You Stole My Cauldron But You Can't Have My Heart
Celestina fluffed her hair and winked at the audience before finally taking her bow, the last notes of the accompanying sax still ringing in her ears.
"Thank you!" she mouthed amid cheering and applause. She felt electric, buzzing from head to toe. No matter how many times she performed, it always made her feel as if she could fly without a broomstick or a magic carpet to aid her.
The curtains fell and she hurried off stage, dabbing at her brow with a handkerchief kindly provided by Charles.
"You were wonderful, as always, my dear," Charles said, his blue eyes gleaming with delight. He was a tall man with cropped blond hair and a perpetual smile upon his face. He'd been managing her music career for the last three years and she trusted him with her life.
Celestina kissed the air beside his cheek.
"Thank you, darling; thank you so much." She winked at him, enjoying the way he blushed.
"Now, where is that sweet wife of mine?" Celestina asked. For some reason Charles frowned, but he tilted his head toward the backstage rooms.
"She's changing, I believe," Charles said.
Celestina quirked a brow and took off for Flavia's dressing room.
"Darling wife!" she sang as she approached, whipping her wand free from where it had been pinned into the bun in her hair. "Oh, babe," she crooned into it, "you've charmed the heart right out of me."
Flavia burst out of the door of her dressing room, outfit half undone.
"Tina!" Flavia cried and fanned herself with one of the feather boas all of the backing dancers wore. "I've been waiting for you."
She took Celestina's arm, wrapping the boa around them both. "A masterful performance. The critics will be singing your praises so loudly they'll be heard back in England."
Celestina marched toward her dressing room. Flavia was wearing the powder blue outfit of her backing dancers — it was how they'd met. As they approached, Flavia span, rolling her shoulders seductively, and performed the last few steps of the dance to A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love. There was some sort of ruckus occuring behind her, but Celestina couldn't take her eyes off of her enchantress of a wife.
"Come and dance with me, my spectacular Singing Sorceress," Flavia purred.
Celestina surged forward and tumbled them into her dressing room, pinning Flavia up against the door.
"Oh, baby, we'll dance the night away together," Celestina answered and captured Flavia's lips in a kiss.
Celestina awoke in her hotel room to the sound of someone hissing down the phone.
"Don't you dare say a word," Flavia growled into the mouthpiece. She sounded furious.
"Flav?" Celestina murmured, blinking awake. She hid a yawn behind her hand and pushed the duvet away. The other side of the bed was empty and cold. "Are you alright, darling?"
Immediately, Flavia hung up the phone, twisting to glare at Celestina.
"What?" Flavia snapped.
Celestina raised her eyebrows. "Who was that?"
With a glance at the phone, Flavia laughed, high and gay. "Oh, no one." She shook her head as if to clear it and smiled. Celestina frowned at the abrupt change in demeanour. "Nothing to worry about, my wonderful wife."
She crossed the room, pressing Celestina back into the bed.
"I find that answer vague and unconvincing. You sounded worried," Celestina said from where she lay amid cushions and pillows. Flavia curled into the bed beside her, a reassuring warmth. Her silk scarf was wrapped around her as a throw.
"I'm just organising a surprise," Flavia murmured, burrowing her face into the crook of Celestina's neck. "Did I wake you? I'm so sorry."
Celestina stared at the ceiling even as she wrapped an arm around Flavia. It hadn't sounded like nothing — it hadn't sounded like anything good at all.
"You will tell me if you're in some sort of trouble, won't you? I hate to see you hurt."
Flavia snorted. "It's nothing to worry about, Celestina." She sounded weary. "Just go back to sleep."
Celestina closed her eyes and rolled over, cocooning Flavia in their duvet. She kept silent, but thoughts spun about her head like a million busy billywigs and she hardly got a wink of sleep.
"Celestina, there's really something I must talk to you about," Charles said, wringing his hands. They were sitting in The Blind Pig, a dingy little speakeasy that was host to all manner of creatures; goblins, Veela, and a lone centaur.
Celestina was eying the stage. It wasn't her usual type of venue, but it would be an opportunity to explore some of her more soulful music on a stage that lived for jazz and the blues.
"Celestina, are you even listening to me?" He seemed anxious, a worried frown marring his face. "Look, I really don't know how to tell you this, my dear."
Celestina sipped her drink. It was an Aperol Spritz; not her drink of choice, but Flavia's, who'd order nothing else. Celestina had taken to drinking it out of ease and convenience. She set the drink aside.
"Not now, Charles," Celestina said. She stood abruptly. "I'm heading back."
