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A gentle knock rapped against Miss Hardbroom’s door. She glanced down at the chain around her neck, and opened the metal contraption with care. Ten o’ clock, who would be knocking on her door at this hour? Unless it was Ada… Hecate was just working through some important administration work for her. Too exhausted from the day to move, Hecate transferred herself to her door and quickly pulled it open.
She was surprised to find a rather dispirited looking Miss Drill on the other side.
“I’m really sorry to bother you Miss Hardbroom, there was no more space for the first year girls, what with the East Wing gone, so I said they could share my room. I hate to ask, but could I share with you? Just for tonight, tomorrow we’ll have finished the stones and will be able to rebuild…”
Hecate had always respected Dimity Drill, yes Dimity would tease her with the occasional remark, but it was never malicious. Never crossed the boundary into hurtful. And at that moment in time Hecate respected her all the more. Miss Drill had given up her room so that the first year trio, already distressed by the wildfire spell, didn’t have to sleep somewhere cold and maladapted.
“That would be.. acceptable.” Hecate managed, unwilling to turn her away, despite knowing she would never be able to sleep under said arrangement.
“Given the circumstances.” She added quickly, opening the door wide, and stepping back to allow Dimity access to her room.
Hecate was met with smile of pure gratitude as the younger witch thanked her, candidly, and stepped inside.
“I have some work to be getting on with…” She said stiffly, shutting the door with a flick of her hand.
‘Make yourself… At home…” Her tone was dry but not unfriendly. Hecate quickly moved to her desk and began gathering an intimidating pile of paperwork, forms and marking.
“I really appreciate this, Hecate. I-” Dimity had summoned a small bag, and as she turned back towards the desk, Miss Hardbroom gave her a curt nod of acknowledgement and dematerialised.
Reappearing in her office, Hecate dropped the papers onto the desk and collapsed into her chair. Since the terrible events at the end of last year, she’d been pushing the limits of Wide-Awake potion, bordering on a dangerous dosage. Normally, Hecate cherished the warmth and comfort of sleep, but Agatha had ruined her sanctuary, leaving her unable to settle, and kept awake fretting for Ada and the girls.
Only stopping when Ada had made her promise. The worry and concern in Ada’s voice was enough to make her cut the potion off completely, but that didn’t come without its drawbacks.
The day had been almost as disastrous as the first day of term. The disappearance of the Founding Stone had left Hecate sick with panic for Ada, and what the consequences might be if they couldn’t recover it. The wildfire in the first year’s room had only added to the turmoil, she was just thankful that no one had been hurt.
On top of that, the new Art teacher had her on edge. Requesting to teach here, at Cackles, a school which has never before had Art on the curriculum. And her rather keen interest in the Founding Stone. Hecate didn’t trust her, not one bit. She would be investigated, subtly of course, as Hecate seemed to be talking to brick walls when it came to voicing her suspicions.
Pulling forward a sheet off the top of her pile, Hecate started on the expenses for new furniture for the East Wing. If Marigold Mould was hiding something, if she had taken the stone, Hecate would find out. The stone would be recovered. No one would cause any more harm to Cackles. Not after Agatha. That she swore to herself.
Dimity Drill looked across Miss Hardbroom’s dark, empty bedchamber. She’d fetched herself a camp-bed and pushed it against the wall, but really there was plenty of room.
Whilst her chambers were littered with boxes, papers, and new broomstick mechanisms, Hecate’s contained only a desk, a plain wardrobe, and an old-looking bed with metal frames and black sheets.
The only sign of personal possessions was an extensive bookcase, packed, and impeccably arranged. Dimity was almost tempted to go and move one. A glance across at the sleek, black figure of Morgana glowering at her from the end of Miss Hardbroom’s bed, warned her against it.
“Like witch, like familiar..” She chuckled quietly to herself, before settling down under the duvet.
Hecate stared at the lines of words until they blurred on the page. Setting an essay this early in the term had seemed like a good idea for the third years, but clearly they had not yet developed adequate understanding of freezing potions and the relevant theory.
Letting her quill fall onto the desk, Hecate relented to the fatigue. She was halfway through the year group, and lacking the energy to trawl through another misconception about ice crystallisation. She made a mental note to set her class some additional reading Thursday morning.
Hecate gently flicked open the watch at the end of her chain. Almost 1 o’ clock in the morning. No wonder her eyes felt so heavy, and yet her mind still whirled with anxiety. Her usual rounds of the castle would perhaps set her more at ease.
