Imogen Drill sat stiffly in her usual chair in the staffroom, a bitter taste in her mouth as she fiddled nimbly with her fingers, staring blankly out the window, the snow still reflecting the sun brightly. Constance Hardbroom sat on the other side of the table, motionless and stationary, her back straight as a ruler. Her index and pinky fingers met on both hands, feeling sick from the anxious silence. The only thing that made the witch feel any better, would be the fact it was Davina, not Amelia that saw two staff members, kissing heatedly in the unnatural snow on the hill. Miss Bat sat at the head if the table, as if she was Miss Cackle and was grinning brightly, like any other normal day. But now she was staring from Imogen to Constance, back to Imogen, back to Constance and so on, waiting for someone to speak.

" Wh-what are you doing back here so early?" The non-witch stuttered, slinking back into her chair, wishing it would swallow her up in its cushions.

" I left my marigold, juniper meditation tea, its vital!" The old witch perked up, with an odd smile "well," Miss Drill opted to stay silent, closing her eyes. Not being able to see anything almost made it like she wasn't there. And oh what Imogen would give to make it that she wasn't there. But Miss Bats impatient humming made her wishes evaporate in a puff of smoke. She couldn't speak, instead desperately seeking reassurance from the brunette, who met her gaze embarrassingly.

" I..." Constance started, before biting her lip and opting to vanish on the spot, leaving Imogen alone with the bat.

'Thanks a lot' she thoughts miserably resuming her hopes of vanishing as well... Of course, she never could.

"Imogen, please tell me..." The woman pleaded and the blonde forced herself to sit up in her chair, stirring her cold tea with no intention of lifting the cup to her lips.

" I guess it started with me, two girls and a broomstick."

Constance sat awkwardly on her bed, she had known it was wrong of her to leave her... Her... Her Imogen there to deal with Davina alone, but there was no way Miss Hardbroom could deal with such embarrassment. She leafed through a book that she absorbed as well as a golf ball absorbed the morning dew. Instead she resorted to pinning her hair up in her normal bun, upon realisation the chanting teacher had never seen it in that particular style. Her precise, delicate fingers nimbly sorted her hair, realising how much a simple action could transfer her appearance. To be truthful, she liked her hair down, whether that being in a plait, a ponytail or just down in general, but after her experience at school, she didn't know any different but then it was 'proper'. The witch sat alone for what felt like hours, but estimated was roughly seven minutes and bored, she vanished again, reappearing outside of the staffroom. She had been planning to burst in and scare Davina as usual, it would certainly bring a smile to her lips, possibly even the gym teachers... Yet she never managed to accomplish that, as she was cut short, hearing the words that left Imogen's lips. Lightly and silently, she leaned against the door and the voices magnified. The deputy head felt rather uneasy eavesdropping on her own colleagues. She gasped.

"It was obvious that we never got along, I mean I loved her at first, but now... She's never there for me you know? she doesn't think about anyone but herself, she's heartless..." There was a pause, as Imogen gathered the courage to voice her afterthoughts " She doesn't know how to love," She signed quietly, exhaling steadily sounding heartbroken.

" I see," Davina muttered " So will you ever love her again?"

Constance didn't want to stay to hear the reply, still, as she vanished she had the time to catch the soft 'no' be whispered from her once lovers lips. Tears spilt down her chalk pale cheeks, staining the soft porcelain skin as her eyes swam with hurt and sorrow. The tears came streaming and there was no stopping them. How foolish could she possibly be? She was being played by the non-witch all this time, and now she was crying like a silly young child.

" You pathetic, little girl!" The headmistress loomed over her as she tried her best to control her tears. "Weeping little girls... They're disgusting. Dry those eyes!" She barked cruelly as Constance sniffed helplessly wiping her eyes on her sleeve. " You've been lacking recently Constance, am I not right to punish you accordingly? "

"Y-yes mistress Broomhead" fresh tears leaked from her dark crestfallen eyes, earning a hard slap across her face, making the young witch whimper and force back the tears.

