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Secretly, though she won’t admit it to anyone else, spring is Hecate Hardbroom’s favorite time of year. It’s excellent for the harvesting and planting of essential potions ingredients to be sure, but that alone is something she would freely admit. No, her reasons are rather more subjective. Personal. Romantic.
She sniffs at the thought, but bends down in the dewey grass to brush her fingers against the tightly grouped flowers of a blue muscari bloom. The blossoms are cool and damp against the tips of her fingers and she feels a rush of satisfaction at the feeling.
Life is new in the spring. Brave and resilient and beautiful in a way that makes no sense to Hecate most days. Flowers must bloom to produce pollen. Pollen then spreads and propagates crops for food, and potions, and the inevitable cycle of life. There is no reason for something functional to be so beautiful.
But it is.
And it makes her heart trip over itself each and every time.
Leaning in over a hyacinth she inhales, letting her eyes flutter shut at the scent. It’s dusky, sweet, but there’s something darker, something witchy, about the bloom. She buries her face further in the deep purple buds and very nearly feels content. Very nearly.
Because it’s silly, she’s thinks. To get so worked up about flowers. She’s being a silly, foolish witch. But then, The Code does decree that a good witch should revel in nature. Should honor it. Protect it.
It doesn't mean she needs to go and get all emotional over the way the snowdrops push up their pale, white heads every spring. Or how they’re shaped so perfectly, so pleasingly. Or over the way the golden heads of the newly bloomed daffodils glimmer and glow as they sway in the slanted late afternoon sunlight.
She was supposed to be out here collecting snail shells for the fourth year midterm exams. Not mooning over perennials like like a love sick school girl.
Still, she admits, it charms her. The pure, elemental magic of spring’s beauty. Perhaps she’ll return tomorrow morning, when rosey mist covers the garden and there’s nary a soul awake to catch her clipping a stock of hyacinth to take back with her to her own chambers to place in a vial upon her nightstand. No soul to witness her private delight in the heady, sylvan scent.
Yes, she thinks, straightening and brushing her fingers together to feel the way the dew spreads between them like fairy water. Perhaps.
It’s nearly dinner and she hasn’t collected a single shell, but she can’t seem to find it within herself to mind. Not when the crocus blooms look up at her so hopefully, not when she can just send Esmerelda Hallow and her peers down after lunch tomorrow to do it instead. It will be good for them, she decides, to experience the brewing of a potion they have sourced start to finish.
She breathes in last one last breath of the cool, clear air. Lets her eyes rove over the colorful blooms that spread out around her feet once more, before turning on the spot and winking out of the dappled sunlight of the garden and into the dappled sunlight of the dining hall.
The din that greets her makes her wince. So much for the peaceful calm that had risen within her with each passing moment spent in private amongst nature. She’s halfway to the teacher’s table when she’s waylaid by an apprehensive looking third year.
“Miss Cackle is looking for you, Miss Hardbroom. She said to meet her in her office as soon as possible.” Hecate feels her shoulder blades rise higher on her back, like a cat arching with suspicion, and the third year girl cowes under her gaze and scurries off to join her friends.
Sighing, Hecate transfers once more and lands neatly outside Ada’s door, knocking crisply and entering when bidden. Ada is pacing by the fire and gestures for her to join her.
“Hecate, come in. Best if you take a seat.”
“I hope it’s not more trouble with the council, Ada. This nonsense has gone on long enough. I rather thought the matter settled -”
Ada pauses and looks up, surprised. “No. I’m rather afraid it’s worse.”
“Worse.”
The chair closest to her slides towards her of its own accord, or rather, Ada’s. “A seat, Hecate.”
But she remains standing, stares at Ada until Ada settles in her own armchair. Even then she does not move.
“I’m afraid some news has come from Pentangle’s.”
A single word tangles on her tongue, dread tightening in her stomach. “Pippa.”
Ada nods once again at the chair and at last Hecate sinks into it. “This won’t be easy for you to hear, Hecate. But it seems that they were hit with a bad bought of Witches Fever.”
“I should think that’s hardly worth mentioning, it’s a fairly common infection in children of that age. We should just hope it doesn’t grace us here at Cackle’s. Ada, the girls cannot afford to miss class, they’re far enough behind as it is -”
But Ada is shaking her head, eyes rather shiny as she leans forward in her chair and takes Hecate’s hand in her own. Her skin is warm and papery and Hecate's stomach tightens as the unfamiliar contact reveals something much deeper is amiss.
“The girls will recover, Hecate.”
“What then?” She suddenly feels like she can’t breath. “Pippa?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But it’s a childhood ailment hardly worse than the flu - it’s very, very rare in adults - in adults it’s -”
“Deadly.” Ada finishes softly. “Or very nearly always is. Hecate, I’m sorry. She was taken ill this morning, they only just sent word -”
Hecate pulls her hand away and is on her feet an instant later.
“I must - Ada, I -”
Their eyes meet and Ada smiles sadly.
“I know. Go.”
Hecate turns on a heel and clenches a fist, spins and spins across the miles between Cackle’s and Pentangle’s. She doesn't know how she knows the path, only thrusts out her magic and focuses on Pippa. Pinpoints the place she can sense Pippa must exist in the material world, the mortal world, and pushes magic through the place Pippa has within her own heart. Forces the spell until she simply knows where to direct it.
She lands hard on the stone right outside what must be Pippa’s chambers, shaking as her lungs fight to expand and her cells busy to reacquaint themselves with matter. With fear. Swaying slightly, she rests a palm against the stone casing around the door, collecting her bearings until the floor stops tilting under her feet and she is able to raise a trembling fist and knock.
