To be entirely honest— Gunnarr had arranged to meet someone under the mistletoe. It wasn’t a particularly romantic exchange that had led him here. More a small game of cat and mouse. The problem was...there was more mistletoes than he accounted for, and as he stood waiting under one, none other than one Godric Gryffindor slid in beside him. Raising a brow of amusement, Gunnarr didn’t hesitated to address the man. “Master Gryffindor, how...interesting to meet you here.”
All night, Eleonora had been trying to avoid a particular student of her’s that was far too often sitting in the front row of her Transfiguration classes, and lingering far too long after each of them. It seemed that...the man in question had fallen a little prey to having a little crush on teacher, and Eleonora was doing her best to treat it delicately. But he’d finally caught sight of her, and as he beelined across the hall just as the band started a lovely waltz, Eleonora fled to the nearest safe haven she could spot. Godric.
In a moment she was tugging the oversized man by the sleeve towards where couples were dancing. “Alright Godric, time to dance. Let’s get going,” she said a little hastily, moving away from the student in question.
Some seven years ago, a lovely ride in the countryside has a smashing ending
parties: @grydric | @eleonoraxaltieri
trigger warnings: blood, serious injury, death
Godric quite liked the countryside of Hungary, not because it was more beautiful than any other place in Europe or because their task was more interesting. No, he liked the countryside because Clara hadn’t stopped smiling since they began their trip. “Aren’t your cheeks tired, love?” He asked, grinning at his wife.
She rolled her eyes at him, though she was obviously very amused, she attempted to stifle her smile. “Is that better, darling? Your wife is now frowning because you.”
Godric let out a loud laugh,“How shall I ever make it up to you, Lara?”
“By calling me by my full name and never speaking to me again. This is it, sir, there is nothing you can do to fix this now.”
“I must be off then! I have to find a new wife, now that my current one has rejected me,” Godric declared, rather dramatically, as he urged his horse into a canter to race away from Clara.
“Godric! Come back here!” She laughed as she urged her own horse after him.
It was a rather small village, nestled into the countryside in practically the middle of nowhere. And yet somehow Eleonora had heard that they were suffering. Some sickness had gone through far too many already by the time she’d arrived. But she hadn’t hesitated to roll up her sleeves and get to work, and now… the village was finally on the mend. Which meant she would be leaving soon. She’d just gotten word of another settlement in Croatia that was undergoing disease. It was always a little sad, to leave the places she’d healed before truly getting to see them flourish once more. Eleonora didn’t mind, though. So was the way of her work. A murmuring began to fall over the little crowd though as the sound of hooves coming down the road caught their attention. Who would be visiting their humble little abode? And who would be in such a hurry to get there?
Godric could hear Clara’s laughter as they raced towards the village and though he could not see her, he could imagine what she looked like. Her hair flowing behind her, looking as free as a bird. He began to slow down his own horse, Whiskey, as they neared the village. There was a moment of peace, of silence, before he heard it. He had heard horses getting spooked before, but the screams that came from his wife, he had never heard those. His blood ran cold as he heard her land. Without thinking of his own safety, he stopped his horse short and was on the ground in seconds. Clara was broken. She didn’t look right. For a moment Godric couldn’t move, couldn’t think, he just stared at his lovely wife, who struggled to breath. Crouching next to her, he began to yell,“Help! Help!” He could only hope the village could hear his broken yells.
Eleonora heard the scream pierce through the village. It was unmistakable, and one she’d heard far too many a time in her days as a Healer. The sound of someone mortally wounded. It raised goosebumps on the skin, but more than anything it made Eleonora bolt in the direction of the sound, and she soon realized it had come from the two riders coming into town. A crowd was already beginning to gather, but she tried to push them aside, wrestling her way through them with little regard. “Move! Get out of my way!” she demanded fiercely, throwing a few sharp elbows and the like when people didn’t move fast enough. Once the villagers realized who it was that was trying to get through them they parted to let her through. At last free of the crowd, she shifted into the form of a fox with her wand in her mouth, letting it’s faster strides carry her to the scene as quickly as possible. Finally, she reached the pair, and she was shifting back in the blink of an eye, waving her wand over the broken woman to determine what was wrong. “What happened?” she demanded of the man that knelt beside her, not sparing him a glance.
