#another day waking up reeling at the thought of meeting a person unconditionally accepting of your entire past present and future

[mobius-m-mobius]

Sometimes our emotions get the better of us. You can say that again.

[foxx-queen]

hicsqueak & “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

inspired by @hecateandhoney‘s great tags about christine baranski as pippa’s mum

There are times when Hecate finds herself awake late at night. She stirs to find the room still dark, and Pippa wrapped around her. It happens sometimes regardless of where she is, whether its at Cackles or Pentangles, or here, in Pippa’s small cottage by the sea.

It can be frustrating, during school term, but as it is, she doesn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. So she slides from the bed, careful not to disturb Pippa, who curls up around her pillow with a muffled sound of protest, and makes her way towards the small, cosy kitchen to make herself some tea. Sometimes a warm drink is enough to send her back to sleep.

Pippa thinks its probably due to how she’s not used to the concept of a holiday, or relaxing, something Hecate was willing to admit might be possible.

It’s been a trying term.

She waves her hand to set the kettle boiling, and sits down at the kitchen table. She’s barely sat down when she hears the pad of feet on the stairs, and sighs, looking down at her hands as a twinge of frustration bubbles in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to wake Pippa.

‘Pippa, darling, have you seen the - oh’.

Hecate looks up, startled by the sudden appearance of an oddly familiar woman, who sweeps into the kitchen in a whirl of long, floaty pink sleeves and a wide, blinding smile. The woman stops at the other end of the table, still smiling, and tilts her head slightly. ‘Well, hello’.

Hecate opens and closes her mouth several times, feeling a little out of her depth, and acutely aware that she’s sitting in Pippa’s own kitchen in nothing more than a nightgown, and her cheeks flush in embarrassment. ‘… hello’.

The woman’s brow pinches slightly as she stares at her. Hecate shifts a little awkwardly under her bright eyes, wondering how long the woman’s been here. Her windswept hair gives an impression that she’s just arrived, but then again, she seems to be wearing a very extravagant night gown.

All at once, the woman’s expression lights up, and she says, ‘Hecate Hardbroom? Is that really you?’

'Yes, I -'

The woman sweeps across the space between them, grasps her by the upper arms and hauls her out of her seat to crush her against her chest, and cries, 'oh, darling, how wonderful to see you again!'

She pulls back to place a kiss on each of Hecate's cheeks, and despite how her head is reeling, a vague memory stirs. '.... Mrs Pentangle?'

'Oh please, call me Persephone'. Persephone Pentangle gives her another blinding smile, and squeezes her shoulders. 'Little Hecate Hardbroom. All grown up'.

Persephone might've been the only person who ever called her little, as she was always tall for her age, especially in comparison to Pippa. The thought makes her smile slightly, and she lifts her hand to touch her forehead. 'Well met, Persephone'.

Persephone lets her go to return the gesture. 'Well met, darling'. Her eyes gleam. 'Pippa didn't tell me that you were her... special friend'.

Hecate flushes again, and coughs. 'Yes... well, I...'

'It's wonderful', Persephone has her daughter's sincere smile, and it makes Hecate's shoulders relax again, 'really'.

'I... thank you'. She curls and uncurls her fingers awkwardly, and says, 'how... how is Mrs Pentangle?'

'Oh, Sabine's off chasing down a rumour about a herb that perfectly matches an extinct plant used for ancient remedies'. Persephone's eyes crinkle fondly, and she shakes her head. 'I won't hear from her until she's yielded some kind of result. Very single minded, my wife'.

Hecate remembers Sabine Pentangle, a small, wiry woman whose mane of dark hair always had some flower or herb twisted in its curls. Sometimes Pippa would pluck a flower from their garden to add to her mother's hair, and Hecate feels her chest warm at the memory. 'She sounds a lot like Pippa'.

Persephone beams. ‘I always thought so’. She turns to sweep towards the counter again, flicking her fingers to conjure two glasses on the table. ‘We simply much catch up, darling. It’s been decades!’

Hecate sinks back down into her chair silently, acutely aware that the last time she saw Persephone was from a distance, at the lake where she was to fly with Pippa. The place she left her, and almost lost her for good. She swallows tightly, and murmurs, ‘it has’.

‘Witches brew?’

‘I…’ Hecate hesitates, aware of the late hour, torn between being polite to Pippa’s mother, a woman who was nothing but kind and welcoming to her before she shut Pippa out of her life. Tension settles in her shoulders, and she says tightly, ‘no, thank you’.

Penelope doesn’t seem at all phased. She sinks into the chair at the head of the table beside her, and pours herself a generous glass. She leans her elbow on the table, and smiles at her. ‘How are you, darling?’

‘I’m… good’. Hecate taps her fingers on her own elbows, and says, ‘when did you get here?’

‘Oh, very late’. She takes a small sip, and tips her head back, a dreamy smile curling her lips. ‘Have you ever ridden the aurora borealis, Hecate?’

Hecate remembers nights spent by the fire, her arm pressed against Pippa’s side, listening to Persephone’s wild stories about all her travels, and smiles slightly. ‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t’.