The sound echos solidly into the room beyond, masking her apprehension in a way that satisfies her. Though it becomes a harder task by far when the door is opens on a grim-faced medi-witch, grey hair frizzing from under her cap, and a deep furrow between her brows.
“Miss Pentangle cannot be permitted to have any visitors at this time.” The voice is curt and the door begins to shut before Hecate can push her heart from her throat and protest.
Instead she wedges a shoe between the door and the jam at the last moment and locks eyes with the woman who gapes at her in surprise when the door is stalled in its path. Eyes smarting a bit from pain, she stares the other woman down, chest heaving as her mind races to find the words to demand admittance. Or beg. She’s finds she wouldn’t be beyond it. Not now. Not when Pippa is -
“It’s alright, Madam Goodshrew,” comes a voice from within and suddenly a statuesque, dark haired woman is standing directly behind the medi-witch, slim fingers curling around the heavy door to prise it open and release Hecate’s foot. “Hecate is welcome here at any time. She has Miss Pentangle’s express permission, I can assure you.”
The medi-witch gives Hecate another once over but seems to accept it and turns to duck back into the depths of the chamber. The door swings open and the woman extends a hand.
“Avery Heartsong, Pippa’s Deputy Head. You must be Hecate.”
It’s an odd gesture, to take a proffered hand instead of exchanging a ‘Well Met.’ But Avery’s grip is firm and warm, and after giving her fingers a quick squeeze she pulls Hecate into the room and shuts the door, bolting it behind her. Still, Hecate cannot find her voice and stands mute, trying to ease her still labored breathing.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Avery’s voice is low, and she squeezes Hecate’s hand once more before releasing it, both their hands swinging down to idle at their sides.
“How is she?” She manages, wincing internally at the gravel in her voice as she steels herself for the answer.
Avery bites a lip and shrugs her shoulders up, blinking at the ceiling as her dark eyes go glassy.
“Not good. They lit the Candle maybe twenty minutes ago.”
“The Candle?”
Avery nods, and Hecate can tell she’s working very hard to mask her emotions. Well that makes two of us.
“But that would mean -”
“That she only has until the end of the night. Yeah.” A tear does fall then, and Avery brings the sleeve of her maroon dress up and drags it across her eyes, huffing a little.
“I’m sorry - you’ll be wanting to see her. It’s just through here -”
And as Avery escorts her, Hecate catches glimpses of the space as they pass, Pippa’s sitting room, and Pippa’s books, and Pippa’s life a blur around her. A life that Pippa had tried to include her in, had invited her to Pentangle’s time and time again, and Hecate, foolishly - so foolishly - had made every excuse to decline. Her reasons seem childish now, selfish and feeble in equal measure.
Grief rolls through her like a wave only to stutter into something else entirely as they move through the door doorway and Hecate’s eyes fall upon Pippa lying so still, so pale, upon the bed.
And the whole world falls away then, color, and sound, and motion, until Pippa is all she can see as her legs carrying her forward, eyes never leaving the way that Pippa’s chest rises and falls in shallow, too shallow, breaths.
She hardly knows she’s moving until her knees hit edge of the bed and she’s sinking down into the chair beside it, fingers coming up to rest on Pippa’s skin, gasping at how cold it is beneath her hand.
The world lurches back around her, as if returning from a transfer gone wrong. She stares down at Pippa’s face, takes in the sheen of sweat on her brow, heart twisting at how she looks so calm, so serene, almost peaceful.
Madam Goodshrew rummages through her bag of medical supplies until she produces a device and places it against Pippa’s forehead, peering down at the dials. She tuts at the reading and juts her chin out at Hecate as she refolds the equipment before addressing Avery. “She best have had the Fever before, you hear. Nobody knows why a grown witch falls to it, but best not to take any risks.”
“I’ve had it,” Hecate feels rather than hears her voice comes out flatly, eyes never straying from Pippa. Tries not to imagine how the fever licked and clawed at her as a child and how she’d cried for her mother, only to recover to find a Candle burning and her mother dead. She swallows. “Pippa had it as a child too.”
The medi-witch tuts again but her voice has less of an edge. “Well, like I said, nobody know why one falls to it.”
Pippa draws a ragged, wheezing breath and Hecate is out of her seat and out of the room before her mind can catch up. She doesn’t realize where she’s going until she finds herself sitting rigidly in one of Pippa’s chairs in the parlor, staring down at patterns on the rug below, hands clenched on her knees.
As if from a great distance she can see her mother, laying lifeless in the bed, sheets tangled around her pale limbs, sweat still damp in her ebony hair. The only light in the room a Candle glowing, not even halfway out. And Hecate hadn’t understood then. Had only wept and screamed at the sight of her mother, at what had once been her mother, as her father had gripped her arms like a vice and thrown her from the room, barring the door in her face. Separating her from her mother in a way that felt more final to her than what death just had wrought.
But it had been her fault, after all, hadn’t it? Bringing the Fever into their home to begin with. Requiring her mother to tend to her, all gentle hands and soft smiles until suddenly Hecate had been alone in her illness, desperate for her, calling for her in the night. And no one had come.
She doesn’t weep or scream now. Only sits and blankly traces the swirls on the carpet with her eyes as she tries to work out how she’s caused this to be Pippa’s fate as well. This senseless, senseless thing. A rarity. A mysterious ailment that kills without reason. And here, the only two women Hecate has ever loved, struck down by the same fate.
It takes some time before she realizes her name is being murmured, warm hands grasping her own fingers and uncurling them from fists clenched so hard her nails have nearly pierced her palms. She startles and comes back into herself to find Avery’s dark eyes capturing her own from where she kneels beside Hecate’s chair.
“Hecate?”
She blinks and flushes, trying to pull her hands back, but Avery hangs tight. “I meant what I said when I said I was glad you were here, but I also meant that Pippa is glad you are here. Before she went under, she asked for you. Nearly constantly.”