Dimity pulled the duvet further over herself, Hecate’s room was awfully cold. Didn’t the potions mistress have any heating? Or even a fireplace? She reached a hand to the floor under her bed and pulled the digital watch up to eye level. By peering in the dark, she could just about make out the figures of 01:25.
Dimity rubbed her eyes wearily and looked up towards the bed in the centre of the room. Still unoccupied, save Morgana, who was still guarding her Mistress’ territory. She frowned, surely even Hecate would have turned in by now, especially after the day they’d had.
The memory of Mildred attempting to extinguish Miss Hardbroom’s smoke spell this morning made her giggle. It would be Mildred Hubble. And it would be HB she threw water over. Checking that the morning alarm was set, Dimity returned the watch to its place on the floor and curled up under the sheets.
Hecate’s heels clicked quietly along the corridor. Thankfully, it seemed the girls felt the same exhaustion that she did. Normally the room sharing meant girls would stay up frequently for midnight chats, and being unable to send them back to separate rooms had become extremely frustrating.
Turning a corner, Hecate stalled at the sound of hushed voices, emanating from a third year dorm two doors down. Silently, she moved along the corridor, coming to a halt outside the door.
“-was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen! I’m surprised HB didn’t melt!”
At the sound of giggles, Hecate swung the door open, and unleashed a glare at the girls as they jumped fearfully into their beds.
“This temporary arrangement is not an excuse for the blatant disregard of rules.. If you are all so full of energy perhaps you should be set a few hundred lines.”
There was a pause as she surveyed the third year duo with a harsh stare.
“Sorry Miss Hardbroom.” It was Samantha Toadsten, Hecate recalled having just marked her essay. Lacking depth of knowledge but the most encouraging of the class. She had been pleased at the work, at least, compared to that of her peers.
“Sorry, Miss Hardbroom.” Hecate recognised the quieter, more cautious voice as the one who she’d heard from outside.
“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She responded coldly, leaving the room and closing the door with a snap of her fingers.
Silence reigned through the subsequent corridors. Moonlight beaming through the shutterless windows glowed against the walls. On nights like this there was no need for a light. Not that darkness made her uncomfortable, any such fears had been wormed out of her at a young age.
Passing the staff quarters, Hecate came to a stop outside a door sign freshly engraved with Miss Marigold Mould. There was no sound from inside. Just the same peaceful silence as took over the castle while the inhabitants slept, and all mischief and trouble was suspended. Until the following day, at least.
Continuing on her rounds, Hecate passed the chambers of Miss Bat and Mr Rowan-Webb, it gave her solace to know that her colleagues were getting some well-earned rest, after an evening of frantic searching for the stone. Hecate couldn’t help but feel guilty, she was Ada’s deputy, second-in-command and yet she had let this happen. She should have guarded it herself, especially with Miss Mould’s arrival.
Not far from her own room, Hecate spotted light blaring through the partly-open door to Miss Cackle’s office. Filled with concern, she hurried to the end of the corridor, prepared to confront anyone who’d deigned to break into her Headmistress’ office, be it pupil or frivolous new art teacher.
Swinging the door open fully, Hecate softened at the sight of Ada, her beloved Ada, slumped and asleep on her favourite armchair next to the fire. A newspaper fallen to her lap, and glasses still resting precariously on the end of her nose. The sight of Ada’s pink cardigan chest rising and falling peacefully brought a smile to Hecate’s lips.
It warmed her to see Ada’s features relieved of the harsh tension and worried frown that had dominated since Miss Bat’s news this morning. Hecate moved slowly towards the armchair, reluctant to wake her. She set the newspaper onto the coffee table and placed a tentative hand on Ada’s arm.
“Ada…”
Worry flashed across her mind. What if Ada would be angry at Hecate for waking her? She forced herself to banish the idea, she knew Ada, she trusted Ada. The years of trust and care would not be undone by the wrongdoings of the elder Cackle sister. Hecate refused to let Agatha’s games subconsciously erode her trust in Ada.
Her mental battle was rewarded when Ada’s blue eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing her deputy, a loving smile spread across her face. Hecate could only beam in return.
“Hecate, my dear” She glanced down at the faded blue armchair and then back to the younger witch.
“I must have dozed off.. “ Ada caught Hecate’s hand as it left her arm, and squeezed it gently.
