Chapter Text
After Pippa leaves, pressing a light kiss to Hecate’s cheek and smiling at the stiff squeak the action elicits, Hecate gets ready for bed. Donning her nightgown, she performs her nightly routine, but as she lies in bed, she finds she can’t sleep.
Her eyes close, her breath steadies, but her mind refuses to submit to sleep’s alluring pull. Hecate finds herself trapped in an endless loop, reviewing the same memories over and over again, image after image, word after word: Pippa smiling, Pippa frowning in concentration, Pippa pumping her fist in victory and pouting playfully when she inevitably lost, Pippa leaving.
With an irritated sigh, Hecate lurches to her feet and strides to her desk. She sits at her desk, marking pen in hand, and resolves to put Pippa out of her mind. But as she makes her way through the steadily shrinking pile of essays, if she even dares call them that, her mind does not immediately drift to despair over the future of witchkind nor the rigorous lesson plan she must create to explain to her Year Ones that, no, essays are not stories and should not be written as such.
Instead, she finds her gaze flicking up after every paragraph to the greying stems and disintegrating leaves sitting innocently in the very corner of her desk. Setting her pen aside, Hecate reaches for the vase and pulls it toward her, fingering a single dry leaf between two slim fingers, curved black nails scratching the rough surface. The leaf falls apart under her touch, the lifeless, grey ashes floating to rest upon her desk. She brushes them off with a quick flick of her wrist, lip curling at the remaining debris revealed in the gift’s original resting spot.
With a small tilt of her head, Hecate lifts the barren bouquet from its watery confines and considers it for a long moment. The bouquet's sickly sweet smell has faded almost entirely, but her lip still curls at the sight of the offending plant protruding from its midst. In her contemplation, her mind, against her express wishes, wanders back to the evening’s visitor and said visitor’s vehement condemnation of the gift, and her brow furrows, her hand clenching around the stalks. The barest hint of electricity at her fingertips, the bouquet disintegrates in her fist, the inky ashes staining her palm as they slip from her white-knuckled grip.
The ashes, the remnants of the foolishly accepted gift hit the floor, the desk, with a cacophony of sound that strains in Hecate’s chest. The sounds of her breath and the irregular beating of her heart are the only sounds that disturb the still night, but still she can hear the clashing dissonance ringing in her ears. And as they settle, layer upon layer, to the floor, Hecate feels the dark waves crashing into her and suffocating that warm glow in her chest, the one the bouquet’s arrival had ignited after so many years of dormancy.
Exhaling sharply, Hecate surveys the mess marring her pristine desk and nods sharply to herself as she vanishes it with a sharp snap. She turns her attention back to her work, the distraction dealt with. But as she marks, losing herself to the simple rhythm of slashes and exes, Hecate finds herself unable to shake the tight squeezing in her chest nor the inky black remains she still feels on her palm.
For the rest of the week, Hecate attempts to put the gift, Pippa, and that night from her mind, though the empty vase still looms ominously on the corner of her desk. And though her gaze strays to it as she works, distracting her from her marking, she finds she is not yet willing to send it back to its cupboard.
She doesn’t see Pippa again, not until exactly a week after receiving her first gift.
That night, as she brushes out her hair, massaging her tender scalp to release the tension, Hecate hears a knock at the door, a dull three beat intonation that no witch could possibly produce. She strides to the door and pulls it open, standing to the side, her whole body tense. When nothing happens, she leans past the door to look into the hallway. Just as she had the first time, Hecate glares down the hallway but, again, sees no one. Pursing her lips, Hecate’s gaze drifts down to the cold, stone floor, and her brow furrows.
Outside her door lies a neatly folded piece of paper, the corner bent as if someone had tried to slide it under her carefully warded door. It looks innocent enough, but Hecate takes no chances, curling her fingers so the paper floats up to her. When she turns, the paper follows, trailing behind her every step as she strides back into her rooms, the door shutting with a quiet click behind her. Settling down in one of her two armchairs, Hecate casts a number of diagnostic spells over the paper before finally taking it between two slim fingers.
She unfolds the note, flattening it out on her lap. The moment her gaze lands on the writing, before she can read a single word, her eyes narrow. It is not the handwriting she had expected. Her gaze flicks over the note, and her cheeks darken, though not, she is sure, for the reason the sender had hoped. Reading it again, she can distantly hear the low simmering in her blood, the white-hot, seething feeling coursing through her body.
Standing, the creased paper crumpling in her fist, Hecate stalks over to the large mirror above her desk, snapping Pippa’s name at it with a flick of her wrist, unable to keep her ire completely contained. When the image focuses, Pippa coming into view, Hecate hears her name falling from Pippa’s mouth, the pink witch halfway through beginning her own call. Looking up, Pippa jumps but smiles, her face lighting up.
