(no subject)

[smutfree_mod]

Chapter Four

Salazar woke up the next morning stiff and sore from their flight the night before. He almost lamented the loss of the feather bed he had vacated so quickly in his search for something nefarious until he remembered the look on that little boy’s face as he was freed from his cage.

“We should start moving,” Godric said as he gathered up his stuff. There was little to pack this morning since they had just collapsed where they stopped the night before.

“No more candy houses,” he said, as he sat up and stretched.

Godric laughed. “Agreed. If something looks to good too be true then it probably is. Though I did get us some.” He tossed Salazar a small cloth bundle. Inside were pieces of sweet gingerbread and other candies. He took a few pieces and shoved them in his mouth, savoring the gooey sweetness. It had been a long time since he had had any sweets.

“Mhmmm. How did you know to come looking for us?” Salazar asked, his mouth still full of gingerbread. He'd known Godric to sleep through a raging thunderstorm before. The events of last night wouldn’t have made nearly enough noise to wake him.

“I didn’t sleep well. Something about that place bothered me. And when I woke up and found first you gone, and then Amy, I came looking.”

“Good thing for us,” he said wryly, trying hard to hide the resentment over Amy’s comment from the night before. It wasn’t Godric’s fault that he was more charming. The fact that his friend merely shrugged his shoulders at the unsolicited praise spoke volumes about how their friendship functioned. It wasn’t fame or glory Godric sought. That was Salazar. Godric only wanted the thrill of the adventure.

“Where is Amy?” Godric asked, looking around and noticing she wasn’t present. Salazar hadn’t realized she was missing, enjoying the quiet camaraderie that was lacking when she was around. Perhaps it was a pity after all that Godric had come along when he did last night. He could have offered Amy to the old hag, leaving her behind.

Except, of course, that the gallant Godric would have none of that.

“Wandered off again is my bet,” he said with a yawn. “I’m starting to think she doesn’t like us.”

“Doesn’t like you, you mean,” Godric said, unsheathing his sword and heading into the brush to look for her. “Although…” He turned and looked back at Salazar with a look of appraisal that Salazar didn’t appreciate.

“Although what?” he demanded.

Godric shrugged. “Nothing. Just a thought I had.”

Salazar wanted to question him further on his preposterous thoughts, but he left, his sword swinging. He sincerely hoped Amy wasn’t anywhere in that direction or she might get an arm or her head cut off before Godric realized he had found her. With a sigh, he went in the other direction. Patting his pockets, he felt that his wand was right where he left it, which meant that she was probably off practicing her magic like he had warned her not to.

A moment later, he heard a scream, and started running. Coming into a clearing, he saw her staring down a vicious looking snake. He could see a faint tremble in her hands and she looked as though it was taking all of her concentration to remember to breathe.

“Leave her be,” he admonished the snake.

“She almost stepped on me,” it argued.

“Help me, please,” she whispered, never taking her eyes off the serpent. He walked closer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Almost means she didn’t step on you. Now move along,” he said in a stern voice. It hesitated, but finally turned away and slithered into the underbrush. Amy turned and fell into his arms. He let out a surprised grunt at her sudden intrusion into his personal space.

“Oh! I was so scared!” she exclaimed, clinging to his neck. His arms wrapped around her and held her close.

“If that little thing scared you, what are you going to do when you see the dragon?” He felt her stiffen in his arms. He knew she hated any questioning of her right to be with them on this journey.

“What was that funny noise you were making?” she asked, changing the topic. She leaned back in his embrace to look him in the eye. He debated not telling her. She didn’t know the Darker implications of his special talent. It wasn’t something he often shared with other witches and wizards. But he could hardly deny it now.

“I can talk to snakes,” he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. Perhaps if he downplayed its importance she would move on quickly. But he should have known better than that.

“Is that so?” She sounded like her cheeky self again. He dropped his arms and she stepped away from him. “Well, I can talk to birds.” She made a chirping noise that sounded nothing like any bird he had ever heard.

He rolled his eyes. “And do they also talk to you?” She furrowed her brow.

“You talk to snakes and they talk back?” she asked incredulously. He didn’t get to answer. He heard the snake hiss, and glanced over to see it rearing its head up again. Except this time, it was looking up at a gigantic and angry forest troll. He pulled out his wand, and shoved Amy behind him. She yelped at the sudden roar of the troll.

“Stupefy” he yelled, but the red light of the spell only bounced off the troll’s thick skin, making him even angrier.

“Impedimenta!” Salazar tried. But that spell worked no better, only slowing the troll as he bore down on Amy and himself, swinging his massive club. It came within inches of Salazar’s head, and he backed up, trying to think of what spell might work on a troll. Amy clenched her fists in the back panel of his shirt with a sharp intake of breath.

Suddenly, a great creaking noise startled both Salazar and the troll. He looked up to see the branches of the surrounding trees leaning down and taking hold of the troll. They wrapped around his arms, chaining him in place. He tried flailing, letting out a great loud groan, but the trees only held on tighter.

Salazar stared on in surprised horror. He shook his wand, testing to see if maybe he had inadvertently cast a spell.