Hecate gapes at her and tries not to sag in her seat. Tries to hang on to whatever dignity she can muster. Avery’s fingers remain steady against her own and all she can do is stare. Stare at how beautiful Avery is with her sharp cheekbones and the way her dark dress compliments her dark skin. How she’s warm and full of grace in a way that Hecate is not. Has never been. How Pippa had mentioned Avery often and with affection, and how Hecate had bristled at the familiarity, at the mere thought of the women who got to spend so many hours by Pippa’s side.
“In fact, that’s just like Pippa. She talks about you all the time, really.” Avery continues, as if reading Hecate’s thoughts. “I’ve never seen Pippa as happy as she is after one of her visits to to see you. She won’t shut up. Honestly, I’ve wondered if I’d need to perform an an unauthorized silencing charm.” She wrinkles her nose a bit in fondness, smiling encouragingly up at her, and Hecate finds herself clinging to her words as if to a floatation device.
She’s never liked sharing Pippa. Has always bolted at the slightest inkling that there might be someone Pippa finds to be of more interest, more worthy of affection. But now she’s grateful to the point of near tears to be anchored by someone who cares about Pippa so much that she’s generous by extension to someone as awkward and surly as Hecate must seem. She lets out a breath.
“I think,” Avery says in a low voice, giving Hecate’s fingers another squeeze, “that Pippa is happiest when you’re by her side. And I think that there could be no greater incentive for her to fight this than to know that you’ll be here when she wakes up.”
When she wakes up. Not if. Hecate squeezes back before she can check herself. But Avery doesn’t seem to mind, simply stands and pulls Hecate by her hand for the second time that evening, tugging her up to join her.
They return to the room and Hecate settles back into the chair, scooting it further forward to be closer to Pippa, who looks unchanged as Hecate once more takes her hand.
Madam Goodshrew is busy taking Pippa’s pulse, counting the beats on a bronze timepiece. She releases Pippa’s wrist, pockets her watch and brushes her hands down over her apron. “I’m afraid that’s all there is to be done.” She looks from Avery to Hecate, and then back to Avery as though she’s a more trustworthy source to relay her information.
“Candle’s lit, it will keep the time just as it always does in cases like this. If burns down and goes out while she still draws breath, she’s made it through, no need to fear.” She sighs and looks down at Pippa’s still figure. “It’s a bad case though, I wouldn’t trust to hope. Still, I hear Pentangle is known to be a fighter when it suits her.”
“She is.” There’s something in Avery’s voice that makes Hecate’s heart beat increase and she squeezes Pippa’s hand more tightly, training her gaze back on her face.
She waits until Avery turns to walk the medi-witch out before bringing Pippa’s hand up to cradle between her own, resting her forehead against the chill of Pippa’s knuckles.
Pipsqueak .
Her mind feels very far outside of herself, as if she knows she should be screaming, crying, pleading, begging for Pippa’s life, but she only feels the steady beat of fear beneath her heart, all consuming to the point of near numbness. She lowers Pippa’s hand as she hears Avery close the door in the outer chamber and straightens herself, fingers moving to brush a stray hair behind Pippa’s ear before her movement can be caught out.
When Avery returns it’s with a wan smile and a cup of tea, which she hands to Hecate before moving around to the otherside of the bed. She sips gratefully, but her stomach contracts and she lays it on the bedside table, breathing through her nose to tamp down the tangy fear that rises within her.
Avery settles on the far side of the bed, bringing her knees up and taking Pippa’s other hand, and Hecate once again feels an unfamiliar gratitude, perhaps even shy affection, to be united for the first time in mutual concern for Pippa with someone who doesn’t believe that Pippa’s best interests involve Hecate keeping her distance.
“She was so attentive to the students when the Fever went around earlier in this week.” She shifts on the bed and Hecate can’t help but study her. Notes the circles under her eyes for the first time. “Spent all her time in the infirmary, wouldn’t leave their sides, not even to eat to sleep. Hardly slept at all in fact.”
“Neither have you by the looks of it.” Theirs eyes meet before Avery shrugs and blinks, rubbing a hand over her eyes tiredly.
“I’m trying to keep this quiet. The students, they know she’s taken ill, I don’t want to hide it from them. But they’re young, they don’t know the severity. I -” Her voice is steady, but Hecate knows a front when she sees one. Avery squares she shoulders and takes a breath. “There’s a school to run. Children that need guidance during this difficult time and -” She looks down at Pippa sadly on the bed.
“There are still a number of students still in the infirmary. They’ll recover just fine, but you know the nightmares that come with this illness and - being so far away from home and their families - Pippa and I didn’t want to leave them alone. And there’s still a number of parents to be given updates - we’ve been trying to check in three times a day with parents of ill students and once a day for those who haven’t caught it, just to reassure.” Avery sags a bit and looks over at Hecate.
“I don’t want to leave her,” she whispers, “but I know she’d want me to carry on. Do what needs doing.”
Hecate’s heart contracts in sympathy. She can’t help but find her voice. “Pippa’s spoken of you a great deal as wel, Miss Heartsong. She trusts you implicitly with the wellbeing of the students in her stead.”
Avery looks reassured and ducks her head into a determined nod before moving closer to Pippa to look down into her face. “I won’t let you down, Pip. I promise. And I won’t be far. So you fight, you hear? You didn’t defy the magical community and build a school from scratch so that every student had a place to reach their best potential just to let this get you down. I know you, Pip. I know you’re in there fighting. We’re out here fighting for you too. You’re not going to be alone.”
She looks up at Hecate and neither of them can mask the sheen in their eyes. They hold each others gaze for a moment until Hecate looks away, blinking rapidly to hide the tear that streaks down her cheek.