Clara was trying to speak, her chest heaving as she tried to. Godric watched as her eyes flooded over with tears, heard her as she wheezed, felt her hand squeezing his. Pulling his wand out with his left hand, he tried to cast a healing spell. His hand was shaking so hard, the spell failed. His lips pressed as tried to regulate his breathing as he began to panic. His own eyes started to tear up as he realized he was freezing in the one moment his wife needed him the most. He looked over at the woman and couldn’t speak for a second, his jaw working but no sound coming out. “The horse…” He trailed off as his voice failed him.
The poor man. It hurt Eleonora’s heart to see how beside himself he clearly was, but she didn’t have any time to spare him pity right now. The woman was her focus as she finished assessing what it was that was wrong with her, and categorically figured out what it was that need the most attention— what was most life threatening. What she knew at the end of her prioritizing was...it didn’t look good. But Eleonora refused to accept such a thing as fact and began her work, first trying to heal the broken bits of the woman’s skull, trying to salvage her head and her brain. But there was also the punctured lung. It wouldn’t matter if she saved the head if the woman couldn’t breathe. Eleonora only had so many hands. She grabbed the other man’s hand and pointed it directly over the lung in question, hoping he might be able to do something to help. “Here. Do it here,” she commanded. “Focus. You need to do this.”
Clara’s eyes were drooping, but Godric couldn’t imagine that she was dying. No, his wife was the strongest woman he had ever known, she wouldn’t just die. He kept his eyes on her’s, trying to avoid looking at the puddle of blood forming under her head or the side of her face that was… Distinctly not like that before she was thrown. He glanced down as his hand was moved and he nodded. He could do this, he had to do this. He was one of the most one of the most brilliant wizards in all of Europe. He could save his wife. He had to take a moment to settle his breathing, to force the fear and the desperation away into the deep part of his mind he had hid them during battles. If there was anything he was good at it, it was compartmentalizing trauma. He followed her instructions as well as he could, his hand shaking still, though far less than it had been before.
As Eleonora worked on the woman’s skull, her jaw clenched as it became apparent that...the state of the woman was even worse that she’d initially thought. And though she refused to admit defeat as the woman grew weaker and weaker, she knew that there was at least one thing she could guarantee. Eleonora quickly performed a few spells that patched the woman together enough for one simple thing. “If there’s anything...you’d want to say to her. You should say it now,” she tried to say as gently as she could. “I can at least give the two of you some...words together.” She refused to say last words. Eleonora wouldn’t accept death until the woman had stopped breathing. A moment later she’d managed to fix the woman enough to where she’d be able to at least speak in what were most likely her last moments, but worked on fervently.
He looked up suddenly at the woman words. She didn’t have to say them out loud, but Godric understood loud and clear what she meant. There was no saving Clara. His wife, the light of his life and there was no bloody saving her. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t now. He couldn’t let out that yell trapped in his throat, no, he had to be there for her. He had to lead her out as gracefully as she could go. His hands started to shake even harder as he brushed his fingers across her cheek. “My darling, you are my entire world,” He whispered, his voice soft and thick. “Our… Our time here is not where things end. We… We will find each again.” Her hand slowly, painstakingly slowly, moved to go over his. “I… Love you… Godric. Remember… That,” She told him between wheezes. “I walk with you,” She whispered, but her eyes began to droop and Godric knew that she didn’t have much time.
“Clara, do you remember that field? The one with all those wildflowers?” There was a weak, “Yes,” that tumbled from his wife. The field he had told her he loved her,“We are in that field right now.” His voice shook, but he had to get through this, she would be leaving this world with a good memory. “I’ve placed that purple flower you love behind your ear, it tickles just a little bit. It’s sunny and there’s a breeze, but it’s perfect. You’re glowing and you are perhaps the most beautiful I have ever seen you,” His voice cracked as the tears began to poor down his face, but he had to keep going. “We lay down, the grass and flowers between our fingers and it’s warm. You’re tired, it’s been a long day and the sun is like a blanket. It’s okay to go to sleep, love. Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake. I love you, Clara Gryffindor.”
Eleonora should be used to it by now— watching people lose their loved ones. But, in truth, it never got easier. She’d simply learned how to control her sympathy, and be the steady Healer that could provide support. But the man and his wife...she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen such love in a goodbye before, and the way he’d made sure her last moments were only beauty...it was more than enough to call a few tears to her eyes, though she ignored them in favor of making sure the woman’s passing was as painless as possible. It was only a few moments after Godric told her that he loved her that Clara shut her eyes for the last time, her soul departing for...whatever lay beyond. She was gone. Her light having left, Eleonora took the moment to dry her eyes before raising them to the man across from her. Godric. That’s what Clara had called him. Reaching out, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, managing to say, “Godric...I’m so sorry.”
