Beginning of the End (Rowena/Salazar)
Title: Beginning of the End
Author: Delaney/callmehermione
Pairing: Rowena/Salazar
Prompt: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Rating: Professors
Warnings: Abuse, Sexual Situations
Word Count1530
Summary: Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin have a special connection that becomes more and more difficult to maintain as the politics of building their school tear them apart.
Author's Notes: Points for recognizing quotes from Atonement, The Other Boleyn Girl and Bush’s State of the Union address. Oh, and thank you to Ren for the delightful prompt!
The castle loomed in front of Rowena as she stood and surveyed it, tangling her hair in her fingers. It was in terrible disrepair, having been unoccupied practically since its erection a century prior by a wizarding family with no heir.
She began to walk toward the building. It would need significant additions, but the structure was solid, the grounds sufficient and the location perfect.
Now, there was work to do.
As she schemed, a wizard brooded deep within the dungeons of the castle. Just as Rowena was planning additions and renovations, Salazar was planning nothing. The dungeons were perfect for his purposes, for his own students. They would have everything they needed.
They met at the entrance, He found her hand, pulled her to him, and kissed her hair.
She sighed.
“This will be perfect, Salazar, a dream come true, all the students learning how to do magic the right way. Our part of the Wizarding World will be better for it.”
Salazar looked off into the distance.
“Yes, Rowena. Better, indeed,” he murmured.
*~*
“Salazar?” Rowena awoke abruptly and reached over to the other side of the bed. It was cold.
In preparing the school for use, they had settled into its rooms, Helga and Godric in one corridor and Rowena and Salazar in another, several levels below.
Still, as Rowena flew out of the room, flustered, she nearly staggered into Helga. The Welsh witch had been heading toward the Great Hall with a grand table. The table teetered, but Helga righted it before it fell from its hovering position to the floor.
“Rowena love, where are you headed in such a hurry?” Helga asked gently, wand arm still raised.
“I’m sorry,” Rowena apologised hurriedly, smoothing her dishevelled appearance. “I seem to have lost Salazar. Have you seen him?”
Helga frowned, a tiny crease between her eyebrows. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Rowena avoided the table to inch closer to her friend.
“He’s been spending time on his project,” she murmured. “Ever since we told him we’d be admitting students of mixed heritage-“ Helga stopped and shook her head. “Rowena, I’ve never seen him like that. And Godric won’t go near him.”
Rowena shook her head. She hadn’t seen him that way either, so betrayed, frustrated, angry, and it scared her more every day how far he was from her. Since their initial difficulties had been resolved-and Rowena always allowed herself a wicked smile upon recalling just how they had come to an agreement-he had been completely hers, and she completely his. This, though. This would tear them apart yet.
Forcing a smile, she wished Helga luck with her table and strode away, following the path Salazar had shown her so many weeks ago, when he was excited with the rest of them, when he shared his discoveries with her and wanted, needed her to smile with him.
Each made special additions for his or her students, but Salazar… there was something wrong. Rowena had felt it with each excuse, each time he turned away, each day he avoided her touch.
With sure steps she swept through each newly-repaired corridor, through each half-oppressed memory of three, not four, working together to build a way to build a life for Britain’s children.
Reaching her destination, Rowena took a deep breath and sat gingerly on the edge of the slide down underneath the school. Why Salazar appreciated these dark places, she would never understand.
She landed, naturally, on her face, and rose to dust herself off and find what was hers.
The corridor in which she found herself was wide and dark, really rather too mysterious for her liking. Godric would do better with it.
“Salazar?” she called.
A burst of light crackled in front of her.
“Why are you here?” a voice demanded.
Well, now that was an odd query. How was she supposed to answer that? You’re one part of me, and I therefore can’t let you grow too far from my heart? Maybe brutal honesty wasn’t the best way, in this case. She stood still in the near-darkness, her breath echoing off the walls.
“This is my masterpiece,” he murmured. “But you are not a part of it.”
Rowena was sure she felt her heart stop. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. They were supposed to be each other’s masterpiece.
She turned slowly. The voice was coming from behind her now, it seemed.
“Salazar,” she sighed, the word wavering with her breath. “Salazar.” She must bring her with him. “Come with me, my dearest. Come with me, away from here.”
He ignored her.
“Think of the society we’ll be building. Think of my students-the purest and most powerful in the Wizarding World, right her in our school.”
Rowena shook her head.
“These are just boys and girls with dreams, Salazar,” Rowena said quietly, aware of the silliness of her words but breaking them down to the point of simplicity for him. Whenever he was this way, full of ambition and promise of power, simplicity brought him back. And he promised, every time, to always come back to her.
He began to pace. “What right have you to come here and tell me how I should believe, how my students should be? I will teach and choose my students based on my own rules.” His tone was unrelenting.
While his words were temporarily harmless, Rowena felt cut apart, exposed and alone. Salazar had always stood by her side, but this chasm between them felt more permanent than their closeness ever had been.
“Salazar, please,” she cried softly, tears spilling over her eyelids and falling to the floor, lost in the dampness there.
She felt a pressure on her hand, warm breath caressing her face.
