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It was February 1st, two weeks before that most beloved-and-hated day of the entire year, Valentine’s Day. The snow that had blanketed Mystic Falls was no longer fun and new, but instead tedious and tiresome. Spring seemed like a fever dream—cabin fever, to be exact. It was also the monthly meeting of the Salvatore School Sewing Club (Lizzie Saltzman, Founder).
As the witches slowly trickled into the Coven Room, Lizzie surveyed their supplies. Someone had accidentally melted another pair of pinking shears. It looked like someone had raided their supply of pins and needles—either for a prank or for stabbing into a poppet or other effigy, she wasn’t sure. All the fun floral patterns of cloth they’d used last spring and summer were gone; most of the remaining bolts of cloth were solids—so last year!—or winter patterns…and they were trying to escape winter, not embrace it. The blonde sighed. Worse, she knew the status of their bank account: bordering on empty. And as much as she was able to bend her father to her will, no amount of pleading or promises was going to convince the man to cough up more money for extracurriculars, especially not Muggle ones. He should be glad they kept busy with simple pastimes instead of burning down the school or breaking things left and right like the werewolves, but, no, daddy dearest was set in his ways, she’d learned the hard way. So the sewing circle would need to fundraise to replenish their supplies.
Just as Lizzie was about to call the meeting to order and explain their predicament, an unexpected figure snuck into the room. Unexpected—and unwelcome. Penelope Park!
“What the hell are you doing here, Satan?! This is Sewing Club, not a circle of hags and crones working on their hexes, or a Villains Anonymous.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that; you’re here, after all,” the raven-haired witch retorted. “But maybe I wanted to make a new blouse to help catch someone’s eye,” she added, wagging her eyebrows.
“Never going to happen, Park; she’s over you. So leave…or if you insist on staying and ruining the one nice thing in my life, shut up,” the blonde threatened.
Penelope moved her hand across her lips in a zipper motion, but somehow she still managed to look like she was smirking. Getting under Lizzie Saltzman’s skin almost wasn’t fun anymore for the ravenette; she was too good at it.
The Saltzman twin took a deep breath before continuing. “As I was about to explain before I was so rudely interrupted by Satan over there”—she glared in Penelope’s direction—“our supplies are running low—cloth, needles, thread, you name it. And someone melted the pinking shears…again.”
Sighs and groans echoed through the room. They had all gathered to sew, to create with cloth, but it seemed like there was no chance of that happening—not today, not for the foreseeable future.
“We need a fundraiser,” Lizzie announced, surprisingly upbeat about the prospects.
Heather piped up. “Valentine’s Day is coming up; we should do something related to that. It’s far enough away yet that we can organize something, but close enough that we won’t have to wait long to restock our supplies. Maybe sell roses, or chocolates?”
Lizzie was suddenly less enthusiastic, the suggestion reminding her that she was painfully single at the moment. She didn’t even have any solid prospects for the Valentine’s Day Dance.
“Ooh! Ooh!” Dorothy jumped in at this point. “We can have a Secret Santa Cupid-like sale, where someone can write a little note and we’d deliver their gift on Valentine’s Day. They can choose green for friendship, red for love, or white for secret admirer…”—the witch lowered her voice for the last two words, making them sound very much like a whispered secret—“and Lizzie can get us access to everyone’s room number for the deliveries.”
“Cupid Secret Santa? What?!” The blonde was confused; what Dorothy had described sounded nothing like a Secret Santa gift exchange, and only tangentially related to Cupid.
Rika spoke up to clear up Lizzie’s confusion. “Candygrams! We did this exact fundraiser at my old school. The Candygrams were a huge hit. Everyone has a friend, someone special, or a crush they want to send a Valentine to…a rose, a little bit of candy…”
The room filled with excited chatter as Rika’s clarification helped everyone understand the potential of the fundraiser. Anyone watching could see the wheels in Lizzie’s brain turning as she mulled the new possibility.
Penelope wanted to remind them about the luck they’d had with Cupid before—she had heard from her spies about the heart-eating member of the Erotes that attacked the school after she left for Belgium—but the look of death the ravenette received from Lizzie when she started to part her lips caused her to reconsider that course of action.
Instead, the blonde called the question. “All those in favor of Dorothy and Rika’s Candygram idea…” A chorus of yeas filled the room and cut off the end of her sentence. “Objections?” Silence. “So it’s settled; we’ll run a Candygram sale before Valentine’s. We can raid the rose garden…yellow for friendship, red for love, and white for secret admirer. Include matching Hershey’s Kisses for candy. Charge five dollars each.”
Linda interjected, disbelieving. “No one’s going to pay five dollars for a rose and a handful of common chocolates. You can get an entire dozen for about three times that!”
“Sure they will; just you watch. We’ll handle delivery to the dorm room and everything; that convenience is worth more than the difference. Trust me, it’s a steal.”
Penelope found herself wanting to say something along the lines of ‘Are you going to hex everyone who doesn’t buy one at that crazy price?’ but she bit her tongue, remembering the death glare earlier…and that had come before the other witch had gotten Lizzie riled up.
The blonde continued outlining the club’s plans (or her plans for the club). “We’ll set up a table outside the Great Hall during meals for the week before Valentine’s. We can all work shifts.” The Saltzman twin began handing out assignments to the other witches, except she still didn’t know most of their names, so she accomplished the task by pointing and using the name of one of the witches of Oz.
“Elphaba, you get the table and the cashbox. Glinda, you’re in charge of the supplies for people ordering a Candygram; we’ll need a bunch of small, completely blank greeting cards, strands of yellow, red, and white ribbon…and a bunch of pens. Lurline, you’re helping me with the rose garden; we need those suckers producing, and you’re the best at plant magic other than my sister. Theodora, you’ve got Thursday. Nessarose, Friday. Locasta, you’ve got Saturday. Singra, Sunday. Mombi, Monday’s yours. Tattypoo, Tuesday, and Ozma will cover Wednesday. Then we’ll all meet Wednesday evening to assemble and distribute.”
“Evanora!” Linda hissed under her breath at the blonde Saltzman bossing them around.
“At least she almost got your name right, and you got to be a good witch,” Heather whispered to her friend. “I’m the wicked witch that never had a name in the Famous Forty.”
