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untemperedwolf · 6 years ago

Text

An unexpected turn

A hubblestar fic, my first fic for this fandom, wrote for my darling Georgia's @hubblestar birthday!!!!!! Happy birthday angel and I really hope you enjoy this fic!!!

Unbeta'd and read through and edited late at night so sorry about any mistakes.

Enjoy!

Dimity sat in the teacher's staff room marking her second years' theory tests. Or at least she was trying to. Truth be told, she was about to give up. Dimity never gives on her agenda and what was on her agenda today, for her lunch, was marking these papers, however she couldn't try for the life of her.

It was too quiet in the school.

No, that's not right. It's never quiet at Cackles-- it's when it is that's worrying-- and even though Dimity is the only one in the staffroom, it was not quiet. The shrieks and laughter of the cackles' girls could be heard from outside: peace and quiet is an impossibility, Dimity learnt quickly.

No, it wasn't too quiet. It was too lonely.

It's only been three days since all that went down with Julie Hubble went down. Three days since Julie Hubble left. And Dimity misses her.

Dimity had gotten used to Julie hanging around in the staff room in the breaks, sitting near Dimity as she marks and plans, chatting away. Usually about her art ideas and what she was going to explore with the girls. Dimity loved hearing Julie talk about all this; her eyes would sparkle and she'd smile, and her voice, oh her voice! Julie always spoke with such passion that Dimity couldn't help but get caught up in what she was saying, the planning long forgotten.

But now Julie is gone and Dimity is alone. Without Julie's cheerful chatting, Dimity feels awfully lonely in the staff room. Usually she'd enjoy being able to work in relative silence, before Julie, but now it's distracting.

Julie was a kindred spirit. She was passionate, she cared about the kids no matter how rude they were to her, and she was always a delight. She was everything Dimity strives to be.

It was nice working with Julie; with someone else who didn't mind being a bit daft unlike the other members of staff-- Dimity loves her colleagues, and they are fun, but Julie was a bubbly ray of sunshine, a free spirit and that's the kind of personality Dimity has. They got along like a house on fire, and she's sad that she no longer has Julie here.

Julie was a good companion, a good friend, even if she wasn't here for long.

If Dimity was being honest, she found herself rather enjoying Julie's presence in a way she hasn't enjoyed anyone's for a long time. It feels childish almost to say, being the age she is, but Dimity found herself developing quite the crush on Julie. It had started, really, ever since she laid eyes on Julie and last year, when they danced, oh... Dimity was a gonner from then. Her crush had only tripled since being around in Julie's presence more.

Of course nothing could come of it. They were colleagues, and Julie is also a mum of one of Dimity's students. She's sure that breaks all kinds of rules, although Dimity never checked, because if she doesn't know for certain then she can continue to daydream about Julie.

And of course there's the glaring problem that she doesn't know if Julie is even into women.

It wasn't exactly break room talk, especially when she hadn't known Julie for all that long. They were colleagues and Julie was Mildred's mum, there's no smooth way of dropping that question into casual conversation, not without Dimity's intentions coming off obviously-- something she did not want, in case Julie wasn't into women, or not into her.

Of course, Dimity could've gone the route of the subject of Mildred's father-- a less open mind may assume Mildred's birth meant Julie was straight when in fact just because Julie had Mildred it still cannot be assumed that Julie holds an attraction for men, let alone men alone-- but that's an invasive topic that Dimity respects the privacy off. It's clear he's not part of their lives and Dimity didn't want to come across as one of those judgemental people who think single mums are not the strong, capable parents they are, and who thing one needs a father. Especially when the single mum in question is the woman she fancies.

Dimity wishes she did inquire, about Julie's sexuality, so that she didn't feel so sad sitting alone in the staff room imaging what could have been between Julie and her when she doesn't even know if that was ever on the table.

Or, at least, Dimity wishes she could've figured out if Julie liked her back. Logic says that the amount of time Julie spent around Dimity and how Dimity remained the only teacher not shrunk into clay is an indicator that maybe Dimity didn't imagine Julie's longing looks of affection. However, logic also says that Dimity was a good friend to Julie, that she was openly kind to Julie where the others were a little more reserved, or just plain disrespectful, and that they were kindred spirits-- of course Julie would want to spend time with her. As a friend.

Dimity shakes her head to herself. What good would it be even if she did figure out if Julie liked her back. If Julie did, she'd still be fired. She'd still be no longer here. That'll be worse, knowing she might've found someone she wants to spend time with, someone she wants to be with, and have her away from her, not with her, not in a relationship.

But then again, there's still a functional mirror available for chats. There's still mail. There's holidays where she could go visit. If Dimity and Julie established something before she had to leave, there still could've been a relationship. It would just be a little more work; work that Julie would be worth.

Sighing, Dimity does what she's always preaching not too and slouches in her chair, dejected. Having thought up that solution to Julie and her's imaginary relationship, Dimity finds herself even more disappointed and bummed out.

Dimity picks up her pen again, spirits low, about to start attempting to mark again-- although there's still the overwhelmingly distracting missing presence of Julie-- when an idea comes to her mind.

Just because Julie and her aren't in a relationship doesn't mean they still can't write and talk!! They still can do that, they still can keep their friendship, and Dimity still can actively talk to Julie, still have her presence in her life.

Struck with inspiration, Dimity hurries off to mirror chat with Julie, hoping that Julie will pick up. Hoping that this is something that Julie would like. Julie did, after all, express a sadness at leaving Dimity when she was packing her things.

Julie does answer, and Dimity's heart skips a beat at seeing Julie's face, although it's only been a mere three days since she last did.

