(A/N)- Having a bit of a tough time with my other WW fanfiction, like, I have a good chunk of the middle, no end yet, but nowhere continuing from where I left off and mehh ... I may start it over. Juss sayin'. But I'm trying hard not to.
For now, here's a one-shot that I had in mind. Highly improbable that this would happen, but hey, a girl can dream. I apologize for any errors, I did proofread but it's 3am (I must be lonely) and there's bound to be at least one boo-boo.
This takes place in the middle of the episode 'Just Like Clockwork', part 2 if you're watching it on youtube. I know there is probably not enough time for this to occur, but lets just assume time jumps ahead between each scene in the show because it could you know! :P
WARNING it is rated T but it gets a little ... well, not incredibly detailed since I am crap when it comes to smut, but just giving you a fair warning. Also, if you do not like femslash, you should just turn away now.
-Closer-
"There may be one way out," Imogen began, and her voice tore Constance away from the thoughts of a future Cackle's Academy with Mistress Hecketty Broomhead as the headmistress.
"... plead with Miss Cackle to come back," Imogen suggested, looking to Lavinia Crochet, eyes filled with determination.
"What?" Lavinia asked incredulously, "And leave her sick aunt?"
"Oh, we can't ask that ..." Constance said sympathetically, thinking of how rude it would be to ask Amelia to come back just because the woman of her nightmares was possibly planning to stay at Cackle's permanently.
Then again, she did explain to Amelia, in as least words as possible, her reason for fearing her ex-tutor and her old world method of teaching. Constance had divulged this information after Hecketty's last visit, when she came as the school inspector.
Amelia was horrified, but she could see how Constance was most definitely telling the truth, given the inspector's covered-up past regarding her strange and outrageous behavior in her school years. Amelia feared the day when Hecketty might return, and she had left to see to her sick aunt without knowing who her replacement would be.
"Can we?" she asked hopefully, looking between her two colleagues.
She was in-between wanting to just wait it out and wanting to contact Amelia immediately. However, before she could discuss this further with her fellow staff members, the dragon herself had stepped into the staffroom.
Hecketty looked at Constance first, then her eyes turned to Lavinia, "Miss Crochet?" she asked, "I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the room. I'd like to have a word alone with Constance."
Lavinia opened her mouth to say something about Imogen being there, but Imogen grabbed her arm and shook her head, mouthing the word 'No' as Hecketty rounded on Constance.
Lavinia thought Imogen meant 'no' as in 'no, don't remind Broomhead that I exist for the third time today', and Imogen had meant that. But she had also meant, 'no, don't leave me alone in this room when I have no magick to defend Constance with lest something happens.'
"Miss Crochet?" Broomhead asked after eying her ex-pupil down a bit, making her feel uncomfortable. A lump had settled in her throat as Constance realized, 'She must have overheard us, she knows what we're planning to do, I'm a dead witch'. But then she had realized, like every other time in her life under the tutelage of that horrid woman: what use was she if she was dead? Death would be quick and relatively painless. No, Hecketty loved to torture her. Both mentally as well as physically. But she was forty-three years old! Surely she wouldn't attack her, now, would she? But then again- this was Hecketty Broomhead.
Miss Crochet left, but not before casting a worried glance in Constance's direction. Constance felt the fear begin to really settle in as Lavinia shut the door behind her. She glanced over at Imogen, who looked even more worried than Lavinia did.
Imogen, not wanting Constance to feel as if she was eavesdropping, took a book out from her bag which hung behind her chair. 'Pride and Prejudice', Constance new, without having to read the cover. Imogen had been dog-earing it for the past week, never having had much time to finish it.
"Constance, I was thinking you might consider taking a refresher course in Potions," Mistress Hecketty Broomhead said, her voice laced with malice, "You could certainly use it. The grades are just appalling! Every girl in your class is barely passing, with the exception of Ethel Hallow, of course."
"It's only the beginning of term, Mistress Broomhead," Constance pleaded, "The girls just got off their summer break, so it's understandable why they aren't -"
"You are far too lenient, Constance!" Hecketty snapped, cutting her off, "Haven't you remembered anything I've taught you? Perfection is key! If they aren't achieving straight A's, then it is up to you to make sure they do!"
Miss Drill raised a brow in disbelief as she watched the two from the staffroom table, her head on her hand as she pretended to be reading her book.
