Disclaimer: If I owned it I wouldn't be doing Chemistry exams!
A/N I felt so happy and jolly that I had FINALLY done my Chemistry exam that I decided to write a Fanfiction ('bout time!)… in my head it was happy but now it just looks morbid… MEH! I'm still happy so! ENJOY!
Constance Hardbroom had always been a woman who prided herself for her ability to be a pragmatist in the heat of a bad situation. A perfectionist. A traditionalist. Anyone who knew her as the deputy head of Cackle's academy would know that her long dark hair would always be scraped back into an immaculate bun no hairs dared stray from; her elegant swan like neck would be hidden by the high collar of her concealing black dress and her demeanour would be a no nonsense, straight backed woman who took pity on none as she stalked through the hallowed corridors of the castle.
I won't be satisfied with okay
She wouldn't accept failure in the hands of someone capable enough to create masterpieces. People believe she once hated a girl named Mildred Hubble… this I can tell you my friends is a lie. Speaking from experience, I can tell you that Constance, if anything, wanted Mildred to do nothing more than excel. She wanted the girl to come to her for help instead of failing herself. What you must understand is that we cannot force a student to ask for help and pleading is as fruitless as making them eat the literature they study. You understand… don't you?
And I can't be okay with alright
I may not know much, but I know a fighter when I see one. Constance is what you would call… well… there are no words to describe her but you get the idea. She was never one to back down in the face of danger; she'd do anything to protect this school and the people behind its ever decaying walls. But even I would sometimes find myself looking back and questioning her actions. She gives off the aura of not caring but if I'm honest, and I'm nothing if not honest, she was like a person who'd lost something she couldn't protect, like a guard who'd failed his assassinated princess.
So point me to the edge of life
I'll stand up on my toes
No matter what life threw at Constance, she always seemed to be nothing but professional. Whirlwinds, fires, Agatha, misshaped potions… Heckitty. I suspect there's some history there, I mean, she may hide behind that mask of indifference but deep down I know she flinches at the sound of the woman's name, I can see it in her eyes sometimes when it's just us in the staffroom. I can't be sure what exactly happened between them, but it must have been horrific if the woman scared even the great HB.
Stretch my fingers out to there and bring it back here
Despite everything, the arguments in the staffroom, the quibbles over students and uniforms, she was always the glue that held this weird little family together. What most people don't understand is that witches lead a lonely life. We cannot make friends or fall in love as easily as non-witches; we'd leave ourselves open to too much ridicule and mockery and despite how happy we may seem, it hurts… some are just more capable of hiding it than others. Constance falls into this category. Instead of showing her fear or tears in public, she pours her heart and soul into keeping the family together and giving the girls a better life than she ever had. The girls could never understand this.
It's too important for us to forget
We'll unify our thoughts
God will hear and save
God will hear and save us
We witches don't believe in a god. Oh, don't get me wrong, some of us believe in a deity of some kind but I myself believe that someone watches over us, but they're not dressed in fancy white robes or outlined in gold… quite the opposite actually. Truth be told, no one knew Constance as I did, how could they? After all, some creatures of habit are best observed at night and only those who observe closely could witness the real Miss Constance Hardbroom, the woman behind the invisible barrier. I have seen many things in my long life but never have I seen such a woman in deep despair when she thinks she's alone. She can detect the students that hide away in the darkness of the shadows but she never senses me, I've learned the tricks of the trade too well… thought sometimes I wish I hadn't.
All together standing up on our toes
Reaching for the very thing I don't know
I'm always there, watching the tears as they fall… so close I can almost touch their wet trails. Sometimes we talk about her, the other staff I mean. We grasp at different concepts about Constance's life but not one of them know about her existence at night and I'd never betray her by telling them… they mean well but I know Constance well enough by now to know that she's a deeply private person. For example: when her mother died, none of us knew anything about it until about 3 months later, which was only by chance when we were trying to find out if there was a next of kin. We're all here for her but it's the same situation as she had with Mildred… if she needs help she must come to us first, if it were the other way around, she would be scarred off and it's taken us this long to even get a conversation out of her.
So catch it as it pours
We know what we need
Don't get tired when you're running back to show them
I'm tired now. I get that a lot, they all think its stress… they think I'll have a nervous breakdown… but I won't… I'm not ill. People may think I'm eccentric, but surely this letter will have proven my sanity? My ability to be sane?
I don't plan for anyone to actually read this; people have better things to do. I myself am only writing this because right outside the door, sitting at the staffroom table, is the sleeping form of Constance Hardbroom, her tears long since shed. It's become a ritual now. She'll fall asleep at this table once a week then wake before the dawn… it proves that we aren't so different afterall. Neither of us can rest in the sanctuary of our designated quarters, it's here… where people actually eat, talk… live. It's here that brings us peace.
Perhaps in some way, she knows I'm here… perhaps that comforts her somehow.
It's too important for us to forget
We'll unify our thoughts
God will hear and save
God will hear and save us
My name is Davina Bat. Many people think I'm just the crazy old woman who lives in the cupboard and has panic attacks for no justifiable reason… have no doubt, that is who I am but what people don't know is that I'm also a watcher. I can see the people for who they are instead of who they pretend to be. I could tell you many things about the people I work with that most people would never guess: Amelia's fear of temporal anomalies, Imogen's secret jealousy of every child with magic coursing through their veins even Mr Blossom's secret love of Mrs Tapiocas pasta… or more importantly Mrs Tapioca herself. All these things I could tell you and more… but the one that's intrigued me more, the one that never wears her heart on her sleeve for all to see or speaks of her past is Constance. The rest talk to themselves but Constance seems to even be ashamed to speak her problems aloud to herself.
It's too important for us to forget
We'll unify our thoughts
God will hear and save
God will hear and save us
To the chanting teacher who will soon take my place, never underestimate the feelings you're colleges have for someday you too will know the things I know and you too will have to keep them a secret no matter how much you think the people would be happier with their problems in the open. Some may forget my presence here, see it as a nuisance that's a blessing to be without but I'll remember these people and this place. I'll always remember.
I hope to write more fanfictions soon but I cant make any promises. Chemistry is first and foremost on my list of important things :D