"Dimity!" Julie's voice betrays her surprise. "What a lovely surprise," Julie beams and Dimity feels her stomach tense, her heart constricting, as she's reminded once again how head over heels she is for Julie. Then, a forehead crease appears, panic appearing in her beautiful eyes.

"Wait, is Mildred okay?" Panic floods Julie's voice. Dimity quickly hurries to assure her that everything is fine, and Julie relaxes again.

"I just wanted to...to tell you that I miss you and that, if you want, we can still keep in touch. Like this. And letters, if that's something you'd like," Dimity's heart is beating, fast, in her chest, feeling almost like a confession of her feelings although it's far from it.

Julie beams and her stomach does somersaults. "I'd love that," Julie tells her, and Dimity beams back. Wanting to make sure the conversation doesn't end, and because she is worried, Dimity asks how Julie is. Julie's face darkens slightly, reflecting on the past days, but she says she's getting back used to being at home again. Julie says it's for the best, but Dimity can't agree. She may understand why Julie had to leave, but in many ways she doesn't, in many ways she thinks it's unfair.

Their conversation goes on, changes topics and soon, Dimity finds that an hour has passed. Julie makes her laugh, and time feels like nothing when she's talking to her. Dimity doesn't want to leave Julie, but it's getting close to her next class she's teaching.

"Look at the time!" Julie says, understanding why Dimity's laughter has came to a stop. "I don't want to keep you," Julie adds on.

"We can talk again soon," Dimity promised. "I need your jokes to keep me through the girls' antics," Dimity is sad that it's came to the end of their conversation for today, for possibly a few days, and she doesn't want to say goodbye, but needs must.

"Before you go," Julie says, her voice almost urgent, like she didn't want Dimity to end the call before she has chance to say a final thing. "Just so I know-- these calls, are they two friends having a natter, or two women embarking on a new relationship?" Julie asks.

Dimity almost falls off her chair, her ears not quite believing what Julie said. Dimity stares at Julie, completely frozen in shock.

"Unless I read the signals wrong... but I have a feeling I haven't," Julie speaks again.

"I'm sorry...you...you want a relationship with me?" Dimity says, her mind slowly processing. Julie laughs, and even in her shocks, Dimity's stomach still does flips.

"Of course! I don't just share my stolen forbidden treats with anyone you know!" Julie says and oh my god, Julie likes her.

Dimity beams, a smile overtaking her face, as the realisation Julie has given her makes her feel a little light headed.

"So?" Julie prompts. "Can I take these calls as us embarking on a relationship? I mean, there's nothing in the rules against it, in case you were wondering."

"You checked?" Dimity asks, wondering how long Julie liked her, considering she checked. Julie laughs again.

"Of course I did! If I'm having to make sure I know all the rules of that school, I'm going to check the rules about relationships, when I'm a parent who fancies her daughter's teacher!" Julie responds.

"So?" Julie prompts again. "Don't leave me hanging too long, overwise I might start feeling insecure," Julie cracks a smile but there's an underlayer of worry, worry that she's got this all wrong.

That's what makes it hit Dimity she still hasn't given Julie an answer, and not wanting to be the cause of any worry for Julie, Dimity answers.

"Yes! Yes, that's exactly what I want these calls to be!" Dimity answers, a tad enthusiastically, however Julie doesn't seem to mind.

Beaming, Julie places a hand against her side of the mirror. "Well then, until we can talk again, my dear, you've got a class to teach,"

"Until then," Dimity says, matching Julie's smile and hand.

The call ended, Dimity heads outside, a skip in her step and a happiness in her heart.

#the worst witch #hubblestar #dimity drill #julie hubble #julie x dimity #my fic #georgia tag

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amillionmillionvoices · 6 years ago

Note

“Please listen to me-” + hicsqueak

Hecate isn’t quite sure what she expected to happen. It’s the first conference they’ve attended together, staying in the same hotel, in the same room under Pippa’s name. She’d booked them a suite, far more lavish than Hecate would ever indulge in, but she can’t deny it’s been nice, to have a place to retreat to when the crowds become too much and the socializing begins to grate at her nerves.

She’d known Pippa had her own agenda for the conference - modern workshops and seminars and luncheons with the upper echelons of society. She’d mentioned trying to shop around her most recent article on modern pedagogical exercises in chanting (an article Hecate had read, edited, and eventually grudgingly admitted was logically sound), and bemoaned a meeting with the CEO of some company or other, a man who’d donated a significant amount to Pippa’s school.

Hecate had her own schedule as well, sticking to the larger panels, mostly there to observe and listen and perhaps, if she has the time, attend a seminar on alternative teaching methods for ‘alternative students,’ though she would hate to be recognized at such an event.

(Still, her students come first, even when her students include the likes of Mildred Hubble.)

She’d known they would spend a significant amount of time going their separate ways. But she hadn’t expected Pippa to be quite so distant.

She hasn’t invited Hecate to any of the lunches she’s attending, despite complaining about how handsy Arnold Moonshine always gets when he thinks she’s single. Hasn’t introduced her to anyone during the breaks, hasn’t sought her out for a quick word, hasn’t touched her at all - not even a fleeting brush of her hand against Hecate’s arm, the way she always does when they’re in public at either of their schools.

She tries to be grateful for it. Tries to reason to herself that drawing attention to themselves as a couple would be a disastrous idea, and it’s not as though it’s anyone else’s business besides.

But a louder, childish part of her, feels wounded. That Pippa evidently doesn’t want anyone to know they’re together. That she’s either ashamed or embarrassed to be seen with Hecate in such a public forum.

She understands why. Hecate knows she isn’t liked much out of very small, traditional circles. Knows even there she’s the odd one out, too awkward and too brusque to really connect with anyone. She’s been relatively lucky, that her life isn’t predicated on who she knows. She’d taken the potions mistress post at Cackle’s early on in her career, and Ada had taken a shine to her, for reasons Hecate still doesn’t quite understand.

