Page 7 of They Were Broom-Mates

“Familiar?” Amelie stuttered, standing back up, pieces of the teapot in her hands as she sheepishly watched Delia. The Cemetery Witch was wearing short, black denim shorts revealing a garter thigh tattoo and a grey-and-black striped, long-sleeve shirt that cut off just at her ribcage and sat off-shoulder on one side, revealing her stomach and collarbone.

“Oh!” Amelie shook her head, feeling a bit silly. “Yes of course. I’m just not used to… well, spiders.”

Amelie laughed nervously, searching Delia’s face for any sort of invitation to continue conversation but only found the cold gaze of her green eyes.

With a swallow, Amelie bit her lip and clutched the pieces of the teapot in her hands until she could feel the edges biting into her palms.

“Will you be coming to dinner tonight? Up at the main house, I mean.”

Delia studied her for a second before shrugging noncommittally.

“Dunno.” She started. “Probably not.”

As Delia turned to look away, Amelie was struck with how defined the other witch’s profile was. Her eyes, though tired and hooded, were surrounded by angular features that could have easily been the subject of a painting back in the day.

“Alright.” Amelie nodded, mostly to herself as she started to make her way back toward the entrance to the crypt. “Well, I will just leave a plate out for you if that’s alright.”

When Delia didn’t respond or turn to acknowledge her leaving, Amelie turned on her heel and started making her way back down the path toward the cathedral. The chill of Delia’s gaze still biting at her skin, Amelie wrapped herself in the power of her hearth, warm and cozy until she reached the door to the kitchen.

Once it was closed, Amelie took a deep breath, looking back down at the shattered teapot in her hands. With a pout she realized she hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask Delia what her favorite type of tea was.

“How did it go?”

Amelie’s head snapped up at the sound of Regina’s voice.

The other witch was sitting at the counter, another cup of tea in her hands. Amelie wasn’t so much startled as she was embarrassed; she had gone to bring the Cemetery Witch into the fold but had been naive to think that it was going to be as easy as offering a cup of tea.

Amelie sighed heavily and walked over to the counter, placing the pieces of the teapot on the marble surface.

“Not very well.” Amelie leaned onto the counter with one elbow, fist against her cheek. “Her spider scared me and I dropped the tea.”

Regina nodded sagely and took a sip of her tea. “Mortimer can do that, he has a nasty habit of showing up in places you don’t expect him to. Hestia found him in her shoe once and almost burned the West Wing down. I don’t know if you noticed, but she doesn’t really tend to wear those anymore if she can help it.”

Regina chuckled to herself as a black cat padded into the room and hopped up onto the seat next to her. “Ah there you are.”

Scratching the cat behind its ears, Regina grinned at the animal as Amelie’s attention was caught by movement in the doorway.

“Truffle!” Amelie hurried over to the entrance, scooping her ferret up into her arms. “There you are. I was wondering where you might have gotten off to.”

“I think Salem was showing him the grounds.” Regina glanced back at her cat as she yawned, the bell around her neck tinkling gently. “We’ve been here for the longest, so she likes to show new familiars the ropes when she can.”

“Oh!” Amelie hummed, scratching Truffle under the chin. “That’s very kind of her. Did you go on an adventure, Truffle?”

Truffle clicked happily in response.

“Do you need any help fixing the teapot?”

Amelie’s attention turned back to Regina as Salem hopped down from the seat and padded out of the room. Truffle wiggled in Amelie’s grip slightly, chuffing happily as she bent her knees and set him gently on the ground. Then without hesitation, Truffle scurried off after Salem, out the door.

Amelie moved to get up, only to see Regina’s hand extended out in front of her. She didn’t know when the other witch had moved to her side, but, effectively flustered, Amelie simply took Regina’s hand and allowed herself to be helped to her feet.

They were close when Amelie had stood; Regina hadn’t taken the opportunity to take a step back, allowing their chests to nearly touch as they stood in the kitchen.

“Hm?” Amelie replied, forgetting what the other woman had asked her.

“The teapot.” Regina squeezed Amelie’s hand lightly as she gestured to the pile of ceramic shards on the counter.

“Oh! Yes.” Amelie turned her head to glance at the teapot, letting Regina loose her hand and step behind her to get a better look. “That would be great. I have never been great at mending spells. A personal failing for a Kitchen Witch if you ask my mother.”