Chapter Text
Coco was crying.
Qifrey had been watching his cleaning spells finish up, the kitchen dusting itself back into its usual mostly-orderly state. Olruggio was sitting near the fire, hunched over some contraption and muttering under his breath. All in all, their regular routine for this time of night.
He’d been about to inquire if he should heat water for tea or if Olly might make them a cocktail with some leftover fruit, but then Coco had rounded the corner and thrown herself at his skirts.
Now he had a sobbing student wrapped around his legs while his hands itched to check her over for injuries. It would hardly be the first time one of his apprentices had accidentally harmed themselves from a spell after hours and suddenly appeared, teary-eyed and in need of mild treatment and even more soothing. The worries of a master never ended, indeed.
“Oh,” he hummed, pushing her back until he could kneel. Rather than the usual pattern of swaying and immediately offering the injured hand or forearm, Coco collapsed so her face was tucked into his neck as he wrapped his arms around her, one hand smoothing over her upper back. “Whatever is the matter? Did you get hurt?”
Coco shook her head, clinging to his shoulders tightly.
He looked up, locking gazes with Olly, who blinked back at him with wide eyes. He patted the cushion next to him on the couch, already shuffling to gather pillows and blankets as he settled to one side. Qifrey hummed in agreement before pressing a kiss to Coco’s fine hair and bringing one hand up to rest on her back.
“I’m going to move us to the couch with Olruggio, alright?” She nodded against his shirt and shifted to hold her arms around his neck. He scooped her up, briefly pleased he kept up with exercising because his witches were getting to be pretty big, and walked them over to the couch.
Halfway over, he felt his top sticking to his skin as it grew damp with tears. Coco’s sniffles were muffled into his neck, but Olly’s eyebrows still raised as they reached him. It wasn’t rare for this particular student to get misty-eyed, but a full cry wasn’t common. He wasn’t sure what could have caused such a breakdown after what seemed like a fairly regular day.
Qifrey leaned down, settling Coco next to Olly, and only letting her go after she released him. He perched next to her, one hand still on her back and stroking half-moons with his thumb, the other palm up on his lap in case she wanted more comfort. “Now, can you tell us what’s going on?”
Coco shook her head, her fingers fidgeting with the skirts of her nightgown.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Olly asked only for Coco to shake her head again.
“Did something happen with Agott?” No. “Tetia?” No. “Riche?” No.
“What about me or Professor Qifrey?”
“Of course not!” She reached out for Qifrey’s hand, holding on tightly, so he squeezed back with what he hoped was reassurance. “No… nothing with anyone here.”
Ah.
“Is it your mom?” Qifrey guessed again only to be shut down.
He was running out of ideas. He had a brief flash to the cabinet of products he made Alaira pick out, due to having no personal experience with them. She had laughed, but if he was right and they hadn’t had time to run into town the moment one of the girls got her monthlies he was going to be riding that vindication for weeks. Before he could ask, and sparing them all that conversation for the night, Olly had another idea.
“Tartah?” Olly’s low voice was finally met with a nod.
Qifrey felt a little jolt of surprise draw his eyebrows together. They had seemed fine earlier, nothing all that different from their usual chatter anytime they were at the shop. Had they encountered frightening magic again?
He recalled his previous discussion with Olruggio before everything went sideways at Silver Eve. If the children had gotten in over their heads again, he needed to be calm and trustworthy.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, gently squeezing her hand.
Coco bit her lip, glancing between them for a second before nodding.
“I, um,” she paused, wiping at her cheeks. They were flushed pink and still wet, with only more tears hanging onto her eyelashes. Qifrey took his hand back to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. He gently dabbed at her face before she took it from him. “I asked if he wanted to go to the festival this weekend with me. I mean, I know we are all going, I just thought…”
“You thought he might want to spend some time with just you?” Olly asked quietly, head tilted close with a gentle frown. “You like him, don’t you? As more than a friend?”
Oh. The points finally connected and Qifrey felt his stomach drop.
He knew when he took on four young girls that drama would come. He felt equipped to handle their lessons as their professor. And the day-to-day reality of cooking and cleaning and caring for them were well within his skill set, or were quickly solvable by asking Alaira a few questions about products. But he had always felt less confident about his ability to sort through the emotional messes. Fighting or jealousy or crushes…
His own strategy, his whole life, had been dedicated to sheer avoidance and repression. He avoided the witches in the Great Hall, even going so far as to move away the instant he was allowed. He kept up a distant but technically present relationship with his old mentor, although if he was honest with himself he would prefer even more distance still. He avoided becoming close enough friends with anyone to even have any drama. Alaira was, again, the closest thing he had to a friend and they weren’t close enough to have ever faced any drama between them - though perhaps mutually witnessing their fair share in the Great Hall and the failed Second Test counted?
Either way, the only witch he worried about, beside the girls, was Olly.
And claiming Olly was a friend would be wildly underselling his own feelings.
