Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Worst Witch'

A/N: Hello! Its been a while, yes, but I've finally found some time to write the third of my series. *Yay* If anyone is still reading, lol, hopefully chapter 4- which if I remember my notes, should be 'Failure' - won't be as long a wait. :)

Chapter 3

Fine

Her hand hovered over the door handle with a seeming reluctance to enter the room.

Chastising herself for her cowardice, she took one final breath, in a bid to keep her composure intact, before she reached out for it again. This time her grip was much more forceful out of a fear she would change her mind, and turning the knob she strolled into the staffroom with a bundle of folders tucked neatly under her arm. The confidence practically exuded from her and to look at her you would never have been able to sense the terror that was currently bubbling through her veins; hidden beneath the surface.

Almost immediately, she could feel the kind eyes of her superior on her and could feel the overwhelming concern that was emanating from the older witch and had been since yesterday morning, since the reveal. Up until now, she had more or less managed to avoid her. Pretending instead to find some task to busy herself with or inventing excuse after excuse anytime Amelia had tried to talk to her about the reaction she had had in the staffroom upon hearing Heckitty Broomhead's name and had tried to gently press for the reason behind it, but now she could avoid it no longer.

The day of judgement she had dreaded since leaving witch training college was almost upon her and the events of the past was not a conversation she was prepared to have just mere hours before her former tutor was set to arrive, if ever.

After all, where and more importantly how would she even begin such a conversation...?

The words failed her and the thought alone terrified her. It more than terrified her. The idea of having such a conversation, of imparting such horrors, of dragging everything back up from where she had buried it...

No.

Yet, that kindly gaze remained upon her.

It was a simple action and a rather discreet one too; there was no exchange of words between the two, merely a silent understanding. It was a conversation that shook her defences, threatening the very foundations of pretence she had built, weakening her resolve and leaving her teetering precariously on the edge, just awaiting that final push before she toppled and fell, but for a moment, just one fleeting moment, the child in her took comfort in that gaze.

Having someone care about her was still such a foreign concept; it was something she didn't think she would ever get used to, having been denied such a luxury for such a big part of her earlier years. The little girl in her took solace in the affection being directed towards her but to look at her, you would never have guessed.

There was nothing.

Not even a flicker of emotion was present and her hardened eyes gave nothing away, except from an empty gaze.

They couldn't afford to.

She couldn't allow for anything to shake her focus, for anything to distract her; it just wasn't an option. Somehow, she had to survive through the next few hours of the day - a day that was sure to drag by so slowly it would feel as if time had just stopped. The task ahead was by no means an easy one and it was taking every ounce of strength; mental, emotional and physical, that she possessed to continue to stand there and play the part and not to just drop the bundle of papers on the floor there and then, disappear into thin air and never return.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't considered it.

In fact, she'd by lying if she said she wasn't still considering it right at that moment.

Her mouth was dry and she felt absolutely sick from a combination of nerves and fear and it was only worsening as her emotional turmoil heightened and the hour came upon her. She had sat for hours the night before and hadn''t slept a wink; instead she had simply watched as the hands of the clock had ticked round and around, watching as time had passed, as the hour had neared and with every second she had spent watching those hands it had made her head spin. A hurricane spinning through it as it had thrown everything up into the air, causing confusion and leaving her with a dilemma; a choice and even now, in the moment, she still wasn't 100% sure that she'd made the right one.

'Should I have ran when I had the chance?'

'No, Constance. Stop it! You are not going there...'

There was still time to leave, technically, she still could but if she were to then she would never forgive herself and Amelia, dear sweet Amelia, Amelia who had treated her like a daughter from day one - after everything she had done for her, how could she possibly just throw it back in her face like that? How could she abandon the school; her home, when they needed her most?

The answer was she couldn't.

It was the right thing to do.

"Good morning, headmistress"

"Good morning, Constance."

Silence fell and it hung between them, the words were in the air; desperate to be voiced but neither could utter the first word. Their eyes met but Constance stared her out, forcing Amelia to break eye-contact under the intensity of the glare coming from the younger witch. She sighed, almost inaudibly and pretended to be adjusting the papers on her desk, her fingers playing with the edges, as she struggled to find the right words to ask the question she wanted answered.

Amelia had promised herself that she wouldn't ask but she couldn't take it any longer. She opened her mouth but the words never came out for Constance knew what the words were going to be before they had even left her employer's mouth; erasing the need for the question to be asked in the first place.