“What about me?” Penelope inquired. “I didn’t hear you call ‘Satan,’” the ravenette smirked.
“One, I still don’t know what in the hell you are doing here…but more importantly, I don’t trust you, Satan,” Lizzie glowered.
“What’s your sister doing out in the rose garden in the snow?” Hope wondered, glancing over at Josie as the pair walked down one of the many windowed hallways overlooking the rear grounds. “And she’s got Rika with her.”
“At least they’re half-penguin and can tolerate the snow,” Josie smiled, noting the other witch’s fondness for the antarctic animal. “Lizzie said it was some sort of project, and if it weren’t for Rika’s presence, I’d be worried about the roses.”
“A green thumb your sister is not,” Hope joked. Josie playfully shoved her shoulder into the auburnette’s. “Hey, you know it’s true.”
“Twin code; I can’t let you disparage her without retaliation, even if what you say is true,” the brunette chuckled.
“She’s still holding that over you?” Hope asked softly.
“Lizzie isn’t quite as forgiving as you, Hope,” the brunette answered with a soft smile. Josie thought of how the other teen had completely jumped over the fact the siphon had been responsible for the years of enmity between the three of them and instead focused on the fact the brunette had held a crush on her. As if on cue, her little plant-loving heart fluttered…it was not just plants she loved. And the crush was not something that had been confined to the past. As she and Hope had become closer battling Malivore, monsters, and all that mess, Josie’s pre-teen crush had flared up. It burned steadily, to this day.
But Hope was her best friend. Yes, she’d eventually learned that Hope, too, had harbored a brief crush on her around the same time…but that was it, ‘had’ and ‘brief.’ There was never any indication that the gorgeous auburnette had reciprocated her feelings after that point…especially after things had gotten…messy…between them. So it was better to bury her feelings deep down and keep her friend in her life in the only way possible.
Hope looked over at the gorgeous brunette, who seemed lost in thought. The auburnette wondered what her best friend was pondering…Josie seemed to do that often, disappear into her head for long spells. Not that Hope could blame her. There was something about Josie Saltzman that made Hope’s mind float off into the clouds, like she was some schoolgirl with a crush. She didn’t get crushes…not anymore, for sure. Every crush she ever had ended up breaking her heart…Roman, Landon…she didn’t know if she could count that crush on Josie years ago, but if she did, it was close enough, with the way the brunette had turned to stone and acted like Hope was some monster shortly thereafter, which…hurt.
Now, of course, she knew that her favorite Saltzman had (accidentally) burned up half of Hope’s room and spread those lies in order to hide her own crush on the auburnette…and every time the tribird thought of the moment when the truth had come out, her heart couldn’t help flutter, and a sweet smile would spread across her face…just like was happening now. Outside of her own family, no one had ever made the teen feel so loved. But this went beyond even that; with Josie, it felt like she was desired. The brunette had torpedoed everything in order to keep the attraction she felt for Hope hidden…or safe. That story felt like something out of the ancient Greek myths, like Orpheus traversing Hades to rescue Eurydice. It was the kind of tale that would be retold for years to come, the bravery and sacrifice Josie had made for love.
Hope knew Josie had moved on, first with Penelope and then with Jade—although both of them had left her…WTF? If you were lucky enough to have Josie Saltzman as your girlfriend, you had to be insane to let her go! Since then, Hope had an inkling that Josie might have feelings for someone else, but her best friend never actually mentioned anything, and Hope wasn’t the kind of friend who demanded to know the gossip or all your secrets. She just wanted Josie to be happy, and hopefully whomever the brunette liked was good enough for her and would take care of her heart. That was what Hope wanted. Still, the idea of Josie with someone else made it feel like there was a little knot in the auburnette’s stomach, and she didn’t quite know what to make of the feeling.
Ten days before Valentine’s Day, posters started appearing all over the Salvatore School…not for the Valentine’s Day Dance (which was traditionally the highlight of that holiday), but for a Sewing Club fundraiser, Candygrams. The posters informed the student body that for $5, you could buy a rose, some number of Hershey’s Kisses, and a card, and the Sewing Club would deliver the collection to the recipient on the morning of Valentine’s Day. It was not just for established couples, either; the posters noted there were options for friendship, love, and secret admirers. By the end of the day, the school was abuzz; the Sewing Witches had outdone themselves, apparently—and Lizzie Saltzman looked like the cat who got the cream.
That Thursday morning, Dorothy sat at a table outside of the Great Hall during breakfast, and a steady stream of students stopped by either to buy a Candygram or to learn a bit more about the process. Pedro plopped ten dollar bills on the table and asked for a friendship and a love. The young witch quickly scrawled messages in each of the cards with attached ribbons, and when he handed them back to Dorothy, one could see that the card with the yellow ribbon was addressed to Lizzie and the one with the red ribbon to Gaby. The sewing witch quickly looked up the room numbers and added them to the back of the cards before dropping them in the ‘Completed’ box and making the first tally marks on the sales log: 1 friendship, 1 love.
On Friday at lunch, MG stopped by the table and deposited a twenty. Clementine handed the vampire three yellow-ribboned cards and one with a white ribbon. When he handed them back, anyone spying on the exchange would have seen that the friendship cards were destined for Josie, Lizzie, and Kaleb, while the fourth was for none other than Ethan Machado.
On Saturday while Cleo was in her studio and MG was catching up on the latest issue of Batman, Kaleb sped over to the table with a ten in hand. Prying eyes would have seen a red-ribboned card on which the vampire had written ‘Cleo, my love, my muse’ and a yellow-ribboned one reading ‘MG, my brother from another mother’ in his finest penmanship. He knew his friend and roommate had been having a…rough was not exactly the right term, but things had been uneven, for sure…time ever since he decided to move on from Lizzie Saltzman and Alyssa turned around and dumped him. Kaleb may have had a reputation for being a tough guy, but he was still kindhearted, and he wanted to make sure MG knew he was appreciated.
Sunday dinner was always slow, which made it the perfect time for Penelope Park to sneak up to the Candygram table. “How’d you like my posters,” the raven-haired witch smirked, waving her hand at one of the many promotional posters that had appeared around campus almost a week ago.
