Howl's Moving Castle Fanfiction: An Awful Thing Chapter 2 by Jedishampoo

Summary: Howl and Sophie get mixed up in magical and dimensional doings. 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.

***

An Awful Thing Chapter 2

Sophie shifted her bottom and stretched her legs, trying to make herself comfortable in the Ankh-Morpork City Watch wagon as it carried them to the Watch headquarters in Pseudopolis Yard, wherever that was. But it was difficult to find a position that didn’t make her teeth rattle. The wagon bounced and jerked as it rolled along the cobblestones, and her side still ached from running into their captor.

The interior was dim but Sophie could see Howl, sitting somewhat across from her on the hay-littered floor of the wagon. His arms were crossed against his chest and he was gritting his teeth.

"I could get us out of here, if it wasn’t for the troll," Howl told her for the third time.

"I know you could." Sophie sighed and looked at her bound wrist. A chain fastened to the band around it ran through a window-slit in the side of the wagon. The other end was fastened to Sergeant Detritus, the troll in question, who stomp-jogged alongside the wagon. The watchmen had quickly deduced Howl’s weakness-- Sophie-- and taken steps to be sure their sorcerous prisoner didn’t escape. The enormous sergeant peeped a black eye through the opening now and then to make sure Howl wasn’t trying anything wizardly.

One of the wagon wheels dipped into a particularly nasty rut. The wagon jerked and went airborne for a second, and then all four wheels slammed onto the cobblestones. Sophie flew into the air and crashed as well, sending her legs all askew and twisting her arm against the window. "Ow!" she said, trying to right herself.

Howl crawled over to help. "Are you all right?" he asked as he twisted on the chain at her wrist, trying to disentangle her. He examined it for a few moments, blue eyes dark and intent in the dimness of the vehicle. "I bet I could get this-- ah!" He sneezed. The contents of the floor had gone flying along with everything else in the cart, and a thin layer of dust and hay was floating down upon them.

Sophie sneezed as well.

"Hey, you in dere! Sit down! I’s watching you!"

"Is it okay if I see to my girl?" Howl said in a smarmy voice.

The hole in the wall was silent for a couple of moments. Then the sergeant said, in a less rocky tone than before, "I don’ want the lady ta git hurt, Mister. But I can’t has you escapin’."

Howl sneezed again, and bits of hay shook down from his hair onto his face and into the neck of his blue shirt. "Rrrrrrr," he growled, and swiped at his face. Her vain Howl hated to be dirty.

"I’m all right now," Sophie called through the hole.

Howl plopped back down onto the floor and crossed his arms again with a huffy gesture. "Mud puddle," he said, and sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing," Howl said. His perpetually-smiling mouth was curled into a snarl.

Sophie wanted to laugh at the nonsensical statement, and at his petulant expression, but didn’t. She could see Howl was working himself into a real snit. He’d work himself out of it soon enough.

She herself wasn’t even angry anymore. A little sore, but not angry. Despite being arrested, she was having an adventure. She’d have thought that being turned into an old lady and back and fooling around with missing hearts and fire demons would have been adventure enough for any quiet girl, but apparently that wasn’t so.

No, the anger she’d felt at what she’d overheard was gone. Men were mostly idiots and that’s all there was to it. Howl was perhaps smarter and more of a challenge than most, but she’d known that when she’d fallen head over boots in love with him. She’d been through too much on his behalf to ever not hopelessly adore him.

And the girly, besotted part of Sophie thought he looked really tempting with his hair all mussed and hay sticking out of it and his lower lip jutting out. All those back alleys, she thought dreamily. Some of that dreaminess must have come out in the grin she directed at him. Howl glanced at her and then resolutely turned away, but she saw the corner of his lip quirk up in a smile.

The Sophie she’d been earlier today would have gotten all flustered at that. But the Sophie she’d been earlier today seemed like ancient history, the nice Sophie who hadn’t known what she wanted. This Sophie wanted Howl. And she wasn’t going to give him up, not to any number of tramps.

The sounds of running feet and clanking metal began to filter through the slats of the wagon sides. The rocking motion stopped with a jerk, and a few seconds later that little Corporal Nobbs opened the back door.

"You come with me," he told Howl, watching him with a wary eye. "Sergeant Detritus will take care of the lady. Don’t try nothin’."

Howl scooted out and shook his clothes out with a grimace, but watched carefully as the Sergeant unhooked Sophie from her shackle. Soon they both stood in a stone-walled courtyard, surrounded by-- Sophie couldn’t call them all men, because they weren’t-- beings, perhaps-- of all shapes and sizes. All of them wore those metal breastplates and helmets. Many were staring at Howl and Sophie and their captors. Sophie gawked right back at them. Some of the watchmen looked like dwarves. One of them wore a leather skirt and lipstick, so it seemed there were watchwomen dwarves as well. Sophie was impressed.

There was also a giant man made of clay, and what looked like a gargoyle, and was that an orange ape coming through the gate? In Ingary, people that looked like that had probably been bespelled, and they tended to go off and hide in the Wastes. Like she had. Here, they all worked together.

Sergeant Detritus nudged her in the back with his giant rocky fist, but gently. Sophie stopped staring like a yokel and walked.