It’s not until she feels a hand on her shoulder that she looks up to Avery standing beside, her eyes suddenly locked onto Hecate’s once more.
“I’ve know Pippa a long, long time, Hecate. She’s my best friend. I would never want to betray her confidences, but she’s never had to say it to me for me to know it’s true: she loves you. She loves you so much. I don’t know if you know how much. But I think she’d want you to know it now.”
Hecate’s throat closes up with emotion and it’s all she can do to nod, grief mounting as Avery’s words sink in. She loves you. She loves you so much.
And now she’s dying.
Avery sniffs and swipes once more at her damp eyes before turning and leaning in to press a kiss to Pippa’s pale forehead. “You hang in there, Pip. Hecate’s right here. She’s here now. It’s going to be alright.”
Drawing back Avery gives Hecate a watery half smile. “If there’s any change or -” she swallows and the words seem to stick in her throat. “You’ll summon me if -”
“I will.”
One final nod and last look at Pippa, and she turns on her heel and winks out.
______
Alone for the first time with Pippa, she looks down and studies the cold hand in her own - the gloss of the pale pink nail polish, the delicate way the skin pulls over her knuckles. She wills herself not to cry. Pipsqueak.
She can feel the moments tick by, feel the way her own blood pulses under her skin, the thud of her heart, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
The numbness is fading into pain, into horror, and she looks up to see that the Candle has hardly burned down at all, the flame steady and bright and terrifying. She focuses on Pippa again, watches for each breath, watches how her eyelashes rest just so against her cheeks, as if she’s merely sleeping. The calm before the storm.
Guilt and grief war within her all at once and she shudders as the weight of realization finally sinks in. Pippa could die tonight. And she’d never know the truth of it all. Never know -
Hecate can hardly wrap her mind around the words.
I love her.
It’s why she’s done it all. Abandoned Pippa time and time again. Left her by a lake on a sunny day. Left her in Ada’s office after Pippa’s offer to work together, to be a team. Left her in the mirror the last time they’d spoken - after turning down yet another invitation to visit Pippa at Pentangle’s - making an excuse and ending the mirror call before she could watch Pippa’s face fall in disappointment.
Because Hecate’s love has always been dangerous. Too raw and consuming and wrong for someone as light and good as Pippa. Hecate’s need for love had destroyed her own mother, brought her into an early grave by Hecate’s selfish pleas for her to stay by her side when she’d first come down with the Fever.
So Hecate had tried. Tried to protect Pippa. Tried to shield her from the darkness of her love. But it hadn’t worked. It had been in vain. And now it will destroy Pippa as well.
She brings Pippa’s hand up again and rests her forehead and against the curled fingers. Feels the frustrated tears push against her ribs and crowd within her throat.
“I’m sorry, Pippa.” She chokes out. “I’m so, so sorry.”
But Pippa can’t hear her. Can’t know that Hecate returns her love. That she was too foolish, and too scared, and too blind to allow herself to ever imagine a world where Pippa had loved her back. Had wanted her. Could want her.
And now time has run out, so soon after being reunited after thirty painful years. After Hecate vanishing from Pippa’s life because she feared Pippa would someday leave her first - leave her and not want her to follow. And now Pippa’s about to vanish to a place where Hecate can’t follow, can’t ever follow. And there’s nothing she can do about it.
She doesn’t realize she’s weeping, doesn’t realize she’s hunched over wracked with sobs of regret and pain until she’s slipping from her chair to kneel beside the bed, crying against Pippa’s hand until she’s wrung out and raw.
“I’m so sorry, Pipsqueak. I won’t leave you now. I promise I won’t leave you now. But please. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me. I know I have no right to ask. I don’t know how to make thing right between us. I don’t know how to be what you need - I’m no good at it. But please. Please, stay here with me. Please, let me try. I want to try.”
She finds herself lost to tears again and sits miserably beside the bed, trying not to think of their last meeting and how badly it had gone. How poorly she had treated Pippa on her last visit to Cackle’s. How Pippa had kissed her cheek and fondly tapped her on the nose and forgiven her for it all the same.
Her heart feels like it’s tearing through her body, searing her and leaving her split down the middle. She hunches further forward, shoulder blades nearly meeting on her back as if they alone can ward off this private agony.
Wiping her eyes, she’s on her feet and leaning over the bed in an instant when Pippa’s hand jerks within her own, only to have her stomach bottom out as she realizes that Pippa’s merely progressing to the next stage of the Fever, twitching and restless as dark nightmares work behind closed eyelids.
Gathering Pippa’s hand again she perches anxiously on the edge of the bed, trying to sooth but not quite knowing how. Pippa’s head thrashes against the pillow, fine hairs knotting and curling up in the damp sweat that beads against her hairline. Conjuring a vessel of water and a small cloth, Hecate wets the material and scoots further up the bed to lay it upon Pippa’s forehead, moves her fingers to stoke the wet hair back, shushes her, and murmurs to her, and reaches out with trembling fingers to wipe away her own tears as they fall on Pippa’s cheeks as she works to ease her fretful movements.
Pippa’s muttering to herself, a string of words that she can’t make out, until her her ears catch a single name: Hecate. She holds it warm against her heart as Pippa babbles on, incoherent and delirious, fingers restless against the bed. Hecate catches up Pippa’s hand once more and brings it to her mouth for a swift kiss, in awe when Pippa calms slightly at her touch.
Slowly, she smooths her fingers up Pippa’s arm and down and back. When Pippa relaxes further, she hesitates for a moment before wrapping her arms around Pippa’s shoulders to hoist her upright, just enough so that she can slip behind her and move her so that Pippa’s head is resting in her lap. She wets the cloth again and reapplies it, smoothing the tangles from Pippa’s hair, continuing to brush her fingers through golden strands even once the knots are out.
