Hello people!
This is a very special fic dedicated entirely to Princess Sammi for her birthday *waves and offers cupcake with lots of icing and a candle* and she said that I should publish it so voila!
Just a one chapter fic (though a bit long lol!) so hope you enjoy and big hugs again to PS :) Happy birthday hun.
Her first happy ending
Love is an emotion of strong affection and personal attachment.
When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness.
A loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge.
At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.
A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea.
Xxx
Everything was overwhelmed by silence. The entire world seemed caught in a moment, lost in one simple second which stretched across an expanse of a hundred years or more. Life was still. The cheerful warbling of the birds had faded to nothing, the rustling hedgehog frozen as still as sculptures of glass which seemed so vulnerable that they could shatter at the lightest touch.
The sky was no more than a perfect blank canvas. The sun had long since conceded defeat and retired, old and weary, to a haven behind the blanket of cloud. It had done its duty, given life and warmth to everything that it had sworn to protect for the rest of the year, and in these last months of winter it could rest until the cycle began once more.
The first flakes of snow were lingering in the air, threatening to cover the frosted ground with its gentle embrace. Trees shivered in the frosty wind, bare branches cracking as they too grew old and wishing for the jubilance of the coming spring. Winter was harsh; like a knowing woman, it was cruel and unforgiving with no concept of mercy. Yet the beauty of it, the untainted natural beauty of life as it passed through the year's last season, was so breathtaking that the Earth could do nothing but stop for a moment in appreciation.
Xxx
The castle was strangely empty, the once bustling corridors now vacant with only the ghost of laughter echoing in the wake of those who had left. In the days before Christmas, the staff of Cackle's Academy always met to discuss the plans for the upcoming term and seized the opportunity for a little self indulgence in the company of friends.
The staffroom was usual a dreary, functional place yet in the spirit of the season it had been transformed. Branches of holly with the brightest red berries had been scattered across the long table, garlands of tinsel attached to every wall and burning candles filling the room with the festive scents of cinnamon and mistletoe. On every available surface stood an elaborate display of cakes or minced pies arranged decoratively on a stand, and in the cupboard where Miss Bat usually hid was the special bottle of vintage wine only opened on Christmas Eve.
Miss Cackle stood looking out of the window with a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Although the cold breeze wafted in through the glassless windows, it was a refreshing feeling and one which caused her heart to tingle. Christmas was a special time, something sacred held not only in the rituals of present giving and a turkey dinner but of the time of year when things were coming to a close and new doors were preparing to open.
Announcing her presence with a tuneful humming, Miss Bat entered the room almost skipping across the floor with a spring in her step and her heart. To her, there was magic in the air and the happiness everyone always felt in the last days of December was intoxicating, infectious even. Already an excitable woman, Christmas turned Davina into a new and more wonderful creature than ever she was before.
Amelia turned her head and greeted her colleague with a warm and inviting smile.
'Merry Christmas Davina,' she said brightly.
'Actually,' Miss Bat proclaimed, 'in the pre-Christian era, Christmas was celebrated as the ancient pagan festival of Saturnalia.' Amelia often wondered whether her scatterbrained colleague realised how everyone saw her, but with a chuckle she realised; she simply didn't care what others thought.
'Well then, happy Saturnalia!'
Miss Bat walked over to where the headmistress was standing and adopted her gaze out of the open window. Absent-mindedly, she adjusted the conducting baton which was slotted through her untidy bun as her thoughts were left to wander.
'I love this time of year,' Miss Cackle told her wistfully, 'everything seems so...serene. The world just appears to be so quiet and peaceful it's...it's almost...'
'Almost magical,' finished Davina quietly.
'Yes,' Amelia agreed, allowing her eyes to become lost in the window's view.
'There is just one thing that I can't stand about the Christmas season,' Davina announced bitterly. Miss Cackle looked at her with a puzzled expression. She had always imagined that Christmas to Davina would be like the epitome of everything she loved, an excuse to be as she was normally but on a completely new level.
'What is it?' she asked inquisitively. Davina turned away for a moment and when she came back into view, she was twiddling a thin branch of holly between her fingers.
'The plants!' she exclaimed, with a touch of that familiar friendly madness glaring in her eyes. 'They're completely inedible!'
Amelia could not stop herself from bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, a roar barely stifled by the back of her hand.
'Oh my,' she managed after some time, 'Miss Bat, are you sure that you are not completely crazy?' Davina nodded almost aggressively, though a smile had found its way across her lips as well.
'Absolutely sure,' she assured the headmistress, 'I'm definitely not crazy...my mother had me tested!'
'Have you seen Constance about?' Miss Cackle asked when she had finally regained her composure. With a purposeful wave of her hand, she lit the dark and lonely fireplace which sprung to life at once, filling the room with its dazzling heat.
'Not since I arrived yesterday,' Davina answered, thinking back. 'The meeting isn't until this afternoon; perhaps she isn't here yet?' Amelia shook her head sadly.
'No, she is definitely here. She always stays here over Christmas, even when the weather is awful and there is no-one else around; I don't think...' The headmistress started, wondering whether it was her right to go on.
'That she has anywhere else to go?' Davina interjected, her usually manic voice containing such an overwhelming sense of kindness and understanding. Nodding, Miss Cackle forced a feeble smile.
'She says that it helps her to work when no-one else is around, and I suppose that's true but I can't help but get the feeling that she's avoiding some-'
Amelia's concerns were silenced as Constance appeared in the room by the urn, her arms folded and her expression giving nothing away. The headmistress felt her heart beating loudly beneath her ribs, her mind racing with guilt and adrenalin like a naughty pupil caught doing something she shouldn't. Everything they had said was true. It was no lie, not even a secret; but Amelia knew that she would be mortified if Constance had heard. And even if she didn't show it, even if she kept her feelings to herself, no-one wanted to be talked about in such a way behind their back. Miss Cackle knew that had Constance heard, then it would hurt her and that broke her heart more than anything.
Taking the cup of tea she had just made and preparing to leave, Constance looked up at the headmistress. Amelia stared into her usually unfathomable dark eyes, and could swear that for a second she saw something shimmer there. Whether it was fear or sadness, anger or indifference, it made her throat dry as she tried to swallow.
