Alright, I wrote this because The Secret Garden was my first favourite book, and I still believe that it's one of the most beautiful and magical childrens books ever written. So, in honor of that, I tried to capture some of the magic in this little story.

I'm not sure if I've managed to convey just how enchanting I find the book and how much I adore the characters, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyways =]

xxx

Mary wakened to the raucous but familiar sound of someone raking the cinders in her room. Slowly sitting up in her bed, she rubbed the tiredness from her eyes and turned to see where the sound was coming from.

And she almost laughed with joy at what she saw.

Sitting on the hearth rug and busily cleaning out the fireplace, was none other than Martha. Dear, sweet Martha with her round rosy face and bright smile! Mary hadn't seen the dear in nearly three years.

Martha was so absorbed in polishing the grate to perfection that she didn't notice Mary creep out of bed and tip-toe behind her. So she nearly jumped clean in the air when Mary cried, "Good morning!"

"Merciful heavens!"

Martha whirled around, clutching the rag she'd been using to her heart, and saw Mary nearly doubled over with laughter. Being a good natured woman, Martha joined her, and then exclaimed with a smile, "Miss Mary, tha'rt a sight for sore eyes indeed. I didna know you were back yet! My, tha's bloomed pretty as a rose in the summertime. Tha'rt sixteen now, yes?"

"I am."

Mary couldn't help but blush at how Martha was looking at her. Her eyes were wide with wonder and admiration, which was a far cry from the amused looks she used to shoot at her. With a jolt, Mary also realized that she'd grown just the same height as her old maid. Surely she hadn't been away that long…

Martha, who'd gone back to shining up the grate, didn't notice Mary's amazement. "So, Miss Mary. Dids't tha like London? Meser Colin's done nothin' but rave 'bout it non stop since he got here last week."

When Mary remained silent, Martha looked up at her inquiringly. "Tha'rt upset about something." It wasn't a question.

Mary sighed. She'd forgotten the knack the Sowerby's had of hearing all the thoughts in her head without her saying them. "I'm not upset, Martha. Truly I'm not. I just really missed the moor."

"And thy garden?"

Mary nodded her agreement, "Especially my garden."

A small grin appeared on Martha's face, "Well then, tha'd best be goin' to visit it as soon as possible."

Reading the sparkle in her dear friend's eyes, Mary gasped, "You want me to go there now?"

Martha gave her a small nod, "If tha hurries, you will'na miss breakfast."

With a smile, Mary threw her arms around Martha in a big hug of thanks, changed into a proper dress, her stocking and shoes, and took of running to the place she knew, was the most magical in the world.

xxx

Her breath caught in her throat as Mary lifted the curtain of ivy from the secret door. She felt as though the world was silent, as though the birds had stopped chirping and the squirrels had stopped their scurrying to watch as she and her garden were reunited.

Silly as that sounded, Mary couldn't help but believe it, so she took her time reaching for the door's handle.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet smells of the moor in the summer. Heather, wildflowers and a waft of roses from within the garden, mixed with the clean, crisp, fresh air of the moor itself assaulted her senses. She was home.

Taking one last breath of the moor air, she opened the door to her paradise and walked in.

It took her only a few moments to reacquaint herself with the sweeping walkways, the veils of hanging roses and the thick carpet of wildflowers which brushed her ankles. Then, she began to feel as comfortable as if she'd never left.

This was where she belonged. Here with all of the flowers she'd spent countless hours planting and caring for. Because when you were kind to flowers, they were kind to you. When you poured your heart out to them, they didn't turn on you, tell the entire boarding school about your deepest secrets, and then laugh at you as the other girls mocked your acquired Yorkshire accent and preference of plants over most people…

Mary shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. She was home now, and she should only focus on the nice parts of her two year stay at 'Miss. Merryweather's Finishing School for Girls'. After all, she had made some real friends there. They would never be as close to her as her friends at Misselthwaite, but they had been nice and included her.

Just then, Mary noticed something amiss in her paradise; a weed. A tall, defiant, obtrusive weed.

With a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, Mary bent down and carefully pulled it up, roots and all. And just like that, her mind – the mind which had spent the last two years learning how to make proper conversation, play music, cram history, French, Latin, literature and arithmetic- reverted back to the way it had been before she left. She remembered exactly what needed to be done to make the garden happy, and she started doing it, basking in the feel of sweet smelling black earth under her fingers. She'd been at it for about a quarter of an hour, when she heard a soft whistling coming from behind her.

Straining her ears, Mary recognized the whistling as a gay Yorkshire tune, and by the sound of it, the whistler was walking briskly along the long path to the garden.

Wishing with all her heart that the whistler was whom she thought it was, Mary turned around and waited for the door to open. It did, and in walked her favourite person in the whole world. "Dickon!"

He hadn't changed the least bit since she'd last seen him; he still wore a loose white shirt with rolled up sleeves hiding patches at the elbows and he had a robin perched on his shoulder. His nose still turned up in a way that Mary loved, his hair was still a tangle of rust coloured curls, and even after all of her lessons on fine English literature, Mary could only describe his eyes as she had when she was ten; sparkling, round pieces of the sky.

For a moment, he looked completely taken aback at the sight of her; clearly no one had told him that she'd come back from London a week earlier than expected. Then a wide grin broke out on his face, "Why Miss Mary, tha'rt the prettiest flower in the garden."

