Daughter of a Witch

Storm's Fury

The storm rolled in with a vengeance, dark clouds swirling over Westview like an ominous shroud. The wind howled, shaking the branches of the old oak trees lining the street. Flashes of lightning illuminated the darkening sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance like a brewing argument.

Upstairs, Y/n was sprawled across her bed, her textbook open and a notebook balanced precariously on her lap. She tapped her pen against her lips, staring at the same line for what felt like the hundredth time. The storm outside was distracting, but not in a bad way. She'd always found comfort in storms-the way they seemed to wash the world clean, their sheer power a reminder of nature's force.

Still, this one was louder than usual. The first boom of thunder startled her, and she glanced toward the window. The wind whipped the trees violently, and the first raindrops began pelting against the glass. She sighed and reached for her phone, snapping a quick picture of the brewing chaos outside.

Y/n: "Looks like the apocalypse out there. Power bets?"
Rio: "Ten bucks says it's out by dinner."
Agatha: "It'll last. I have faith in this town's ancient wiring."
Y/n: "Famous last words."

She laughed to herself, putting the phone down and returning to her notes. The storm was growing louder by the second, and the flicker of her desk lamp didn't inspire confidence in the power grid. A particularly loud clap of thunder rattled the window, and she groaned.

"Fine, universe, I'll take a break," she muttered, snapping her book shut.

Downstairs, the kitchen was alive with the sounds of chopping and sizzling. Agatha moved with practiced precision, her hands deftly preparing eggplant parmesan. The kitchen smelled heavenly, a mix of roasted tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil filling the air. She was muttering to herself, half a spell and half an argument with the stubborn cheese that refused to grate the way she wanted.

"Talking to yourself again?" Rio teased, leaning against the counter with a mischievous smirk.

Agatha shot her a look but didn't pause her movements. "I'm talking to the cheese, actually. It's being uncooperative."

Rio laughed, sauntering closer and slipping an arm around Agatha's waist. Her fingers danced absentmindedly over Agatha's side, earning a soft shiver. "Want me to hex it for you?"

"No," Agatha replied, her tone exasperated but fond. "I'll manage, thank you."

"You always do," Rio said, kissing Agatha's temple and lingering there momentarily before resting her chin on Agatha's shoulder. Her free hand slid down, resting lightly on Agatha's hip.

Agatha sighed but leaned into the touch. "You call stealing mushrooms off my cutting board 'helping'?"

Rio grinned, plucking another piece of roasted mushroom and popping it into her mouth. "I call it quality control."

"Thief," Agatha muttered, though her lips twitched into a small smile.

Just then, Y/n appeared in the doorway, her socks sliding slightly on the polished wood floor. "Smells amazing in here," she said, dropping her phone on the counter.

"Don't encourage her," Rio said, though her eyes sparkled affectionately.

"Dinner's almost ready," Agatha announced, sliding the baking dish into the oven with a flourish. She wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face her daughter. "How's the studying going?"

"It's not," Y/n admitted, leaning against the counter. "Too noisy."

"Excuses," Agatha said with mock sternness. "I studied through blizzards in Salem."

"You didn't have Wi-Fi back then," Y/n said, grinning.

"Touché." Agatha grabbed a spoon and stirred a pot of marinara sauce simmering on the stove.

Once the food was ready, the three of them settled at the dining table, their laughter and conversation filling the room as the storm continued to rage outside. Agatha served generous portions of eggplant parmesan, the melted cheese bubbling perfectly on top.

"This," Y/n said around a mouthful, "is ridiculously good."

"Of course it is," Agatha replied with a smirk. "I made it."

"You're insufferable when you're right," Rio said, though the way her hand found Agatha's on the table suggested she didn't mind one bit.

The storm intensified as they ate, the wind howling like a living thing. The lights flickered once or twice and then went out completely, plunging the house into darkness.

"Called it," Y/n said, reaching for her phone to use as a flashlight.

"Don't worry," Agatha said, waving a hand. Purple orbs of light appeared above the table, casting a warm glow over their faces.

"Show-off," Rio teased, nudging her wife.

"Practical," Agatha corrected.

After dinner, they moved to the living room. This time, Rio took charge of the fire, crouching by the hearth. Agatha sat on the loveseat, tucking her legs under herself as she watched Rio with a soft smile. When Rio finally lit the fire, she stood, dusting her hands off theatrically, then settled beside Agatha. Her arm draped lazily along the back of the loveseat while her other hand rested on Agatha's thigh.

Y/n glanced up from her blanket cocoon on the couch. "Gross," she muttered, though her tone lacked any real disdain. "Seriously, do you two have a switch, or is it just constant?"

"It's constant," Rio said with a smirk, squeezing Agatha's thigh for emphasis.

Agatha chuckled. "She'll understand someday."

"Doubt it," Y/n quipped, pulling her blanket over her head.

"Let her sulk," Rio whispered, leaning closer to Agatha, their foreheads almost touching. "More time for us."

"You're impossible," Agatha replied, though she didn't move away.

"Gross!" came Y/n's muffled voice, earning a round of laughter from her mothers.

Eventually, the storm's noise became more of a background lullaby. Y/n yawned, her phone slipping from her hand.

"Tired already?" Agatha asked softly.

"Maybe," Y/n mumbled. "Can I sleep in your room tonight? Just... for the storm?"

Agatha smiled gently. "Of course, darling."

The three of them went upstairs, Y/n trailing behind with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. They piled onto the bed in the bedroom, Y/n snug between Agatha and Rio.

"Goodnight, my loves," Rio murmured, her voice soothing against the raging storm.

"Goodnight," Y/n whispered, already half-asleep.

Although the storm continued to roar outside, inside the Harkness-Vidal home, everything was calm, warm, and safe.