Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch. I only own my OC.

A/N: The systems were down at work during the weekend so I had some time to do some writing. *Yay* This is sort of based on 'How I Met Your Mother' but won't be nearly as complex because let's face it that was some clever show (notwithstanding the writers breaking up my Swarkles OTP!) Constance and Imogen will likely meet early on and it will be more a story of how they got together, possibly with a few pre-meeting flashbacks thrown in for good measure.

*May edit later on*


How I Met Your Grandmother

Chapter 1

Darcey let out a shriek as she lost her balance and toppled off the chest of drawers that she had been standing on in order to reach the top shelf of the wardrobe. Landing with a harsh thud, she swore quietly under her breath, before taking a look around the room at the additional mess she had now created. In a bid to save herself from falling, she had grabbed onto the nearest thing. The nearest thing of course being the shelf itself and, as she had lost the final battle of the equilibrium, she had taken a pile of books and papers tumbling to the ground with her.

With a sigh, she set about gathering up the books so they could go away when, suddenly, something caught her eye. Amongst the classic novellas and old newspapers was a slightly bashed shoebox. Its lid had somehow become dislodged in the fall and, as a result, its contents were now splayed across the carpet.

Letters.

There was a whole pile of them. Each addressed to the recipient in the same — somewhat effortless — calligraphic style.

She traced the elegant lettering with her finger, almost feeling the sheer love emanating through in just the twirl of that one word on the envelope.

Darcey knew that it was wrong to invade someone else's privacy but she had inherited her father's nosiness (or the art of being interested as he liked to refer to it) and, as the letters had already been opened, she reasoned that one could argue she wasn't *technically* doing anything wrong. Pulling a random one from the pile before she could change her mind again, she unfolded it and began to read.

'My darling'

Almost as if on cue, her grandmother appeared at the door, her sudden presence startling the teenager.

"Darcey, honey, I heard a clatter," the older woman explained, "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay?"

"Yes, thank you, Granny. I was putting away those boxes you had asked me to and I sort of lost my balance. It's okay though, I don't think I've broken anything."

The young girl trailed off upon noticing that her grandmother was no longer listening to her. Instead, the older woman's eyes were now focused on the letters. Her gaze trailing along the floor before finally coming to rest on the one that was still in her granddaughter's hand. Darcey could feel the blush of guilt creeping into her skin and wished in that moment that she could just disappear into thin air.

"Sorry, Granny, they just fell out the box and I…erm," she trailed off, not really knowing how to explain herself. Strangely enough though, her granny didn't seem to be particularly angry with her. In fact, if anything, she seemed rather wistful.

"It's alright dear, please don't fret. I'm not angry at you. It's just…its been a while since I've seen those letters; takes me back is all... "

"Are they from Granny Constance?"

Imogen Drill's eyes clouded over as she nodded, a breath of sadness surrounding her as it always did whenever anyone mentioned her late wife.

Darcey hadn't the chance to meet her other grandmother. Sadly, Constance Hardbroom-Drill nee Hardbroom had died not long before she was born and, in the circle of life, just as it was time for her to enter the world, it was time for the once mighty sorceress to leave the earthly plane. She may not have had the chance to meet her but from what she had heard, her granny had sounded like a truly wonderful woman: powerful, intelligent, graceful — not to mention incredibly beautiful: porcelain skin, full lips, long dark hair that streamed down her back, cascading like an inky waterfall. She had seen the picture of her grandparents on their wedding day and what stood out most was the absolute love that was reflected in both their eyes.

"You still miss her, don't you?"

"I do, sweetie, and I always will. Your granny was the love of my life but its like we've always told you and your siblings: she's looking down on us all and watching what's going on."

'Still omniscient even in death,' Imogen thought to herself.

Sensing that her granddaughter wanted to ask a question but was holding back, she gently prompted her, eventually coaxing from her what she wanted to know.

"Do you think she would have liked me?"

"There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind, Darcey, that she would have absolutely adored you. She hid it well — possibly too well at times — but she had such a big heart and so much love to give."

For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of the clock before Imogen once again broke the silence.

"Your mum phoned earlier by the way. They were hoping to set off not long ago so they should be back in about 8 or so hours, give or take. I've told them not to rush back and just enjoy the drive up; maybe even stop for a nice lunch."

Oldest daughter Faith and her husband, Tony, had been away for the weekend, celebrating their anniversary so young Darcey had been stopping over at her granny's house. She didn't mind it at all. In fact, as far as she was convinced, her granny was the best thing since sliced bread, and even now she was in her mid teens and getting 'too cool' to be hanging out with her, her opinion hadn't changed in the slightest. She doubted it ever would.

"Your parents are so lucky, I hope you know that. Not many people meet the love of their life at such a young age and certainly not in the 'eyes meet across the crowded room' kind of way; that kind of thing only happens in the movies."

"Granny?", Darcey asked after another few minutes had passed, "Did you love Granny Constance when you first saw her?"

"Not quite darling," Imogen said, suppressing a smile as she began to gather up the letters all except the one the young girl was holding. "Not quite."

Seeing the quizzical look on her granddaughter's face, she sighed.

"Tell you what, since we've still got a good while until your mum and dad are back, why don't we head downstairs, make some hot chocolate and I'll tell you the story."