“We should go,” Amy whispered. Salazar turned and looked at her. Her face was drained of any color, and her breath came in short gasps.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear. She shook her head and slumped forward. He just barely caught her as the troll let out another deafening roar, struggling to free itself from the branches’ grasp. Throwing her over his shoulder, he hurried out of the clearing and back towards Godric and their camp.

“Godric!” Salazar yelled. “Time to go!”

“What happened?” Godric emerged from the brush in a tangle of branches out of breath and with a concerned look. He must have heard the noise of the trees.

“Troll. It’s under control, but we should leave.” He waved his wand, and his bag assembled itself and jumped into his hand. “Let’s go!”

They hurried through the forest at a frantic pace. An hour later, they finally slowed, out of breath and aching from Amy’s weight.

“I think we’re safe here,” Godric said. Salazar nodded. He laid Amy down on a bed of dead leaves. She groaned, and he let out a sigh of relief. It meant she wasn’t dead. Godric kneeled down on her other side.

“What happened?” he asked Salazar.

“I think she stopped the troll from attacking us. The trees reached down and wrapped around his arms like chains. And then she just collapsed. It’s not healthy for her to go on like this. She needs a wand. She needs proper training.” He smoothed back her hair, worried at the pale color of her face and her uneven breathing.

“Do you know any Healing Spells?” he asked Godric, unable to keep the desperation out of his voice. She had probably saved him from injury at the expense of her own health. His feelings for her couldn’t help but change somewhat.

“Not really.”

Salazar cursed, trying to remember a spell his mother used on him and his brothers when they had been wrestling. But this was different. She had drained herself. Her show of raw magic might kill her.

“We have to get her help,” he said desperately.

“We aren’t far from Hogsmeade village,” Godric said. “You could Apparate and I’ll catch up with you later. Salazar nodded, grabbed Amy, and disappeared with a pop. He landed outside of an inn.

“I need a witch doctor and a room,” he said, marching in and throwing some gold on the table. It was the last he had. When it was gone, he would be left with nothing but he couldn’t think beyond getting Amy help. An old hag, bent over with age, nodded and directed him upstairs.

The room she led them to was small and dark. In the dim light, he could see that a rickety chair sat in one corner with a narrow bed and a small table in the other. It smelled smoky and dank. Salazar laid Amy on the bed, and immediately crossed the room and threw open the shutters.

A wrinkled old man, sporting a limp and smelling of herbs, entered the room just as the matron was leaving. He introduced himself as the mediwizard. Salazar moved out of his way, explaining in bits and pieces what had happened while he watched the man poke and prod Amy.

“You say she’s Muggle-born?” the doctor asked. Salazar sensed the disdain, and almost felt offended until he remembered his reaction had been the same when he first met Amy. He nodded.

“It’s not safe for her to practice magic without a wand and proper training. I suggest you Obliviate her and send her home to her own kind. She’s better off there as it is. And so are you,” he said, gathering up this things.

Turning around, he saw Salazar standing with his hands on his hips. He hadn’t called the mediwizard to give him a lecture on Muggle-borns' place in wizard society, but to heal Amy, and he told him so.

The old man looked him up and down and finally said, “She’ll pull through, but she needs some specific potions.”

Salazar nodded. “Anything.”

“And how are you going to pay for these potions?” the doctor asked. Salazar frowned.

“You’ll get your money by the end of the week, but she needs those medicines now.”

He fingered his wand, prepared to duel for the treatment Amy needed if he had to, but the older man simply scowled and nodded, promising to be back the next day. Salazar sighed, collapsing into the chair in the corner the moment the doctor left. With his head in his hands, he struggled to come up with a plan.

He didn’t think the doctor would take credit on the promise that they would defeat a treasure-hoarding dragon in the next few days. Before Godric had come along, he had had been brewing potions to survive, but he had destroyed the last of his ingredients, and with no money to pay the doctor, there was no money to buy new materials.

A loud crash followed by raucous laughter drifted up from downstairs through the crack where the mediwizard had failed to close it all the way shut. The noise gave Salazar sudden inspiration. This wasn’t a respectable establishment by any means, which meant there would be ways to make money, mainly gambling. It had been a long time since he had indulged in the vice of card playing, but tonight seemed a perfect time to start up again.

****

He had left home at the age of fifteen, and he might have returned home at the tender age of fifteen as well except that three weeks into his journey into the wide world he met a wizened old monk who took him in and taught him magic beyond the simple spells he had mastered under his mother's tutelage, things beyond housekeeping and gardening. The monk took him in, and nurtured his love of the delicate and subtle nature of potions. He taught him how to coax stubborn plants to give up their secrets. And he unlocked the secrets of the human mind.

Legilimency, Salazar found, was a very useful skill indeed. For example, he knew that the one-eyed man next to him currently was bluffing. The other three at the table had already thrown in their cards, and were watching with interest the battle of wills between the final two. So far, none of them had caught on that Salazar was cheating. He had purposely lost a few hands so that they wouldn’t become suspicious.

The man pushed in the last of his gold. Salazar feigned hesitation before throwing in the same amount. They flipped their cards. Just as he thought, his opponent’s hand was awful. He had been bluffing. Reaching out, he raked in the money. It would buy Amy’s potions and their room and board for the rest of the week. He resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

“It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen,” he said. He finished the last of his firewhisky and stood to leave.

