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While Howl and Sophie held hands, smiling at each other and paying very little mind to the joyous frenzy of chatter going on around them, a thought occurred to Fanny. Fanny watched the din of requests fly toward the young couple who only broke eye contact to greet the spooky fire demon upon his return. Fanny watched the couple lean toward each other after welcoming the demon home and inch closer and closer together as they returned to their lovestruck gazing. Fanny watched her step-daughter bite her lower lip and the wizard Howl wet his as the two grinned and grinned.
“A midsummer feast!” Fanny exclaimed over the noise of requests and celebrations.
Food had obviously not occurred to anyone present, and at Fanny’s insistence it seemed an appropriate plan after such an ordeal. Mrs. Fairfax, who watched the young couple just as closely as Fanny did, jumped at the idea and immediately began planning the courses. Fanny insisted, no, demanded that Lettie and Martha and Michael come assist her, for there was much to prepare on very short notice. She also demanded (much more politely) that Prince Justin and the Wizard Suliman accompany their little group to sample her husband’s brandy selection and regain their strength after such an ordeal. She even invited Calcifer along, (though his invitation was a timid request rather than an order), which he reluctantly obliged after Michael opened the front door, showing proof that it was not raining in Kingsbury.
Sophie and Howl vaguely registered their invitation to come to the feast in a few hours time.
And so with a bossiness rival to no one but Sophie, Fanny ushered the last of their queer little group out of the castle. She turned to close the door behind her just in time to see Sophie and Howl, her step-daughter and the notorious wizard, close the distance between themselves, their lips meeting in a first kiss.
Fanny couldn’t help but smile, hoping Howl was more of a gentleman than his reputation suggested, and knowing that her level-headed Sophie would not suffer any of his lovelorn shenanigans.
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Sophie spent the morning after midsummer’s day with a knot in her chest. When she first woke in her familiar little bed under the stairs, sunlight streaming through the windows, she forgot she had become young again. It was only the sight of her red gold hair, and the smooth skin on the backs of her hands that reminded her. Then, all at once, she remembered the previous day.
Sophie remembered the deaths of the Witch and Miss Angorian, her family visit, her very first kiss (with Howl, no less!), and the dozens of kisses that followed. Some chaste and tender, some deeper and wanting, each one perfect in their own right (and one in particular which made Sophie blush a vibrant crimson and feel a lot of odd sensations that were still fairly new to the young maiden). She remembered how she conveniently forgot to attend Fanny’s feast and hoped her stepmother would forgive her. She also remembered sitting side by side with Howl on the little sofa, a proud arm draped over her shoulder while they dined on bread and cheese and fruit. She remembered Howl playfully trying to feed her grapes, much to Sophies consternation, and the small quarrel that followed (because after all, she would not be subjected to the same, superficial courting tricks that Howl had attempted with dozens of other women). She remembered spending the rest of evening with her head feeling light from wine and her heart full with love and Howl’s arms wrapped around her in her as they sat together in the familiar little bed under the stairs.
The memories and emotions from last night elicited a groan from Sophie who wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or cross with Fanny for clearing out the castle. For that matter, was she pleased or cross with Howl for loving her? At the moment she was leaning toward cross, or maybe that was the after effects of the wine.
Sophie’s groan startled Calcifer who crackled and burned contentedly in the fireplace.
“Sophie, it’s not like you to sleep in so late,” Calcifer said, popping and crackling and sliding out from between the logs. “You missed quite a feast.”
“Oh Calcifer,” Sophie said, sitting up in her bed, a dull ache in the front of her head from the wine. “So it all happened then. The witch, the prince, the contracts… none of it was a dream?”
“Of course not,” Calcifer’s orange eyes regarded Sophie who looked away. “Would you rather it have been?”
“Oh, how should I know!” She despaired and flopped down in her bed again, feeling as dramatic as Howl.
