Two Potential Worst Witch Ideas
1. Ship -> Starbroom (Dimity Drill and Hecate Hardbroom)
Prompt -> Defending them even when they're not there to witness it
2. Not a ship, but more like family relationships -> The Cackle sisters: Ada Cackle and Agatha Cackle
“I do not believe my heart shall ever recover.”
Well, I did the first of these! I'm not exactly over the moon about how it came out, but I wrote it, anyway! I am in the process of working on the second idea as well, although the finished product may not be exactly what you are expecting. :) But, for my inaugural Starbroom fic, here goes. (Note that this contains a couple of my favorite stolen headcanons -- namely, A, that Hecate transfers everywhere due to chronic pain issues, and B, that Dimity is the person who started calling Hecate "HB" as a student. I would attribute these headcanons to their originators if I had any idea now who they were. Also, this fic contains a retcon for the line in Pond Life where Dimity makes reference to "a staff night out" that Hecate attended, because it was driving me crazy.)
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Hecate isn't sure when she started noticing Dimity Drill.
“The Star of the Sky” had mostly irritated her as a Cackle's pupil, rising through the ranks of the athletic students with the serene arrogance of someone who's never lacked for innate talent and skimming past the harder academic pursuits where Hecate's own interests lie. The most interesting thing Dimity ever did as a student was to invent a decent speed potion on her own hook, and as Hecate's specific expertise in – not to mention regard for – sports-related potioneering is limited, she never spent much time learning about that particular achievement. It doesn't help that Dimity seems to have been the originator of the “HB” appellation that's stuck to her like a burr in the succeeding years. The girl was cocky, disrespectful, and unserious.
Hecate doesn't know why the woman has recently started seeming a little different.
There's something about the taut energy with which she bounces through her day, dressed in her teal-accented athletic robes and often literally bouncing a ball off some improbable part of her body as she goes, as though walking through the world in an ordinary way would bore her to tears. Hecate, who affects boredom with walking as well but who actually transfers almost everywhere out of a secret knowledge that too many steps per day will kick off the old chronic pain issues, recently hasn't been able to stop herself from feeling impressed at the sheer joyous physicality with which Dimity navigates the world. And again, Hecate has begun to like the loose casualness that Dimity eases into in after-work hours, over a pint or two of witch's brew, when the staff foregather to let off some of the stress of the day. Hecate never used to attend these gatherings, was not even sure that she'd be welcome, but a brisk word from Dimity one week – “oh, come on, Hecate, come out with us, you can’t hide away in this castle forever” – left her feeling wanted, feeling seen, for the first time in who knows how long. Dimity doesn’t know about the confinement and had had no idea what she was stepping into when she casually remarked that Hecate “can’t hide away forever,” but that night Hecate went to a not-inconsiderable amount of trouble first to create a hologram of herself and then to cast a projection spell with it, all to give the impression of having made an appearance at the local witches’ pub. She was exhausted all through the next day, the complexity of the double spell having worn her out, but found herself suffused with a sense of satisfaction, and something more besides. She’s not sure how to characterize the second part. But she finds herself raking greedily over memories of the night – mostly memories of the look on Dimity’s face, the flush of her cheeks, as she laughed immoderately at jokes that were only moderately funny and downed hefty swigs of witch’s brew. Hecate’s “gone out to the pub” several times since, much to the surprise of Ada, who’s had to be bound to secrecy as to the manner in which she manages the trip. Sometimes she thinks she’s caught a knowing look as Ada intercepts a look between “Hecate” and Dimity – but, after all, what is there for Ada to know? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Hecate knows that she herself is not everyone’s cup of tea, and mostly she’s unbothered by this, preferring to be respected rather than liked. In particular, there’s been tension with Geraldine Gullet, whom Hecate never liked even before the two or three times she overheard the woman speaking disparagingly of her. “Frigid old crow,” she’s heard, and “‘Hardbroom’ is right – broom up her arse, more like.” (A tendency to hover invisible in rooms both before and after physically materializing in them nets her a good amount of opportunity for overheard remarks.) So when, upon making her way into the staff room unseen, she hears Geraldine saying “...stuck-up cow,” she’s certain she knows who is being referenced, and the corners of her lips begin to curl up sardonically as she anticipates materializing fully and letting Geraldine wonder how much she might have heard.
