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“You’re rushing me,” Pippa grumbles, as Hecate magics the sheets covering her into the ether. “Would it really be the end of the world if I came down to breakfast?”
“In the. Great. Hall?” More strangled than usual, Hecate is dashing and severe in a high-necked black lace dress. The highest she owns, unless Pippa is much mistaken. All the better to cover the evidence with. “During term? Really, Pippa.”
“No, no,” Pippa pulls herself the rest of the way out of bed, smoothing out the pale pink camisole that passes for nightwear. (Hecate pleads, Hecate cajoles please just wear something, you never know when someone might come knocking on my door). “I know what this is.”
“Propriety,” Hecate says, as though it closes the matter. Big talk coming from the woman who, since discovering the joys of a more Sapphic relationship with her oldest friend, has unearthed a vocabulary so filthy that even Pippa blushes sometimes. “Simple propriety.”
“No, it’s another factor altogether.” Pippa summons a standing shower that doesn’t splash, lathering quickly while feeling Hecate’s nervous attention on her the whole time. “It’s the fact that I’m not good enough for you. Isn’t it, Hiccup?”
“Wh-what?” Those overpronounced Hs, how Pippa loves them. How she loves everything about this woman who shares her bed and her chessboard, but so rarely her true feelings.
“You’re ashamed of me. You’d hardly be the first witch at Cackle’s to bring a lover to breakfast on a Saturday, hellfire, two of the faculty are essentially living together.”
“But they… that is to say, when the relationship is conventional…”
“Oh do shut up,” Pippa snaps, vanishing the shower, the water and drying herself in three sharp clicks. Fresh clothes appear in her overnight bag, and she takes her time over dressing, one final torture. “I’m not asking you to break any laws. But you fear being associated with someone so frivolous, so modern, will undermine your fierce reputation.”
“Pipsqueak-”
“And that means more to you than my feelings. You’d rather Mildred Hubble think you a terrifying spinster than admit that we make each other happy.”
“What Mildred has to do with this is beyond me but Pippa…” Hecate looks pained, as she so often does around raw emotion. “I would be very proud to have you on my arm. At a restaurant, at a party, at a concert perhaps. While things may be very different at Pentangle’s, there are traditions here. Conventions, if you will.”
“How will they know, Hiccup? Do you really wish another generation of girls left confused and wanting as we were? Not knowing there’s an option? That if they feel more than friendship for a girl, there’s a reason for that?”
Hecate is quiet, worrying at her bottom lip beneath its red lipstick. Finally, she steps closer to Pippa, laying a hand on her bare forearm, just where the pink cape skims it.
“You mean to say, we should lead by example?”
“Yes, Hecate,” Pippa sighs the words in relief. “That’s all I meant. Hiding me in your turret makes me feel unworthy, a dirty little secret that would shock the girls and Ada.”
“Ada has given her blessing-”
“Well then. Breakfast?” Pippa can only press this one last time, knowing anything more will cause Hecate to dig her heels in for good.
“I do believe there’s bacon this morning,” is Hecate’s response, hand sliding down Pippa’s arm until their fingers are entwined. “Shall we?”
Pippa kisses her, quick and darting, delighting in the smile that transforms Hecate’s face as they part.
“Let’s.”