Maybe if she tried hard enough she could cover the castle in green slime, have Howl clean up after her for a change. A smirk pulled at the corners of Sophie’s mouth at the thought of it. Thinking of Howl and messes, Sophie shot back up again. She looked about the room, surveying the mess from her fight with Miss Angorian and immediately noticed the bathroom door was ajar, showing an empty room that was uncharacteristically missing its usual floral aromas.
Howl must have retreated to his room after Sophie drifted off.
“It’s so quiet, where is everyone?” She asked.
“Michael went out early, skipped breakfast and everything, rambling about spells and pies. As for Howl, I haven’t seen him come downstairs and I can happily say I have absolutely no idea to his whereabouts,” He said gleefully, then added a thoughtful “thanks to you, Sophie.”
Sophie smiled and nodded to her friend. Still, she didn’t feel much better.
Another glance around the room made Sophie feel even worse than before, for she allowed herself to take in just how disastrous a state the castle was in. In the scuffle with Miss Angorian jars of potion ingredients had been knocked about, many of them shattering, leaving a rainbow of colors splattered all over. The liquid ingredients reminded Sophie of Howl’s green slime. Her chair by the fireplace had been knocked over and it appeared the leg was broken. On top of it all, black burn marks from Sophie’s former walking stick could be seen all across the doorway.
How had she paid the mess no mind the night before? Sophie shook her head and pulled the covers back, swinging her legs around the side of the bed, ready to get up and start cleaning, but a thought stopped her. She remembered Howl’s words from yesterday.
“My idea of happily ever after doesn’t involve cleaning up after foolish wizards,” she said haughtily to the room and stayed put.
“Then I hope you enjoy squalor,” Calcifer teased.
Before Sophie could respond she heard the heavy thump, thump, thump of Howl’s bare feet stomping down the staircase. She’d gotten used to Howl and Michael trodding overhead, but it still seemed as if the staircase would cave in on top of her under Howl’s weight. How could such a slim man stomp about so noisily?
Sophie held her breath, waiting to see if Howl’s greeting would be joyous or regretful. Maybe he lost interest now that he had Sophie’s heart and would politely ignore her until she left. Or Maybe he would smile and hold her hand and kiss her in a way that made her blush again.
What happened was that Howl blew past her and went straight into the bathroom.
Oh no, Sophie thought, feeling the knot in her chest tighten while she watched the door intently, waiting to see if Howl would spend two hours or two minutes in there. She still wasn't sure which would be worse, but she knew if he spent all morning making himself look dazzling she would be packed and gone before he reemerged. No tears or cross aunts from Sophie. And she’d take those seven league boots with her to get as far away from here as possible. And she’d cut up his suits again, just for good measure. That would teach Howl.
Holding her breath, Sophie hazarded a glance at Calcifer but the fire demon pretended not to notice. He twisted himself about and looked up through the chimney.
“What do you know, sounds like the rain in Market Chipping has stopped,” he said to himself.
“Don't you dare,” Sophie started to say, but before she could finish her sentence Calcifer zipped up the chimney and out into the world.
All that time spent with a coward’s heart and he’s become one himself, Sophie thought glumly.
But she didn’t have time to follow that trail of logic. As quickly as he went in, Howl emerged from the bathroom looking like a proper mess. He wore his undershirt and the black suit pants from yesterday. Howl looked crumpled and wrinkled as if he slept in his clothes. Howl’s cheeks were red and splotchy, as was the skin around his eyes which he was still rubbing the sleep out from. Sophie noticed the bathroom was tragically absent of the now familiar floral scents and Howl’s most prized possession: his long, black hair was a tangled disaster. He never looked more handsome.
The knot in Sophie's chest untangled with a burst of relief, though she still felt cross with the Howl of her imagination who would dare to spend all morning in the bathroom, proving he no longer loved her.
Oh, this was all so very confusing.
“I may be a fool, but you are the one who created this mess in particular, my darling,” Howl said as a smirk grew in the corner of his mouth.
“I believe you were the one to heartlessly jilt the Witch of the Waste,” Sophie said, a bit of an edge in her voice. She crossed her arms. “At its inception, this mess is your doing.
