18 minutes and 46 seconds.
It’s a new record for being late, Dovey notes when the dean for evil enters the grand library located near one of the good school’s towers. With her heels and the tip of her cane heavy on the stone floor, echoing through the large room, the red haired witch slowly makes her way to the long table in the center, seemingly unbothered by the annoyed looks other teachers are greeting her with. Wrapping her slim fingers around the top of the wooden backrest to pull the chair away from the table she acknowledges only the fairy godmother with a short nod.
18 minutes and 46 seconds is almost double the time Lady Lesso needs to make her way over to the other building. With a schedule as tight as it is and her last class ending right when the monthly staff meeting starts she doesn’t stand a chance to be on time, and the usual ache in her bad leg adds yet another challenge to the trip across the bridge, the climb of five floors and a stair count of 347. Today’s time is proof of a bad day, even if she hides it well.
But Clarissa knows her. She knows the thin crease between the other woman’s eyebrows on her otherwise flawless face, she knows the way her breathing changes and how long it normally takes to even out, she knows what others could only describe as an unreadable look on her face. Hidden behind a wall Leonora had forged from trauma and abuse lies consuming pain, so much of it that it makes her short tempered and irritated, to the point where she snaps and hisses and yells, threatens, and the dean for good sits on the other side of the table without any chance to get through to her.
18 minutes and 46 seconds. It’s her knee again — at least that’s what Clarissa expects as Leonora tends to get herself into trouble in the Blue Forest and could bear all kinds of injuries under the woolen armor of hers — but the stairs must’ve troubled her and she has leaned on the cane more than usual, even just a tiny bit. Enough for the good dean to become suspicious and, of course, terribly worried.
Focusing on the meeting turns into a challenge. However, it gets easier when Leonora lashes out again, targets Professor Anemone, and she has to step in to interfere.
41 minutes and 14 seconds and it’s over, the staff is leaving, scurrying back to work. Evil is returning to the castle on the other side of the lake, Good ascends to their classrooms. Leonora stays in her seat and closes her eyes to collect herself, fully aware of Clarissa right across the table and yet ignorant of her. A single, deep breath later silver nails are pinching the bridge of her nose.
“It’s almost like having to deal with a mob of children” the dean for evil mutters before she raises her head again and opens her eyes, meeting Clarissa’s. “Another year and I will retire.”
It makes the other dean chuckle. “You are barely 37, you can start thinking about your retirement when you’re close to 100. Come on, let’s get you to my chambers.” With that the fairy godmother is on her feet already, right by Leonora’s side, and gently reaches under her elbow to help her up. “I know your leg has been bothering you.”
Leonora stays seated, unwilling to get up just yet. Clarissa is right and bothering doesn’t even seem a word powerful enough to scratch the surface of the inconvenience and pain caused by her damned leg, but it still seems too much to accept the other woman’s help. Even now, still, after years of slowly letting her in. “I’m fine.” It’s an automated reply she gives that doesn’t need much thought. None actually. It just slips out.
“You’re in pain. Let me help, Nora. Please.”
Removing her hand from the woman’s elbow Clarissa backs off a few inches. Not much, not too far, but enough to give the dean for evil space and allow her to move and get up on her own, like she has requested. Backing her into a corner only makes things worse — something the fairy godmother had learned over the years — and so offering her hand is enough. Leonora reaches for it once she manages to push herself up.
“How bad is it?”
“Terrible” the redhead mumbles and swallows a grunt. “The worst it’s been.”
The cane isn’t enough anymore. Leonora almost loses her balance, the mixture of raw nerves and her heels suddenly too much, pain biting itself up towards her hip and Clarissa immediately shifts closer, bringing her upper arm against the other woman’s ribs, shoulder pressing into an armpit, an arm curling around her waist. Warm hands on woolen fabric, weight being taken off Leonora’s bad leg. She exhales shakily.
Clarissa hums. “Lean on me, I got you.”
