Archive of Our Own

It was almost lights out on Friday night when Xavier’s window rattled. He’d left it partly open to let in some cool air; it was late March, and the humidity was dying down. A high-pitched mew broke through. The window rattled again. He got up from his desk and tilted it outward, curious. A bolt of black fur skittered in, scampering over his trig homework and disappearing under his bed. Only another meow assured him that he hadn’t let something nefarious in, though at Nevermore, anything was possible. He felt his guard snap back up as he got down on his knees and crouched, peering into the dark.

A pair of glowing eyes glared at him.

Xavier sucked in a breath, but kept still. After a few minutes, the darkness sharpened in contrast around the mass of dense fur. The cat was bigger than a kitten, but definitely not full grown.

“Hey,” he said gently. “I won’t hurt you.” The eyes blinked. “You probably just need a place to stay tonight, huh?” he guessed. He pulled his pillow down from the bed and pushed it underneath. The cat starred at it before cautiously sniffing at it. Pets weren’t allowed in the dorms. Witches’ familiars were carefully registered and stuck close by. This was likely a stray, and it was small enough to have reason to fear the owls and hawks in the woods around the school, not to mention the werewolves. “I’ll leave the window open for you,” he added softly. The cat blinked at him again and huffed a sound halfway between a purr and a hiss.

🐈‍⬛

The next morning, the cat was gone, but there was a small indent in the middle of his pillow and a few hairs left behind, black as void.

Wednesday scooped up her clothes, discarded on the ground, with trembling fingers. She pulled on her underwear and then her skirt and blouse, not bothering to button it back up, twisting in her sweater vest. It was just after dawn, usually her least favorite time of day. She threw a sour, resentful look over her shoulder at the row of grave markers behind her and ran back to campus, her hair loose and tangled.

🐈‍⬛

“Where were you last night?” Enid asked later. “I was worried.”

“I fell asleep in the graveyard.”

Enid sighed. “That’s what Thing said, but I wasn’t sure if I should believe him.”

Wednesday glanced over at the hand. “We were researching which of my ancestors I might appeal to for spiritual guidance regarding my visions.” Thing cracked a knuckle in solidarity.

“Any luck?”

Wednesday shook her head, stubbornly mute.

Enid patted her back sympathetically and mercifully dropped the subject. They left the dorm together, Enid linking arms with Yoko outside of the cafeteria once they made it down, still in time for breakfast.

Wednesday helped herself to a steaming cup of black coffee and found an empty table to sulk at. At first, she’d been relieved to have a respite from Goody Addams and supernatural annoyances in general, but upon returning to Nevermore from the break, her visions started to leave her with an odd afterburn and felt less clear than before. Morticia had assured her that her gift wouldn’t fade; the symptoms she was experiencing were clearly due to a psychic block.

She needed guidance.

Somebody from our bloodline reaches out from beyond to help us when we’re ready.

The memory of her mother’s soft, sultry words was like acid warming the back of her brain stem. Wednesday was an impatient creature. She’d scoured the school’s records to find out which of her ancestors had been alumni of the school and loyal enough to claim its grounds as their final resting place. For a few evenings, she’d conducted seances in crypts and mausoleums with no success. The graveyard on the east campus grounds had been her last resort.

Thing in tow, they’d scoured the rows for two nights before finding a small group of plots dedicated to Frumps. She would have preferred an Addams, her relationship with Morticia still sour and spiked with resentment even though they’d begun a process of mending fences over the break. Thing had fluttered and tapped out a logical argument in favor of pursuing their last lead and she’d relented.

But something had gone wrong.

Wednesday spent the rest of the next day on edge, plucking short, coarse hairs from the inside of her clothes.

She made her way to the dining hall early, picking at her food. The evening meal typically started at 5 pm and went on until 7 during the week, later on the weekends and on feast days to accommodate the culture of Nevermore’s population.

It was still light out when she asked to be excused, but she didn’t go back to her room; she was wary of how Enid would react. At best, her friend’s werewolf instincts would take over. Thing skittered nervously around her feet once they reached the graveyard. She took out her phone and began snapping pictures of the headstones, then tucked it into her blazer pocket and folded it, hiding it behind one of the more prominent slabs.