And she finds herself talking to Pippa. A constant stream of consciousness, so unlike her, but not awkward she finds because it’s Pippa. And Pippa can’t hear her anyway.
So there’s hardly a need to be embarrassed as she tells her about her afternoon in the flower garden, which blooms were open and which she hoped would soon appear. And she tells her how badly she feels for being so hard on poor Sybil Hallow, how much regret she has for losing her temper and taking it out on a frightened child.
She talks about the books she’s ordered most recently on magical elixirs, promises that when Pippa recovers she’ll loan it to her, promises she’ll come to Pentangle’s and they can brew The Beam of Helios together, a potion that helps to boost morale in the long winter months when one is worn down by the absence of the sun.
She muses that perhaps the effects are like bottled springtime. Admits to how she’d like that. Admits, shyly, as though Pippa will open her eyes a tease her silly, that spring is really her favorite season. Tells her why. Feels bashful and sheepish, but tells her all the same. Flips the cloth on Pippa’s forehead and tells her about how the latest luna charts predict that scabiosa blossoms harvested by moonlight are said to be highly potent this year. She talks more than she can ever remember talking, even within a classroom. She pulls Pippa more firmly against her and can’t remember the last time she was this close to a living soul other than Morgana for such an extended period of time.
Perhaps the last time she and Pippa lay side by side by the lake the day before the broomstick competition. When Pippa had rolled in to lay alongside her and looped an arm about her waist. Had rested her head against Hecate’s chest and smiled up at her, and Hecate had thought that surely, surely any moment Pippa would panic at the way Hecate’s heart nearly beat out of her chest below her ear. It had scared her then. The thought of Pippa knowing her deepest secret. As if she could simply put her ear to Hecate’s heart and know that it beat with a love far deeper than friendship.
But it doesn’t scare her now. Instead she gather’s Pippa closer, pulls her upright more so her head can rest above Hecate’s wayward heart. Gives herself over to the idea that if Pippa can’t hear her words, maybe she can still listen to the thump and beat, maybe she can interpret now what Hecate had hidden from her then. I love you, her heart says. But she whispers it all the same, laying a gentle kiss at the top of Pippa’s hairline above the cloth.
“I love you.”
Pippa’s breath is a ratting gasp and Hecate’s run out of words to say.
Instead she plucks up the book that rests on Pippa’s beside and reads aloud. Or does until it becomes apparent that it’s a romance between two witches and she’s forced to set the book aside, coughing and blushing at the contents. She nearly smiles at the confirmation though - that is until Pippa shudders in her arms and she remembers that she’s still too late.
They could have had years. Years of Pippa in her arms, whole and healthy and - She pushes the steamy scene she’d just stumbled across from her head and wrestles with grief again instead.
The hours drip slowly by and she rests her open timepiece on the bedside, looks back and forth between it and the blaze of the Candle, hardly diminished, as time seems to ooze and still around her.
Avery pops in again, looking even more careworn, though she smiles a knowing smile at the sight of the two of them in the bed causing Hecate to blush.
Giving her a few private moments with Pippa, Hecate stretches her legs in the parlor, plucking up a few books of interest and a pile of Pippa’s grading before returning to her post as Avery departs once more.
Holding Pippa against her chest with one arm, she works the way through the markings with her free hand. It’s something to do, after all. And it wouldn’t do for Pippa to get behind in her work. Grimacing at the pink ink of the borrowed pen, she curbs her usually acerbic commentary in favor of a softer yet still practical feedback.
I never wanted to be better than you. I wanted to be like you.
Pippa’s voice sounds in her head and she pauses in her correction of the difference between foxglove and agapanthus to wipe at her eyes once more.
She shifts Pippa against her and finishes the marks quickly. Reads to her from Pippa’s favorite childhood time-traveling witch series, reads to her from Covens Around The World: The Guide to International Witching Customs. Huffs and reads to her from The Marvels of Modern Magic: Volume VII. Huffs again when she actually finds it to be of interest.
Perhaps I want to be more like you too, Pipsqueak.
Still, the night crawls by and the Candle remains tall in it’s holder. Pippa becomes more anxious and sweaty and disturbed in her arms. She casts drying spells and magics on fresh sheets. She closes her eyes and after a few tries manages to summon dried lavender from the Pentangle’s store rooms and adds it to the water, soaking the cloth again before returning it to Pippa’s brow.
When Pippa thrashes and flails against her, she cradles her closer and finds herself humming a mindless tune, startled when it comes to her that her mother sang this song to her. Once upon a time. When she was very small. Snatches of remembered words come to her here and there and she adds them in as best the can, hand moving through Pippa’s hair again until she settles.
Her eyes grow heavy and she scoots down so that they’re side by side, slides a hand hesitantly across Pippa’s ribs to rest on her abdomen, presses closer as Pippa’s breaths come increasingly further and further apart. The Candle and Pippa’s heartbeat have each decreased by half, and Hecate wonders which will give out first. Prays to Merlin it’s not the later.
Swallowing tightly, she wonders how she’ll go on. Wonders how she’ll return to a life without Pippa. Wonders how did she ever managed all those years without her. She murmurs to Pippa again. Little words of affection she would never share outside this space, words of love, of plans and promises for a life past just tonight. Aches for Pippa though she’s in her arms, aches for her voice, her laughter, her deep brown eyes and teasing smile. She whispers I love you. I love you. I love you. Presses her forehead against Pippa’s neck and tries to match her slow breath for slow breath.