“You’re cheating!” his opponent accused him. Salazar stared down at the coins in his hands. He was too close to having what they needed. He couldn’t lose it now.

“Winning and cheating are two different things,” he said, trying his best to sound intimidating. He desperately wished that Godric was here with his shiny sword. People listened then. Looking up, he stared hard at the man. “And I don’t cheat to win.”

A long tense moment ensued in which each party debated their next move. The other man reached for his wand. But Salazar was faster. With a quick Disarming Spell he had the other man’s wand. He swept his wand around the table in a warning gesture, hoping his bravado paid off. One drunk he could handle, but if his friends decided to take his side, then Salazar knew he was in trouble.

“He cheated!” the man exclaimed again.

The wizard next to him shook his head in disagreement. “You say that anytime you lose,” he slurred. “You accuse me of cheating twice a week!”

“Fine, then,” the one eyed man relented. “But you can’t be leaving now,” he said, reaching over clapping his hand over Salazar’s and his gold coins. “We want the chance to win it back.”

Salazar opened his mouth to respond with a curse, but the innkeeper’s daughter appeared suddenly by his side. She smiled lasciviously at the men, leaning over the table so that they all had a pretty view of her ample chest.

“He’s got a girl upstairs waiting for him,” she said with a wink. “You wouldn’t want to stop a bloke from having his fun, would you?” All but the one eyed man laughed coarsely and wished him well, and he took the opportunity to scurry upstairs.

What he found there wasn’t encouraging. Amy was still in bed, pale as a ghost, and the sheen of sweat on her brow indicated a fever. She tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep. Salazar pulled the chair from the corner over to her bed. Taking her hand in his, he attempted to calm her with soothing words. He wasn’t used to being nursemaid, but she settled down some. He clenched her hand, pushing away thoughts that if he had been more adamant about sending her home in the first place she wouldn’t be in this mess.

He fell asleep in the chair, his hand still covering hers.

****

He awoke the next morning feeling sore, his entire body protesting the hard wood and odd angle of impromptu bed. Looking up, he saw that Amy remained unchanged. Her skin was still ashen and she was hot to his touch. She needed those potions. Not waiting to splash some cold water on his face, or straighten his clothes, he rushed down the stairs to see if the doctor had come back in the night with them.

But the stairs that had brought him up to the room didn’t take him back down to the main room of the inn, but to the cellar. He looked around confused. He tried going back up again, but ended up in the same place. In the dark, he could see that shelves lined the wall and someone had propped several barrels of ale in the corner. He turned to go back upstairs once more when he heard a giggle.

“Who’s there?” he asked, pulling out his wand and pointing it into the darkness.

“You won’t get anywhere by going up those stairs,” a female voice said. She stepped into what little light there was, and he recognized her as the innkeeper’s daughter from the night before. She looked to be about the same age as Amy, just a few years younger than himself, but with darker hair pulled back in a braid.

“And why not?”

“Because it’s Tuesday, and on Tuesday they lead to the cellar. Now if it was Monday or even Sunday they would take you down to the main room.”

“So how do I get out on a Tuesday?” he asked through clenched teeth. He really didn’t have time for such nonsense.

“You could always jump out the window,” she suggested. He advanced on her, his patience wearing thin.

“Tell me how to get out, NOW,” he demanded.

“The third door on the left will take you downstairs on a Tuesday,” she said. He nodded, turned, and stomped up the stairs. He could sense that the girl had followed him, but he was too concerned about getting out and getting Amy’s potions to care. Counting off, he found the third door and opened it. The stairs led up.

He wheeled around. “Enough of this! That girl is going to die while you lead me about this maze.”

“Do you like it?” she asked as though he hadn’t just yelled at her. “It’s a charm I invented myself. It looks like they go up but really they will take you down to the tap room, every third day that is.” Seeing that he didn’t believe her, he took his hand and led him up the stairs. It was true. Two minutes later, they arrived in the main room of the inn.

“I can make the chairs dance a jig too, if you’d like to see,” she told him.

“Maybe later,” he said, heading for the door.

“Rowena, have you been playing with the stairs again?” he heard the innkeeper yelling as he hurried into the street. After the maze in the inn, he was presented with yet another puzzle-just where did the mediwizard live?

The streets were crowded with merchants and farmers selling their goods. Witches bustled by with baskets full of fruits and vegetables. Owls flew overhead, carrying letters. Salazar navigated the winding streets, finally finding the mediwizard’s place by the sign over the door with the smoking vial and the words “Petrie’s Potions.”

“I need those potions,” he announced, after knocking on the thick wooden door.

“Come in, come in,” the old man beckoned. Salazar had to stoop over to get through the door. It led into a dim room. A fire burned in the corner hearth, and dried herbs hung from the ceiling. A workbench sat in the middle, a smoking cauldron in the middle. Salazar immediately recognized the potion as the one the mediwizard had mentioned the day before.

“I have money,” he said, holding out the galleons. The old man nodded.

“I’m just finishing up. How is she doing?” he asked, spooning the potion into a small flask.

