A few days had passed and Agatha felt more and more comfortable with you. It would be hard not to feel, now that you stayed together all the time, whether playing in the garden, reading in the library or finding out new things about each other.

You had discovered that it was much easier to reach a book on the top shelf when you had a witch to float it up to your hands.

And Agatha had rediscovered what it was like to be a dreamer again, not exactly because she had become one once more but because it was lovely to hear you talk about your dreams. Dreams about travelling the world to see what existed beyond life in the countryside.

Agatha wanted with all her heart to be able to take you there, but she was as trapped as you in that castle. She had been even before she was cursed. That was when she mentioned that the maximum freedom she had ever tasted was at balls, when different people visited the castle and shared their experiences.

"And why don't we have a ball, then? Just us?" It was a shy suggestion from you. You had never been to a ball before but heard that they were majestic, and now it would be your chance to experience one and bring some of her happy memories back to her.

"This is a very bad idea," was what Agatha wanted to say. Dance with you? She barely remembered how to dance in the first place.

"It's a splendid idea, sweetheart," was what she said instead, placing a strand of hair that was loose in front of your face behind your ear, to better see your cheeks flush. It would never get old, the way you would bite your lip with a shy smile, lowering your gaze.

Yeah, she would never deny you anything.

And that was how she ended up in that situation, wearing her robe after a bath, trying to choose what to wear. It wasn't that she didn't have several dresses, but none of them... felt right.

"What about that one?" Jimmy pointed to a purple dress, "that one is pretty."

"Indeed," Agatha nodded, "but I would like something with more fabric."

"You know that Miss Y/N has already seen your marks of black magic, right?" Wanda raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly why the witch refused to wear her dresses.

But clearly the words were not chosen carefully enough, causing Wanda to receive a choleric look.

A look that didn't last long, however. Agatha sighed. Taking out her frustration on the people who wanted to help her wasn't going to make it any easier. Besides, Wanda was right.

"I should never have accepted this crazy idea," she shook her head.

"It was actually perfect!" Jimmy insisted, "the rose only has four more petals left, so you better tell her how you feel today."

"You don't understand, look at me, she will never love me," Agatha frowned.

"You shouldn't think like that," the teapot said, "but if it's so important for you, I think I can bring you something. Vision, Jimmy, come with me, please."

Agatha didn't think much about what they would bring, focusing on her reflection in the mirror. A coat rack combed and pinned her hair while, for the first time in what felt like a millennia, she put on makeup with the help of her magic. Her indecision to choose a dress had taken a lot of time and now she needed to do everything a lot faster if she wanted to be on time.

When she was finally satisfied, the cart came through the door with blue clothes folded on top of it. Agatha tilted her head, before holding the jacket, letting out a gasp shortly thereafter.

It was her father's suit. Her eyes filled with tears.

"It's perfect," she whispered, making her servants - her friends - smile. That night would be perfect.

And Agatha was sure it would be as soon as she saw you on the other side of the stairs. You were wearing a beautiful yellow dress and the hairstyle done in your hair was perfect, your eyes shone, even more beautiful in the candlelight. You were truly stunning. Breathtaking.

And you had exactly the same opinion when you saw her. You expected her to wear a dress, but instead she wore a blue suit that made her blue eyes appear even more, specially with some makeup. Part of her hair was pinned back and her face showed an expression of pure adoration. She looked gorgeous.

The piano began to play a slow melody, pulling you both from your thoughts to go down part of the stairs, meeting in the middle, where you placed your hand on the arm that Agatha offered, before going down the rest of the steps.

When the door to the ballroom opened, none of you could believe what you were seeing.

You for never having seen such a gigantic and majestic hall.

Agatha for not knowing how she would feel when she returned to the place where her judgment had taken place. It was strange, like a dejavu of everything she had lived there: when her father taught her to dance, all the times she and the others had played tag, the annual balls, her birthdays, and then the moment of the curse.

She should have felt uncomfortable. Or at least, should have a bittersweet taste in her mouth. But as soon as you held out your hands and the other instruments entered the sweet melody, all Agatha could feel were butterflies in her stomach.

It didn't matter what had happened in that place before.

All that mattered was you.

How holding you in her arms made your pulse race.

How your dress and hair flowed while you spun around the room.

And how dancing with you seemed natural. Her feet took her exactly where she was supposed to go, as if memories guided her so she could guide you.

And you, well, you felt like you were in the clouds. Agatha's hand on your waist felt like the only thing that kept you on the ground, and as soon as you spun, you felt your mind spin along with your body.

Soon you were pressed against her body again, and although you had the impression that at that moment there were only you two in the whole world, dancing in each other's arms, from a distance the objects of the castle watched with smiles on their faces and hope in their hearts.

When one of Agatha's hands went to the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist, you let yourself go, trusting her completely as she lowered you into her arms, letting you feel her breath on your face, before getting you back up and taking you in her arms, lifting you up without any effort. You wouldn't even have to look at her purple eyes to know that she was using her magic, but you couldn't look anywhere else.

While you were dancing, no words were exchanged between you, as your eyes already said everything for the both of you.

And then the song ended, faster than you would have liked, causing you to reluctantly split up. But the night didn't have to end there. In fact, it couldn't end yet.

Agatha offered her arm to you again, which you took gracefully, following her to the balcony.

When you passed through the balcony door, the stars welcomed you along with the moon, which shone brightly, illuminating the mountains, the garden and your faces as well.

Seeing you there, smiling in the moonlight, made Agatha take a deep breath. It was time.

Don't screw things up now, Harkness.

"I suppose it's foolish... to think that you could ever have feelings for me?"

You turned around with raised eyebrows, surprised by the question. The answer was clear in your soul, but your mind still had some doubts, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Agatha could almost feel her hope growing, a feeling she thought she lost a long time ago, "could you really be happy here, with me?"

"Could anyone be happy without being free?" You replied, breaking the witch's heart a little.

You were right. She herself had never been happy being trapped in that castle, either because of its impenetrable gates or by her mother's strict rules. How could she ask you to feel any different?

"You know... my father knows how to dance, he was the one that taught me," you said, feeling the overwhelming sadness in your chest by remembering him again.

"Mine too." And I would give anything to see him again, Agatha thought. Surely you would too, "do you want to see him?"

The answer was obvious.

The enchanted mirror was in her room, next to the rose. She handed it over to you, saying you just needed to ask for it.

"I want to see my dad."

In a flash, where there was only your reflection, now showed your father, alone, clearly sick and in the dark. That place was definitely not your home.

You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth, "papa! He's sick..."

"Then go to him," Agatha murmured.

"What did you say?" You frowned, looking back at her.

"I told you to go to him, before it's too late," each word was like a dagger in the witch's heart, but she couldn't make you stay there knowing that your father was in danger. She had already accepted that she could never deny you anything, no matter much she wanted to.

You tried to give her the mirror back, but she just shook her head.

"Stay with it, so you can see me whenever you want," and how she hoped you would. That you would miss her as much as she would miss you, "now go, you're free."

You nodded quickly, "thank you, Agatha."

You trully meant it.

And then you turned around, just like the first time, leaving the broken-hearted woman behind.