"I'm fine." she answered, calmly.

Lies.

It all lies.

She was far from fine; she knew it and she knew that everybody else knew it too but still the words slipped from her tongue with a perfect ease.

'I'm fine', it was her go-to phrase; a defence mechanism built up over the years. It was a way of stopping the questions, a way of silencing the truths that threatened to spill from her lips and dismissing concern when the pain in her eyes couldn't fully be disguised. It was her way of maintaining a strong front whilst she crumbled inside; it was her way of surviving...

...and those words, used so frequently and executed with such precision, were almost believable...almost.

She practically crawled out of the office, finally granted a reprieve from one of Heckitty Broomhead's 'little chats.' Those 'chats' were Heckitty code for an unrelenting torture. One designed to instil discipline...allegedly. Just over a week, she had now been at witch training college and she had already sustained more injuries in that short space of time than in her entire life, thus far.

Her every nerve ending was on fire; every muscle screaming out in agony at the even the slightest movement, fresh waves crashing over her with every step she took, making the short walk down the corridor seem more like a marathon - one she was never going to finish.

Still, she knew she had better move sharpish before anyone clocked the state she was in and had a chance to get suspicious.

She started down the corridor, being sure to keep her head down so as to avoid eye-contact with anyone she passed. It was a tactic that was working – until she walked face first into someone and sent both herself and them crashing to the floor. She was frozen to the spot for a few minutes before she slowly looked up, terror running through her veins as she prayed to whoever was listening, that she had not just crashed into her personal tutor. Luck was on her side.

For once.

She breathed an internal sigh of relief upon coming face-to-face with Miss Pondweed, her spells tutor.

"I'm so, so sorry." She garbled as she quickly got to her feet to help her tutor up, ignoring her body as her muscles screamed out in protest and trying to control her vision as the floor dipped and swayed beneath her feet.

The woman, who was clearly about to chastise her, stopped herself as she took as closer look at her student.

"Are you alright, dear?" The concern in her voice was apparent.

Constance looked at her with watery eyes "...I'm- she-"

She broke off abruptly as soon as she noticed that Heckitty was making her way up the corridor and was heading towards them.

"Ah, Miss Pondweed. I've been looking for you; can I please have a word?"

"Certainly, Heckitty."

As she ushered the teacher into her office her eyes met with Constance, making one thing quite clear to the young witch.

She was in big trouble.

After what seemed like forever, and after a never-ending trek through the college halls, she reached her room and struggling with the catch a little, finally managed to slide it across and she was no sooner through the door, when she practically fell.

Throwing a hand out and against the wall to steady herself, she wrapped the other around her aching ribs and bit down hard on her lip, silencing the screams that were threatening to escape as she managed to straighten up. She turned around, with the intention of going to the bathroom to try to clean herself up a bit, when all of a sudden, the air around her got cold; very cold.

She barely had time to react and she felt the wind knocked clear out of her as she was slammed into the wall and pinned up against it.

Heckitty ignored her whimpers and cries as she grabbed for her wrist; twisting it up behind her back.

"Who's going to believe you?" The word 'you' was practically spat, making the young girl feel even more worthless than she currently felt.

She said nothing.

"Hmm? ...and even for some mad reason if someone did...do you know what they would think?" Her grip tightened as her sharp nails dug into the young skin, breaking it and drawing blood. "They would just think that you were a useless, pathetic witch...a disgrace to her craft."

Constance shook her head, tears starting to stream down her cheeks from the pain; from Heckitty's words; from feeling so alone.

"Oh yes," The tone was sickeningly sweet and tinged with a hint of malice. "...and then nobody would want anything to do with you."

"That's not true."

"Do you really want to risk that?"

"N-n- no." she whimpered.

"N-n-no." The tyrannical tutor echoed, mocking her charge.

"I've warned you about that infernal stuttering, girl!"

Heckitty's grip tightened again; so strong that she felt the circulation leave her arm. "When someone asks if you are alright, what do you tell them?"

"I'm-" The rest of the sentence was lost as it came out an inaudible squeak."

"You've got until 3."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Thr-"

"I'm fine," she choked out the words, internally pleading for her to stop "I tell them that I'm fine."

"Just make sure you do because believe me girl, you don't want to even know what will happen if you EVER tell them any different!"

"Constance, are-"

"I'm fine, Amelia. Really, I'am."

'I have to be.'