Miss Hardbroom was always a difficult customer and you never knew where you were with her but this time around, it was particularly problematic. This was marshmallow soft Hecate as no one had ever seen her. Dimity was of the impression that Miss Hardbroom had hatched out from a basilisk egg once upon a time and had learned to cope with the hissing glares and the severe tone but this was a whole new game.
Hecate spun around with a rose in her teeth like a flamenco dancer, skirts flaring and hair twirling. Dimity tried to reason with her but got smacked in the face with a rose for her troubles. Trailing it down her face, Hecate looked at her with a glint in her eye and Dimity felt a flash jolt between them. She kept her cool but found it hard to concentrate as Hecate flicked her hair and flounced off.
Dimity unhooked her mind from the unforeseen charm of Miss Hardbroom, unfurling like a flag in the breeze and tried to restore order. This was the worst thing to happen since Miss Cackle had to face the firing squad right this minute. Having to rugby tackle her colleague to the ground was mortifying enough but then this was Miss Hardbroom, terror of the school. With hair that smelt like lime blossom. That was distracting.
The rush of relief she felt when Miss Hardbroom walked from behind the pillar back to her normal nasty self washed over her like a cold shower. It was a sign that everything was going back to normal. But she'd never forget the day that Hecate Hardbroom had turned into this wild gypsy creature, those unusually tactile fingers pressed against Dimity's lips. Cool, slightly roughened fingers. Not unpleasant in the least.
She would never see the woman in the same way again. And she'd steer clear of roses.