“That was you?” Heather asked, shocked. She knew Penelope’s reputation from her first stint at the school.
“Just trying to do my part to help.”
“Lizzie was gushing…I think she thought Natalia did them, though.”
The ravenette put her finger to her lips in a sign of secrecy, and Heather nodded. Then, in a move that caused the witch behind the table nearly to faint, Penelope dropped a five dollar bill next to the cash box. “White, please,” she requested, doing her best to stabilize her voice.
The prickly witch got to work writing on the inside of the card. Then she produced an old-fashioned metal key, whispered a spell, and pressed the key to the card, at which point it disappeared and a similar-looking drawing of a key appeared on the card next to her words.
“Close your eyes,” the ravenette commanded, and a look of fear came over Heather’s face. “I’m not going to loot the cashbox, or ruin the fundraiser in any way, I swear,” Penelope added, hoping to put the other witch at ease and ensure compliance. “Or hurt you.” When Heather nodded and acquiesced, the She-Devil of Salvatore High flipped the card over and scribbled a room number where it belonged, then flipped the card back so its front cover was facing up. There she delicately wrote a name in her finest handwriting, before pulling out her lipstick, reapplying it, and pressing her lips to the card on top of the inscribed name.
Penelope inspected the result. Nothing like putting your heart out there and hoping it wouldn’t be stomped on like a discarded cigarette butt. She sighed and hoped for the best, and then she dropped the card into the ‘Completed’ box with the other cards that had been purchased that day.
“You can open your eyes now, Heather.” When the other witch did so, confused about where Penelope’s card had gone, the ravenette nodded towards the box. Then her face hardened into a death glare. “Not a word.” Heather nodded rapidly in understanding, and Penelope’s face morphed back to her trademark smile, always hiding a bit of mischief, danger, or dismissal. “Don’t forget to update the tally sheet,” the raven-haired temptress added as she turned and sashayed down the hallway away from the table.
When Heather’s heartbeat finally returned to normal, she dutifully tallied one more secret admirer—while wondering what in the hell had just happened…
On Monday morning, with only three days left, Lizzie stopped by the table. “Sales are going great, Lizzie,” Isabela greeted her cheerfully. Then, noticing the bill in her self-appointed leader’s hand, “Do you want to buy a Candygram?”
Lizzie fought the urge to retort, ‘Why else would I be standing here with a ten dollar bill in my hand,’ and thankfully succeeded. She was trying to be a better person, and making one of her witches cry in the performance of her duties was not on the checklist for success. This freakin’ holiday was hard enough as it was without having a crying underling. She was single, somewhat unhappily so, and she still had no prospects for the Valentine’s Day Dance.
No solid prospects, that is. The blonde was sure Jed was going to ask her, but, no thank you. He was hot, a bit of a bad boy (but with a better attitude these days), but, no, she wanted something with a little more substance, someone who could challenge her but also support her. Dreamy or hot, yes, definite pluses, but, again, Lizzie liked to think she had grown over the past few years and left her ‘hunky men’ phase behind. She’d come around on MG, finally, only to find the vampire was dating Alyssa fucking Chang, of all people. First sucking face with Satan right after she’d broken Josie’s heart, then dating Satan 2.0…she loved MG, but, god, his taste in women was terrible—and that included him crushing on her all those years she took him for granted and refused to give him the time of day.
When she had woken up and opened her eyes, Lizzie could tell that MG had moved on again and was crushing on someone else now. Sadly, for someone who had failed to appreciate him, she did know the vampire so well. So, yeah, no solid prospects for the dance. She’d go stag, maybe dance with Josie some, because her twin might be even unluckier in love. The blonde chuckled to herself. At least they could laugh about their (lack of) love life.
But Lizzie still wanted to let MG know she was here to support him, to be his friend. And Josie…she was her twin, so of course. So, yes, that ten dollar bill in her hand was getting her two friendship Candygram packages. “Two, friendship,” she finally replied to Isabela. After writing sweet notes to each and trying to inspire the witch at the table to even greater sales, the blonde continued into the Great Hall for breakfast.
On Tuesday at lunch, Sabriyah was manning the table with Cleo walked by with Hope. The Yoruba witch grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her towards the table—no small feat with a reluctant tribrid. “Hope, we should to this!” she pronounced excitedly.
“What? No! No, no, no, not me! I’m not going to participate in this commercialization and commodification of love!” the auburnette protested.
“It is for a good cause, Hope…this is the Sewing Club raising money for supplies, not some rapacious giant multinational conglomerate trying to use your heart to greenwash their image.”
Hope looked back at Cleo like the muse had two heads. “Also, what if you send one and the person you like doesn’t sent you one, too? That would be embarrassing…mortifying,” the tribrid added in a soft—frightened?—voice. She attempted to scoff, but the sound of protest fell somewhat flat.
That was when Cleo knew she had a hook. There was someone—though Hope may not even have consciously realized it yet. But the emotion was there, trying to break through, hiding behind her friend’s poorly constructed protests.
“I have eyes in many places, so I happen to know my special someone has already purchased a Candygram for me.”
Hope still demurred. “You’re in a steady relationship.”
“I may not be specially gifted in matters of the heart, but I know that there are those of us out there working our magic to bring together those whose hearts long for each other. You must have faith, Hope.”
“Nope.” Hope shook her head. All those years of trauma had built an armor of scar tissue around the tribrid’s heart, and the only thing she had faith in was that life was going to keep slapping her upside the head and leaving her unlucky in love.
Cleo let out an exaggerated sigh, threw up her hands, and walked over to the table, greeting Sabriyah warmly and exchanging cash for Candygram cards. While Hope waited with a look of amusement on her face, the muse filled out two cards, one with a red ribbon and one with yellow. Once she finished, the witch shot the tribrid a playful glare before the pair resumed their journey to lunch.
Later that afternoon, Cleo sat in her studio in front of a block of clay. She closed her eyes, opened her mind, and drew on her muse powers, searching for the answers to the conundrum at hand. After some time working the clay in a semi-meditative state, the Yoruba witch stopped to examine what she had created. Her hands had fashioned a large wolf (white, she guessed) and a cluster of flowers…black-eyes Susans, if she remembered her botany correctly.
