Chapter Text
That week passes, too. Leonora sleeps better than before, longer, safely tucked into Clarissa’s arms, which finally gives her body a chance to heal, followed by breakfast and a shower, and a few hours of work at the other woman’s desk. They play chess on Tuesday, which feels good, normal, and even if Clarissa isn’t really there during the day they spend the evening together.
One evening, Thursday, as they sit on the couch, a comfortable silence settles between them. Clarissa is reading a book, her fingers delicately turning the pages, while Leonora absently flips through a magazine, her thoughts wandering. She glances at the other woman, watching her for a moment, and realizes how easy this all is. Being with her, spending time together. Existing. The warmth of Clarissa’s presence, the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the way her brow furrows slightly in concentration—it all brings a sense of peace that Leonora didn’t know she needed. As the realization dawns on her, she feels a strange flutter in her chest. It’s warm, like a deep pulse, strange and unknown. She realizes that she likes it, likes how Clarissa makes her feel, like the calm and comfort she brings into her life, the reliability. She’s there . She has been there all these years.
“Clarissa?”
“Hm?” she replies, eyes still on the page of the book.
“Do you think this can work out? Can we work out?”
This is the cue for Clarissa to look up, the question sinking in as she marks her place in the book with a finger. Her eyes meet Leonora’s before she answers. “We already are, aren’t we?”
“You deserve more than me,” the redhead states quietly, suddenly insecure and fragile, “someone proper. You’re good, Clarissa. Pure, kind, and everything I’m not.” She flinches when a warm hand covers hers and her first instinct is to pull away, but the woman’s fingers are gentle and hold it in place, hold it tight.
“Listen to me,” she requests softly. “You are exactly who I want. Not some prince, not anyone else. You. And you are enough. I know that you have been taught otherwise and I know that you have an incredibly thick skull sometimes, but you just have to trust me on this one, okay?”
For a moment, Leonora's lips twitch into a faint smile, her eyes meeting Clarissa's. “I’ve hurt people. Killed them. Did things you can’t even fathom.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. I would be concerned if you haven’t, after all you’re still the dean for evil. There are some requirements for the job.”
But the redhead hesitates. “What if I can’t ever give you what you want? And deserve? What if I never fully recover?”
“Will you stop?” Clarissa reaches out and brings the hand that previously rested on Leonora’s hand up to her cheek, stroking it softly. These questions aren’t surprising to her, aren’t unexpected, but hearing them out in the open is and she can only guess how much strength it costs Leonora to ask them. So she tries to comfort her as much as possible, tries to show her how little she worries. “We’ll figure it out, Leonora. You are recovering even if it doesn’t feel like it, you are doing so much better already. Stop worrying about these things, please .”
But Clarissa’s comforting words don’t have any effect on the redhead. Her thoughts continue to swirl, pulled in through a current too strong to fight against. “What if I love you wrong?”
“Nonsense” she says. “There is no right or wrong. We’ll do what makes us feel good and we’ll talk about it. Communicate.”
“I don’t know how to do that. Rafal—” she swallows thickly, “he never allowed any of this.”
“Then you’ll practice and I will be patient. You won’t be punished for voicing your needs.”
Leonora still isn’t too sure, moves her head to escape the gentle touch and ends up standing up, the magazine in her hands. “I don’t know.”
“Leonora, nothing changes. You’ve been okay the last few days, haven’t you? That’s how we’ll continue. I don’t know why you’re suddenly pushing yourself to change anything because you don’t have to, this doesn’t have to happen.” Letting her move away is a decision Clarissa doesn’t approve of but accepts, aware that the dean needs to do something, anything, to soothe herself, to keep herself at least somewhat under control. She sees the conflict in Leonora's eyes, the struggle between fear and desire, and she wishes she could take it all away. "You don’t have to love me if it hurts you," Clarissa adds, her voice gentle and full of empathy.
They don’t continue the conversation that evening, but Clarissa still holds her through the night. To her it doesn’t matter anyway.
Sunday is their last day together. Leonora is eager to return to work, tired and bored by spending most of the day by herself, and with the classes planned the workload for the rest of the school year is eased severely. In the morning right after she wakes, she finds herself tightly wrapped in Clarissa’s arms, whose chin is resting on top of her head.