" Then deal with them! You're used to them by now aren't you, you worthless little creature" constance only nodded, her eyes were burning as more tears gathered, but she refused to let a single one drop. " crying is for the weak"

Constance Hardbroom certainly felt weak as she half sat half collapsed on her bed, the one time in her life when she let someone into her heart into her life, and she was simply just a game to be played. The with felt ill and clutched her bed sheets to her chest desperately before crying into them. She zapped the snow from where she sat, and on the other side of the window, she saw the large blanket of pure snow ascend like vapour into the sky, dazzling crystals flying upwards, leaving fresh emerald grass free from its captor. Everything was much more vibrant and livelier, except Constance, who felt like she had evaporated with the cold winter.

It wasn't much later when there was a soft, tentative knock on her door. Composing herself, the potion mistress wiped her eyes, but was silent as a stone, denying the woman permission to enter her chambers. She could hear an exasperated sigh and a slight thump, indicating the non-witch just relented and leant against the door.

" Constance... I know you're embarrassed, I am to, believe me. But Miss Bat is okay with everything... I even told her that you have permission to lock her in her cupboard for eternity if she accidentally tells... This... This doesn't change anything right?" Imogen Drill sighed again waiting in the silence, beginning to feel ridiculous that she may, in fact be conversing with an empty room.

The nerve! To spill out heartbreaking truths to the mad chanting teacher, but to keep playing the terrible game, pretending to love her.

" Constance?" The handle twist, and the witch snapped

" Get out" she whispered feverly as boiling tears of rage fought forward, pricking her murky chocolate eyes. " Get out!" She cried, slamming the door shut roughly again with magic.

Imogen was horrified as she stood there, a hair widths away from getting hit by the door. Her eyes were wide, feeling rather caught, like a deer in the headlights. There was no reason at all for the deputy headmistress to be acting this way, she wasn't this bad upon finding that Fenella and Griselda knew.

" Constance! I only told her that, because I wasn't going on my trip, I stayed here, with you, and we were only, messing around. " Imogen pushed, desperate for the witch not to condemn or isolate herself.

The brunette huffed as she caught the tears on her fingers. Messing her around maybe, playing her like a game, and Constance Hardbroom would not stand to be somebody's toy. " Davina is okay, it's a secret" Imogen murmured, giving up. " why are you acting so childish!?" She added harshly, crossing her arms as she turned away.

How could HB do that to her? Give her such a wonderful time, but at the slightest problem, she blatantly pretends the blonde doesn't exist! It wasn't as if she had left the staff room, leaving Constance alone with the chanting teacher, it was all so ... Unfair! What possible reason did she have to hold a vendetta against her? Its not as if she burned down cackles Academy. If Amelia was here, she wouldn't accept her deputy sulking for absolutely no reason whatsoever, lest slam the door in her face. She probably blamed her for getting them caught despite the fact it was her who left her helpless in the snow as she kissed her. Unconsciously, her smooth fingertips brushed the mark on her neck and her breath hitched quietly. Damn her! Changing her mind every twenty-four hours.

" Imogen, have you by any chance seen my herbal meditation tea?" miss Bat called tentatively, sticking her head round the door of her room as the non-witch ambled down the hall. He cleared her throat.

" No, I can't say I have. Is it lost?" The blonde held back warming tears, biting the inside if her cheek.

" I believe so, Can you help me look for it?"

" Have you tried your classroom?" The younger woman shrugged softly. The witch gasped with a grin.

"Ah, good idea!" Two teachers made their way down the stairs. Imogen only tagging along to try occupy her mind of something, anything, besides a certain tall witch.

Constance Hardbroom was heartbroken. Laying on her side, hugging her pillow, crying softly, heartbroken. So this was what come of falling in... No they were never in... She couldn't even think the word! How could she have been so, so stupid! After all this time she thought heartbreak was just for silly non-witches and their tendency to simply fall in ... With any random person who happened to be passing, like in the classic novels she had once read, to successfully prove a hypothesis.