As the sun began to set, she felt her skin loosening, her bones bending.

Xavier didn’t consider himself an optimist by any means, but the next night, he left the window open again. He’d saved the glass dish from his pudding after dinner and washed it out in the bathroom sink, filling it with clean water and sliding it under the bed next to his pillow. Ajax and Kent had invited him to stay up all night playing video games, but he’d declined, claiming that he hadn’t been sleeping well.

Night fell. He took a shower and sat down at his desk, planning to sketch until he was tired enough to go to bed.

Almost an hour after dark, he heard the weirdly flat-pitched mew again. The cat flashed its teeth at him in the window opening before bolting in. Xavier slowly lowered himself to the floor. When he peered under the bed the cat was crouched behind the pillow. “I’m going to leave the window open for you every night,” he promised.

It blinked placidly at him.

He went back to his sketchbook. After a few minutes, he heard a very quiet lapping, followed by a half growl, half sneeze.

“I wouldn’t have assumed you were a cat person,” Wednesday remarked stiffly as she slid into her usual seat in the science classroom.

Xavier shrugged, twitching his palm over the drawing he’d been working on. The sleek black feline came to life, baring its teeth and darting over the table. Truthfully, there were a lot of things about cats that appealed to him: chiefly their aloofness, grace, and independence.

🐈‍⬛

Judging by its movements, the cat was probably a good hunter, but the next night, he saved a bit of his baked chicken from dinner and shredded it onto a little plate he’d stolen from the breakfast spread. The cat stared at it for a long time as if offended, but the next morning the plate was clean.

Encouraged, he started to make a habit of saving a bit of whatever protein was served at dinner. The cat still spent the entire night under his bed, but it was less skittish when it entered after a few nights, taking a more graceful path from the open window. He’d even managed to discover from a glance that the cat was female. Xavier made no move to touch her, though he wished he could, especially to prevent her from leaving dirty paw prints on his sketches.

On Monday night over a week after the cat first sought refuge in his room, it was so windy that he had to fold out the armature that propped the window open; he could usually afford to leave a bigger opening without it. When the cat didn’t appear at the usual time, he started to get worried, though there had been a couple of nights when it hadn’t shown up.

The cat squeezed through the opening before lights out, yowling in protest and flicking its paw, slicked with mud. “Shit!” Xavier reached to intercept it as it leapt down onto the desk, scooping it up with his hands and forearms. The sinewy body wiggled frantically against his hold until he dropped it on the bed, biting back a yelp; it had dug its claws into his hand. The cat hissed at him and dropped to the floor, slinking under the bed. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured. “Your claws are like knives.”

The cat made an odd sound, almost like a purr.

“Huh. Knives.”

The cat blinked at him.

He sighed. “Sorry, I just didn’t want you to ruin it.” He lightly touched the sketch he’d been working on. The cat came out from under the bed and leapt up onto the chair. Xavier sucked in a breath, awed. He’d never had pets growing up; the cat’s dark fur looked so soft, and despite the stinging pain, he wasn’t angry.

She put a paw on the surface of the desk, stretching. Her whiskers quivered in curiosity.

“That’s Wednesday,” he explained, inching the drawing closer. “She’s… I’m in love with her.”

The cat spat an unmistakable scoff and sat back, averting its gaze.

Xavier laughed. “I know. She’s a literal nightmare. I don’t even think we’re really friends.” He tucked the picture away into a leather folio. It was his favorite likeness so far; it captured a pensive moment, her shoulders and brow tense. “I probably wouldn’t be breathing if she really hated me, though, so there’s that,” he added wistfully. She wasn’t disingenuous enough to tolerate him; it would be a waste of her time.

The cat gave a halfhearted mew in what he imagined was agreement before disappearing under the bed.

Wednesday watched the mud swirl down the drain. Enid had heard her come in, but thankfully she’d managed to duck into the bathroom before her roommate noticed that her hair was loose and that she was wearing Xavier’s shirt. She rolled the worn grey cotton into a ball and tucked it under the sink, stuffing it into the corner.