'Miss Drill has just arrived,' she announced in a business like voice, before tilting her head upwards slightly and disappearing from view.
Amelia and Davina's eyes caught each others' gaze and they both wanted to ask the same thing, but each suspected that they already knew the answer.
Xxx
Constance's room was dark even in the morning's new light, without even a meagre candle to break the icy coldness which seemed more prominent even than the chill of the bitter outside air. Looking down at the tasteless black tea she had just made, she felt her stomach turn. With barely a flick of her fingers, it vanished in a small puff of smoke leaving behind it only the distant scent of tealeaves.
She had heard it. Every word. The art of appearing in a place yet not truly revealing yourself was one Constance had mastered of her own accord, possibly even invented, after learning all those years ago how to travel by self-teleportation. No-one could fathom how she did it, one of the many great mysteries which surrounded her life; it was as much a curse as an ingenious solution. You often heard what you didn't want to hear, the truths meant with kindness which only stung your eyes in fear.
Sitting at her desk Constance forced her mind to become clear, pushing everything which invoked her imprisoned heart to feel what she couldn't bear to feel out of her thoughts. Pulling a fresh piece of paper towards her and conjuring a pen from nowhere without the need even to wave her hand, she ordered herself back into the structured silence of work. She was barely three lines into her most recent paper for the Witch's Guild concerning the study of one of her experimental potions, when she was forced to stop.
A drop of water had landed on the paper, smudging the still drying ink which ran like a teardrop down the page until it had wreaked its own small havoc. Letting out a small sigh of frustration, Constance watched another drop taint her calligraphically perfect hand and create another river across the page which was beginning to look like the cracked dry earth of a scorching desert.
She looked up to see whether a leak had sprung in the roof above her head, yet she felt something soft running down her cheek. Putting hand lightly to her face Constance realised that, despite herself, the water droplets were in fact her own tears. It was the strangest sensation. She could feel no sadness pulling on her heartstrings, no rage or feeling of betrayal from the people she could almost call friends. Her soul simply felt empty, her heart indifferent to the words which were no worse than those she had heard before.
Or was it worse, by far more painful, just because she had placed a certain amount of her greatly valued trust in her colleagues, particularly in the headmistress who she saw as the closest thing she would ever have to a mother? Constance rarely allowed herself the luxury of emotion, choosing instead to remain objective with her heart locked away where it could not be scarred again; she feared that her much-despised feelings were beginning to bleed through.
They didn't know; how could they? She had never even mentioned his name let alone imparted the truths of her past to people she knew yet could not truly know. Throwing down her pen aggressively, Constance allowed her head to sink into her hands; she didn't need to glance at the calendar on the wall to know that it was the 23rd of December. It was a day etched into her soul, a day she could recognise just by the way her heart ached and broke all over again just through remembering.
It had been the day that her life had ended, and her current meaningless existence had taken its place.
She could feel eyes watching her. Her cheeks burned with the knowledge that another person was looking at her, taking in her features whilst they thought she wasn't looking. Constance rested her head on her left hand as her right scribbled at a speed faster than lightning, her thoughts falling effortlessly from her mind onto the page before her; yet she was distracted. She knew already that she had answered every question with better than textbook answers, giving constructive arguments supported by evidence and introducing her own methodology; she didn't even need to hand it in to know that she would get full marks.
Constance could read the feelings of everyone else in the room without even the need to look up. They were panicking, trying to remember what they had learnt and finish the last question before the time ran out; whoever was staring at her, she thought as she skimmed through her conclusion for the fifth time, had no fear. She could already read them like a book, yet her heightened ability to sense the conscious mind was working in overdrive to try and work out this person's intentions which seemed unfathomable.
After losing an argument with her curious mind, Constance allowed her eyes to dart up from the page and scan the room with a single glance. Their gazes locked at once, and something which felt like a surge of electricity passed between them. His eyes were kind and inviting, so deep that Constance swore that she was falling into them and every dark thought she had stirring in the back of her mind was instantly forgotten. For one blissful moment, she was lost in a world where nothing else mattered; no-one else existed but them.
Pulling her eyes away, Constance tried to concentrate on her work once again but found that her heart was beating too furiously in her chest. She cursed herself, even muttering beneath her breath, for being so overwhelmed by something so utterly ridiculous; yet nothing could get the image of his face to leave her confused and struggling mind.
His dark hair, which seemed a shade too long, persisted to fall across his eyes and his confident, self assured smile told everyone that he couldn't care less. He was tall, but slumped in his seat with his head resting on his hand as his impossible sparkling eyes gazed at the only thing in the world worth looking at.
Twice every week, the witches and wizards from their respective colleges who were considered the highest achieving in their subject met for an advanced class at the Witch Training College. The first day that he had set foot in the witch's college, a tall dark and handsome man with a smile which could charm the snakes of southern India, Jack Elderflower had caused quite a stir. With an arrogant grin he had watched the other women giggle as he walked passed and whisper in his wake, yet he had never felt anything towards them.
From the moment he had walked into the potions laboratory and seen the most beautiful and fragile flower, his eyes would wander nowhere else. He had caught her eye for a second as she had taken a seat at the very back of the room and it was as though she had taken his every breath from him. He couldn't speak, couldn't think of anyone but her and although you would never know it in his boyish grin, Jack lived for those 3 hours every week where he could see her face again.
This had been the first time she had ever noticed him before. He knew her name, as did everyone in the school. She was the brightest spark, the silent genius who had begun her training not three weeks ago yet had already excelled past the top of every class despite her young age. When people looked at her they saw brilliance and a strict, disciplined work ethic; yet Jack suspected there was so much more beneath the surface. He had known, as if it was a fact only obvious to him, that she was the person he would give his love to and he could only hope that she would be brave enough to accept his in return.
The bell rang and Jack felt his heart sink. He handed in his test, two pages scrawled in five minutes yet enough, he knew, to pass. Constance rushed from her seat with a heightened pace and placed her eight page paper on the teacher's desk before half running out of the door. Jack could feel it, the pull which told him he had to talk to her. A soft, encouraging voice in the back of his mind told him:
It's now or never.