With a graceful motion, Howl perched on the edge of the bed and leaned toward Sophie, pressing his lips to hers in a delicate kiss. His lips were soft and plush, his breath was like fresh mint. Sophie’s anger softened.
“It’s not like you to sleep in. Are you feeling quite alright?” Howl put his hand to Sophie’s forehead. Like his lips, his fingers were smooth as silk.
Typical Howl, slithering out of having to answer for himself , Sophie thought quickly pushing Howl’s hand away from her.
“I was certain that by now you’d have conquered the the mess in here and bullied Calcifer into cooking us a four course breakfast,” Howl said. “Have you grown soft in your young age?”
“I’m not your cleaning lady anymore. I quit,” Sophie said, raising her chin haughtily. “And you look frightful.”
Howl clasped both hands to his chest.
“Not twenty-four hours after I regain my heart and cruel Sophie already breaks it,” Howl announced to the room, overly-dramatic.
Sophie sighed and thought of green slime.
“Hand me my hairbrush from that table there,” she said.
Howl complied and then, at Sophie's command, sat on the floor, resting his back against Sophie’s legs and pulling one knee up, lazily resting his arm on it. Sophie’s heart leapt at feeling his weight against her.
Sophie set to work, running the hairbrush gently through Howl’s long tangles. Apparently his hair was just like the rest of him; soft and silky. Sophie very nearly called him a big, pillowy wizard but clamped her mouth shut just in time. Who knew what kind of magical calamity those words may have caused. Howl really ought to teach her.
“A flower shop is lovely, but I think I have a knack for magic,” Sophie hazarded.
“You really are quite talented. A real natural,” Howl agreed.
“I ought to learn proper magic. From a proper wizard,” Sophie continued, but the thought was interrupted.
“Ow, be careful,” Howl moaned as Sophie’s brush reached a particularly difficult knot. “It wasn’t enough to dye my hair that awful pink color, now you want to rip it right from the scalp. I’ll be bald when you’re through with me.”
Sophie took note of how Howl slithered out of the conversation, not letting her pin him down to teach her.
Typical, Sophie thought again, this time much more warmly. But still, she couldn’t help herself from arguing with him.
She set her brush down and ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the bump and curve of his scalp and tracing down to the curve of his neck.
“Maybe then you’ll be able to focus on keeping up our home rather than your vanity” Sophie said, blushing at the slip of of calling the castle their home. She felt that that was rather presumptuous, although she had been living there for several months already and Howl did promise her a happily ever after...
“Ah, but it is busy work being the Royal Wizard and taking on a second apprentice. As talented as you are I believe it would be quite a bit of work to teach you magic,” Howl reached up and slid one of Sophie’s hands down to his chest, resting it over his heart. “And my spiders find themselves displaced now that my room is freshly cleaned.”
Sophie snorted and smiled as she felt Howl’s heart thumping robustly in his chest. A tinge of pride washed over her, knowing she had restored something so precious.
“Oh no, you aren’t going to slither out of helping me clean this mess up. Or teaching me proper magic,” Sophie said, failing to sound stern.
Howl smirked and sighed, closing his eyes, his hand still clasped over Sophie’s.
“Leave it to Sophie Hatter to bully the official Royal Wizard into hard labor,” he said.
Sophie leaned forward and rested her cheek on the top of Howl’s head, and kept her free hand wrapped in his long, dark tangles. Howl smelled sweet and earthy and she much preferred it to all those floral smells he doused himself in.
“We should do this every morning,” Howl said dreamily.
“Now you want to exploit me as a beautician?” Sophie said, her voice warm and soft and humming.
“Since you live here, I don’t see why not,” Howl said.
“And what makes you assume I’ll stay now that my curse is gone? I’ve got a fortune to seek out,” Sophie teased.
“Cariad,” Howl pulled Sophie’s hand up to his lips and placed soft kiss to her wrist, “I can’t possibly fathom that you would be happy tormenting anyone else.”
Sophie kissed the top of Howl’s head and buried her grin in his hair.
She found that she quite agreed.