Hecketty had been picking on Constance all day long about her teaching methods, never giving her a moment's peace. Watching her, Miss Drill had noticed that Miss Hardbroom looked thoroughly stressed from this constant nagging. Every once in a while, she'd steal a quick glance at Imogen, as if looking to see if she would rescue her. But what could she do? She'd only provoke the ex-inspector to poke fun at her own teaching abilities, or to inform her of how pointless it was to teach physical education in a school for witches.
Imogen had enough of that from Constance on a regular basis. Even though she did let up every once in a while, whenever they got into a real nasty fight, the topic would always rear it's ugly head. Imogen would always then threaten to pack her bags and leave, and Constance would eventually come round at the right moment and prevent her from leaving her room.
"I'm ashamed of you, Constance. All that training has most definitely gone to waste!"
"Oh would you just bugger off!" Imogen shouted suddenly, causing both witches to turn and look at her in shock. Even Imogen herself had no idea what had just come over her, except that she was getting really sick and tired of hearing Broomhead berate everyone.
"If I hear one more word about how terrible Miss Hardbroom is at her job, I'm going to put this book through a wall!"
Mistress Broomhead sneered at her, and Constance, though thoroughly amused, was looking between the two like a deer caught in headlights. Imogen saw her flex her spell-casting fingers, ready to defend her if need be.
"Miss Drill, is it?" Hecketty drawled, looking at her with her hands clasped across her stomach, a small sick smile across her face as she spoke to the non-witch as if she was a child, "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do!" she exclaimed, mocking her, pretending to look at a non-existent watch, "Anywhere but here." She slammed her book shut as loud as a paperback could slam, and she bounced up from her chair, heading for the door.
"Oh, and Miss Hardbroom," she called, hanging onto the doorframe as she was about to leave, "Don't forget you have detention to oversee. Right about now."
Constance nodded, fighting a small smile that threatened to spread across her face. With one last glance at Hecketty, she strode out of the room after the sports woman, making sure to close the door magically behind her.
Once she was certain she was out of earshot from that awful old witch, she quickened her steps, her keys jingling wildly at her side as she ran as fast as her tight dress would allow. She quickly caught up with Imogen, and she grabbed her by the wrist, taking her off guard.
"Miss Drill, might I have a word with you?" she asked, in her usual serious tone of voice as she continued to walk along the corridor, "In private?"
"Constance, I'm sorry, I had to-"
"In private, Miss Drill!" she reminded in a harsh whisper, and she threw open the door to the supply closet, dragging Imogen in there with her before slamming it shut.
"What on earth were you thinking?" she hissed, eyes wild as she clutched the smaller woman by the shoulders, "Do you have any idea what she could have done to you? What she might still do to you?"
"Constance, I'm sorry, I -" she began to explain, but she was cut off as Constance clutched her close and pressed her lips roughly to hers, pushing her back until she was slammed up against the door. She let out a small cry of surprise against the potion mistress's mouth, before shoving her away.
Constance stood before her, eyes ablaze with fear and desire as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling steadily.
"I can't risk it, Constance," she said quietly, "You can't risk it. Your job ... if she finds out ..."
"She's not going to find out," Constance breathed, nearing her once more. Imogen was too entranced by her closeness now to give a damn, as she breathed quickly through her nose, her heart racing as she watched her intently, awaiting her next move.
"I've cast a silencing spell," she breathed against the gym mistress's ear before gently nibbling at it, slowly pressing her body full against her until she was pressed up against the door once more, so close that Imogen could feel her heartbeat pounding wildly in her chest, "She's busy with paperwork right now, she'll never suspect ..."
"How can you be so sure?" Imogen asked in a shiver, reaching up to grasp the witch's shoulders, holding her closer if that was even possible.
"Don't question me," she growled, pressing her forehead against the other woman's, looking her in the eyes, "I've been her student since I was seven years old. I know how to avoid her when I desperately need to, and this ..." she situated her knee between her thighs, eliciting a gasp from the blonde, "is an emergency situation."
"Is it now?" Imogen moaned with a mischievous smirk, stealing a warm kiss from the brunette's lips.
"You were incredible back there," Constance complimented with a small smile, gazing lustfully into her blue eyes, "I could've kissed you right then."