Constance walked quickly down the corridor, almost certain that she was being followed. It didn't quite invoke fear, something she almost never succumbed to, but the knowledge that she was constantly under surveillance unnerved her to the point where her heart was starting to beat faster than normal beneath her dark velvet dress. She let out a frustrated breath when she saw the boy, whoever he was, jog to catch up with her, his hands deep in his pockets.
'That was quite a hard test,' he stated, knowing full well that she was aware of his intentions.
'Was it?' Constance replied in a severely unimpressed tone of voice.
'Well,' he continued, feeling more degraded with every second in her presence, 'some people thought so.' He was trying not to burst into a run just to keep up with her verging on ridiculous pace. She was as tall as he was and emitted an aura of danger, an impression that if anyone dared to go near her then they would suffer her complete unyielding wrath; he suspected that it was the defence of someone who didn't want to let their heart get broken.
After an awkward silence, Jack allowed his mouth to run away with his thoughts. He thought that if he didn't say it now, then he never would.
'What are you doing later?'
'Working,' she replied bluntly, though Jack could sense the most subtle and underhand note of amusement in her reply. It would never be that easy.
'Ok,' he tried, 'tomorrow?'
'I am working,' she repeated in the same monotone voice.
He let a smile creep across his face, one so infectious that Constance's own lips almost curled into a mirrored grin. She didn't want to feel anything. She wanted to be repulsed at the thought of someone watching her and thinking about her in a way which went against everything she believed in; she couldn't help herself. Part of her was indeed horrified, but Constance felt strangely comfortable in his presence despite his motives and although she would of course turn him down, found herself being rather flattered that someone had actually noticed her; just the thought made her blush.
'Saturday then? Come on, nobody works on Saturday nights,' coaxed Jack with a winning smile to match his impossibly bright eyes. She stopped suddenly, turning to him in a very final gesture.
'On Saturdays I attend tutorials all day,' she said gently, trying to hint at the fact that she would not give in with a subtle tone of voice.
'Ah,' he replied, getting the hint but choosing to ignore it, 'who did you get as your personal tutor? I hear Miss Henbane is a bit of a miser-'
'Hecketty Broomhead.' She saw Jack's face fall slightly, the glint in his eyes replaced with something else, something deeper and more genuine.
'Is Saturday you first one?' Constance nodded with a fixed expression, even though her fraught mind was running into overdrive. To her, it almost felt like he could sense her fear.
'I could meet you after' Jack tried once more, 'you might find that company is the best cure after...after a long day.' She had to admire his persistence, and he definitely got points for trying. Constance was surprised when a flicker of a smile passed across her face.
'A nice thought, but I don't think so,' she assured him lightly and turned to walk away, leaving him staring after.
'You don't even know my name,' he called playfully, delighting in the impression he knew that he had made.
'Why would I need to?' she called back without even turning to look at him.
And with that, she was gone, and his heart was left pining.
Xxx
He had been waiting in the shadows for over an hour, pacing in the moonlight and muttering what he was going to say to her under his breath. There had been many times when he had decided that it wasn't worth it, that she wouldn't want him there anyway, and he had turned to leave; he had never made it to the end of the corridor.
In the fingers of his left hand, Jack played with a single blood red rose. It felt silly, childish even, but he couldn't help it. He had encountered women in his past, girls he thought that he had cared for; this felt like so much more than that. She invaded his mind, the slender curve of her body and the shining perfection of her face an image which was there whether his eyes were opened or closed. Constance, a name of such beauty to match her own; he would have given anything to call her his.
Staring at the watch on his wrist after more time had passed, Jack's brow wrinkled. It was after midnight, long after the time which normal tutorials ran on until. The majority finished around 9, with some lasting longer for the keen pupils; this was unheard of. He had been waiting more than three hours, and though he would have waited years to see her face again the fact that she had been gone for so long worried him.
There was no way that she could have left the room without him seeing her...or was there? Had she realised that he was waiting and merely vanished as he had seen her do before to reappear in her room away from him? It hurt his pride to think that she disliked him so much, to the extent that she would actively avoid him. She wouldn't be that cruel...would she?
Jack was seconds from throwing the fragile rose to the floor and walking back to his halls of residence, tail between his legs, when he heard the great oak door's hinges scream. Feeling his heart pound in his chest, Jack couldn't shake the smug smile which had found its way onto his face; she didn't hate him. It was a start, to say the least.
When she appeared, her form like a ghost in the darkness of night, Jack's expression fell through the floor. Her hair, usually tied back in a neat bun or clipped away from her eyes, hung loose and matted over her face. Closing the door, he saw a flash of purple on her wrist as her long sleeve fell back and he could see that her eyes were red from where she had been crying.
'Constance?'
She jumped, not expecting to have to deal with another's company.
'Oh,' she said quietly, 'it's you.' She pulled her hair back from her face and waved her fingers gracefully, so that her ebony locks tied themselves into a loose bun on top of her head. Despite her red eyes which darted to the floor and refused to hold Jacks' gaze, she seemed perfectly fine. Jack knew this couldn't be true. He had seen a flash of fear, something he had never expected to see in such a strong woman's eyes, and though she tried to maintain her perfect posture something told him that she was in pain.
'You have to leave,' she whispered, though her voice held none of its usual conviction.
'Yes,' Jack agreed with friendly sarcasm in his tone, 'I am going to leave you here and just walk away as if nothing happened. What do you expect me to do?'
'I expect you...' she started forcefully, though her words became lost. 'I expect you to trust me when I say that I am fine.'
'I would,' Jack told her gently, 'but I am afraid that I don't believe you.' Constance offered no reply, but cradled her left hand in her right as if she was in agony that she would never speak of.
'Just let me walk you back to your room' he offered kindly. Constance shook her head at once.
'I couldn't,' she said simply.
'Yes you could,' he argued. 'I won't ask anything. I won't even say a word if you don't want me too, but I am not going to leave you here like this, whether you like it or not.'
