The Head In My Hands

The borderlands between Switzerland and France weren’t quite as bustling with witches as one might imagine. Despite the proximity, most found their homes in the quiet countryside of the United Kingdoms or nestled within the serene fields of the Netherlands, with plenty scattered across the rest of Europe.

Witches, as it was, tended to settle in rural or suburban areas, where the land met the sky in a way that felt necessary. It was here, in these pockets of calm, that they found balance—close enough to the pulse of city life, yet with enough quiet to stargaze, practise their moon rituals, or simply connect with the plants and creatures of the surrounding forests.

Of course, not every witch followed this path, but the stereotype existed for a reason.

In truth, most witches lived in ordinary, unremarkable homes on streets lined with cul-de-sacs and parks, not the whimsical dwellings the stories might lead one to believe. The media, with its romantic notions, often missed the mark, painting a picture far more magical than the reality.

Where he sat, living in the small house on the very precipice of France and Switzerland, Marley wished it was as simple as that, —a world as easily fixable and healable as the one the movies imagined.

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The soft hum of the kettle on the gas stove gave way to the crack of dawn, the same way it always did. Light, warming the windows and lighting up the kitchen, with its mismatched mugs and hand-me-down appliances – that were still better quality than anything Marley ever had growing up – held a cosy quality despite its small size.

He moved about the kitchen quietly, cautious of his still sleeping roommate as he prepared his morning tea with practised ease. The scent of chamomile filled the room, mingling with the faint trace of lingering elderberry from last night's potion. The remnants still dusting the bottom of the cauldron.

His hand trembled, and he steadied it with a grimace.

Marley took a sip of tea from his mug, holding it through the handle, rather than by the handle, and shuffled into his small workroom off the right side of the hallway. Across from Emrys bedroom, and one door to the left of his own.

Technically, it was a sunroom. With large windows lining the far wall, and the far wall far thinner than any other in the house. But Emrys had let him repurpose it.

Now, it served as his office, his ‘at-home apothecary’, a space crammed with jars of ingredients, and stacks and stacks of parchment.

He settled at the desk, ignoring the squeak the old wood made, and grabbed the list of ‘to-do’s’ sent to him by his superior over Merlin's Rest from the pile of papers tucked in the corner. He took another sip of his tea.

His attention is pulled to the corner of the desk by a shrill little beep, the familiar sound of his brick vibrating against the wood beneath it. He sets down his tea and reaches for the device, flipping it over in his hand. As expected every day, it’s the usual ‘Good morning!’ message from his ever-cheerful co-worker, Khairi Bronte, accompanied by an endless string of emoticons that seem to take up half the screen.

His lips quirk up in a smile as he types a quick ‘Morning!’ in response, the letters appearing slowly on the tiny, outdated display, before pressing send with a tap.

The phone hums in reply, but Marley’s attention has already shifted. He sets it back down on the desk, with only a light tremble, the buzzing quieting as it settles, and turns back to the task at hand.

With a well-practised motion, he picks up his pen and scribbles the date in the top corner of the page, the ink dragging slightly on the paper. His handwriting is a little messy today, but it doesn’t matter. Not yet, at least. The first starts of his daily notes take shape slowly, his thoughts still waking up alongside him, still finding their rhythm as the tea cools beside him.

In the background, he hears the tell-tale sounds of the shower turning off. The pipes creak as they stop the water flow.

His brick buzzes again, this time with a much softer vibration, and Marley’s eyes flick over to the screen. A new message pops up from Khairi. He can’t help but smile a little, even before reading it, already knowing it’s probably something simple.

He picks up the phone, the screen brightening in his hand. ‘How’s it going?’ it reads, paired with the usual smiley face Khairi tacks onto the end of nearly every message.

Marley rolls his eyes, the smile lingering as he taps out a quick reply. ‘Could be worse. Typical morning. You?’ He hesitates for a second before adding his own smiley face, something he doesn’t normally bother with.

