Her Fool

A/N: I do not own any Harry Potter related content in this story.

This story was written for an amazing friend, The Lady Arturia- ArtOholic (Arty), on the Diagon Alley II forum. A big thank you to her for also taking the time to beta it!

I am new to writing any Founders fic, let alone a pairing between Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin- I do hope I have done it justice, and I have tried to make it sound as medieval-ish as possible.

Thank you all for taking the time to read it!

The weak sunlight shone through the open windows, creating broken golden patterns along the stone floor. From somewhere in the distance, birds could be heard chirping merrily, competing with the loud clinking of metal as swords clashed together in a well-rehearsed rhythm. Royal blue skirts brushed the floor as bronze slippers tapped along hurriedly, urging their wearer to go faster.

On lovely, warm days such as this, Rowena would usually find herself outside by the lake, working on a tapestry whilst keeping an eye on Godric as he encouraged the students to duel. Helga would keep her company, laughing good naturedly as Godric spun false tales of adventures in dark forests and taming dragons in far off places. She herself would allow a small smile to grace her delicate features as she watched her chosen apprentices raise their eyebrows in disbelief at him- Godric often deemed her students to be sceptical, whilst she thought them wise.

That particular morning, however, she had decided, on a whim, to spend some alone time in the castle's courtyard. Her students had taken it upon themselves to research a variety of charms that one would find useful in everyday life, leaving her free to spread seeds amongst the peacocks who resided there. She had enjoyed watching the brilliantly coloured males strut around, fanning their green and blue tails as they cooed at the females- really, she had thought, males of any species could be rather foolish when it came to attracting females.

Unfortunately, her enjoyment had been cut short as a rather red-faced Helga, grasping her pale, yellow skirts just above her ankles, had come running into the courtyard. The rather plump lady was usually much more composed than she had appeared at that moment; however, Rowena had not batted an eyelid at the woman's dishevelled red hair or worried blue eyes.

She had allowed her companion a few moments to still her breathing before she had calmly enquired, "Whatever is wrong, my dear?"

Helga had straightened her skirts, tugging nervously on her collar as she had caught her breath. "Rowena, you must make haste. Salazar has gotten himself into a situation and I am afraid that he is being rather difficult again."

Rowena had felt her breath catch at this news, but did not allow her features to show the distress she felt at said news. She had thought for a moment, to decide what she would need, sending Helga off to fetch the required ingredients, before leaping up from her position on the low, stone wall.

It was now that she found herself striding quickly down the corridor and down flights of stairs—biting her tongue to keep her from uttering the sordid words that tried to escape her full lips as the staircases shifted. Her mind was full of curses aimed at Godric for thinking it a good idea to charm them this way; she did not think his argument that they would be useful, should Hogwarts ever be invaded, held any logic, considering that the four founders of the school were well known for their magical prowess.

She ignored the ominous sound of dripping water, echoing as it hit the flagstones, and descended further into the castle's dungeons. She cringed as she thought of the high likelihood that rats could be scampering around at her feet. She really wished that Godric or Salazar would spend more time in coordinating the completion of the castle's interior, rather than spending their time engaged in jousting and designing secretive rooms that they did not need. Alas, she could not entirely blame them, for she knew that it was a rare man who could possess the logic she prided herself with having.

Thinking of said man, her heart thrummed wildly in her chest. He was almost as stubborn as Godric and so it was no wonder that the two often duelled. She prayed that whatever he had done this time hadn't caused irreparable damage.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally slowed down as she came to stand in front of his chambers. She immediately brushed off the non-existent dirt from her silk dress, hoping that she did not look dishevelled in the slightest. She ran a delicate hand through her long, ebony locks, ensuring that they were smoothed neatly into position. With a deep breath, she raised a hand and knocked on the oak door twice.

"Lord Salazar, it is I, Lady Rowena. Are you decent?"

"Enter."

She pushed open the door and immediately threw her hand up to cover her mouth and nose. The stench emanating from the bed was much more than she could bear; a mix of sweat, ale and blood accosted her senses as she moved to open the door wider and allowed air to circulate the room. When she no longer felt as though she would pass out, she allowed her blue eyes to focus on the figure propped up on a mattress.