‘You and Pippa should go some time’. Her mouth curves in a knowing smile, and Hecate sees Pippa in the twinkle of her eyes. ‘There’s nothing quite like the wild magic of the lights’.

‘I don’t have much time for such things’. Hecate winces, aware of how sharply she said it, and rises quickly from her seat to turn towards the bench, simply for something to do. Tea. She was making tea. Maybe it’ll calm her down.

She feels like a child again, meeting Pippa’s parents for the first time, awkward and unsure how to handle such open warmth and affection. She was always too blunt and quiet then, too.

And, just like then, Persephone continues to be endlessly patient. ‘Pippa mentioned that her lady was also a teacher. Is that so?’

Hecate feels her ears burn as the kettle begins to whistle. Pippa’s lady. ‘Yes. I’m the Deputy at Cackle’s Academy, and I teach potions’.

‘How delightful!’ Persephone laughs, one of those rich laughs that bring back memories of easier, more innocent days. ‘You always did love Sabine’s lab’.

Perhaps its the mention of potions, something that she’s always found peace and stability in, but Hecate feels the tension in her muscles loosen. She waves her hand to prepare her tea, and then settles down at the table with the woman again, staring at the tendrils of hot steam, her back rigid, forearms pressed flat against the table. She glances at Persephone out of the corner of her eye, lounging in the chair with her glass held loosely in her fingers. There’s a natural, lazy grace to her that Hecate was always aware of as a child, and again she’s reminded of how… different she is to the Pentangles, with her rigidity and difficulty giving the same kind of affection.

‘I should thank you’, she says suddenly, aware that she’s spoken only when the words land in the air between them. She swallows, her fingers curling tighter around her cup. ‘You were always kind to me, as a child’.

Persephone’s smile is small and warm. ‘Oh, darling, it was never any trouble. You were a joy to have around’. She reaches out to touch her arm lightly, before she withdraws her hand again. ‘It was nothing’.

Hecate shakes her head. ‘It was everything, to me’.

She doesn’t know why she’s pushing the matter, except she does. The Pentangles didn’t have to accept her as they did, and they didn’t have to be kind. They didn’t have to make her feel welcome. But they always did, unconditionally, and in return, she hurt their daughter.

Persephone’s face softens, and she places her glass down on the table. She reaches out, and curls her fingers lightly over Hecate’s forearm. ‘I’m glad you’re back, Hecate’.

Hecate’s mouth twists, and she ducks her head to hide behind her hair. She feels like that child who hesitantly leaned into Persephone’s touch again, and she says quietly, ‘aren’t you even a little… wary? I was not… good to Pippa’.

‘You were a child, darling’. Persephone gives her arm a squeeze. ‘You were both hurting’. Hecate glances up at her, and Persephone reaches out to tap her chin. ‘And you were always family to us’.

The backs of her eyes prickle with tears, and Hecate manages a small, trembling smile. Persephone places her hands over Hecate’s, where they’re curled tightly around her mug, and murmurs, ‘Pippa has been… happier than I think she’s ever been, since you two got together. But darling… are you happy?'

It’s a strange, startling thing to realise how much she missed Persephone. ‘Yes’, she says, quiet but sure, ‘I am’.

Persephone beams again, leans in to press two, quick kisses to her cheeks, and says, ‘wonderful. Sabine will be thrilled’.

There’s a shuffling sound, and Pippa pads into the kitchen, her eyes heavy with sleep, her nightgown hanging off her shoulder. She blinks blearily at Persephone, and mumbles, ‘Mum?’

Persephone is up in a whirl of pink to gather Pippa in her arms and embrace her tightly. ‘Hello, darling’.

Pippa returns the embrace, turning her head to glance at Hecate, and there’s a question in her eyes. Hecate smiles to let her know that everything is alright, and Pippa leans back to kiss her mother’s cheek. ‘When did you get here?’

‘Oh, a couple of hours ago. You were both asleep’. Persephone takes a seat again, nudging the spare glass Hecate didn’t use towards her daughter, and says, ‘witches brew, darling?’

Pippa laughs, a more gravelly sound than usual due to the fact that she’s just been asleep, and Hecate feels warmth curl in her chest. ‘It’s the middle of the night, Mum’.

‘Hecate and I were just catching up’.

Pippa sinks into the chair beside Hecate, pulling her chair closer so that she can lean her head on her shoulder. Hecate flushes a little, but they’ve done this before, with Persephone, even if it was decades ago. She waves her hand to summon a cup of tea for Pippa, too, and the woman hums her thanks, lifting her head to kiss Hecate’s cheek. ‘I hope you haven’t been telling embarrassing stories’.

‘Nonsense’. There’s a twinkle in Persephone’s eyes that tells Hecate that perhaps she will hear some, soon. ‘We were just reminiscing’.

Pippa giggles. ‘Hecate, remember that time you blew up Mum’s lab?’

Hecate purses her lips. ‘You’re never to tell Mildred Hubble that’.

Persephone sits up straighter. ‘Who is Mildred Hubble?’

‘Hecate’s favourite student’.