Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch and the song 'I Kissed A Girl' belongs to Katy Perry.

A/N: Those of you who know me will know that I am a massive fan of Katy Perry – she is fabulous! I've had this song stuck in my head all week and after a busy week filled with uni coursework, I just had to write something that didn't have the word 'entrepreneur' in it; swear to god, I never want to hear that word again :S

Big thanks and hugs go to typicalRAinbow for keeping one amused and for motivating me to do this with promises of virtual wine and cookies every time I hit a certain amount of words. Much appreciated dear *hands a creme egg*

XxX

A/N - Edited 2013- song lyrics removed. I've worried for some time about copyright laws and have thus made the decision to remove the lyrics from any writing I have done. :)

I Kissed A Girl

Looking over at her boyfriend Serge lying beside her, Imogen noted how he was fast asleep; his soft snoring, the only sound that could be heard in the room, aside from the ticking of the clock and judging by the grin he was wearing across his face, she didn't need to guess twice what he was dreaming about. Stealing another glance at the clock she groaned upon seeing it had been a minute since she had last looked; it was going to be a long night.

Sleep was evading her it would seem. For hours now she had been trying to fall asleep, she had tried every trick in the book and yet here she was, still wide awake. She didn't even see what was so hard about it, it was simple really: all she had to do was clear her mind and then close her eyes. And there lay the problem, she couldn't clear her mind … and she knew why.

Her eyes were still firmly on the clock, watching as another minute ticked by, the hands on the clock moving by slowly; like grains of sand draining away from a sand timer. Since it seemed unlikely she would fall asleep anytime soon she decided that she may as well try and utilise her time productively and reached over to the bedside table for her Sport's magazine, with the intention of reading it and possibly making some notes of ideas she could introduce into her lessons.

The material was interesting enough but her mind couldn't focus on the words. Instead it was stuck in that one moment; replaying it on a loop in her mind. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid, she could have kicked herself. How was she supposed to face her again?

Fanning through the pages once more, the movement creating a pleasant breeze as it wafted in her face, she threw it to the floor and reached for her ipod – her other source of dealing with her frustrations when she wasn't able to go for a run. Fiddling for the on switch -and noting how it seemed to take even longer than usual to finally load up- she flicked it onto shuffle mode, planning to block out her thoughts with some good music and as the beat started up she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from screaming out in anger at the sheer appropriateness of the song – I Kissed A Girl … and that was exactly what she had done.

Against her better judgement she allowed her mind to wander back over the events of the previous evening.

A special meal had been prepared for the staff, the wine was in full flow and the conversation was in full swing, for a few of her colleagues at least. Constance Hardbroom rolled her eyes as Davina told a joke, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering the punch line. It wasn't a very funny joke, and not least because she'd told the same joke four times within the space of an hour, but Amelia tittered politely just so she didn't feel bad.

She had noticed how Constance was nursing her glass of wine- almost full to the brim- her long willowy fingers curled elegantly around the stem. Looking down at her own glass she had realised it was empty … again, reaching for the bottle to top it up she found it drained down to the very last drop.

Thinking about it she'd probably drank the majority of the bottle. Her mind was fuzzy from the night before so it was a bit of a haze, but she had remembered crossing swords with Constance Hardbroom although she didn't know what it had been about, she had remembered the witch had taken the moral high ground refusing to indulge her in her intoxicated state and politely excused herself and she had remembered standing up and going after her.

After that she was drew a blank. She had no idea how it had happened. One moment they had been standing in the middle of the corridor having what could just about pass for a civil conversation though was nearing crossing the line of a very heated argument and the next minute their lips had locked … until a shocked Constance had pulled away and disappeared into thin air.

This was the reason she remembered she tended not to drink often. The booze had a nasty habit of going straight to her head and making her lose her inhibitions. Boosting her confidence and giving her a bravado she never normally possessed, making her say and do things she would never under normal circumstances say or do aloud.

Although she had to admit, it was certainly a new one to add to the rather long list of things Imogen Drill has done while under the influence of alcohol (also known as the list of reasons why Imogen Drill shouldn't drink alcohol). Yes it was something she had never done before; something she had never planned to do, and yet she felt it was something she would quite like to do again.

Ever since she had met Constance she had felt 'something' towards her. She didn't know what it was, but the witch just carried a certain aura about her, not to mention she was incredibly beautiful … and unattainable. Her head told her that Constance the 'Ice Queen' could never love her back in that way, but her heart was telling her different. When they had kissed, she had felt something; and she was sure Constance had as well.

After breaking apart the kiss there had been a moment of silence, and their eyes had met: she had seen that Constance's eyes weren't full of horror; they seemed softer somehow, almost as if there was a certain fear present in them and behind that a flicker of warmth.