“Hi” the blonde woman mumbles sleepily and tightens the embrace for just a moment, feeling a warm hand resting against her own ribs. “You’re good?”
Leonora hums before she can’t fight the urge to stretch, but instead of shifting away she settles against Clarissa’s chest again, not fully ready to start the day just yet. “Hi.”
“Last day, huh?”
“For now. You know you can always come back and be here, and if you want me at your place I will happily make my way over.”
Sinking back into the mattress, Leonora nods absentmindedly and brings her hand to rest on Clarissa’s hip. “Would you mind helping me with wards? I know you are able to cast some that he won’t be able to break through.”
“Sure. Today?”
“Mhm.”
Eventually, they rise and begin their day. Breakfast is quiet, the usual banter tempered by the awareness that their time together is coming to an end. After eating, Clarissa prepares some tea while Leonora organizes her belongings, making sure everything is ready for her return to the School for Evil. The limp in her step is still noticeable, to a point even worse than before, but Clarissa knows that they have reached a point where Leonora doesn’t feel the need to hide it from her anymore.
“Are you still hurting?” she asks softly after a while and folds one of the black t-shirts Leonora has brought.
Glancing up, a brief flicker of vulnerability crosses the dean for evil’s features before she nods. "A bit," she admits. "It's better than it was, but it still hurts."
Clarissa sets the folded shirt aside. "You shouldn't push yourself too hard, you know. It's okay to take things slow."
Leonora offers a faint smile. "I need to get back to work. Being idle is worse for me. I know it’ll take another few weeks to disappear entirely, if it ever will, but I’m okay. I can manage.”
Nodding, the dean for good hands her the shirt and watches as she tucks it into the bag. “Will you tell me?”
“Oh, probably not. Not on purpose, though, just out of habit.”
Clarissa chuckles softly, understanding the habits of secrecy and self-reliance that Leonora has built up over her years at the school and especially as a dean. "Well, I'll keep asking, just in case you ever feel like sharing. We probably won’t really see each other during the week, now that you’re going back?”
Leonora gives a small, thoughtful nod. "Probably not. Our schedules are packed, and it's not like the School for Evil and the School for Good encourage mingling among staff."
Clarissa sighs, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "I know. It's just... I've gotten used to having you around. I’ll miss you."
A faint smile tugs at the corners of Leonora's lips. "I’ll miss you too. We’ll just have to find a way to make it work. Maybe the usual Tuesday chess match, if I remember correctly you have a 10am the next day, you could stay the night? And then on Friday again. I’m already at the School for Good for the 3pm staff meeting and my last class that day is the one after lunch, so I could just stay and wait for you to get done. We both have the weekends off, unless something happens.”
“Right” Clarissa says after taking a moment to think. “That sounds like a plan. Tuesdays and Fridays it is. And weekends, unless something comes up.”
They spent the rest of the day at the evil school. It takes almost a full hour and multiple breaks for them to get the protective wards up — Leonora nearly faints towards the end of it, drained of her magic — and dinner includes roast potatoes, vegetables and a pain potion for the redhead. They settle on the couch afterwards.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here?”
“It’s not ideal, but it still is my home. I might rearrange the bedroom or stay on the couch for the first few days, but I’ll be okay. I’m not weak, Clarissa. Traumatized, maybe. But not weak.”
“I know you aren't” she says. “I just want you to be okay. Let me know if you need me here, okay?”
“I will” Leonora replies softly and reaches out, squeezes her hand. “Thank you. I asked for a lot and you didn’t hesitate once.”
Clarissa smiles warmly. “You would have done the same for me.”
“I would. And I will, if you ever need me. I will kill for you, Clarissa.”
“Well,” Clarissa says, her smile growing. “I’ll hold you to that when we reach that point.” Looking at the clock above the fireplace, the dean for good can’t hold back a yawn and slowly gets up. “I should probably head back, it is getting way too late. Remember to send a letter if you need me.”
“I will. See you on Tuesday?” Leonora asks.
“Of course, Tuesday are for chess” Clarissa confirms. “And then Friday and Tuesday after that. And Friday again.”