How easily she conceded defeat concerned Jack further, though as promised he said nothing. He noticed a slight limp in her walk, which was clearly slower than her normal pace, and wondered what that evil woman had done to her in there. How could anyone be so cruel? There were assumptions made about Hecketty's teaching methods, dark rumours whispered when only those who would never tell could hear. Was it all true? Without saying a word, he offered her his arm and very reluctantly she took it. Constance didn't want to admit anything, at least not aloud, but she could not deny the tired ache which consumed her like fire and made even walking the few corridors to her room painful.
'Are you going to be all right?' he asked her when they finally arrived at her door. Even when in distress, she still moved with the grace of a goddess. Her eyes met with his for the first time that evening. They were such sad and lonely eyes.
'I have to be,' she replied softly. Her hand brushed lightly against his as she released her arm from his grip and she could have sworn that something with the power of electricity jolted through her body.
'Thank you, Jack,' she added, with the hint of a genuine smile.
'I thought you didn't need to know my name?' he laughed as she disappeared behind her door.
'I have always known it,' Constance teased before closing the door behind her.
Xxx
Jack almost skipped to his last lesson of the day, and one of his favourites of the week. Advanced potions had become considerably more interesting since his attention had swayed from the magical properties of herbs, and he could not help but spend his lessons dreaming about her. She sometimes caught his eye, betraying a forbidden smile if only for a second. He was biding his time. Constance was a very complicated person, one with depths he knew that he had not earned the right to reach yet and he feared she could easily shatter if pushed too hard. It had been two weeks since they had last spoken on the night she had smiled at him for the first time, and he had wanted to give her time.
Taking his seat, Jack watched the rest of the class file into the room with an eagerness that was almost animalistic. He longed to see her, to catch her smile if he could and he knew that even the fact that she was there with him would be enough to make his heart skip a beat. The door closed as the teacher entered, but Constance was not there.
The witch at the front of the class began to call the register and Jack's heart stopped within his chest. She had never been late for a lesson before, yet her desk was empty; why was everyone avoiding looking at where she was supposed to be.
'Const-'the older witch started, though caught herself as if realising something. 'Oh,' she managed, gulping before moving onto the next name in the register.
Something was wrong. Jack could feel it, and he wasn't about to sit around waiting when everyone else seemed to know. Without a word, he rose from his seat and simply walked out of the classroom with his bag slung over his shoulder. Ignoring the calls from the teacher which died away as his pace quickened, he knew the only place his feet would take him.
Throwing his bag down carelessly in the corridor, Jack reached the door of Constance's bedroom in a secluded wing of the castle where spiders fled at his unwelcome presence. His heart pounded in his chest, a voice in the back of his head asking him constantly if it was the right thing to do.
He knocked three times loudly on the door and called to her.
'Constance? I know you're in there,' he shouted, hitting the wood hard with his fist until it shook on its hinges. Reason was lost, rationality long gone from his thoughts; all he needed to know was that she was all right and then he would say no more.
The empty silence which answered his calls was not enough. He stood back a few paces and pointed his hands at the door, forcing it open with the magic crackling at his fingertips. He was not used to using magic in the more conventional way, without the aid of a staff or wand, but the anger and fear inside him was powerful enough to channel his power through his hands.
The door crashed open and Jack heard the smallest squeak from inside, a sound so vulnerable and fragile that it tore his heart from his chest. He ran into the room, barely the size of a broom cupboard for all that was squashed in there, and saw a sight no-one should ever have to see.
Constance was stood beside her bed, bent double from the pain of simply standing and holding desperately onto the rusting iron frame to keep herself from falling. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, half covering her impossibly pale face. A cloth which had once been pure white was strewn on the bed, covered in the deep scarlet of misery. Jack felt tears he had not known for what seemed like a lifetime burning his eyes as he watched her for a moment, trembling and gasping for breath.
She could hold on no longer. Her grip loosened on the bed frame and she could do nothing to stop her slow and painful descent to an unyielding ground, the world around her fading to a blur. But the cold crash of the floor never came. In its place, her broken body fell into strong, warm arms which held her close as she tried to open her eyes and regain any form of strength she had once held.
Holding on to her saviour for dear life, Constance managed to pull her mind from the brink of unconsciousness and her eyelids flickered open. She looked into his face, losing herself to those deep and soulful eyes. It felt right. She couldn't describe it in any other way. Constance had always been so strong, someone who kept their emotions away from prying eyes where they couldn't be hurt; she felt, for the first time, that this was the person she could give them too. He would keep them safe, her heart alongside his forever where it would be safe. Her mind told her not to tell him, to impart the burden of the terrible truths which existed when she was alone with Hecketty Broomhead, but her heart was willing.
'Was it her?' Jack asked, his voice shaking with a deadly cocktail of rage and fear. 'Did she do this?' Constance could only nod as tears spilled down her cheeks and her chin wobbled. She looked down to the floor, ashamed to be admitting that she was weak and pitiful, but she felt his hand tilt her head so that their eyes met again.
'It's all going to be ok,' he assured her gently, 'I'll make sure of it.'
'How?' she whispered. 'There is nothing that you can do. She has so much influence; it's as if she has control over everyone. She says...she says that I could be a great witch, but all sh-she does is p-punish me. I don't even know what I've done wrong.' Constance gave a sudden gasp and leant into Jack further as she clutched at the stabbing pain in her side. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, Jack pulled her into comforting embrace which she needed more than he would ever know.
Constance looked up at him again. She knew, without a doubt, that he would be the one thing in her life that she could depend on. His eyes were honest, loving even though they barely knew each other and ready to listen. Before she knew what was happening, their lips met and she felt his hand pressing her gently to his body. Her instincts, at first, told her to pull away and run as far as she could; for some reason, she didn't.
The moment lingered, a few perfect seconds in the darkened chasm of her life; she could swear that, somehow, she was feeling happiness for the first time in a very long while. When they broke apart, Constance felt no regret as she had thought that she would. Her heart fluttered, the pain which had penetrated every fibre of her being forgotten as she savoured the feeling of letting go of everything.
