Imogen Drill was confused when she woke up, reaching her hand across the sheet that was unbearably cold. A familiar musky jasmine scent surrounded her as she nuzzled the soft pillow with her nose. The it clicked. This was not her bed. Dazed, the non-witch sat up, forcing her blurry emerald eyes open. Rows upon rows of bookshelves littered the walls, heavy dark blackout curtains draped all the way to the floor, a dark mury red carpet laid across the floor, giving the room a significant warmth. There was a border of bright light around the curtains signalling that her precious night was over, but the girl beamed brightly. It was officially the holidays and she was sharing them with Constance Hardbroom. Constance! Why wasn't she still there with her? The witch was sitting in the armchair, her chestnut hair tied back in a simple braid. She was looking at her fully with a little smile from over the top of her book.

" Good morning Imogen"

" Morning" the girl stretched and yawned, catching sight of her short hair sticking up and looking crazy. She laughed and flattened it with her fingers. " You're up already " she observed pushing herself into a sitting position.

" Yes, I woke early... Plus, I decided that you'd be going on your skiing trip after all." Despite Constance's unregistered smile, the non-witch's heart plummeted.

" you what?" Her voice was filled with disbelief, the potion mistress blatantly knew she didn't want to go on the skiing trip with her parents, besides she hadn't packed a thing and by the time she cycled all the way there, she'd have missed the plane.

" oh relax Miss Drill," the witch uncurled from herself, and drew back the curtains. The sight confused Imogen greatly. The whole hilltop was coated in a foot of thick, crispy, virgin snow that glistened and glittered brightly reflecting the golden sun.

"You did this?" A bewildered gym teacher awed, gasping silently at the crystal snow that shone like many diamonds patterning the surface. It was the second time this spring month when unexpected snow laid in April.

" No a natural heavy snow storm drifted this way overnight, despite the fact it is spring," the tall watch smirked sarcastically. For a moment Constance just stopped to stare in awe. Imogen was kneeling forward on her bed, with the dazing reflection of the sunlit snowy hilltops in her deep emerald eyes. She was radiant in the pillar of sunlight that shone from the window, her tanned complexion glowing like gold. Her great hitched as she couldn't tear her eyes away from the non-witch, she looked so happy. So beautiful. Then he had turned to look at her, and Miss Hardbroom dropped her gaze quickly with a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

Heaven knows why Constance Hardbroom put spring on hold, just so the non-witch could enjoy the original plans of her holiday minus the supposedly criminal parents. It didn't add up, none of it. Why would her own mother kidnap her own son? But surely the woman would be suffering trauma, so she didn't blame her.

The blonde stumbled out of the bed in her oversized, loose top and merrily strode over to the witch, pecking her pale lips. She hadn't come to terms with Imogen's random displays of affection and always wore a slight cover of surprise afterwards.

" Thank you, it's... It's truly splendid!" A whole holiday with the potion teacher... A gentle thrill crept up the walls of her stomachs as she failed to suppress a magnificent grin. Who could predict the for coming events? But not even a prophecy teller could have known that the very significant day would bring a lot more than either had anticipated. Miss Drill stayed still for a moment, loosely holding her arms around Constance's waist, with her head resting on her chest, smiling out at the snowy surroundings.

" That's alright, Miss Drill" the older woman chortled quietly after the small teacher shot her, her best attempt at a stern glare, which was rather difficult when a smile almost split her face. " Didn't you wish for me to cut your hair again" she emphasised tucking the blonde locks behind her ear.

" It can wait!" She perked up, springing onto the tips of her toes to plant a for kiss on her cheek. "I'll get dressed," then merrily, she left, leaving a bemused Constance's, smiling and staring after her excited colleague. However much the imagery of Imogen was, skiing in her small shorts, the oversized shirt, flapping around her thin frame, the witch would not be blamed if Amelia returned to find her staff ill with pneumonia or bedridden with frostbite.

This had to be one of the best mornings Imogen Drill had ever experienced. It was top alongside her eighth birthday. She had woken up early that morning from sheer excitement that she was yet, another year older, and assuming the usual routine, everyone else had set their alarm early as well, knowing her tendency to get up for celebrations ( it was the same with Christmas). She tore through the halls like a jet on a runway, pulling open the curtains as she went, exposing the whole hallway to immaculate light. As she exploded into the kitchen, her father was flipping pancakes high in the air like a circus act, and she beamed in delight. They always ate pancakes for her birthday, it marked her favourite day of the year. Her mother embraced her warmly as she whispered that she had a surprise for her. And of course her brother stood there, grinning his usual mischievous grin. "Happy Birthday Immi," and he knelt down, kissed her cheek and held out a box. Her hopes flew high, as she tore off the bright blue wrapping paper, throwing the lid to the side. The trainers! She had first seen the trainers in the shop window, and pressed her nose up against the glass. Her old ones were frayed and the sole flapped when she walked, but her parents couldn't afford everything. Even at a young age, Imogen Drill adored sports, and didn't wait to try them on. She looked odd, standing in the living room, in her brothers top that she slept in ( it was way too big, but made her feel safe) her basketball shorts, and the new dazzling white trainers. She didn't think it could get any better until she was presented with a new basketball. Her brother winked and the two siblings played a perfect game out in the garden before breakfast.