They were led inside an old wood-and-stone building and up a stairway that barely accommodated the giant Sergeant Detritus, and soon they stood in an ordinary-looking office. A man stared at them dolefully from behind a pile of papers on a desk. Corporal Nobbs saluted.

"Report, Corporal," the man said, and sighed. He was about the age Sophie’s father would have been if he’d lived. He had a little painting of a sturdy-looking, smiling woman holding a baby on his desk. His lined face was harried but not unkind.

Nobbs handed the man a crumpled-looking piece of paper. "Sir, I wanted to bring this to your attention, as it seemed like a special situration. We nabbed these two, that is, Sergeant Detritus and myself apprehended these two suspects in Sator Square, sir. Mr. C.M.O.T. Dibbler was running and yelling as how these two ‘ad kidnapped him, if that ain’t the craziest thing anyone’s ever heard. I mean, surely as soon as anyone sane’d captured Throat Dibbler they’d throw him back."

The man at the desk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nobby, get on with it," he said.

"Sorry, Captain Vimes, sir." Nobbs straightened and took a breath, and then launched into something that sounded more rehearsed, as if he’d memorized it along the way. "We deduced male suspect, Mr. Pendragon, was wizard as suspect attempted to subduce me, Corporal Nobbs, by means of magic even though suspect did not appear to be wizard, i.e. as did not have pointy hat, was groomed, and accompanied by this woman of the female persuasion. Sergeant Detritus was unaffectated by the magic and suspects did surrender at that time. I asked male suspect whether he was wizard from Quirm and suspect said yes, though we do not believe him ‘cause of him not having Quirmian accent."

"Is that it?" Captain Vimes asked.

Nobbs shuffled for a bit, then said, "yessir."

The captain looked at Howl. "Are you from Quirm?"

"No," Howl admitted.

"And are you a wizard?"

"Yes."

Vimes steepled his forefingers in front of his mouth for a moment, then seemed a bit horrified at his own motion. He flattened his hands on the desk. "Tell me your side of the story."

Howl put on his most innocent and earnest expression, and gave Vimes a somewhat more coherent version of their adventure, starting with the purse and their capture of Dibbler, and leaving out the parts about Madame Suliman and the spell Sophie had botched, as well as the little interlude that had caused them to lose Dibbler. For which Sophie was grateful.

Vimes leaned back in his chair. "And where is Throat Dibbler now? Why didn’t you bring him in, Nobby?"

Corporal Nobbs looked somewhat abashed. "We couldn’t find him, sir."

"That’s because I-- ahem-- put a spell on him to head for Unseen University. He’s probably there even now," Howl offered, trying to look contrite but helpful at the same time.

Vimes stared at them for a few moments. Sophie heard a thump at the door, and something that sounded like a muffled ‘ook.’

"Wait yer turn, Special Constable Librarian," Detritus growled from behind Sophie. "We is busy."

"So," Vimes said, still staring intently at Howl. "Where are all these things Dibbler had-- the things you said you were bringing here with you?"

"Um," Howl said.

"They were sort of left at home," Sophie volunteered, speaking up at last. Why hadn’t they realized that earlier?

"I’ve got this," Howl said, and pulled out the sparkly little purse. He showed it to Captain Vimes, girl side out.

"Oook!"

"Pretty." Vimes sighed again. Oddly, Sophie liked him. "Let the Special Constable in, Detritus," he said. "I think he’s probably got something to do with this."

Sophie turned as the door opened and was only a little surprised to see the orange ape from earlier knuckle his way into the room. My, he’s very large up close, she thought. It was very cramped with all of them shoved in there.

"Ook! Ook ook," said the ape. "Ook."

Vimes nodded as if he’d understood every ook. "And is Throat Dibbler there, too?"

"Ook."

"Well," Vimes said, turning to look at Howl and Sophie again. "It looks like you’re off my hands, for which I’m grateful. Seems Archchancellor Ridcully up at the University wants to see you."

"Sir! These are criminals and furriners!" the corporal cried. Sophie figured that Nobbs had probably wanted to see Howl in loads of trouble. He was holding a grudge over that confusion spell.

Vimes waved a tired hand. "Wizards aren’t my department. And that’s where they were headed, anyway. I think we can leave them safely in the-- er-- hands of Special Constable Librarian. I take it you’ll go quietly?" This last was said to Howl.

"Yes?" Howl told him.

And so they were freed, at least into the custody of the orange ape, Special Constable Librarian. Who didn’t try to shackle Sophie, which was a plus.

"I’m sure they’ve already forgotten their new rules about unauthorized magic. Wizards are like that," Vimes told them as they went out the door. "But I suggest you be careful, all the same. If you want to finish a job, you have to keep your mind on it." His voice held a smile.

***

Well, that was a stroke of luck, thought Howl, as they followed the Special Constable Librarian through the streets. Wizards he could deal with. At least, he thought he could deal with them a lot more easily than that troll. When he’d thought the thing was going to crush Sophie…

Thinking of Sophie, he glanced down at her, walking at his side and once more gripping his hand. She wore that mysterious little smile, again. It was unnerving. It was arousing.

"Ook!" said the ape-constable-librarian, looking back at Howl with an accusing eye.