“Hecate! I was just about to call,” she says warmly.
Hecate doesn’t return the smile, holding up her note stiffly and arching a brow. “I take it you have received a…similar note?”
Pippa’s smile slips a bit, but she nods, holding up her own note. The quick motion reveals Pippa’s neat, swirling print and ‘my dearest Hecate’ written across the top. “Well, it seems someone is playing a trick on us.” She doesn’t look at the mirror, the ‘again’ going unsaid though not unheard.
“Indeed,” Hecate replies stiffly. “I will speak to her.”
“Oh, no, I’m sure it’s not Mildred,” Pippa assures her, glancing up to meet Hecate’s gaze. “I’m sure you sorted her out after her little trick after the Spelling Bee. She must know better by now.”
Though Hecate is fully aware of her reputation, she can’t help but bristle at the accusation. She doesn't tell Pippa that Mildred had, in fact, received no consequences for her actions that day.
“Yes...quite,” she says instead, her words clipped.
“Besides,” Pippa continues, “and I don’t like to say this about students, but this is very advanced magic, a little above her current level, don’t you think?”
Hecate exhales and nods sharply. “Quite,” she repeats. “If that is all, I am quite busy. I will mirror you when the culprit is…identified.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Pippa assures her, “we can talk about it on Tuesday, I’ll help you.”
“Tuesday?” Hecate repeats slowly, her lip curling as if it couldn’t stand to be close to the word rolling around her mouth.
“Of course,” Pippa smiles, “did…Ada not tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Hecate asks, her voice dropping to its low, dangerous timbre, though Pippa is unaffected.
“Oh, just that I’ll be popping by for a short meeting to discuss enrollment and curriculum.” Pippa frowns. “She really didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Hecate replies curtly, “but I’m quite sure she had her reasons. Now, is that all?” She asks icily.
Pippa nods, her smile slipping away entirely, leaving tired, dark eyes and a dimming glow. She rubs her forehead with a finger and sighs. “Yes, that’s all. Goodnight, Hecate.”
Returning the goodbye, Hecate ends the call with a flick of her wrist and sinks down into a chair with a sigh. She sits there for a moment longer, massaging her temple in a bid to combat the steady ache that had been building since she received the note before rising stiffly. When she gets into bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, she can’t quite tell whether she hopes Tuesday will be there in the blink of an eye or whether she hopes it will never arrive at all.
Tuesday does end up arriving according to schedule, and with it comes Pippa. She flies into the courtyard with no less fanfare than the previous time, surrounded by crowds of her adoring fans, who Miss Hardbroom knows would no doubt prefer the pink witch to be teaching them that afternoon. But, unfortunately for them, they’re stuck with her.
When Pippa is finally able to make her way into the castle, she finds Hecate waiting for her in the entrance hall, an almost impassive sneer marring her features. Pippa presses the back of her hand to her forehead and inclines her head, murmuring a greeting to her old friend.
Hecate returns the gesture stiffly and motions down the hallway. “If you will follow me, Miss Pentangle.”
“Of course.” Pippa smiles radiantly, the beam so bright Hecate can’t help but glance at it and let it coax a smile, barely more than a twitch of her lips, from her.
Striding down the hall, Hecate stops sharply in front of Miss Cackle’s office door, Pippa almost colliding into her with a squeak. When Hecate raises a hand to rap on the old wood, Pippa catches it in her own, dropping Hecate's hand quickly when Hecate glares.
“Hecate, wait. I—I have something for you,” Pippa says, her dark eyes searching Hecate’s own. They had amassed quite a crowd during their trek to the headmistress’ office, but the girls quickly disperse when Hecate spins with a glare that promises detention for each and every one of them.
Circling her fingers in the air, Pippa summons a small bouquet to her hand and hesitantly offers it to Hecate. “Here…for you.”
Hecate finds herself without words as she reaches to take the flowers from Pippa, holding it between her thumb and forefinger. She’s suddenly glad she sent the girls away, though she senses one or two, almost certainly a young witch with double plaits and a penchant for trouble, are still lurking just around the corner.
“Thank you,” she says stiffly, her gaze softening when Pippa smiles shyly.
“I thought it might be nice to have something to spruce up that room of yours a bit,” she says, turning to the door. “Not to worry,” she leans over to Hecate as if sharing some invaluable secret, her smile tinged with just a hint of smugness, “there’s no lavender in this one.”