Cleo’s eyes twinkled and the corners of her lips curled into a knowing smile. Inspiration had come once again, and the truth had been revealed.
That night, Hope dreamt of frolicking in a field of yellow flowers while in her wolf form. Even though she bounded through the field, somehow the flowers were always in a pristine state; she never trampled them as she ran and played (even chasing her tail for a short while). Her tongue lolled from her mouth as she rested, letting off built-up heat through evaporation. Suddenly, wolfHope’s nose picked up a scent wafting by on the wind…strawberries and vanilla. In an instant, the great white wolf was back on her feet again, darting through the flowers, following the scent to its source.
Josie! There, on the edge of the field of flowers, near a cool babbling brook, sat the one and only Josie Saltzman. The brunette was kneeling on the ground, planting more yellow flowers…coreopsis, yellow daisies, cosmos, and of course black-eyed Susans. The white wolf dashed over to her favorite human, the equivalent of a giant, playful smile spread across her muzzle.
When Josie realized she was no longer alone, she looked up and her eyes met the wolf’s (who had carefully tip-toed around the newly-planted flowers). The brunette’s face lit up; her chocolate orbs danced and her smile seemed to stretch across the entire sky. “Hope!” the siphon exclaimed excitedly, reaching for the wolf and drawing her onto her lap. Epic petting and cuddles ensued, the flowers long forgotten as the pair basked in each other’s company.
Hope felt a sense of peace wash over her, and a shy smile spread across her sleeping face—the one she reserved only for Josie Saltzman. It would be the best night’s sleep that she had experienced in years, as though the frolicking in the flower field had unlocked something she had not realized was missing from her life and filled a deep gouge in her heart she never thought would be filled.
Directly across the hall, Josie Saltzman awoke on Wednesday morning feeling completely refreshed. It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and she had a spring in her step. The parts of her that she shared with Caroline were on full display: the bright smile exuding joy, the boundless optimism, the irrepressible confidence…not to mention the perfect flower arrangement on her bedside table.
Lizzie would almost be tempted to wonder who the brunette was and what this imposter had done with her sister, except the blonde remembered a time when Josie had been like this, unbound, free and happy—a time before their mother was absent all the time, a time before Penelope Park, a time before they’d learned of The Merge. So whatever it was that had restored her twin to one of the best versions of herself, Lizzie was happy for…even if it somehow was another mythological monster set free by the destruction of Malivore.
Josie Saltzman had made a decision, one that would change her life. Today, she would be brave. She would take a leap of faith. So she was up and ready well before breakfast, and as soon as Priya had set up the Sewing Club’s Candygram table outside the Great Hall, the brunette was there, three five-dollar bills in her hand. “Two friendship”—Lizzie and MG, naturally—“and one secret admirer.”
Priya smiled sweetly at her fellow witch, handing over the appropriately-ribboned cards and then updating the tally sheet. She had to hand it to Lizzie; even at five dollars a pop, it seemed more than half the school had already purchased at least one Candygram. They’d have enough funds after covering expenses to keep the Sewing Club in cloth, thread, and other supplies for a couple of years—and still be able to replace the pinking shears the every time Oryna had a meltdown.
After completing her cards and handing them back to Priya, Josie practically skipped off into the Great Hall for breakfast, a smile adorning her angelic face. Today was going to be a great day. And tomorrow, well, the butterflies were still fluttering in her stomach, but still the brunette had faith that tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—would be a great day, too.
A steady stream of students stopped by the table to purchase Candygrams on the last day—those who had dawdled, or who were on the fence about it—spurred on in part by bold pink “Last Chance” banners that had appeared, sticker-like, on all of the advertising across the school (no doubt Penelope’s handiwork once again).
As dinner drew to a close and Priya was about to pack up the cash box, tally sheet, cards, and unused supplies, marking the end of the fundraiser, one final customer snuck over to the table, a five-dollar bill in her hand. Making her fiercest face, Hope Mikaelson asked for a secret admirer card. It was the most incongruous thing the witch at the table had ever witnessed, but she kept a straight face the entire time. The auburnette quickly filled out the white-ribboned card and returned it to the witch, keeping her warning face on the entire time—or so she thought.
Priya stole a glance at the tribrid’s face while she was writing and saw the softest expression the sewing witch had ever seen; unlike some students, however, she had both a strong sense of self-preservation and the good sense not to even appear to pry, much less dare to reveal what she had witnessed. In fact, the teen preemptively made a ‘zipped lips’ motion as Hope handed over her completed card, and the auburnette acknowledged the gesture with the faintest nod of her head. It was a shame that Priya could never tell anyone, because no one would believe her if she were to claim that the toughest, most prickly student at the school had a secret crush on someone!
What had motivated the fierce and fearsome tribrid to act, albeit at the very last minute, Priya (and the rest of the world) would never know. For Hope, though…something about that dream had convinced her to take a chance, to finally acknowledge she had some sort of feelings for her best friend and to hope that maybe the sweetest witch in the entire world felt the same. That was what she kept telling herself as she made a beeline back to her dorm room, where she had exciting plans for Valentine’s Eve: rearranging all of her illicit grimoires hidden under the floorboards.
It was seven o’clock, the sun had set on Valentine’s Eve, and Rika had an hour to kill before meeting up with the rest of the Sewing Club for the distribution of the Candygrams. They decided it was enough time to start watching the latest episode of Critical Role, get a good ways in—with luck, to the break—before finishing up after the meeting. The library was empty at this time of day and not too far from the Coven Room…the perfect spot to watch the stream in peace. (Oh, if only!)
No more than five minutes into the episode, Lizzie burst into the room, her hair flying wildly behind her. “There you are! C’mon!”
“Uh, Lizzie? Hello to you, too? Is your watch broken? We have…55 minutes before the distribution meeting.”
By now Lizzie had made her way to Rika’s side, where the siphon became momentarily distracted by the stream playing on their laptop. Watching a blonde—who seemed vaguely familiar, maybe from one of MG’s superhero movies?—roll dice and react to the scenario, the Saltzman twin felt words slip out of her mouth, “She’s hot.”
“That’s Ashley Johnson, she plays…”
“Never mind the hot blonde,” Lizzie interrupted, once again not completely in control of the words flying past her lips, “you’ve got to help me with the roses!”