Pippa, she knows, has had to build her reputation, her school, her life from the ground up. Yes, her name gave her some advantages, as her family has always been well-liked by most, but there’s no denying she’s worked hard, to cultivate the right relationships, to be seen with the right people, to learn what to say and how and when to say it.

Hecate doesn’t possess those skills. She’s too blunt, too sarcastic, too unwilling to cater to the people around her. And Pippa knows that. Knows that she’d be a hindrance rather than a help; that she’d inevitably say something and alienate someone and all Pippa’s hard work would be lost.

So Hecate keeps to herself. Follows Pippa’s cues and during the day pretends they’re nothing more than colleagues, barely friends.

At night, Pippa returns to the room far later than Hecate, exhausted, and her mask slips away. Her shoulders hunch and she smiles weakly, but genuinely, for the first time all day.

Hecate quirks her lips when Pippa collapses, still in her clothes, and curls up on the sofa, her head in Hecate’s lap.

“I hate conferences,” she confesses, nuzzling her head into Hecate’s hand when she begins carding her fingers through Pippa’s hair.

“I can see why,” Hecate murmurs, setting aside her book.

Pippa sighs heavily. “At least the funding for the east wing is in order.”

Hecate raises her eyebrows. “Already?”

Pippa snorts. “Dryfus is easy,” she says. “Pay him enough compliments and buy him lunch and he’s yours.”

“Dryfus,” Hecate repeats, trying to place the name. “Dryfus Ellington?” Pippa hums in response. “He’s an idiot.”

“A rich idiot,” Pippa mumbles.

Hecate purses her lips but says nothing. There’s nothing to say - she understands why Pippa does it. Why she needs the money - for expansion, for supplies, for scholarships. It’s the latter she’s the most invested in, Hecate knows, trying desperately to make her school affordable to everyone.

But it’s private, isn’t funded by the council the way Cackle’s is, and a steady source of funding is necessary to keep Pentangle’s up and running.

It doesn’t mean Hecate always agrees with her methods, but she can’t imagine what she would do differently.

Pippa sighs in the silence, turning on her back to look up at Hecate. “I know you don’t approve.”

Hecate falters, then continues brushing her fingers through Pippa’s hair. “It isn’t that.”

“No?”

“I disapprove of the fact that it’s necessary,” she says. “But I think no less of you for it.”

Pippa’s lips quirk in a smile, and she catches Hecate’s hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” she says. “Tomorrow we’ll stay together.”

Hecate swallows. “That’s not necessary. I realize you have more important things to do.”

Pippa frowns. “I’ve made all the arrangements I needed,” she says. “It took me a day longer than I’d have liked, but—tomorrow I’m all yours.”

She smiles, and Hecate’s stomach drops.

It isn’t worth it. Pippa works too hard to have every relationship she’s developed unravel in Hecate’s presence.

“I… appreciate the offer,” Hecate says carefully, “But I understand.”

“Understand what?”

Hecate works her jaw, trying to parse her words, to sound careless and unaffected. “I’m not exactly the most popular person in these circles.”

Pippa sits up, faces her with her legs crossed and a hand on her arm. “So?”

“So… I understand the need for distance. You’ve worked hard to cultivate these relationships. My presence would only serve as a hindrance.”

“That’s not true.”

Hecate arches an eyebrow. “Is that not why you’ve been pretending we’re merely colleagues?”

Pippa’s frown deepens and she pulls away, settling her hands in her lap. “I haven’t been—” She stops, and stares down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

She’d hoped, vainly, that perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Pippa had another reason for avoiding her—but she can tell by the guilty expression on her face, the way she wrings her hands together that she wasn’t wrong at all.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Hecate says. “I’m aware of my reputation. I’m aware of the damage it would do to yours.”

Pippa falters, opens her mouth several times and finally says, “It’s just a game. It’s a stupid game I have to play to keep my school running, and these people care so much about names and status and I need them to—”

Hecate ducks forward and kisses her briefly, softly, stemming her words. “I know.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” she says. “It has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Hecate doesn’t quite believe her, but nods regardless. “I know.”

Pippa blinks rapidly. “You’re not angry?”

Hecate offers a small smile. “I’m fine, Pippa. Truly.”

–

She isn’t fine.

It hurts, watching Pippa across the hall, knowing for certain now that she’s being, to borrow Pippa’s phrase, shunted. To know it’s on purpose, to serve a goal.

She understands, doesn’t fault Pippa for it, but for the first time, she wishes she were more palatable to people. Wishes she could turn herself off for a while, could be normal, could be like everyone else.

Settling into her seat, she hates that she glances around for Pippa. Hates that she finds her just two rows back, sitting next to an older woman that Hecate can tell just by looking at is wealthy. Pippa catches Hecate’s eye and smiles briefly, and Hecate nods back, then turns in her seat to face the podium.

The first presentation is duller than the ones her students give, and Hecate lets herself tune out the drone of his voice and uninteresting (and unoriginal) findings.

People in the audience have begun to whisper, and there are two women in front of her who catch her attention, heads bent together as they look over the schedule.

“Pentangle’s leading a workshop?”

“On modern magic,” the other says derisively. “There’ll no doubt be singing involved.”

“She had to cancel the last one she signed up for. Too busy screwing her way to the top, I’d imagine.”

Hecate freezes, blood cold as she stares at the back of their heads, jaw clenched.

“That’s not very nice,” the other whispers back, and the first woman huffs.

“Well it’s true. How else do you think she gets all that funding for her ridiculous school?”

