Summary: Short ficlet I made, with a graphic. "Just tending my roses, Helga. However, they aren’t the right … color.”
“What are you doing, Sal?”
His lip twitched. She was the only one with the privilege of using that nickname.
“Just tending to my roses, Helga. However, they aren’t the right . . . color.”
Helga laughed. There was no one on the Hogwarts grounds who knew plants better than she did. She reached out to touch the scarlet petals, searching for any sign of unhealthiness. “What do you mean?”
“Red is so . . . ” he paused. “Wild. Uncontrollable.”
“Hot and unthinking,” she finished solemnly. Both of their minds turned to Godric Gryffindor, still wounded from his latest duel.
Salazar studied her, his gaze calculating. He waved his hands and the petals shimmered and sparkled. Moments later, the blood red had changed to a shade of bright gold.
“Yellow is . . . joyful,” he murmured. His long white fingers ghosted over hers. “Warm. Happy.”