“The same. Thank you, sir.” He took the bottle from the wizard’s outstretched hand, laying the coins on the table.

“She needs a wand.”

“I know.” And he would make sure she got one if, no when, he corrected, she woke up. It was his fault she was in this condition, and he would make sure that she never ended up here again.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow to check on her,” he said. Salazar thanked him and left.

Back at the inn, he tipped the potions down Amy’s throat, and waited. And waited.

Chapter Five

Three days went by and nothing changed. Amy clung to life by a thread. The doctor hadn’t showed up like he promised. And Salazar had yet to see Godric. Frustrated and angry, he set out for the doctor’s house again. But when he got there, the windows were boarded up and the door locked.

“Come out here, old man!” he yelled, beating on the door. “She’s dying and it’s your fault! Come out here! I need your help!”

“No amount of yelling is going to help you there, I’m afraid,” a man said, sticking his head out the adjoining building.

“Where is he?” Salazar asked, his breath coming in short gasps as the anger at the old witch doctor permeated throughout him. He imagined his face was as red as a beet.

“Don’t know. But he left two days ago.”

“Thank you,” he said, though being thankful was the farthest from the truth at the moment.

He watched with pity as Salazar smashed his hand into the door. With bleeding knuckles, he hurried back towards the inn, but the serpentine streets led him around and around until he didn’t know which way was what. Frustrated and tired, a crucifix on the door of a nearby building caught his attention. A church; he hadn’t been in one of those since he had left the protection of the monk. He had gone daily back then, at his protector’s insistence, and the calm familiarity of the quiet chapel soothed his nerves.

He lit a candle and said a short prayer for Amy, making the sign of the cross. On a day to day basis, he had little need for prayer and religion, but it couldn’t hurt. Amy needed all the help she could get right now.

“Can I help you?” He heard a voice ask from behind him. Salazar wheeled around to find a tall man who reminded him of a twig. His white beard hung down over too short black robes. He stared intently at Salazar, making him uncomfortable.

“No, thank you.”

“You were praying for your wife?” Salazar shook his head. “Sister?”

He shook his head again. “A friend,” he answered, furrowing his brow. He hadn’t really thought of Amy in those terms before, but it just came out and he didn’t bother to take it back.

“Ah, I see,” the priest said with a knowing look. Salazar wondered how much he really he did. “And she is unwell.”

Salazar hesitated. Unlike Godric, he didn’t readily share information. Too many people had failed him in the past, but this was a man of the cloth. Thoughts of the monk who had taught him magic prompted his honesty.

“She’s not getting better. The potions aren’t working. And the doctor has disappeared.” He couldn’t hide the hint of desperation in his voice. Not that he needed to. The fact that he was in a church lighting a candle for her was proof enough.

“Have faith, my son.”

“I’d rather have a potion to cure her,” he said sarcastically, his patience waning.

“Lucky for you, I have both. Light another candle,” the priest said, pointing at the candelabra. “And say another prayer.”

And then he left Salazar standing alone in the nave. He glanced around nervously. The silence enveloped him as he fumbled for another match. He murmured a rote prayer, the words fuzzy in his memory, and he only made it halfway through before the priest returned holding a small vial.

“Here,” he said, handing it to Salazar.

“What is it?”

“Phoenix’s tears. They’ll cure most anything,” the father explained.

“These are rare and expensive. Why are you doing this?”

“Because she needs it. And she needs you.”

“This is a dangerous profession for a wizard,” Salazar said, bitterness creeping into his voice as the memories of flames licking at a building much like this one assaulted him.

“Even wizards need faith. Now go,” he said, ushering him out the door. What wizards needed was to stay away from Muggles, but Salazar didn’t say it. This was no time to argue over the benefits of complete isolation.

“Thank you,” Salazar called over his shoulder, and then he ran the entire way back to the inn.

Rushing through the door, he saw the innkeeper’s daughter in the corner. He grabbed her by the arm. “Which staircase?” he demanded.

“What?” she asked with a look of confusion. He shook her, too out of breath to try and make her understand.

“Which one goes up?”

“That one,” she said, pointing. “Father made me change them back after you left earlier. No one around here likes to have any fun, if you ask me.”

But Salazar hadn’t asked her. And he didn’t stand around to listen to her chatter on either. Hurrying up the stairs, he banged through the door and into Amy’s room. She was just as he left her. With a slight tremble to his hand, he carefully measured out three drops, praying as each one fell into her open mouth.

Nothing happened right away. Salazar cursed himself for being so impatient that he forgot to ask the priest how fast it would work. Should he go back? Should he administer more? There wasn’t much left and there was a chance they would need it later on. He didn’t want to waste a precious potion in folly. He paced the room, trying to decide how long to wait, when a knock came at the door.

“There’s a man downstairs asking after you,” the maid told him. Salazar looked up.

Her words took a moment to sink in, but he finally managed to ask, “Who is it?” He hoped it wasn’t the one eyed man. He would not be giving the money back. As far as he knew, Salazar had won the game fair and square.