With a broken heart the girl felt helpless, useless, why her? Why after everything was it her? Never in her whole life could she Imagine Imogen Drill playing with her, if anything it ought to be the other way around. She had loved her like she was, gave her everything she could, tried her hardest, even Amelia had noticed the two were behaving rather civil, a great improvement. But Imogen chose to break her spirits down, then come loving up on her like she had been all this time, still playing the humourless game. She would only give a little and take it all back, ripping Constance of her feelings, leaving her with nothing... How could she? Truthfully, the witch thought the blonde did love her. 'Well this is what you deserve... For trying too hard' she thought to herself emptily as she drained herself of tears until there was nothing left to cry. This was her fault, how could she allow herself to fall so blindly, and inside she knew Imogen was right. She didn't know how to love. She'd been searching, wondering, thinking, lost and looking all her life, and now she wished she had let the girl limp away from the staff room. Now, she was wounded and jaded, and it was all thanks to her carelessness. The witch berated herself mentally, she had as much blame in this as the gym mistress. No, she couldn't love, and she wouldn't, not after she'd been so hurt like this. Even after the nights they spent together, the dance... The snowballs, Constance had laughed like she hadn't laughed since... She didn't know when! And then she'd love everything in the world, even herself, which made a drastic change for the woman, and it was thanks to imogen... And now... The brunette stood up sharply, causing her head to spin as a migraine formed at her temple, opting to sit back down. Oh how she wished she had begged Miss Cackle even further to not let the non-witch teach at the Academy, even if she had to drive her out herself, pushed and pushed until she broke and resigned. Anything would've been better than have her stay and leave the powerful witch like this... And now she had to live without her.

A deep desolate numbness settled in the pit of her stomach as a hand of despair pulled at her gut. Her breath came in short, painful, staggering breaths as she clutched the pillow to her chest, sitting upright, feeling nauseous. She had the most horrid feeling in her stomach, like all the butterflies had just died.

Imogen stood awkwardly in the courtyard alongside Davina, who was preparing to set off for the second time that weekend, and the blonde made sure the old witch had everything. It was odd to see the cobblestone floor, which had been covered over with snow not even half an hour ago. The blossom had recovered, springing back, overcoming their temporary freeze.

" Don't forget, she has a temper that can come as quick as lightning" Davin warned, as she pat the blondes arm in friendly sympathy.

" Miss Bat, I'm spending the holiday at Cackles with Miss Hardbroom, not parading around a town handcuffed to the woman holding dynamite " she explained with a grin.

" Oh, I don't know which sounds worse!" The chanting teacher giggled mounting her broom.

" Davina!"

" okay, okay I'm off!"

" safe flight" she smiled quickly embracing her colleague " Goodbye"

" good luck. ... Hover" the mad woman tapped her broom.

Davina somewhat admired the two teachers, it was better than their usual bickering, and Constance did need some sort of assistance. Imogen was a lovely girl who brought her fruits salad, and Constance was... Well... The point was, Imogen did love her, greatly at that. Yes, the witch was moody and arrogant at times but still... Davina Bat smirked knowingly and ran her fingers across her lips in a zipping motion.

" I'll see you next term!" The strong powerful called as a merry bat waved and flew off, leaving the blonde to bask in the bathing glows. With that, Miss Drill turned on her heels and examined Cackles Academy. Somewhere in there was a sulking Constance, and she knew better than to strike up a reasonable conversation unless she did indeed have a death wish.

The deputy headmistress watched the witch leave, from her window, as silvery tracks cascaded down her cheeks as evidence of previous crying. Not able to move, her eyes focused on the non-witch that stole and broke her heart. The golden hair blew frantically in the breeze, despite her flustered attempts to swipe the locks out of her face. Her tanned complexion seemed to glow in the miraculous sunlight, bathing her in such elegant rays of light. The captivating eyes swept over the castle. Beautiful Emerald. Emeralds that shone with fake innocence... Then she turned again and went on one of her famous midday jogs.

" I really did think I loved you," she croaked softly, her throat sore from all her sobs.

" How touching," the voice sneered and Constance Hardbroom stiffened, unmoving as if she were a gargoyle. That thin, ice cold, unmistakable voice that haunted her dreams.

Hecketty Broomhead.

A/N I hope this wasn't too confusing, but next Chapter we WILL find out Hecketty's business at Cackles and we MAY find out just what Imogen meant when Constance Overheard her.