They sat in her office drinking their usual nightly cups of chamomile and watching the twilight loom. Ada sighed in contentment. She'd grown accustomed to this; the steady companionship that never faded as the seasons crawled by, the solid protective presence of her deputy by her side. Ada could think of nothing better than to spend a lifetime with Hecate in her office, heartbeats set to synchronise and matching breath for breath. Ada was grateful that such a talented witch would bury herself in Ada's own little academy and selfishly hoped she'd never leave.
Nobody could see the beauty of the woman the way that she could, nobody knew her so well as Ada. Only she knew what lay behind the carefully concealed mask, the glimmer of expression she seldom indulged in but Ada knew when she did with just a hint of a twitch of an eyebrow or at the corner of her mouth. There was something magical about the way her gaze softened on the rare occasion and Ada could kid herself that it was for her. Hecate never looked like that at anyone else. Just the way that the autumn light flickered through the windows, highlighting the graceful planes of her face, was something that Ada could observe all day. She revelled unabashedly in the feeling that she could see Hecate in a way that no one else did, making sure never to show the extent of it in public.
Her greatest comfort was knowing that Hecate was at her side, faithfully holding her up as she stumbled through headmistress life.
Sometimes she wished that she could be sure that Hecate felt the same way. Other times she shied away from the thought of the horrified rejection for Hecate Hardbroom was just not built for love. She was barely built to be loved but somehow, Ada did love her. How much, she could never be sure. But their days came with comfortable silences, cats and teacups, a good measure of trust and intimacy and Ada had to be content with that.
The day she would see more than a lingering spark in her deputy's eyes would be the day that Ada would throw caution to the wind and move a step closer. But for now, they stayed suspended in their own little bubble, chess pieces hovering around each other on a board.
'Everything alright, headmistress?'
Ada smiled indulgently at her questioning colleague. Hecate really did have a marshmallow heart. It was hidden under an icy lake most of the time but it was there, shooting out lightning flashes of genuine care in the most unexpected ways.
'Happy to be alive, Miss Hardbroom, that's all.'
She noted the flicker of concern in her eyes and quelled it with a nod to the window.
'Quite the scenery.'
She knew that Hecate appreciated this time of evening. It was murky and enchanting, much like her, her natural habitat. Miss Hardbroom nodded and stared out of the window. She understood the beauty of the harmony of the evening.
'I'll start patrolling the corridors very soon. Do you require anything else, Miss Cackle?'
Ada longed for that voice to call her by her first name. Sometimes she could hear it in her sleep, that's how much she wanted it.
'Headmistress?' Miss Hardbroom tilted her head slightly, in the manner of an anxious puppy. Her colleague was behaving rather oddly tonight. Miss Cackle was a wonderful person; gentle, astute and possessing some qualities that Hecate did not. A little fey on occasion, a little indulgent but Hecate liked that someone so gentle could temper her own sharp character. Her fondness for Ada was unparalleled, she who was as distant as Avalon. Ada was her anchor to the world around her. The only one who could bring her back from her misty island of potions, to the noisy real world.
Ada snapped back to reality, shook her head and thanked her, watching her place her cup carefully down on the saucer and disappear into thin air. Ada sighed, wishing that she could hear Hecate's footsteps more often. The disappearing trick was clever but so impersonal. Hecate preferred to lavish the delicate touch on her potions; leaving less time for other people, impervious to how she was thought of. To a lot of things, really. But then it made the softer moments much sweeter for it. Ada just wished that it came around a little more often.
She filled the teacup and raised it to her lips. Hecate's teacup. Just a trace of her lingering on, not in the usual way of people. No lipstick stains for Hecate. It was the magic that had stained her lips, marking out her power. Breathing in the calming chamomile, Ada could feel the gust of Hecate's breath and the touch of her fingers that had held the cup just moments before. She had never told anyone that she drank from Hecate's cup after she was gone. It was an intimacy she needed in solitude.