"Oh? What brings you here, Rowena? Where are those half-bloods you felt the need to teach? Off with their filthy muggle parents?" he spat, crossing his arms over his chest and wincing as he did so.

Used to the jabs he often threw at her, she calmly replied, "I am here because I heard that an arrogant lord needed to be healed after yet another accident."

"I do not need your help. I am pure of blood, and can get better on my own without the help of a maiden."

Unperturbed, Rowena shook her head and walked slowly to his side. He made to move as far away from her as he could manage, groaning as the movement had caused further pain.

"Correct me if I am mistaken, Salazar, but I do believe that you felt that you could 'only ever heal by the touch of a woman', or has that changed since your last foolish quest?" Her lips pulled upwards as she saw him scowl.

"Do not call me a fool—we shall leave that title to Lord Gryffindor," he retorted as his scowl grew and his cold, dark eyes bore into hers. "I wonder what he would say if he saw you attending to me without the presence of your lady's maids?"

It was now Rowena's turn to scowl as he knowingly touched on her weak spot.

In the years before she had left her family home to establish a magical school for witches and wizards throughout England, she had been the focus of her mother's need to climb in society. Whilst the Ravenclaws were nobility- her father being knighted at a rather young age- her mother insisted that all Rowena needed to achieve in life was an early marriage to a Lord from a wealthier family. As such, she had spent most of her life learning how to walk, dress, dance and behave as a lady, and more importantly, how to overcome her nasty habit of pretending she was more intelligent than the men she encountered ("such an unhealthy habit… we need to cover it by concentrating on your beauty, child").

It wasn't until Rowena was fifteen that she had found her opportunity to escape. She became an assistant at the local apothecary, quickly proving herself as more than capable of measuring ingredients and brewing potions. A few years later, her childhood friend, Helga, introduced her to Godric and Salazar, and from there her curiosity and need to prove her mother wrong increased, eventually resulting in the formation of a wizarding school.

Her mother had, through her connection to the other noble wizarding families in the realm, eventually tracked her down. She was, of course, furious at first, but soon settled when she had learnt that her daughter was in the company of the wealthy and pure, Godric Gryffindor. She promised to leave Rowena to herself—on the condition that she would marry the man before her twenty-third year. Now twenty-six, and practically an old maid, it was only a matter of time before her mother reappeared and forced her to produce some grandchildren.

"You know very well of my intentions to remain virtuous and independent." She glared down at Salazar, whipping off the sheet that had been covering his wounded body. "Besides, Helga will be back shortly".

Her glare did not last long, however, as she let out a small gasp of shock. Salazar's already dirty tunic was marred by a long streak of red blood, seeping through the yellowed material. A foul smell wafted up to her nose again and she braced herself to pull back the cloth on his abdomen.

"I told you this is not a woman's job! You shall faint before you are done."

She ignored his comments and slowly peeled the material off to reveal the damage. The wound was worse than she had thought as she discovered the cause of the odour. Surrounding the deep gash, small white and yellow pustules were beginning to surface.

"It is infected! How long have you been like this?"

"I told you, 'tis not that bad! 'Tis merely a scratch that I assure you I will avenge when I am able. If you would just allow me to cast a—"

"This wound cannot simply be charmed away! Be thankful that Helga had enough sense to come and get me; it looks like it has been tainted with poison. Now, how did you sustain such an injury?"

Salazar huffed again, choosing to not look at her. He began to speak before she interrupted.

"And do not dare to try and lie to me," she warned as she boldly lifted his chin with her finger, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"I—I—it wasn't my fault."

"It never is."

"Well, if you must blame someone, choose to focus on that cox co—, on your future husband."

"I do not see how this could be his fault when you are the one lying on a bed, drowning your sorrows in mead," she snipped, and dipping a piece of cloth into the bucket of water sitting on the floor, she pushed it into his wound in the pretext of wiping away the dried blood.

"Ouch! Be careful, madam! I am very tender."

Rowena smirked, clearly enjoying the control she had over him. "My apologies."

"As I was saying, it is all Godric's fault that I am here. How was I to know that he would turn my own sword against me?"

"Your sword?"