Jack didn't quite know what had just occurred before him. He wondered if he was taking advantage of her, a lost soul in need of someone to assure them and not to take liberties; yet he felt like this meant so much more. He had known that she was special, since the very second she had caught his eye, and even with her porcelain skin streaked with the remnants of tears she was beautiful.
Unable to deny her body's weakness anymore, Constance went limp in Jack's arms. He sat her down on the bed beside him, allowing her to curl up and rest her head in his lap as she drifted off to sleep. He stroked her hair, staying with her and just watching her sleep for what could well have been forever. There was nowhere else he would rather have been. He swore in that moment to protect her, and stand by whatever hardships she would suffer at the hands of that callous woman. Jack dared to think of a future, one where they could be happy together until they grew old still holding one another's wrinkled hands.
Xxx
Sitting at her desk in the small apartment that she called home, Constance looked through the many letters which littered the wooden surface. Her gaze wandered to the sparkling Christmas tree in the corner, small and crooked yet a symbol of the life she had never before dared to hope for; she allowed a smile to creep across her face.
Pulling her coat tighter around her freezing body, Constance shivered. The room was so cold that it penetrated every cell of her body, the hairs of her arms standing up on end. Since leaving the Witch Training College, life had not been as rewarding as she had hoped it would be. Mistress Broomhead, disgusted that her protégée had no desire to do the great things she had planned for her, had refused to give her any form of reference and finding a job was proving difficult despite her high level of qualification.
Jack had been having an even harder time than she was. He wanted to work on experimental potions, to discover new things and use his knowledge to help people who would otherwise go without. Constance had seen what the frustration had done to him, the fact that he had such good ideas yet could do nothing with them, and it saddened her. She didn't mind their simple life, with no heating in winter when the snow fell thick and fast but enough to survive on; all she wanted was him and he was pulling away from her.
Her smile faded. She looked over the acceptance letter she had been hoping for more than any other and felt a pang of guilt in her heart. Constance had finally found a school, a witch's boarding school called Cackle's Academy, who were looking for a potions teacher and had fallen in love with it the first time she had walked through the front gates. She had known before she had even met the headmistress that this was where she wanted to work, and when they had offered her a job she had written a letter of acceptance at once. The only thing which kept her from posting it was Jack.
She didn't know why she thought that he would be upset by the news, but Constance refused to accept the position until she was sure that he supported her. He had been there for her ever since they had met three years earlier and she had no reason to doubt him, yet a voice in her mind warned her to take care.
Jack came through the door with a beaming smile on his face. He walked over to Constance and kissed her passionately, whispering 'I love you' in her ear as he had done when they had first been together at college.
'What has gotten into you?' she asked half-amusedly as she watched him pour himself a large glass of red wine and drink heartily.
'What,' he asked with a grin, 'can I not be happy to see my beautiful girlfriend after a long day's work?'
'You can, but I still say that something has happened,' Constance reasoned wisely raising an inquisitive eyebrow, 'what is it?'
'Oh all right; I got a job!' he cried, laughing as he finally got the chance to say it out loud. Constance leapt to her feet and flung her arms around her joyous love, dancing in celebration with him.
'What is it?' she asked.
'It's amazing Con,' explained Jack, his arms resting on her hips, 'they have asked me to lead the new experimental remedy team! It's the job of a lifetime, more than we ever could have hoped for.'
'That's brilliant,' Constance said beaming, 'when do you start?'
'Just after the New Year, but we'll have to put the house on the market-'
'What?' Constance inquired at once, pulling back from his embrace and demanding the full truth from his reluctant lips.
'Well that's the only thing Con,' Jack started nervously, 'the job is in America.'
Her heart stopped. She couldn't believe what had just come from Jack's mouth, the words almost offensive as they replayed over and over in her mind. She backed away a few steps and began to shake her head slowly.
'Just hear me out,' he added quickly. 'The company are going to pay all of the costs of moving over there and are giving us living costs as well as a high end salary. We don't have to live like this anymore, we can have the life we always wanted!'
'And what is wrong with our life now?' Constance asked him.
'Nothing, I-'
'I like living here,' she interrupted. 'I like having to use a thermal spell to stop ourselves from freezing half to death, and not having enough money for a proper Christmas tree. All I ever needed was you, and that's all I want now.'
'I'm not going anywhere,' he assured her in a soothing tone.
'And what about me? What will I do?' Constance tried to stop tears from forming in her eyes, though she felt them stinging her. She didn't quite know what it was; maybe she knew what was coming.
'You can find a teaching job,' he suggested, 'there are schools in America you know.'
'Yes,' she conceded, 'but I have a job here. Cackles' have said that I can start there next term.'
'I'm sure that there are other jobs Con,' Jack said dismissively. That hurt her more than she let on.
'You know how much I want this,' she answered quietly.
'And you know how much this means to me,' Jack insisted.
'So I have to give up my dream so you can have yours?' Constance shouted, allowing a tear to escape from the corner of her eye. 'I have to give up everything, the life that I have made here and everyone I know, so that you can be happy?'
'Don't be like this,' Jack tried to reason, though he could sense that this was a battle where no-one would win or lose but everyone would get hurt.
'What am I supposed to be like? What am I supposed to say?'
'You're supposed to say yes!' Jack screamed back at her, his tone louder than it had ever been. He had never raised his voice to her before, and it caught her off guard.
'If you loved me, you would come with me,' Jack said finally, his chest heaving. Constance wiped furiously at the tears which were now flowing freely down her face.
'If you loved me,' she whispered, 'then you wouldn't ask.'
There was a moment of the most dark and desolate silence, the empty room feeling colder than the winter had ever been before.
'Is that it then?' Jack said harshly after some time. 'Is this how it's going to end?' Constance suppressed a gasp. She had never thought, never even considered...
'It doesn't have to end,' she replied, horrified.
'I have wanted this for so long,' he told her.
'I know.'
'I thought that you would support me.'
'I do!' Constance insisted, moving closer to him and putting a hand on his arm. 'But you have to realise what you're asking of me. There are other ways to get what you want, there will be other opportunities.' Jack shook his head and pulled away from her touch.
