The moment seemed so fragile that neither of them dared to move.
Santana was having trouble breathing. Brittany, on the other hand, stood calm and watchful. There was a soft and affectionate smile on her lips. Their eyes roved over one another and drank in every inch, only to lift once more and meet the other's gaze.
The stone had worked; she was back. Granted, she was not quite flesh but she was undeniably solid. The blades of grass bent beneath her feet and she cast a faint shadow across the ground.
Hesitantly, Santana allowed herself to step closer. Brittany followed suit and met her in the middle. The brunette raised her left hand between them and held it as still as she could while her whole body trembled. Her wife did the same with her right and slowly brought their palms together. The touch was cooler and lighter than it should have been but she could feel her.
That brief connection was all it took. A grateful cry escaped Santana and she grabbed the back of Brittany's neck to pull the blonde's face to hers. The kiss made her knees go weak and her head spin but she didn't dare to let go. Her free hand clung desperately to the Resurrection Stone, knowing that if she released it her lover would disappear again.
"I missed you," she whispered. As her mouth opened to utter the words, she tasted salt from tears she didn't know she had shed.
"I missed you, too," Brittany murmured while she pressed one hand against Santana's cheek.
The other woman's eyes caught sight of the gash on the opposite side and her mouth turned down in a little frown.
"You're hurt," she noted. "What happened to you?"
Santana averted her eyes in shame.
"It's been a long, hard search finding a way to bring you back to me," she explained vaguely to avoid having to give a direct answer. "So much for looking my best when I got the chance to see you again..."
Brittany shook her head dismissively.
"You look beautiful, Santana," she assured her. "Just like always."
The brunette felt her face grow warm as her wife grinned at her. Brittany tenderly kissed the injured cheek and then reached down to take her hand.
"So, where do we go first?"
The shorter woman thought for a moment. Then her face lit up and she gave her spouse's fingers an eager squeeze.
"Follow me."
They strode in silence out of the clearing with Santana leading the way. The simple joy of walking together, of falling into step side-by-side, was almost too sweet to bear. They left the forest after a while but didn't come to a complete halt until they had reached the edge of the lake. All of the students were busy with classes inside the school so they had the grounds to themselves. The sunlight bounced off the water and the breeze stirred its surface, causing the light to dance prettily on the tiny waves that the wind created.
"Why here?" Brittany asked as they both admired the view.
"This is where we first met," Santana replied. "Don't you remember?"
"Of course I do."
...
The bank was crowded with countless First Years all chattering away excitedly as they clambered into the little boats. Hagrid, the new students' guide, paced along the line calling out instructions and grouping them all off into small clusters. Santana was standing alone and craning her neck as though looking for friends when she knew that she had none. The impossibly tall grounds keeper pointed to the brunette and put her with a trio of equally frightened girls. One was even shorter than her with straight brown hair and a prominent nose and another - who for some reason looked vaguely familiar - had a carefully-arranged appearance and long, pale blonde hair that she kept tossing over her shoulders. The third was Brittany.
Even then, she was striking. Thin and leggy, she was at least three inches taller than half the students bustling along the sand. Her sleek, blonde hair fairly glowed in the light of the lanterns and the smile that she flashed at Santana when they were placed in the same group was instantly disarming.
"Hi," she began immediately when they were close enough to speak. "I'm Brittany. What's your name?"
"Santana Lopez," the dark haired girl answered, emphasizing her surname with pureblood pride.
"It's nice to meet you," Brittany said, still grinning, clearly unaware that she was supposed to be impressed.
"I'm Rachel Berry," interjected the other brunette that Hagrid had put with them.
"Pleasure," Santana snarled in return, making it clear that was one thing it was not.
"Quinn Fabray," stated the fourth girl, completing the introductions.
Oh, that explains it, thought Santana. Fabray. Another pureblood.
She and Quinn exchanged curt nods of recognition, having both made the connection to their common thread.