“Or perhaps,” Hecate says quietly, pleased when both women jump and turn, startled, “manipulating the petty and disingenuous out of their money is easier than you would like to believe.” She fixes her gaze on the second woman. “You’ve donated a significant amount in the last year to Catshead Academy, have you not?”

The woman - Miss Belltower, she knows - stammers, but the other she doesn’t recognize recovers after a moment and lifts her chin, her voice still quiet in the large ballroom, “That’s interesting coming from you, Miss Hardbroom, as I was under the impression Miss Pentangle endeavored to take your headmistress’ place in much the same way.”

Hecate’s anger flares, her voice a bit too loud, “Ada Cackle would never—”

“I’m not talking about Miss Cackle. You are sleeping with Miss Pentangle, are you not?”

Silence or aversion is as good as a yes, and Pippa doesn’t want people to know. Doesn’t want that association, so she lifts her chin and says clearly,

“No, I am not. Though I fail to see how that’s any of your concern.”

Miss Belltower turns away, and the other woman contemplates for a moment before saying, “I suppose it isn’t. But perhaps you should pay closer attention to rumors, Miss Hardbroom. It would be a pity to lose your upstanding reputation to one…mistake.”

She arches an eyebrow before turning back in her seat and fixing her gaze pointedly on the presenter.

Hecate has no idea what she means or even how to go about finding out. She’s always done her best to keep herself above gossip, beyond who’s retiring and who’s publishing and what posts are open at various academies.

But Pippa knows. Pippa knows everything, makes it her business to know, to keep her head above water, and Hecate clenches her teeth in irritation.

She can tolerate being ignored for the sake of Pippa’s school, for Pippa’s students. She can handle the twisted feeling in her gut that perhaps Pippa is embarrassed to be seen with her. But she cannot abide secrets, or being kept in the dark, and it’s soon after the panel is over that Hecate finds Pippa in the hallway, chatting amiably with another witch.

“Pardon me, Miss Pentangle,” she interrupts, caring little for the annoyed glance the other woman gives her. “Might I borrow you for a moment? Miss Cackle has a few questions on modern pedagogy she asked me to have answered while I’m here.”

Pippa frowns, a bit confused, but smiles and makes her excuses and turns to Hecate, voice lowered in the crowd. “Is everything alright?”

Hecate glances around to ensure no one is paying them any attention, then transfers them both to an empty conference room and shuts the door with a wave of her hand.

“Hecate?”

“I’ve had an interesting conversation with a friend of Miss Belltower’s,” she says. “Evidently our relationship isn’t as private as you’d like.”

There’s a moment, a brief flash of panic in Pippa’s eyes that Hecate’s certain no one else would catch before she frowns.

“I haven’t heard anything,” she says, but it’s a lie, bold and brazen, and Hecate arches an eyebrow.

“So you’re unaware that some people believe you’re only sleeping with me in an attempt to assume Miss Cackle’s position as headmistress?”

It’s an indelicate way of putting it, Hecate knows, especially if Pippa truly hasn’t heard the rumor; but she has, Hecate can see it on her face, the way her mask breaks for a split second, the horrified look in her eyes, but without surprise.

“I—” she starts, and Hecate snaps.

“Don’t lie to me, Pippa.”

She blinks, startled, and shakes her head. “I’m not trying to lie to you. I just—it’s idle gossip, it means nothing.”

“It means something, or you would have told me about it.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she insists. “Yes, I’m aware of it, but I didn’t think telling you would do any good. I know you don’t like gossip to begin with and it’s nothing more than that.” She pauses, frown deepening. “Unless—you don’t believe it, do you?”

Hecate huffs. “Of course not.”

“I’m serious, Hecate. You don’t believe I’m with you because I want something, right?”

Hecate sighs, her anger dwindling in the face of Pippa’s palpable fear. “No, I don’t believe it,” she says firmly. She isn’t always quite sure why Pippa is with her, but she knows it isn’t because of that. “But if I’m going to do my part and deny any rumor that we’re together, I need to know what those rumors are.”

“You told someone we weren’t together?”

Hecate frowns at the surprise in her voice. “Miss Belltower and her…friend.” Pippa looks shaken, and Hecate doesn’t understand. “I thought it’s what you wanted.”

Pippa blinks and nods. “No, of course, you’re right. It’s better this way.”

“Pippa—”

“That was quick thinking, though I’m sorry to have put you in that position.” She smiles too broadly. “Once I’ve locked down sponsors for next year’s scholarships, I’m sure we can tell people. If you want.”

Hecate tries her best not to flinch. Tries to pretend that the words, their implication, make no difference to her. That being hidden in the shadows for the sake of appearance doesn’t tug at something inside her, doesn’t tongue at her insecurities.

But Pippa must see it, because she’s across the room in seconds, a hand on Hecate’s arm. “Hiccup—”

“It’s fine, Pippa,” she interrupts, unable to stand the concern in Pippa’s eyes. “It’s only another two days, regardless.” She pauses. “In fact, I may head back early. There are some things at Cackle’s I need to—”

“Hecate, no, stay,” she begs. “We’ll—we’ll do something tomorrow, I promise. We’ll get away from the hotel and—”

“Hide,” Hecate finishes, her voice flat. “That’s fine.”

Pippa looks away. “It’s not hiding.”

Hecate purses her lips. “I’m willing to go along with the charade in public, but let’s not pretend it’s anything other than what it is. I embarrass you.”

Pippa’s head jerks up, her eyes wide, and her hand tightens on Hecate’s arm. “Hecate, no. That’s not—that’s not even close to—why would you say that?”

Hecate pulls away, irritation rising. “Because I’m not naive. You’ve made it quite clear that I don’t belong in this part of your world.”

Pippa frowns. “And you’re alright with that?”