He hits send and watches the screen for a moment, the message disappearing into the ether. It doesn’t take long before his phone buzzes again, another response lighting up the screen.

“Same old same old Xb. That old guy I I told you about last week is STILL refusing to take his meds”

‘Oh no!’ He types back, before setting his brick down sliding it to the corner of the desk. He huffs out a laugh.

The first task on Marley’s to-do list was straightforward enough—an antidote, general and simple. He’d send it off to the facility later, where they could adjust the specifics based on what they needed. They had access to far more ingredients than he did in his small workspace, but luckily, a general antidote didn’t call for anything too rare or difficult to source.

Marley glanced down at the notebook in front of him. Written neatly alongside his other scribbles were the ingredients: crushed valerian root, powdered silverleaf, a dash of wolfsbane. Not exactly precise measurements, but he never felt the need for them, not with something this familiar. His potions usually worked just fine without the exact ratios others might insist on.

He'd learned to trust his instincts with these things—there was a rhythm to potion-making that couldn't always be pinned down by numbers.

Leaning back in his chair, Marley’s eyes scanned the room. Shelves lined with jars of dried herbs, powders, and tinctures took up most of the space. It was cramped, but cosy, and everything had its place. He stood slowly, the familiar ache in his joints making itself known as he stretched and crossed the room.

His fingers trailed over the glass jars, brushing against the labels until he found what he was looking for: valerian root, dried and crushed, just as he’d need. He pulled it down and set it on the table before turning back to the shelves. Next, silverleaf, its shimmering powder catching the light as he lifted the jar down carefully. Lastly, wolfsbane, the dangerous herb tucked away on the highest shelf, just out of easy reach.

One by one, he gathered the ingredients and arranged them neatly on the table.

Across the hall, Marley heard the faint sound of movement. Emrys was up and out of the shower. The quiet creak of the floorboards gave him away, the familiar shuffling that Marley had come to associate with Emrys’ slower mornings. He paused mid-motion, the jar of wolfsbane still in his hand, listening as the footsteps grew closer.

The sound of the door opening pulled him fully from his task. He glanced over just as Emrys stepped into the doorway, rubbing his hair with a towel, still damp and curling around his forehead and the nape of his neck.

“Morning,” Emrys mumbled, voice rough and deep as it tended to be in the morning. He leaned against the doorframe, blinking at Marley with a half-awake smile.

Marley couldn’t help but smile back, setting the jar down on the table. “Morning,” he replied, his voice soft, the calm of the room lingering in the air between them.

Emrys glanced at the ingredients scattered across the desk, the faint scent of herbs drifting toward him. “Up again this early?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “I’ve said this before- but I’m pretty sure your shift starts at 9:00, not 7:30.”

Marley shrugged, turning back to his work. “It’s not that early.” he said, though the light filtering in through the window said otherwise. “Besides, I truly think you’re the only person who cares about that. So long as I get my work done, no?”

Emrys just chuckled softly, stepping fully into the room, his gaze drifting over the jars and scattered ingredients. “What’re you working on this time?” he asked, voice curious. He leaned casually against the edge of the table, careful not to disturb anything but close enough that Marley could feel his presence, warm and familiar, at his side.

He swayed, and leaned into Emrys' side. Emrys didn’t comment on it.

“Just a general antidote, It's the first thing on my to-do list,” Marley replied, not looking up from the small vial he was carefully filling with powdered silverleaf. “Nothing complicated. I’ll send it off to the facility later for the specifics. They’ve got access to more ingredients than I do here, so they’ll tweak it as needed.” He paused for a moment, glancing sideways at Emrys, who was now staring with mild interest at the collection of herbs on the table. “Shouldn’t take long, though.”

Emrys nodded, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “Still, you’re up early for it.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “I don’t know how you do it. I’ve barely managed to drag myself out of bed.”

Marley smiled softly. “It’s just part of my routine, you know that Em.” He capped the vial and set it aside, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “Besides, if I don’t get an early start, the day’s already gone before I’ve even had a chance to do anything.”

