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Though she did not like to linger on the past, in fact made it a point to distance herself from it, Hecate knew she carried parts of her childhood with her.
Some of them were good, like how when she glanced in the mirror in the early mornings, still half asleep, she’d catch her mother looking back at her for just a moment; a replacement for the photos she’d never had and the scant memories she’d been able to form before she was snatched away.
Some were questionable, the ones that, with hindsight, didn’t come from the healthiest of beginnings but none the less had shaped her into the woman she was. Her father’s penchant for discipline and order had ensnared her at such an early age that she’d adopted his attitudes as her own without noticing, not to mention the inescapable power of her family name and the weight of expectation that came with it. Even after all these years, having made her own name for herself, found her place in the world with a solid reputation to boot, its syllables rang like a threat in her mind; a whole millennia of history that she felt obliged to live up to.
And then there was the one she fought hardest to rid herself of but could not, as though it was etched into the very makings of her. For as loathe as she was to admit it, Hecate suffered terribly from nightmares. No matter what she did and she had tried many a remedy, both magical and not, they stuck with her. Year after year, they followed her dutifully, not every night but most. When she was a child they had been juvenile dreams, simple fears that she had long since talked herself out of. But rather than fading, her nightmares seemed to establish themselves deeper within her, such dreams waking her in frantic bursts of terror, heart racing as she lay there, unsettled and breathless. Alone she would tremble and hate herself, cursing her mind and the easiness of its betrayal as it refused to let her settle back to sleep, instead forced her to watch each sunrise until she’d learned to loathe them.
But then, quite by accident and after many bumbling starts, Hecate had found her perfect remedy in the place she’d least expected: Ada Cackle. A woman who seemed on the surface only threatening enough to chase errant biscuit crumbs from her jumpers, was in fact adept at chasing away every last one of Hecate’s nightmares. She’d found this, after their shared declarations in the peak of a summer long since passed, when they’d first shared a bed together. She’d awoken in her usual state of disarray, with hands splayed and tears pressing at the corner of eyes, only to find a warm hand cupped around her hip. Movements slow with sleep and her voice thick, Ada had murmured almost intelligible reassurances as she moved to curl around her, arm winding around her waist. Without hesitation Hecate had buried her face in the crook of her neck, only drawing back slightly to look Ada in the eye, to watch the twilight outside the window flicker in their soft silvery blue depths. And then she had smiled, haplessly, as Ada pressed a slow soft kiss to her forehead, followed by a whole string of them until she had reached her temple. A leg hooked over hers and then she was drawn back into the safety of her arms, where she slept, dreamlessly, until the next morning.
After that, and at Ada’s insistence when Hecate had finished tripping her way through an explanation the next morning, Hecate found herself in Ada’s bed every night. With an easy charm in place to alert Hecate to any student who sought her during the night, it seemed to be a winning situation - except when it came to Ada’s absences.
Which was why Hecate jolted awake in the dead of night, cheeks damp and heart racing. Though the nightmare was faded, the specifics lost the moment she awoke, she could still feel the clouded sense of loss cleaving through her. She reached out instinctively, searching for Ada but the space next to her was empty and cold. For a moment Hecate feared that the loss was real – that Ada was gone, snatched from her by some invisible evil. Just as her heart leapt into her throat, her hands balled to trembling fists, she remembered the conference called by the Great Wizard. All Head Teachers, whilst their students were still away for the summer, were required to attend in aid of better protecting their schools against anyone who would wish to cause harm; a meeting that Hecate was quite sure had been called because of the debacle with Agatha. Though Hecate had offered to go as well, Ada had persuaded her to stay, reasoning that it was only one night and that perhaps she should still give The Great Wizard a little time to get over his brief stint as a balloon. One could never be too careful after all, with men and their bruised egos. But still how Hecate longed for Ada to be there, to assuage her fears, to let her feel her warm and real and whole in her arms. For a moment she considered mirroring her, just so she could see her, but she cursed her neediness and banished the thought.
Wiping her hands down her sticky cheeks, Hecate pushed herself out of bed and padded toward the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. Quickly seeking out one of Ada’s jumpers, pink and warm and well worn, she pulled it on, let the sleeves hang over her fingers as she wrapped herself up in the smell of her. A part of her wanted to chastise herself for the blatant lack of discipline, of not being able to comfort herself for just one night, but she was too tired not to give into the immediate relief.
Transferring to Ada’s office, unable to bear the emptiness of the bedroom that seemed too oppressive without Ada there, she settled instead in Ada’s armchair. Curling up, arms crossed under her head as she leant up against the arm rest, she let the soft light of the room and the smell of tea and books and Ada’s magic lull her back to sleep as best she could.
