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“Now girls,” Dimity says, “I want you to pay close attention as Miss Hardbroom and I demonstrate the proper technique for the waltz. I will be leading and Miss Hardbroom will be following.”
They had discussed this prior to the lesson and Hecate is quite certain they had agreed that she would be leading at the beginning. She’s not so charitable as to think Dimity has merely forgotten, and she lets her displeasure be known.
Then,” Dimity continues, blithely ignoring her, “we will switch. Ready when you are, Miss Bat.”
The music begins, and so do they. Hecate will admit that, whatever her myriad other flaws, Dimity is an excellent dancer. It takes Hecate some effort not to lose herself in the rhythm of it - in the neat, flowing pattern of their steps. Fortunately, she knows this dance like the back of her broom, and it isn’t difficult to keep a careful watch on the antics of the class at the same time as she moves about the floor.
They are mostly behaving themselves, but then, out of the corner of her eye she catches Enid Nightshade elbowing Maud Spellbody and leaning in to whisper something, a wide, unsubtle grin on her face.
“Miss Nightshade,” Hecate calls over Dimity’s shoulder. “Do you have something you would like to share with the class?”
Enid looks down at her toes. “No, Miss Hardbroom.”
Satisfied that the girls are all now attentive, Hecate turns her own focus back to the dance. She takes advantage of Dimity’s own slight distraction, and steals the lead. Dimity, to her credit, doesn’t falter for a single step. She raises her eyebrow to Hecate as they continue their dance and Hecate allows herself a tight half-smile.
As the song comes to an end, she bows to Dimity, showing her all the respect her dancing skills are due, and Dimity curtsies to her in turn. Hecate scans the crowd, carefully noting which pupils have remained alert, and those whose concentration has wandered.
Over towards the back of the room, behind the sea of uniforms, she spots a flash of pink that draws her gaze. At some point while she was dancing, Ada came into the room. Ada has been standing there for who knows how long, watching her dance. Ada is still watching her, with an unreadable smile on her face.
Hecate can feel heat rising in her cheeks, and she fights it desperately, trying to pull herself back into the present moment.
Fortunately, Dimity is more than happy to make up for Hecate’s momentary pause. “Now girls, it is your turn. Choose a partner and assume the starting position.”
Hecate draws in a breath and, with a herculean effort, tears her eyes from Ada’s face. Don’t be so utterly ridiculous, she tells herself sharply. You’re a fully grown witch, not a schoolgirl, and you have your job to do.
The voice in her head sounds, as always, sufficiently like the one she uses to chastise wayward pupils, and it helps. The girls start their waltzing, though in some particular cases she isn’t sure whether what they’re achieving could definitively be called a waltz, as such. Hecate does her job, making her way around the edges of the room, giving feedback and commentary to the pairs where she deems it most useful.
Mildred Hubble is, as expected, a near hopeless case. Perhaps Hecate will see about recommending her for some individual lessons with whichever hapless Fifth Year next draws her ire.
Hecate discovers Felicity Foxglove executing the most appalling dip - she’s lucky she didn’t drop her partner straight onto the floor - so she enlists Dimity’s help to demonstrate the true form and precision of the move. Felicity’s second attempt is a little better, though there’s clearly no small amount of work still to be done there.
She knows Ada’s watching her still. Of course she knows. Why should it matter. Ada may watch whomsoever she likes. Perhaps she is also watching Dimity.
Hecate steps back and lets the girls dance for a while, gives them a little time to find their own feet, their own way into the music. She fancies that she can feel Ada’s stare on the back of her neck, like a fierce, tingling heat, and then she immediately admonishes herself for such a needless frivolity. She doesn’t know what could be the matter with her today, and she’s glad of the end of term approaching - perhaps some peaceful time in her laboratory, planning next term’s lessons and working on her own projects, alone, will do her good.
.
And then something happens.
She’s aware of it, at first, only through the instinct born of all her years of teaching. All those years of classrooms full of girls have led her to gain a very specific sense of when Something Is Happening - one that kicks in long before any of her more standard or magical senses have the slightest idea that anything might be going on.
She looks up just a fraction of a second before the faint whispers of the pupils reach her ears, and that tiny sliver of time gives her the chance to school her own expression before anyone has a chance to notice the flash of confusion.
Maud Spellbody is dancing with Ada.
Hecate’s glance flashes to Mildred Hubble, and then to Enid Nightshade, but they’re both still here, and neither of them looks to be doing anything untoward. This doesn’t immediately appear to be a distraction from whatever nefarious shenanigans they might be getting up to today, but she has known them long enough to be aware that that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Although, she concedes, they do both look as surprised by this development as she herself feels.