She doesn’t think she sleeps - how could she sleep on a night like this - but suddenly the candle is flaring, beaming against her eyes and she blinks at it in dismay, horror rising in her that it’s still so bright, that the flare means Pippa has gone without her notice. But when she raises her head, the early morning sunlight sears across the bed nearly blinding her, nearly blotting from view the Candle where it sits dark and burnt down a nub at the foot of the bed.
Gasping, fearing the worst, she looks down.
And into Pippa’s warm brown eyes.
“I knew I’d get you out to Pentangle’s eventually.”
Pippa’s voice is barely a whisper, and Hecate’s world spins before her. She blinks. Blinks and blinks again. And when Pippa still is gazing up at her, pale and frail, but awake and alive, Hecate wants to burst into tears.
Instead she laughs. Loud and uncontrollably, tears coming then too, making wet sounds as breath leaves her throat, sunlight bright against her eyes, Pippa’s hand within her own.
When she’s calmer, she looks down. Pippa’s still watching her, chapped lips pulled into a tired smile, eyes very bright.
“Pippa.” It’s all she can think to say. So much is crowding in her brain, acidic fear traded in for dizzy joy.
Pippa swallows with a little difficulty, and Hecate moves off the bed and pours her some water, holding the glass for her and helps her sit up enough to drink it. She tries to move away to the chair but Pippa leans further into her, keeping her in place. And Hecate can’t pretend she minds. Instead she moves Pippa back down and settles beside her once more, threading their fingers together.
Their eyes meet.
“How do you feel?” She whispers.
“Like I’ve been mowed down by a fleet of high speed brooms.” But she still smiles a little, breath even under Hecate’s hand.
“I should tell Avery you’re well.”
Pippa laughs softly at that and manages to press Hecate’s hand weakly. “No matter, she stopped in earlier - she’s put an alert on the Candle to know when it went out. We thought you looked cute, exhausted but cute, and let you be.”
“What?” Hecate sits up and stares down at Pippa in dismay. “Pippa - I - I’m should never have fallen asleep, I -” Horrified Hecate searches for words, feels sick shame rise within her.
“You didn’t leave my side, Hecate. That’s all that matters.”
Hecate opens her mouth to object, but Pippa shakes her head slightly back and forth on the pillow.
“Hush, darling, I haven’t the strength right now to argue with you, you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Darling.
And Pippa does look weak. Despite the way the sun catches her hair and makes it glow, despite how having her simply be awake, let alone gazing up at Hecate with such open affection, makes her more beautiful than ever in Hecate’s eyes.
“Will you come back?” Pippa’s fingers shift on the sheets as if she’s making her best effort to gesture Hecate down and they both sigh a bit once Hecate complies.
“I think you should know,” Pippa whispers, breath warm against Hecate’s cheek, “that I could hear you. From wherever I was. I could hear every word.”
Hecate freezes. Blushes. Stiffens on the bed. But Pippa seems to settle even more heavily against her, using the press of their bodies to sooth. Slowly, Hecate raises her eyes.
“It made me love you more than ever, darling.”
Love.
Darling.
Pippa awake and warm against her in the bed.
Hecate lets out a low and shuddering breath and tilts her forehead against Pippa’s on the pillow so they’re nose to nose.
“When I was in the worst of it, it would have been so easy to be at peace. To surrender and let go. But I kept hearing your voice and I had to keep fighting. I had to know what it might be like to have a real chance of being with you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. To be with you.”
Hecate blinks at her around the emotion that swells up inside her and Pippa continues. “And I knew I’d never be at peace, not really, unless I knew what that was like.”
Pippa shifts her pinky a little so she can hook it around Hecate’s, tethering their hands together before she sighs, eyelashes fluttering shut. “I love you. I should have said it years ago. But then you left and I -” Pippa takes a shuddering breath and goes quiet, spent from the effort of speaking.
Hecate leans in, brings her free hand up and brushes the tips of her fingers across Pippa’s cheeks. “I was afraid.” She whispers and Pippa’s eyes open again, “Afraid of what I felt for you. Afraid that it would never be enough.” She trances a finger over Pippa’s lips, tingles when Pippa presses a soft kiss there. “Afraid it would be too much.”
“It could never be too much,” Pippa whispers back. “Not to me. Never to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Hecate bites her lip and pushes down on the sense of loss that flutters against her lungs, cold and aching. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Pippa’s eyes are suddenly very soft. “Just -” Her eyes close again.
“Just what?”
“Kiss me?”
Heart hammering, Hecate moves her face closer across the pillow. Slides her hand around the back of Pippa’s head to pull her in until their breath mingles. Tries to steady her breathing and brings their mouths together, slowly, gently, hesitantly. Pippa’s lips are rough under her own, and Hecate trembles as Pippa sighs into the kiss and she pulls back, overwhelmed and quite undone.
Pippa sighs again and Hecate brings her closer, cradles her against her, shifts so Pippa can bury her face in her neck and nearly cries with the sharp, sweet joy of it all.
They lie together in the morning sun for a long while until finally Pippa stirs in her arms, pulling back and blinking up at her sleepily.
“I need a bath.”
“I used the shower spell -”
“You know that only works mostly. I feel like garden gnomes have rubbed their grimey little feet all over me.”
“Quite the image.”
Pippa grins at her, a spark of her usual verve returning, cheeks slightly pinker.
“Will you help me? If you don’t mind another image.” She laughs softly as a flush darkens Hecate’s cheeks, but falls silent, closing her eyes again.
“I will.” The words fall from her lips and there’s a weight to them, she thinks. A pledge to stand by Pippa’s side now, to care for her, to protect her by being present rather than running. To commit to this intimacy fully and completely, now that the boundaries have been redrawn between them. Or rather, removed entirely.
“Pippa,” She breaths, pressing their foreheads back together and stroking her cheek until until Pippa blinks open her eyes. “Am I yours?”