They all shook hands awkwardly and only Brittany seemed legitimately delighted by this arrangement. They climbed into the waiting boat, faltering occasionally as they decided where each of them would sit. Ultimately, Rachel took the seat nearest to the front. She locked her brown eyes on the outline of the school in the distance and refused to look away. Quinn sat at the back, clearly inclined to keep to herself for the duration of the journey. This left Brittany and Santana in the middle and seated next to each other as the boats pulled away from the shore.
"So what house do you think you'll be placed in?" Brittany asked eagerly as she nudged her companion good-naturedly in the ribs.
Santana was taken aback by how instantly at ease this girl was making herself, acting as if they had been friends for ages, but somehow she didn't find the behavior off-putting.
"Slytherin," she responded easily. "That's where my entire family has gone."
"No surprise," muttered Quinn but a sharp look from Santana silenced her.
"Slytherin?" Rachel asked worriedly as she faced them for the first time. "I thought that was the house where all the... unpleasant students were placed."
"Don't believe everything you hear," Santana replied. "Some are just driven and willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to get where they want to be."
"Well, that I could understand," the irritating girl determined brightly. "I myself would give anything to achieve my greatest dreams. No cost is too great."
"How inspiring," the cocky pureblood drawled.
"Thank you," Rachel beamed, unaware of the slight. The petite student's attention returned to the castle. Santana looked at Brittany and rolled her eyes. Her companion giggled and the brunette decided that maybe this girl was all right.
All the way across the water, her new friend talked her ear off happily. The blonde frequently accompanied her comments with a brush of the arm or a hand on the other girl's knee. Santana was unaccustomed to such affectionate familiarity but she allowed herself to enjoy the attention cautiously.
When at last they reached their destination and entered Hogwarts for the first time, she was surprised to feel slender fingers intertwine suddenly with hers - Brittany was squeezing her hand. The brunette drew comfort from the fact that this meant she was not the only one getting a sudden case of the jitters. The immense doors were swung wide before them and they entered the Great Hall with the rest of the incoming students.
Candles floated overhead and the ceiling twinkled with the stars that shone in the night sky. It took the girls' breath away. A sea of faces turned toward them as they passed, sizing them up and attempting to determine whether they were destined to become a friend or a foe. At the far end of the room, a stool was waiting with an old, worn-out lump of cloth sitting atop it: the Sorting Hat.
As was customary, the hat sang a tune for the First Years detailing the qualities possessed by members of each house. Then it was time for the placement to commence. Rachel Berry was called first and she fairly leapt forward to learn her fate.
"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat cried and she sprang from her seat and made her way toward the appropriate table. Right away, she began to converse with a couple of perturbed Sixth Years, both of whom tried their level best to ignore her. Santana's lip curled.
Great, just what I need. So help me, if we're in the same dorm...
Her thoughts were interrupted as the next sorting occurred. She silenced her mental complaints so she could pay attention. Her palms were growing sweaty but the press of Brittany's skin against hers somehow steadied her pulse. She gripped the girl's hand with appreciative force and granted the blonde a small smile.
Five Gryffindors and another Slytherin later, it was Quinn Fabray's turn to be sorted.
"Ravenclaw!" the hat exclaimed. She was the first of the night. The rows of her peers exploded with applause and happily cleared room for another intellectual among their number.
And so it went on. Santana tried to remember the order as the evening progressed: Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw...
Then her name was called.
Her throat went dry. She was dimly aware of Brittany extracting her fingers from her painful grasp and gently pushing her in the direction of the stool. On shaky legs, Santana made her way to the spot and sat down heavily. Her hands trembled as she put the hat on her head.
A moment later, just as she had predicted, it placed her in Slytherin. Half-blinded by her cross-eyed relief, Santana stumbled in the direction of her awaiting table. She drummed her hands against her thighs as she sat waiting for the only other outcome that mattered to her now.
A few names later, it was Brittany's time to go and Santana's pulse kicked into double-time. The happy young girl bounded up to the stool and tugged the Sorting Hat into place. Her Slytherin companion crossed her fingers in her lap, all the while praying for a miracle.
