Disclaimer: Believe me, I wish I owned Salazar and Godric! XP

Warning: Contains male/male, though it's very mild. In fact, it could probably happen just between friends, but I do consider the relationship between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor to be a romantic one, thanks to a lot of hilarious plots some friends and I came up with for our RPG.

"His temperature has only risen since we gave him the Cooling Potion, Giselda. What are we to do!"

"We must wait, Aiarra."

A boy of twelve years leaned casually against the hard stone surface of a wall, his arms folded and eyes closed. However, he was listening intently to the hushed whispering of the healers within the room beyond the thin door beside him. The corridor was eerily empty and silent, and the tall glass windows facing the east allowing long rays of bright pale morning-light only added to the atmosphere.

The young child in the hall was not supposed to be there. Nobody was allowed into the Hall of Healing without permission from Mother Gwenmyr, and nosy children who snuck in were almost always caught, and Jessymhyr made sure they were severely punished. If the rooms lining the west side of the corridor were empty, the unfortunate child would only have to write lines on the courtyard wall and do an extra round of chores. However, if even one room had a sick occupant, the trespasser would write lines, do the extra chores, and receive lashings.

Salazar Slytherin's curiosity had gotten the better of him, though. He and the sick boy were bitter rivals, and he'd simply had to investigate when he'd found that his enemy had been taken with fever. Besides, a little rule-breaking had never killed anyone, Salazar reasoned illogically.

So there he was, leaning quietly against the wall, listening. The healers hadn't said anything particularly interesting, though, much to the eavesdropper's disappointment.

"His eyes!" came a surprised exclamation through the door. Salazar's eyes snapped open, his attention snatched at once. He pulled sharply away from the wall. "Giselda, come quick, he's awakened!"

Pause. "It will last for a brief time," sighed the elderly witch. "His forehead still burns with a thousand fires, and see how cloudy his eyes are now..."

There was an incoherent mumbling, barely audible through the door. Instinctively, Salazar pressed the side of his head against the door to hear, but there was nothing more for a short time.

"Slytherin...?"

Salazar's head snapped up immediately, and he backed away from the door, his dark turquoise eyes widening in apprehension. Surely they could not know he was there? And even if they'd sensed the presence of a child, how could they know it was he?

"He wishes to see Slytherin. Salazar Slytherin. You know him-- the lad who often sits in the tower wit your niece, poring over spellbooks and scrolls. No doubt he is there with Rowena this very moment. Go, fetch him at once!"

"Yes, ma'am."

The thing about the Hall of Healing that trapped so many unfortunate children was that it lacked any decor besides the windows. No curtains, no statues, no tapestries; nothing. There was nowhere to conceal one's self at all, no matter how small the child may be. And before the startled Salazar had time to react, the door was flying open.

Aiarra Danielle was clearly as surprised to see Salazar as he was frightened to be caught, and the woman with long, dark red hair spilling down the back of her simple gray robes chose to frown."

"Salazar, you know you are not supposed to be in this hall," she said disapprovingly. When the boy merely shrugged, she sighed and grasped his shoulder gently in one thin, pale hand. "As I'm sure you are aware, Godric Gryffindor is terribly ill. Salazar, he might...he might...die."

Salazar shrank back from Aiarra's touch at once, his eyes going round in shock. Gryffindor...die? Certainly not! Indeed, the eleven-year-old was a horrible pest who brought Salazar endless grief and annoyance, but he had never stopped to ponder what would happen should the younger boy die.

"However, he has stirred from his troubled slumber and requests your presence." Aiarra's frown deepened as she took a hold of the boy's arm to steer him into the room. It was no secret that Salazar and Godric did not get along. Why would Godric wish to see him, of all people, when he was practically on his death bed?

Salazar allowed himself to be tugged along gently into the room. It was small, windowless, and lit with many candles. The walls were of stone, and bare of pictures, though a mirror hung opposite the door. What took up most of the space was a bed to the right of the door, and tables cluttered with bottles of dull-colored potions, jars of water and powders, dried herbs, stone bowls, wooden spoons, and parchments scrawled with spells for healing. The bed had a simple framed, and was covered with a pile of worn blankets. At first, Salazar didn't even notice that anyone was in it.

Giselda did not question how Aiarra had brought Salazar so swiftly, but drew him over to the bedside with a wrinkled hand. "We shall be just outside the door," she whispered. Salazar did not know if she was warning him or just letting him know, but regarded her coldly either way. He turned back to the bed, and simply stood, staring.

A small boy's face peeked out of the bundle of blankets, surrounded by feather-soft pillows. Usually, his countenance held mischief, a cheerful grin curving his lips while a foolish desire to prove himself danced in those brown eyes tinged with crimson. Now, however, Salazar had never seen someone look so vulnerable. Godric did not smile or laugh, he did not have something witty to tell Salazar on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were misty, lost, like he wasn't really there, and lacked the daring twinkle they often had.

The click of the door confirmed that the children were alone. Salazar stood uncomfortably, hugging his arms around his narrow bony frame as though to ward off a nonexistent chill.

"Sa...Sal...," rasped Godric, gazing at Salazar and trying weakly to force a smile. "You came..." He made it sound like he really, truly appreciated his enemy's presence. "I knew... I knew you would...come...for me..."

The sincerity caught Salazar off-guard. He blinked, startled, then knelt on the cold stone floor beside the bed to hear Godric's thin voice better. Besides, it seemed...like the right thing to do.