It had been risky to stay so late, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. Watching Xavier put on the cloth Band-Aid without any antibiotic ointment made her anxious. Her research was mainly focused on breaking the curse; it hadn’t yielded any information about what her cat teeth and claws could do. Real cats had venom that could cause infections and ignite rabies in the human bloodstream.

She packed a basic first aid kit along with her textbooks, just to be safe.

“Did your art come to life and attack you again?” Wednesday asked the next day, seeing his hand. He’d slapped a bandage over it, but the cuts were deeper than he’d originally estimated.

“Not this time.”

“Let me see.” Hesitant, he set his hand down on the lab table between them. Wednesday ripped the bandage off, making him wince. “It’s not infected,” she muttered, sounding relieved. The tense line of her shoulders dropped. Xavier felt his heart stutter. She reached in her bag and rummaged around until she found what she was looking for, then flicked the faucet on and took his wrist to guide it under the stream. “You didn’t even clean this properly, did you?” she scolded, lathering a bit of antibacterial soap over it and massaging deep into the tissue. Afterward, she smoothed a cream over it that only stung a little, then carefully sealed his skin together with wound closures, working quickly to avoid getting caught by their teacher.

When she was done, she gave his palm a brief, gentle squeeze, burning cold.

🐈‍⬛

Xavier let the cat sniff at his hand to examine the row of sutures. “I think she was actually worried about me,” he admitted out loud, remembering how focused she’d been, the surprising tenderness in her touch. “You wouldn’t think so by looking at her, but she cares about people. Sometimes she cares so intensely that it feels like she has tunnel vision.” He pulled a packet of rubber gloves out of his bag. Wednesday had advised him to get some from the nurse to keep the wound dry for at least a few days.

He took off his shirt and tossed it on the bed, shaking his hair loose. It felt weird to shower with a single glove on, but he bore it, securing a hair tie around his wrist to keep it in place.

Afterward, he cleaned up his notes and textbooks and found clothes to sleep in, retelling the story of how Wednesday’s single-mindedness last term landed him behind bars. The cat watched and listened silently from under the bed, huffing a soft growl. “Goodnight, Knives,” he said softly, pulling his quilt back and snapping off the light on his bedside table.

🐈‍⬛

“Ajax has had enough of hearing me pine over her,” he said a few nights later. “He threatened to stone me.” The cat, whether interested or not, had begun to spend more time out in the open to listen to him, even settling on the bed for a few minutes at a time, opening her mouth in a wide yawn.

Wednesday skipped dinner the next day and the next in favor of doing extensive research on both her Frump ancestors and postmortem curses in the library. She tried channeling her psychic power by touching the headstones to trigger visions, but nothing happened. She hadn’t had a vision in almost a month. Her legacy status would allow her to stay at Nevermore, but she had decided to keep her new abnormalities to herself.

The next new moon drew closer. After a few months and transformations, Enid was more comfortable in her werewolf form, but she still had anxieties. A few days after the windy night, she voluntarily put herself in the care of the lupine counselor and spent the night in the cages for the weekend. Wednesday felt unexpected guilt at not being able to keep her company, but she was able to make the excuse that she hadn’t been able to study for midterms. As consolation, she allowed Enid to hug her tightly in parting.

Thing scampered around nervously as darkness approached, but she was relieved to get to sleep in her own bed. Last week, Enid spent the night with Yoko but had been back shortly after dark for her stash of sheet masks. Wednesday had to curl herself into a tight ball behind her pillow, hoping that the other scents in the room would mask her cat smell, hoping it would fade once she was herself again.

She undressed and sat on her bed. The sudden snap of her back breaking and bending into a more flexible stretch made Thing shudder and reach out to her. She hissed in response. The pain of the transformation wasn’t the worst part of the curse.

The morning after the second night, she woke up on the bathroom floor, Xavier’s shirt clutched to her chest.

Thing flicked a teasing finger, dancing across the cold bathroom tile.

"Don't," she growled at him.

🐈‍⬛

When Enid returned to their room on Saturday, Wednesday went back to the graveyard and stayed all day, pouring over the records she’d found in the alumni office. When night fell, she thought about staying there but eventually, she grew restless.

I’m going to leave the window open for you every night.