Ada, something in the very depths of Hecate’s brain notes, dances very prettily, though perhaps without quite the same finesse as Dimity.
“Miss Spellbody,” Hecate’s voice comes out low, and she knows she sounds harsher than she intends, but it’s better that than coming across as bewildered. “What are you doing?”
The silence that falls, as swift and sudden as Morgana catching a mouse, is faintly gratifying. The day she loses the ability to subdue a room full of children in an instant will be the day she retires from teaching.
She turns her full, unwavering scrutiny on Maud, and doesn’t let herself acknowledge the amusement hiding in Ada’s eyes.
“Dancing, Miss Hardbroom,” Maud tells her.
There is, without a shadow of a doubt, something extremely and irritatingly suspicious going on here. Hecate wishes she could put her finger on what it might be.
“You are supposed to be practicing your dancing with your fellow students, not with your teachers.” She makes sure to enunciate every word with care, watching Maud quail as she glowers. “Miss Foxglove is currently without a partner.”
Unfortunately, Gwendolyn Bat chooses to ruin the effect somewhat by jumping to her feet. “Miss Spellbody! How kind of you to make sure Miss Cackle was not doomed to the status of a wallflower.”
This time the stunned silence includes Hecate herself. Gwendolyn carries on regardless, despite Hecate’s best efforts to quell her using only the power of her own furious glare. By the time Gwendolyn has finished, Maud Spellbody has been instructed to dance with Felicity Foxglove, Dimity to observe, and Hecate… Hecate will be dancing with Ada, as a further demonstration.
Hecate opens her mouth to object before Ada can, but Ada gets there first. “That sounds like a splendid solution to me.” Ada’s voice gives away nothing but warmth. “Thank you, Miss Spellbody.”
Hecate will not blush. She absolutely will not.
And so, because there’s nothing else she can do, Hecate strides across the floor to Ada, each steps ringing loud in the unusual hush, unable quite to meet Ada’s eyes. She bows. “May I have the honor, Miss Cackle?”
“Certainly.”
Hecate looks up and is caught helpless in the unexpected fondness of Ada’s smile. She allows herself to draw breath, and leads Ada into position on the dance floor. And then promptly realises that the entire class is watching them still. “What are you all looking at?” she snaps, hastily. “Partner up!”
Gwendolyn begins to play, and Hecate and Ada begin to dance.
They have known each other a very long time, but despite all their shared years, Hecate has never danced with Ada before. Perhaps she has never dared to.
They dance well together, it transpires. Hecate was right in her summation that Ada does not have the same level of skill and practice in the dance that Hecate and Dimity do, but she makes up for it with the joy she so clearly takes in the movements. She knows the steps immaculately, and Hecate leads her around the floor with ease. Hecate wants, for a moment, to find something to say, but Ada, there at just an arm’s length, keeps smiling at her and no words present themselves.
She smiles back, instead, without so much as a single thought for who might see.
After a while, Dimity ends the lesson, and Hecate is aware of the girls leaving with their usual clattering chaos. She’s aware that Dimity leaves too, closely followed by Gwendolyn. But she’s mostly aware, above all the rest, that Ada’s hand is still on her arm, though they are no longer dancing.
They touch each other, she and Ada, frequently. They are good friends, affectionate friends, who take comfort in each other’s presence. In a steadying hand, or a comforting arm, or knees that brush under the table.
Hecate does not like to touch people particularly. But Ada has been different. For a very long time, Ada has been different.
The room empty but for the two of them, Ada lifts Hecate’s hand to her lips and presses a gentle kiss there, and Hecate does not flinch. She blushes maybe, just a little, but perhaps that is reasonable, under the circumstances.
Hecate looks up, for some reason feeling the need to reassure herself that they are utterly alone, and then she does something unusual. Something Hecate of just half an hour ago could not have foreseen, but that Hecate of right now can’t imagine not doing.
She leans down and kisses Ada Cackle.
Hecate finds Ada’s mouth as soft and welcoming as the rest of her, the kiss carrying the echo of a hundred dreams, a thousand stifled imaginings. In return, Ada does not hesitate. Her arms slide around Hecate’s waist and pull her close, and she kisses Hecate with all that same enthusiasm that she used in her dancing earlier.
“I’ve been hoping you might do that,” Ada says, with a soft wonder in her voice. “My Hecate.”
Hecate’s heart dances in her chest, to a rhythm that’s both shining new and perfectly, exquisitely familiar.
She kisses Ada again.