Title: An Awful Thing Chapter 12: Summonses and Assurances

By: Jedishampoo (Jedishampoo at aol dot com)

Rating: PG-13 overall

Summary: Howl and Sophie get mixed up in magical and dimensional doings, and Howl is the one who's just mixed up. Humor/Adventure/Romance thingie. Crossover between Howl's Moving Castle and Terry Pratchett's Discworld.

Author's Notes: This is movieverse!Howl and company. I've read the books by Diana Wynne Jones, and so a little bookishness may creep in here and there, but the movie is what made me fall in love with the characters. Comments, constructive criticism eagerly welcomed.

So I lied last time. I had to make some adjustments to the story and this is actually the last chapter. I wanted to do everything from here on out in Sophie's POV since I started out in Howl's, and once the 'adventure' was over there was only the romantic stuff to be taken care of. Still firmly in PG-13 land.

xxx

Chapter 12: Summonses and Assurances

Sophie awoke, stretched, then snuggled back into the pillow. The gold-tasseled pillow. Her eyes flew open. The light in the room was wrong. It wasn't a misty, cheerful, morning sort of light, but a darkish, afternoon thunderstorm-y sort of light. And it wasn't her room, it was Howl's. She was in Howl's bed.

A little zing of nervous embarrassment fled through her body, and she sat up. Yes, she was definitely in Howl's bed. But there was no Howl.

Sophie peeked around the room with careful deliberation to make sure he wasn't hiding somewhere among the junk, watching. But she was alone. The only eye looking at her was that eerie blinky thing on the back of his bedroom door.

She remembered coming in here, and sitting down, but not falling asleep. She jumped out of the bed and opened the door. All was dark and quiet in the hallway. The bathroom door stood open and there was a distinct lack of perfumed steam, so she could safely deduce that Howl wasn't in there, either.

The kitchen was empty except for Calcifer, making crackling little snore-noises in the grate.

"Calcifer!" Sophie whispered, then felt foolish for doing so in what was obviously late afternoon. She cleared her throat. "Where's Howl?"

"Out," Calcifer told her, yellow demon-eyes popping open.

"Out? You're kidding." Sophie could hardly believe it. The jerk. She checked the dial. Blue. So he was somewhere in the Waste. A pattering on the windows told her it was raining there.

"Don't tell me you're surprised that Howl's gone out," Calcifer said in a wry tone.

"Hmph," Sophie replied. She grabbed the kettle from where it had been left on the table last night-- this morning-- filled it, then flung it onto the grate. "Gone out. Hmph."

"He didn't seem happy," Calcifer offered in a helpful tone.

"So?"

"So, he was whining about being the only one who cared. I don't know what he was talking about, but that's nothing new."

"Huh." Now Sophie was curious. "That's odd. I thought he'd be happy-- well, when did you finish your magic-making?"

"Oh, a few hours ago. Just before Howl left, I think."

"Oh." Sophie thought hard. Howl had been concentrating very intensely when she'd whispered her idea to him. Perhaps he hadn't heard? She'd gone up early because she'd wanted a chance to freshen herself up for-- well-- and Howl had only said "okay." But had it been a distracted "okay" or a paying-attention "okay?"

A little effort from Calcifer set the water in the kettle to boiling. Sophie dropped in some tea and sat down to wait for it to brew. She was restless. She got up again and fetched clean cups in case Granny or Markl awoke soon. Someone had done all the dishes from the day before, so there really wasn't anything else to do. She wasn't sure she was in the mood to clean, but she was in the mood to do something.

Something came in the form of a series of little raps upon the door. Sophie jumped up from her seat and checked to be sure her robe was fastened properly. It must be a customer; Howl wouldn't bother knocking.

"It's the Kingsbury door," Calcifer told her with a yawn.

Sophie opened the door and gaped, then scowled. A trim pre-adolescent dressed in a green-and-pink uniform and sporting perfectly-groomed blonde hair grinned up at her from the doorstep. It was one of Madame Suliman's little lackeys. His white-gloved hand held out a folded piece of paper sealed with blood-red wax.

