AN: So...something a little bit different! In my mind this was just going to be a tiny little one-shot but...who knows...
"Constance, are you almost ready to go?" Imogen panted as she dropped her heavy rucksack and her winter coat by the door.
Constance looked up from her book, giving a curt nod while pointing at her small bag, to indicate that she had packed her things.
"You should put your coat on, though," she said, "It'll be cold on the broom in this weather"
Over the preceding days, the weather had definitely taken a turn for the more wintry, strong winds swirled around (and indeed, throughout) the castle. Under normal circumstances, Constance would have decided against travelling in such wind, but this journey was necessary. This Christmas she would sacrifice her traditional solitude, and fly off to meet the family of the woman she loved more than anything else.
"They -" she paused for a second, wondering whether or not to proceed, "What do they know about me? Do they know about us?"
"No, well, not exactly," Imogen fiddled with the zip on her jacket, desperately hoping that Constance would understand, "My brother knows but the others – especially my parents – please, Constance, we agreed before that I'd introduce you as my friend. I'm sorry, it – that's just how it has to be"
"It's alright," Constance reassured her. She was well aware that the non-magical population could be rather less accepting of each other.
"And er – you teach science, not potions. None of them know that you're a witch so...just be careful, yeah?"
"Are you asking me not to use magic?"
"No! I...just please be careful, Constance," she took hold of the witch's hands, "I love you so much, and I wish that you could really be a part of my family. I want them to like you."
They landed under the cover of the woods, a few streets away from where Imogen told Constance they were heading. Constance understood why. In fact, it had been her idea. After all, when one is pretending not to be a witch, it wouldn't do well to make an entrance by swooping down from the sky on a magic broomstick...
"Are you forgetting something?"
Constance looked around, wildly. "What?"
"Broomstick?"
"Ah." She swiftly turned it into a large umbrella – a much less suspicious thing to be carrying around in winter.
"Are you kidding me?" Imogen giggled as her companion looked around in confusion again, "You did – you – Constance Hardbroom, when we went camping, did you turn your broom into a brolly and tell me you'd left it behind?"
Constance made a strange movement like a cross between a shrug and a nod.
"You sneaky little liar!" Imogen teased.
"That was a long time ago," Constance replied, "And you believed it – why would I ever leave my broomstick behind?"
As they approached the house, Constance felt a sudden wave of fear and dread. Any time she had ventured out of the magical world she had been accompanied by at least one other witch, and she had certainly never set foot in a non-magical household before. She really didn't know what to expect. Already she could see the glow of a blaring television through the window, which Imogen cheekily ran up and tapped on, waving excitedly to someone inside. As the front door swung open, she realised that it was too late to change her mind.
A woman appeared that looked incredibly similar to Imogen, only slightly taller, much fatter and with longer blonde hair.
"My sister, Andrea," Imogen finally introduced them after hugging her sister for what seemed like an eternity, "Constance, my – friend"
She almost pulled Constance into the house, slamming the door behind her.
"Go in the sitting room," she whispered, gently prodding her, "It's ok"
Constance cautiously entered the room. Imogen's sister had re-taken her spot on the sofa, staring avidly at the television. There was a sleeping granddad in the biggest armchair, and at the other side of a large table, two children building something. She felt oddly claustrophobic.
"Did you bring presents, auntie?" one of the children yelled as Imogen entered the room behind Constance.
"I gave your presents to Santa," she called back, grinning, "He'll bring them at Christmas but only if you behave yourselves!"
She walked across and ruffled the old man's hair to determine whether he was really asleep.
"This is my dad," she said, chuckling, "He always has a nap after his dinner!"
Imogen noticed Constance's awkwardness but didn't know how to deal with it. Perhaps she hadn't thought this through enough – she hadn't ever really pictured the formidable yet forlorn witch as someone's auntie or daughter-in-law or even as a family friend.
"Imogen!" said her sister, "Get your big backside out of the way of the telly!"
"Says you," Imogen retorted, poking her tongue out at her older sister, then grinning at Constance, who still stood there looking slightly shell-shocked, "Come on, come and meet my mother"
Constance followed Imogen into the hallway, half-wishing she could be back in the cold but comfortable confines of Cackle's Academy.
"You alright?" Imogen whispered, gently nudging the witch's arm, "I know this isn't really your comfort zone, but at least we're together for Christmas, right?"
Constance braved a small smile. The kitchen door opened and Imogen jumped away from her as though she had been shocked. A woman that could only be her mother emerged with her tightly curled greying hair, the floweriest tabard that ever existed, potato peeler in hand.
"Oh hello, dear!" she said happily, "I thought I'd heard your voice, I've just been peeling veggies for tomorrow, and this must be your friend – Constance, isn't it?"
Imogen looked expectantly at Constance, who quickly realised she was supposed to speak.
"Yes, um, I'm, I'm Constance," she stammered, "Nice to meet you er...Mrs Dri-"
"Oh, no, dear, you must call me Martha; I shan't have formalities in my house!" The woman grinned manically – Constance could tell where Imogen's smile came from. "Now, into the kitchen, I won't have the pair of you standing in the hallway like a pair of hat-stands," she glanced up at Constance, "Not that you're not tall enough to be a hat-stand, dear, why are you so tall?"
Constance noticed her height more as she walked into the kitchen. It was less traditional that she had pictured, but cosy, and much nicer than the sitting room...
"I don't – I guess my parents were rather tall" she looked at Imogen as if to ask why she was being asked such a thing.
"Don't guess dear," Imogen's mother scolded, "You either know or you don't. And Imogen, don't stand in the corner all the time; it's not good for you."
Constance looked perplexed as they were being fussed over. Imogen buried her face in a hand and it was unclear to Constance whether she was hiding embarrassment or laughter.
"Oh my dear child, you look like an orphan, look how pale and thin she is, Imogen!" Constance tried to back away as the woman attempted to pinch her cheek, "Don't worry dear, I'll feed you up nicely."
"Mother, leave her alone," Imogen groaned.
"Mother-leave-her-alone?" she mocked, "You jealous little thing, don't worry your pretty-sweet self, I'll feed you up too, dear! Now, your brother is messing around outside, so you can go and say hello, but I want both of you girls back in here in a few minutes to help with the sprouts!"
"Ugh, sprouts!" Imogen wrinkled her nose, "Nobody eats sprouts, mother!"
The garden was several times larger than the house, and Imogen led the way to a large tree which shielded them from the view of the house. She took Constance's hands and pulled her into a short but passionate kiss.
"I'm sorry," she breathed, resting her head against the witch's, "I always forget how embarrassing they can be!"
"You're worth it," Constance whispered, returning the kiss.
"Ooo," a voice teased from the other side of the tree, "Immy and a woman, underneath the tree, doing what they shouldn't be"
"Jonathan!" Imogen screeched, grabbing his jumper and wrestling him to the ground several feet away from the tree.
Constance could only assume that the young man Imogen was now sitting on was her younger brother.
"Jonathan," she snarled, "Don't you dare say anything like that in front of mum and dad, you know how they are! Don't you dare! You promised me you wouldn't say anything!"