'Are you sure?' he asked her one last time, begging for her to change her mind. 'Because if you are, then I'll leave now; don't think I'll come back.' She knew. She knew with those words that their life together had ended. The man she had met three years ago, who had saved her in so many ways, would never have said such a thing. Standing back she nodded her head and without another word, he left.
She cried for days. She didn't even leave the house until she had packed up her few belongings, ready to move into the staff quarters at Cackle's Academy on New Year's Eve. Constance had hoped, more than she had ever hoped for anything in her life, that he would come back for her. She had sat in silence watching the door, her heart skipping a beat every time she heard a sound in the corridor, though to no avail.
She didn't even cast one last look around the place where her happiest and darkest days had played out, leaving only a pot of blackened ash where the Christmas tree had once glistened; a happiness she had thought would never die.
Constance walked into the staffroom for the meeting, though was surprised to see that only Miss Cackle was present. She inclined her head slightly in greeting and moved to sit at her usual position at the dining table in silence.
'Are you all right, Constance?' Amelia asked, knowing already what the answer would be.
'Perfectly, headmistress,' Constance answered, her muscles stiffening, 'why do you ask?'
'It just seems as if you are a little...out of sorts. With it being Christmas, I would have thought most people would be of a slightly happier disposition.'
Constance sighed.
'Not everyone regards Christmas as a time of happiness, Miss Cackle,' Constance explained, betraying only a hint of emotion. 'It is can also hold great sadness.'
Amelia opened her mouth to inquire further, sensing a tragedy which needed to be spoken of in her deputy's words, but was interrupted by Miss Drill who opened the door looking rather flustered.
'Constance,' she said sharply, as though she was at the end of her tether, 'there is someone here to see you and he will not take no for an answer.'
At that moment, someone pushed past the disgusted gym mistress and stood in the open doorway staring at Constance. She had known, somehow, from the very moment Imogen had entered the staffroom. His hair was flecked with grey, lines she had not seen before across a face which she knew so well, but other than the unkindness time had done to him he was exactly the same. Those eyes were still as she remembered: deeper than a bottomless well and even now, after more than fifteen years, they tried to tell her the feelings of someone who had only ever loved one woman and only ever could.
'Constance,' he stuttered, slightly taken aback by the sight of a face he had dreamt of for so long.
'I'm sorry,' Amelia managed, 'but who exactly are you?'
'Jack, Miss Cackle, Jack Elderflower.'
'And Jack was just leaving,' Constance said curtly, her eyes betraying no hint of the emotion which was slowly tearing her heart in two. How could he do this? It had been so long since she had last had to see him, and a cacophony of confused feelings battled in her chest. She could not deny that she thought of him often. Every time Constance saw a Christmas tree she remember the hours they had spent laughing as they tried to balance the crooked, dying branches with baubles; they were the best days of her life, until they had burnt to ash. This couldn't be happening now, not on the very day...She couldn't let him see. He could never know how much she still meant to him.
'Con please-' Jack tried, years of words unsaid threatening to burst from his chest.
'No,' she half shouted at him, her eyes burning with rage fuelled by the sadness which still enveloped her soul.
'Just...just give me a chance to explain,' he said persuasively, 'and then if you still want me to leave then I will go, but I'm not going until I-'
'Oh all right all right,' Constance gave in, knowing that he would not go until he had said his piece. Folding her arms, they both disappeared from the staffroom leaving Imogen and Amelia lost for words.
'What just happened?' Imogen asked, perplexed at the unusual events which had played out before them.
'I think the term is unfinished business,' suggested Amelia, moving to the armchair closest to the warming fire and collapsing into it heavily.
'Well whoever he is,' Miss Drill continued, going to make herself a cup of tea, 'he better be careful; I haven't seen Miss Hardbroom look that angry in a very long time.'
Xxx
Jack and Constance appeared in the courtyard, away from prying eyes though in the unyieldingly bitter cold of a winter's afternoon. The first flakes of snow were starting to fall from the virgin white sky and they settled lightly on the ground. Jack shivered at the sudden change in temperature, though he watched as Constance refused to even acknowledge the freezing air. He wanted to take her in his arms, more than he had ever wanted anything, but he knew that he needed to give it time; a lot had happened in fifteen years.
'Well?' Constance demanded, refusing to look the man before her exactly in the eye and staring instead at the frostbitten stone.
'I...I'm so sorry,' he whispered, finding tears forming in the corners of his eyes. The words were so simple, not enough after so much time, but they held more meaning than anything else he can managed and even Constance could not deny the emotion with which they were spoken.
'Yes, well,' Constance replied quietly, 'that doesn't change anything, does it? You can be sorry, you can beg for forgiveness, but it won't change the fact that you l-left me.' She turned away from him slightly, surprised to find tears which she had refused to acknowledge for so long returning and her voice cracking with emotion. It still hurt.
'I never meant to hurt you,' Jack assured her. 'I know how stupid I was; I didn't realise what I had and that I didn't need anything more, but I always loved you. I still-'
'Why?' Constance cried out stopping the unspeakable words from falling from his lips, words which she was not prepared to hear.
'Why now?' she continued. 'You knew where I was, you know how to find me; how has it taken fifteen years to say that you are sorry?'
'I could never bring myself to,' he confessed. 'I considered it a hundred different times, I even walked to the village nearby twice; I couldn't bear to see you after what I had done. I should never have left, I know that now, but please...I haven't stopped thinking about you this entire time. There was never anyone else, no-one could replace you in my life. When I came back from America-'
'So you did go?' Constance cut in scathingly, their last conversation in the apartment playing over in her mind. 'I can't say that I am surprised.'
'I had no choice,' he said quietly.
'You had every choice!' she shouted, turning back to him to stare into his face with her sad and swimming eyes. 'I asked you not to force me to make a decision and you couldn't do that, so you left me all alone at in an empty house and I never heard from you again.'
'I didn't have a choice because when I came back you had gone!'
Constance froze, the only sound she could hear the whistling of the unrelenting wind pulling at her hair as time stopped and her world fell apart. He hadn't come back, he couldn't have. She had waited for him, watching the door for hours...It couldn't be true.
