(A/N)- Sorry for the lateness! I'm well into the next one so it should be up sooner. My classes have me stressed beyond reason - the people who say art classes are easy must not be art majors, I am completely drained emotionally. xP AND I have to run to two museums tomorrow for classwork. Yippee, hooray! Anyways! Thank you to all who have reviewed!
P.S.- This is now the episode 'Monkey Business'
- Bruised, Not Broken -
"I was thinking Mildred ought to see to the new girl, Enid Nightshade. She's going to need someone to show her around the school, look after her ..."
"And get her into trouble," Constance added distastefully, watching Imogen as she sat by the door, clown nose taped to her face. The non-witch reached up and touched it tenderly, wincing in pain as she tried to see if it was broken or not without removing the clown nose.
It had been the first Constance had seen of Imogen since she'd returned from her drama course over the break ... and Constance had probably broken her nose. 'Well, off to a good start as usual,' Constance thought, determined to look indifferent as the sports mistress caught her gaze and scowled deeply at her.
"Perhaps Enid will keep her out of trouble," Amelia offered, sipping her tea, "She's going through a bit of a rough time as it is. I spoke to her mother just yesterday. Her parents had recently divorced, and her mother moved Enid and her siblings to the countryside, too far from Salamander Witch school, where Enid originally attended."
"Day witch school," Constance commented, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.
"Precisely," Amelia said, sitting beside her deputy head, "Enid was distraught about leaving, and I can imagine, on top of her parents' divorce, it did not bode well."
"And you think pairing her up with Mildred Hubble will make it all better?"
"No, but it may help. In the very least, it could ensure that Enid makes at least one friend here at Cackle's. And it will keep Mildred occupied for the time being."
Imogen, who had been palpating her slowly-swelling nose, unintentionally put too much pressure on a particularly sore spot, and she let out a small cry of anguish. Arms pulled tightly against her chest, she leaned into her lap as she waited the pain out.
"Miss Drill, are you alright?" Amelia inquired, "I could send for Miss Hawthorne ..."
"She's off today," Constance informed, "And we are only to contact her if it's a dire emergency."
Davina stood suddenly, looking rather furious, "You very well could have broken her nose, Miss Harrrdbroom!"
"Me?" Constance squeaked in outrage, getting to her feet as well to stare the older woman down, "She ran into the door!" she said, motioning to the sports mistress who was still folded helplessly in on herself, "It's not my fault you two were quite literally clowning around!"
"Will the both of you just shut up, you're giving me a headache!" Imogen replied in a muffled shout, sitting upright once more to cast a nasty stare in Constance's direction.
Miss Hardbroom sighed audibly, crossing the room, "I may have something in my store room that could fix you up right." She pulled open the door and Imogen flinched away like a beaten dog.
"Careful dear, I think she means to finish you off," Davina muttered, loud enough for Constance to hear.
"I do not want to 'finish her off'!" Constance snapped back, and added sarcastically, "Besides if I did, we'd have no one to oversee lunch. I'm kidding!" she added hastily when Davina looked positively horrified, and with a sigh she took off down the hall towards her potions lab. Without a word, Imogen followed, cupping one hand over her sore nose.
Imogen stepped carefully into the store room at the back of the potions lab, unsure if Constance had possibly taken back her offer to help her. The brunette had her back to her as she rummaged through a large cabinet, and Imogen took a moment to glance around the place she'd normally been forbidden to enter. Shelf after shelf was lined with bottled potions and ingredient jars. Her eyes immediately fell on a jar which appeared to contain a human heart submerged in formaldehyde, and her stomach gave a small lurch.
"The girls have been rearranging my things," Constance explained in annoyance, not looking at her, "I told Amelia allowing them free-range of the potions lab during study hours was a bad idea ... ah," she took out a small blue bottle and it connected against the green one in her hand with a small clink before she turned around, placing them on the table in the middle of the room.
"Have a seat," she ordered, magicking a stool to slide out from beneath the table. Imogen sat immediately, still cupping a hand over her clown-nose.
"Let me see ..." before Imogen could remove her hand, Constance had already done so, the touch sending the non-witch's pulse racing. The witch, on the other hand, appeared to take no notice - all thoughts appeared to be focused on assessing the damage she'd done to the blonde's nose.
Carefully, she removed the four corners of the thin tape that Davina had used to strap the clown nose to her face. Her short fingernails grazed her tanned skin, and she shivered involuntarily at the sensation it caused her. Constance paused a moment, regarding her curiously as if she might have harmed her, but soon continued without a word, placing the false nose on the table.
