his swift movements and the turn of his heel. He was still muttering when I called to him.

"Salazar," he looked up, as though only noticing I was still there. "Come to bed."
He frowned once more, then shook his head and climbed wearily back into the bed. I wrapped my arms about him and kissed the firm jaw, then his soft lips. I bit and kissed his mouth till he let out a groan and responded to my caresses. His hands gripped tightly to my arms and his desperate kisses became stronger, he kissed down my neck, along my chest, before lying his head down on my shoulder. I stroked through his hair, entwining my fingers around the black curls. He closed his eyes and made no sound, till after a while he glanced up at me and muttered something in parseltongue. The soft hiss made me shiver, but his eyes remained fixed on mine.
"What does that mean?" I asked, but he shook his head and closed his eyes again. I resumed my ministrations and he soon fell asleep in my arms.

A/N: Oooh so what did Salazar say? I don't even know and I wrote it! It's very interesting writing Salazar with a more 3D characterisation, generally he's presented as pure evil and that's it. But then not much is really given as to what happened in the traditional founders story. One minute everyone is getting along, the next everyone's dying/fighting. I am deeply interested in the historical period anyway of the lost of Pagan religions and the introduction of Christianity, especially as witch hangings/burnings got considerably worse later.

ZeesMuse - Damn straight, he is! Especially when imagining Richard Armitage in that role, lol!
Ashaacorn - Rowena doesn't know entirely, she's a clever woman so I think it would make sense for her to notice subtle changes in people's behaviour and manner, but she's only guessing really.

Thanks again for the reviews.