A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this chapter, only one more left after this. All I can really say is that the fact that magic has gone cannon is really starting to do things to my brain. Weird, weird things. Please remember to R&R ;)

In the morning, when Oliver hands her a cup of coffee, Felicity says thanks, and leans in and kisses him.

Okay, it's not a kiss kiss. It's a peck, a soft press of her lips to his, practiced and smooth.

She kisses Oliver. On the mouth. With her mouth.

"Ohmygod," she exclaims, stumbling back away from him, almost spilling the coffee. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I don't, I don't even know why I did that."

Oliver, however, looks delighted. His eyes are twinkling and he's grinning at her like an idiot. "Felicity."

"Yes, person I barely know that I just kissed?"

Oliver laughs and pulls her closer to him. "I'm your boyfriend."

She exhales. "Right."

"You're allowed to kiss me."

"Oh," she says, flushing. She knows they're together, in real life, they even sleep in the same bed. But he's been so gentleman-ly, hasn't tried anything more intimate than a hug, a soft caress of her neck.

Oh my god. She and Oliver have had sex.

Oliver wraps his arm around her waist, bending down to nuzzle at her neck. "In the mornings I always make coffee for you before you go to work."

"Oh," she sighs, feeling her skin breakout in goosebumps.

"And you always say, thanks, or thanks Oliver, or sometimes if you're tired just mmph. And then you kiss me."

"Really?"

"Every time." Oliver kisses her shoulder. "It's kind of our thing."

Felicity smiles. "I don't remember that but I like it."

"But that's the thing, I think you do."

She turns in his arms so she can see his face. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what muscle memory is?" Oliver asks.

She nods slowly. "Yeah."

Oliver leans in so their foreheads are touching. "Your body remembers this, even if you don't yet. Your muscles, your skin. Your heart. Your bones."

She feels hot, like the temperature in the room has gone up ten degrees. "Is that why people say, I know it...in my bones?"

"You know me, Felicity. Even if you don't know it here..." He kisses her temple, one hand drifting down to her chest, folding over her heart. "You know. Here. It's still here."

"So like, my molecules...remember your molecules."

"Oh Felicity." Oliver dips his head to nip at her chin, making something deep (bone deep) roll through her body. "I'd know your molecules anywhere."

/

Thea's the one who finds the witch.

"I'm not sure we're supposed to call her that," Thea says, climbing out of the Range Rover. "I think it might be like, offensive."

They're in the Glades, parked outside a crumbling storefront, because somehow Thea found a witch.

"How'd you find out about her again?" Oliver asks, checking to make sure the street is clear before stepping out of the car.

"Oh, you know. I have my ways," Thea says casually.

Oliver has a creeping feeling that her way is Malcolm, but decides to let it go, filing away a note to grill Thea about it later.

Right now they have an appointment with a witch.

"I think they prefer Wiccan," Thea says, pressing the buzzer of a dusty brick building. "Or pagan, maybe."

"Hello? Who eez zis?"

"Hi!" Thea says brightly. "I have an appointment? Under Queen?"

The door buzzes and Thea pushes it open, Oliver following behind. They take a rickety elevator to the fifth floor, walk down a dimly lit hallway to number 511.

The woman who's supposed to be a witch doesn't really look like a witch. She's not dressed all in black with pointy fingernails, and there aren't pentagons on the wall.

She looks normal, like a soccer mom, dressed in faded jeans and a striped tee shirt, her shoulder length hair a little frizzy. Then she notices him standing behind Thea and crosses her arms.

"Who eez zis?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

Thea's smile falters. "This is my brother, Oliver. I'm sorry, I guess I should have told you he was coming?"

The witch (Wiccan, pagan) (oh who he is kidding, he doesn't care) reaches out towards him. Her brow furrows as she holds her hand in front of his chest, like she's testing the air around him.

"You carry quite a lot of pain here, eez true, oui?"

Oliver blinks, feeling a bit stunned. Thea leans into him, looking worried. "You're Madame Bisette, right?"

"Oui." Madame Bisette gives Thea a stern look. "You are not here because of your bruzzer?"

"No," Thea says haltingly. "We're here because of someone else."

Oliver pulls out the snapshot of Felicity that he keeps in his wallet and holds it out. "We're here because of her."

Madame Bisette takes the photograph and studies it. "Who eez zis?"

"She's his girlfriend-"

"I love her," he says firmly. "And she needs help. Your help."

The older woman raises her eyebrows at Thea. "Zis is why you come to me. Your bruzzer's lover?"

"Please," Thea says. "We don't know anyone else that can help us."

"Merde," Madame Bisette mutters, and lets them into the apartment.