She thought about the low, warm space under Xavier’s bed and the pillow that smelled like linseed oil and sandalwood and the sweat of his nightmares. She thought about clean water in the little glass dish and meat shredded carefully by his fingers.

Through the haze of her anger with the curse, the way it wrestled with its hold on her, it was a relief not to be fussed over, to be given her basic needs.

Xavier was at his desk as usual when she scaled up the tree whose branches delivered her to his window. He didn’t look up immediately when she slipped through, but the vein in his forehead twitched in awareness. His bedclothes were rumpled and the lamp on the bedside table was overturned. An irritated yowl emanated from her throat.

He sighed. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “I’ve been having some nightmares.”

She scratched at his leather folio, but he pulled it back and put it away.

He didn’t speak to her at all before bed, silently working through a set of practice questions for his statistics midterm. When he got into bed, Wednesday paced for a minute under it before leaping up. The mattress was softer than hers. Xavier stared at her. Cautiously, he extended his hand. The wound was healing. She flicked her tail and let the feline melt over, weigh her down. Xavier gasped a hitched, happy sound when she licked his thumb, answering her rare affection with a caress over the top of her head with curled fingers.

Xavier woke up just once that night, but Knives’ warmth tucked against his leg grounded him and he fell right back into a dreamless slumber.

Midterms started. Even Kent buckled down his focus, bullied by Bianca and Divina. Lunchtimes turned into debriefs and last minute cram sessions for the next test. Wednesday was the only one who seemed satisfied with her performance, though when everyone else was occupied, he leaned over and whispered, “Be honest: those were the hardest exams you’ve ever taken, weren’t they?”

She glared at him, but there was a heatedness in it that felt probing, not hostile. Sometimes he felt like their conversations were charged in a way he’d never had with Bianca, whether by her design or not. With Wednesday, he felt like he could say the wrong thing if he wasn’t careful; the thrill of that made him love her more.

“I’ll never admit that,” she shot back.

He grinned, knowing what she really meant. She sat up straighter, clearly flustered. His fingers itched to draw her like that. Like he could get to her, too.

🐈‍⬛

Unable to bear their conversation, Wednesday left her lunch, muttering about wanting to be early for her next class. Once she was far enough out of earshot, Enid leaned over the table.

“Something is up with her,” she whispered frantically. “She’s been skipping dinner and she hasn’t been sleeping in our room for like, two weeks.” Everyone else at the table barely reacted to her concern. “The other night she came back at the asscrack of dawn. Butt. Naked!” she hissed. Kent choked on his oatmeal and Divina thumped his back. “She just stood there in the middle of the room, lecturing me.” She stiffened her posture and imitated Wednesday’s deadpan speech, “Nudity is nothing to be ashamed of or be scandalized about.” Yoko snickered. “When I asked her if she’d been with a boy, she freaked out and said it was none of my business.”

“I’d really rather not know,” Bianca uttered. “But since it’s Addams, we’ll find out eventually and get dragged into it.” A few others at the table grumbled in agreement.

Xavier pushed his lunch tray aside.

He had noticed Wednesday leaving the dining hall early lately when she bothered to show up, eating smaller portions. He’d chalked it up to her not being social, as usual. She’d also offhandedly mentioned a research project on her ancestry. Knowing her, she was getting obsessive about it. Since the beginning of the new semester, he’d done his best to just be Wednesday’s friend and ally if she needed. She seemed to appreciate it, gravitating toward him when she was feeling sociable. They’d developed a straightforward, transparent rapport that he didn’t have with anyone else. For the rest of the day, he was distracted. Fortunately, his next class was his strongest subject.

He barely reacted when Knives came in that night. Uncharacteristically, she lingered at the foot of his bed, flicking her tail.

“Something’s up with Wednesday,” he confided. “Enid thinks she’s hooking up with someone, but I doubt it.”

Jealousy had been flaring in his chest all day at the impossibility; when they came back from the break, a vampire boy had propositioned her and she’d throat-punched him. There were others, too. Wednesday was beautiful and intelligent and someday she was going to let someone tell her. From the way she talked about her parents, she refused to even fathom what love could be.

Still.

Something was bothering her.