But then Geraldine is continuing. “Always putting on airs over her famous racing career, as if there was anything to it at all. All her success is down to that silly speed potion, and she probably robbed it off someone in the first place. I can’t think why Ada ever hired her, let alone why she keeps her on. I could do her job with my eyes closed. But, of course, Ada’s probably as starstruck as everyone else – too starstruck to notice the woman’s an imbecile. She –”
All of a sudden Hecate has fully materialized in the room, feeling her face heating up with pure outrage. “Silence,” she says, and Geraldine twists around to stare at her, bug-eyed. “How dare you speak this way of a colleague?” she demands, taking a step in the redhead’s direction. “You, the most mediocre witch Cackle’s faculty has ever seen? You, who obtained this job solely due to Miss Cackle’s inability to find the other candidate at the deadline and who retain it entirely thanks to her softness of heart?” She’s advancing on Geraldine now, voice rising; Geraldine is backing up. “Dimity Drill is justly one of the most celebrated witches in the world of broomstick racing, but even if she couldn’t fly a meter without crashing she’d be twenty times the witch you will ever be. Her dedication to the craft and to the students is exemplary, and her… her positivity, her spirit… bring joy to the lives of all who encounter her.” Hecate realizes that her voice is falling into hushed tones now, as though the words would reveal too much if spoken too loudly. “I will not stand here and listen to jealous tripe from a talentless, embittered shrew. Have I made myself clear?” She’s overenunciating all her words now, bearing down on Geraldine. Geraldine gulps and looks from side to side, clearly seeking support. Finding none, she twists her mouth into a grimace and flicks her fingers up to transfer. Hecate stands there, menacing the empty air now, feeling her blood beat hard in her temples. A roar of white noise fills her ears.
After a moment a throat is cleared behind Hecate, rather pointedly. “Well,” Ada says. “I think you’ve given her a thing or two to think about.”
Hecate is beginning to realize that the room is full of other teachers and staff members, and that she’s made quite a scene. “Yes, well,” she says, and her voice has a bit of a shake to it. “I felt she was out of order.”
“Oh, quite,” Ada says serenely. “I’m sure Dimity herself appreciated it as well – didn’t you, Dimity?”
“She’s here?!” Hecate whirls around, horrified. If Dimity heard everything Hecate has just said –
But Ada is laughing outright. “Forgive me, Hecate,” she says, between gasps. “I had to see your face.”
“Who’s not here?” Dimity says, striding into the room. Ada’s laughter clicks off as though someone’s flipped a switch, though her smile remains wide.
“Geraldine,” Hecate blurts, giving the room a belligerent scowl. “Ada was…” She grasps for an explanation. “I had… spoken ill of Geraldine, and… Ada… thought… to defend her.”
“Interesting,” Dimity comments, sitting down on the couch. “Wouldn’t be my choice.”
“Yes, well, I thought she was in the room,” Ada interjects helpfully. “I think we needn’t worry any further over it, Hecate. It would seem your point has been made. And by the way,” she says, with a wink at Hecate over Dimity’s head. “I don’t want to make any promises for Dimity, but it occurs to me that if you are still looking for someone to help you with your latest article for Potions Monthly, you might ask her. I believe she has a free evening tonight, haven’t you, Dimity?”
Hecate’s eyes pop wide as saucers. Dimity is saying, with a surprised look, “I suppose I could, although potions aren’t really my strong suit –”
“It is an article on speed potions,” Hecate announces desperately.
Ada claps her hands. “All the better! And, Hecate, you’d better take that bottle of that witch’s brew you like that I brought home for you from the pub last time – it’s been sitting in my office long enough, and it’s a large bottle, I’m sure it will be much better shared. In fact, let’s go get it now. Dimity, say 7:00 tonight?”
“Why not?” Dimity says, still sounding a little bewildered. Ada raises her hands peremptorily, and in a moment she and Hecate have dematerialized and rematerialized in Ada’s office.
“What did you do that for?” Hecate all but howls.
Ada raises an eyebrow. “I decided it was time someone did something, and it clearly wasn’t going to be you. Now, quick, help me whip up a large bottle of witch’s brew –”
“You can manage that on your own,” Hecate snaps. “I have –” she consults her timepiece – “three hours to write a bloody article on speed potions.”