“Tall, blond fellow. Has a big sword,” she said with a smirk. Salazar scowled. It must be Godric. Where had he been? Three days had passed and only now he showed up. He nodded. The maid left with a curtsy. Salazar straightened his tunic, and threw some water on his face. Amy stirred some as he left, but she didn’t wake up. He wondered again if she ever would.

Coming down the stairs, he saw Godric standing in the doorway. He was the picture of health, his golden hair perfectly combed.

“Where have you been?” he demanded. Godric shrugged his shoulders, motioning to the barmaid. They sat down and she brought them both pints of ale.

“It’s a longer walk than you think,” he finally answered after a long swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bring me another and one for my friend,” he said to the maid who had followed Salazar down the stairs. She nodded with a giggle, and hurried off to fetch them their drinks. Salazar scowled. Did he even care about what happened to Amy?

“How is she?” Godric asked.

“Still dying, no thanks to you,” he said.

“What could I have done if I had been here sooner?”

“You could have dragged that worthless doctor from his bed and made him heal her.” He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head, trying not to make a scene.

“If he’s worthless then it wouldn’t have mattered,” Godric said sensibly. But Salazar didn’t want sensible at the moment. He wanted results. “Have you tried anything else?”

“A priest gave me a vial of phoenix’s tears. But it hasn’t done anything.”

“When did you give it to her?”

“Fifteen minutes ago. Right after I got back from the church.” Godric nodded. Salazar noticed he didn’t ask why Salazar had been in a church. Even as his best friend, Godric only knew half his history.

“Give it some time. She was in a bad way.”

“Is, you mean,” he corrected. Their drinks arrived then, delivered by the innkeeper’s daughter. She smiled winsomely at Godric, who returned her grin with a smile and a wink.

“To Amy,” he proclaimed, holding his glass up. “May she slay her dragon!” Salazar rolled his eyes. Even if she pulled through this, he couldn’t be serious about her continuing on with them. If things went according to his plan, once she was on the mend, they would leave some money to get her through her convalescence and then home while they journeyed on ahead.

They drank to Amy, and kept on drinking through the night. Salazar won them some more money while Godric entertained the ladies and men alike with stories of their adventures, some Salazar remembered having and some that sounded similar to things they had done but with a bit more embellishment.

All the while, his mind kept wandering to the girl in the bed upstairs who fought for her life. He checked on her several times, but to no avail. Sweat still clung to her brow and her breathing had grown even shallower than before. Each time he descended the steps, Godric looked up from his storytelling, and each time Salazar shook his head. There was nothing left to do but to hope and pray. And drink.

He woke up, his hand covered in his own drool and his eyes crusted shut, to the innkeeper’s daughter shaking his shoulder.

“Your girl is awake now,” she said. Salazar nodded and jumped up, rubbing at his eyes furiously as he climbed the stairs to Amy’s room.

He put his hand on the door. Opening it a crack, he heard voices. He paused to listen, curious to hear what Amy might say about him thinking he wasn’t nearby.

“Where am I?” Amy asked the maid who flitted around the room, emptying the chamber pot out the open window.

“The Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade,” she answered in a thick brogue.

“Are there lots of hogs here?”

“No, why do ye ask?” The maid said, sounding bewildered. Salazar smiled. Her first question after waking up and it had nothing to do with how she got there. That came next and a couple more until the entire story.

“He’s stayed by your side day and night,” the maid told her.

“Godric?” Amy asked, sounding eager.

“The blond charmer? No, the darker moodier one,” the maid said. He couldn’t see it, but Salazar imagined her smile fell. He threw open the door, surprising them both.

“Oh, and here he is now. G’day Mr. Slytherin.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and left the room.

“Mr. Slytherin,” Amy said. She didn’t look him in the eye, but twisted her blankets between her hands.

“How are you feeling?” He pulled over a chair from the corner. The scraping of the legs against the wooden floor echoed through the small room, emphasizing the awkward silence.

“Better.”

“Good.” He didn’t know what to say. He had stayed by her bed for days, wringing his hands and praying that she would make it through. And now that he knew she was alright, he couldn’t find the words to express those thoughts. Good hardly described it. Overjoyed, immensely relieved, even ecstatic better relayed what he felt at seeing her awake.

“You gave us quite a scare,” he continued. She looked up at him with a small smile. He had the niggling feeling that it was the plural pronoun that perked her spirits.

“What happened to the troll? Is it alright?”

“You’re worried about the creature that tried to kill you?” he asked aghast. “You weren’t so worried about him when you were calling the trees down on him.”

“I just wanted to stop him. Not hurt him,” she explained. With this new piece of information, Salazar only felt better about his decision that she should stay behind. If she felt guilty about hurting a vicious forest troll, then how would she feel about killing a dragon? No, it was clear that she had to remain behind.

“Well, you certainly stopped him. And almost killed yourself at the same time. This has to stop. You can’t control your magic and next time you’re going to die.”

“I can handle myself just fine, Mr. Slytherin,” she said indignantly, tipping her nose up in the air defiantly. “In fact, I feel much better. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get dressed and go down to dinner.”

She hardly looked able to rise up from her bed, let alone take her meals downstairs, but he didn’t say anything, just watched as she grabbed the hairbrush from the bedside table in an effort to prove her point. She made it three strokes before she gave a strangled cry of frustration, the brush sticking in her wild curls.