'I...,' she tried, but words were lost. Her fragile expression begged for an explanation.
'On New Years' Day, I came back to the house with a bunch of red roses and an engagement ring, only to find that you had left,' Jack explained, his throat constricting as memories washed over him. 'I was stupid enough to think that you would be waiting for me, and when you weren't I...I assumed that you didn't want to be found. I took the job in America and tried to forget you; only I couldn't. I came back here three months ago and I have been trying to pluck up the courage to meet you again ever since.'
It was a truth she had not been ready to hear. He had come back for her, a dream she had thought too good to be true, and fate had pulled them apart in the space of a few hours. If life was kind, he would have caught her before she had the chance to leave and then maybe she would have been a different person. Having your heart broken changes you. Constance knew that she was cold, untrusting because the pain of broken loyalties was something that she could not bear to suffer again; it was the price she had paid for trying to be happy. In her misery, she had become someone she had never intended to be.
Jack moved closer to her, until they were just inches apart. He took her small, bony hand in his and felt her tremble; she didn't pull away. His eyes pulled hers until their gaze locked, the thing that she had fallen for so many year ago still present in the fire that burned between them. He kissed her. She wanted him to. Unable to stop herself, Constance felt her body move into his and when their lips met it was as if time had rewound and all of her life's injustices had been undone. A solitary tear fell down her face as his hand moved up and his thumb stroked her cheek; it was too good to be true.
She pulled away, her eyes glistening like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. Constance began to panic, each quickened breath not enough to calm her. This wasn't who she was anymore.
'I'm sorry Jack,' she whispered, holding back the tears which continued to fall, 'I can't.' His hand touched her arm.
'I love you,' he said, his words holding such truth that she had no choice but to believe him, 'I always have and I always will. Please...' Constance jerked her arm away and shook her head, brushing a strand of loose hair from where it had fallen across her pale face. Looking at him one last time, as if stealing a final glance at a forgotten dream, she folded her arms and disappeared leaving him standing alone in the first snow of winter.
Xxx
Amelia knocked gently on the door to her deputy's bedroom. Although unable to hear what was being said, she had watched the altercation in the courtyard through the window of the staffroom and knew that Constance, even if she would not admit it, was in need of a motherly shoulder to cry on.
Although she received no answer, Amelia made the brave decision to enter the room anyway; the door was unlocked. Constance was sitting perfectly straight on her bed, staring out of the window watching the snow fall. Her expression was blank, unreadable; there was no way to describe how she was feeling.
'Constance?' Amelia started gently, sitting next to the deputy headmistress who did not even acknowledge her presence. 'Are you all right?'
'No,' she replied simply, admitting for the first time in her life that she was in fact not as infallible as most saw her to be.
'Is he gone?' the headmistress asked gently. Constance nodded slowly.
'I told him to go.'
'Why?' Amelia couldn't understand why a woman who deserved it so much would turn away a second chance at happiness.
'Someone once told me that love was for the weak,' Constance said, remembering the night Hecketty had discovered her relationship with Jack; she still had bore scars on her arms.
'Oh no,' Amelia assured her, shaking her head, 'love is for those brave enough to realise that they deserve to be happy.'
'I couldn't,' whispered Constance, dropping her head so that she was staring at the hands folded neatly in her lap. 'I'm not the person I used to be, he wouldn't...if he knew how I am now-'
'Then he would feel only what he has always felt,' Amelia answered wisely, placing a reassuring hand on her deputy's arm.
'It's preposterous,' Constance said suddenly, 'I'm hardly the sort of person you would cast in an epic romance.'
'Give me one reason why not.'
'Just look at me,' she replied sadly. She could never see herself as beautiful.
'I am,' Miss Cackle said, 'and all that I can see is a beautiful young woman who won't admit that she's in love.' Constance looked at her gratefully, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. She had let everything go, the barriers which had locked away emotions she had not wanted to confess to crumbling to dust; it had always only been a matter of time.
'I don't know what to do,' Constance admitted finally.
'Maybe you just have to ask yourself...could you live your life happily knowing what you could have had?'
She opened her mouth to answer, but the reply she had suspected to form at her lips wouldn't come. Amelia patted her arm lightly and left her with her muddled thoughts; she didn't know what to think anymore.
Xxx
The next morning came after a night without sleep, tossing and turning whilst her thoughts refused to settle. As dawn broke on Christmas Eve, the world was as much of a mystery as it had ever been and Constance had no idea what to do with her life. She could go after him, find out where he was staying and tell him the truth...though she didn't know whether she could bring herself to say the dreaded words. She hadn't said them in so long.
The fact was that he was gone, again; no matter how much she pondered her actions, she did not know where he was. Part of her wished that he had fought harder for her, refusing to leave until she swore to him that she didn't feel the same way; it wasn't something that she would have been able to do. If she had seen that fight, that spark of passion which told her he was being honest and true, then perhaps she would not be doubting her own feelings in the dim light of morning, wondering whether she would ever recover from her emotional quandry.
Getting up from the meagre comfort of her bed and wrapping the black dressing gown around her thin waist, Constance vanished from her room and reappeared in the vacant staffroom. She suspected that the other teachers had left the castle; it was Christmas Eve and everyone else had places to be, families to love now that the staff gathering had been cancelled. She still had no-one.
Hearing the door open, Constance turned on her heel to see who it could be. Her hopes were somewhat dashed, which she cursed herself for greatly, to see the headmistress poking a smiling face around the door.
'Oh,' she said, trying not to sound as unhappy as she felt, 'Miss Cackle. What are you doing here? I would have thought that you had gone home to your family yesterday.'
'They can wait another day,' she smiled. 'Constance, have you looked outside?' Constance raised an eyebrow.
'No...why?'
'I think that you should see this.'
Amelia led a rather reluctant Constance to the front door of the school and waited, the smile almost sickening on her face, for her to open them. Sighing heavily, Constance waved her hand carelessly so that the great oak doors swung open. She was not ready for the sight which appeared before her.
