Hellooo again :) Cookies etc. and sorry for the wait again, this chapter has been more than a nightmare. I decided to publish what I have so far and put the rest into 4, which WILL be up soon; I hope :)

Let me know what you think as I never know if it is any good *hides from NCD's pillow*

Enjoy :)

Chapter 3

Night drew on, the twelfth moon which had risen since Constance had last felt the deep calm which came with sleep shimmering eerily between the darkened clouds. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as though it would provide the answer to the questions which ran through her buzzing mind. That feeling which knew no satisfaction and only unquiet was ever present in her mind, and even in the confines of a locked and protected room with only an open window to connect her to the rest of the world, she felt as though someone was watching her every move; every time her chest rose and fell she wondered if someone else could see her and this sensation only deepened with every silent waking moment dragging on as though it could last forever.

Constance had many times before challenged her own body by dismissing the need for sleep, busying herself with things which she deemed far more immediately important than the human weakness which she hated to admit was necessary for survival; but this was different. Never had she gone so long and relied so heavily on Wide Awake Potion, something which had required her to very reluctantly swallow her pride. She was distracted, irritable and she could tell that others had noticed; she didn't know what to do, or what was causing such an unusual phenomenon, and that was what stung her most of all.

There was a last resort which she had been putting to the back of her mind for many days now, but as she felt her head tighten and her eyes burn with the yearning for rest she realised that it was her only remaining option. Taking a deep breath, Constance adjusted her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, channelling her magic from its usual hold in her fingertips to the centres of her mind. She used its great power to manipulate her brain, forcing herself to be pulled into the murky realms of slumber. It was dangerous, very dangerous, for a witch to use her magic to manipulate her mind and she knew this, but she felt that she could go on no longer with the feeling of insufferable weakness which had gripped her body for far too long.

As she was pulled into the unexplored horizon of the unknown, she dreamt of a girl who she knew all too well. It was a memory she had not called upon for years, lying dormant in the back of her mind like a sleeping lion; and now it was ready to roar. It did not seem like a dream, the sensation of everything around her too real and vivid for her own imagination yet Constance knew that it could not be real; she could not live through this again.

Standing on the bridge, she could feel the harsh cold wind biting at her cheeks and tugging her long dark hair away from her pale face. The sky was grey, a blank canvas offering no light as she looked across in horror and anguish; this could not be happening. The thoughts of a fifteen year old girl came rushing black like flood waters breaking over river banks, the insecurity and fear that Constance did not know that she had experienced. She heard herself talking, begging and pleading until her voice was lost to the bitter wind and tears which were strangers to her now fell softly down her trembling face.

Constance was pulled back into the waking world with violence, sitting bolt upright and clutching her heaving chest which moved quickly as she tried to steal any air she could to replenish her screaming lungs. She felt perspiration hot and wet on her forehead, a droplet of sweat stroking the side of her face as she tried in vain to calm down; it was undignified to act this way, though she could not stop herself. She brushed her hair away from her face, but it fell defiantly back across her shoulders like curtains drawing to hide her shameful outburst. Her throat constricted, pained from when she had so obviously cried out through it all and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

And the most crushing truth was that Constance could tell that only moments had passed since she had closed her eyes to hope for sleep; she had gained nothing in a battle she had lost, falling wounded at the first frontier. It was a discredit to a demeanour she had, until then, had complete faith in.

Leaving her bed, she staggered unsurely into the bathroom and grabbed the porcelain sink with both hands as though if she let go she would surely fall. Constance dared to look up into the mirror which reflected her deepest insecurities. Her face was several shades too pale, her eyes worn and submissive with a glint of desperation which had never before laid there; this was not the woman that she needed to be. She splashed water, as cold as ice and a welcome shock to her senses, onto her ghostly face and closed her eyes whilst breathing deeply.

Constance scolded herself inwardly; she had to hold it together. She needed to be strong, to be who everyone expected her to be and to rise above such a ridiculous trial of the strength she knew she had within her. Why was it so hard? She had never felt such a weight which seemed to try to drag her body down to the floor, she had never wanted just to curl into a ball and be left alone to wallow; this was something different and she hated it, as much as she hated the reflection staring like a ghost at her from the mirror.

The moon smiled from its hiding place behind the clouds, emitting such a bright glow that it had to be mocking her. It knew what was coming and it knew it well, beaming at the cloaked figure who watched silently from within the forest. It delighted in the chaos it watched and could not wait until the day, which could never come too soon, where Constance would meet an enemy with whom she would be reluctant to fight and never win against; her darkest hour.

Xxx

Morning came slowly, drawn out like the last days of a terminal illness as the hours seemed to drag on for longer than forever. Watching the beginning of a new day, as light however meagre began to fall upon the thankful leaves and animals began to awaken from slumber, should have been a privilege. The first movements of the chirruping birds brought life to the motionless landscape which seemed to have frozen overnight, like a freeze-frame captured which waited until the morning light to come to life.