Rika wondered if Lizzie had somehow gotten lost in time. “I helped you with the roses last week, Lizzie.”
“Yes, getting them to grow and flower. Brilliant job, by the way. But now I need you to help pick them.” With that, she grabbed the dark-haired witch by the arm and nearly yanked them along, barely giving them time to pause the stream and send their laptop back to their dorm room.
As the two approached the rose garden, Rika cast a spell, creating a ball of light to illuminate the February darkness. “Post tenebrās spērō lūcem. Perhaps we should have picked the roses during the daytime,” they added.
Lizzie grumbled. “Then we would have had to close orders after lunch, and I understand we did big numbers at dinner. Everyone was afraid of being the only person at school not to send a Candygram!” the blonde added excitedly. “Let’s see, we need…ow!” She had reached over to inspect a red rose and pricked herself on a thorn.
Rika shook their head…this was going to be a long hour…and hopefully the two of them would still finish before the actual distribution meeting was scheduled to begin. Otherwise, they feared, they’d be left to finish harvesting the desired roses while Lizzie rushed off to start the meeting….
Hope and Josie walked past a row of windows overlooking the rose garden on their way to the kitchen. (The brunette had interrupted Hope’s stimulating evening plans by asking her to come make hot chocolate together…and hot chocolate with Josie was infinitely more exciting than reorganizing forbidden grimoires!)
“What’s your sister doing in the rose garden again? Trying to woo a flower?” the auburnette joked, earning another ‘twin code’ slap from the brunette. The tribrid pressed her luck and continued, “Still no prospects?”
“I keep saying she should go for Penelope,” Josie replied, taking the bait.
“Your evil ex?!”
“Penny’s been on her best behavior since she came back; I’m sure even you have noticed that. And the two of them have much more in common than you think….”
“Hating each other?” Hope laughed, wondering what else the two archenemies could possibly have in common other than that.
This time Josie shoved the tribrid. “Besides that!” she explained, as the one person in the world who knew the two witches best. “They’re both kinda misunderstood.”
“Whatever you say, Jo,” the auburnette chuckled, knowing she would be unable to win this fake argument. Moreover, they had finally arrived at the kitchen, so there were more important matters now at hand anyhow.
“Rika!” Gaby called out to the other witch as they helped Lizzie bring the harvested roses to the Sewing Club’s Candygrams Distribution Meeting. “Are you watching today’s Critical Role stream?”
“I started but was interrupted less than five minutes in,” the older witch replied, nodding to the huge buckets of roses they carried. “After I finish with the Candygrams, though.”
“Wade’s gonna put it up on the big screen in an hour if you want to join us!”
“Oooh! Hopefully we’ll be done by then.”
As Lizzie heard the pair gush over something, she suddenly had the revelation that the hot blonde—why did she keep saying that?!—from the video stream earlier was involved in some sort of D&D game. And it had looked…fun? Did this mean she was going to start sewing cosplay next? Wait…was that even the correct expression? She wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it…kinda sounded appealing, actually. She had no doubt that if she tried her hand at it, she would create cosplays so detailed and precise that everyone would think she had stolen them from the Warner Bros Costume Archive…
The siphon shuddered; was it possible she was turning into a fantasy nerd?! Wherever the Hobbit was, in peace, hell, or Mordor, he would never let her live this down. Please let this be a psychotic break instead of her becoming (even more of) a nerd. First Lord of the Rings, then some comic books, now…this? What was next, locking lips with Satan?! She shook her head, trying to clear the thought, and dashed the rest of the way to the Coven Room.
“OK, everyone, here’s what we need to do,” Lizzie began as she barged into the room, carrying a small bucket of white roses. Rika belatedly brought up the rear, lugging two giant buckets full of roses, one all reds and the other yellows.
Pointing at three tables, the blonde continued, “We’ll divide up and staff the tables. Two of you for the secret admirers, the rest spread out along the friendship and love tables.” She and Rika deposited their buckets on the appropriate tables, with Rika taking their place behind one while Lizzie continued to give instructions.
Gesturing towards the box full of completed cards with ribbons, she added, ”Now we’ll all perform the sorting spell together, to ensure that no one gets a card addressed to them or some other card they shouldn’t know about.” Joining hands, the members of the Sewing Club began chanting the incantation, and the hundreds of ribboned cards flew from the box into the air, dancing around the room. Slowly, one by one the cards landed in front of an individual, creating small piles that were to be that person’s responsibility.
With the sorting complete, Lizzie gave her final set of instructions to the assembled members. “Now you take a card, fill a sachet with six—not seven, not five, and certainly not ten!—Hershey’s Kisses of the matching color, and then use the card’s ribbon to tie the card and the sachet to the rose. Finally, cast ‘chronolos aurōram proximam locī dēstinātī’ while looking at the room number. That’s important, let me repeat: while looking at the room number! Intent matters, so no screwups! That will cause the bundle to appear at the recipient’s room tomorrow at dawn. Rika and I have already treated the roses so they’ll withstand being cut and out of water for 24 hours.” Finally, under her breath, the blonde muttered, “And watch out for the thorns….”
“Uh, Lizzie?” Penelope asked, staring at their fearless leader, “why don’t I have any cards?” Indeed, true to the ravenette’s words, the spot before her at the table was completely devoid of matter.
“I still don’t trust you.”
“Need I remind you that the bad magic juju was all Jojo?” the witch responded, the insult coming out of her mouth before she could stop herself—although as soon as the words had left her lips, Penelope did manage to clap her hand over them. Her default behavior was still to lash out at others—in this case at both Saltzmans—when pushed or poked, and it was hard to break that pattern, no matter how much she wanted to be better.
Lizzie was about to say something when the ravenette threw up her hands and apologized. “Wait. Lizzie, I’m sorry. I…you have every reason not to trust me, I understand that, I do. I’m trying not to throw things back in other people’s faces now, but it’s more difficult with some…I never should have said that, I’m sorry.”
The blonde found herself nodding…she may still not trust the raven-haired witch, but she’d also never known her to apologize for an attack like that. So it was either a long con, or a new leaf, and for all of their sakes—especially if Satan was going to be part of her sewing club—she hoped it was the latter.