And then Mary could no longer contain herself. She took off running towards him, quite scaring his robin away, and threw her arms around his neck, "Oh Dickon, I've missed you!"

He merely laughed as he hugged her back, "And I've missed thee, Miss Mary. I've missed thee. I had a right pretty time tryin' to maintain this garden by myself, so it'll be somethin' wonderful to have your help again."

Releasing him of her vice grip, Mary stepped back and gave him a grateful smile. She knew as well as he did that he'd had no trouble whatsoever maintaining the garden alone. But she was sure that he knew how much she'd missed gardening, and was allowing her to help.

So, the two of them walked together over to where the garden tools were, and prattled away as they had when they were young.

"I'm sorry for scaring away your robin, Dickon."

"My robin? Eh, dost tha not recognize her?" His eyes gleamed with mischief and Mary knit her eyebrows in confusion. "No, I…oh! You can't mean…"

Dickon nodded the affirmative. "I do. She's the young un o' Ben Weatherstaff's robin. The one tha watched hatch."

Mary's eyes went wide in wonder as she picked up her old gardening fork and started to help her plants breathe. "But, she was such a tiny thing when I left! She sure did grow fast."

"She sure did" Dickon agreed, but his eyes were on Mary. "Seems only yesterday she was learnin' to fly, and now she's out looking for a new mate. She's an awful picky chooser too."

Even after all these years, Mary couldn't help but feel that Dickon must be some sort of woodland fairy. He knew more about nature than any of the well known botanists she'd met in London, and he really and truly could communicate with all animals. "Where did she go now?" Mary asked with hushed breath.

"I reckon she's just gone to fetch a nice worm for breakfast. Speakin' o' which, shouldn't tha be headed off for thy own victuals?"

"I think I'll stay just a bit longer." Mary said, clearing some weeds from around a bed of lilies.

Dickon grinned at her obvious reluctance to leave her garden. He was about to mention this, when he heard the flutter of two pairs of wings and saw not one, but two streaks of red fly to the top of a tall tree nearby.

Mary noticed it too, and she looked like she was going to say something, so Dickon stopped her. "Hush Miss Mary", he said in a voice so quiet that she could hardly hear him. "Thy robin's got herself a mate, and they're checkin' if this place is safe enough for them to make their nest. We munnot stay this close."

He put his warm hand on her arm, and gently pulled her back away from the tree with him. They crept so slowly that Mary hardly felt they were moving, but eventually they were far enough from the robin, and well enough covered by the shade of the rose bushes that Dickon stopped. "Now we mun keep as still as the trees."

Mary began to feel awfully self conscious as she crouched on her hands and knees next to Dickon. He was so close to her that his warm forearm was lightly brushing hers, and one of his curls was tickling her ear. She didn't think that she'd ever been this close to a man, for at eighteen Dickon was, indeed, a man. Somehow, this fact had only just occurred to Mary, and she wondered idly what the prim girls at her school would have said if they saw her with him now. She blushed.

Dickon didn't seem to notice this, though, he was far to busy concentrating on the robins. Without actually staring at them, he watched them as closely as possible.

Mary, who knew that if she dared a glance up at the birds she'd probably scare them, chose to look at Dickon instead. He looked so innocent, gentle and perfect crouching there beside her, without a single bad thought in that curly head of his. He was nothing like the prissy gentlemen Mary's school friends had gushed over, and she was glad. So, without really deciding to do it, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his cheek.

Unlike most gentlemen, he didn't blush, turn his face to capture her lips with his, or make a declaration of love to her. Instead, he closed his blue eyes, and breathed deeply, as if basking in the feel of the moment. And Mary instantly felt that that was just how she would have wanted him to react, if she could choose.

Leaning back, she removed her lips from his face and smiled at him. He grinned back. Then they both heard the twittering of busy robins, and looked up to see that their feathered friends had decided to start building their nest in the tree after all.

So, Dickon stood up slowly, so as not to alarm the birds, and Mary followed him. Then he turned to her and said in a voice which was only slightly quieter than normal, "Tha'rt as sweet as a moorland pony, tha'rt."

Mary was rather taken aback. She'd just kissed him and he was comparing her to a horse. She hadn't exactly expected him to do anything conventional, but really, a horse?

Sensing her confusion, Dickon laughed, "Dost tha remember Jump, my pony?"

Mary nodded wordlessly, and he continued, "Well, and you will'na believe this, once, on a misty day, Jump got lost out on the moor an' he was out there for 'bout a week a' fore I found him. The poor lad was frightened as a baby lamb out there, and twice as helpless. An' after I found 'im an took 'im back home, dost tha know what he did?"

Mary shook her head, no, and Dickon grinned, "He gave me a kiss on the cheek same as you!" Dickon said with a hearty laugh.

Mary couldn't help but laugh as well, though she was sighing on the inside. Trust her to start falling for the only boy in the world who didn't see the difference between being kissed by a girl and being kissed by a horse.

Just then, the grand Manor's clock struck eight, and Mary realized that she would be very late for breakfast if she didn't leave immediately. Dickon knew this too, so he said, "I'd get movin' if I were thee. Dinna worry, I'll be here when tha get's back."

So, Mary bid him goodbye, and as she ran back to the Manor she felt lighter hearted than she had in over two years.

xxx

So, I hoped you enjoyed it, and thanks for takin' the time to read =]