“Rowena.” A kiss on her forehead. “Rowena.” He pulled her toward him. She nestled into the familiar arms.
So it was not over. Not tonight. Not yet.
And as he led her away, through the stone plumbing of the grand building and back to their room, as he traced patterns on her body and kissed bliss from her skin, she wondered. She wondered when the end would be.
*~*
Term began, their first students frequented the hallways of the ancient building, and the founders found themselves busier than ever with the upkeep of classes, discipline, and the various activities in which students have always taken part.
Rowena felt as though she saw less and less of Salazar, who was absent even when she slept.
One day, she decided to stay awake for him.
So she waited.
An owl hooted just outside the window, and Rowena turned quickly toward the sound. The bird flew by, though, leaving nothing.
The candles flickered. Rowena spread her blanket across her legs and peered over at her cold tea. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
She dreamed, then, dreamed of days when his loyalties were with her, when she was his ambition. She dreamed of shared kisses and shared hopes for the future, their future.
She awoke when the door opened, bringing with it a whoosh of cold air.
Now, his future seemed his own, and Rowena had to bring him back.
“You’re back.” She stood up
“Why are you awake?”
“Where have you been?”
“What business is it of yours?”
Rowena flinched.
“You have no right-” She stopped.
They paused for a moment, surveying each other.
You say it is I doing the betraying. You say it is your ambitions I ignore. But have you ever considered it was my dream you pushed aside?”
He began to advance on Rowena, forcing her backward until she was against the wall, his face an inch from hers.
She was trapped, physically and mentally, her heart warring with her mind as the former insisted she could love and forgive him, the latter arguing he was wrong, what he was doing was wrong, and that feeling this way was wrong.
She was flooded with desire for him and repulsion for him, her heard and head pounding, conflicted, locked in battle.
He kissed her then, harshly, but still she was lost.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, letting the tears fall. “I’m sorry, you’re right-”
His eyes were clouded, and if she could see them properly, she would have had to admit she could not read what was there.
“But you’re not with me, are you? You’re with them, and therein lies your betrayal. You leave me behind but insist to yourself it is I, always I who have clouded your hopes with shame.”
He kissed her neck, tracing her waist through her nightclothes.
“Forgive me.” She kissed him. His ideals were wrong, but his love was right, always right. She knew now she would sacrifice anything for his touch.
So here he stood, pressed against her as she opened herself body and soul to his cunning presence, his sure embrace.
And still she was lost, through and with and in him.
“I,” he murmured into her hair, “being poor, have only my dreams.”
Rowena clung to him.
“I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
“Always.” Her whispered response was lost between them.
Author: Delaney/callmehermione
Pairing: Rowena/Salazar
Prompt: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Rating: Professors
Warnings: Abuse, Sexual Situations
Word Count1530
Summary: Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin have a special connection that becomes more and more difficult to maintain as the politics of building their school tear them apart.
Author's Notes: Points for recognizing quotes from Atonement, The Other Boleyn Girl and Bush’s State of the Union address. Oh, and thank you to Ren for the delightful prompt!
The castle loomed in front of Rowena as she stood and surveyed it, tangling her hair in her fingers. It was in terrible disrepair, having been unoccupied practically since its erection a century prior by a wizarding family with no heir.
She began to walk toward the building. It would need significant additions, but the structure was solid, the grounds sufficient and the location perfect.
Now, there was work to do.
As she schemed, a wizard brooded deep within the dungeons of the castle. Just as Rowena was planning additions and renovations, Salazar was planning nothing. The dungeons were perfect for his purposes, for his own students. They would have everything they needed.
They met at the entrance, He found her hand, pulled her to him, and kissed her hair.
She sighed.
“This will be perfect, Salazar, a dream come true, all the students learning how to do magic the right way. Our part of the Wizarding World will be better for it.”
Salazar looked off into the distance.
“Yes, Rowena. Better, indeed,” he murmured.
*~*
“Salazar?” Rowena awoke abruptly and reached over to the other side of the bed. It was cold.
In preparing the school for use, they had settled into its rooms, Helga and Godric in one corridor and Rowena and Salazar in another, several levels below.
Still, as Rowena flew out of the room, flustered, she nearly staggered into Helga. The Welsh witch had been heading toward the Great Hall with a grand table. The table teetered, but Helga righted it before it fell from its hovering position to the floor.
“Rowena love, where are you headed in such a hurry?” Helga asked gently, wand arm still raised.
“I’m sorry,” Rowena apologised hurriedly, smoothing her dishevelled appearance. “I seem to have lost Salazar. Have you seen him?”
Helga frowned, a tiny crease between her eyebrows. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and Rowena avoided the table to inch closer to her friend.
“He’s been spending time on his project,” she murmured. “Ever since we told him we’d be admitting students of mixed heritage-“ Helga stopped and shook her head. “Rowena, I’ve never seen him like that. And Godric won’t go near him.”
Rowena shook her head. She hadn’t seen him that way either, so betrayed, frustrated, angry, and it scared her more every day how far he was from her. Since their initial difficulties had been resolved-and Rowena always allowed herself a wicked smile upon recalling just how they had come to an agreement-he had been completely hers, and she completely his. This, though. This would tear them apart yet.