"Yes, my sword. It was in my right to engage one of his students in a duel, I did not know the craven would be so smart as to switch blades."

"Godric's students may be foolhardy, but they are certainly not cowards. I am quite amused that you think I do not know that you are the one known as a d'anvie." She smiled as she watched his cheeks turn pink.

Salazar was silent for a moment, his eyes closed in thought. Rowena continued to clean his chest as she waited patiently for him to continue his tale.

"Perhaps I should have reconsidered my choices of apprentices. That young Wood boy is quite the sly little wizard, even if his blood is stained. Nevertheless, I shall need to teach him a lesson for trying to make a fool out of me in front of my pupils."

"That does not explain why you have poison flowing through your veins."

"Does it not, my dear? I dipped my own practice blade in a poison prior to the lesson—obviously the little bast—boy, thought it clever to switch the blades before we began."

"Why in Merlin's name would you do that, Salazar? You could've severely injured the boy!"

"I needed to demonstrate to my students how Purebloods should be shown respect," he said as he nodded to himself, as though he needed convincing that he was right.

"By cheating and killing off another student in a Muggle duel?"

"Do not compare what we do to those filthy humans!"

Rowena flinched as his voice rose.

He slapped her hand away from his stomach and twisted around, searching for his goblet. When he did not find what he was looking for, he cursed, no longer caring that she was present.

Rowena took a step back, surveying his shaking form and blood shot eyes. A light sheen of sweat was forming on his brow, effectively plastering his raven hair to his forehead and neck. He no longer looked like the gallant knight she had grown accustomed to; his face was ghostly white, a stark contrast to the black goatee upon his chin that had once made him appear the object of every maiden's affection.

She moved to sit at the small stool by the bed, cautiously dragging it backwards so that she could sit out of his reach.

"Nevertheless, that does not explain why you are intent on blaming Godric for this mess."

He shot a steely glare at her before he noticed her distance. Sighing sharply, he replied, "You are too lenient for your own good. You may be the wisest lady I will ever know on this earth, yet you do not understand the affairs of men."

"You make to compliment me, yet finish with an insult. No, I think it is you who does not understand the thoughts of a lady," Rowena countered, finally weary of his chauvinistic attitude.

"You very well know that I acknowledge that your ability to think can surpass a man's, let alone that your womanly figure is the envy of women all around. Oh, don't deny it; I see the way Godric parades you around on his arm in front of company, hoping to elicit a reaction from jealous fools. I am simply trying to tell you that men do not fight only with their swords—I can guarantee that Godric put his student up to that little switching scheme."

"Be that as it may, you are equally to blame for getting yourself into this mess and now I am left to help you once more." She shifted uncomfortably, reprimanding herself for blushing slightly at his comment.

"I never asked you to stay. In fact, send for a house elf and go about your worship of the brute," Salazar waved his hand at her dismissively as he closed his eyes.

Rowena's eyes narrowed at his suggestion that she was eager to serve Godric as any other lady would.

"Perhaps I will leave you to wallow in your self-pity. If it was not so unbecoming of a lady, I would place a bet that your ridiculous jealousy kills you before the poison does." And so saying, she stood up, catching the stool before it fell to the ground at her sudden ascent.

"You dare think I am jealous of him?" His eyes flew open as he struggled to sit up again; "I am nothing like him!" His cheeks grew rosy as more sweat formed on his forehead whilst he continued, "and I would never wish to change that. The very fact that you bring it up tells me that perhaps I was wrong and that he is the man for you! Go on, out of my sight! Be gone!"

Salazar was getting worked up; the combined effects of the alcohol and poison finally taking effect. Rowena watched in horror as his body began to shake uncontrollably. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed the cloth and dipped it quickly into the bucket. Squeezing tightly to remove the excess liquid, she thrust the material onto his forehead.

"Be gone-"

"Shh. You need to calm down."

"Go-"

"Just calm yourself. Your head feels as though it is on fire."

"I don't… I can't-"

"Shh."

"I can't have you here-"

"Shh."

"Just let me be."

After several moments, Rowena felt Salazar calm under her touch. His breathing slowed down considerably, as did the shaking.