…
Sighing gratefully as she entered the room, Ada leant her broomstick up against the wall and turned her head to the welcome comfort of her office. She’d decided against disturbing Hecate, what with it still being early, and instead thought of starting the write up of Cackle’s ‘Improved Security Measures’ to appease The Great Wizard – it would, at the very least, surprise Hecate if she started something early for once in her life. However she stopped in her tracks as she noticed the small, curled up figure in her armchair. Her heart stuttered in her chest, a frequent occurrence whenever Hecate was around, a smile breaking out across her face as she watched the simple beauty of Hecate as she slept. Her hair long and loose but mussed with sleep, her body all but lost in her own pink jumper, Hecate’s nose buried in its collar. She could barely contain the swell of emotion she felt in that moment, to see the sleep soft version of her usually sharp lover in the first rays of dawn. In those moments it felt as though only she knew Hecate, that she was hers alone in the pale light of a summer’s morning. She knew emphatically that she would never stop being thankful for that privilege; to see every side of Hecate Hardbroom and love each facet.
She moved quietly, her feet drawing her forward without her even realising it. Slowly she crouched down at the foot of the armchair and laid her hands gently atop of Hecate’s thighs. She felt the muscle beneath her fingertips twitch in recognition of her touch, but Hecate was a notoriously heavy sleeper, and whilst she didn’t sleep for long, she slept hard. She shook her gently, fingers tightening infinitesimally against her thighs.
“Hecate,” Ada prompted softly.
Hecate whined in protest, buried her face further in the jumper she’d borrowed.
Ada struggled to rein in her laughter, instead moving to stroke her thumb first over the crest of Hecate’s forehead before moving up to sift through her hair.
“Hecate,” she said, as the silken strands ran through her fingers, stopping at the odd tangle to smooth them out. “I’m home, dear one”.
“Ada,” Hecate drawled sleepily, eyes still closed though her body now shifted, head turning to bump against Ada’s hand.
“Shall I leave you to go back to sleep?” Ada murmured amusedly, as her fingers slipped down to stroke the back of Hecate’s neck.
Huffing shortly, Hecate shook her head. “No. Stay,” she insisted sleepily, her hand sneaking out of the overlarge jumper sleeve to search blindly for Ada’s hand. “Come here”.
“I am here,” Ada chuckled as she laced their fingers together. For once Hecate’s fingers were warmer than her own.
“No, I mean here,” Hecate wriggled her hips in impatient inclination.
Heart almost fit to burst with affection, Ada waved her free hand over the armchair, laughed as Hecate stretched languorously, cat like, when the armchair turned into an overly large sofa. Not once, not even for a moment, did she open her eyes.
Standing up, groaning slightly as she did, Ada toed off her shoes and banished her travelling cloak before snapping her fingers to change into the soft woollen dressing gown that usually hung on the back of her door. Still smiling, she settled in behind Hecate, the sofa large enough that it could be mistaken for a bed, and made herself comfortable. Propping herself up in the crook of the cushioned sofa, the rest of her stretched out, she wrapped her arms around Hecate’s middle and tugged her gently towards her.
Soft and pliant, Hecate rolled over as she moved, immediately nuzzling into Ada’s side, her head rested on her shoulder, arms reaching to wrap around whatever she could find.
Immediately threading her fingers through Hecate’s hair once more, Ada massaged the top of her head and half expected Hecate to start purring when she nudged closer towards her.
“Ada,” she sighed happily, her voice just a faint whisper into the side of Ada’s neck. “I missed you”.
“I noticed,” Ada murmured into her hair, her free hand plucking at the garment in silent question.
“Nightmare,” Hecate admitted, her voice tainted with bitterness even as she pressed closer to Ada’s warmth, ‘you weren’t there, so I had to make do”.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ada soothed, as her hand sought Hecate’s fingers once more, settling over the ones fisted in the material above her ribs. She could feel the tension to them, and she slowly rubbed her thumb over Hecate’s knuckles in silent assurance.
Hecate blew out a breath. “All I can remember is I lost you”.
“Well you haven’t my love. You won’t”. She pressed a kiss to Hecate’s forehead in promise, then another and another as though she could make up for the night before. Guilt pooled in her stomach, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on it, not when Hecate was like this, her defences dropped in her sleepiness, open and loving and heartbreakingly vulnerable. Instead she wrapped her up a little tighter. Ada was unsure if Hecate would ever truly know how proud she was that Hecate unwaveringly trusted her with the reality of herself, even when she didn’t like it, she still allowed Ada to see. She wondered if Hecate could ever know how much that meant to her.
Her breath hitched, just slightly, but Ada was quick to cover it with another firm assurance. “I’m afraid you won’t be rid of me for a long while yet”.
“Sentimental witch,” Hecate grumbled, but the hand that had once been rigid beneath Ada’s flipped to lace their fingers together. She squeezed once, twice and Ada could have cried in that moment, sure that Hecate could read her mind.
Refusing to give way to tears, Ada instead tugged once again at the jumper Hecate was wearing. “As are you,” she teased, “you are going soft on me after all, dear heart”.
“I have always been soft for you, Ada Cackle,” Hecate murmured thickly, “always”.