Clara’s hand slipped from his soon and Godric felt empty. He hunched over her body, his shoulders shaking and he was cold. Every piece of good in the world seemed fall away. He said nothing to the woman before him, just looked at his still wife, his tears falling on to her dress at a steady rate. After a long stretch of silence, he spoke, “How will I get her home?” She wanted to be buried by her parents when she died. Though, he wasn’t sure how he was going to tell her parents that they would be burying her first. They had planned for her to go far, far into the future.
Eleonora simply sat by him silently, knowing that grief such as this was…truly inconsolable. It had to take its own time, and its own path. Still, the man’s grief was poignant, and her heart began to ache familiarly in her chest for what he was going through, and the sheer devastation that was rocking him. She went to reach for his hand to take it and give it a gentle pat once before saying. “Don’t worry about that. I can help.” By now, she’d done more than her fair share of preserving bodies for people. “We’ll get her home, alright?” her words were soft and kind. Eleonora would be sure to help clean her up as well, to make sure she looked as perfect as could be so Godric wouldn’t have to keep staring at the crushed and bloody face of his love.
“Our home is in England,” They both knew that the journey was long and he was rather sure that Clara would not make it so far with one spell. Godric had never used the magic himself nor had he done research on it, but it didn’t seem like something someone could do. Though, he wasn’t sure of much at the moment. He couldn’t think of much other than how small and broken his wife looked. Gently he moved his hand to the top of Clara’s head and picked a hairpin from it. It was one he had made himself, modeled after that purple flower.
“I’ll get her there, I promise,” Eleonora said before putting a careful hand on Godric’s arm. She didn’t want to rush him, but she also didn’t want to intrude on his last private moments with his wife. “If you’d like— I could come back in a little bit when you’re ready?” If anyone tried to bother him, she’d have no problem forcefully steering them away. Eleonora bit her lower lip as he took the hair pin, wishing she could offer him more. It was times like these that she simply felt useless.
Godric looked up at her for a moment, trying to process what she said before nodding. Would he ever be ready? “Can… Can you take away some of the blood first?” He couldn’t sit with her when she was surrounded by her spilled lifeblood. He just wanted to take a moment or two to fix her hair and say goodbye when she couldn’t see how devastated he was. Suddenly his hand went to his mouth as he tried to stifle the broken sob that came from him. “She’s gone. My Clara, she’s gone.”
“Of course, of course,” Eleonora said without hesitating. To be honest, it was basically like healing just...the person was no longer alive. “I don’t know if you want to...watch,” she told him carefully. It could be disconcerting for some to see their departed loved ones go back to new before their very eyes, to watch them come back together and be reformed. “Would you like- are you religious? I could say a prayer, if you’d like?” It was all she could think to give him. But then he was crying. His grief was otherworldly in a way that was painful to watch. She’d seen plenty of people die, countless people grieve, but the way this man was so thoroughly torn...it made her heart feel like crying along with him. Eleonora couldn’t stop herself from reaching forwards to put a comforting arm around him, needing to give him something. “I know, I know,” she said softly, soothingly. “You gave her such a beautiful memory to send her off. I’m sure you have many more beautiful memories. Am I right in thinking so?”
“Can’t be worse than watching her die, can it?” Godric asked numbly, looking at Eleonora, his body shaking. It was crashing into him suddenly that he was going to have to tell everyone that Clara had died. He was going to tell her mother that her only daughter had died under his watch. He couldn’t protect her. He nodded again, unable to say that Clara would have liked a prayer. “I’ve loved her since we were fourteen. Most of my memories are with her,” He said weakly, his voice thick as he tried to stop from sobbing again, even as he slumped against Eleonora.
She gave him a sympathetic look, not particularly having an answer. “Look away if it becomes...too much.” Eleonora didn’t want this man to go through any more than he already had. Then a moment later she began the process of putting Clara back together, healing all the bits she was very able to heal, just hadn’t had the time to. As she worked the frustration only settled into her more. If only she’d had more people. Eleonora had never been good at losing...especially when it came to lives. But as she worked she said a quiet prayer, one that was filled with promises of the Heaven that lay beyond, and the joy of being reunited one day. She spared another glance towards the broken man, her gaze still gentle. “Then you still have her. She’s not entirely gone.” A careful hand went to his temple, barely ghosting over it. “You have her here…” The hand lowered to rest on his heart for a quick moment. “And you have her here.” It then went to his back to move in soothing circles.