Qifrey thought about Olly every second he wasn’t thinking about the girls. He worried. He wanted. He spent hours staring at the sky or the wall and wishing, imagining, how things would be if he could just… and then he prodded at his guilt, stoking the flames until friendship, concern, and guilt were the only recognizable emotions and the creaking beneath his skin went away.
Even in his daydreams where he was able to show Olly how in love with him he was, and it was allowed and fine with no threat of Qifrey taking root, he was so happy that the silverwood began to creak. So he would pull the dream to heel, recall that Olly would never love him back after he learned of the years - well past a decade, now - that Qifrey had spent erasing his memories over and over.
Yet even then, from the depths of repression and guilt and panting from simultaneous fear and want on his bedroom floor, his solution was to tie his soul to his love’s forever. To run an atelier together, essentially raise four teenage girls together, and spend every night wishing and then desperately shoving his wish back into its box.
So, no. He did not feel particularly prepared to help Coco navigate her rejected crush.
“That hurts, sweetheart, I know,” Olly murmured, his hand running down her back and briefly over Qifrey’s own, sparks skittering up his arm despite the circumstances. “It’s hard to hear someone doesn’t feel the same way about you.”
“I… I feel so embarrassed," Coco whined, blinking rapidly before swiping at her tears again. Qifrey quieted the urge to take the kerchief and treat her more gently than she was treating herself. He settled for smoothing strands of her hair away from her flushed face.
Something about Olly’s phrasing, or tone, perhaps, caught in Qifrey’s mind.
“I know,” Olly soothed again, his hand still tracing down her back and over the tips of Qifrey’s fingers. “Trust me, I know. But it’ll pass.”
“You… someone turned you down?” She peered at Olruggio, biting her lip when he nodded. The snag in Qifrey’s mind ripped into a gaping hole. “Oh, but you’re so great! You’re so smart and handsome and you invent so many good things! Professor Qifrey always talks about how smart you are and how you were the star student as kids… if you don’t have a chance then how am I ever supposed to get a date!”
Qifrey froze, most of Coco’s words lost to him as he felt blinding jealousy suddenly rise in his chest and tried to remember, tried to think of anyone who… Olruggio had never mentioned anyone. A crush. A date. A kiss. Nothing. Even when there had been events, dances or whatever, that the other witches had been excited about, gossiping over dates and outfits and the like. Olly had always hidden away with Qifrey, pilfering the dessert table and sprinting away to a hidden nook where neither of their masters could find them.
He swallowed again and tried to keep the disappointment and envy off his face.
It wasn’t even fair for him to be upset. It was natural, normal, for Olruggio to have had a crush - many crushes, actually, probably, since they were children.
Most witches weren’t like Qifrey.
They didn’t have one love that they had never confessed.
They didn’t get rescued from the depths of the ocean at a young age with no memory of other friendships or feelings only to develop a deep attachment to their rescuer. They didn’t rely on that person for everything, including their very life, while simultaneously poisoning that relationship with the very memory erasing spell that was saving them.
They didn’t feel so much relief at their best friend, their partner and person in life, learning their begrudging secret that they started to sprout into a tree.
They didn’t bite their tongue watching their friend diligently work in front of the fire, or chop vegetables for dinner, or gaze out at the landscape and wish, more than even for that tree to truly be gone, that they could just kiss them one time.
Qifrey couldn’t kiss Olly without telling him the truth. And if he did ever get to kiss Olly and tell him how he actually felt… that would be Qifrey’s most treasured memory.
His other, no matter how dark and twisted, was when they switched tassels after the third test. It was watching Olly show how much he cared for Qifrey, feeling the wood retreat, and then rushing to smooth his hands over Olly’s hair and face, make sure he was sitting in a comfortable position, that he was dry and there was a warm fire going, even though it was a poor repayment for his best friend’s sacrifice.
And just in case that would have been true for Olly, because he would never really know, Qifrey couldn’t live with the possibility that he might have erased both of his most treasured memories too.
How could he do that and still claim he loved Olly? How could he do that and still live with himself?
Coco leaned into Olly’s space, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Olruggio’s expression softened as he petted her hair back from her forehead, where it pressed into his chest. The sight of them hugging, a rarity in their atelier, had Qifrey’s heart clenching even tighter in his chest.
He didn’t think this could get any more painful; watching one of his pupils struggle with her emotions while he listened to the love of his life reference his own crushes as Qifery just sat there, useless.
Then it clicked. Even if Qifrey didn’t have any advice about asking someone out, dating, or even being properly rejected, he did know about a broken heart. He knew how to live alongside hurt and longing.
“It does hurt,” he agreed, watching Olly’s face turn up to face him out of the corner of his eye. Qifrey diligently kept his gaze on the little of Coco’s face he could see. “And I know it will get better for you.”
“Promise?” she whispered.
“I promise,” he agreed easily. It wasn’t true for him, but it would be for her. “And in the meantime, anytime you need a hug I’m here.”