"We’re coming," Howl said, and picked up his pace once more. The librarian, now-- there was a wizard with a nasty spell on him if Howl had ever seen one. The spell probably could have been lifted, quite easily in fact, but the ape wore it with pride, self-perpetuating it even more aggressively than Sophie had her old-woman guise.

Then his brain woke up. Unauthorized magic? By heading to the University, was Howl letting them in for more trouble? Surely, he thought, this Archchancellor Ridcully would be grateful to them for returning Dibbler and pointing out their rogue spell. Not all the people here in Ankh-Morpork could be as crazy as Dibbler and Corporal Nobbs, after all. Captain Vimes of the Watch had been pretty understanding. All things considered. Though what had he meant about Howl keeping his mind on the job? Why else were they here?

Sophie was humming, one of the slightly vulgar songs she’d learned from Calcifer. Howl grinned down at her quite stupidly. Oh, he thought.

Well, he couldn’t help it, today of all days. Sophie shopping for him, bringing him that horrible little purse. All the responsibility. Sophie’s fearlessness and excitement at their small misadventure, and her no-nonsense attitude. Howl imagined that it held an expectant edge. Something had changed between them, and all he knew was that he found her more irresistible than ever, and was even more terrified of losing her.

"I knew it would all turn out," Sophie told him with a grin. He grinned back, again quite stupidly. "Things always do for you, Howl. You are a lucky man."

"I am. But they haven’t turned out yet," he warned.

Then a chorus of feminine giggles drew his attention. Just ahead of him the ape-librarian was weaving through a crowd of men shuffling aimlessly about before a grand building.

Actually, grand wasn’t the word for it. Gaudy was a bit more apt. This section of street and close-set buildings was decorated with a cheap-looking gilt, little gleaming cherubs perched on every lamppost and stair-landing. One building in particular was painted a blinding white-- a somewhat startling sight in the hazy-sunset atmosphere of Ankh-Morpork-- and its many windows were hung with wine-red curtains and scantily-clad women. "Guild of Seamstresses est. 1723" was picked out in shimmering gold paint on a sign in front of the building.

Seamstresses?

Now Sophie was slowing to gawk, eyes drinking in the garish sights. The ape ooked at her. Howl pulled at her hand, trying to draw her onwards.

"Howl?!?" The high-pitched shriek drew everyone’s attention. Howl caught sight of a tumble of blond hair out a window on the second floor of the Guild of Seamstresses. His heart froze with terror. "Howl! I’d swear that’s him. Hey, come here, you!"

Howl could see that Sophie’s brown eyes were now very wide and interested. The voice shrieked again, scratching like fingernails on Howl’s soul. "Howl! Don’t you dare ignore me! I know it’s you, even with that black hair! Get back here!"

Howl was saved by Special Constable Librarian, who with an ook of annoyance loped back and grabbed Sophie’s hand, pulling her forward. Howl was forced to pick up his pace and follow, lest he lose hold of Sophie. They quickened to a run, a run that took Howl ever-thankfully away from the Guild of Seamstresses and the danger that lurked there. How had that woman--?

"I think I may have taught that girl something," Wilhelmina had said, only earlier today. When they got back to the castle, if they ever got back, Howl would have another long talk with the horrible old ex-witch. He’d bring lots of liquor.

He peeped at Sophie, carefully, expecting to feel the force of her anger, to see the hate in her eyes, to accept the sinking feeling that he’d lost her for good. To his utter amazement, she was laughing as they ran.

"That girl is a tramp," she said, smugly.

"Um," was all Howl could think to reply. Some intelligent bit of his brain spoke up over the fading panic, telling him that it was best not to pursue the matter further. So he didn’t.

After a bit, the ape slowed in the growing crowds. In the near distance Howl could see a sprawling, bricked complex of buildings, culminating in an impossibly-tall and oddly-curved tower that lurked above the city in the fading light. Only years of ambient magic could have created something that bizarre-looking, and Howl knew they’d reached Unseen University.

The courtyard through the next gate was crowded with men wandering about carrying books and skulls and wearing pointy hats. Wizards, then, as Ankh-Morpork knew them. The men all had beards and ranged in age from teenager-ish to ancient, based at least upon the beard size and color, which ranged from scraggly brown to full, bushy white. Nearly all of the wizards had scrawny legs peeping from beneath robes of varying dark colors and foodstain patterns. And most of the wizards had pot-bellies.

No wonder the watchmen had been surprised by him, Howl thought. He bathed. This was a land of complacent and socialized wizardry. A far cry from Ingary, where any new wizard was usually good-looking, and might be friend or deadly rival. In Howl’s case, it had usually been the latter. The other wizards here gaped back at him just as interestedly, and Howl told himself to be wary.

"Ook," said Special Constable Librarian at Howl. Strangely, he was starting to understand the ape’s special language. He was pretty sure that had meant, stay close or you’ll get lost.

So they did, and it was a good thing. Inside the building was a labyrinth of passageways and doors even more confusing than the back-alleys of Ankh-Morpork. After several stairways they eventually reached a door marked "M. Ridcully, Arch."

Sophie squeezed Howl’s hand and gave him a hopeful smile. He really was lucky, Howl thought, especially after their run-in with that girl whose name Howl couldn’t even remember. Then he remembered he’d vowed to forget that girl completely.

