Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch.

A/N: I have so many feels about the finale ... ugh ... feel free to hit me up on PM here or over on tumblr: laceandpaperflowers91 if y'all want to discuss. :)

Anyway, this came to me yesterday evening, and I just had to write it. Title comes from the song 'Let It Go' from a little-known film called 'Frozen'. :P

One Thought Crystallizes Like An Icy Blast

She hasn't told her that she's coming, but the steaming pot of fresh tea — kept warm by magic — and two cups, as well as the plate of gingersnap biscuits, suggests that the woman already knew of her impending arrival. Probably before she has even made the decision to come here.

It shouldn't be overly surprising really. After all, Pippa Pentangle has always known her better than she can ever know herself.

Speaking of Pippa Pentangle, the blonde is sat on the sofa of her study, ankles delicately crossed together, her open-toed shoes showing off the pedicure which matches her fingernails perfectly. As the door slowly opens, Pippa tentatively bites down on her lip, takes a deep breath, readies herself for what she may face.

Brown eyes meet brown, and she immediately quashes all the instincts that are screaming out at her to rush over to the dark-haired witch, to wrap her in the biggest, warmest hug, to never let her go.

Hecate just stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, suddenly feeling ridiculously self-conscious. Even more so than usual! She's about to turn on her heel and run, to transfer back to Cackle's before the blonde has a chance to start — let alone finish — the traditional greeting of the Craft, when she stops, reminds herself of why she came here in the first place.

All evening long, there has been a feeling that she can't quite pinpoint, but it's something that presses down on her chest, making her feel utterly terrified, leaving her ten times colder than the ice that has encased her only mere hours before. It's this same feeling that leads her to slip away from the school as the celebratory festivities wind down to a close, grabbing her broomstick and taking off into the night without a real clue where she is going.

Except that's a lie.

Somehow, she knows exactly where she is going.

She's not sure how long they sit in silence.

It feels like hours, yet in reality it has barely been minutes.

Minutes before the stresses and emotions and fears of the day finally become too much, quickly overpowering her anxiety and her delicate state of mind. Minutes until she can feel sting of the hot, salty tears that are rapidly building up in the backs of her eyes. Seconds before they fall.

Pippa says nothing. Carefully puts an arm around her. Holds her as she sobs.

Later on, with her tears dried, feeling emotionally wrung out and extremely embarrassed, she fills her in on the events of the day, and the blonde doesn't miss the slight lilt of self-satisfaction at the proclamation that she was right about Marigold Mould all along! Hecate tells of how Ethel Hallow proposed to give up her powers, and how only a mere millisecond before, she could hear her own voice speaking, saying that if someone must give up their magic to fix this, then that witch would be herself.

In the moment of the decision, she never gave it a second thought, not the slightest hesitation, her only goal to protect the students and the school; to save them from any more damage than has already been inflicted upon them all. But now, now she wonders what would have happened had she actually gone through with it, ponders what she would have become.

"All I have is my magic. All that I am is my magic, Pipsqueak. What do I have without that?"

Pippa supports, listens without judgement, internally sighs, utterly dumbfounded at how Hecate has never been able to see what everyone else can. Gently, she takes Hecate's frozen hands in her own, warming them with her own unique brand of Pentangle. "Oh, darling: you've got your brains, your heart, your courage." She rhymes off the qualities, watches as Hecate's eyes grow more and more incredulous, as though the deputy headmistress doesn't believe a word of it. Remaining undeterred though, she carries on.

"Your looks."

At this, the Hardbroom actually snorts, finding the idea of her and beauty together in the same sentence to be an utterly absurd notion. Not her ... never the tall, gangly one.

"And Me," Pippa finishes off, quietly. "You've always got me."

'Even when you weren't speaking to me, you still had me.'

She's heard the rumours of what happened to Hecate after they lost touch. The hushed whispers that still circulate around the witching community, and even thinking about them now sends a ferocious anger and pain soaring straight through her. She knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that had Hecate came to her then, estranged or not, she would have been there in a heartbeat.

She's come to her now though.

And that surely has to count for something.

There's something else too.

She can tell. Has always been able to tell when it comes to Hecate Hardbroom. The tall witch might be able to fool most, but not her. Even with all those missed and lost years between them, it pleases Pippa that she still knows her friend best of all.

"You know you can tell me anything, Hiccup?"

Hecate slowly looks down at their clasped hands, opens her mouth to speak, and then stops, tries to find the right words to convey what she so desperately wants to say. Pippa waits, doesn't prod, doesn't push, she just waits.

"When we were trapped in the potions lab, watching the ice set in over the whole school, knowing that it was only a matter of time before ..." she swallows, not caring to relive the ordeal any more vividly than she has to. "All I could think about was you ... and the thought that I might never see you again. And that you would never," she breaks off, completely overwhelmed, closes her eyes and exhales, another tear escaping in perfect synchronisation with her breath.

"I made myself a promise. A vow. That if by some miracle, I got out of there alive, then I would stop hiding. I would finally tell you that-well, what I mean to say is-"

Where words uncharacteristically fail her, actions prevail. Her shaking hands cup Pippa's face, a long, black nail gently brushing away a loose, blonde curl, and then she kisses her.

And Pippa kisses her back.

It warms her in the same way as whenever Pippa smiles at her, or their evenings spent playing chess, or their weekly chats via mirror. It warms her in a way that melts the icy chill she has yet to shift from her body, turning it to a slushy nothing with barely brushing fingers.

To lose her magic would be to lose a limb, but to lose Pippa, to lose her Pipsqueak, would be to lose a piece of her heart. The piece that makes her better, the piece that makes her want to try harder.

The need for air is the only thing that splits them, and they reluctantly break apart, foreheads resting against one another, each woman breathing heavy, their eyes dazed, smiling and giddy like lovesick teenagers.

"You've got no idea how long I have wanted to do that," Pippa whispers, nuzzling against the neck of her hopefully soon-to-be-girlfriend.

Hecate bites down on her lip, fearful that she's somehow overstepped the mark, despite the blonde's reassuring words, still unable to shake the ingrained reservations that are so inbuilt into her character.

"Really?" she asks, searches the brown eyes for any signs of doubt, mockery, finds none.

Pippa nods. "Magic or no magic, Hiccup, you do, and will always, bewitch me," she says, with complete honesty. Playfully, she bops Hecate on the tip of her nose, as if to reinforce her point, before she kisses that same spot, and then hungrily catches her lips again.