"Hufflepuff!" the hat concluded at last and Santana's heart sank to her stomach. Her first new acquaintance and already they were being separated.
Brittany hopped off the stool and walked toward the beckoning students calling her name, but not before pausing to give Santana a regretful little wave. The sad brunette returned the gesture.
Later, when all the students had at last been sorted, the dark haired girl was dumbfounded as Brittany left the Hufflepuff table to join her for dinner. This earned her a great many whispers and several unkind jeers but she neither seemed to notice nor care.
"Brittany," Santana cautioned her in an undertone. "Students from different houses aren't supposed to eat together."
"Well, they do now," the other girl replied around a mouthful of pumpkin pasty. "I want to eat my first Hogwarts meal with you."
The brunette was overcome by a surge of affection and issued no further protest. She dug into the food herself and contentedly allowed the blonde to dominate the conversation for the rest of the night. Brittany proved even more charming and funny than she had initially estimated, and from that point on Santana happily awarded her the mental title of best friend.
...
Resurfacing from her vivid memory, Santana blinked rapidly to clear her blurry vision. She glanced at her spouse and saw that Brittany, too, appeared overcome by emotion as she stared wistfully at the stone structure on the opposite side of the lake.
Sensing the other woman's eyes on her, the blonde turned to meet her gaze.
"The moment that started it all," Santana marveled with a laugh and a shrug. "Who knew?"
"I did."
The brunette's smile returned and she tugged Brittany in for another kiss.
At last, the dark haired woman reluctantly broke the connection to ask a question that had been troubling her mind.
"Britt, we really need to get back but I can't hold onto the stone while I fly. If I call you to me once I've returned, will you still be able to come?"
Her wife nodded.
"I'll come back," the blonde assured her. "I promise."
"Okay," Santana agreed while biting her lip.
She slid the stone deep into the pocket of her pants and Brittany vanished. A momentary pang stabbed her chest but she comforted herself with the fact that it was only for a little while.
Lovingly, she patted the spot where the stone rested against her thigh.
"Come on, Brittany," she said aloud. "Let's go home."
... ... ...
The house was even more of a wreck than it had been when Santana left it. Now, instead of being merely untidy and cluttered, it also had a thin film of dust over every flat surface and bird droppings from owls that had delivered the mail in her absence. She sighed heavily as she surveyed the mess, too exhausted from the flight home to see to it straight away.
Her footsteps echoed through the vacant rooms as she made her way to the kitchen. Piles of letters were strewn across her countertop, waiting to be opened. A quick scan of the envelopes told her that the most recent was from Quinn Fabray. With a scarcely-suppressed eye roll, she picked it up and tugged it open.
Santana,
I haven't seen you at the Ministry lately. I asked around and found out you took an extended vacation. Did you go somewhere? Maybe that's good for you, getting out of the house and away from the memories. Still, I'd feel better if I could just hear from you. I'm not trying to be a nuisance, I swear. I just want to help.
Your Friend,
Quinn
Santana gave a short, quick laugh at the other woman's choice of words in her signature. She turned her attention to the other letters in the pile. Aside from that unwanted offer, the rest of the notes appeared to be more condolences from people who had taken a while to hear the news. After skimming through a few, she swept the lot into the nearest drawer and shut it tightly.
She was by no means in a cleaning mood, so she flicked her wand around the room and allowed the house to take care of itself. The sooner everything was tidy, the sooner she would feel comfortable bringing Brittany back to see what had become of the place where they both once lived. For the moment, her bed was calling too loudly to be ignored so Santana readily succumbed. Her feet carried her to her bedroom and the mattress within, where she flopped down gratefully. She fell asleep almost before her body made contact with the sheets.
In what seemed like no time at all, the brunette awoke to a shrill noise sounding directly into her eardrum. She snarled and buried her face in her arms, hoping to block it out. Something clamped down on her earlobe and it promptly exploded in pain. Santana jerked up immediately and pressed her fingertips to the injury.