“Me too. And I bet the other girls agree,” Olly agreed, before adding, “although I wouldn’t hug Agott out of nowhere.”
Coco’s giggle was muffled but there, bright from behind Olruggio’s flowing white shirt. .
“I was going to make Olruggio and I a cup of tea, would you like one too?” She nodded, tucked in against Olly still so he headed to the kitchen.
Qifrey took a deep breath, trying to set aside all the feelings that had been suddenly uprooted, and set about drawing a simple pyreball for the kettle. Once it was humming away, he considered their tea options. He decided his favorite willowgrape would probably soothe them all, maybe with a little sweetener for Coco. A couple spoonfuls of tea got added to the teapot while he waited for the water to boil. He pulled the sugar bowl down from the shelf, setting a spoon nearby.
There was movement from the couch just as he was turning to bring three mugs over. Olly was carrying Coco, who looked fast asleep against his shoulder.
“Oof, she’s getting big. Or I’m getting weaker… either way I’ll take her back to bed,” Olruggio kept his voice low and quiet, but it still carried over the gentle pops of the fire and hum of the kettle.
“The tea will be ready when you get back,” Qifrey smiled, unable to totally ignore the warmth in his chest as he watched Olly carry one of their girls to bed. It was a gentle heat, one that felt like sitting outside on the first day of summer, watching the grass swirl in the wind.
This was why, if he was actually smart, he would have chosen a different path. The worries of a professor were nothing compared to the joys. And he suspected having such an attentive and caring Watchful Eye, to say nothing of the man being the singular love of Qifrey’s life, ultimately only made that care an even greater threat to Qifrey’s wellbeing.
He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
By the time Olruggio came downstairs, Qifrey was set up by the fire with two mugs of tea. He was gently sliding the black ribbon of his hat between his fingers, soothed by the familiar feeling of silk and the reminder of his goal and, as he saw it, promise to try to solve the silverwood seed within him.
Olly sat down on his left, a foot between them. Qifrey tried to feel as pleased with the late night tea he had would have been before Coco’s interruption, rather than consider all that her own struggles had dredged up.
“Well, we knew that was coming someday,” Olly said before taking a sip of tea and humming in contentment.
“Did we?” Qifrey felt the light coolness of the magically maintained ribbon glide along his hand. It seemed odd to him that something from Olly would maintain its cool temperature so easily given how warm it’s original owner was and his natural inclination for fire magic. Perhaps it was a carry over of his native village.
“Four girls? We were bound to deal with heartbreak eventually,” Olly replied, his own eyes set on Qifrey’s fingers. “Don’t know that Tartah seems worth it though. He’s a nice kid, don’t get me wrong just…”
“Whose good enough for any of them?” Qifrey tilted his head to better see Olruggio and distract himself from the man’s fixed gaze on his hand. “You know, this was all very soft of you, Watchful Eye.”
“Eh,” Olly grunted. “They grow on you.”
“That they do,” he agreed.
Olruggio’s gaze was still on his hand as Qifrey ran the tassel over his fingers in familiar patterns. For every moment of heartbreak, every spell-hushed sob or robe-stifled cry, this ribbon had been there with him. Even the girls had noticed, teasing him lightly when he would play with it while considering a particularly difficult question or idea.
It was soothing, a tell he tried to quiet in public. He didn’t need the gossips in the Great Hall to have any more fodder. Especially after Alaira had clocked their trade so quickly, asking questions before Qifrey had prepared a story.
“I didn’t know,” Qifrey asked, knowing he wasn’t ready for the answer and regretting the words even as they passed his lips, “I didn’t know you had ever asked anyone out.”
“Oh,” Olruggio had flushed red, still watching as Qifrey wrapped his ribbon around his drawing fingers. Qifrey felt more aware of his movements than he did casting even the most complicated of spells.
“It… I didn’t. Really. I just had a crush and before I could ask it became clear they didn’t share my feelings. It was a long time ago, it’s fine,” Olly dismissed, swallowing again as he watched Qifrey fidget.
It was on the edge of his tongue to ask who. He could feel the words in his mouth, but held back.
There was no answer that would bring him anything but torment. Which would be helpful for managing his condition, but after the turbulence of the night he just wasn’t sure he could navigate the choppy seas of his own emotions once again. The tree had been fed enough guilt and grief to stay sated and dormant for the day. He could have one moment of stability.
So he held his tongue and took another slow sip of his tea.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, you know,” Olruggio said, blinking slowly as he watched the watery glide of the ribbon. “Living out here with the girls, and you.”
Qifrey inhaled, a soft sound but clearly audible in the otherwise quiet room.
“Me either,” Qifrey managed, his throat feeling dry despite the tea. The fire illuminated a blush as it rose across the other man’s cheeks, obscured partly by his facial hair. “I know it isn’t what we initially thought, when you showed me this building all those years ago but…”
“It’s home,” Olly finished and Qifrey found himself nodding.
He had found the very edge of how much joy he was allowed to have without losing it. If this was all he ever got, it would be enough.