That Was Just A Dream

That Was Just A Dream

Life is bigger
It's bigger than you

The moon was presently covered by a veil of wispy mist. The glistening towers of the newly completed Hogwarts shone in the bright starlight. It was a balmy, benevolent night near midsummer, with small thin clouds swathing the deep blackness of the sky. Helga had taken her blanket and pillow outside to sleep on the sweet-scented, soft grass of the Queerditch field (a/n: the term Quidditch did not come into use until well after the setting of this story). Rowena was sitting by her, her knees drawn up to her chest, staring at the sky with its stippling of stars and saying nothing. To Helga's great concern, Rowena had seemed quieter and more pensive of late, more so than her usual seriousness.

Helga Hufflepuff was now in her twenty-fourth year, as was her greatest friend Rowena Ravenclaw. She was rather diminutive in stature, with a robust and healthy figure accentuated by the obvious curves of her body. Waves of rippled red hair scented of roses streamed down her back, and her startlingly green eyes contemplated the infinite stars along with Rowena.

She and Rowena formed an interesting pair, and if one were to look at them one would think them the two most unlike women in all of the world. Rowena was tall, lithe, and willowy, and Helga had noticed that however many petticoats she wore she could still not achieve even the illusion of hips. Her black hair was longer even than Helga's, and straight as an arrow, though it was tousled now, and had been so ever since she had met Rowena in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Helga didn't need to ask why her friend's carefully groomed coiffure now stuck out in every direction, a halo of messy strands framing her face. She knew perfectly well. She knew that strange and curious sparkle that Rowena's eyes had taken on of late. She knew that rosy flush, so obvious on her friend's pale face. She knew exactly what was happening to Rowena. Rowena was in love.

Helga laughed inwardly and stretched out her cramped muscles, feeling her deep breaths strain the lacings of her forest-green bodice. Her voice was a beautiful alto, sweet and deep and full of health. "Rowena, you might as well tell me. Do you think you can try to hide it from me? The signs are plain on you."

"Be it really so obvious?" Rowena's words were high, her voice clear, and like a toning bell.

"Aye. Think you I would never guess?"

"So, my overwise friend, know you whom I lust for, then?"

"Nay, as to that I have no idea. Care you to tell me?"

"When the sun rises at midnight, aye. But you may guess to your heart's content."

"Be it that fine lad we did see wandering round the Queerditch field?" "Him? He be no more than seventeen, I have no taste for that sort of thing."

"Salazar, then? Our own dear Parselmouth? Think you he knows not only the tongue of snakes but words to win your rather cold heart?" Helga's tone carried a little humor with it, for she knew that while there was an unusual bond between Rowena and Salazar, that Salazar was at present devoted to someone Rowena's opposite.

"Aye me, I do think not!"

"I did think that your feelings for Godric were long past..."

Rowena said nothing, but continued to stare at the stars.

"Ah! I have hit it, have I not? 'Tis Godric."

"Helga..."

Helga only laughed and reached out her hand to smooth her friend's wild hair. "It happened to me, it did happen to all of our old friends! Think you that you would never be touched by Godric's peculiar magic?"

"Oh, shut it, Helga..." Yet Helga could see the beginnings of a smile blossom on Rowena's face."

"Aye, then, I'll utter not a word of it to him."

They stopped conversing and Helga listened to the sounds of the night. There were the crickets, of course, but always more, here at Hogwarts. The metallic crash of the fencing swords on the Great Hall was very pronounced tonight. She sincerely hoped that Salazar and Godric wouldn't hurt each other at fencing practice. Mayhap I should go and see for meself how they are getting along.

"Rowena, dear?"

"Urm?" Rowena had half-drifted into sleep.

"I'm going to make sure Godric and Salazar don't hurt each other." She bent down and kissed her friend's cheek before standing up and brushing bits of grass off of her green skirts.

"Uh...yuh...ungh..."

"I do understand perfectly, Rowena." Helga chuckled to herself, knowing that Rowena was too comatose by now to care, and headed off for the Castle, the rough sounds of the men's fencing swords clanging in her ears. She had shed her shoes, and the soft grass sank at her footfall.

Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Helga crept into the Great Hall, holding up her skirts so as not to make a sound. She knew all too well that Salazar and Godric didn't like her deliberately interfering with their fencing practices. Rowena was perfectly content to sit elegantly and silently watch them pretend to want to kill each other. Yet of late Helga had felt that they weren't just pretending anymore.

Both Godric's and Salazar's faces shone with sweat. Godric had taken off his shirt altogether, and his robust healthy chest glistened in the flickering candlelight. Salazar had merely unlaced his, and Helga could see the pale skin of his chest, in deep contrast with his pink-flushed face. Salazar had a fragile, tense figure, accentuated by his unruly black hair (a/n, remind you of anybody we know?) and expressive violet eyes. Godric was all muscle and brawn, with remarkable amber eyes. Helga could understand very well how Rowena could lust for him. Yet Salazar...she allowed herself a surreptitious smile, why she did not quite know.

"Salazar, methinks we have been rehearsing these patterns for hours on end! Do you never tire? I do think that you do...here, my friend, sit, you are weary..."

Salazar wiped his brow and furrowed his eyebrows, before nodding and collapsing into a nearby seat. "Aye me! But I do believe that move has been mastered. It is perfect."

Helga ran a hand through her rich red hair and stepped out of the shadows into the Hall. Godric was the first to see her. "Helga! I did but think that you were out on the Queerditch field with Rowena..."

She could feel Godric's innocent gaze, his amber eyes benevolent, and then Salazar's piercing stare, as if he could see straight into the secret parts of her soul. "She did fall asleep, and I came to see how you two were getting along in your practices."

"Helga, you know I like it not if you be spying on us..." Salazar's voice was cold.

"You don't seem to mind with Rowena..."

Salazar's voice was barely a mutter. "I do daresay Rowena offers far better company..."

"Now, now, Salazar, calm yourself! Helga did but want to say a good even to us!" Godric plastered a rather fake smile on his face.

"'Tis, I be sure, only the exhaustion that besmears my words. Forgive me, Helga."

"Since you do but rarely sound so petulant, Salazar, dear, I think I will forgive you. On one condition, however. I would that you come with me to the Star-Viewing Tower and help me to locate a few constellations I am unsure of. You do seem to have a mastery of such knowledge."

"Aye, Helga, I'll assist you. Godric, 'twas a good match, and I thank you heartily for it."

"You too, my friend. I do think I shall go me to Rowena and see how she sleeps." He was gone unnecessarily quickly, and when the doors of the Hall had closed behind him, Helga burst into peals of laughter, which to her sounded bitter and rather contrived.

"What be so amusing?"

"They way he hurried after Rowena like a stag after some quarry. I do think me that Rowena was only pretending to sleep, and did know right well that Godric would come to see her!"

Salazar said nothing but frowned, and they went their way to the Star-Viewing Tower, not saying one word to each other. The fog had faded and now sat placidly at the corners of the sky. The staircases of Hogwarts twisted and turned, and endless maze that Helga knew her way through well. Normally she adhered more closely to the study of magical herbs and plants, but one night Rowena had dragged her away from her flower specimens and taken her to the Star-Viewing Tower to point out some of the great formations to her. For some strange reason, they had enchanted Helga.

She also knew very well that Rowena and Salazar had dallied many a night in the Tower, and that he had almost as extensive a knowledge of the heavens as did her erstwhile friend. I do but wonder if they tryst here anymore, or if Rowena's heart is entirely Godric's. Aye me, but this is a foolish thing. I do think Godric and Salazar should concentrate more on the building of our dear school than chasing after Rowena and lauding her as a paragon of perfection...

Her thoughts consumed her and she was woken from them by a light touch on her shoulder. "We have arrived, Helga."

"Aye me, so we have." She rubbed her forehead and murmured the password to the door. "Ursula Minoris."

"You do seem a mite distracted."

"I was only thinking." She hurried through the door. She had decided she didn't like Salazar's tone tonight. It was a bit too emotional for her sensitivities.

Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much

Helga put her hand on the stone rail of the Tower and searched the moor below for a glimpse of Rowena and Salazar. She could hear, far in the distance, the sound of high, tinkling laughter. There they were. Barely, she saw a flash of blue - Rowena's clothes. She turned to Salazar with a slight smile, which did not belie the strange emptiness she felt. "Lace up your shirt, you'll catch your death of cold."