It seems important to ask. To be sure. Pippa's eyes do that thing again - melting into such softness that Hecate feels as if she’s missed the bottom step and fallen unexpectedly through air - and the corners of Pippa’s mouth tug up a bit before she schools her expression into one more serious.
“Would you like to be mine?”
“I’d like us to be each others.”
And Pippa does smile at that, bright and watery and loving. Between them their pinkies are still hooked together and Hecate feels her pressing down, squeezing until she squeezes back.
“I’d like that, too.”
Hecate moves in and gently kisses her again and Pippa hums against her mouth until they’re both smiling too much to continue.
Rising, Hecate moves one arm under Pippa’s neck and the other beneath her knees, pausing to catch her eye. “I’d rather carry you than transfer, I don’t think you should attempt any dematerializing until you’re stronger.” Pippa moves her arms around Hecate’s neck and laughs a bit as Hecate lifts her.
And it’s true, Hecate reasons as she pulls Pippa up into her arms, gasping at how light and frail she feels, Pippa is too weak for the strain of a transfer. But secretly, impractically, she wants to be close to her. To feel naked and exposed without the use of her magic, as she herself would feel if she were in Pippa’s position, dependent on another person for such simple necessities.
The words romantic gesture arise behind her eyes, pulled straight from Pippa’s bedside novel, and she shoves them to the back of her mind in favor savoring the way Pippa clings to her, her breath warm against her neck.
The bathroom is bright and airy, the freestanding tub in the center deep and inviting. Jutting her chin out, she magics it full of hot water, tinging it with some of the lavender blossoms until the room begins to fill with fragrant steam. Balancing Pippa on the lip of the tub, she brings a hand down to stroke the fabric where Pippa’s nightgown ends just above her knee. “No harm with me getting you into the tub and then removing this by magic.”
Pippa curls her fingers gently against the back of her neck and grins. “No harm removing it without magic and joining me in the tub.”
Hecate isn’t sure which is hotter, the bath water or her face. But she slowly pushes the fabric up, up over Pippa’s thigh to her waist, pulls her upright to balance against her while she tracks the journey further with her free hand, feeling lightheaded at the feel of Pippa’s soft skin beneath her palm.
Her hand moves to Pippa’s lower back to steady her as Pippa gingerly raises her arms and Hecate pulls the fabric free. Pippa’s arms immediately go back around Hecate’s neck, pulling her close and Hecate wonders if it’s exhaustion from standing or a desire to stay close. Or both.
She pulls a hand through Pippa’s hair and guides her head back up for another gentle kiss, gasping a bit as Pippa parts her lips and deeps it, something unfurling low in her belly just as steam curls through the room.
“Pippa.” But Pippa merely hums and allows Hecate to help her navigate her way into the water, though she nearly slips below the surface, unable to sit up on her own. Hecate bites her lip but Pippa laughs. “No harm,” she repeats softly, hair turning dark and lips just above the waterline. She looks like a mermaid, Hecate thinks blushingly, trying not to let her eyes stray from Pippa’s.
Hesitantly she reaches for her zipper of her dress and drags it down, moving to the head of the tub and out of Pippa’s line of vision as she removes her garments, feeling self-conscious. She stands for a moment, letting goosebumps rise on her skin in the cool air.
When she can’t delay any longer, she steps cautiously into the tub and lets the hot water flow around her, blushing and shy but determined to be steady. She’s never cared for anyone like this before she thinks, as she pulls Pippa upwards so they’re back to front, shivering in full when their bodies make contact.
She’s never had to. And no one has cared for her like this since she was very small. Not until Pippa had come into her life with her easy, consistent affection. She’d brushed and braided her hair, snuck her her favorite ginger biscuits, smoothed a hand down her back or an arm during times of stress.
She’d taught Hecate in so many ways a lessons that she realizes she has not truly learned until now. That there’s a magic to caring for another person. To give of oneself as if in a freefall, never knowing what to expect upon the landing, but taking the risk just the same.
She magics a cup into being and fills it, dousing Pippa’s hair and summoning over her shampoo, bracing Pippa upright with her knees as she lathers the suds against her scalp with careful hands.
It’s intimate in a way that makes Hecate’s heart glow, nearly overwhelmed that Pippa trusts her with this task. With this closeness. She bends Pippa forward to rinse her hair and blushes at the sight of Pippa’s freckled back. Brushing cautious fingers down Pippa’s spine as she feels dizzy with tenderness. With awe. Awe that Pippa’s blood pumps beneath her fingers, that her lungs expand into her palm where her hand presses just below her shoulder blades. Whole and warm against her, cradled and protected by her body alone.
She guides Pippa back and Pippa turns a bit, the spacious tub allowing for her to tuck herself sideways, forehead coming to rest against Hecate’s shoulder, quaking a bit from the exertion. And perhaps, Hecate wonders, from the way their bodies brush.
“I do believe this was all a ruse, Miss Pentangle, to get me to come out to visit. To get me into a bath with you.”
She feels Pippa’s laugh huff air against her neck. “You found me out.” Pippa pulls back, and then, “But what is it going to take to get you into bed with me?” Pippa’s eyes are very dark and Hecate feels every single point where they touch, warm, wet skin pressing and sliding together.
She chokes a little and when she can breath again, she brings a hand up to stroke down Pippa’s back beneath the water, delighting in the way it makes Pippa shiver.
“Being able to sit up for five minutes on your own would be a start.”
Pippa returns her chin to Hecate’s should and blows air across it until Hecate shivers in turn.
“Mmmm, I suppose. I’ve waited thirty years, I suppose I could wait a little longer.”
Hecate’s fingers still and she moves them to tilt Pippa’s chin up so their eyes align. “It wasn’t because of anything you did.”