Forcing a smile, she wished Helga luck with her table and strode away, following the path Salazar had shown her so many weeks ago, when he was excited with the rest of them, when he shared his discoveries with her and wanted, needed her to smile with him.
Each made special additions for his or her students, but Salazar… there was something wrong. Rowena had felt it with each excuse, each time he turned away, each day he avoided her touch.
With sure steps she swept through each newly-repaired corridor, through each half-oppressed memory of three, not four, working together to build a way to build a life for Britain’s children.
Reaching her destination, Rowena took a deep breath and sat gingerly on the edge of the slide down underneath the school. Why Salazar appreciated these dark places, she would never understand.
She landed, naturally, on her face, and rose to dust herself off and find what was hers.
The corridor in which she found herself was wide and dark, really rather too mysterious for her liking. Godric would do better with it.
“Salazar?” she called.
A burst of light crackled in front of her.
“Why are you here?” a voice demanded.
Well, now that was an odd query. How was she supposed to answer that? You’re one part of me, and I therefore can’t let you grow too far from my heart? Maybe brutal honesty wasn’t the best way, in this case. She stood still in the near-darkness, her breath echoing off the walls.
“This is my masterpiece,” he murmured. “But you are not a part of it.”
Rowena was sure she felt her heart stop. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work. They were supposed to be each other’s masterpiece.
She turned slowly. The voice was coming from behind her now, it seemed.
“Salazar,” she sighed, the word wavering with her breath. “Salazar.” She must bring her with him. “Come with me, my dearest. Come with me, away from here.”
He ignored her.
“Think of the society we’ll be building. Think of my students-the purest and most powerful in the Wizarding World, right her in our school.”
Rowena shook her head.
“These are just boys and girls with dreams, Salazar,” Rowena said quietly, aware of the silliness of her words but breaking them down to the point of simplicity for him. Whenever he was this way, full of ambition and promise of power, simplicity brought him back. And he promised, every time, to always come back to her.
He began to pace. “What right have you to come here and tell me how I should believe, how my students should be? I will teach and choose my students based on my own rules.” His tone was unrelenting.
While his words were temporarily harmless, Rowena felt cut apart, exposed and alone. Salazar had always stood by her side, but this chasm between them felt more permanent than their closeness ever had been.
“Salazar, please,” she cried softly, tears spilling over her eyelids and falling to the floor, lost in the dampness there.
She felt a pressure on her hand, warm breath caressing her face.
“Rowena.” A kiss on her forehead. “Rowena.” He pulled her toward him. She nestled into the familiar arms.
So it was not over. Not tonight. Not yet.
And as he led her away, through the stone plumbing of the grand building and back to their room, as he traced patterns on her body and kissed bliss from her skin, she wondered. She wondered when the end would be.
*~*
Term began, their first students frequented the hallways of the ancient building, and the founders found themselves busier than ever with the upkeep of classes, discipline, and the various activities in which students have always taken part.
Rowena felt as though she saw less and less of Salazar, who was absent even when she slept.
One day, she decided to stay awake for him.
So she waited.
An owl hooted just outside the window, and Rowena turned quickly toward the sound. The bird flew by, though, leaving nothing.
The candles flickered. Rowena spread her blanket across her legs and peered over at her cold tea. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
She dreamed, then, dreamed of days when his loyalties were with her, when she was his ambition. She dreamed of shared kisses and shared hopes for the future, their future.
She awoke when the door opened, bringing with it a whoosh of cold air.
Now, his future seemed his own, and Rowena had to bring him back.
“You’re back.” She stood up
“Why are you awake?”
“Where have you been?”
“What business is it of yours?”
Rowena flinched.
“You have no right-” She stopped.
They paused for a moment, surveying each other.
You say it is I doing the betraying. You say it is your ambitions I ignore. But have you ever considered it was my dream you pushed aside?”
He began to advance on Rowena, forcing her backward until she was against the wall, his face an inch from hers.
She was trapped, physically and mentally, her heart warring with her mind as the former insisted she could love and forgive him, the latter arguing he was wrong, what he was doing was wrong, and that feeling this way was wrong.
She was flooded with desire for him and repulsion for him, her heard and head pounding, conflicted, locked in battle.
He kissed her then, harshly, but still she was lost.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, letting the tears fall. “I’m sorry, you’re right-”
His eyes were clouded, and if she could see them properly, she would have had to admit she could not read what was there.
“But you’re not with me, are you? You’re with them, and therein lies your betrayal. You leave me behind but insist to yourself it is I, always I who have clouded your hopes with shame.”
He kissed her neck, tracing her waist through her nightclothes.
“Forgive me.” She kissed him. His ideals were wrong, but his love was right, always right. She knew now she would sacrifice anything for his touch.
So here he stood, pressed against her as she opened herself body and soul to his cunning presence, his sure embrace.
And still she was lost, through and with and in him.
“I,” he murmured into her hair, “being poor, have only my dreams.”
Rowena clung to him.
“I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
“Always.” Her whispered response was lost between them.