the witch next door [zarry] ✔️

vii

"I'm here to bring back your clothes, and get mine," Zain says, holding up the bag with the freshly washed clothes the witch lent him.

"Where's my little witch apprentice?" Harry asks, leaning against the door jam and making no move to take the bag from Zain.

"At home," Zain answers. He holds up the bag, so it is very obviously dangling from his hand. "I just wanted to drop this off."

"Mm," the witch hums. "All right. But you're not getting your clothes back until I see the little witch again."

"She's not a witch," Zain says. "You don't have to indulge her."

Harry grins at him, leaning forward slightly like he's about to share a secret. "She's a wonderful witch," he says, his breath hitting Zain's face. Zain parts his lips slightly, overwhelmed by the closeness and Harry's scent, like herbs and wet earth but also somewhat sweet. 

The witch holds his gaze for a moment, watching him intently, before straightening again, pushing the hair from his forehead. "I'll see you, Zain," he says, taking the bag from Zain's slack fingers and closing the door in Zain's face. 

Zain stares at the wood for far too long, looking at the paint peeling slightly from it, idly wondering if he should offer to put a new coat on in. The cat hisses, jumping on the window ledge next to the door, hissing again when Zain looks at him.

"I'm going," he says, shaking his head slightly. "You're not a very nice cat, are you?" he adds. "I hope you're nicer to my sister."

The cat blinks at him lazily, his tails swishing sharply.

"I'm going," Zain says again, rolling his eyes and jogging down the few steps. "Don't panic."

He doesn't turn around, not once while he makes his way across the small garden path and down the lane towards the village and back to his mother's house but he feels eyes on his back the whole time, the cat probably making sure he doesn't get any ideas.

🌱

Safaa is waiting for him in front of their house, her hands on her hips and a very displeased frown on her face. "Why did you go without me?" Safaa complains as soon as she sees him. "He said he'd teach me another potion."

"Don't worry," Zain answers. "He wouldn't give me my clothes unless you're there."

"Really?" Safaa beams. "Perfect. Can we go tomorrow? I know that's your favourite shirt, you'll want it back."

"Babes," Zain sighs. "You know tomorrow is mum's day off."

"Right," Safaa says, "Forgot. But the day after, right? I've been reading the book he lent me and I think I wanna try and make an energising potion. Mum could use it."

"Didn't you do that last time?"

"No, Zain!" Safaa sighs, jumping onto his back to let herself be carried into the kitchen. "That was an immune booster. Still very useful but very different from energising ones," she says sagely, like she wasn't wearing a Spice Girls shirt and had glitter on her nose. Zain isn't sure if it was makeup or from crafts, but he wasn't going to point it out in case it was fashion or something. He is ears are still burning from the last time he tried to point out a - what he had considered - flaw in his sisters' makeup.

"All right," Zain says, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. She was taking it far more seriously than he'd ever expected, especially considering that she hated cooking and all that came with it. "Start on the potatoes, Saf."

It's not that he minds, there is just the undercurrent of worry, because he knows how the village is treating the witch already and how they will look down on Safaa if they ever discover it. And mum wouldn't be too happy either, not with how cautious and suspicious she was.

"You promise we'll go tomorrow?" Safaa asks, frowning at him as she lifts the bag of potatoes on the counter, hopping up beside it to sit crossed-legged as she works. 

"I promise," Zain says, watching her blow her hair out of her face.

The door falls shut loudly. "Hey!" Waliyha calls from the hallways, her boots thumping against the wall as she kicks them off. 

"Hi," Safaa beams at her. "Did you get any leftovers?"

"Only bananas," Waliyha says, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. "Can you make banana bread, Zain? I can't stand the smell of overripe bananas and they are all on the verge already. Saf, you've got glitter on your nose."

"What?" Safaa shrieks, shooting Zain a look. "Why don't you say anything? I was in the garden like this!"

"I thought it was on purpose," Zain shrugs. Safaa huffs, jumping off the counter and running up the stairs loudly. 

Waliyha snorts. "You're hopeless sometimes," she says, kissing his cheek. "It's why we make you stay at home while we bring home the cash."

"You mostly bring home overripe fruit," Zain says drily, hugging her around the shoulder.

"And bruised veggies, don't forget," Waliyah yawns. "Why are you looking so glum? Even if you thought it was on purpose, Saf looked ridiculous with her glittery nose."

"It's just my face," Zain answers. "She did look a bit stupid," he grins.

Waliyha laughs at him. "I'm gonna get changed and then come help. Mum and Doniya should be home soon, Doniya texted."

"Kay," Zain nods, turning back to cutting up the meat. "Make sure Saf comes back down."

"Will do, will do," Waliyha yawns again stretching her arms over her head. "Did you know that the witch is male?"

"What?" Zain asks, confused. "I mean, yea, you know I met him. Why?"

"Right, I forgot. Mrs Prichard was at the bus stop and you know how she is, insisted on 'walking with me'," she rolls her eyes. "Apparently it's a man and the old gossips can't decide if that makes it more or less dangerous. You know, cause they say the male ones aren't as in tune with the moon or whatever."

"He seemed plenty witchy," Zain shrugs. "Worse sense of style than Safaa."

Waliyha snorts. "That seems impossible. But I mean. She does want to be a witch. Seems like she's on the right path. I'll be upstairs," she adds unconcerned, popping a tomato into her mouth and biting down, half the juice dripping down her chin.

Zain rolls his eyes. "Send Safaa down," he reminds her, choosing not to comment, turning the stove on.

"Yes, sir," Waliyha says sarcastically, saluting.

🌿

very little zarry sorry