When Lizzie realized that everyone had stopped (or never started) working on their stacks of cards and stood transfixed, watching the confrontation play out, she channeled her own inner Mean Girl/Queen Bee. “What are you all waiting for? These Candygrams are not going to send themselves!”
As Lizzie scolded the other members of the club, Penelope slunk out of the room, determined to cause no more problems tonight. She’d screwed up, and she hoped it wouldn’t ruin everything…hopefully tomorrow was a new day.
Lizzie, for her part, felt a pang of guilt in her chest as she got to work on her own pile of Candygrams to send.
Somehow Hope Mikaelson found herself crowded on her bed against Josie Saltzman. She couldn’t explain definitively how it had happened, only that she found it impossible to say no to the brunette, especially not when the siphon deployed her signature pout. So here they were, crammed together on Hope’s bed, watching a documentary on…something about plants? Truthfully, the auburnette was unable to concentrate on the screen, what with the brunette’s shoulder pressed against hers. It was one thing for them to bump shoulders in the halls…that was what friends did, but this…this felt far too intimate. She was thankful Josie did not posses supernatural hearing, or she was certain the witch would hear her heart beating at a ridiculous pitch.
Yet…Hope felt an ache of sorts in her heart, a yearning. This was nice, being here with Josie. Other parts of her felt at peace, in ways she rarely felt. She wished that it would never end, in spite of the awkwardness—that, she wished would end. The tribrid started to daydream about spending her days next to Josie, waking up next to Josie, going to sleep next to Josie…oh, god! She really was in love with her best friend, wasn’t she?
What if the brunette didn’t feel the same? Hope began to panic. Oh, god! The Candygram! That could ruin everything. That…
“Hope…” Josie’s voice, kind and gentle, concerned, broke through the auburnette’s racing thoughts. The brunette’s hand found its way to her friend’s shoulder, too. “…are you OK? You suddenly got antsy.” The siphon did her best to hide her fear, that somehow she had caused Hope to become uncomfortable. Oh, that would break her heart if she had caused the girl she had been crushing on for years any pain. (It would break her heart if the girl she had been crushing on didn’t reciprocate her feelings, didn’t want to be anything more than friends, or, worse, if it ruined their friendship, but she tried not to let her thoughts go there. She was being brave, remember?)
“I…uh…my glutes felt like they were starting to fall asleep,” the auburnette quickly lied. The other girl’s furrowed brows quickly relaxed at the news.
“Maybe we should call it a night and finish the documentary another day?” In truth, Josie had only been half paying attention…or maybe even only one-quarter…as she had been pressed up against Hope on the small bed to watch the program. They had done this sort of thing before, and it had never been this difficult for her to focus. Perhaps it was the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring…the fulfillment of her heart’s desires, or a heart-shattering rejection. Not the latter, hopefully…pun intended.
“Uh…yeah? Your sister will probably be looking for you soon, too, and I’d hate to be accused of cutting into twin time,” the tribrid chuckled, trying to make light of the situation to paper over her fears.
“See you tomorrow, then?”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Hope.”
“Good night, Jo.”
There was a long, lingering gaze between them as the pair separated and Josie left the room. Neither seemed conscious of what they were doing, and it only finally broke when Josie pulled Hope’s door closed behind her. Unbeknownst to each other, they both felt a cool, lingering absence for a few minutes afterward. Perhaps tomorrow that absence would be replaced by warmth.
On Thursday precisely at dawn, hundreds and hundreds of Candygrams magically appeared on desks, vanities, or bedside tables all across the Salvatore School (one each even materialized in the librarian’s office and the counselor’s office). In the Saltzman twins’ dorm room, Josie’s bedside table had three Candygrams, two yellow and one white, while her twin had four (naturally!), three yellow and one white. Across the hall, two Candygrams appeared on Hope Mikaelson’s desk, one yellow and one white.
Not long after sunrise, Lizzie Saltzman’s eyes fluttered open. She yawned, stretched, and felt like rolling over and catching a few more minutes of sleep—it was exhausting work planning and leading this fundraiser!—when her sleep-heavy eyes landed on her bedside table. The blonde squealed and instead swung her bare legs out of bed. She reached over and pulled her blue silk Salvatore School robe over her shoulders before examining the haul of Candygrams. People cared about her! It warmed her heart to know that in spite of her reputation—and her current, and undesired, single status—there were people at the school who loved her enough to send a Candygram.
One by one, the blonde picked up the roses with their sachets of matching Hershey’s Kisses and cards, and she read their messages of affirmation. The first Candygram she picked up was from MG, with the yellow color scheme signifying friendship. The sweet vampire who once crushed on her wished for her to find happiness with someone who could appreciate the wonderful person she was inside…it was a sweet message, but the doubting part of her brain tried to put a negative spin on it that she nevertheless knew the boy did not intend.
Then there was one from Josie, fittingly for her twin also yellow, thanking the blonde for being her first and forever ‘plus one’…ooof, they really did need to work on their love lives. Still, the sentiment was sweet…the twin bond was forever, and even if they had no one else, they’d always have each other. Lizzie looked over at her still-sleeping twin and smiled fondly. “I love you, too, Jo,” she whispered.
Then came another yellow set from Pedro! The sweet gift from the young witch brought a smile to the siphon’s face; she was so lucky to have the boy in her life. The blonde knew that he would save a dance for her tonight, too, even if he was going with Gaby. Lizzie didn’t deserve Pedro, but she was forever grateful to have him as a friend. She smiled brightly and her heart felt warm.
Finally, the blonde reached over to pick up the last Candygram. It was a white rose! Lizzie’s heart started to beat rapidly as her brain tried to wrap itself around the idea of having a secret admirer. On Valentine’s Day, no less! This was perfect! The siphon wracked her brain, trying to figure out who it might be…maybe Valerian, the new brooding, dark-haired, deliciously-accented vampire? Cassian, that almond-skinned werewolf she thought she had caught checking her out after New Year’s? Magnus, the half-Asian witch with a flair and killer style? She really wasn’t sure.
