Had she just made an irrevocable mistake? At that moment Imogen's judgement was too clouded to know. She watched silently as Constance walked away in her usual brisk fashion, with a slight falter in her step that hinted to her feelings of bewilderment.
Imogen gave a small smile. Whilst she may have known the cause of the confusion, her secret indulgence of observing Constance ensured that she recognised any alteration in her mannerisms, so slight that they would be unnoticed by anyone but herself. She was a very practical woman, and this understanding was enough to give her hope.
Hastily closing the heavy door that protected her bedroom, Constance sat on her bed and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to collect her thoughts. Until a few moments ago she had presumed she was all-knowing. She could still sense Imogen in every possible respect. Touch, scent, taste... Lying back, she tried to differentiate between her mixed emotions.
Predominantly fear. Fear of the situation, Fear of being caught, Fear of the unknown. Fear of developing attachment.
Constance Hardbroom had always been an attractive woman, but even the beautiful are not immune to the pain of rejection. Could she cope with the danger of someone seeing past her no-nonsense facade? She herself did not like to acknowledge the person within, therefore this seemed unlikely.
With a sigh, she began to rationalise.
Imogen Drill must see something... Otherwise she wouldn't have these concerns-
" -These... feelings." Constance concluded aloud, before shaking her head.
Making the decision to ignore that evening's events returned her sense of control, reassuring her slightly.
She conjured the trusty dreamless sleep potion. She banished the overwhelming self-doubt that was present in her mind by drinking it. As she drifted out of consciousness she involuntarily reflected on her acquaintance with Imogen. Their first meeting. Their first civil conversation. Their first heated debate. Their first kiss... Then nothing.
As dawn took over the castle and the first rays of sunlight crept in through the windows, Imogen still lay awake. As a non-magical person she did not have the same mystical methods of clearing her mind. Jumping to her feet, with a sudden burst of energy unique to herself, she pulled on her running shoes and headed towards the door. Her favourite pastime might not deliver the answers she sought, but running gave her an instant challenge to focus on, and the illusion of peace as nothing else could possibly intrude.
Passing trees, the lake, more trees...The adrenaline coursed through her body as she coursed through the castle grounds, glowing due to the exercise and ready to face another day at Cackle's Academy.
Her workout was slightly more strenuous than her usual daily routine. This twist of fate caused her to stop for breath and kneel down before entering the great hall. Miss Hardbroom swept down the stairs in a manner that was both magical but concrete. Her eyes briefly met Imogen's before immediately darting elsewhere, in a rare deviation from her normal resolute strength.
As Imogen was wondering the best means of starting their conversation, Constance spoke.
"Miss Drill" she said in civil acknowledgement, with an ice-cold edge that did not seem to be directed at her young colleague particularly.
Imogen wondered if it was perhaps self-focused. She opened her mouth to deliver something - an equally polite greeting, a request to talk privately, even permission to forget the entire incident. She was not given the chance however, as Constace was gone as quickly as she had appeared.
Mildred Hubble watched her form teacher's unusually distracted display with vague interest. Imogen wondered if any of the girls noticed her own flustered appearance and got to her feet, attempting to look more professional.
"Good Morning, Imogen!" Miss Cackle called merrily, coming from the direction of her office.
"Hello, Miss Cackle." Imogen forced a smile that did not deceive the headmistress for one moment.
She was met with a look of mild concern.
"You look very thoughtful. Is there anything the matter?"
Imogen shook her head.
"A problem shared is a problem halved you know..." Amelia probed gently.
Her kind-heartedness encouraged a genuine smile from Imogen, that served to reassure her.
"I'll bear that in mind Miss Cackle." She told her friend as they continued through the double-doors to breakfast.
Amelia noted the absence of her deputy headmistress and tutted gently before muttering confidentially.
"Not sleeping properly. Now she's not eating properly...Perhaps you could have a word with her. Your knowledge of physical health and fitness would be beneficial. While obviously the headstrong type, she will take advice, on occasion. Providing, of course, that she doesn't have to show she has. "
Miss Cackle shared a small portion of the very little insight she was allowed into Constance's character.
"Actually," she continued, pouring orange juice, "I recently had a splendid idea. It might just be an opportunity for both staff and pupils to relax, and to get to know each other better in a more select group."
Imogen was alerted to the fact that it was impossible for two teachers in such a small group of staff members to avoid each other. The issue would have to be faced
Imogen resolved not to obsess, telling herself truths to support this.
If you worry, you die. If you don't worry, you die. Why worry?
What had to be dealt with would be, in time.