The owl that had assigned itself the role of alarm clock maintained its position beside her on the bed and glared severely. The dark haired woman looked down at her hand and saw that, for the second time that week, her head was bleeding.
"Shit, Athena!" she swore angrily at Quinn's pet. She held out her bloodied fingers to show the creature the damage it had done but the animal appeared unmoved. "Where's the fire? Why did you have to wake me up?"
The owl stuck out its leg, where a rolled up piece of parchment was tied, and shook it impatiently. Santana untied the note and opened it, scanning the contents.
Santana,
Look, I know you need space and time to deal with everything but I don't want you to sacrifice your job in the process. The Wizengamot will only understand for so long. Now that you're your only source of income, I don't like to think about what will happen to you if they decide they've had enough. Just come back to the Ministry. You have friends here, you know, whether you like to count them as such or not. If not them, you at least have me. Don't roll your eyes, either, because it's true. Just WRITE BACK TO ME, you git, and I promise I'll stop bothering you.
Quinn
Athena squawked again as she finished the letter and the bird gave the woman a meaningful look.
"Oh, fine," Santana snapped. "Here, take this and then take off."
She fished around in her nightstand for the container of scraps she kept for the purpose. With her lip curled in annoyance, she tossed a few to the hungry owl who gulped them down greedily. The satisfied creature immediately spread its wings and flew from the room while it released a final cry in farewell.
Once her company was gone, the widow climbed out of bed to make sure that the house had been successfully straightened while she slept. When she was satisfied with what she saw, Santana waved her wand again and brought the cleaning supplies to rest.
Now all that remained was to get herself ready. She went to her closet, picked out a clean yellow dress, and then went to take a shower. Never had doing something so commonplace felt so wonderful. The month's grime finally washed away and the warm water brought comfort down to her very bones. When she was glistening and clean, she stepped out and dried off, examining herself in the mirror as she did so.
She had lost a significant amount of weight during her search. The lower half of her ribcage protruded beneath the skin and her cheekbones stood out more prominently on her face. Her full lips turned down in a frown, which only deepened when her eyes caught sight of that bothersome scar. The Resurrection Stone had certainly left its mark, marring her beauty with a jagged line from the bottom of her ear to just above her chin. Though Santana tried to cover it with make-up, the wound was still not sufficiently healed to prevent such attempts from causing a sting. Oh well. It would have to do.
Once she was dressed and reasonably presentable, the brunette reached into her discarded pants for the precious object still stored in the pocket. Her brown eyes closed instinctively as she called up her wife's image and turned the stone over again: once, twice, and thrice.
"Wow," Brittany commented after she appeared a few feet away. "It looks even better than I remembered."
"I may have cleaned just a little beforehand," Santana admitted with a shrug.
"And you're wearing the dress I bought you," the blonde noted happily.
"Yeah, I am. Do you like it?"
"It fits exactly like I thought it would. You didn't get to wear it before... before what happened. I'm glad I get to see you in it."
Her long legs carried her across the short distance between them in a second. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist with a grin. The brunette mirrored the expression before she pressed their lips together contentedly.
This was what she had missed most of all: the little moments.
The blonde spun them both in circles on the spot and hummed into her wife's ear. Then her bright eyes fell on the scroll of parchment on the nightstand and she paused.
"What's that?"
"Oh, just another letter from Quinn. The owls have been coming non-stop. You'd think I was running an aviary with as many birds as there have been coming in and out of here."
"She's a good friend," Brittany said, smiling softly. "I'm glad to know she's around to take care of you."
"I don't need her to take care of me," Santana protested. "I can handle things on my own."
And there was that soul-piercing gaze, so familiar that she didn't even have to look up to know that it was being leveled on her.
"Just write back to her, okay? For me?"
She nodded reluctantly and was thanked for her acquiescence with a kiss.
"Dance with me," the brunette whispered and the other woman readily complied.
They turned slowly around the room and fell easily into a matching rhythm. A smile spread immediately across the dark haired woman's face. It only widened when she saw how Brittany glowed with the thrill of the movement, having perhaps missed dancing second only to her longing for Santana.