He sat down on the bed behind her, taking the brush from her hand. “Let me help you,” he said.

She frowned, but nodded, letting him pull back the mass of hair so that he could run the comb through it. He worked every knot and tangle until each strand lay smoothly. She relaxed under his care, leaning back against him with a great big sigh when he finally finished. He reveled in the warm weight of her pressing back against his chest, and for several moments, he didn’t break the comfortable silence.

It was Amy that broke the peace, quietly saying, “You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you?”

“It’s safer for-“

“If you leave me, then I’ll have to go home. I’ll have to go home empty handed and I can’t do that.” She twisted in his arms so she could look at his face. The desperation was written plainly in her face. “I can’t do that.”

Salazar stared into her eyes. He sensed that there was something else. Something she wasn’t saying.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked.

“My father wants me to marry a horrible man. I don’t like the way he looks at me. It makes my skin crawl and he’ll expect me to stay at home and have children. And-“ she choked over the words. “And I’ll never learn magic. I’ll never…”

A few tears leaked out, dripping down her cheeks, and she buried her face in his chest. He rubbed her back, trying to be comforting, but he couldn’t think of any words that might ease her pain.

“So getting yourself killed by a dragon will prevent you from marrying?”

“No!” she protested, raising her head. “It will let me choose for myself. I’ll have gold enough to build my own house, to buy my own farm. I just want the opportunity to choose for myself. I want to learn magic. I want to marry someone I love. Is that too much to ask?”

He smoothed back her hair from her face, his hand lingering. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, it isn’t. But you’re too weak to travel right now.”

She shook her head almost violently at this truth. “I’ll be fine. You’ll see,” she said, throwing back the covers and trying to stand. She had to grab the table to keep from tipping over, but she smiled like she had just run to the market and back.

He shook his head and stood. “You should lie back down. I’ll send up the maid with some bathwater.”

“Promise me you won’t leave me here,” she said as he went through the door.

He turned and the look on her face prompted him to answer, “I promise.” He regretted it until he realized he had only promised not to leave her in the inn. Whether she would continue on their quest was still up for debate.

Chapter Six

“We have to leave her here, Godric,” Salazar said not two minutes after he'd promised Amy.

“She won’t like that.” His friend sat thoughtfully considering the fire in the hearth. Two chickens turned on a spit and the smell of them was enough to make Salazar hungry. He realized he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days.

“It doesn’t matter what she will like,” he argued. “It’s for her own good. She nearly died. Do you think it’s wise that she throw herself in harm’s way again so soon after?”

Godric finally turned and looked at him, sighing. “No, I suppose not.”

“So we’re agreed?”

Godric didn’t nod enthusiastically. He didn’t even nod unenthusiastically. “You’re going to tell her?” he asked instead.

Salazar narrowed his eyes. Actually, he had hoped that he could convince his friend do to do the dirty work. She listened to Godric, where she argued with Salazar. She openly admired the blond warrior where her feelings toward the Potions maker varied from outright hatred to suspicious regard.

“What happened to that vaunted Gryffindor courage?” he asked. “Were you or were you not the man who took on a charging Manticore? Aren’t you on a mission to slay a dragon? And you’re afraid of a mere slip of a girl?”

“She’s not a slip of a girl, Salazar, and you know it. If she was you wouldn’t be down here asking me to deliver the bad news,” Godric argued. Sometimes Salazar wished his friend lived up to the meathead stereotype. His perceptiveness was not always helpful.

“You want me to tell her? Fine, but this time be prepared to Stun her if I need you to.” He slammed down his glass and looked around for another. Rowena brought him another. The ale sloshed out and over the sides as she swayed over to him. She really was a horrible maid, he thought, though an excellent witch when it came to Charms.

“What do you think about teaching?” he asked her, catching her by the sleeve before she could make her way back to the bar.

“Teaching? Teaching what?”

“Charms,” Salazar said.

“You’re not really thinking…” Godric started, but Salazar held up his hand, cutting off his sentence.

“We’re starting a school, me and him. And we’re going to need a Charms mistress. Are you interested?”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.

He nodded. “Sure. We have to raise the money first, but then we hope to start the premier school in Britain for witches and wizards. We’ll take anyone-Saxons, Picts, Scots…”

“Muggle-borns,” Godric filled in.

“And Muggle-borns,” Salazar relented with a scowl, thinking of the girl he had left upstairs in bed. She certainly needed training, but he still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t better off back at home in her tower knitting socks.

“I’d be happy to,” Rowena agreed, shaking each of their hands in turn. Godric waited until she skipped off before he rounded on Salazar and demanded an explanation.

“You can’t be serious about this?”

“If I’m to deliver bad news to Amy, then I am damned sure going to soften her up with some good news first. She might not hex me into oblivion when she hears that we’ve lined up a Charms professor,” Salazar explained.

“But still…” Godric stammered.

“Think of all the adoring children, Godric.”

“I was thinking annoying children, actually.”

Salazar leaned in with a smirk on his face. “That’s what a good Silencing Charm is for, my friend.”