“You must have been tired, it’s been a rather trying day..” Hecate knelt down in front of the arm chair, and curled her other hand round Ada’s warm clasp.
“I’m so sorry, Ada, about the Founding Stone, I should have made sure it was better protected, I-”
Ada stopped her with a gentle touch to her chin, as she turned Hecate’s downcast expression up to meet her eyes.
“You are not to blame yourself, Hecate, this was in no way your fault.” Her voice was kind, but stern. She trailed her thumb across the defined cheekbones of the younger witch.
“But-”
“I don’t want to hear another word of it, my love”
Hecate melted into her caress at the endearment, Ada’s hand felt so tender and comforting. She wished for nothing more than to curl up against the older witch, and not let go until all the dilemmas and quandary had been resolved.
“Come and sit with me” Ada’s eyes gleamed as she patted her lap. Her expression amused when Hecate stood up to her full height, fighting the rouged tint flourishing on her pale complexion.
“Ada surely that wouldn’t be-”
“Please.” The word said with such loving it crumbled Hecate’s resolve, she allowed Ada to guide her onto her lap, legs hanging off the chair arm.
Ada moved her hands to remove the pins holding Hecate’s hair in a tight bun, satisfied as she loosened the plaited strands and ran her fingers through it.
Hecate leaned close and pressed a chaste kiss to Ada’s neck, borrowing into her shoulder.
Ada’s arms wrapping round her, and her voice whispering soothing words into the younger witch’s ear drew Hecate out from the rigid tension and fierce demeanour she held as deputy head.
Hecate knew, in that moment, there was nowhere she felt safer than in the arms of Ada Cackle. And if she closed her eyes for more than a second, she would certainly fall into the clutches of sleep.
“My Hecate…” Ada murmured, voice weary.
The words reverberated through Hecate, making her heart soar from beneath her chest. She kissed the soft pink fabric covering the skin of Ada’s shoulder. Lifting her head, she met Ada’s tired eyes.
“I love you.”
No louder than a whisper, before she nuzzled back into Ada’s shoulder, as if timorous of her own vulnerable admission.
“And I love you, my darling.” The older witch twisted her head to place a kiss on Hecate’s forehead. She could hear the fatigue in Ada’s voice, but she wrestled with herself for just a few more minutes.
As Ada stifled yet another yawn, Hecate ceded to reason. She couldn’t have Ada falling asleep at her desk the next day, or worse; during assembly.
“Ada…” Gently nudging her, Hecate discovered the other witch was half asleep.
“Yes, dear” Ada’s eyes opened wearily.
“We should get you to bed… May I?” She raised her hand, transference spell readied in her mind.
“Mhmmm..” Ada dipped her head forward in agreement.
Hecate transferred them to the Headmistress’ room, landing them softly on Ada’s bed. Not even daring to glance at the time, she slid off Ada’s lap and watched as the older witch muttered a changing spell, voice groggy.
Pulling the covers over, Hecate watched Ada attentively. Her own lassitude second to the desperation to care for her Headmistress, just as Ada cared for her.
Just as she tucked the covers back over, Hecate perched on the edge of the bed. Ada’s blue eyes shone up at her, glinting in the moonlight.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean down, and kiss her. Once their lips met, Hecate was drawn in by the passion as Ada responded. Pulling her deeper, until Hecate had to withdraw to calm her flushed features and fluttering heart.
Kissing the knuckles of Ada’s hand, she released it and stood, glancing back down at the bed.
“Sleep well, Ada.” Hecate smiled, raising a hand ready for transference.
“Won’t you stay with me?” Ada’s gentle voice stopped her in her tracks.
“I- if you- of course.” The prospect of sleeping in Ada’s arms was not something Hecate could turn away from.
A short wave of the hand switched her long dress with a short, black nightdress, and she eagerly slid into bed beside Ada, as the older witch shuffled across.
Hecate closed the distance between them, entwining herself in Ada’s limbs, one leg between her thighs, one protectively over the top, pulling them closer together.
Ada’s body heat felt like heaven. As Hecate pressed closer, the older witch drew her into a kiss.
Shamelessly overwhelmed with adoration, as the two lovers settled down to sleep, nestled against each other like two parts of a jigsaw, Hecate silently thanked the first years, and Dimity Drill for their predicaments.
Through the panic of the Founding Stone’s disappearance, the debacles of the first years, and all of the unremitting trials that Cackles provided, she would always have Ada.