Tenderly, she felt along the bridge of her nose with both hands, starting from the top. When she'd reached the middle, Imogen jerked slightly with a sharp intake of breath. The skin there had already begun to turn a nasty purple and greenish tinge.
"It's not broken, just bruised," she confirmed, but her fingers lingered a moment longer than need be. Imogen stared up at her, drawing her gaze to look back at her. Her brown eyes were warm and inviting in the morning sunlight, but her eyebrows furrowed over them slightly in a mixture of sadness and fear, and immediately she tore her gaze away before the non-witch could read into it.
Constance picked up the blue bottle and hesitated a moment, collecting herself mentally before unscrewing the bottle and handing it to the younger woman, "It's not magick," she assured when the younger woman made an apprehensive face, "It's just herbal ointment, it will ease the pain and help the bruise fade quicker."
Imogen took the bottle, and their fingers barely brushed before Constance recoiled slightly, nearly causing her to drop it. She was met with a fearful gaze before the witch turned, retrieving the other bottle and putting it away.
"Do you have a mirror?" Imogen asked quietly.
Constance immediately left the room, and she heard her open a desk drawer, shortly afterward she appeared with a simple silver compact mirror. She placed it flat on the table before her. Imogen supposed she did so to avoid any more skin contact.
She could feel the tension building in the room, and she wanted to hurry up and get out of there as soon as possible. Quickly, she rubbed the lotion into the bridge of her nose, wincing at the throbbing pain.
"I'm sorry," Constance managed, and Imogen saw her through the mirror as she stood by the window, arms folded as she looked shamefully back at her.
"It's alright. I was messing around ... I should've been more careful," she said, preferring to just take the blame than to have to argue with Constance on whose fault it was.
She screwed the cap back on the bottle and stood, holding out both objects to the witch, her fingers pinching the edge of the mirror while in the other hand she held the bottle by the cap, so that she too could be careful to avoid touching her.
Constance took them without a word, her brown eyes meeting hers in a fleeting glance before she returned the bottle to the cabinet, slipping the mirror into a hidden pocket on her dress.
"You don't happen to have a band-aid, do you?" Imogen asked, feeling like she was asking too much of her ... even if she did open the door on her face.
Constance raised a questioning brow at her, and she immediately explained, "I just want to cover it up, that's all."
"So it can be more dramatic," Constance drawled, fighting back a smile as Imogen rolled her eyes. She produced a bandaid from a nearby drawer, and quickly disposed of the wrapper with a wisp of blue magick, "Hold still."
Imogen didn't need to be told, she froze almost instantly when the woman's soft fingers returned to her skin, nearly cupping her face in her hands as she smoothed down the adhesive ends of the bandaid with her thumbs.
Imogen found herself reaching up to touch her arms, her fingers reveling in the soft silk beneath her fingers, the rough patches where the thread made designs of flowers barely noticeable in the darkness of her dress.
Constance stiffened at the touch, looking at the shorter woman like a deer caught in headlights. She wanted so much to return the touch, to gently explore the soft tan skin that was ... much more exposed as usual, she realized, as her gaze fell to the woman's bare shoulders and breastbone. She blushed deeply and averted her eyes.
"I have class in ten minutes," she blurted out suddenly, slipping away from the younger woman's grasp, her keys jingling noisily as she locked the cabinet with trembling hands.
She took in short steady breaths, standing before the cabinet with her hands still clasped tightly around the handle. She let the key drop to her side and join the rest as they dangled at her hip.
She could feel the non-witch approach her, and her brown eyes rose to meet her own reflection in the glass of the cabinet. Imogen was tentatively reaching out to touch her shoulder.
Constance whipped around to face her, causing the younger woman to jump.
"Don't you have a class to teach as well?" she snapped irritably, her look of sadness and fear instantly transforming into that of anger.
Imogen looked momentarily shocked, and hesitated for a second before returning her hand to her side. She left without a word, and the silence damn near knocked Constance off her feet.
Riddled with guilt, she stood alone in her store room, her eyes glazed over with tears she would not allow to be shed. She had been cold, yes, but she had reason. She wrapped her arms around her thin frame, and immediately her eyes flew to the discarded clown nose on the table.
No, they could never be together ... but she didn't deserve such cruelty.
Quickly she snatched up the nose and pocketed it into her dress as the third years began to pile into the classroom.
(A/N) - Have to type slow my sis is sleeping. Please review, next update should be within a week, maybe sooner!