Perfect.

Imogen slipped into full length joggers, a yellow sleeveless shirt with a thick jacket that covered her arms, and spotless, well cleaned trainers. The girl bounced back and forth on her toes and her heels, buzzing with energy as she tied her hair back loosely. Then she checked her phone. 10:34. 8 New texts from: Janice. Last received 08:52. 4 Missed calls from: Janice. 3 New voicemails. The non-witch sighed, as she started deleting the texts from her phone without reading them. She has just closed the contraption before the screen lit up again. 1 new text... From Janice. Agitated, she groaned and flipped the thing open again. In perfect spelling, small individual letters Janice had sent her one last text.

Your father and I are very disappointed. We expected more.

She had always been 'mommy's favourite' the way Marcus behaved, and although he had the most fun, and was a good, smart lad, his lies and bribery that gave him so much, took away his respect. Imogen hardly ever lied and was therefore the ' model' sibling. The blonde didn't know how to feel, somewhat relieved, somewhat empty. Yet, she simply shrugged turned off the old phone and wore that bright smile as if nothing happened, as she truly grew excited. Her mother couldn't hinder her now, as a lively spirit roared inside her. For a moment the non-witch perched like a buzzard on the side of her bed looking out to the new scenery. The cutting through the foliage was painted an almost unrecognisable white, where she occasionally jogged, the log crossing over the river was coated in the soft, cotton blanket, and the river beneath was hard as marble. There was no way she could jog in that, despite her high levels of tolerance and enthusiasm. She was snapped from her thoughts by a sharp, unruly knock at her door, before the witch let herself in.

" I did not pause spring for a day so that you'd waste away in your bedroom, up and at it." She commanded, and Imogen didn't have to be told twice as she lifted herself off the bed and marched out the door without question, leaving Constance to shut it behind her.

The deputy headmistress stiffened slightly as the persistent blonde slipped her arm through hers in a height disagreeing link, like the tinman and the barn girl in the well-known classic. Constance just silently prayed she wouldn't start skipping.

Constance had indulged a rather sleepless night, not wanting to drift off to sleep as she knew what often occurred inside her unconscious mind, and to wake up in a sweat, screaming or in tears, beside Miss Drill would be the last thing the witch could tolerate. Twice she had settled upon the idea of getting up to fetch a potion from her classroom, but twice she had dismissed the idea when a certain non-witch snuggled affectionately into her. Being awake through the night, the deputy headmistress had a lot of time on her hands, and found herself questioning her feelings. Imogen drill was her colleague, her female colleague, she was also a teacher, teaching at the same school, and was, to complicate matters, a non-witch. It was taboo! Heavens if Amelia even knew a minority of actions that had occurred since the blondes arrival... Surely she would be fired from her position. However... Didn't she always say how wrong it was one day, just to kiss her lustfully the next? The witch was wrapped in a blanket of confusion as she stared down at the woman, fast asleep beside her. Her hand was ever so close to her own, and she had such a strong urge to run her fingers across the delicate skin, to touch. To hold. Even in the dark, Constance could easily distinguish her own pale, porcelain against her golden tanned complexion.

Oh why did she have to stay after she healed her that night with the broomstick incident. Had she left, things would have certainly been easier! She berated herself mentally the whole night. It was only around four in the morning when Imogen had buried her head softly into the crook of the woman's neck that she decided she had some sort of feeling for her. As her warm, pleasing breath tickled her neck, Constance brushed the blonde locks from her face and kissed her forehead lightly, letting herself be succumbed into a light slumber.

Having woken only two hours later, the witch wasn't in the best of moods and had the girls been here, she was sure that half the students would have been placed on detention already and fenella and griselda would be kept far away from each other as possible. Yet, she was thankful it was the start of the holidays, as Miss Cackle would currently be reprimanding her that so many lines of 'I must remind myself that education is much more important the my own selfish desires' was both unnecessary and harsh. Had she been alone within the old walls of Cackles Academy, most likely she'd either be shut away in her classroom, or out handpicking her own herbs to dry out and store. However this had not been the case, and she was voluntarily sharing the holidays with the enthusiastic, somewhat infuriating non-witch.

She really, sincerely had been trying not to strike up an argument during the past week, forcing herself to bite her tongue on more than one occasion, just do Drill could at least see the effort she was making to at least be nicer.

Now as younger woman walked beside her, arm in arm they seemed more like two friends than anything else. Two friends enjoying their holidays with each other. Two friends that dance in the kitchen, ride a broom, share a bed on rare occasions and exchange passionate kisses ... Perfectly normal right. Right?

Those innocent, lively green eyes stared up at her, yet the witch didn't acknowledge the glances, focusing her gaze ahead of her. The eyes were striking and stabbing at her, still, of she wanted her attention she had a tongue in her head, she could use it.