The ape scratched at the door and knuckled his way in, and Howl and Sophie followed, and Sophie gaped some more. The round room somewhat resembled Howl’s bedroom, except for the bed, and except for the animal heads mounted on the walls and staring at them with dead eyes, and the well-oiled rifles hung next to them. But there was a cluttered couch, a few skulls dripping with wax, and a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. It was all very wizardly, if the wizard in question was a big-game hunter in his spare time.

An old wizard with a combed beard sat behind a huge desk. And Throat Dibbler sat in a chair in front of it, knees knocking with fear.

"Ah, come in, come in, Mr. Pendragon. And you, young lady," the old wizard stood and said in a hearty, booming voice. "Always good to meet a wizard from another world, what? I think you must be very powerful. I’m Mustrum Ridcully, and I believe you know old C.M.O.T. Dibbler, here. And I believe you have an item to show me?"

The old wizard was a knowing one, Howl would give him that. And he was certainly cleaner than the other wizards he’d seen here, excepting the Constable Librarian. Howl gave the man a little bow and pulled the purse from his pocket once more, laying it on Ridcully’s desk.

"Mmm hmmm," Ridcully said, picking it up. "Hmm. You’re a rascal, aren’t you, Throat? This has a very specific and subtle spell on it, did you know that, Pendragon?"

"I didn’t detect anything specific," Howl said, a little uncertainly.

Ridcully waved a somewhat disparaging hand at him. "Oh, I’m not surprised. That’s just because it’s specific to you. Where’d you get this, Throat, eh? Who sold it to you?"

Dibbler’s teeth were chattering. "I thinks I bought it offa girl name o’ Della in a place called Lonnon."

Ridcully laughed. "You know a Della in Lonnon, Pendragon?"

"Um," Howl said.

"I knew it!" Sophie said.

"Notice any ill-effects, Pendragon?" Ridcully boomed.

"Like what?"

"I hate to say it in front of the lady."

"Say it, please," Sophie told Ridcully.

Oh, no, not again, Howl thought. Not another one! Dahlia/Delilah/Della/whatever-her-name hadn’t seemed the vindictive sort. Though he had left London rather precipitously. "Oh, no, nothing like that going on," he said aloud, waving a dismissive hand. At least, everything seemed to be working as well as ever. He wondered what the spell might be.

Sophie glared at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"All’s well, then. For now," Ridcully laughed and set the purse back on his desk. "We’ll take care of this. Ilivin’s Fire oughta do it. We’ve already removed the spell from ol’ Throat here. Demned youngsters and their high-energy magic," he said and shook his head.

"Cin I go?" Throat asked.

"Yes, yes, man, get out of here. Stay away from doors for awhile," Ridcully told him. Dibbler was up and out of the chair and out the door instantly, warning or no. Howl began to sigh with relief-- they were going home!-- but then Ridcully looked at him and shook his head. "As for you, my friend-- I'm afraid we’ll have to arrest you for unauthorized use of magic. New era of cooperation between UU and the law, mind you. Can’t let our first real perpetrator off too lightly, eh, what?"

"What?" Sophie cried.

"What?" Howl spat, feeling his new heart sink into his feet. This is what came of being responsible. "We were just returning him--"

"I know that," Ridcully said. "Thanks. But we can’t just let rogue wizards pop in and out as they please, can we? We’ve finally got wizarding on this Disc all civilized, to the point where one can enjoy a good healthy meal without feeding it to the dog, first. We’ve gotta move with the times! You ain’t the seventh son of a seventh son, by any chance, are you?"

"No," Howl said, not knowing what else to say in that moment.

"Good, good. Our special room oughta work, then. Don’t worry, we’ll feed you and all, though you don’t look like you eat much. You may be here awhile. The Unlicensed Use of Magic Committee hasn’t gotten around to drawing up the procedures and penalties yet. They keep taking snack breaks, eh, what? Never decide anything!" He chortled. "She a witch?"

"No!" Howl said. He’d had enough of this. Now was the time to try getting out of here. He grabbed Sophie’s hand and waved his free one at the window, which flew open, blowing papers about the room. He started to take off, but then he felt a sharp, powerful pain at the base of his skull. Then he felt nothing.

***

Sophie re-wet a damp cloth in the basin of cold water she’d begged off of the wizards, and then kneeled on the floor next to the couch where Howl was stretched out. He still hadn’t awoken. Sophie clucked her tongue as she felt the knot forming under his damp hair. She bunched up the cool towel beneath it, hoping it might help reduce the swelling. Those wizards had assured her Howl would be all right; if he wasn’t, they were going to answer for it.

She decided to try something new. She dribbled a little of the icy water over his forehead, and was rewarded with a small, pathetic moan. So she splashed him with a little more. He probably deserved it. Della in London, indeed. The purse had been a curse after all, although what kind, she still did not know. Howl never would take actual blame for anything. But it was still partially Sophie’s fault for buying it in the first place. She wiped most of the water from his face.

"Pteh," Howl sputtered. It was a pathetic little sputter, but at least he was sputtering.

"Hello, Howl," she said, smiling down at him.

"Sophie," he whispered, and opened his eyes a crack. "Are we home?"

"No," she had to tell him. "We’re still at Unseen University, unfortunately."