Godric kept his eyes on his wife the entire time Eleonora put her back together. He had to see how much damage his little game of racing had caused. He had to know how much guilt to carry in his chest. He appreciated the prayer, even though he couldn’t really understand what she had said truly. “She, she, she’s still here,” He repeated, though it was clear the longer he sat there, the least coherent he was becoming. The shaking, which had already been bad, was surely getting worse.
Finally, Clara was perfect once more. There was no sign of her having gone through any sort of trauma, apart from the fact that she drew no breath. “Exactly, that’s right,” Eleonora affirmed, encouraging his words. Now that she was done healing Clara, her eyes were drawn to his hands where she could see just how badly he was shaking. Grief was overpowering, but she didn’t want Godric to be any worse than he already was. In addition, the village people were beginning to come up the road, seeing that the bulk of everything had passed. One of the smaller children was the first to reach them, and asked with all the curiosity and innocence of a child. “Is she okay?” Eleonora quickly shushed the child gently before saying. “Listen, Alice— would you be so good as to go fetch a blanket for Mister Gryffindor? We can talk later, alright?” The little girl scampered off to do so, but there were still people coming down the path. Standing slowly, Eleonora tried to coax Godric into rising as well. “Come on, Godric. Let’s go get you rest a little, yeah?”
It took Godric a moment to understand that Eleonora was talking to him. He looked up at Eleonora and then back to Clara. “I… I can’t leave her,” He whispered. He knew that his wife’s soul wasn’t in her body anymore, but it was still her. He couldn’t leave her on the side the road like this. He knew that he had his downfalls as a husband, but he, at least, would never abandon her. “I have to stay with her.” He couldn’t help but think that perhaps, somehow, if he waited long enough, she would come back to him. She would be whole again and it would have just been a horrible experience, but she would be okay.
“Of course we won’t leave her,” Eleonora consoled softly. Gosh, he was actually rather large wasn’t he? She was beginning to realize that as she gave another seemingly futile gentle pull on his arm to try and help him stand. There was no way she was going to be able to support all his weight if he wouldn’t walk. Nevertheless, she’d been planning to float Clara along with them, and gave a little wave of her wand to do just that. “We’ll take her with us, alright? But you’ve got to stand now,” she offered in her firm, but caring voice. People so deeply in grief often needed direction, a little helping hand that made sure they still took care of themselves and carried on.
Clara started to float next to him and for a moment Godric thought she was just going to float away into the sky. He wasn’t sure what he would do if that were to happen, but thankfully his wife’s body just calmly stayed floating next to him. It took a moment, and two attempts, for him to get onto his feet. He looked towards Eleonora for directions, not quite sure what to do now that he was on his feet.
“That’s it, you’ve got it,” Eleonora encouraged as he rose, but stumbled a couple of times. “Good job, perfect.” They’d need a coffin. Clara’s body couldn’t just continuously be out in the open next to her heartbroken husband. Though Eleonora wouldn’t call it a stroke of luck, the town did have quite a few coffins still— leftover from the sickness that had worked its way through the village. “Alright, here we go,” she said before taking the steps towards the little room she’d been staying in. Eleonora would get him settled there. As they moved, the body of Clara came after them, and it seemed that...not even death could truly do them part.
Eleonora had struck a bit of a deal with the house elves, and they now often allowed her to use the kitchens when she asked. Tonight— she’d been planning on cooking some more food for Salazar, still not satisfied by how tired he looked, as well as how often he forgot to eat. But as she neared the entrance of the kitchen, she was instead met with one Godric Gryffindor. Though he wasn’t alone. The oversized man was accompanied by a plate of what looked to be Helga’s stolen cookies, with one in his hand and...were there four in his mouth? Almost instantly, an all too amused grin sparked on Eleonora’s lips, though she tried her best to look stern, as if she’d caught him in the middle of doing something he shouldn't. But it wasn’t the best poker face. “Godric,” she started, trying not to laugh. “Should I tell someone to get down here to deduct house points from you for stealing?”