As Lizzie flipped the card over to reveal the front, she saw her name written in the finest penmanship, with bold and delicate flourishes in the vein of Zapfino, but…less precise and more personal. And…there was a bold red lipstick print overtop of the pen strokes! Lizzie’s heart beat even faster…someone was really taken by her! She felt so happy…and desired. It had been a long time since the siphon had felt that way about herself, confident—and not from knocking people down, but from within. It never even registered that the kiss mark meant her secret admirer was likely female…
When Lizzie opened the card to read the inside, her right thumb pressed over an intricately-illustrated old-fashioned key drawn on the lower right of the right inside surface of the card…and the key suddenly popped off the page into her hand. That, however, was not the most shocking thing about the inside of the secret admirer’s card. No, that role fell to the note itself:
My beloved, sweetest Lizzie,
I know the world looks at you and does not see the amazing woman that I do, the one who’s fierce and protective and stronger than anyone thinks, but also funny and soft and kind and who would do anything for the people she loves.
You deserve someone who sees you, the warm gooey center underneath that cold prickly exterior.
You enchant me, you enthrall me…you challenge me to be better.
I, for one, would love to taste your gooey center.
You already have the key to my heart.
Dreaming of your love,
Penelope
“What the fuck?!” Lizzie screamed, tossing the Candygram bundle back on her bedside table like it was radioactive. “Has she lost her fucking mind?!” After a moment, the blonde thrust her hand back out to grab the bundle of items again—poking her fingers on a thorn, naturally. “Ow! Fuck!” She then threw their dorm room door open and stormed out, her blue silk robe barely pulled around her waist, the lower portion flapping behind her like a cape as she ran through the sleepy hallways of the Salvatore School.
Reaching Penelope Park’s door, the siphon threw it open (in her fury, never questioning how that was even possible, although she did have a magic key in her hand) and barged in, rose and note in hand, exclaiming, “What the hell, Satan?!”
Penelope was already up, too, and she rose from where she had been sitting at her vanity in her pink silk Salvatore School robe and sashayed seductively over the to blonde. When she stopped and stood right in front of the siphon, the ravenette licked her lips. She chose her words carefully; she wanted to be snarky, to poke the bear (or the beehive, she wasn’t sure which metaphor fit best), but also—and, in this moment, more importantly—wanted to protect Lizzie’s heart.
The raven-haired witch began to explain, sounding vulnerable, if that were even possible. “It took me a while to figure out…that I was drawn to you, not because I hated you, but because you were someone like me. An outcast, misunderstood, shields up all the time to protect yourself from people who didn’t understand…didn’t see the real you. …And I’m sorry that I was one of those people for you, for so long. But underneath, we have a lot more in common…and not just biting quips. We’re two of a kind, Lizzie Saltzman.
“I came back to do better, to be better. And I know that one apology doesn’t make up for the years of torment or how I treated Josie, but please let it be a start. Please let it be a new start for us.”
Penelope reached out and took Lizzie’s hands in hers, gently, before dropping down on one knee. “Lizzie Saltzman, will you be my Valentine? You already have the key to my heart….” The ravenette groaned internally at her cheesy line even as she waited expectantly, bracing for a slap across the face that, to her surprise, never materialized.
Lizzie Saltzman found herself in a state of shock—and, unusually, without words, as no snarky quip or biting comeback flew off her tongue. She was taken aback and couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Penelope Park, apologizing. Penelope Park, somehow with a window to her soul. Penelope Park, confessing feelings for her?! That look in the She-Devil’s eyes was one that Lizzie had never seen before—anger, spite, greed, revenge, yes, she was familiar with all of those, but this…this was vulnerability, but also flashes of desire?
It had been so long since the blonde had been wanted…if there was a chance, if this was true…if Penelope was telling the truth, she had to take it, right? (Even if it was Josie’s evil ex…?) She shouldn’t—she couldn’t—make same mistake again as she did with MG. She had to take a leap of faith, to believe this wasn’t some elaborate plot Satan had cooked up to embarrass her…and everything her senses were telling her supported the thesis that the Wicked Witch of the SBS was telling the truth…was in love with her.
Lizzie found herself not quite in control of her body’s reactions once more. She pulled the ravenette to her feet and then towards her, their legs slotting together underneath their bathrobes. Their bodies were now pressed tightly together, and the blonde could feel the beating of the other teen’s heart. Her own heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest, where there was also something churning, and a burning sensation on top of that.
The blonde finally managed to speak, with words slipping out of her mouth before she could even comprehend them. (If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn she was compelled, which wasn’t possible…but maybe hexed?) “How about you show me just how serious you are about making things up to me…with a kiss?”
Those words were like an angel’s music—or a siren’s call—to the ravenette. In an instant, Penelope surged her head forward as Lizzie leaned down to meet her. Their lips collided like a supernova, an explosion of passion and repressed, now unbridled, desire. The pair found the points of contact with each other soft and warm and fruity, a forbidden dessert. Their tongues soon crossed the thresholds and entangled, first in one mouth, then in the other, as the duo battled for dominance…. (The axis of emotions between Lizzie Saltzman and Penelope Park may have shifted, but some things would never change!)
Something loud and sharp penetrated the protective bubble of sleep and roused Josie Saltzman from what had to have been peace.
First “What the fuck?! Has she lost her fucking mind?!” and then “Ow! Fuck!”
Those screeches were completely incongruous with the scene in Josie’s mind…warm, bright, calm. She was having that dream again, the one from last night where she was in an endless field of yellow flowers, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. And a large, fluffy white wolf was there with her, too…playful and loving, frolicking while Josie watched, then coming over for tummy rubs and skritches, boops and face licks. Hope! It couldn’t be? But she knew of no other white wolf…
The brunette bolted upright in her bed, eyes flying open, her left hand clutching the talisman Hope had gifted her for her Sweet Sixteen while her right hand swung to make contact with the wall, siphoning magic for a spell…that never left her lips. The teen witch looked around the room and saw nothing unusual, although Lizzie seemed to have already left for the day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Her brown eyes then came to rest on her bedside table—specifically on the three roses with attached card and sachet. She’d gotten Candygrams!
What an amazing way to start off Valentine’s Day. The siphon was giddy as a child on Christmas as she opened the first card, attached to a yellow rose. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day to the best sister a girl could ask for. I love you so much.’ Lizzie! Josie’s heart filled with warmth. Even if she never had anyone else, she’d always have her sister.