"Bleh." He opened his eyes a little more. Tiny red lines spiraled out from the blue of his irises, and dark smudges lurked under his eyes. He must have one nasty headache, thought Sophie, with a twinge of pity building behind her ribcage. He looked pale, awful. It was the worst she’d ever seen him look, when he wasn’t covered in green slime, that was. Yet he still managed to look pretty darn good.

"Poor Howl," she said, adjusting the wet towel beneath his head and then brushing the black hair from his forehead with gentle fingers, and untangling it from his jeweled earring. "It’s probably not often that you get hit, is it?"

"No." Howl said, then tried to sit up too quickly. His face turned a shade of pale green and he dropped back to the couch. "Who did it?"

"It was the Special Constable, though they just call him the Librarian here. It’s what he does."

"That, and hit people when their backs are turned," Howl said with weak scorn.

"He was very sorry about it," she told him.

"What did he say to you? Ook?"

"Well, yes," Sophie had to admit. "But it was an ook that said, he regretted having to do that but he is adjunct to the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, after all, and was only doing his job. I think he actually likes you."

"No, he likes you. Everyone likes you, Sophie." Howl looked so despondent as he said it that it almost wasn’t a compliment. But Sophie was feeling so tenderly towards him at the moment, she took it as one anyway and kissed him on the cheek. Her stomach growled and she felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn’t eaten all day.

Howl gave a dramatic sigh, then waved a hand about the room. "I don’t suppose I can use magic in here, can I? Nope. What a mess." With a little more caution the second time, he raised himself to a sitting position and stared around a bit. "Couldn’t they have given us a little more furniture, at least?"

Sophie looked around with her own sigh. Pretty much she, Howl, the couch, a lantern, and a few ugly old paintings were the only things in the room. "I don’t think they actually expected to ever put anyone in here," she told him.

Howl’s reddened eyes widened. "Hey, and I’m taking up the whole couch. Let me move over." He shoved himself against the other end, taking the towel with him, and patted the damp spot where his head had lain.

Sophie didn’t object, just picked herself up from the floor and sat.

Howl looked around some more, wincing with every movement of his head. "How long will we be here, I wonder? Would they let me have a bath, do you think? And where are we supposed to sleep, anyway? And I can’t believe they put you in here, too." Then his eyes filled with a coy look, one that seemed to realize, hey, we’re alone at last. He looked like he was trying to decide whether or not to give up his pathetic air to pursue it.

Sophie rolled her eyes back at him. Howl thought he was so sly. After the giant tantrum Sophie had thrown, convincing those fusty old wizards to let her in here. "I insisted," she said. Then she added, "for a city with a Guild of Seamstresses they’re awfully old-fashioned."

A fzzzting sound from the other side of the room cut off any reply Howl might have made. Tiny bolts of lightning formed around the door, causing its outline to glow for a moment. Then it opened.

A young wizard, one of the teenagers with the wispy little beards, stuck a tentative head around the door. His pointy, star-patterned hat drooped over his spotty forehead. "Uh. Hello, Miss Sophie. Are you two hungry?"

"No," said Howl.

"Yes," said Sophie. Her stomach growled again.

"Oh. Okay," the boy said, then turned to speak to someone outside the door. "You can come in, Mizz Smith."

A largish woman in a maidservant’s clothing carried in a tray with mounds of food on it. She ogled Howl, smiled at Sophie, and deposited the tray on the floor. "Ere you goes," she said, winked at Howl for good measure, then waddled out. The door fzzzted shut.

Howl tested the room for magic-blocking spells again, found them in place, then sighed and collapsed once more, head drooping in Sophie’s lap. "I can’t possibly eat," he said.

"I can," Sophie told him, and removed his head from her thigh so she could sit on the floor with the food. It looked and smelled delicious. It was no surprise, really-- the wizards here certainly looked like they ate well. And Sophie had eaten no breakfast or lunch. She devoured some potatoes and chicken and vegetables while Howl moaned on the couch. There were also two slices of a lovely apple pie. Sophie ate every crumb of one of them.

"Are you going to eat this? It’s very good," she told Howl, holding up the other slice of pie.

"Eh," said Howl.

"Fine," said Sophie, and proceeded to eat the second piece of pie as well. She guzzled an entire glass of ale to wash it down.

When she was finished her dress was too tight to sit comfortably on the floor. So she lifted Howl’s head from the now-dry side of the couch, sat down, and deposited his head back onto her lap. Her eyes drooped shut and she relaxed with a full, happy sigh.

At some point in her half-doze Howl must have gotten bored with being injured, for she felt his head leave her lap, and felt also his eyes upon her. Sophie glanced over to see what he was doing. He had his head propped on one palm, and was giving her one of those stares, the ones that made her stomach feel all fluttery.

"It’s too bad we’re in all this trouble, but I’m glad you’re here," he told her. His gaze caressed her face, her chin, her shoulders.

The old Sophie would have blushed and stammered. But this Sophie was full of food, relaxed by the ale, and content with being in love with such a handsome wretch. "I’m glad too," she said and stretched out a hand to him. "Imagine poor Howl, here all by himself."

"I know." He used her grip to pull himself next to her, and slipped his other hand around the tight waist of her gown. It said something for Sophie’s mood that she didn’t even object to that. Content, relaxed Sophie sort of just melted onto him, and wasn’t the least shy about how much she wanted to be kissed.