"I am here, Gryffindor," Salazar whispered softly, trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion. To his surprise, this task was proving more difficult than the boy had expected, with those big, brown eyes staring up at him, almost pleadingly, if that was something Godric was even capable of doing. "What...what d'you want?"

Something warm and soft came to rest on the twelve-year-old's wrist, and Salazar's gaze traveled down, astonished to find Godric's slightly smaller hand covering his. Slowly, Godric moved his fingers between Salazar's and grasped the older boy's hand feebly. "I...never really...hated...you...," he murmured quietly. "Please..."

Salazar wanted to take his hand away, to look somewhere other than that defenseless face, but it was as though Godric had cast a terribly spell and locked them together. He could not summon the will to turn away... But that was Gryffindor, ever the capturer of hearts. Salazar reminded himself that he mustn't fall for such things.

"Please...," repeated Godric, now seeming to struggle against unconsciousness as his voice threatened to fade and his eyes to close. "Stay with me, Sal... Stay with me...forever..."

It was too much for one vindictive child to take in all at once. He'd only ever harbored indifference and hate for the boy-- how could Godric be saying these things? Salazar realized it must be the illness, speaking through Godric's mouth, for the real Gryffindor only teased and irritated the older boy for all the time they'd known one another. "Gryffindor, I-- I can't," Salazar whispered, almost in a hiss. He ripped his gaze away, tugging on his hand. To his surprise, Godric's grip only tightened, and a look of utmost terror stole over the younger wizard's face.

"You...must stay...!" he said, his voice disappearing again. "I don't...want...to fade...alone..." Godric's eyes shone with tears, and for once, he was just another little boy afraid of the dark. Unable to fight sleep off any longer, the eleven-year-old slipped back into slumber, his watery eyes shutting and his grip on Salazar's hand loosening.

Salazar stared at the sleeping boy, no longer trying to pull his hand away. He remembered, remembered that Godric might die, and hesitantly lifted his free hand from his side and moved it over the younger boy's forehead. It burned furiously beneath Salazar's cool hand, making him wince, but he pressed down nonetheless. A peculiar sensation stole over him, and one might say that Salazar willed Godric to live, to fight off the horrible fever that had taken control of his small body.

The door opened again, and the two women returned to the room.

Godric's fever worsened, and everyone in the orphanage knew the child was fated to die. All the women who cared for the children were gathered in the boy's room within the Hall of Healing on the following night, praying and mourning. Every orphan was in their dormitory, heads bent sorrowfully for the coming loss of their bright and cheerful playmate.

Every orphan, that is, except for one Salazar Slytherin.

Once again, the twelve-year-old leaned outside Godric's door in the Hall of Healing, listening to the ring of the silence. The moonlight glided through the windows across from him, across his shoulder-length black hair and making his pale skin seem nearly translucent. The boy gazed at the light in the night sky. Godric could not, would not die. He had stood over the child, hand against his head, making sure of it. Gryffindor was not meant to die-- Salazar didn't want him to, and the boy found that this was reason enough. Godric hadn't wanted to die alone, and by his life, Salazar would make sure it was not so!

Upon the very stroke of midnight, a gasp rang throughout the room.

Godric lay awake, keeping his eyes shut for the moment. He had the vague feeling of a heavy curtain being lifted from his shoulders-- a hot cloud previously filling his head slid out silently through his ear, vanishing into the cool air. Deciding it would be a decent time to wake, the young boy's mouth opened wide in a yawn, and he slipped his arms out from under the pile of blankets to stretch them as he did so.

He hesitantly opened his red-brown eyes and looked around. However, the first thing to move through his mind was not the alarmed looks of the healers around him, but rather, the image two silver snakes twisted elegantly around a golden staff, and a boy not much older than himself holding it.

"Slytherin..." But that did not sound right. Godric shook his head, then smiled slightly. "No. Salazar."

Aiarra Danielle: I-ar-a dan-yell

Giselda: Jis-el-da

Jessymhyr: jess-ih-mer

Mother Gwenmyr: mo-ther gwen-meer

Hey! Alright, one of my favorite ships, Salazar/Godric. This is just a little one-shot of them as children. I'm plotting up a nice, long fanfiction for something similar to this, revolving around the orphanage plot, which I'll do a bit of explaining for.

There's this place called Gwenmyr Orphanage, founded by an elderly witch called Mother Gwenmyr. It takes in children that are orphans, whether their parents are dead, abandoned them, or abused them. In my story, Godric's parents have been killed. Salazar's mother is dead, but he ran away from home because he'd almost literally been forgotten by his father, though I suppose it's more that the man ignored his son. Anyways, it begins when Godric is 11 and Salazar 12 (going on 13), but for this one-shot, I originally had Godric being 9 and Salazar 11. If you see a spot where I forgot to change the ages, let me know! I reread this, but there's a good chance I missed something.

As for those other characters I've made up... Aiarra Danielle is Rowena Ravenclaw's aunt. Rowena's widowed mother works at the orphanage, educating the children a bit on how to read. Giselda is the head healer. Mother Gwenmyr founded the orphanage, and her slightly younger sister, Jessymhyr, is a bitter old hag that oversees the punishments of the children, among various other things.

Anyhow, sorry for the long A/N. I just thought I'd mention some of this stuff. The story will probably take a very long time to write, and I would prefer to have all of Book 1 finished before I post it on so that I don't have to worry about forgetting about it and getting any reviewers I manage to pick up pissed off for not updating!

Oh, and I do believe that Salazar Slytherin had a special gift for healing, due to a bit of research on snakes I did a while ago. You know the hospital symbol with the snakes around the staff, probably...