CLMR

french - 20's - history lover - movies - tv-shows - fashion - architecture - drawings and shipping - I use this blog to post my ridiculous graphics and texts or reblog nice posts

Michael Fassbender as Salazar Slytherin
Imogen Poots as Helga Hufflepuff

He was dying.
Godric showed no doubt during the duel, casting attack upon attack, touching each vital point, and being careful to never used the unforgivable curse which could have shorten this combat, contrary to Salazar who didn’t hesitate to try it. In vain. During long minutes, the title of Greatest Duellist of the Era that Godric wore became evident.
The ground felt cold against Salazar’s back and the blood warm on his chest. Red. Everywhere. Red as the head of the wizard he called friend once and who mortally wounded him without looking back on his ruined body. The irony to end his life covered of this red color. Almost funny. Almost.
The ambitious Wizard laid under the falling snow, alone, waiting for a kind gesture from the Reaper. His eyes closed slowly. He couldn’t see anyway after a spell Salazar didn’t even hear coming, ears filled by his own blood.
So he neither heard her soft footsteps nor her body kneeling next to his nor the words Helga whispered softly. The only thing he perceived were the heat of her delicate fingers on his forehead. At this exact moment, his withering world was darkness, silence and her hand on his skin. He knew worse.
Did she help the red-headed wizard to find him? How did she come there? And why? To find humanity in Lord Slytherin’s soul and save him? Oh the weak and vulnerable and stupid -and so warm- heart of Helga. But the injuries were too severe to intempt something… did she even want to?
Slowly, she bent over him, her hair falling like a cascade of gold around his face, her hand finding the back of his head. A perfum filled his lungs. Honey. And lavender. Salazar tried to remember the last time he smelled that exact combinaison… a kitchen maybe? Years ago.
Blind and deaf, he could only feel. Fingers in his bloody hair. A dress against his side. Silky locks of hair on his face. And a soft caress on his lips. Pleasant. Soothing. The pressure lingered and moved slightly. Helga whispered but he didn’t hear and to his surprise, he recognized these three letters coming out from her mouth:
"Sal…"
A salty taste on his lips now. Her tears on his cheeks were the last thing he felt from this world.
And then nothing.

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