It was very nice, too. One of those slow, searching kisses she’d learned from him. "You taste like apples," Howl told her after a while, with a grin in his voice.

"You really should have had some pie," she said, winding her fingers in his soft hair, and being careful not to scratch the knot on his skull.

"Mrf rth dis," Howl said, kissing her again, more enthusiastically than before. Sophie threw herself into it at least as enthusiastically. It was wonderful, to just let things happen as they would, to be the focus of all his attention, to enjoy the intimacy of it without any thought of stopping.

She didn’t know how long that lasted, only that it was a long time. At some point every part of her that pressed against him was warm and shivery, and she couldn’t bear to be so far from him, and at some other point she crawled onto his lap.

There had been kisses, but never before had Sophie let things progress to the point where Howl, or she, was quite this breathless and desperate. It was a revealing experience, coming up for air now and then to feel his lips trailing those lovely paths along her jawline, and the breath in her ear that made her tingle all over with every heave of his lungs. She found she couldn’t stop touching him; she let her hands caress his chest through the thin blue fabric of his shirt, and felt the furious thump of his heart. That was for her. It was glorious and gratifying, and Sophie wondered why she’d ever been so worried about being this close. Howl was so very good at it.

"Sophie!" he said after a long while, with such breathless exclamation in his voice. "Please don’t ever leave me."

An ache grew in Sophie’s chest and expanded; she couldn’t imagine why he was asking such a thing. Had he actually thought-- well, she supposed she could see how he could have. Such an indecisive person she must have seemed. Poor Howl. The ache crawled throughout her limbs and pooled in a throbbing mess somewhere below her belly. "I love you," she told him.

"I mean it," he said, grasping her face in his hands, nose touching hers. "Don’t ever leave me. I couldn’t bear it."

Howl always said things sideways. But Sophie heard what he didn’t say aloud. It was irresistible. "I won’t," she told him, and went without air for a while longer.

For Sophie had already decided that when they got home to the castle, if they ever got home, she was going to lock him in his bedroom. From the inside.

He was biting her earlobe again. Scratch that, they were locked in here.

"Don’t know what spell Ridcully was talking about," Howl mumbled at one point. "I’m fine."

Sophie didn’t ask, and things sort of evolved to a really happy level after that. In fact, Howl had just managed to get them both stretched out on the couch, and was doing some very surprising and thrilling things with his clever hands, when the door fzzzted again.

A moment of stillness lapsed, and then Howl sprang up and away to the opposite side of the couch. Sophie sat up just as quickly and tried to straighten her gown.

"Argh!" Howl muttered. "Interruption. That must be it!"

"What?" Sophie asked, still a bit breathless and dazy.

But Howl didn’t answer, as the door lit up again around the edges and swung open partway to admit a thin face. It was the teenaged wizard who’d come earlier with Sophie’s dinner. He was joined by a few friends, other adolescents wearing pointy hats and spots, poking their heads through the cracked door.

"We’re coming in," one of them said.

"Fine!" spat Howl.

The group, four of them, traipsed in on tiptoe and then shut the door quietly behind them. Three of the newcomers shuffled their feet a bit and stared at the floor. The one they’d met before finally spoke up.

"We can get you out of here. But there’s a price," he said, voice shaking.

"Fine," Howl said again. He didn’t much sound like he wanted to leave, but he may have been warming to the idea. Home sounded like a mostly wonderful thing to Sophie. She just wished somewhat that home had maybe come a little bit later.

"Teach us how to get girls," one of the other young men said.

"You’re kidding," Howl said.

But Sophie didn’t think they were kidding at all. Wizards here in this world were not the handsomest of specimens. They were the pale, flabby type who rarely went outdoors in daylight. Even Corporal Nobby Nobbs had been surprised to see a wizard accompanied by a female. She could well imagine how desperate they must be. She sympathized with them a lot, in fact.

"No!" one of the others said, sounding a bit offended. "We mean it. Tell us how to get girls," here he nodded at Sophie, "and we’ll sneak you out. That, we’re really good at."

Howl, changeable in mood as ever, began to grin. Then he laughed. Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but he was apparently too amused to heed her.

"I can do that," he said.

He asked for paper, quill and ink and among the four young wizards, they managed to scavenge those items from their robes. Howl gestured them over into a group, and wrote some strange symbols on the paper with numbers lined up next to them. It looked like some sort of arcane recipe to Sophie. There was a lot of whispering. There was also a lot of male snickering. It was disgusting. When Howl was done, whatever it was he’d written, the young wizards were satisfied. No, they were smug.

"All right men, let’s go," their first young man said to the others. He turned to Howl and Sophie. "You’ll have to be quiet."

Howl and Sophie nodded, both as silent as the grave. Hand in hand, they followed the group through the door and then through a wall or two-- apparently some of the hallways at old UU were there just for show-- and soon they all stood outside. The wizards led them to a wall at the edge of the courtyard and removed a number of loose bricks.

"We sneak out to go drinking sometimes," one of them told Howl.

Howl gave him one of those man-to-man nods of understanding.

"Once you’re through, you can pretty much use any spell you want to go home," one of the others said.

"Thanks," Howl told them. He grinned at Sophie and clasped her fingers to draw her through the hole in the wall.