Before Hecate can reply, her face still frozen in shock, Pippa is knocking on the door and letting herself into Miss Cackle’s office, a polite smile on her face as she greets her fellow headmistress. Shaking herself, Hecate transfers the flowers away and joins the other two witches, the door shutting with a decisive click behind her.
Her day quickly sours from there, and she takes to shooting glares at Pippa from Miss Cackle’s side as they discuss the coming term. Pippa is adamant that her modern magic holds appeal to even the oldest families, while Hecate sniffs at the very idea. But enrollment at Pentangle’s is on the rise, while Cackle’s own has stagnated over the past few years, so Hecate is forced to listen to Pippa’s modern ideas, such as an exchange program. She sneers in distaste as Pippa explains that students will be able to apply to spend a term at Cackle’s if they are a current student at Pentangle’s and vice versa.
Hecate shudders to think of the chaos that will run rampant if they introduce a coed environment to Cackle's. Some of the girls, as demonstrated during the Spelling Bee, won’t know what to do, and the parents are guaranteed to protest. Only the highest achieving students would be permitted to study at the other school, but Hecate does wonder if Mildred will end up at Pentangle’s, and Pippa will get a taste of what dealing with the young witch is like. Perhaps then she could understand why Hecate refuses to be lenient toward Mildred, though she has been showing promising growth and understanding of the subjects due to her evening detentions with Hecate.
When the meeting finally ends, Pippa having managed to convince Ada to begin drawing up plans for such a program, and Hecate has transferred away with an irate twist of her fingers, Pippa sighs, drawing a knowing look from Miss Cackle, and transfers away as well. She reappears outside of a very familiar door, one that leads to a room she had spent many of her days in while at Cackle’s.
Knocking, she calls out softly but gets no reply. Pippa pushes the door open, the old wood squeaking on its hinges, and sighs at the sight before her. Mildred is hunched over her desk, putting the careful last touches on two small tarts, one yellow and hopefully lemon, the other covered in small berries.
“Can I tell you a secret, Mildred?” Pippa asks, suppressing a smile when Mildred jumps and spins around to face her, the young witch’s eyes wide.
“Miss Pentangle!” Mildred backs away against her desk, hiding the evidence with her body. “W-What are you doing here?”
“You know…I’ve never much liked flowers; strange, I know,” Pippa continued, giving the startled young witch a small smile. “I’ve always found myself drawn to hardier plants…succulents, cacti and such.” She gives Mildred an expectant look, but all Mildred can do is glance around in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. “I admire them really. They’re…prickly, but their spines are for protection, not aggression. They can survive alone with hardly any water, but…with just a little bit of love, they flourish.”
Mildred nods slowly, still unsure what point Miss Pentangle is trying to make. Pippa clicks her tongue, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe.
“I know what you’ve been doing, Mildred.” The girl in question colors and looks away, refusing to meet the pink witch’s eye. Pippa gives her a moment to collect herself, leaving them in an awkward three beat silence before continuing. “I’m very disappointed in you.”
Glancing back up, Mildred catches sight of the frown marring Miss Pentangle’s usually cheerful features and ducks her head with a mumble. “I’m sorry. I just…Miss Hardbroom’s been so much happier since you made up.”
“So what, you’re looking to boost your marks?” Pippa asks, her brow arching in a way that sends shivers down Mildred’s spine. Not from fear, no, but from the chilling familiarity the action holds. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you of all people.”
“No!” Mildred blurts out, darting forward, her arms stretched out, momentarily forgetting about the tarts behind her in her rush to disabuse Miss Pentangle of the notion. “No,” she repeats more quietly, “I just thought—well, you both deserve to be happy,” she blushes again but soldiers on, “and-and…I thought that you might make…each other happy.” She finishes with a squeak, her voice pitched higher in question as her eyes squeeze shut in anticipation.
Pippa blinks, opening and closing her mouth for a moment, her brow furrowing in shock at Mildred’s forwardness. “Well…” she finds herself out of words and drifts forward, her arms uncrossing and falling to her sides as she perches on the edge of Mildred’s bed.
Mildred grabs one of the abandoned tarts on her desk and takes a cautious step forward, grinning when Miss Pentangle pats the space next to her and collapsing next to the other witch.
“Mildred,” Pippa starts, taking the proffered tart with two fingers and holding it daintily as she searches for the words. Finding none and seeing Mildred’s earnest face, she takes a small bite of the tart in her hand, her eyes flying wide. “Oh, that is…that’s,” she tries to swallow, her teeth almost glued together by the sticky filling, “very good,” she coughs and clears her throat, putting the tart down on Mildred’s bedside table and discreetly flicking away a few involuntary tears.
“You really think so?” Mildred asks, a beam already lighting up her face.