His dad had taught him something about feeling out psychic energies. Wednesday’s felt more clouded and tighter than he expected for her. “She’s only closed off on the surface,” he said in the darkness, feeling Knives purr against him. “She should feel like being swallowed by a void as dark as her eyes. Her energy should feel pure and cutting.” He wanted to help her but was wary of offering himself. Instead, he took his phone from the drawer in his nightstand and spent a few restless minutes composing a text. In the dark, Knives watched him, her eyes flashing brightly.

Wednesday picked at her dinner. Sometimes her appetite eluded her until later in the evening, when she could enjoy the same thing, but cold and shredded. She withdrew her phone from her bag and swiped her thumb over it.

Do you need help with anything?

Her conversation thread with Xavier was short. A few weeks into the early break, she’d sent him a short status report on her probationary status with the school board. Later, they exchanged a few messages about their schedules for the new term.

She started to type a response, but then deleted it, struggling to match his frankness.

The dorm mother barely acknowledged when she asked to be excused, but Enid surprised her by cutting her conversation with Yoko short to follow her. Two days after the full moon, her roommate was radiating confidence. She strode ahead and cut her off in the hallway.

“Meeting up with Xavier again tonight?”

Wednesday stopped in her tracks. “What.”

“I found one of his shirts under the sink and another under your pillow.” Wednesday felt her blood run cold, a normally pleasant sensation. “What I don’t get is how Xavier is keeping it to himself. He’s obviously in love with you. He should have your name branded on his skin for everyone to see.”

Wednesday bit her lip. It wasn’t an inaccurate assumption. It tasted almost sweet in her imagination. “It’s not what you think.”

“What is it, then?”

Thing scuttled across her shoulders and started signaling. Wednesday snatched him up and stuffed him in her bag, muttering a few scalding words. “Let’s get back to our room before it gets dark.”

🐈‍⬛

“Why haven’t you told anyone?” Enid asked when she was done explaining. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I thought we were best friends!

“You told me last month that you were having trouble keeping your hunting trigger under control around small animals, and I know you still have PTSD from your first time wolfing out.”

Enid sighed, looking down at her nails, fighting them down from their sharp points. “That’s… fair, I guess.”

“If any of the staff found out, they’d call my parents,” Wednesday continued, eager to steer the conversation to where it was inevitably heading. “I’m going to resolve this myself. I think I know which of my ancestors is responsible.” She took out her notes, an old newspaper clipping on top. “Renata Frump. She had the ability to take the shape of any animal whose anatomy she understood. Clearly, I offended her in some way when I appealed for guidance with my visions.”

“Is that how Xavier got involved?”

“It’s getting dark,” Wednesday said, retreating to her side of the room. “I’ll change any minute now.”

“Wednesday, does Xavier even know?” Enid asked, her voice pitching up into a panic.

🐈‍⬛

The next morning, Wednesday woke to the werewolf standing over the bed, holding out her bathrobe. Wednesday pulled it on wordlessly. At least twice during the night she’d considered sneaking out, but Thing had used his one advantage over her in her cat form and locked the windows.

“So Xavier thinks he’s been taking care of a stray cat this whole time. Wednesday, You could have heard – or seen! – something he isn’t willing to share with you.”

“I never watched him undress.”

Enid’s pale blonde eyebrow shot up. Wednesday felt a prickling embarrassment come over her thinking back to the times Xavier had shed his clothes on the bedroom floor on his way to the shower, how she curled up on his shirt to reserve it for herself. He’d remarked how cute it was, how even though he would never presume to think of himself as her owner he knew that cats often displayed such possessive, self-soothing behaviors. She hugged her thin robe around her, too prideful to ask what her roommate had done with the shirts.

“You’ve been lying to him. It’s an invasion of his privacy. It’s manipulative.”

Wednesday clamped her mouth shut, stung. Enid’s tenacity was impressive. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of it that way, but it was true. It was almost worse than what Bianca had done, now that she knew the truth about that. Xavier had confessed to Knives in detail about the unsteady friendship he was building with his siren ex.

“You need to tell him,” Enid insisted firmly.

“Once I resolve this, he never has to know,” she countered.