"I shan't. If Godric can run amok like a child shirtless, then so can I."

"Always whiny, are you not?" Now she remembered why Salazar sometimes gave her a bad feeling. He was so jealous of Godric. It was as plain on his face as love was on Rowena's.

"You're just envious of Rowena. She will have some daring cavorts tonight, while all you'll do is gaze up at some stars."

Helga's eyes flashed with an anger she seldom showed. "Tis always Rowena, is it not? Open your eyes, Salazar, and see plainly."

Salazar still had the tone of a petulant child. "Did not we come up here to stargaze, and we find ourselves yelling at each other about Rowena?"

"You do not see it, do you, Salazar? You cannot see that it has always been about Rowena, for you, for Godric, even for that stripling lad wee saw in the Queerditch Field! Never mind about Helga, when one can have greater fun with Rowena!"

"Stop it. You're speaking nonsense. We all appreciate you."

"But you all love Rowena! All I can ever hear of is Rowena! I be not some unfeeling creature you can just ignore! It seems that to you - to bloody all of you - I am not flesh and blood but merely an encyclopedia that you can consult when you bloody well wish!"

"Me? So I ignore you and you like it not?"

"Oh, just shut it, Salazar, I have no mind for your teasings!"

"I think you have quite a mind for it."

"I shan't put up with this, you know! I did ask simply for your assistance and I do get nothing but your contempt! I don't want to talk to you. Go and worship Rowena. I will be with my parchments. At least they do speak to me in sweeter words than ever you or Godric did!"

As she stomped out of the Tower and slammed the door behind her, Salazar smiled ever so slightly and absentmindedly fiddled with the laces of his shirt.

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions

Helga stormed down the flights of steps, almost tripping over her skirts in her anger. She flung open the door to her office without even the requisite password. The mirror on the door grumbled in an undertone, "Daft nitwit, damn near shattered me..."

"Shut it..." Helga grabbed at a sheaf of parchments and angrily riffled through them. Yet she knew she couldn't deceive herself. There wasn't anybody she could talk to about her repressed anger. Godric would just shift from foot to foot, give her a pat on the head, and tell her that she was just as invaluable as Rowena. Salazar...well, she had already experienced what Salazar would do. As for Rowena herself, she would only bite her lip, twirl a few straight midnight-black hairs, and offer her a feeble smile. Mayhap I should go pour my troubles out to the lad on the Queerditch Field. At least he'll not throw meaningless phrases at me.

No, she didn't have to let them treat her with such contempt. She was going to stomp right back up to that Star-Viewing Tower and tell Salazar calmly and rationally why she felt the way she did.

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

She threw on her burgundy cloak and started up the steps to the Star-Viewing Tower. The trip was long, and made longer to Helga by the fact that she'd climbed them already in the past hour. She wondered if Salazar would still be there. Maybe he had left to sulk in his rooms and idly aim petty curses at his very battered moving portrait of Godric. She stopped at the door, wondering if she should actually go in. Well, you came this far, Helga...

He was both looking out over the moors now, through the large window holes of the Star-Viewing Tower. She silently joined him at the window. Godric and Rowena were nowhere to be seen, but Helga was sure she glimpsed a white shirt flung carelessly on the ground. She heard, from very far away, the tinkling peal of a woman's laughter. She very much felt like she would vomit.

"You needn't load those meaningless words on me, Salazar."

"They be not meaningless, Helga."

"Hmph." She turned to face him, although he did not move. The moonlight made the etched features of his profile more prominent. He was like a sculpture made of alabaster, untouchable, impenetrable.

Suddenly he whipped his head around to look at her and his eyes pierced her through. "You understand not, Helga, and mayhap you never will. It has..." He paused momentarily. "It has always been..."

"Aye, I do know well, 'tis always been Rowena!"

He didn't respond to this, but a look came on his face as though he had just tasted something very awful, and without warning, very quickly, almost as if he was afraid to do it, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her to him with the considerable strength in his wiry arms, and covered her lips with his own.