"You! What do you want?" Sophie asked. She knew she was being rude, but she didn't care.

"Good afternoon, ma'am!" the boy said with a perky white-toothed smile. "I have a summons from Her Eminence, Madame Suliman."

A summons? Not in this lifetime. Sophie scowled harder and crossed her arms across her midriff. "I'm sorry-- well actually I'm not-- but please remind Her Eminence that I said yesterday that Howl was to answer no more of her summonses, and I meant it."

"Oh, no, ma'am. The summons is for Mrs. Pendragon. You, I believe?"

"I am not Mrs. Pendragon. I am Miss Hatter." Sophie tossed her head, wishing her hair was still long so as to be more dramatic in these types of situations.

"She said you'd say that, ma'am." If possible, the boy's grin had only grown more cheeky. It set Sophie's teeth on edge. "But it is for you."

"Well, I don't want it, either."

"She said you'd say that, too." The boy waved the paper at her. "And in that case, I was to simply give this to you. She said you'd want it, whether you came or not."

Sophie wasn't so sure, but she swiped it from his white-gloved hand anyway, and tucked it under her arm. If she refused it, she'd wonder for weeks what had been in it. "Fine. Thank you. Goodbye!"

"Thank you, ma'am!" the boy said, gave her a perky bow, then bounced off.

"Grrr," Sophie said. She wondered briefly whether or not she should have Howl take a look at the letter, check it for magic, before she opened it. Then she shrugged. It was addressed to her, sort of. And at least she now had something to do other than wonder about Howl and where he was and why he was being such an ass. She sat down again and used her fingernail to open the seal.

It was a very short note, in curlicued handwriting. "Tell Howl thank you," it read, and was signed Mme. B. Suliman. There was a postscript. Sophie read it, and laughed.

"What is it?" Calcifer wanted to know.

"Actually, it is rather funny, in an awful way," Sophie said.

"What?"

Sophie only laughed again, and went upstairs to get dressed.

Outside, the heavy skies had greyed and blurred their verdant little corner of the Wastes. All the flowers were drooping their heads under the weight of the rain, their colors muted and subtle. Sophie wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself and angled her umbrella to keep the fat raindrops from splashing on her face. Howl had to be out there somewhere, she knew.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of tromping in the boot-sucking mud, she spotted him. He was stretched out under a tree, one of the wide, spreading shade trees they'd added to the valley at her request. The toes of his shoes pointed up, and one blue-sleeved arm was draped across his eyes. He hadn't even bothered to change before he'd gone out into the rain to sulk. Sophie knew he must be in a very bad mood.

She stood over his tragic, supine form for a few moments before she spoke.

"Was your magic not successful, Howl?"

Howl mumbled something indecipherable in reply.

"What?" Sophie asked.

"I said, 'does it matter?'" Howl told her. He hadn't even uncovered his eyes.

Sophie sighed, and smiled to herself. At least Howl'd had the sense to put himself under a tree. She eyed the slick, grassy ground, and her muddy boots.

She shrugged. She was wearing an old dress. Dropping the umbrella, she eased herself into a stretched-out position beside Howl. Propped on one elbow-- which sank through the grass into the ground-- she stared at him. She watched the water droplets fall from the leaves above, plopping onto what was exposed of his face, then roll down his cheeks into the collar of his shirt.

After a few silent minutes of this Howl lifted his arm an inch or two to peep at her out of the corner of one eye.

"Are you trying to make me feel dumb?" he said.

"Why didn't you come upstairs?" Sophie asked in reply.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

Sophie didn't answer. She stretched out her free hand to run it along his ribs. His shirt was sopping wet. It looked good on him, though. She smoothed the wet material across his breastbone, remembering for a moment the cool, fluttery lump of Calcifer mixed with Howl's heart as she'd pressed it through his chest. Then she ran her palm down onto his flat stomach. Like he would have eaten breakfast, anyway. She felt him catch his breath, just a little.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked.

"Poor Howl," Sophie said, then pushed herself up a bit, just enough so that she could move his arm and kiss him. His lips were cool and wet. Her elbow sank another couple of inches into the mud.