Pippa nods. “Of course, it’s got so many…interesting flavors. May I ask…what’s in this one?”
“Er, that one’s…lemon and juniper, I think. I found the recipe in a really old book, so it was a bit hard to tell what everything was.”
“Well, it’s very…innovative,” Pippa says carefully, smiling when Mildred bounces a bit. “Now, back to the…Mildred, it’s sweet that you were thinking about us. You have a good heart, but…” Mildred’s face falls, “our personal, private lives should remain just that…private. It’s not your place to interfere within our lives and doing so is, quite frankly, a breach of our trust.”
Staring down at her lap, her fingers tangling amongst each other, Mildred nods, though there had been no question in Miss Pentangle's words. “I’m really sorry, Miss Pentangle. I just wanted to help.”
Pippa offers her a small smile and nods. “I know, Mildred, but you must understand that there are boundaries…that you crossed this time.”
They sit in silence for a moment before Mildred is brave enough to voice her question. “Are you…are you going to take Tabby away?” She asks in a small voice, shame forcing her into a whisper.
“What? Tabby? Why would I take your familiar away?” Pippa asks, her smile turning confused as she looks from Mildred to Tabby, the cat sleeping contentedly on a pile of Mildred’s clothes.
“Well…isn’t that the, er, consequence for impersonating a teacher?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Pippa’s confusion clears. “No, I won’t be taking him away.” Mildred breathes a sigh of relief, tension draining from her small shoulders. “In fact, you know better than to do anything like this ever again, don’t you?” Mildred nods vigorously, her braids flopping against her back. “Then I think it might be best if we kept this our little secret; Miss Hardbroom never need know.”
Her mouth falling open, Mildred asks, “are you sure?”
“Of course,” Pippa tells her, rising to her feet and brushing the wrinkles out of her clothes. Mildred leaps up as well and throws her arms around Miss Pentangle with a whispered ‘thank you’.
Pippa returns the hug before holding up a hand to transfer away, stopping herself at the last moment with a sort of fond look at Mildred. “You know…she’s always preferred chocolate. Dark chocolate to be exact, the kind so bitter hardly anyone else can bear it. Well…I never could,” she muses to herself. With that, she offers Mildred another bright smile and transfers away.
When she materializes outside a dark wood door, her hand clenches and unclenches at her side. With a deep breath, she nods to herself and holds her hand up to the door, laying her fist against the wood for a long moment before pulling it away again and knocking quietly.
The door unlocks with a click and Pippa is greeted with a barked command to enter. She does so cautiously, taking a small step over the threshold and hovering uncertainly just inside. Hecate is there waiting for her, standing stock-still just a few paces away but entirely out of reach. Hecate’s hand flexes at her side, antsy from containing the anxious magic surging through her body.
“Hecate, I—”
“Pippa, I would—go ahead,” Hecate cedes way to Pippa, inclining her head to her old friend.
Pippa bites her lip and shakes her head. “No, please. What were you going to say?”
“I…would like to…apologize,” Hecate forces the word out, meeting Pippa’s gaze steadily, urging her to find the sincerity in her eyes rather than the stiff words falling from her lips, “for my behavior today. It was rude and…childish.” She stops abruptly, watching Pippa with poorly guised anxiety.
“It’s alright, Hecate,” Pippa replies graciously, a smile appearing at the corners of her lips. “I know you don’t much like change, but I really do think this will be a good thing…for everyone.”
With a curt nod, Hecate opens her mouth to respond but hesitates. When she finally speaks, her voice is rough, hoarse as if she hasn’t spoken before this evening. “I know…What was it you wished to speak about?”
“Oh,” Pippa’s eyes widen, “I, er,” she falters, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a small smile. “I think we should hold off on searching for our…mystery culprit. I’m quite sure they know better than to interfere again.” She smiles brightly if not a tad falsely.
Hecate eyes her suspiciously and bites her lip, no doubt holding it in a litany of protests. After a long moment, she acquiesces with a small nod. “Very well. If that is what you…wish.”
Pippa brightens again, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a true smile. “Thank you, Hiccup.”
“Anything for—” Hecate catches herself, the words having surged from her of their own volition. She reddens and looks away, her hands leaping up to her timepiece, fingers brushing against worn grooves she knows so well.
Her cheeks flushing as well, Pippa clears her throat awkwardly and looks at the empty fireplace, then to the vase on Hecate's desk, holding the colorful bouquet Pippa had brought her, her gaze softening. When neither speak, Pippa swallows and turns to go with a frustrated sigh at her own hesitance. She stares at the fine grain of the door, the swirling and twisting marks blending before her eyes, and glances back. Catching Hecate still watching her, an unreadable look Pippa might have been able to recognize once upon a time, Pippa bites back a gasp. She turns back to the door and takes a deep breath, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she spins.