“Yes,” she lies. “If it’s what’s best for you—”

“It’s not.”

Hecate pauses. “I don’t understand.”

Pippa shakes her head, clearly exasperated, though Hecate has no idea why, until she says, so clearly, “I’ve loved you since I was eleven years old, and for thirty years I had to live without you. Now that we’re together, I want to—to—leap on my broom and shout it to the rooftops. But I can’t. Because—”

“It’s a game,” Hecate repeats. “Of course.”

“But you don’t believe that,” Pippa says. “Not entirely. Or you wouldn’t be so upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

Pippa glares at her. “Don’t lie to me, Hecate, not about this. Don’t say you’re fine when you aren’t.”

“Then don’t lie to me, Pippa,” she snaps. “Do not attempt to dress this up as something pretty, for your sake or mine. I don’t need to be coddled.”

“I’m not trying to coddle you, Hecate, I’m trying to—” She cuts herself off abruptly and turns away.

“Trying to what?” Hecate goads, and Pippa sighs.

“I’m just…trying to do the right thing. By you. By us. By my school.”

Hecate watches her for a moment, sees the struggle on her face, and almost hates that she says, softly, “You may not be able to have it both ways.”

Pippa’s eyes water and Hecate’s stomach knots, her hands itching to reach out. Instead, she curls her hands into fists and lifts her chin.

“That isn’t fair,” Pippa says, and Hecate shakes her head.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Pippa barks out a wet laugh. “Of course it’s not.”

Hecate frowns, feels thrown off course. “I don’t understand,” she says, and Pippa seems to crack, seems like a torrent of things she’s held back slip out, and she’s powerless to stop them.

“I hate this,” she admits. “I hate pretending we’re not together. I hate that I can’t touch you or hold your hand or—or—even speak to you naturally. I hate the excuses and the—stares and—and I don’t care if people know. I want people to know. I want them to know I’m yours.”

Hecate blinks, surprise and confusion plain on her face, she’s certain. “But… your school…”

Pippa scoffs and her voice hardens. “Anyone that wouldn’t give us money because of you is money I don’t want,” she says. “And anyone who wouldn’t support us because of you is support I don’t need.”

Hecate flounders. “Then why—”

“Because of you. Because you’re—you’re revered, Hecate. Your work is known in every witching circle there is and even the people that don’t like you admire you. You’ve built a reputation for yourself, a good one - as a traditionalist, yes, but as someone who cares deeply about The Craft and educating young witches and I didn’t want—”

She breaks off, and Hecate swallows tightly, barely manages to ask, “Didn’t want what?”

“I didn’t want to damage that. With my… modern practices and—singing and… pink.” She bites her lip and looks up at Hecate with wet eyes. “I didn’t want people to think I was manipulating you. I know how much you hate being pitied, and I just—I didn’t want them to think of you as one of my supposed ‘conquests.’ You’re better than that. You deserve better than that. And I can’t be the one to ruin—”

Hecate kisses her, closes the space between them and kisses her fiercely, hands on her cheeks. Pippa startles, but instantly relaxes, brings her hands up to curl around Hecate’s biceps as she leans in, opens her mouth under Hecate’s.

When they part, they’re both breathing heavily, and Hecate presses her forehead to Pippa’s, eyes closed, heart hammering.

“Pippa,” she murmurs. “When is the last time you’ve known me to care what fools think of me?”

Pippa curls her fingers around the back of Hecate’s neck. “But they hurt you,” she whispers. “You pretend they don’t, but I remember—”

When they were young, when harsh words and criticisms would follow Hecate down the hallways, when rumors would pop up, about her family, about her, about her and Pippa.

Hecate shakes her head. “I cared because I was afraid,” she says. “I thought if you believed the rumors, if you knew how I felt, you would leave me. But I couldn’t care less about Miss Belltower or her friends or anyone else.

“But you—”

“Please listen to me,” Hecate cuts her off, pulling back far enough to see Pippa’s face. “There isn’t anything anyone could say that would matter more to me than you. If they think I am… naive or gullible, let them think so. There are far worse things,” she says pointedly, but Pippa shakes her head.

“I don’t care. Those rumors—I’m used to them.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Pippa smiles softly. “No. But they don’t bother me anymore.”

Hecate nods slowly, her fingers brushing the ends of Pippa’s hair. “And… I don’t embarrass you?”

Pippa kisses her firmly. “Never.”

“Then perhaps we’ve been the foolish ones,” Hecate says, ducking her head. Pippa kisses the frown on her face, her nose, her lips.

“We could be not foolish, from now on?”

There’s nervousness there, and hope, and Hecate’s lips quirk in a small smile.

“I would like that.”

Pippa beams, wrapping her arms tightly around Hecate’s neck. “I love you, Hiccup.”

Hecate buries her face in Pippa’s neck. “I love you, too, Pipsqueak.”

Pippa sniffles, pulls back to wipe a stray tear off her cheek and finally lets go, stepping back. “I suppose we should get back to the ballroom for the next panel?”

Hecate nods, and Pippa holds out her hand. “Together?”

Smiling softly, Hecate takes her hand, holds on, doesn’t let go.

“Pippa?” she asks, just before they transfer.

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me Hiccup in public.”

They fade away, Pippa’s laughter ringing through the empty room.

#hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle

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bonnissance · 7 years ago

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if y’all thought I was over having feelings about cottages and witches and baking, y’all were wrong. on the plus side, I think I’ve gotten it all out of my system now :3

part ii of cottage feels (i) (iii) Hecate ‘a bundle of brainweasles in a tightly tailored dress’ Hardbroom/Pippa ‘she/they non-binary high femme’ Pentangle, 3.3k+, teen, CW: Hecate is a anxious bean + a few references to Hecate’s attitude towards food which could be interpreted as disordered eating, Pippa is v dramatic.