Emrys tilted his head, considering that for a moment. “I wish my students had that kind of focus,” he said with a tired laugh. “I swear, half of them don’t know a basic charm from a hex. It’s like I’m teaching first years again. I keep thinking I’ve lost my touch or something.”

Marley smiled at the thought, amused by Emrys’ familiar frustration with his students. It was always the same—Emrys would complain about them, but there was a fondness underneath it all, a clear passion for his work that never quite went away. It was one of the things Marley admired most about him, that drive to teach and to help, even when it got under his skin. It reminded him of–

“They’re in good hands,” Marley reassures, glancing up briefly. “You’ll knock some sense into them eventually.”

Emrys huffed a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “I sure hope so.”

There was a beat of silence between them before Marley suddenly remembered. “Oh, by the way,” he said, turning back toward Emrys, “I made you lunch. It’s in the fridge. Put it together last night before I went to bed.”

He continues, a blush forming at the base of his neck. “I- Uh, realised you never had time to do it yourself.”

Emrys blinked, his expression softening even further. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Marley.”

Marley shrugged, trying to play it off casually, but the warmth in his chest grew a little stronger. “No big deal,” he muttered, his heart stuttering slightly as he caught the look in Emrys’ eyes—a mix of gratitude and something deeper. Marley's heart swells painfully.

“Still,” Emrys said, stepping back toward the door, “I appreciate it. You’re too good to me.”

Marley’s smile lingered as Emrys turned to leave, and he couldn’t help but think that if it meant seeing that look again, he’d make lunch for Emrys every day.

Emrys glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. “I should get going,” he said, pushing off from the table and stretching his arms above his head. “Can’t be late for class again. The headmaster’s already on my case.” He flashed Marley a grin, the kind that always seemed to ease the tension from the room.

Marley nodded. “Try not to give them too much of a hard time,” he teased, his voice light, soft.

Emrys chuckled. “No promises,” he replied, heading toward the door. He paused, hand on the doorknob, and looked back at Marley. “Thanks again for the lunch. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marley said, offering a small smile. “Have a good day.”

With that, Emrys was out the door, the sound of his footsteps fading as he left the office, heading to the kitchen. Marley stood still for a moment, just listening to the quiet sounds of Emrys bustling around as he got ready for work.

He stared down at his desk, the potion ingredients scattered before him.

Marley let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still fixed on the scattered ingredients across his desk. The room was quiet again, the warmth of Emrys' presence fading with every passing second. He reached for the jar of valerian root but paused, fingers hovering above the glass as something heavy settled in his chest.

An ache—familiar, persistent—crept in. It wasn’t sharp, nor was it something he could easily name. Just... there. A quiet, dull throb that had nothing to do with his magic or the strain of work. It had settled deep, right under his skin, like a bruise that wouldn’t quite heal.

He rubbed at his wrist absentmindedly, trying to shake the feeling off, but it clung to him stubbornly. Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was just the way Emrys had smiled at him before heading out. The way his heart had skipped, quick and traitorous, in response.

Shaking his head, Marley leaned back in his chair, the sigh still lingering on his lips. It wasn’t something he could fix with herbs or potions, something he could brew away. The ache remained, as constant as the ticking clock in the corner, a reminder of something just out of reach.

Marley took a deep breath, shaking off the lingering ache as he focused back on his work. He tapped out a brief message to Khairi, responding to her earlier sent rant about her patient. He hit send, watching the message disappear, feeling a flicker of something unsettled.

Turning to his desk, he began reshuffling the papers, sorting them into neat piles with methodical movements. The task was calming, though it did little to dispel the heaviness in his chest. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of the ache—just that it lingered, persistent and nagging.

Once the desk was organised, he reached for his tea, its warmth a small comfort against the quiet chill that had settled around him. He took a slow sip, frowned. He set the cup down, the brief respite from the ache slipping away. So often, like this.