"Are you ignoring me now Constance?" With a shake off her head she let a weak smile play on her lips before vanishing.

" No, I am simply a little tired " she admitted. Tired. It had always been her excuse for as long as she could remember. 'I'm just tired'

Tired of continuously being hurt by Mistress Broomhead. Tired of every girls whine or complaint. Tired of Davina's cravings for enthusiasm. Tired of Amelia letting Fenella and Griselda off the hook. Tired of those bright emerald eyes that often made an appearance in her mind.

"I'm fine, I promise" she muttered as she met her gaze for once, surprised to see it laced with concern.

"Is it safe?"

" Yes it's fine!"

" It doesn't look safe."

" There are no sharp bends or anything, its safe, we won't fall "

" Are you sure this is a good idea?"

" Just hold on tight and keep balanced"

" Now where have I heard that before?"

" Exactly! Just like riding a broomstick!"

" apart from the fact I'm standing on my feet! How do I even hold on!"

" My waist Miss Hardbroom"

A moment of silence passed.

" Miss Drill, if you think, that I-"

" Oh come on now Constance you're not twelve you don't need to freak out by the fact you're holding my waist" the blonde chuckled, looking over her shoulder at the witch who was standing stiffly behind her. Tentatively a pale hand slid around her stomach securing herself onto her safely, wrapping her arms around the non-witches waist. How did she possibly let Imogen simply talk her into this?

" Imogen, I don't know how to ski!" She protested profoundly clenching her teeth nervously, making her sharp cheekbones stand out.

" I don't know how to dance," the younger woman pointed out reassuringly. " its okay, I've done this often enough before," Constance composed herself quickly, finding it embarrassing that she was actually nervous, and compiled before she could change her mind.

"Alright" the potion mistress didn't look too bad, had she not been blushing that her arms were around the non-witch, she would be as pale as the snow surrounding her. Had she not been rather nervous and pale, the heavy red blush would have highlighted her cheeks, but as both colours blended, the witch looked as she usually did.

" Hold on it's alright" Imogen smiled digging the ski poles into the snow, pushing herself forward, and from then on the skis moved on their own with no friction between them and the snow, as they flew through the snow with ease. Constance held tightly to her, the speed thrilling er slightly as the long plait whipped her back. Her grip secured even more, and Imogen winced softly, wondering if this is how she had been like, that thundery morning. The non-witch swerved swiftly with a triumphant grin. She and Marcus always competed, going as fast as they could and more often than not, Imogen won. She bent her knees a little, and laughed. The witch softened slightly as Imogen's laugh rang through her. But now they were going faster, much faster and Constance bit her lip hard.

" Where are the brakes!" She yelled. Brooms didn't need brakes but most non-witch transportation included them.

Imogen looked back to see what was bothering the older woman, about to tell her that she wasn't helping, when the skis hit an unexpected bump and the blonde stumbled, losing one of the skis, wobbling as a clutching Constance didn't simplify matters.

Before she knew it, she had met the cold snow, and burst out laughing as she rolled a little further, landing on her back. Her hair was now soaked in the snow but she couldn't stop laughing as the potion teacher rolled beside her.

Constance loved and hated the experience, shivering softly before gathering her senses and gently pinned the woman down into the snow.

" its safe, you say... We won't fall, you say," Imogen stopped laughing nervously, in a vain attempt to free her wrist from her colleagues steel grip.

"Let me up Constance!" She whined as she struggled, but the witches firm clutch tightened.

" No, I don't think I will," she drawled teasingly, inspecting the blushing blonde beneath her, ever so gently nuzzling her neck, resting the softest kiss on her pulse, nibbling the tender skin sweetly. Imogen emitted a low moan, biting her lip slightly.

" It... Its not my fault, you -" she stuttered, her warm breath catching sharply in her throat as the deputy head nipped the tanned skin over her pulse passionately, cutting her mid sentence. The Gym mistress tilted her head slightly to allow the older woman greater access, although she was sure the small nibbles, sucks and nuzzles of affection were bound to leave a visible mark. It was a good thing it was the holiday, otherwise she'd have a lot of explaining to do to Miss Cackle, as all of her attire assortments had a neckline that came in line with her collarbone or below.

" oh Don't you dare blame me!" She smirked and caught her lips intensely beneath her own. Imogen so greatly wished to take the woman hair from the plait, run her fingers effortlessly through the silky locks, alas whenever wrists were stuck in her grip, she had been restricted of all use, which infuriated her greatly. The woman knew how to tease. Constance changed drastically around her making her other playful and teasing, traits she would never have originally expected from her. Still miss drill kissed her fondly almost growing numb. Constance lost her will power to Imogen, defeated by the fresh emerald eyes. She was so caught up in kissing the teacher that he didn't noticed the broomstick in the sky.

" Constance? Imogen? "

Both women stiffened, unable to move away as the unmistakable, dazed voice of Davina Bat rang out in the clearing.