“Why wouldn’t you come to Pentangle’s?” Pippa whispers, eyes suddenly glistening. She looks so vulnerable that Hecate’s stomach twists on itself in shame. “I didn’t want to disappoint you again. To get close to you again when I knew my feelings hadn’t changed.”
Pippa raises her head and shifts again, arms trembling as she uses the edges of the tub to support herself. Suddenly she’s in Hecate’s lap, knees on either side of Hecate’s legs, water streaming down her as she leans in and pulls Hecate in so her forehead rests against Pippa’s sternum. Hecate shivers, and sighs, and aches.
“And now?” Pippa gently traces patterns along the naked skin of Hecate’s shoulders and Hecate can hear her rapid heartbeat.
“And now -” Hecate tilts her head and kisses Pippa over her left breast where she images her heart must be. She wraps her hands around Pippa’s back and supports her, bringing her closer so she can kiss her lips instead. “And now I have so much to make up for.” She bites her lip when they part, shyness still tugging at the edges of her mind.
“I left you once and thought I’d lost you. I found you once more only to nearly lose you again. And now I want this -” She brushes her fingers under Pippa’s chin and Pippa leans in and meets her, their mouths moving together, the room still and silent except for the sounds of the water around them and the their shallow breathing. When they part Pippa’s eyes are rather glassy and goosebumps raise beneath Hecate’s hands as she shivers.
“I think it’s time to get you back in bed.”
“Ah-ha,” Pippa intones and Hecate raises a dangerous eyebrow. “Pippa.”
“I really am feeling much better.”
“You look terrible.”
Pippa gasps and leans forward to nip at Hecate’s lower lip. “I never look terrible.”
“No,” Hecate agrees. “It’s rather aggravating.”
Pippa laughs and Hecate helps her stand, blushing again at the exposure. But Pippa doesn’t seem to mind, leans against her as Hecate guides her from the tub, shivers and grins at Hecate’s drying spell. Kisses Hecate’s neck all the way back from the bathroom to the bedroom as Hecate bites her lip so hard she nearly draws blood to keep from dropping her.
But there’s such a sweetness to the way Pippa holds on to her when they reach the bed and Hecate sets her gently on her feet so she can wave a hand summon new sheets. A sensuality too, as Pippa breathes a thank you against her ear, before kissing Hecate’s cheek and drawing her down so she lays above her on the bed. She leans up and kisses Hecate properly and Hecate thinks she might whirl and spin into a thousand pieces at brush of Pippa’s tongue against her own.
“You need your rest.” Kiss. “Pippa.” Kiss. “I swear by The Code -”
“Toss The Code,” Pippa says, tugging at Hecate’s bun so that pins fly everywhere.
“Pippa. Pentangle.” Hecate stares down at her as aroused as she is shocked.
But Pippa merely runs her hands up Hecate’s sides in a way that sends lighting through her body and their mouths meet again.
“I should think nearly dying gives me a pass to spend a day as I please,” Pippa murmurs against her skin, arching slightly as Hecate kisses her way down to below Pippa’s ear. She drops back to the bed panting however and looks up at Hecate rather crossly. “It’s not fair. We’ve waited years.”
Hecate moves to rest beside her, trying to calm her rapid heart. “I’d hardly feel comfortable taking advantage of you when you’re not fully well.”
“Taking advantage.” Pippa’s eyes suddenly burn into hers and she shifts on the bed so their legs are tangled together in a way that makes Hecate jolt against her. “I know that I want, Hecate Hardbroom.”
“This?” Hecate whispers, pressing back against her.
Pippa hisses and moves slightly so Hecate’s movements bring their bodies together and they both whimper. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Stilling Hecate feels her brows draw together. “What if Avery comes to check on you?” She whispers, suddenly chagrined.
“Ah, well. Avery’s gone off for a long nap, you see. Miss Cackle has been awfuly kind. Avery mentioned when she stopped by that she’s sent Miss Drill over for the day. Wonderful at getting the students out for the castle for a Sports Day, that one. And they’re just thrilled to receive instruction from The Star of the Sky. The other staff is manning the rest of the head duties for the time being, and besides, I’ve happened to have heard that Miss Drill is excellent in a crisis. So, you see, we may rest easy.”
“Miss Drill - Star of the - excellent in a crisis -?” But Pippa simply kisses her to silence her and she finds she doesn’t mind.
Pulling back Pippa looks serious however. “I would like to recover enough to visit the remaining students in the infirmary this evening. It’s more important to me than anything that they feel they are well cared for.”
Hecate meets her gaze and strokes her cheek. “Thank you.” They look solemnly at each other for a moment and Pippa entwines their fingers and kisses Hecate’s knuckles. “Last night couldn’t have been easy for you. On many levels.” She kisses Hecate’s fingertips. “Are you alright?”
And Hecate feels warmth flood her. Sweet and steady and shaped like love.
“Yes,” she whispers, and means it. Presses closer to Pippa and kisses her harder. Feels as if the spell from her childhood has been broken at long last, the nightmare falling away in exchange for this rebirth.
They move together on the bed, gently, carefully, and Hecate knows there will be times to come, many more times to come, where they don’t have to be careful, where they won’t have to pause so Pippa can catch her breath, or laugh at their clumsy movements. But for now it’s everything Hecate could want. Everything she could need. The closeness, the press of Pippa’s skin against her own, the love that swells and trembles between their bodies until they both lie shuddering together entirely spent.
And as the late morning sunlight spills across them, Hecate thinks she’d rather like to show Pippa her garden. To see her in amongst the new blooms as they rise from the cold earth. Brave and resilient and beautiful in a way that makes no sense to Hecate most days.
Like Pippa.
Who smiles at her and leans up to kiss her once again.
And it makes her heart trip over itself each and every time.