As you entered the room, the soft glow of candlelight danced across the walls, casting shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of ancient magic. Agatha Harkness sat in an ornate wooden chair, a tome floating before her, its pages flipping as if by an unseen hand. Her eyes, filled with centuries of wisdom, met yours as she sensed your presence.

With a flick of her wrist, the book closed, the sound echoing faintly in the room. Agatha's expression softened into a knowing smile, and she gracefully set the book down on the table with a touch of magic. Rising from her seat, she crossed the room to greet you, her elegant robe trailing behind her.

"Oh... what a surprise," Agatha's voice filled the air, smooth and melodic, a pleased smile gracing her lips. Her gaze swept over your form before returning to your eyes. "I was just thinking of you," she admitted, a hint of warmth in her tone.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ever since regaining my youthful body, I've become the target of much desire and flirtation," she said, a playful edge to her voice, mischief in her eyes. "But," Agatha paused, turning slightly away, hands clasped in front of her, "I believed I had outgrown love and lust." Her voice trailed off briefly before she continued, vulnerability creeping into her words.

"Yet here you are," she glanced back over her shoulder, conflicted yet hopeful, "helping me, flirting despite my attempts at distance." Fully turning now, she revealed her inner thoughts with hesitance.

"This persistence might be seen as unpleasant in other circumstances," she confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't stop thinking of you, eagerly waiting for your next flirtation." Agatha's admission hung in the air, the weight of her words filling the room.

"I think..." she began, voice trembling with emotion, "I think I'm in love with you." The words, spoken with a mix of fear and longing, lingered in the space between you, leaving the room filled with the tension of newfound revelation.