Godric laughed and Salazar joined him. A while later, after making Rowena show him the way, he climbed the stairs and fell into bed. It had been a long three days of worry and little sleep. Now that things were looking up, he took advantage to rest and relax.

****

His relaxation only lasted as long as Amy thought Godric and Salazar wouldn’t leave her behind. A ruckus in the hall stirred him from sleep. Stumbling to the door, he threw it open to see Amy on the floor. She clutched a blanket to her chest, and she appeared to be arguing with two gruff and questionable looking wizards.

“I’m fine where I am, thank you very much. And I don’t appreciate the implications of your statements, sirs,” she said hotly.

“I don’t know nothing about no implications but if you need a bed, I got one you can warm,” the one closest her slurred. He teetered a bit, nearly falling over as he reached out for her. She scooted back to escape his grasp, and bumped right into Salazar. He grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her up.

“The lady said no,” he said, sneering at the two men. Pulling Amy into his room, he slammed the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed at her. The blanket slipped from her grasp, and he saw that she wore only her thin shift, and that it clung to every part of her. Her hair was tangled, and she looked feverish. Her eyes were glassy and her cheeks flushed red. She managed to look both vulnerable and wanton at the same time. No wonder those men had wanted to help her to bed.

She furrowed her brow, her eyes flashing with anger. “What were you doing? Sneaking out in the middle of the night without me?”

“No! I was saving you from two brutes since you are apparently sleeping in the hallway now!” he retorted. She had been so worried about them leaving her that she had decided to sleep in the hallway to prevent it, he realized.

“You weren’t leaving?” She looked puzzled and slightly pleased.

“No,” he repeated. “So there’s no need for you to start sleeping outside my door.” Amy nodded, and then slipped around him. He watched as she made her way to the bed. Considering it for a moment, she climbed in and started to make herself comfortable.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulous. Her audacity knew no end.

“You just said I couldn’t sleep in the hallway. So I figured I would sleep here instead.”

“With me?” He gulped. She nodded at the same time she plumped his pillow and laid her head down.

“Out of the question. Absolutely not,” he protested. “You are going back to your own room right now.”

He strode over the bed only to find that she had already fallen asleep. Looking down on her slender form, he sighed with dismay.

“Unbelievable.” If she weren’t so sick and weak, he wouldn’t hesitate to drag her from the bed. Instead, he took out his wand and Enlarged the bed to a size they both could fit in. Climbing in, he pulled the covers up to his chin and tried hard not to think about the fiery, frustrating, and increasingly intriguing woman next to him.

A knock at the door the next morning woke him up. He yawned and stretched his arms high above his head, starting when he saw the lump in the covers next to him. It took him a moment to recall the madness from the night before.

The knock became more persistent, and he hurried to answer it, cursing when he stubbed his toe in the process. Cracking the door an inch, he saw Godric standing in the hallway looking very worried.

“Is Amy with you?” he asked.

Salazar nodded. “She insisted on making sure we didn’t abandon her in the middle of the night.” He opened the door and motioned to the bed where she lay, still sleeping.

“Oh good,” Godric said with a relieved sigh. “I went to bring her breakfast and panicked when she wasn’t there.” He frowned suddenly, looking at Salazar in alarm. “She slept with you?”

“Not at my invitation,” Salazar reassured him.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Absolutely not. And I told her so last night, but you know how she is.” Godric nodded, but he still looked concerned.

“Just be careful, Salazar.”

Salazar frowned. “Careful of what? Being kicked out of bed? Her snoring so loudly I can’t sleep?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Godric said, sounding exasperated. He whispered in stark contrast to Salazar’s irritated and increasing volume.

“Then what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“I won’t be if you would teach me some more spells,” Amy said, coming up behind Salazar. He hoped she hadn’t seen him jump, turning around to scowl at her.

With a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair in tangles, she looked vulnerable and weak. Only the spark in her eyes and her defiant smile hinted at the fiery personality that lurked beneath the surface.

“You shouldn’t be practicing magic anytime soon,” he snarled.

“Don’t mind him,” Godric said, smiling at her and holding out his hand. She took it graciously and stepped around Salazar. “He’s cranky if he doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” she said as Godric escorted her back to her own room. Salazar watched them go, his irritation increasing twofold. It didn’t occur to him that he should be relieved she was gone from his room. Grumbling to himself, he dragged himself back to bed. He was going to need some more sleep if he was to tell Amy that she wasn’t coming with them.

****

Salazar had thought that the news of the new Charms professor would be enough to placate Amy. But he had sorely underestimated her resolve to fight the dragon.

“I don’t care if you have students already enrolled, Mr. Slytherin, I AM going with you! You promised you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

“No,” he argued, “I promised not to leave you here, as in this inn. We’ll see you recovered and make sure you have someone to escort you home, but there is no way we can, in good conscience, let you continue with us.” He tried to remain calm and collected, but it was hard to do when she was screaming at him.

“Good conscience! You haven’t wanted me with you from the beginning!”

“Because it’s been dangerous from the beginning!”

She didn’t answer him, but stalked off. He let her go, knowing she would come around sooner or later.

And if coming around to his thinking meant sulking around all day at the inn, then she was making progress, Salazar thought later as he watched her from across the room later that night. She had stayed in her room for several hours before deigning to descend the stairs and join them in the main room.