~*~

Hecate has a cottage, more than a few hours away from Pentangle’s. She hadn’t realised when she inherited it, not till Pippa came back into her life and she started wondering when she could visit her friend, how best for the two of them to spend time together now they were speaking again (that’s a lie, she always knew; but she spent so long convincing herself it didn’t matter that Pippa was just out of reach from a simple transference spell that she truly started to believe it. But now that Pippa is back it’s a hard fact to ignore).

It seems right, to invite Pippa here, instead of Cackle’s, where no matter how hard either of them try, the always fall into their roles as teachers: always worrying about the students around them and whatever mischief they might be up to, so they can never just be.

At least not around one another. Not the way they need to, in order to make any future for their friendship actually tenable, solid, possible, after so long apart.

Going to Pentangle’s before the beginning of the school year hadn’t worked: it had been marvellous to see Pippa at first, then the awkwardness of sharing a meal had set in and small talk has grown sparse and both had soon realised they had more separating them than connecting. As quickly as they're rekindled they'd fractured apart again, scattered under the tension of things not being right.

So Hecate had taken her leave, citing a problem with the school. And oh, how right she had been, with the way their first term had begun, and stayed, with nothing but chaos all around.

Then Pippa coming to Cackle’s had been a disaster, the second time, when they’d been sent according the Great Wizard’s agenda with their own hopes in mind—to work beside Hecate, to show her what Pippa could do with magic, what she’d been learning to do all this time, to prove to Hecate that they really was a witch worth her respect, no matter the methods they use—all of which Hecate had only realised after Pippa has left, when she could breathe easy again knowing that Ada’s position at the school was safe and that her own life wouldn’t be uprooted by spirillaus accusations.

Heaven help the next time Ursula Hallow rears her bleach-blonde head; if it weren’t for Ada’s pleading to go easy on the woman for the sake of her daughters, Hecate would have gotten rather Crafty in her further interactions with Mrs Hallow in ways that definitely, oh so certainly do not contravene the Code in any way shape or form.

Because it’s not like a few stray dead rats are technically harmful to others, and none of it really benefits Hecate. So she’ll freely admit, if only to herself, that she rather likes Julie Hubble’s very precise summation of witchery’s most significant rules for the new outlooks on permissible interaction between witches it’s given her.

She really should thank that woman, now she thinks of it. If she’s anything like her daughter, she’d probably appreciate a chocolate cake. Hecate makes a note to spent an afternoon reviving some old recipes.

But, now, things are settled between her and Pippa. Now they’ve found the time to talk, albeit only over the mirror, and gotten a chance to air out old grievances. Since they promised each other they only wish to move forward.

So, she thinks it’s time she offered something to Pippa, now Hecate has realised she’s been spurning Pippa’s attempts all this time, too busy worrying about the school and all the shenanigans that have been happening to see the glimpses of her old friend reaching out to her.

She thinks it’s time she reached out too.

So she invites Pippa, to her cottage, just outside the limits of their ability to transfer, for afternoon tea.

She wants to make something they’ll like, something special the two of them can share; she remembers Pippa used to like croquembouche, how she’d cooed and squeed over one in a shop-window one weekend they’d been given time away from campus.

She still remembered how delighted Pippa had been by the display, and rosy cheeks and bright smiles. A happy Pippa always was a sight to behold.

A lot has happened since then, but Hecate is certain Pippa’s delight in all things flashing and complicated hasn’t changed. And if they have, Hecate hopes Pippa will appreciated the effort all the same.

Because she wakes up to see a red ring around that day shining bring on her calendar. Gets up of bed. Spends the day pouring herself into constructing. It gives her something to think while she worried about Pippa’s imminent arrival, something else to focus on except about their coming presence in Hecate’s house.

It helps, passes the day quickly in a blur of intricate details in between empty out a room she’s never thought to use for anything expect storage. She hasn’t said anything, but it’s a long enough flight that is seems only polite to offer Pippa somewhere to sleep for the night, though they want to avoid two flights in one day. So she turns it into a bedroom she thinks Pippa might like, red velvet and crushed pink, candles by the bedside and an open window for the breeze, and closes the door when she’s done.

Hecate has never had a guest sleep in the cottage. She’s not sure if she wants it to stay that way, or if she’s just scared of knowing just how long Pippa can stand to be around her.

She retreats to the kitchen to avoid thinking about it.

The tower forms before her till she forgets to count down the minutes to Pippa’s arrival. She puts the final twist of spun sugar on the tower and transfers it over to the table; give herself a chance to marvel at her handiwork, almost forgetting why she made it in the first place. Almost.

Then a glimmer of movement outside the kitchen window catches her eyes. She looks outside to see a rapidly nearing glitter of pink drawing near the house. She swallows her nerves as best she can, keeps them trapped to her stomach as she walk outside to watch Pippa land between the farthest flowerbeds, pink clogs touching down lightly onto lush emerald grass.

‘Well met, Hecate,’ Pippa says, smiling brightly as she dips their head slightly.

‘Well met,’ Hecate replies, forever grateful that witchy customs give her something to do with her hands during otherwise awkward greetings.

Her fingertips itch as Pippa draws near, to stand beside Hecate with just a hint of a knowing smile on her lips. A part of her is relieved when Pippa ignores her in favour of staring at the cottage; most of her is heartbroken.

‘I know it isn’t much,’ she starts when Pippa stares for far too long, as a strange sort of weight growing in the space between their shoulders—not quite brushing.

‘It’s perfect,’ Pippa whispers, finally turning towards Hecate, and Hecate could swear there are tears in their eyes. ‘It’s more you than I’d imagined.’