"Let's not get too reckless now ..." Imogen chided, tracing her jawbone with her soft fingers, enjoying being in such close proximity to her after what seemed like ages. She looked forward to making up for lost time once Miss Cackle returned, but her main concern was now, this moment in time. She wanted her so badly, wanted nothing more than to kiss away the undue stress Broomhead had been causing her this past week.
Imogen reached up, undoing the painfully tight bun at the top of her lover's head, and reveled in the feeling of her long dark hair as it cascaded down her back. She ran her fingers through her hair, against her scalp, causing a shiver to pass through the taller woman as she closed her eyes in relief.
Still, Constance wanted more.
The witch opened her eyes, gazing down at her. She distracted her with soft kisses on the lips as she snaked a hand up her shirt, cupping her breast through her sports bra. Imogen stiffened, trying to back away, and Constance pulled back, her eyes a mixture of hurt.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Imogen asked, "Right now? Right here?" she felt she needed to ask. She didn't want to hear her complaining later that it was a foolish thing to do, or worse, if Hecketty caught them both in the act. She didn't want to think of the sort of trouble they'd both be in if that happened.
"Of course!" she whispered angrily, rolling her eyes, "It's not like I've pinned you like this so I could give you a breast exam!"
"Constance!" Imogen shushed, suppressing a giggle as a blush crossed her features.
"Silencing spell, remember?" Constance asked, holding up her pointer and pinky finger, wiggling them in the air, "My gods, woman, do you ever hear a word I say?"
"Hard to do, especially when you're always looking so breathtakingly beautiful," she teased, causing her to roll her eyes once more.
"Oh, will you just shut up and kiss me!" She ordered in annoyance, and the sports woman gladly obeyed.
"What are you going to do about Broomhead?" Imogen asked as she got dressed, watching for a moment in awe as Constance redid her bun up with magic. She hadn't gotten undressed, it wasn't her style, but she had cast a spell to take out the wrinkles in her skin-tight black silk dress. She turned to Imogen, a knowing glint in her eye.
"I'll contact Miss Cackle," she replied, "Simple as that."
"What about her sick aunt?" Imogen asked.
"I didn't say she'd come back straight away," she retorted, "I'm just going to let her know what's going on, that's all. After all, we could be making mountains out of molehills. This isn't the first time she's gone to visit that same aunt," she said distastefully, rolling her eyes as she effortlessly cast a spell to un-wrinkle Imogen's clothes, "From what Amelia's told me before, she has the tendency to exaggerate."
"Serious or not, you should mention to her what she's done to poor Mildred!" Imogen exclaimed, fluffing her fingers through her short blonde hair in an effort to make it look at least halfway decent, not as if Hecketty would acknowledge her existence, anyway.
"Ah yes," Constance said, somewhat pitifully, despite her usual dislike for the girl, "Mildred. Well, she's not the first girl to get tagged with that wretched device, and she certainly won't be the last."
Constance reached up to straighten Imogen's hair the manual way, biting back the urge to make yet another remark to her about how horribly Imogen's hairdresser had cut it. It was far too short, even for her. Constance preferred it a teensy bit longer, so that it was more like a pixie cut. Oh well ... it was hair, it would grow back. She only wished Imogen would let her magic it back to the way she preferred it, but Imogen had decided to just live with it.
"She didn't ..." Imogen's eyes widened slightly, thinking about Constance having to go through the same thing Mildred was, only she had been more than likely younger than Mildred when it had first happened, "You were tagged with it once, weren't you?"
"It doesn't matter now," Constance assured, giving her a small peck on the cheek, allowing a soft smile to cross her lips, "I'm not her pupil anymore."
Imogen, knowing how Constance didn't like to talk about her past, fell silent. But she could not hide the look of pity in her eyes.
"Oh, don't look at me like that, Imogen!" Constance scolded, folding her arms across her chest, "I'm still here, aren't I? I survived. It's the girls I'm worried about."
Imogen leaned up and kissed her on her ruby red lips one more time.
"Call Amelia."
(A/N)- Sorry the ending is a tad abrupt. And sorry I cut off 'their scene' like that, but I can't write smut and you would've been in hysterics. Now, I know this is just a one-shot, but I'd really appreciate it if you would review! :) Please and thanks. Hopefully my other fic will be updated soon, can't make any guarantees though. :P