_____
Together they make it to Clarissa’s chambers without being disturbed by students. The sun lured them outside for a break, an hour of leisure during the day, granting the deans silence and, most importantly for Leonora, privacy. She would’ve lunged at the first one to see them, bad leg or not, and the state she was in made her even more dangerous than usual.
By the time the two women set foot into the good dean’s private rooms the witch is holding her breath and Clarissa is struggling to keep her co-dean upright. She wasn’t heavy by any means, but carrying a good chunk of her weight across the castle wasn’t something she did regularly, leaving her feeling like she had just completed a workout.
“Get in bed, pants off” the blonde instructs with her voice soft and yet clear enough to deny any possibly upcoming arguments. “Let me have a look at it.”
“You won’t see anything” Leonora replies surprisingly quietly as she shifts onto the mattress, unbuttoning her coat in the process. Compliance isn’t something she is known for, so having her follow simple instructions is something that tells Dovey how bad it really is. “It’s swollen at most.” It’s not her first time sitting on Clarissa’s bed, yet alone lying down and getting as comfortable as possible. She had been there just the weekend prior, naked and curled up as they both drifted in and out of sleep on a slow Sunday morning. “I might need some help with this, Princess.” With that the woman falls back against the pillows and covers her eyes with her arm, coat unbuttoned and pants unzipped on her hips.
Of course Clarissa is there just moments later and gently peels the fabric back, careful to avoid putting too much pressure in any way on the woman’s bad leg. Swollen at most turns out to be worse than expected, with pale skin in some spots aggressively red and scars littered around that look too fresh for her liking, and for a moment the fairy godmother just stands there and fails to pull away.
“It is only Thursday, how did it get so bad in such little time?” A hand finds its way around Leonora’s knee, resting on the bend of it and helping her raise it enough for a pillow to be placed underneath and much to her surprise the extra support helps tremendously. Or maybe it’s just Clarissa’s gentle touch, she doesn’t know. “You were fine on Sunday.”
The redhead nods slowly and forces herself to lean back. She trusts the dean for good with her life, more than anyone else on this planet, and knows that she’s in good hands. She might actually get some sleep that night instead of her damned limb keeping her up to watch the sun come up.
It’s bad. Terrible, it hurts, Leonora bites her own arm when the fairy godmother lowers her fingertips to bring them closer to the aching muscles. There’s always pressure but barely pain, at least not like this, and it takes longer than usual for the acidic burn to subside. Good magic differs from evil magic and although the witch is the most powerful evil around she’s struggling with healing spells. The basics are something she had taught herself early on, even if being on the dark side meant having to work harder for it, but this truly was exceeding her abilities and she was beyond thankful for the help.
“Little more” the blonde fairy mumbles quietly and moves up the other woman’s thigh, drags her fingertips around like a pattern, pushes them under the thin fabric of her panties to be able to reach Leonora’s hip. “How far up does it hurt?”
“Just there” Leonora replies and gasps for the air she didn’t know she had denied herself moments ago. “Fuck!”
“I know, I’m sorry. You’ll be sore tomorrow, I can already tell."
The witch doesn’t react and instead squeezes her eyes shut when another wave of pain travels through her body and intensifies, making her heart stop for a moment and the world around her spin. “It’s the nerves,” she says weakly, “they’re raw.”
“You should’ve stayed in bed and called for me.”
“I am not weak.”
“I didn’t say that. I said that you should’ve stayed in bed and called for me.”
At some point Leonora loses consciousness. The pain is overwhelming to the point where it reaches into her jaw, digs through her teeth, makes her head hurt, where she goes limp and — with Clarissa fearing she’d throw up — gets turned onto her side, hand tucked under her chin, clothes except her underwear gone and neatly folded on a pile by the vanity. The duvet keeps Leonora warm and exposes only her head and her bad leg as the corner is folded aside to grant the healers Clarissa consults just minutes later a look at it.
They can’t help.