Salazar Slytherin stood by the window of his study, his eyes fixed on the stormy horizon. Rain pelted against the glass, mirroring the turmoil within his heart. For years, it had always been Godric and him, his best friend who was like a brother to him. Together, they discussed grand plans of building the greatest school the wizarding world had ever seen and clinked glasses to that dream.

But then you happened—a vile Muggle-born witch that Godric almost seemed enamored by. Salazar had initially brushed you off as someone Godric would flirt with, bed, and be done with, like all the women in the past, yet you lingered. You became a constant presence, a thorn in his side, an irritant he couldn't ignore. He didn't like that, but what sickened him the most was the burning jealousy that intertwined with his disdain every time you fluttered your pretty eyelashes at Godric. The idea of you made his skin crawl, and yet he had eyes for no other witch but you.

He remembered the first time he saw you, your laughter ringing out as you conversed with Godric. He had felt an inexplicable pang in his chest, a mix of anger and something else he refused to name. From that moment, his disdain for you grew, fueled by the jealousy he couldn't suppress. It ate him up that he felt anything other than pure loathing for someone who had Muggle blood running in their veins.

Tonight, as the storm raged outside, he couldn't shake the thought of you. He could sense you stepping into the room, the patter of your footsteps all too familiar. "If you are looking for Godric, then he isn't here, Mudblood," Salazar said, his words sharp and intense as his eyes bore into you, filled with loathing and something more.