Enid said nothing, but it was obvious from her stony expression that she was disappointed. More troubling than that, she could feel their bond of trust fracturing.

🐈‍⬛

As she packed up her things at the end of the science exam, Xavier reached out and lightly touched her elbow. “Wednesday.” She realized that she hadn’t yet answered his text.

“Thank you,” she said abruptly. “For noticing I need help.”

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he replied. His shoulders relaxed and he stepped aside to allow her egress from their table.

She glanced over her shoulder on her way out; he was still watching her with an open expression.

🐈‍⬛

That night, Enid continued to avoid her at dinner, but she did text her to say that the shirts were in the wash. Wednesday paced their room as the sun began to set, weighing the decision that had come to her.

She quickly hammered out a note on her typewriter and handed it to Thing with instructions to slip it under Yoko’s door before she began to strip, shedding her underwear and freeing her braids as she stepped out onto the balcony.

Xavier woke up a little after 7. It was still dark out. He stirred, taking care not to startle the cat, curled into the obtuse angle of his legs, her paw resting against his calf. She flexed, lightly stabbing him through the thin quilt. He grinned sleepily and reached to caress the hollow behind her ears. She blinked at him, leaning into the touch.

“Even you slept in today,” he marveled. It was Sunday. He’d been planning on going for a run, but Knives was warm, and it was quiet. Midterms were officially over; his dormmates had been celebrating all weekend. “We can stay like this as long as you want,” he offered, hopeful.

The cat yawned, stretching over his discarded shirt. She knocked her head against his hand. He laughed, breathless. “Okay,” he acquiesced. He stroked down the back of her neck to knead between her shoulder blades a few times. When he was sure she wouldn’t move, he shifted himself a little higher on his pillow, cupping the top of her head in his palm.

A weak wash of light filtered into the room.

Knives’ head grew colder and gradually expanded, the dense fur giving to silky tresses. Her eyes went dark, looking up at him, and her body convulsed, spine shaking out in violent jolts. Every cell of feline melted away. Xavier sprang back and off the bed, knocking his lamp off the nightstand.

“Good morning, Xavier,” Wednesday said, her voice raw from sleep.

Xavier gaped, then turned his gaze abruptly away from her completely nonplussed nakedness. When he didn’t return her greeting, she pulled at the fabric she’d been sleeping on, puzzling out the arm holes with a tight frown. Once she had it on, it pooled into her lap. It occurred to him that his other shirts hadn't gone missing in the wash as he’d originally suspected.

“It’s been you. The whole time,” he rasped after a long pause. She tugged on an errant strand of hair; it was loose and ribbed with striations from her braids. He didn’t even bother trying to relax the tension in his body. “Wednesday. What the fuck.”

“I would have thought you’d be pleased to have me in your bed.”

He blushed hotly. “Get out.”

“Xavier,” she said sincerely, “I know I’ve betrayed your trust.”

“Get out,” he repeated, weaker.

She rose from the bed, lingering. “You have every right to be angry.” She blinked a few times, wringing the fabric of his shirt over her abdomen. He’d never seen her nervous before. He dared hope that she might actually feel the weight of what she’d done.

“I need to process this,” he said finally. “I don’t want you in my room.”

She nodded mutely and left, disappearing down the hallway with the stealth of a cat.

🐈‍⬛

He skipped breakfast but scooped something for lunch he could take back to his shed and spent most of the day there, reflecting on every vulnerability he’d unwillingly given.

I’m in my shed, he texted.

Wednesday must have been at the edge of campus already. She arrived less than ten minutes later, breathless.  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Xavier, I’m sorry.”

“I believe you, but I don’t know if I can accept your apology.” She leaned against the door, her jaw set. It was strange to see her upset over the possibility of hurting him. He looked down at the thin scar on his hand. “You weren’t supposed to know all of that about me.”

“None of it?” she said quietly.

“I wanted to tell you, Wednesday.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He dug his thumb into the bristles of the brush he was holding, staining his skin black. “I’m totally fine loving you like this. If I had to tell you, if I had to confront it, I feel like I might start to get over you.”

Her hands curled into fists and she looked away, blinking. “I see.”

