Daughter of a Witch

A Perfect Fall Day

The first Saturday of October dawned with the kind of crisp sunlight that made everything seem gilded in warmth. Golden light filtered through the curtains of the Harkness-Vidal kitchen, landing on the polished wood of the table and the steaming mugs of coffee in front of Agatha and Rio.

Agatha sat with her legs crossed, robe draped elegantly over her as if it were spun silk rather than old cotton. She cradled her coffee, inhaling deeply before taking a slow sip. Across from her, Rio was perched comfortably, her own mug resting in her hands, curls falling loose around her shoulders. She looked effortlessly alive in the morning light, though Agatha suspected it was the coffee doing the real work.

The only one not enjoying himself was slouched in the chair between them. Nicholas Vidal-Harkness, Nicky to his family, had his head pillowed in his arms on the table, groaning at intervals like a wounded animal. His messy hair stuck up in odd tufts, and his socks were mismatched.

"Remind me again why we're awake before noon?" he mumbled into his arms.

"Because civilized people enjoy the morning, darling," Agatha replied smoothly, taking another sip of her coffee. "It's called appreciating life."

"Civilized people are overrated," Nicky muttered, lifting his head just enough to squint balefully at her.

Rio chuckled, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. "He's twelve, Aggie. You'll have to forgive him. Mornings are his mortal enemy."

"I'm twelve, not dead," Nicky protested weakly, though he didn't stop her from mussing his hair further.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted their banter. A moment later, Y/n descended with the kind of grace that could only come from confidence. Sixteen, sharp-eyed and bright, she looked like autumn herself had dressed her that morning. Her long, wavy brown hair, Agatha's gift to her, framed her face in perfect, glossy waves, and her brown eyes, Rio's legacy, sparkled in the light. She wore black leggings under a soft skirt, a light brown sweater tucked neatly, and ankle boots clicking softly on the floor. Her glasses had already begun their inevitable slide down her nose.

"Good morning, Mama. Good morning, Mami." Her voice was cheerful but not overdone, warm like the day itself.

Agatha's lips curled in a proud smile. "Good morning, darling girl."

Rio beamed at her, soft and fond. "Mornin', mi corazón. You look like you walked out of an autumn magazine."

"Thanks," Y/n said, tugging the sweater's hem straight as she moved to pour herself a mug of coffee. She fixed it the way she liked, just enough cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon. She slid into the seat beside Nicky, giving him a playful nudge. "What's wrong with you?"

"She's awake," Nicky groaned dramatically. "At this hour. It's unnatural."

Y/n smirked into her mug. "Some of us can function before lunch, Nicky."

"Some of us shouldn't," he shot back, but his words lacked bite.

The kitchen was filled with soft laughter and the clink of mugs. Outside, the leaves drifted past the windows, flashes of orange and red against a bright blue sky.

Rio leaned back in her chair, stretching. "Feels like the perfect day to do something."

"Like what?" Nicky asked, voice cautious. He clearly feared she meant yard work.

Rio tapped her chin, pretending to think deeply. "Hmm... I don't know. Maybe... the farmers' market?"

Agatha arched a brow. "Ah, the grand pilgrimage to Town Square, where overpriced gourds reign supreme."