The second rose was also yellow, from MG, who left her a superhero-themed message: ‘Happy Valentine’s Day to the best Batgirl a guy could ask for.’ Sure, it was a little corny, but it was sweet and 100% MG. Even if she questioned his taste in women, he was a great friend to have.
The third and final rose, Josie suddenly realized, was white! Her heart started to race; someone had a crush on her! Could it be? Her fingers trembled as she reached for the card, making it hard to flip over, let alone open. Luckily for the brunette, she didn’t need to open the card, as she recognized the handwriting that had addressed the card to her; she would know it anywhere…Hope!
Across the hall, Hope Mikaelson had awakened from a restful sleep to two roses (and associated paraphernalia) on her desk. The one on top was yellow, and the auburnette recognized the distinctive handwriting as Cleo’s, wishing the tribird her heart’s truest desire this Valentine’s Day. A jolt dislodged her heart temporarily…did Cleo know?! Or was that simply Muse-speak?
But then a scent reached the auburnette’s nose…not the scent of roses or chocolates, but strawberries and vanilla…. The second rose…it was white…and it carried the unmistakable scent of Josie Saltzman.
Hope rushed to her door, bursting out into the hallway at the exact same moment as Josie burst out of the opposite door. The pair met in the middle of the hall in their pajamas, hearts—and tears—in their eyes.
“I never knew…” “I couldn’t possibly hope…”
Their words tumbled out in incomplete thoughts, their hearts lodged in their throats and the touch of their fingers electric. The duo, once best friends, now something more, pulled each other in for a longed-for embrace.
“Can I kiss you?” “God yes!”
Hope swore that she saw fireworks around them as their lips pressed against each other for the very first time. There may have been a chorus of angels singing “Hallelujah!” as soft tissue molded around its counterpart. The scent of strawberries and vanilla was inescapable, surrounding the auburnette’s head like a crown. And…were those birds?! Dozens of different chirps filled the hallway around them…were they in a Disney movie? Oh! She was kissing Josie Saltzman; they were definitely in a Disney movie, a classic animated fairy tale, to be exact. Dozens of birds flew to and fro, stringing garlands of hearts and flowers around the hallway before delicately lowering flower crowns onto each of the teens’ heads.
When the pair finally broke their first kiss, pulling apart just enough to breathe and stare into each other’s besotted eyes, an explosion of rose petals filled the air around them. Thousands of petals rained down upon the two finally united as one, a magical and fragrant celebration of the fulfillment of their most longed-for dreams and most heartfelt desires. With Josie and Hope finally brought together, nature was back in balance once again.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Josie.” “Happy Valentine’s Day, Hope.”
If someone had told Josie Saltzman just a week ago that she would be slow dancing with Hope Mikaelson at the Valentine’s Day Dance, she would not have believed them. She still felt like she needed to pinch herself. Right in front of her was the most beautiful person she had ever seen, long auburn hair in delicate waves, deep blue eyes staring back at her, a hand on her waist and another on her shoulder. Somewhere, tween Josie was squealing at a fever pitch that would break all of the windows.
Even better, though, was the fact that Hope was an excellent dancer. The brunette had rarely seen the tribrid at a dance, and even when she did appear, she always looked uncomfortable and kept to the sides—the exact opposite of tonight. The pair were in the center of the dance floor, and Hope seemed to be in her element—who knew she had an element other than fighting monsters!
The auburnette broke the siphon’s train of thought with a sweet smile. “You had your mom, I had my aunt Rebekah—and lots and lots of balls. My family was legendary for their formal balls, and it wouldn’t do for Klaus Mikaelson’s little princess not to know how to dance,” she replied with a droll smile, as if she had read her partner’s thoughts. “It’s all in the eyes…they’re a window to the soul,” she added by way of explanation, still mesmerized by the rich chocolate eyes that had not left her own.
“You are amazing, has anyone ever told you that?” the starstruck brunette replied.
“Only you, my love.”
A while later, the Valentine’s Day Dance had been underway for some time—making this the perfect time to make an entrance, if one were into that sort of thing—when Lizzie Saltzman appeared at the top of the stairs in a gorgeous, baby-blue, flapper-esque, fringe dress. (Yes, it was a rewear from her Sweet Sixteen. It was fun and festive, exactly how she wanted to feel tonight, so sue her.) Coming up behind her, and slotting her arm through the blonde’s, was none other than Penelope Park, in a shimmering emerald green number—fancy enough to make her look good and fit the occasion, but muted enough that she didn’t draw attention away from the girl she was expertly escorting down the staircase.
The Great Hall went completely silent—save the music, which suddenly seemed out-of-place—as the pair descended the stairs. Even the dancing stopped, with nearly everyone frozen where they stood, all eyes on the love-struck pair. The Salvatore School’s two mortal enemies, arm in arm, staring at each other like they had hung the stars and the moon and the night sky itself. Had the monsters returned, causing some sort of shared mass delusion?
Near the center of the dance floor, however, one couple was still slowly dancing, bodies close together. Josie Saltzman in a delicate pink princessy dress, complete with a jeweled, tiara-like headband and the silver talisman dangling around her neck, and Hope Mikaelson in a muted burgundy one with faint hints of silver, the lines giving just the right amount of exposure to her toned arms and delectable cleavage. The pair swayed gently to the music, undistracted by the shocking scene around them. “See, I told you they’d make a cute couple,” Josie whispered in her date’s ear.
“Fine, you win,” Hope sighed, but with a twinkle in her eyes. Being bested by Josie Saltzman never really hurt, but especially not now that the brunette was hers…her girlfriend, this Valentine’s Day and, if the Universe was merciful, every one thereafter until the end of time.
Pouting, Josie replied, “I’d like my reward for winning now.”
Hope felt like breaking into an enormous laugh, but that would break the mood—both for the two of them, in their bubble, and also for everyone else at the dance, still enraptured by the pair descending the grand staircase. “As you wish, my love,” the auburnette answered softly. She leaned in and pressed her lips to brunette’s, and in that taste of strawberry and vanilla, the world disappeared around them. All that was left were two beating hearts, thumping in sync…mine.