A/N: It has been a long time since I have written any form of fiction, and this is my first go at The Worst Witch. I have not watched the show for about 18 or so years, so forgive me if any small details are not accurate. I hope that you enjoy the story, it has been so much fun to write these characters, they are not mine however, they belong to those who created them. The chapter titles are also references to different songs, some relate to the content of the chapter, some merely match the feeling of it. Also, I don't know whether Imogen has family in canon, I just wanted a different reason than 'she ended it with Serge' as why she returned sooner. Enjoy the story. :)
Chapter 1: Not Alone
She had meticulously laid out the remaining potion ingredients from her supply. Scanning the ingredients, Constance Hardbroom noted that her pupils had managed to go through quite the substantial amount of Pondweed this past term. At first the answer as to why this was eluded her, it was, after all, a common enough ingredient to be sure, though hardly used in every potion. She briefly considered the issue and then the answer dawned on her: Mildred Hubble. The girl had a rather unique talent of managing to use too much of one ingredient and not enough of another. The chosen ingredient this term was evidently Pondweed. Constance half wondered to herself whether or not she should consider getting extra for the new term, she ultimately decided that she would not waste more energy than necessary on encouraging Mildred's inability to measure correct quantities.
She worked her way down her list of ingredients, checking their numbers and indicating how much more they would need for the new term. Once she had reached the end of her rather extensive list, she began gathering the ingredients and putting them away into their correct storage vessels. As she did this, a rather raucous sound disrupted her peaceful rhythm, she concluded that it appeared to be originating from outside the castle's walls. Constance set down the newt's eyes she had been stowing, and went to investigate.
As she exited the potions lab and closed the distance between her and the sound, she identified it as a vehicle quickly driving away, paired with the sound of saucepans and metal cups clanging together. She sighed. Miss Drill. Constance vaguely recalled Imogen mentioning she would be spending time with family over the summer break, which had clearly gone as well as expected. Constance knew better to avoid such things, they always ended in disaster. The clanging was getting louder and more frantic sounding as the P.E Instructor of Cackle's Academy reached the entrance to the castle. Constance stood, slightly amused, in the doorway observing the source of the disruption walking closer to her.
Imogen had not yet noticed the formidable presence of Constance Hardbroom - she was too distracted by the situation which had just occurred. Muttering and cursing to herself as she approached the entryway, she soon found she could not proceed any further. She'd hit a wall so to speak. It was at this moment she noticed she was not alone. After taking a step back and managing to look up at the 'wall' she had hit, she felt a little self-conscious and embarrassed about the whole thing. The 'wall' she had hit was Miss Hardbroom.
She looked up after a second or two and said, "Do you mind, Miss Hardbroom," indicating that she would very much like her to move so she could get inside.
"Miss Drill," Constance began, "you have returned sooner than expected."
"Yes. As you can clearly tell by my running into you, I have indeed returned early," Imogen answered, desperately wanting to end the conversation, "now Miss Hardbroom, would you kindly move aside so I can get into the castle." She said, desperately trying to maintain some dignity and composure.
"Certainly," Constance replied, moving to the side of Imogen's path.
Slightly annoyed at how easy that was, knowing how much the deputy headmistress enjoyed pushing her buttons, Imogen rushed passed her and headed straight for her room.
Constance returned to the potions lab to finish clearing up. It ended up taking longer than she had anticipated to finish. Upon reaching this realisation, she noted that next time she would schedule more time to complete the task to compensate. Though she did recognise that it was partly due to the commotion caused by Miss Drill's return that delayed her.
Imogen tore off her rucksack and did not care that it hit the floor with force. She sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her face with her hands. She had calmed down slightly, though the events and emotions of the past week were still fresh. In the back of her mind she had suspected it would end badly. Her family were decent people, and they generally meant well, though their approach needed some work.
She had been to visit her sister and her husband for the holidays, knowing her parents would likely make an appearance at some point as she rarely spent time with them these days, due to the nature of her living arrangements and her work. She had prepared herself for the inevitable questions that came with seeing family after an extended period of time, especially if you were a grown single woman.
Her sister was not as particularly athletic as she was, though they both enjoyed camping and outdoor activities such as hiking and kayaking. Given their shared enjoyment for the outdoors they had gone on a short camping trip during the week Imogen had managed to spend with her family. It was mostly enjoyable, except for the incessant questions into Imogen's personal life (or lack thereof). While her sister did not yet have children, she was at least (in the words of Imogen's mother) married.
Imogen sighed, getting back to the task of unpacking and getting herself situated back into her life. At least here, at Cackle's, no one seemed to care if you were in a relationship or not, or how long it had been since your last one. Everyone just minded their own business (well, compared to her parents at least). Then there was the delicate subject of her work, and where she worked, and why she couldn't talk about it. Imogen was emotionally exhausted after the week that had just happened. She decided her first step into regaining some normality would be to shower.