Howl kissed her back for a moment or two, then used gentle fingers to pry his wrist free. He sat up and looked at her with confused blue eyes. A fat, cold raindrop splashed into her eye, making her wince. Howl grabbed her umbrella and shoved the handle into the ground, propping it over her face like a shield, then plopped back down with a little splash.

"Poor Howl is right," he said, in a long-suffering tone. "Everyone left me."

"I was in your room," Sophie informed him. "I fell asleep, though. I didn't mean to."

"Blue sparkly fire didn't work, then," Howl said in a forlorn sort of voice.

Sophie thought she knew what he meant, but was determined to make him wait a few more minutes before she solved everything for him. He rather deserved it. But it was cold, and muddy. So she crawled over to snuggle on top of him. Two sets of wet clothes didn't create much warmth, and zero dryness, but he was much more comfortable than the ground. She kissed his wet lips again. That was better.

"Sophie!" Howl said after a few minutes. "You've been acting very strangely lately."

She was sure she had. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked his jeweled earlobe.

"No," he said with a cough. "But it won't matter. Someone or something will come along any moment, I'm sure."

"Nope. We're alone out here," Sophie said to his nose. She shifted her body, adjusting to a more comfortable position splayed out atop him. Some very interesting things were happening along in there. And she was very definitely warmer.

"Then the ground will open up and swallow us or something. I've seen that happen."

"I was there," Sophie told him, reaching down to run her fingers up under the edge of his shirt, feeling the warm, damp skin of his stomach. Howl caught his breath again, and there were some more of those interesting sensations down below. Sophie felt very wanton, and very powerful in a womanly sort of way. She decided to end his suffering. "I got a note from Madame Suliman. Do you want to know what it said?"

"Suliman," Howl sighed. "Not really."

Sophie slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "It said, 'subtle paranoia curse, in case you were wondering.' Her words, not mine."

Howl didn't reply for a few moments, just moved his lips silently. Then he whistled softly and gave her a wry half-grin. "Basic spell. Nasty, though. Even when it's gone, you're never sure that it is." But he looked infinitely more cheerful than he had only a minute ago. Sophie felt rather ashamed of herself for teasing him. Slightly ashamed.

"Interesting how it manifested itself for you," she told him, kissing his chin. "Want to see if it's really gone?"

Sophie felt his warm hands on her waist, and saw his expression grow quite interested. But after a moment or two, caution crawled into his eyes. "Not here. It's sort of cold, wet, and--" here he lifted a blue and brown-splattered arm, "--muddy. It would be very unfair of me."

"I think it's rather romantic," Sophie told him. In addition to feeling wanton and powerful she felt very foolish, and yet very free from all her former insecurity. It was a heady combination. Love was an awful sort of emotion; it was every other feeling wrapped into one at once. Some of those feelings hurt, and some were euphoric, but love at its best always felt like it was worth all of the worst.

"And here I thought you were practical," Howl said, a naughty grin curling across his lips, and an expression that was becoming more and more interested by the moment. "So don't blame me, later."

"I won't."

………

Later, Sophie couldn't say that it hadn't hurt a little, and that it hadn't perhaps been a bit more gooey than it should have been, what with the mud and all, or that she hadn't had to soak in a hot bath for an hour to rid herself of the dirt and aches. But she could say that they hadn't been interrupted, and she'd enjoyed herself in a very romantic and womanly manner.

And she also could say that the next time her mother or sister asked her those pointed questions about getting married, Sophie thought she might have an answer for them. All in all, it seemed, in the end that assurance was much better at making Howl happy than gaudy gifts and civic responsibility.

Men were very simple creatures.

xxx

THE END.

I ultimately decided against explicitness for this story, really, lemon's not right for these characters, is it:) Thanks to everyone for sticking it through, especially to my beta sharpeslass, who is not an HMC fanatic like myself. She begged for the ellipses at the end there, though I was loath to insert them.

If you've read this far, please comment, tell me what you thought, good or bad!

Disclaimer: HMC characters owned by Diana Wynne Jones and/or Studio Ghibli; Discworld characters owned by Terry Pratchett. I made no money writing this; it is purely for fun.