“Maybe…” she begins, faltering, her words leaving her when she meets Hecate’s dark eyes. But when Hecate offers her the tiniest of smiles, the corners of her lips quirking up, Pippa finds the words she was looking for. “Maybe our little matchmaker wasn’t so far off.”
Hecate’s smile slips away, and she blinks, her lips parting in disbelief. “What?” She asks, reduced to incoherent, one word questions.
“It’s just…the flowers—they were wrong, but I thought they were from,” Hecate stays silent, and Pippa just barely finds the strength to finish, “…you,” she breathes out, taking a step forward, searching Hecate’s eyes for even a mere sliver of her heart reflected back at her. Hecate purses her lips, forcing her answer back into her chest to fester and warp until the words are no longer that, no longer need to leap from her lips, compelling her to take Pippa in her arms and hold her until the world is nothing around them.
At the lack of response, Pippa’s face falls and she ducks her head, her cheeks pink. When she looks up again, she manages a half-hearted smile and blows out a breath. “I just—Hecate, I love you,” she blurts out, words spilling out of her in an unstoppable cascade of memory, regret. “Ever since we met on Selection Day all those years ago...I just knew you were someone I wanted to know. And then—and then that night we went flying and lay on the roof, watching the stars…that was the night I knew I loved you.”
“Pipsqueak,” Hecate says, the word a strangled squeak from her lips as she struggles to meet Pippa’s open, hopeful gaze. “You—I—”
“It’s alright,” Pippa stops her with a sad smile, waving her hand dismissively, “you don’t have to say anything back, just—”
“I do!” The words leap from Hecate in a rough bark, and she clears her throat, ducking her head.
“What?” Pippa breathes out, her eyes alight with wonder. She steps forward, taking Hecate’s hands into her own and rubs her thumb across the backs of Hecate’s hands, the pale witch’s skin soft, smooth under Pippa’s touch.
Hecate shivers and looks up. “I do,” she murmurs. “I…love you, Pippa,” she says hoarsely, tightening her loose grip on Pippa’s hands. The words, once trapped inside her chest, condemned to crumble away in the darkness, leap from her lips on wings of pain and regret. They propel their way from her chest, taking what had once kept them imprisoned and flying. “Ever since you came up to my horrible, drafty attic bedroom in the dead of winter with blankets and an…illegal,” Pippa snorts, “tin of biscuits.”
“Really?” Pippa asks, swiping at the corner of her eye with a finger.
Hecate smiles softly, her eyes glistening, and nods. “Yes,” she murmurs, taking a halting step closer to Pippa, closing the gap between them. Letting go of Hecate’s hands, Pippa loops her arms around Hecate’s neck, leaning into her as Hecate cups her face between her cool palms. “May I?” Hecate asks, her voice strained.
“Please,” Pippa whispers, surging up to meet Hecate in a tender kiss, her eyes shutting as the world ceases to exist around them. As Hecate’s tentative lips meet Pippa’s own, Pippa grins, her lips curving up against Hecate’s as she leans into Hecate, her hands sliding to the back of Hecate’s neck, her fingers tracing the elegant sloping planes of her love’s pale cheeks.
And when Hecate feels Pippa smile into her, she wonders if after all these years, this is what coming home feels like. She wonders if their love will last: if one day they might curl up together on the roof of the cottage they share and stare up at the stars; if they will go to bed tangled up together, neither knowing where they begin and the other ends; if they will spend summers together then part for the new term; if they will hide their love from their students when they visit the other’s school or if all will know that Miss Hardbroom does indeed have a heart. She wonders if she will one day wear Pippa’s ring around her finger, or if they will never need a frivolous ceremony to show their love.
She wonders if they will be happy, or if, perhaps, everything will fall apart, torn apart at the seams by her destructive love, like every other home she’s ever had. But then Pippa is pulling her closer, and Hecate can’t think anymore.
Later that night, when they are curled up together in an armchair in front of the fire, Pippa’s legs hooked over Hecate’s as Hecate rests her head against Pippa’s shoulder, plucking idly at Pippa’s fingers as they talk in low murmurs, Hecate realizes something she never thought she would.
She isn’t alone anymore. Granted, she’s had Ada to keep her company over the years, but Ada has never been Pippa. Pippa, Hecate knows, is the only one who has ever succeeded in bringing light to Hecate’s never-ending, pervasive darkness. She’s the one, the only one, who can drag her from the night with but a word.
Hecate can only hope that if the time ever comes, she will be that person for Pippa.