The shorter woman leaned against her partner's shoulder and allowed her eyes to close as a distant memory swam to the surface of her consciousness.
...
They were around fourteen years old and winter was upon them. She had snuck into Brittany's dormitory for the umpteenth time and they were huddled under a blanket on the floor looking out the window together.
"I love it when it snows," the blonde murmured. "It gets so quiet and everything outside looks like it's covered in sugar."
Santana nodded and leaned in closer to her friend for warmth. The stone floor was chill beneath her bare feet, so she tucked them up against her thighs. Her companion noted her discomfort and she pulled the blanket tighter around their bodies.
"I'm really dreading the holidays, Britt."
"It's too bad your parents wouldn't let you come stay with us. I wanted my dad to take us sledding."
"That would have been nice," the brunette agreed quietly. "But my mother insisted that I come home. I can't even begin to understand why. It's not as if anyone would notice I was missing."
Brittany frowned and wrapped her arms around her. Santana batted her eyes and sniffled once while she fought valiantly to hold back the tears.
"Sometimes I wish I could just live with you when I'm not here," she admitted. "I know I'd be a hell of a lot happier."
"Sometimes I wish that, too."
"I don't know what I'd do without you. Half the time, I'm pretty sure you're the only one that even gives a damn that I'm alive."
"That's not true," Brittany protested. "Of course there are people that care about you. You're special, Santana."
The dark haired girl shook her head adamantly.
"You're the special one, Britt-Britt. I swear, I can't for the life of me figure out why you waste your time on me."
"Because I love you," the blonde stated simply with a shrug of her narrow shoulders.
Santana's head jerked up at the words. They had said all variations of them in the past but something in the other teen's tone caught the troubled girl's attention. She looked into her friend's eyes and suddenly her stomach was full of butterflies.
She wasn't entirely sure how it happened, or who made the first move, but the next thing she knew their faces were closer than they'd ever been before. Thin, smiling lips brushed against hers and she returned the caress with fervor. For a moment, the only sound was that of their breathing and she felt the other girl's hands tangle in her long, dark hair.
Her heartbeat was causing a searing pain in her chest and so Santana pulled away. Her mouth tried to form something - a sentence, a word, a question, an apology - but nothing would come out. Instead they both broke into nervous laughter and after a few minutes she felt herself slowly start to stabilize.
Brittany interlocked their fingers and looked back out the window. Santana would have loved for everything to just go back to normal after that but already she felt the first icy touch of doubt.
"Does this change things between us?" she asked hesitantly.
"Only if you want it to," her friend replied quietly.
"We're not friends anymore, are we?" she continued anxiously. "Not just friends, anyway."
"I guess not," Brittany mused. "Is that bad?"
Santana took a long look at the girl sitting beside her before responding. She gazed at her unbound blonde hair, which always smelled like wildflowers when they leaned their heads together. Her eyes fell on the mouth that had felt so good pressed to her own and that always seemed to find the right words to say. Lastly, she locked on the eyes that always saw her clearly, even when the masks she wore fooled the rest of the world.
"No," she answered finally. "No, it's not bad at all."
A relieved smile spread across her companion's face and the brunette's heart swelled to bursting. She made her happy.
"Come to the Yule Ball with me," Brittany urged. "You and I were trying to work out dates anyway. Now we don't have to. We'll go together."
Fear gripped at Santana's chest and throat. Her eyes widened and her mouth became inexplicably dry.
"Like... as a couple?"
"Sure, why not?" the blonde asked with a slightly furrowed brow.
"Because people don't do that around here."
"Who says? Besides, since when have we ever done things the same way as everyone else?"
"I'm not so sure that's such a good idea, Britt. I mean, it's fine for us to go and hang out and all but anything more... They're not ready for that. I'm not ready for that."
Her friend's lip protruded as she heard the rejection but she didn't protest. Santana felt like a complete heel but she couldn't bring herself to change her mind.
"I have to go," she said finally and crossed the room to slip her shoes back onto her feet.