Replaying the kiss again in her head she smiled. The way their lips had slowly met; pale colliding with dark burgundy on account of Constance's lipstick. It had been a brief kiss yes; but it had been so intense, and so beautiful. She had never been kissed in that way before, not even Serge could make her feel like that.

Serge …oh god. If he ever found out what she had done, he'd be furious. He'd joked a few times about her having feelings for Constance as she never seemed to shut up about her: whether it was to bitch about her, or to sing her praises. In fact more often than not, every conversation she would begin with Constance's name, and every argument between her and Serge would end in her name as well. When he'd called her on it, she'd immediately denied it, but inside there was a flutter in her heart and a slight hesitance. Did she?

She knew when they had kissed it had been incredible. It had felt wrong partly for a variety of reason: the fact she was with Serge, the fact they were colleagues and female at that; the fact Constance was an all powerful witch and she wasn't; yet it had also felt so right, so natural.

It didn't mean she was in love with Constance though. Did it?

Sitting in the potions lab tapping her long nails against the old wooden desk Constance let out a small sigh and briefly closing her eyes massaged her temples, in an attempt to clear her head, and untangle her thoughts from her mind.

Imogen? She had kissed Imogen? Or Imogen had kissed her? Whichever way she looked at it, it was an utter mess. She bit her bottom lip, something she hadn't done in years as she wondered the best way to go about dealing with what had transpired. At the moment sweeping it under the carpet and acting as though it had never happened seemed to be the most favourable of her options so far, and she imagined Imogen would be the same, and if not would be more embarrassed due to her alcohol-induced behaviour. Wouldn't she?

It was at that moment she realised that she didn't know the first thing about her colleague: they had been working together at the Academy for a good number of years now and could barely have spoken more than a few sentences to each other, choosing instead to snark at each other with sarcastic comments and jibes. What made her tick she wondered?

Before wondering why she was even wondering such a thing in the first place. Surely she didn't have feelings for Imogen. Did she?

Even if she did it didn't matter. It was hardly becoming nor at all appropriate for the Deputy Headmistress of the Academy to behave in such a reckless manner. Nor was it professional. She was supposed to be setting an example to her students, teaching them to be upstanding and efficient witches in the magical community.

Her thoughts were all over the place though and her attempts to untangle them appeared futile. Her head was acting as her logical safety net, but her heart was telling her otherwise; telling her to take that step for the possible chance of love and she didn't know which to listen to.

Had she unintentionally given out some sort of sign? She couldn't work out why Imogen would have kissed her, of all people, when she was supposed to be madly in love with the Canadian Ranger god knows she spent enough time talking about him. It was always 'my boyfriend this' and 'my boyfriend that'. It was then she realised she was jealous, not an attractive quality it must be said.

She prayed to God that no one had witnessed what had taken place in the corridor, if one of the students had seen it she would be mortified and if anyone ever found out: Serge; Amelia; Heckitty …

And yet she had felt something in that kiss; a spark she hadn't felt in a very long time. That spark, unleashing a rush of feelings and emotions as they overwhelmed her and the element of danger that danced in the air made her feel alive inside.

Now she had to ask herself what she was going to do and in all honesty she didn't know.

Constance Hardbroom … even her name sounded magical. That all powerful; stunningly beautiful woman, who had, somehow without even meaning to, captured her heart. She knew beneath the icy exterior, lurked a heart of gold. The ice just needed to melt, or even thaw a little.

Imogen Drill. She couldn't help but smile as she whispered her name to herself. Her complexion so very different from her own; the sun-kissed skin served as the perfect pairing with her cropped blonde hair. Her lips were such a luscious colour; so good to feel against her own.

Both were sitting thinking the same things; not wanting to admit it aloud, and yet not wanting to deny it either.

It was Monday morning and the beginning of another school week. Constance was sat at her desk in the staffroom, her head buried in paperwork as she attempted to block out her own emotions. It didn't do to get too close, if it didn't work out, things would be irreparable, and it wasn't just them they had to consider: there was the well-being of the school to think of.

As Imogen cycled up the sandy pathway leading up to the Academy her mind was still a whirl. She had literally no idea how to play this. Should she say something? Should she say nothing? Walking through the entrance of the Academy she gave a brief nod of good morning at Davina who barely noticed as she was too 'in the zone' composing a new chant.

Entering into the staffroom her heart leapt to see that it was just Constance and her. Alone.

Sitting down in the armchair and taking out her own notes Imogen began to read, or at least pretend to read. In fact she was watching Constance, who in turn was discreetly watching her: neither wanting to make the first move.

Finally Imogen spoke up.

"Good Morning Miss Hardbroom."

"Good Morning Miss Drill." Constance replied, glancing up and for the first time the pair looked each other in the eye. And nothing more had to be said.