Hecate blushes; she cant remember the last time someone looked at her quite like that, as if they can see all of Hecate, right into the heart of her, instead of staring through like she isn’t even there.

It’s a strange feeling, to be truly seen. Hecate can never tell if she likes it or not.

She ushers Pippa inside without a word, into the warmth of the living room with the dining room table just beside. The croquembouche stands tall in the middle of the table, caramel gleaming in the firelight while the rest of the table sits bare, just waiting to be filled with teapot and saucers and conversation.

Pippa stops short of the table with a soft gasp. ‘Oh, Hiccup! You shouldn’t have.’

Hecate flaps her hand. ‘It was nothing—’

‘You know it’s not.’ Pippa voice is firm, heavy, knowing, and Hecate inhales sharply.

She flicks her forefinger. ‘It was your favourite.’

‘Still is,’ Pippa assures her, eyes misted ever so slightly and wide with delight. Their hand twitches, but stays by their side. ‘It looks wonderful, Hecate. Thank you.’

Hecate ruffles under the gratitude in Pippa voice, for all it was what she hoped for, and mumbles something about making tea to excuse herself to the kitchen. She can feel Pippa’s eyes on her back as she works, hairs on the back of her neck tingling until a soft mieow echoes up from the table legs; she looks up to find Pippa sitting comfortably at the table, carries the tea over as they coo at Morgana, half sitting in Pippa’s lap and demanding pats.

Pippa fingers scratch at cat fur; Hecate shivers, sits down.

She tries her best to sit at ease, to ease herself in the feel of Pippa’s company, pouring for the both of them while Pippa begins devouring the tower. Hecate nibbles at a petite four, tries not to stare that the crumbs sitting at the corner of Pippa’s mouth.

Conversation is light, pleasant, polite, but there’s a undercurrent of tension vibrating beneath as move past pleasantries and being to trade horror stories from their respective schools. In that, they find common ground, and the kinks in Hecate’s back being to work themselves lose as the tower slowly disintegrates: a sacrifice to Pippa’s sweet tooth, between spars and barbs and anecdote about their students.

Soon enough, they’re in the middle of a heated debate, and it feels so much like they used to Hecate can’t help smiling; helps herself to a third ball of puff pastry as they launch into a healthy if overly vigorous back and forward on the benefits of infusing ingredient from seed rather than folding magic into a final product, and forgets to be self conscious.

The teapot is stone cold when Pippa finally holds her hands up in surrender as Hecate delivers her final point arguing for the importance of personalised potion-fodder.

‘Alright, you’ve convinced me!’ they say with a smile, and Hecate nods her head in satisfaction, breathing slightly heavier than normal as she settles back into her chair.

She was too caught up in the argument to realise she’s shuffled to the edge of her seat: close enough to brush against Pippa’s knee.

Something tickles at her forehead: a stray piece of flyaway hair hangs down in front of her face, dangling just in front of her nose. Hecate huffs, infuriated, wondering how it could have worked it way free of her bun.

Pippa giggles. Hecate glares, at her friend and her unruly hair; freezes as Pippa reaches forward to tuck the hair behind Hecate’s ear.

She shivers as fingertips trace over the shell of her ear; blinking furiously as Pippa sits back in their chair, hands curled in her lap with their eyes shining, her lips twitching as if they want to speak.

Hecate coughs, ruffling under Pippa’s gaze; looks up to see their eyes clouded, now slid over Hecate’s shoulder to stare at the clock on the mantlepiece.

Pippa pouts. ‘Oh, bother, is that the time?’ they wonder, a little put out but already gathering their coat over their shoulders. ‘I’d best be getting back,’ she adds with a lopsided smile. Looking like they really don’t want to leave, not really.

Hecate resists the urge to cling. ‘You can stay, you know,’ she offers lightly, fingers twitching to reach out and draw Pippa back to the table. She keeps her hands to herself, where they’re supposed to be. ‘I’ve a spare room—it’s not much, but…you only just got here, you needn’t fly away so soon.’

Pippa eyes her, a little relieved but still not convinced. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

Hecate frowns. ‘No, not at all.’ She wouldn’t have offered if she did.

Pippa still hesitates, only half way out of their chair. As if she’s waiting for something.

For me, Hecate realises after a few moments. Breathes in deep, and admits, ‘I’d like you to stay.’

So Pippa does: sets herself up in the spare room Hecate has never had use for beside storage, settles into the cottage for the afternoon, insists Hecate go about her business like they aren’t even here.

‘At least until dinner is ready,’ Pippa adds, twinkle in her eye, before burying her nose in an ancient, browning spell book they found on Hecate’s shelf.

Hecate closes the door in something of a panic, ever so slightly: she’d forgotten they’d have to sit with one another at the dinner table, forgotten they’d be forced to talk, again, or eat in silence.

She’s never been very good at either of those.

Pippa emerges an hour later, swapping one book for three before joining Hecate beside the fire: walks in with a soft smile, without a word, settling themselves in the second chair within the warmth of the cottage.

Hecate tries to keep reading like normal, but there’s nothing normal about having Pippa sitting close enough for her to touch—not now, not after all this time.

She tries not to scurry away, instead busies herself in with dinner: a slow roast stew with pomegranate jewelled rice.

It’s far richer than she’d ever make for herself, but she’d never had the excuse before, so she readily takes it now.

She can feel Pippa’s eyes on her, as she peels and chops and dices, gaze lingering as they stay on the sofa where Hecate insisted they remain when Pippa offered to help. Shivers run up her spine and she flusters slightly, unused to the attention: hands shaking ever so slightly as she scraped carrots and set them aside.