In a moment, she had darted from the room and left Brittany shivering alone in her absence.
...
Guilt flowed from Santana's aching heart and pulsed through her veins. Even after all these years, the way she had fled that day was one of her biggest regrets. She nuzzled her wife's shoulder blade and tried to block out the second recollection that she knew would follow.
The blonde twirling her around their bedroom continued to hum as she reflected. Santana struggled to hold onto that sound, to focus on the sensation of being in the arms of the woman she loved, but to no avail. The memory refused to be ignored.
...
After a few awkward conversations, Brittany had managed to put her at ease and insisted that it was still possible for them to go as friends. They would just have to be careful about how close they got to one another.
The night of the ball, they agreed to meet outside the doors to the Great Hall. Santana took ages carefully arranging her appearance but she still managed to get herself upstairs on time. She had piled her dark locks up at the back of her head with a few ringlets falling free to frame her face. Her strapless, emerald green dress hugged her form pleasantly and her heels added a few extra inches to her average height.
All the preparation was worth it when she saw the look on Brittany's face as she came into view. The blonde's mouth hung slightly agape and she seemed to temporarily forget how to breathe.
"You're beautiful," she blurted out involuntarily and then blushed as she remembered that she was supposed to be exercising discretion. "I mean, you look nice."
"So do you," the brunette returned.
Really nice.
Her golden hair pooled in a mass of thick curls on her shoulders and her salmon pink dress emphasized her already ample figure. Santana tried not to let her eyes linger along the plunging neckline but the temptation was almost too great.
"C'mon," Brittany said as she took the other girl's hand and interrupted her admiring appraisal. "Let's go dance."
The first half hour passed by uneventfully enough with loud, thumping music pulling all the students onto the floor. Quinn was there with a boy from Gryffindor and Rachel was merrily hopping around the hall, attempting to converse with anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path. Santana did her best to ignore them and focused her attention on Brittany and the synchronization of their movements. They were always mindful to keep a small amount of distance between themselves. However, it was readily apparent that they were oblivious to all but one another. After the initial adrenaline rush, the live band began to play some of the slower pieces on their set. That was when the trouble began.
The two girls did not have male partners for this portion of the festivities, and virtually everyone else was there with their dates, so that left only one choice: each other. Brittany held out her arms with a coy little smile and Santana was powerless to resist. She stepped into the embrace and they began to move as one. The flats on the blonde's feet and her own elevated footwear put them at the same height with blue eyes staring deeply into brown.
The nagging voice at the back of her mind tried to caution her against their actions but it didn't seem to matter so much just then. With what was crackling in the air between them, and with the sensation of their torsos gently grazing, what else could possibly be important? Best of all, she could tell that it meant just as much, if not more, to Brittany. She would not pull away this time, if only because she had sworn to herself not to cause her friend that kind of pain again.
The song finished and at last they lowered their arms. Both their faces were alight with irrepressible smiles. Then the worst possible noise broke through the magic: the sound of Rachel Berry's voice.
"Very well done, you two," she remarked as she walked closer to where they stood. "You danced beautifully! Others - like myself, as you might have seen - would have had to string along on their own in your situation or simply sit the dance out altogether. It's refreshing to see two young ladies unafraid of a less conventional way to remedy that dilemma."
Though there was nothing outright insulting about what she was saying, Santana felt her cheeks grow hot. Brittany's eyes flicked back and forth between them and her hands began to anxiously grip the fabric of her dress.
Then they were joined by an even more unexpected party.
"Sweetie," the girls heard Quinn say. "Could you go get us some punch?"
Once her date was out of earshot, the Ravenclaw strode quickly over. Her green gaze went not to Santana's darkening features but to the crestfallen expression Brittany was currently displaying. Then her pupils zeroed in on the petite brunette that had started the incident and her fury was unleashed.
"Hey, house elf, why don't you mind your own business?" she snarled through gritted teeth.
"I didn't mean any offense," Rachel protested while shying away from the intense anger radiating from her adversary. "Brittany and Santana's relationship is wonderfully unique..."