It was beautiful, a great gift of nature despite its childlike simplicity. It was a true, untainted natural wonder, one of the last true remaining; but to Constance it was just the start of another day which she would struggle through whilst the rest of the world carried on obliviously. Another day where the weight of tiredness would pull her closer to the precipice of an abyss from which no-one could even think of saving her from.

Constance looked with reluctance in the mirror, touching at her hair to make sure that not one strand was out of place; if her mask cracked then there was no hope for the trembling woman behind it. She tried to stop her eyes from wandering to her pale face, but the pearly glow it emitted seemed to draw her line of vision like moths to a flame. She could not help but stare in disgust at her own white flesh, radiating anything but beauty, to the point where her eyes grew tired.

Her gaze wandered down to her body, which although she had never really bothered to take note of she could still see was changing. She was thinner, the dark silk which had once clung like a firm embrace to her frame now hanging on with all it could muster; they would notice. Food had been the last thing on her mind, a needless distraction from her duties and her body, thought it rarely yearned for anything, was suffering without it.

Constance conjured an apple in her hand without a thought, though simply stared at it as her stomach churned. She could not explain it, a sentiment which had become over the past two weeks her mortal enemy, but she could not bring herself to take even a bite. It was as though her mind sensed poison coursing within the apple's juices, a danger she could not see; whatever it was, the mere thought of tasting the bittersweet fruit brought nausea like a wave crashing to the shores of her mind and she made it vanish before her eyes. Looking at herself one more time, she waved her hand slowly over her face and closed her eyes, feeling a warm tingling sensation envelop her entire body. When Constance opened her eyes, you could not tell that there was anything wrong. When people looked at her, they would have no idea of the torment behind the doors she had closed to the rest of the world.

Xxx

Miss Hardbroom was in the potions laboratory hours before her students even woke. As they filed in, chatting absent-mindedly without a care in the world, Constance simply sat with her elbows rested on her desk. She raised her head from its gentle perch upon her hands and rotated her stiff neck in circles; her eyes begged to close, but she denied them that luxury.

'Right girls, as you all know that you have exams in a few weeks,' Constance started, though as she spoke her throat seemed to tighten. She was forced to clear her throat with a painful cough before continuing.

'Today will be the first of many practice tests, so put away your books and start on the Advanced Healing Potion we learnt at the start of term.' She heard the muffled whispers, the cursed words they threw in her direction when they thought she could not hear. The girls reluctantly started their potions, but every angered glance they gave to her when it seemed her head was turned seemed like an arrow penetrating deeper than any of them would know. Her mind a fog of a weakness she couldn't accept, each time she felt them state their hate for her she felt it hurt like it had never hurt before.

The minutes passed without haste, the heat from the slowly simmering cauldron seeming to burn in the air and the smoke danced in circles like gymnasts twirling ribbons making patterns on the ceiling. Constance sat, staring at nothing in particular and pleading with the bell to finally ring and release her, at least for a minute or two.

It was the strangest feeling, as though she had simply been cut off from the world. Her vision faltered, blurring for a second before everything turned the darkest most unyielding shade of never-ending black. Constance felt her body disconnect, the dizziness plaguing her unsettled mind almost painful as she became lost in an abyss she could not explain. She could not tell where up was, or whether there was an up; she seemed to be floating into nothingness, her mind cast off like a boat wandering out to sea alone.

The pain came afterwards, stabbing bursts like needle pricks emerging from the darkness and overwhelming her; the lone boat crashed to the seabed. She wanted to scream, the constant agony was something she had never before experienced and it was too much, her breath being torn from her lungs with the shock; she wondered if she was dying.

'Miss Hardbroom?'

Her eyes snapped open and she found, to her relief, that she had no more than closed her eyes. Constance was still sat on the chair, though her hands grasped the wooden arms with such fierce desperation that the white bone of her knuckles shone through like ghostly warnings. Her head still pounded, her chest burning as though ablaze; but she was awake and, to her shameful relief, alive.

'Yes, Ethel,' she managed in the scathing tone that everyone had come to hate. Ethel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not used to being on the end of the potion mistress' icy demeanour.

'The bell, Miss Hardbroom.' It took only a second for her to realise, but as Constance's eyes flicked to the clock she noticed that she must have missed the end of the lesson. Hot embarrassment rose to her cheeks, a twinge of shame resonating in her searing heart; but she couldn't let it affect her.

'Right girls, leave your potions for marking and revise for another test tomorrow; class dismissed.'

Constance heard their groans, though felt their compliance and as they rose to leave she wondered how none of them had noticed. She had, as was expected of her, held it together when others would have merely fallen apart. In almost persistent ignorance, she denied for the rest of the day what had happened; if only to herself.

