"Headmistress?"

"Mmm?"

"Headmistress, I think we need to talk."

"Constance." Amelia rolled over with some effort. Constance was kneeling bolt upright. "Constance, we are completely alone. We have just made love several times. We are both naked. I don't think, under the circumstances, you really need to call me Headmistress."

"Miss Cackle -"

"Constance!"

"Amelia! Amelia." Constance looked flustered. "I am sorry. I am nervous."

That immediately woke Amelia up. She moved closer and kissed Constance's knee. "Dear, there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about." She placed another kiss a little higher up, just to reinforce the point.

"Yes, there is," Constance said forcefully. Her eyes were dark and wide, and she avoided looking at Amelia; an Amelia now thoroughly alarmed. "There is something to be nervous about because this matters. It matters, Amelia." She finally looked down at Amelia. "Where do we go from here? What happens to us when the students come back?"

Amelia stared up at Constance, terrified suddenly that her answer would be wrong, but knowing it was the only answer she could make. "I would want us to continue, Constance." She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. "I love you."

And the wide dark eyes were looking into her soul and then suddenly Constance's arms were pulling her upright even as her mouth came down hard on hers in a kiss that said everything.

#

"We still have to work out how to manage this, Amelia. Us, I mean," Constance said sleepily. It was much later that evening. Even the summer nights near Castle Overblow were too chilly to allow two naked witches to spend the night under the stars. Constance had transported both of them and the picnic basket directly into Constance's room. Now both of them were curled under a goosedown quilt in Constance's narrow bed, and the picnic basket was shoved into a corner. The candlelight from the single candleabra played over it, masking its contents with shadows.

"Umm," Amelia said. A larger bed might be nice, she thought. Though this one had benefits. Constance was spooning her, her lean body curled up around her, and Amelia couldn't think of a nicer possible way to sleep, now that she really considered it.

"I mean, there are the staff to consider," Constance continued. "Is it fair to tell them, if we don't want the students to know? And," she yawned against Amelia's hair, "I don't think we can have the students know. The gossip would make teaching unbearable. But if we tell someone like Miss Bat, then she's bound to tell someone like Griselda and Fennella, and -"

"Constance." Amelia rolled over. "We will be as we normally are around staff and students, and when we are alone," she took Constance's hand and kissed her fingers, "we will be us. And I would like very much if we were alone together with a great deal of frequency."

A smile on Constance Hardbroom's face was not often seen; and when it was it was often sardonic. This was not. It was luminous. "Goodnight, Amelia," she said softly.

"Goodnight, beloved Constance." Wrapping her arms around her lover, Amelia seemed to fall asleep almost at once.

"I love you." It was the fragment of a whisper, practically inaudible, but Amelia's arms tightened around Constance just as Constance's tightened around Amelia, cherishing the presence of each other and the feeling both had of being utterly at home.

#

Imogen Drill pedalled up the forest trail towards the castle and gave a small inward sigh. She did enjoy her job; it was exciting and unusual, and going back to schools with pupils without magical abilities would be quite an adjustment. But she'd spent the last two weeks doing an amazing drama course, and it had made her aware of the opportunities that 'normal' schools offered that Cackles Academy simply did not. An example would be, well, drama. A really great way for the girls to express themselves creatively. But it would be highly unlikely that Miss Cackle would go for it; and even if she did, Constance Hardbroom would disapprove of it loudly until she'd worn Miss Cackle right down.

Still, even so, it was an amazing place to work, she mused as she moved quickly and easily towards the castle. It did look fantastic, nestled in the trees. And the early morning runs were paradise.

Her spirits rose. After all, there was no harm in proposing a drama course to Miss Cackle, she decided as she entered through Walkers Gate and swung down off her bike.

The courtyard still had an empty look - no wonder, with the girls due back tomorrow. But suddenly Constance Hardbroom was there, and even with the absence of the girls, Cackles Academy stopped being a romantic old castle and started being Cackles Academy again. Imogen sighed.

"Good morning, Miss Hardbroom," she called, and wheeled her bike towards the witch. As ever, there was no difference between Constance Hardbroom during term time and Constance Hardbroom during what was still technically summer break. The outfit was still black, still completely form fitting - and how did the woman manage to keep a figure like that when Imogen had never seen her exercise? - the lips were still burgundy and the bun was omnipresent. Imogen herself was wearing a rather colourful biking outfit that was perhaps a little too skimpy to wear around the girls. "How was Australia?"

Miss Hardbroom gave her a look that could only be described as confused. "What?"

"Your trip. With Miss Cackle. To Tasmania?" Now Imogen was confused.

"Oh, I'd forgotten about that," Constance said half to herself. There was a slight tremble to her lip, as if she fought back a smile. "We didn't go, Miss Drill. Amelia fell down the stairs immediately after you left, and it wasn't safe for her to travel. So we stayed here instead."

"Is she all right?" Imogen was concerned. She knew witches lived very long lives, but Miss Cackle struck her as being old even for a witch, and falls at whatever age she was could possibly be serious.

Miss Hardbroom's lips twitched again. What was wrong with the woman? "She seems quite fit to me."

"Good," said Imogen, relieved. "I'm very sorry about your holiday, though. Must've ruined your break."

"I wouldn't say it was a bad holiday, even so. Very peaceful."

Poor Amelia, stuck here in the castle, unwell and with Miss Hardbroom for her constant companion. Imogen made a mental note to jog down to Mrs Cosy's later and get some of those cream buns the Headmistress seemed so mad about. The poor woman probably needed some thoughtful care. "Well, even so. It must have been a disappointment for you both."

Miss Hardbroom made a non committal noise. "We have a new pupil coming in tomorrow for the first years - Enid Nightshade. She was at day witch school, but her parents feel she'd get more benefit from boarding school. So there will be one extra in your classes tomorrow."

Imogen nodded. "Lovely, Miss Hardbroom. I'll see you in the staff room later on." She still couldn't work out why there was still that faint suggestion of a smile on Constance Hardbroom's face. It was just - odd.

Constance Hardbroom watched the PE teacher wheel her bike into the broom shed and disappear into the castle. Then, alone in the courtyard, she walked through Walkers Gate and looked out at the forest around the castle. The day was warm and splendid, and the air smelt of flowers. Tomorrow the girls would come back, and term time with its upsets and dramas would begin again. And the circle that was her life would continue.

But there was no trace of her earlier frustrations. Because now there was Amelia; Amelia to talk with and argue with as she had ever been, but now Amelia to smile at, and touch, and be Constance's Amelia; as Constance had always, in her heart, felt herself to be Amelia's Constance. And that made every possible difference.

"I wouldn't say it was a bad holiday, Miss Drill," she thought to herself. "I spent it in the place I love best, with the person I love best, lost in loving and being loved. I think," she finished, looking over the forest she knew so well and leaning against the stones of the castle that had been her shelter for so many years, "that it was, in fact, the perfect holiday."