She pointedly ignores her guest, only looking up when she heard the front door open and close; looks up to find the cottage empty again, the way it should be, but can’t help thinking it feels wrong, somehow.

She frowns, leaves the stew to simmer, and goes to find her friend.

The sky gleams pink and purples and deep, dark blue as she draws near Pippa, sitting on a picnic blanket and looking up at the evening sky.

Pippa’s silhouette is lovely and bright, even in the ever-growing dim, and Hecate mumbles a greeting as she stops to stand beside.

‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ she murmers, toes brushing the edges of the blanket Hecate knows should be lain across that second chair she owns but never sits in.

Pippa nods, but doesn’t respond; Hecate kneels, craning her neck to look right above her, at the stars just starting to twinkle.

Pippa notices her looking, and does the same.

’Do you remember when we used to sneak out after curfew to stargaze?’ they ask, breaking the silence, a few minutes later. Their voice is soft, almost wistful, and Hecate bites back a snort.

‘I do.’ She hums, remembering the nights Pippa would creep into her room and lead them both into the dark of night to spend hours lying side by side, staring up the sky.

She’s still bitter about the one and only detention she received during their time at school, for getting caught in the corridors after hours, trying to sneak back into their room: their form-mistress has assumed they’d been heading for the kitchen, refused to believe they’d been studying for their upcoming astronomy exams. It was all Pippa’s fault, of course; if they’d headed back to their rooms when Hecate has said, they’d never have been caught.

‘You always did have a way of getting to me to do whatever you wanted.’

Pippa sniffs, stiffens beside her. ‘Actually, I remember you saying that view from you room was terrible and you wanted to see the sky better.’

Hecate frowns, rebuttal dying on the tip of her tongue: recalling a long buried memory of her lamenting the atrocious view through the tiny sliver of a window in her tower bedroom, a confession about how much she missed being able to see the stars before she slept.

That is how it had started: Pippa knowing what Hecate wanted, and finds a way to make it happen.

‘Oh, I...’ she stammers, looking down at her knees. ‘I’d forgotten that.’

Pippa nods slowly, turning towards Hecate. They wait patiently until Hecate looks back at them.

‘I think we’ve forgotten a lot of things, Hiccup,’ she says, like it holds more weight than it simply being how memories work after all this time.

Their eyes shine in the dark, and though Pippa’s shoulders do not move, Hecate could swear she feels fingertips brush over her knuckles

And just like that, the wide, opening clearing in front of her cottage in the middle of a secluded forrest feels much, much too small.

Hecate closes her eyes, trying desperately to stave off what she knows comes next, if only for a new more seconds.

‘You still haven’t told me why you left,’ Pippa points out, their voice resigned, almost unfeeling. Almost.

Hecate shakes her head, trying to work her way up to explaining without actually saying. She’s not ready, not yet; but then again, she doubts she’ll ever be ready.

Pippa has waited this long, she deserves Hecate at least try.

But Pippa doesn’t stop, doesn’t wait for Hecate to speak, just keeps talking.

‘I haven’t told you why I didn’t follow, though I suspect you know. It’s not like I’ve been very subtle about it,’ they add, and it’s all Hecate can do to keep up. ‘You broke my heart, Hecate. I thought I could get past it, and focus on just being friends—and I can, once I’ve gotten all this out in the open and just moved on like I should have done decades ago.’

She can’t be hearing right, surely? She didn’t just hear Pippa say…

‘But after seeing you here, this house, I can’t pretend that I still don’t want more. That I don’t want to share things like this with you. It’s not fair to hide it from you, for me to keep pretending there isn’t something more on my part.’

But that means—

‘So, there it is, out in the open at last,’ Pippa says with a self-deprecating laugh. She looks over at Hecate, to find her open mouth and staring. The silence drags on too long. ‘Hiccup?’

Hecate can’t response, her tongue too tied under so many words she wants to say.

‘Right, okay then,’ Pippa says, cleaning their throat as they get to their feet, as far from Hecate as they can manage. ‘I understand, I’ve just got to—’

Hecate’s hand shot out in the dark but stops before she can grasp Pippa’s hand; desperate to touch but still hanging back.

‘Stay,’ she says, begs, finally letting her fingers rest on the warmth of Pippa’s forearm.

Pippa huffs, pulling her hand from Hecate’s. ‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t thinking of flying home in the dark. I know I’ve been dramatic about things in the past, but I’ve no intention of storming off in a huff and poleaxing myself on a tree, Hecate. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine.’

It’s wrong, this is all wrong; thats not what she means at all.

‘No, I mean, stay. Here, now. With me.’

‘I’d rather lick my wounds in private, if you don’t mind,’ they says, walking towards the cottage. ‘I’ll be here in the morning if you need to talk.’

Talking is the last thing on Hecate’s mind, now that Pippa is leaving; she doesn’t want that, never wanted that. Never wants Pippa leaving, ever again.

Hecate surges to her feet, tripping on the creased in the rug and stumbling slightly as she races towards Pippa’s retreating form. Slips her hand into Pippa’s and tugs, turning her around to pull her close; muffling a tiny cry of surprise with her mouth as she kisses Pippa, soft and sweet, shaking and trembling as Pippa melts against her.

She breaks away, long moments later, to see heavy lidded eyes flutter open and bright, dark eyes sparkle back at her.

‘But—’

‘Stay with me, please?’ Hecate says, knowing she’s prepared to beg to the person in arms if that what’s it takes to make sure Pippa never leaves again, and does not let go.

Pippa smiles, beams, tears in their eyes gleaming in the last rays of sun, and leans forward to catch Hecate’s lips with their own.

‘Always.’

#hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle #i'm real highkey about cottages y'all may have noticed #I wrote a thing #the worst witch

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susannessmartin-blog · 5 years ago

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