Constance would be lying to herself if she said she had not wondered why Imogen's early return had been so dramatic, but she decided that she would wait for Imogen to come to her if she wished to discuss it further. She was not going to push the issue. She would not necessarily refer to the P.E teacher as a friend, but they had been improving lately in that there hadn't been quite as much yelling between them. Constance put it down to them getting used to being around each other more. Constance didn't have friends as such, merely people she had learnt to tolerate, or generally considered not uncomfortable to be around. It had taken many years, but she felt this with Amelia and was slowly beginning to feel this with Imogen. Though they still had a long ways to go. Getting too close to people caused one to be vulnerable, and for Constance, that would be unacceptable.
She had been working on preparing new lessons for the upcoming term when Imogen entered the staff room.
"Miss Hardbroom!" Imogen exclaimed, slightly startled to find her colleague here. Though as soon as she had the thought she realised that of course Constance would be here, and felt stupid for assuming otherwise. The woman practically lived in this room when she was not in the potions lab, or patrolling the halls.
"Hello to you too, Miss Drill."
"Sorry, I was just surprised to see you." Again, feeling slightly stupid for assuming Constance would be anywhere else.
"So it seems," Constance replied, simply.
Imogen sat opposite her colleague, and decided to avoid the elephant in the room of her early return, and asked, "What are you working on?"
"Lesson plans, for next term," she answered, "I plan on instructing the girls more in depth on the usage of dry ingredients versus wet ingredients and their differing effects."
"Sounds interesting," Imogen replied, trying to sound like she knew why that was important and what difference it would actually make. She genuinely wished sometimes that she could understand the finer points of the magical world, but had largely resigned herself to the fact that she likely never would.
"I think so. Knowing your ingredients is extremely important when potion making, Miss Drill," Constance replied. She knew Imogen did not understand the concepts she was planning to teach, but she didn't blame her for it, one doesn't get to choose if their lineage is magical or not.
Their conversation paused, as it had not exactly started with a strong foundation. Imogen used this opportunity to make some tea, she desperately needed some. "Would you like a cup too, Miss Hardbroom?" She asked, placing the black kettle over the flame. Imogen lamented the fact that they still could not accept her idea of getting an electric kettle. Constance replied, "Yes, thank you, Miss Drill," handing her colleague her empty cup.
Once the water eventually boiled, Imogen extinguished the flame beneath the kettle and finished preparing the two cups of tea, and brought them back over to the table. She handed Constance hers first and then sat down herself.
Silence permeated the room, as the two women sat and drank their tea. Imogen finally had enough and said, "Fine. I'll tell you why I'm back early," she said, her voice raised slightly.
She didn't approve of gossip, or hearing about people's personal lives, but Constance had to admit she was curious as to the answer to this question, and had not wanted to push the issue, but if her colleague was offering, she would participate in this conversation. "I did not ask, but if you wish to offer up this information, I will not stop you," she said plainly, sipping her tea.
"You didn't have to ask," Imogen began, Constance was looking directly at her, though Imogen sat with her gaze directed at the cup in front of her, "It started off well enough, the camping trip went well, we swam, hiked, and we relaxed by a gorgeous lake," as she recalled the memory of the scenery, she smiled a little, "the problems really started when my parents arrived. We had returned from our camping trip and my sister had invited our parents over for dinner." Constance sipped her tea, listening to her colleague talk, she knew all too well the dangers of family reunions. "They just would not stop comparing my life to that of my sister's, and asking me questions like, 'Oh Imogen why haven't you found yourself a nice husband yet, hmm? Your sister managed and she's younger than you. Surely there's someone out there for you. You just have to make an effort' as if it's easy!" Imogen was beginning to get more flustered as she recounted the conversation, "When I mentioned Serge, they blamed me for not being able to make it work, and it just went on and on. When it wasn't about my inability to find a husband (as if that's the only option and something I absolutely need to have in my life)," Imogen rolled her eyes, "it was questions about the school and when I couldn't give them the answers they were looking for my sister and her husband tried to defend me, but I had eventually had enough and left early. My sister knows about my work and why I can't talk about it, but I haven't dared broach the subject with my parents. They are better off not knowing."
Constance put down her tea cup and reached out her hand and placed it on Imogen's, comforting her. She knew it was not easy for Imogen to tell her all of that, so she did her best to offer support. Imogen noticed the gesture, "Thanks for listening."
Constance nodded, "It's quite alright, I understand how you feel and appreciate that you felt you could confide in me. I understand I am not the most approachable person in the world, and am not most people's first choice for such occasions."
Imogen smiled at her colleague's words and thought to herself, 'You are to me, Constance Hardbroom.' "Thank you," she replied, simply. Showing her appreciation for Constance's words.