Sophie didn’t feel safe letting Howl use magic until they’d walked a good few blocks from the University. "I guess there are good things about being a vile seducer of women, after all," Sophie told him once they were a decent distance away. Her voice may have been a bit snippy, but she couldn’t be sure.

"Hah." Howl had the good sense to look abashed. "I’m not vile. I’m also not much of a seducer, either. Apparently." His laugh was slightly bitter. Interruption spell, a nasty one, he seemed to mumble to himself. "Of course, it’s late. Surely everyone will be asleep at home?"

Sophie agreed with the sentiment. She quivered and ached all over at the thought of being alone with Howl at home, and it was a good ache. Love was an awful thing, in so many very different ways. "Can we go home now?" she asked.

"Let’s," Howl said, and drew a circle in the air with his finger, and then stepped forward, pulling Sophie along. She stepped through nothing, felt her stomach drop again, and they left Ankh-Morpork where it belonged, behind them.

xxx

Howl brought them through the ‘door’ directly onto the balcony-yard of his flying castle. He took a brief moment to congratulate himself silently on his returned wizarding skills. They were home! He’d been so fevered and loopy for the last hour that he hadn’t been absolutely sure he could accomplish the task of getting them here. It might have had something to do with being knocked on the head, but Howl suspected it had much more to do with Sophie.

He looked down at her, standing beside him. She looked up. They didn’t go inside, just stood out in the cold, staring at each other like idiots.

Sophie’s hair shone in the dark, pale as the damp clouds that passed around and through them. Something had changed about her, in Ankh-Morpork. Her sweetly stubborn independence had come full-circle, or something, and she was in charge here. Whatever she wanted, he would give her. Her little hands had a careful grip on his heart, as they had for months.

What did she want? Time to decide? She’d seemed pretty damned decisive, in Ankh-Morpork. He’d waited in that little room for a halt that had not come-- well, from Sophie, anyway-- and now he was off-kilter, unsure.

Sophie stepped closer, decisive once more. Howl was still careful; he let his hands run over her, let them remember the shape of her and the way she breathed. Then he pulled her close, as close as could be. Making sure she understood just how much he wanted her.

She didn’t back away, and her breath formed little misty clouds of white as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

She’d said she wouldn’t leave him. And Sophie nearly always told the complete truth, when it was really important. He loved her so very much, if love felt like being punched in the stomach. Or if it made one feel that the blood was rushing so madly through one’s veins that the flesh was unable to cope; the flesh must fall.

She made the most extraordinary little noises. That grass over there looked nice and soft--

The door was opening. That purse had definitely carried an interruption spell, Howl decided with a sort of nihilistic resignation.

"Sophie! Master Howl! You’re back!"

"Well, look, if it isn’t the sleeping princess, being kissed awake at last."

"Huh?" This was Markl again.

He would never be alone with Sophie again, Howl thought. What he said aloud was, "hello, everyone," complete with the falsest smile he could muster.

"Hello Markl, Granny," said Sophie, releasing Howl and turning towards the door. She didn’t sound upset in the least. "Is Heen all right? I didn’t hurt him earlier, did I?"

That was Sophie, always caring. The dog, hearing his name, followed Markl and Wilhelmina out the door, wagging his tail and wheezing with glee. And yes, to make the crowd complete, there was Calcifer, hovering over Markl’s head.

"You were gone all day, Sophie!" Markl cried.

"You left everything here, Howl," Calcifer said.

"I know!" Howl said with a sigh. There was still so much to deal with. Dammit.

Wilhelmina laughed. "You should be in bed, Markl," she said. "I’m going to stay out here and watch the ice melt."

"Huh?" from Markl again.

"You’re always so cynical, Granny," Sophie told the old lady with a kiss on the cheek.

Howl waved his arms. If they all had to gather right now, and if he had work to do while they gathered, then he’d prefer to do it somewhere comfortable. "It’s cold out here. Why don’t we just go inside, and Sophie will tell everyone all about it?"

"Did you bring me anything?" Wilhelmina asked, shuffling through the door.

"No! But we did run into one of your little sabotages," Howl told her with narrowed eyes. Her, at least, he could be cross with. "To punish you, I won’t even tell you any more about it."

"Whatever it was, I’m sure it happened a long time ago," Wilhelmina snorted. "If you can be forgiven, then so can I."

"Can we just go inside, please?" Wheeze. "Thank you, Heen."

At last they all bundled in the door. Calcifer jumped into his grate, crackling the logs and filling the room with warmth. Howl could see everything was as they’d left it-- the circle on the floor around the chair, all of Dibbler’s junk piled on his kitchen table. The room still smelled faintly of sausage.

"You’d better go search W-- Granny's room, Markl," Howl told the boy. "We’ll need to get rid of absolutely everything, or this whole trip was for nothing."

"And Sophie calls me cynical," Wilhelmina said, laughing again. "I haven’t got anything."

"We have heard that before, Granny," Sophie reminded her. Good for Sophie! At least someone was taking Howl’s side.

"I don’t have anything. Really. All that man’s stuff is junk, anyway," the old lady said.

"Where did you go, Sophie?" Markl wanted to know.

Sophie set out the teacups and started some water to boil, then sat down with Wilhelmina and Markl to tell them about Ankh-Morpork. Howl knelt down at the grate to talk to Calcifer.