“I ended up in the cellar,” he heard her confide to Godric, but she just turned her nose up at him when she saw him approach.

“The staircases move depending on the day,” he told her, ignoring her ignoring him. “It’s Tuesday so they lead to the cellar.”

“But how-“ she started to ask before remembering she supposedly wasn’t talking to him. She turned to Godric instead and addressed her question to him. Godric shrugged. He hadn’t had the pleasure of encountering Rowena’s more frustrating Charms displays, though he had been thoroughly delighted with her dancing bar stools.

“You can’t stay angry with me forever,” Salazar said, taunting her just a little. She glowered at him, her eyes narrowing into small slits.

“Oh, yes I can.”

“You don’t want to know how the stairs work?” He could see her curiosity warring with her indignation and anger at Salazar’s earlier behavior. He suppressed a laugh at the obvious conflict, but sobered quickly when she brushed past him. She went to the other side of the room, sat at a crowded table, and began a spirited conversation with the one eyed man from the first night and a few others.

“You’re not going to win with her,” Godric said knowingly. Salazar just frowned.

“And you will?”

“I didn’t say that, but it’s easier to catch flies with honey than it is with vinegar,” he said before a winsome wench pulled him away for a drink and some cards.

Salazar watched with clenched fists. He stayed in the corner for some time, just watching her. He didn’t intervene when several of her companions made inappropriate comments that made her redden from the tip of her ears and down her neck. Contemplating Godric’s words, he wondered what might appease her.

She wanted to do magic. Salazar didn’t want her to do magic. Not because she was Muggle-born but because the incident with the troll and her near death proved she couldn’t handle it, not without a wand anyway. And then it hit him. A wand.

He snuck up behind Amy where she sat listening to a bawdy minstrel sing a song that made even him blush, and whispered in her ear. “It’s a charm.”

She jumped slightly at his sudden appearance, turning around with a look of surprise. “What?”

“The stairs work on a complicated charm that changes their direction depending on the day of the week. On Sundays and Mondays they come down here. On Tuesdays they go to the cellar.”

“And the rest of the days?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Come with me,” he said, pulling her away from the crowded room.

“I’m still angry with you,” she said as he led her by the hand through a narrow and dark hallway out the back of the inn.

“I know.” But he hoped the peace offering he gave her would change all that.

“Where are we going? What about Godric?” she asked. His enthusiasm at his plan faltered at her insistence on remembering Godric. What about him?

“He won’t even notice we’re gone,” he assured her, trying to ignore the hurt look that answer provoked in her. He had seen the jealous stares she had shot at the tavern women Godric allowed to sit in his lap while he played at cards and drank. She watched Gryffindor while Salazar stood in a corner and watched her.

He pushed away any thoughts of his friend, and focused on Amy and this surprise he had for her. “I want to take you somewhere. Will you let me…?” he motioned for her to come closer.

Hesitantly, she stepped into his embrace. He held her at the waist with one arm, and stroked up and down her arm with the other in a calming rhythm.

“Where are we going?”

“London,” he answered, picturing Diagon Alley firmly in his mind.

“Lon-“ Amy exclaimed, but before she could get the whole word out, they popped out of existence. A second later they landed in front of Ollivanders.

“don,” she finished. “What was-where are we?” He turned her around so she could see the sign that hung above the shop door. “Quality wands since 382 B.C.?”

“I thought that with a proper wand you could stop using your heritage as an excuse for your sloppy magic,” he said softly in her ear. He wasn’t prepared for her excited squeal, but he didn’t mind how she turned and grabbed his neck in a fierce hug. Then she hesitated.

“But I don’t have any money,” she said, pulling back and looking at him.

He shrugged. “I won a few Galleons at cards last night.”

“Are you sure?”

He leaned in again, nuzzling her neck. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.” Perhaps with this, he could convince that she needed to stay behind. She still got to practice her magic, but a safe distance away from any dragon. Until she could handle her new wand with ease, she would still present a danger to their mission.

He grabbed her hand, and pulled into the store, her wide-eyed look of wonderment never leaving her face in the forty-five minutes it took to choose the right wand. She destroyed two shelves and an antique vase before they chose with a willow bark wand with a unicorn tail hair core.

“Now there’s no excuse for you leaving me behind,” she stated, waving her wand in a grand gesture. Boxes flew off the top shelf. Amy remained unmoved after an hour of similar disasters as Ollivander waved them back into place.

“You still have to learn how to use it,” he pointed out to her, motioning to the mess. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him sweetly. She had a knowing look that said she knew he wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t dare to. Shaking his head, he paid and led her outside, Apparating them both back to Hogsmeade.

Her hand was still firmly encased in his as they walked back to the inn. She tugged on it just as they reached the door. Pausing, he stopped and looked back at her.

“What is it?” She looked timid, as though she were debating something within herself.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. And then like a forest sprite, she skipped past him and hurried into the inn. He kept sight of her brown curls as they bounced through the press of people, his hand lingering on the spot where her lips had touched his skin.

How was it that someone so irritating had such an effect over him, he wondered as he watched her go. Shaking his head, he followed her inside.

Part 3