Weakness was like a dagger to her heart, one that could not be tolerated and which was far more painful than the headache which followed her for the rest of the day. It was not exactly a fear of things changing, but something deeper and more genuine; the way an old woman with Alzheimer's refuses to believe that she needs help, that she is on the path which spirals down to death and still holds on to a dignity she can feel slipping from her grasp. Constance blocked the memory of that lesson from her mind, hoping to forget and struggle on as if nothing had happened; but when your world is taken over, you cannot deny everything.

Xxx

The next afternoon, Imogen Drill stepped out onto the slippery cobbles of the courtyard and looked begrudgingly at the sky. It had rained all through the night and for most of the morning and she felt as though the weather was taunting her, refusing to relinquish its hold over her planned events. She stared at the sky, grey and lifeless, and she could swear that it was mocking her.

Miss Cackle stood beside Imogen, trying to work out what she was looking for.

'It seems we will be able to hold the tournament after all Miss Drill,' she said cheerily. Imogen looked at her, her face contorted with confusion.

'Surely not Miss Cackle, the ground is far too wet and it could start raining again.'

'Imogen,' said Amelia smiling, 'you forget that we have a greater capability to control such matters; Constance can sort it out.'

'Could you not do it Amelia?' Imogen asked curiously. Amelia sighed a little but her face was still warm with a smile that never seemed to tire her face.

'I am good at a great deal of things, but weather is a very dangerous force to reckon with. It is no secret that Constance is a far more powerful witch than I and she is fully aware of it,' Miss Cackle confessed lightly.

Her deputy's skill never failed to astound her, even after so long; she had never quite understood why it was that she had never taken a position of higher power. Yet in the context of the school, they worked as the perfect combination of warmth, understanding and unquestionable dexterity and for that reason, Amelia did not envy the immense amount of magic she held at her command.

Constance materialised silently beside the headmistress with her arms folded across her chest as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

'You called, headmistress?' Imogen jumped slightly and turned her head to see the potions mistress standing as if she had always been there and for a second she could swear she saw a glint of a smirk ghost across Constance's face.

'Yes Constance, I was wondering what you could do about the weather,' Amelia explained. Constance sighed heavily, and moved her hand in a circular motion without the needs for words. A Small ball of pure white light appeared and hovered in the air, waiting for instructions. At her command, it soared like an eagle into the air and disappeared into the clouds. Imogen and Amelia watched in awe, as though a great spectacle was unfolding before them; Constance simply watched the sky, unfazed by her own remarkable skill.

When it returned, Constance looked deep into the ball before it disappeared. She raised her arms again and the water still glistening across the castle like a blanket of diamonds vanished, leaving only a wisp of smoke which faded, dying into the sky.

'There will be no further rain until this evening and the ground is now safe for the girls to use,' she stated bluntly before folding her arms and vanishing from sight once more. Imogen stared after her; though she would never admit it, she was not only appreciative of Constance's obvious talent but envious of it.

They had never even suspected. Perhaps it was that their minds were on other more important things, too preoccupied to notice, or perhaps it was just that they didn't think that anything could shake such a strong and stoic woman. Whether it was one or the other, whether it was one of a million possibilities, they didn't notice the colour drain from the potion mistress' face. They didn't realise the hint of immediacy in her voice as she disappeared and they would never know how much a kind word would have meant, even if it had not been accepted.

Xxx

Constance appeared in her room, the world spinning around her like an endless vortex. She stumbled, her legs feeling light and unable to take even her meagre weight; it was as if she was falling, the ground beneath her feet not steady and the world moving further from her grasp as she reached out to hold on to anything which could spare her dignity from crumbling with her.

Anyone else would have just succumbed to the mind-numbing pain which was beginning to creep from nowhere and take over Constance's body. They would see no point in fighting a losing battle and let the awful dizziness take hold, let it drag them to the floor as they relished in the awful relief of unconscious sleep; not Constance. She fought with everything she had, all of the magic in her body lashing out against the force she could neither see nor understand, her mind defiant that she would not be defeated.

She stayed upright and unwavering for almost five agonising minutes before she lost the battle she had never really been able to fight. She bit down hard on her lip, suppressing a shattering scream as she fell like a dove of pure, virgin white falling from the sky. Her head hit the cold stone hard, the horrible taste of blood invading her mouth as she tried in vain to make her useless body respond. Constance lay down, never giving up the fight but for the first time in too long on the verge of banished tears, until a dark veil seemed to descend over her and force her weary eyes to close.

Nobody else knew. They didn't even know she was gone. As she lay on the floor, drowning in darkness, nobody even asked where she was.

Looking forward to next chapter: We find out at least half of what AH means, and the netball tournament doesn't exactly go to plan...