The entire courtyard and surrounding forest had been covered in a blanket of soft, fluffy snow about three inches thick. It was beautiful; dawn's first light cascaded from the weak but well meaning sun so that the snow glistened like jewels. But that was not what caught Constance's eye. A path had been laid out, made from hundreds upon hundreds of fresh red rose petals leading from the door to Walker's Gate and beyond. Opening her mouth to speak, Constance realised that there were no words for what she was thinking. Amelia beamed at her.
'Go.' It was all that she needed to say.
Ignoring the freezing cold, Constance stepped out onto the snow in her purple slippers and followed the petals. She could hear her heart pounding against her chest. She had no idea what she expected to happen, or what she expected to find; all she knew was that her future depended on where this path took her.
It wound past Walker's Gate and into the forest, through an archway of trees which seemed to bow to her in the gentle breeze. The petals came to a clearing and then stopped abruptly, with nothing and no-one at its end. Constance stood for a moment, utterly confused by what was happening. She could see her breath in the stagnant air.
He walked through the trees like a God, the only man she had ever wanted to see. He smiled meekly at her.
'I didn't know if you would come,' Jack said sheepishly.
'I'll always come,' Constance whispered. She felt tears caress her cheeks as they moved towards each other.
'I love you.' The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them and she gasped as she heard herself say them. Jack only smiled.
'I love you too.'
They fell into each other's arms, a passionate embrace as the sun rose above them. Their lips met, their bodies entwined as they each gave into almost two decades worth of love. They had missed so much already, so many wasted moments that they could have shared together; now they would not waste a single second.
It would be the first of many Christmases Constance would find she could no longer spend alone.
Xxx
The last January snow was beginning to subside, rivers of water trickling down the trunks of trees as the harsh ice blankets melted in the bright sunshine. The castle was once more buzzing with life, the gloomy shadows and wispy cobwebs blown away by the sheer force of adolescence. As nice and peaceful as an empty school could be, it was never at its prime unless filled with bright young minds with the eagerness of innocence.
Miss Cackle walked through the sea of girls flooding the corridors as they arrived on their broomsticks and found sanctuary in the courtyard where only the last few students were coming in through Walker's Gate. The bitter cold of winter was slowly relinquishing its hold, and although her cheeks were rosy and her breath a puff of smoke in the air, Amelia could not have been happier anywhere else. She couldn't break the smile that had formed across her face. It was like a permanent fixture, a sign of the true contentedness which had enveloped her soul and there was not a thing that anyone could do about it.
Davina walked outside, rubbing her arms in response to the sudden chill of a new year's air. She stood beside the headmistress and watched the skies, as though fascinated by the common sight of witches flying their broomsticks.
'Well,' she proclaimed loudly, breaking the calming silence, 'I suppose it's a new start for everyone in a way.'
'Yes,' smiled Miss Cackle knowingly. 'Have you seen Constance yet?'
'No, I assumed she had arrived already. Is she not here?'
'I don't think so,' Amelia remarked, though she was far from worried. Constance had a new life, a new beginning at her fingertips; had it been her, she wouldn't be in any rush to give it up for a term of teaching either.
As if she was summoned by the mention of her name, Constance's broom appeared over the top of the trees as if from nowhere and she landed gracefully on the stone cobbles.
'You have to wonder how she does that,' Davina whispered and Miss Cackle responded with a soft chuckle.
'Many years of practice, I suppose!'
Having landed and put away her broom in the shed, Constance folded her arms and vanished with a brief whip of her dark travelling cloak, the last thing Amelia saw before she disappeared.
'I wonder if this year will be any different,' pondered Davina. Amelia shook her head lightly.
'The world could stop turning and Constance would always remain the same; it's just the way she is!'
Constance walked confidently out of the main doors and into the cold morning air, though inside her heart was bubbling with insecurity. She could see girls staring at her and whispering; in moments it would be across the entire school and she would, after all this time spent building a reputation for herself, be forced to start from scratch once more.
For once in her life, she didn't care what people thought. Of course this was a slight overstatement. Part of her would always care a little; it was in her nature, how she had built her life since she was a child. But unlike every other day of her life, she didn't depend on how she was perceived and even though she was reluctant to admit it she had changed. She knew when, she knew why, and she knew without a doubt that it was for the better. Walking up to the headmistress, Constance took her position to welcome the first years that would shortly be arriving through the front gates. Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt her colleagues eyes take in what they had never suspected to see.
With her travelling cloak hung upon the staffroom pegs, Amelia could see the living proof of a contradiction to her earlier, assured statement. Constance's hair was shorter, resting just below her shoulders and rippling in waves like a dark gentle ocean. For the first time in all the many years she had known the younger woman, her dress was neither black nor threatening to choke her with its unyielding grasp.
The purple silk shimmered in the dawn's light, reflecting the sun's rays like untainted ice and the neckline was not plunging, but far from the restrictive collar which had once been Constance's only style. Perhaps the most surprising thing was the length. Bobbing just an inch below her knees, though her legs were covered with dark tights and high boots, it gave away more of her body than Constance had allowed anything else to. A black shawl covered her arms and even though she had never permitted herself to think it possible, the only one who mattered to her had told her that morning that she was beautiful; for the first time she had dared to believe him, if only for a second.
Amelia could not hide her surprise, and even though she tried she knew that it was written all over her face plainer to see than the words on a letter or the paint on a canvas.
'Constance...' she started though as soon as the word escaped her lips, her mind went into overdrive trying to think how best to handle a very delicate situation.
'Yes, headmistress?' Constance answered calmly, folding her arms across her chest as she had always done though perhaps a little less tightly than she used to. A flash of light reflected from one of the fingers of her left hand as she crossed her arms and though her expression gave nothing away, within herself she was smiling like a love-struck teenager.
'Happy New Year,' Miss Cackle managed finally, her sparkling eyes saying all that was needed to be said yet went unspoken.
'And to you, headmistress,' Constance replied with the rarest of genuine smiles before she averted her gaze to watch for the arrival of the students.
Amelia turned to Davina, who was sporting the same startled expression that she knew was apparent across her own face.
'Who'd have thought it?' she mouthed with a grin. Davina returned the smile and whispered,
'It's a Saturnalia miracle!'
Xxx