"And it also has nothing to do with you," Quinn cut her off. "So troll away somewhere else and keep your comments to yourself until you find someone who cares. Got it?"
"You're right. It isn't my business. I'm sorry. But, likewise, I don't see how it's any of yours..."
A flaming orange tint began at the arguing blonde's scalp and spread rapidly to the ends of every strand of hair. A few people unfamiliar with this rare ability either jumped or gasped but most simply smirked at the fact that was now abundantly clear: Quinn was pissed.
"It's my business because Brittany is my friend. I'm not going to let you ruin this night for her and I'm not gonna let you bother Santana, either because a friend of Britt's is a friend of mine. That's something you would know nothing about, considering you don't have any. Point being, they're under my watch and you do not want to cross me."
"You're a... you're a...," Rachel stammered, still too fixated on the girl's abrupt change in hair color to process the threat.
"A metamorphmagus," Quinn finished for her. "That's right. And if you know what's best for you, goblin, you'll just walk away before I decide to transform into one of your dorm mates tonight and hex you in your sleep."
The frightened Slytherin did as she was told and disappeared into the crowd with a terrified yelp. Instantly, Quinn was no longer a ginger. She smoothed her dress carefully before turning to the other two girls.
"You're welcome," she said simply and then walked off to find her dance partner.
After that dramatic production, everyone could hardly hide their stares. Santana felt the weight of the countless pairs of eyes upon herself and her best friend. Her vision swam with tears. She dashed out of the hall and toward the dungeons, aware all the while that Brittany was calling for her and following not far behind.
...
"What are you thinking about?" her spouse asked her, pulling the woman from her reverie.
For a moment, she considered lying but she knew that the blonde would glean the truth regardless.
"The Yule Ball."
"I thought it might be something like that," Brittany said with a nod. "You were sucking on your lip like you do when something's bothering you."
Santana flushed at being so easily read but her wife's keen observation did not surprise her.
"I still wish that Quinn hadn't intervened. She only made things worse."
"But her heart was in the right place," the other woman pointed out.
Santana sighed but she found herself smiling affectionately.
"You always did defend her. She was such a self-absorbed, self-satisfied snob when we were growing up. Only you could have seen some good through that."
"She helped me with my schoolwork whenever I needed it," Brittany reminded her. "And I could talk to her about us when you and I were having problems."
"Which I would have put a stop to straight away, if I'd known then."
"I needed someone outside of the situation," her wife said while chiding her for her irritability with a pinch on the arm. "She seemed to understand me, even though she was the best in our year and always had a boyfriend."
Santana groaned and pressed her pelvis teasingly against Brittany's thigh, hoping to distract her.
"Let's not talk about Quinn Fabray right now."
"Okay," the blonde agreed, responding exactly as she had been meant to. Her hands slid from Santana's waist and circled around to rest against her rump, pulling her even closer. The dark haired woman gave a throaty laugh and traced her tongue along the other woman's clavicle.
A fluttering of wings disrupted their quiet interaction and the brunette swore under her breath.
"What now?"
Sure enough, it was the same accursed owl that had visited earlier that day.
"Athena, if you fly in through that window one more time, I'm going to set you on fire," she growled.
The bird snapped its beak at her with equal menace and stuck out its leg for her to remove the new scroll tied there.
Reluctantly, Santana extracted herself from Brittany's hold and crossed over to fetch the letter. She scanned the contents as quickly as possible, eager to send the pesky deliverer on its way.
Santana,
You're home! Finally! I'm so glad. I told Athena expressly not to leave my last letter behind unless you took it from her personally, and she came back with both legs free. It's such a relief to know that you at least made it back safely. Now that you're here again, I've been thinking-
"What does it say?"
Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's stomach and rested her chin on her shoulder. The shorter woman continued to read. As she reached the last line, her jaw dropped and, unfortunately, so did the Resurrection Stone still clutched in her other hand. Instantly, the feeling of her wife's presence disappeared.
She turned and announced the message to the empty room.
"Quinn's coming."