"I can't have you help me," he rasped, looking at her through watery dark grey eyes.

"I am more than qualified to look after you. Be still."

"It hurts too much."

"I know."

"No, you don't. I-" Salazar took a shuddering breath before grasping her free hand in his, "I need you to stay away. Go to Godric."

Rowena sighed, pulling her hand from his, "I have told you, I make my own decisions."

She sat back, placing the cloth back into the bucket in case she needed to use it again. An uncomfortable feeling welled in her stomach as she surveyed him. His eyes were still bloodshot, and now had the addition of water welling up inside them. She leaned closer to sweep a lock of hair away from them, holding her breath as she did so.

The tension in the air was palpable and he stilled at her touch. "Please, I can't-"

"Hush." As she put a finger to his lips, they curved into a soft smile.

With an effort, he leaned close to her, reaching up and gliding a finger down her soft cheek. She shivered, leaning in further.

"I could not find the syrup of hellebore, I thought we had some from the markets but I did find- Oh, my humblest apologies." Helga had entered the room carrying a few hemp bags, not realising that Rowena and Salazar had been alone.

Rowena moved back quickly, fishing the cloth out of the bucket just as another voice interrupted the scene.

"Leave that, I think Helga can take it from here." Godric stood against the door, a look of fury etched into his fine features. Rowena went to protest as Helga's cheeks turned pink, but stopped as Godric addressed Salazar, "You look much better, I don't think you need help. At least, not for your wounds."

Salazar's face clouded as he flicked his thumb under his front teeth in his direction- an insult causing Godric to emit a low growl. Thinking quickly, Rowena walked towards the door. Placing the cloth gently into Helga's hand and smiling apologetically, she grasped Godric by both forearms.

"Come, Godric, shall we take a walk?" She tried to steer him out the door, but he was too strong.

"Not until I curse this roguish, lichieres pautonniere into the next era!"

"I may be weak, but I am no bricon. Let us sort this now." Salazar made to stand up, but fell back against the lumpy mattress.

"Stop, please, let us just go outside and enjoy the day. He is clearly in no condition to duel; you know you can best him."

"Of course I know that," Godric scoffed, finally looking down at Rowena, "why, didn't he tell you about our morning?"

Rowena felt herself growing angry at the way he spoke, and took another deep breath before replying, "Why yes, he did. I do not care for your participation in what happened, either. You should have removed the tainted sword from play, and not allowed your student to strike him so."

Godric stepped back in surprise and gave a short bark of laughter. "My student did not cause that injury. He may have been besting this foul creature, but in no way would he be dishonourable enough to use a poisoned sword! No, milady, I suppose Salazar here did not tell you the entire truth. That slippery serpent knew that he would lose to my student and so swiped himself with the blade. He knew being injured would get him the attention he wanted."

Tears brimmed at the edge of her eyes as she shook her head. She turned towards Salazar, hoping he would deny the story.

When he simply shrugged his shoulders with a, "Ladies love doting on me," and continued glaring at Godric, she walked to the bucket and lifting it, tipped its cold contents over the bed.

Helga gasped as she ran forward, unsure whether she should dry off Salazar or console Rowena. The decision was made for her, however, as the latter stormed out the door, pushing past a laughing Godric.

Godric left the room, making the same rude gesture he had received from Salazar earlier. When he was gone, Helga used a drying spell on Salazar.

"Why did you lie?" she spoke quietly, placing the cloth back into the now- empty bucket.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why did you allow Godric to accuse you that way?"

"He was right, I did inflict this wound. I wasn't about to let some hedge-born brute best me in a duel in front of my students." He looked at her questioningly, daring her to challenge him.

His eyes widened when she did. "I know that, but why did you lie and say that it was in your plan to gain the attention of the ladies?"

"I-"

"I may be quiet, Salazar, but I do pick up on a few things. I know that you think the world of Lady Rowena and would not treat her as some puterelle. So why did you not tell her so?"

"I don't, I-" he faltered under her uncharacteristically fierce glare as he whispered, "because she is destined for better things. She is virtuous and independent. And she is smart enough to know that all men are fools," he grunted, closing his eyes as Helga began filling a cauldron with ingredients.