Charles winced. "Now, see, this is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."
Celestina narrowed her eyes at him and spun on one foot, sweeping out of the building. Charles was a kind man who was very dear to her, but sometimes he could truly natter on about nonsense. With a pivot on one heel the moment she cleared The Blind Pig's Apparition wards, Celestina returned to the hotel they were staying in while touring America. She stepped out of the Apparition corner and took the lift up to their floor.
She was determined to find out what was wrong with Flavia, to see if there was anything she could do to help. She wouldn't be brushed off — Celestina was famous and influential — surely there was something that she could do.
The lift arrived on their floor and she strode toward the door, which opened upon recognition of her wand.
"Flavia!" Celestina called. "Are you in?"
The parlour was empty, so she pushed open the door to their bedroom. Her heart stopped upon the sight that greeted her.
"Tina!" Flavia exclaimed. She lay on their bed, beneath the covers, and beside her lay a naked man.
Celestina's jaw dropped. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand.
"Flavia? Are you — what are you doing?"
The man in the bed gave her a lazy once-over. "Well, hello, gorgeous," he said, with a voice like sin. "I'm Dean. Want to join us?"
In an instant, Celestina recognised him and she narrowed her eyes. "Mr Martin?" she hissed. "So much for that collaboration our managers were discussing."
Dean tilted his head and he raised his eyebrows. "You're Celestina Warbeck?"
"Get gone, Dean," Flavia said, her voice high and panicked. She scrambled from the bed herself, pulling on a pink, satin robe.
Dean slid out from beneath the covers and drew on his trousers.
"Not what you were expecting?" Celestina said sharply, then turned to her wife. "A Muggle, Flavia, really?"
"A famous one," Flavia countered. "He'll make me famous too and he sure won't relegate me to backing dancer."
"Won't he?" Celestina said, even as she felt as if her heart was ripping in two. "Is that was he told you?"
"Sure thing, baby," Dean said. "I can take you places, show you the world. You can't sing, though, baby." He smirked. "But you sure can dance."
A stricken look crossed Flavia's face. "What?" she stuttered, as if she'd been expecting something else. Dean sauntered out the door; he likely hadn't even realised he'd slept with someone who'd promised themselves to another. Women couldn't marry each other in the Muggle world, after all.
"You better go with him," Celestina snapped. "Expect papers for a divorce tomorrow and rest assured, you sure as hell won't get a job on our side of the world ever again, not while I'm famous. After all, who would turn down the request of the 'spectacular Singing Sorceress'?"
She thought back on their time together, all the little hints she'd failed to see. How long had this been going on? Her stomach churned and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. She swallowed and straightened her back, fixing Flavia with a fierce glare.
"Get out," Celestina hissed. "And don't ever come back."
Despite her words, Flavia stayed frozen to the spot, eyes wide and panicked. Perhaps she had thought that Dean would take her with him. However, he was famous, rich, and good looking, and it was evident to Celestina that Flavia had been nothing but a fling to him. He hadn't cared that he'd been caught in flagrante delicto, nor truly should he be. He would recover from this indelicacy and remain living the showbiz life of glamour and intrigue.
Flavia, however… Celestina would ruin her for this.
She still stood in the hotel room, looking betrayed and uncertain.
"Leave me," Celestina whispered. Flavia didn't move until Celestina drew her wand.
"Leave!" she shouted, pain burning her up inside until she fuelled her anger with its embers. "Go!"
Sparks flew from the end of her wand and there were a thousand curses on the tip of her tongue that she wished to utter.
Flavia fled the room. The moment Celestina heard the door click shut behind her, she sank onto the floor. She stared at her hands as they began to shake.
"How could she?" Celestina whispered. Tears streamed down her face as she wept for the love she'd believed she'd had. "How could you?" she screamed louder, throwing one of her shoes at the wall. It clattered to the carpet, a fruitless gesture.
"I've got a cauldron of hot, strong love," she mumbled to herself amid hiccups. "Well, you stole my cauldron, that's for sure."
She felt as if she were trapped in a nightmare, as if a Dementor had crept its way into her life. Perhaps she had been poisoned, or cursed, for what else could explain the pain in her chest, as if her heart was being shredded by a herd of hungry hippogriffs?
Burying her face into her arms, she sobbed until she could cry no more, tears dried, her hands no longer shaking. She took a breath to calm herself.
"I will survive," Celestina vowed to herself. She would be strong; she would continue on. Flavia had taken her love and spat on it, but she would not take what remained of her heart.
Word Count: 1766
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