She sits them down at a little wooden table in her kitchen. No candles, no voodoo dolls, just salt and pepper and a framed picture of two children. "Explain, what eet eez you zink I can do for zis mademoiselle."

Oliver and Thea both struggle to explain what Damian Darhk did, how he has magic, real magic, which is why they need a witch, a real witch.

Madame Bisette looks intrigued, a little horrified. "You say she remembers nuzzing, zis girl?"

"She remembers me," Oliver says. "Well, she remembered my name. That's something, right?"

Madame Bisette narrows her eyes at him. "You love zis girl, oui?"

Oliver nods seriously. "Yes."

She leans back in her chair. "Zair eez a way."

Thea squeezes his hand. "Really?"

"Well." The older woman shrugs. "I didn't say eet would be easy but eez possible."

"How?" Oliver asks, wishing she would just get on with it already.

"A spell of course. I give, to you. Eez not cheap."

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Of course not."

Madame Bisette pats his hand. "Don't worry. I write eet myself. Eez very good. Very good spell for her. Will fix, oui? Madame Bisette eez zee best, I make special spell, just for you."

She spends an hour writing out something in Latin, and then another page of instructions for Oliver.

"You follow exactly, understand? Ozzerwise you have problem. Magic eez serious, eez not joke, oui?"

"Oui," Thea says, winking at Oliver. "Follow exactly, we get it."

Madame Bisette snorts and points at Thea. "You come back, you know. Just like your papa."

Thea blanches. "Excuse me?"

Madame Bisette pats Thea's arm. "Eez not your fault, cherie. Un Grand Guignol. But even blood does not run forever."

"What the hell was that?" Thea says, when they're back in the car. "That French bit, Un Grand Guignol? Was she taking about Malcolm?"

"No idea," Oliver mutters, trying to shake off the feeling of the witch's eyes on his, like she could see every layer of him down to the bone.

"That was creepy as fuck," Thea says. "But she seemed legit, right?"

Oliver looks down at the stack of papers in his hand. "She better be."

/

Oliver picks her up from Dig and Lyla's, with a look on his face she can't place. Nervous, maybe? His fingers tap the steering wheel the whole way back to the loft, while she curls up in the passenger seat trying not to worry.

"So," Oliver says, when they're back in the loft, a fire going in the living room. "I saw someone today. With Thea."

"Um...okay?" she says. "Is this why you look all-whatever that is?"

Oliver comes and sits down next to her on the couch. "We saw a witch."

Felicity laughs. "Yeah, okay, Oliver."

"Felicity..."

Her mouth falls open. "Are you serious?"

Oliver grits his teeth. "The man who did this to you, he's not exactly...well, he has some...gifts."

Felicity blinks rapidly, feeling a little dizzy. "Like-magical gifts?"

Oliver smiles weakly. "Yeah."

"Oh," she says faintly. "Yeah, okay. Sure. A witch. Oh boy."

Oliver catches her when she slumps sideways. "Hey, relax, you're okay."

"I know," she babbles, "just-magic-and brain cells exploding because-witches, seriously, witches?"

"Felicity, she said she could fix you."

"She what? Are you serious."

Oliver nods. "She wrote-well she wrote a spell-"

"A spell?"

"I know," Oliver agrees. "It sounds ridiculous, but-"

"Well come on, let's do it!" she exclaims. "If it can make me remember then come on! Let's get this magic show on the road."

Oliver starts to laugh. "I really love you, you know that?"

Felicity squeals and jumps off the couch. "Pretty soon I'll be able to answer that with a yes."

/

The spell is actually quite specific.

Eight tall candles, all white, lit in a circle around Felicity on the floor.

A bowl of water, which Felicity drinks from and then Oliver.

And then the page of Latin, which Oliver reads out loud, standing over Felicity with his left hand covering the crown of her head.

He's halfway through the spell when he feels something under his hand. It's like a tremor that starts at the base of her neck and runs through her skull. Felicity makes a noise in the back of her throat and her eyes slam shut.

He wants to stop, to make sure she's okay, but written at the bottom of spell are the words, DO NOT STOP UNTIL COMPLETED. Three times, in a row, so Oliver figures it would be really bad to stop.

It gets harder when her whole body starts to shake, little whimpers coming out of her mouth. Oliver talks faster, the words leaving his mouth foreign on his tongue.

When he gets to the end Felicity is practically vibrating, he has to grip her head with his fingertips to maintain contact. Oliver says the final words and drops his hand. She's very still, sitting on the floor with her eyes closed.

"Felicity," he says quietly, crouching down in front of her. "Felicity?"

When she collapses Oliver barely catches her before her head hits the floor. "Felicity!"