“Wednesday, I – “

“It’s almost nightfall,” she interrupted. Her eyes were wet, the bottom lashes dark.

He frowned. “Wait. You – you can’t control it?”

“I’ll explain later,” she said in a rush.

“Wednesday!”

She bolted out into the woods, back toward campus.

🐈‍⬛

He carefully gathered her clothes and her phone and set them in front of her door when no one answered. When he opened the door to his room, he half hoped that she would be there, but even though he left the window open all night, there was no sign of her.

The school day seemed longer than usual. With exams over, the teachers eased back into lecture mode. Results for midterms were posted; Wednesday topped every subject, only narrowly followed in two subjects.

During breakfast, she swallowed her pride and spread her findings about her curse over the table. Her friends each took a few pages. Divina handed hers back covered in sticky notes with suggestions, Bianca texted her an image of a plant in the greenhouse that she speculated could give her temporary relief. Xavier offered no advice of his own, but gradually throughout the day he closed the distance between them.

“I might know how to unclog your psychic blockage, if that helps.”

“Please,” she murmured, genuine.

“Skip class with me.” She followed him to the Nightshades library and followed patiently as he guided her through a passage lined with books, taking the ones he presented to her. “The sun sets in 3 hours,” he warned before leaving her.

🐈‍⬛

Meet me here.

The dropped pin was just outside Nevermore's east wing.

It was still light out when he got there, but Wednesday looked composed and relieved to see him. “I had a vision when I touched her epitaph,” she said. “I think it worked.”

The old texts he’d given her were on the ground by her feet, journals kept by Nightshade psychics of years past. Their words were the most honest testament to the craft that he knew, and several of them detailed similar problems along with strategies and theories as to where and how blocks originated. It spoke of her growth that she’d taken it seriously, that she’d been willing to accept that they might know something about her that she couldn’t touch.

She held her hand out to him. “I know you haven’t absolved me of my sins yet,” she said softly. He threaded their fingers together. He didn’t let go until they were in the foyer of Ophelia Hall, well after dark.

Xavier left the window open as spring rolled in, soft and forgiving.

On a Friday before the end of April, Wednesday knocked on his door. “Renata came to me,” she said. “I wanted you to be the first to know.” She was holding one of the later volumes of the Nightshade psychic books in her hands. There were a few blank pages in it that she’d begun to fill with her own cramped, narrow writing.

“Congratulations,” he said, meaning it.

“May I come in?”

He looked down the hall. “It’s almost lights out.”

“I had Thing provide a distraction.” He stepped aside. Wednesday kept to the foot of the bed, using the frame to steady herself. “Do you know why I kept coming back?”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I didn’t know, the first night, that I would change back at sunrise. I was frightened.” He tried to imagine what it had been like for her, to have her whole world ripped inside out. “When I saw that your window was open, I was relieved. I knew I could be safe, at least while I made sense of what had happened to me.”

“So why did you keep coming back?”

“Because I wanted to.” It was such a Wednesday thing to say he couldn’t help but smile at it. She actually smiled back, a fleeting thing that made his heart clench.

“I miss having you here,” he breathed.

She let the book fall onto the bed and took a step toward him, then another. He matched it until they were standing close enough to touch. “May I stay tonight?” she ventured.

He cradled the side of her head, stroking down to the nape of her neck. “Why do you think I left the window open?”

🐈‍⬛

She took off her shoes first, deftly undoing the knot in her laces. She peeled off her stockings next, rolling them into loose clusters. Her tie followed. When she undid the top button of her blouse, Xavier broke out of the trace.

“Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?” he asked, embarrassed at the way his voice cracked.

She smirked triumphantly. “One of your shirts.”

“Am I going to get it back?” he chuckled, releasing the last of his resentment for her.

She shrugged, letting her skirt drop to the ground. Without her thick-soled combat boots, she was much shorter than him. He took out the first shirt that he found in the drawer. She tucked a finger between her breasts to unclasp her bra, then stepped out of her underwear. Xavier allowed himself a single, penetrating glance, committing her to memory to put to page later. Wednesday pulled the shirt over her head.

They fell asleep tucked against one another, her blunt nails kneading into his ribs.