"The wizard there said Illivin’s Fire. When he said fire, I thought, Calcifer’s the demon to talk to." It never hurt to butter up Calcifer; Howl had learned that from Sophie. "Can you help me with that one?"

Calcifer looked a little smug. "Hmmm… is that the blue one with all the sparkly lights?"

"Yep."

"Got a little curse to get rid of too, then, don’t you?"

"Maybe." Damn Calcifer. Howl’s mood was deteriorating moment by moment. Not only was he having to put up with sauce from everyone, but this job would most likely take hours. If he did it thoroughly; that was, if he included setting the spell to locate all the other items that might be scattered around Ingary, and then destroying them right where they were, whether lying on a table or walking around Kingsbury in someone’s pocket or handbag. That would take finesse. He wasn’t sure he had the patience right then for finesse. But he was determined to finish the job. He had to finish something, or he would go mad.

At least Calcifer seemed to feel like being helpful. The tops of his flames snapped, throwing little sparks into the air. "Bring ‘em on," he said.

"That’s a good fire."

"Don’t push it, Howl."

"And there was a large orange ape who was a wizard and a policeman!" Sophie was telling Markl and Wilhelmina. Thankfully, from what Howl was hearing, she also knew what parts to leave out of the story. "He was very nice. Usually. He had the most interesting ways of saying ook."

Howl began grabbing Dibbler’s stuff from end of the table where the others had pushed it. From what he could tell, it looked like everything was there. He eyed the chair, and wondered if that was tainted and should go as well. Then he shrugged. He could always make a new chair. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and went to work. Everything was piled on the chair-- the odd black-and-glass boxes, the other horrible little items with pictures of Mary Lynn Monner on them. Dibbler’s stick with the jangling bits all over it he propped against the chair. Howl had to wipe his hands after he’d touched that.

A few more drawings on the floor and soon Howl was engrossed, to good effect. Howl would whip up a spell in the air and Calcifer would give it a good shot of flame to ignite it. Thankfully, the blue sparkly Illivin’s fire worked on the items in his kitchen. Once he finally got rid of them, the smell of sausage vanished.

"Oh! You wouldn’t believe the wizards in Ankh-Morpork," Howl thought he heard Sophie say at one point. "They all have beards and wear pointy hats. Except for the ape I mentioned, of course. But that’s how you know they’re wizards, there. I think. And one of them told me that the entire point of going to Unseen University is learn how not to use magic. Isn’t that odd?"

Odd is right, thought Howl, idly. He hadn’t remembered hearing that. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious and just how many wizards Sophie had chatted with during that time. It had probably been she who’d initially charmed those hormonal youngsters who had set him and Sophie free.

"Not to use magic? But that’s dumb," Markl said.

"You got that right, kid. Sounds like a stupid idea to me, too," Wilhelmina said. "Were any of ‘em good-looking?"

"Well..." Sophie said. "I wouldn’t say handsome, precisely."

Howl and Calcifer kept working. The location spell took much longer since it was for an unknown number of items. Thankfully, it seemed, Dibbler hadn’t sold too many knickknacks before Howl and Sophie had caught him.

The other worlds Dibbler had passed through-- Howl could do nothing about them.

Time passed. Things grew quiet around him. Howl was concentrating so hard on finishing the damn job-- and focusing on it as he’d been told to-- that he hardly noticed when Sophie kissed his cheek. She said something, and he said okay, took a second to wonder what she’d said, and then had to concentrate some more. People bought the strangest things, and stashed them in the strangest places.

But when he and Calcifer were finally done, Howl was pretty darned confident that all the trinket-stragglers were taken care of. The unlucky temporary owners, Dibbler’s customers, shouldn’t even wake to find scorch spots on their tables or clothing. Howl was that good.

He set his hands on his hips and closed his eyes to gloat for a few moments. He wondered whether he should send a snarky note to Suliman. Maybe he’d write one line only: "Done with Everything. H." Or maybe it should just say "Done." And should he sign it, "Love, H.?" just to be ironic? Nah, he ultimately decided. Suliman would only laugh, and he didn’t feel like giving her any reason for amusement.

Howl opened his eyes and looked around the castle kitchen. The smell of sausage wasn’t the only thing that had vanished. Everyone else had vanished, also. At some point Granny, and even Markl, who should have at least offered to help, had gone to bed.

And Sophie was gone also. Howl could hardly believe it. She hadn’t even waited for him to be finished. So it was late morning, already-- big deal. She could have at least waited a few hours for him, after all they’d been through.

Or at least she could have made breakfast.

Howl had been abandoned. He was cranky, lonely, and tired. The near-afternoon sun was shining happy yellow beams through the Kingsbury window. Even the weather wouldn’t cooperate with his mood.

"Well, I guess I’m the only one who cares, then," Howl whined, to no one in particular.

"Don’t know why you’re telling me," Calcifer said in a sleepy voice.

"Grrr," Howl said. He briefly considered taking a bath. Then he had a better idea.

He stomped to the door, and turned the knob to yellow. Sunny. Ick. He tried blue. A few rain-splatters hit the window.

"Perfect," he said. He opened the door, went out, and slammed it behind him.

xxx

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 wanton-like manner.

And she 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.

THE END.

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