A/N: Greetings, well guys it's drawing closer to the end, only a few chapters to go! Flashbacks go between the pov's of HB and BH just safe on any confusion.
Big thanks go to GloriaNewt for advice and helping with a particular scene (can't say what) *offers cupcake and a 'refreshment'*
*Warning* this chapter suggests themes again that's how you incorporate that but thought I should warn you guys now remember no gory, over the top details but I'll let your own imagination drum up business and draw your own conclusions. I'm hinting at adult themes but again try to maintain some decency and taste. Said themes have been heavily hinted throughout this quadrilogy and IS vital in the back story and detail explanation of the past that is slowly explaining why Constance is the person that she is.
I do not own anything and sadly as a broke student haven't made any £££ from this although it would be nice lol! I own a few characters that I have injected into this fic and have various roles but you'll know my own characters when you read them ;)
Hopefully the mistakes are kept to the minimal.
Enjoy and review. Ta muchly xx
Chapter Fourteen: Fallen Angel
Everything was still including the air.
The howling wind had long since died down and was been replaced by an odd sense of calmness. The surrounding woodland seemed to be devoid of the usual activity from the normally active wildlife.
Was this eerie calmness the eye of the storm, was there worse still to come?
Amelia had finally succumbed to an exhausted induced sleep. Her weary head firmly rested in the palm of her hand, gently snoring as she briefly recharged her batteries.
Constance remained in the world of limbo. Her body still ravaged by the lingering wide awake potion which was reluctant to surrender, to release her from the solid steal grip of addiction. The side effects that once offered a lulling almost hypnotic trance and regulated the distorted nightmares had vanished only to be replaced by the crippling effects has the heavily entwined and dependent potion still held her tightly, bound on the cellular level.
Occasional, she briefly stirred from her maddening state of mind and reliable Amelia was there, offering comfort when she could and the precious gift of life, refreshing and cooling water. The liquid splashed against her dry, parched lips and she greedily drank to quench her dizzying thirst only to fall back into the clutches of her fractured mind, rapidly free falling into the blackened abyss.
Zelda remained unmoved and unfazed as she hunched over her desk, madly scribbling what was left of her lingering and broken thoughts onto paper, trying to documents as much of the fraying details as possible. She was slowly collecting evidence, desperately needing to re-read and decipher the mysterious meaning, a cryptic clue or perhaps this marked the slow decline and demise of her gifted mind, wrapped tightly in her new found paranoia.
"Remember this was all her doing. Her fault, she forced my hand!" Muttered Hecketty, attempting to logically explain her actions, to find a perfect explanation behind her now cruel ways
In her hands, sat a new piece of teaching equipment which would install hardened discipline for those students who thought they knew everything. It would be a crash landing of reality, a rude awakening for said students.
Hecketty frowned, deep in thought. It was strange that her only dearest friend and colleague would agree to use such a device but failed to challenge him or raise her own thoughts and concerns however she did know the prefect candidate for the device and in a sickening way this would offer Hecketty some form of closure, to have the power and to make someone else feel her own pain even if it was just a sample of the years that she had endured.
A maddening glee danced beneath her cold, grey eyes feeling alive again but for all the wrong reasons.
She was loathed to admit but part of her downfall spiral, her weakness was to actually believe that a student would reciprocate the same feelings and emotions that she felt stirring within the depths of her soul and the fluttering of her thought to be dead heart.
To only be rejected, ridiculed by someone so similar that shared the same anguish as her self but it was never meant to be. To be forever shunned by the world, mockingly ridiculed by the student population and fellow colleagues, their hushed rumoured whispering followed her and only increased her infamous name and reputation.
Hecketty Broomhead had spent a vast majority of her life without the warmth of human touch, secured comfort and the affection of another forcing her to become guarded and slowly over time, the icy talons encased her heart but now revenge was at hand.
Vengeance would fill the void, the cavity within her cold heart this would be her hitting back at the world and she grinned, already selected a target to face the brunt of her wrath.
Constance stood to sharp attention in the office, prompt as usual and with the added confidence that she had slowly accumulated over the years. She knew that her work and ability was ahead of her fellow students and was pleased with her own progression however she felt the warmth of embarrassment, remembering the last occasion and reason that she had been summoned into the office. She still found herself cringing at the distinct memory of Hecketty, fearsome tutor and relentless perfectionist approached her and informed Constance that she had been selected to become her 'companion'.
The tension in the confined space of the office was heavy, threatening to crush her now shrinking confidence. A clock on the wall ticked furiously, indicating that time remained steady and the same despite Constance thinking otherwise, she patiently a waited for her tutor to speak, to say anything or to acknowledge her presence.
"Constance...I have this for you," She began
Her eyes widened. Surely her tutor was not stooping so low as to bribe her student, to win her over with trivial materialistic gifts, jewellery was strictly against the rules.
Constance felt her jaws clench tightly together, resisting the urge to speak out of turn, to refuse another proposal from her tutor but something was different. Her normally cold grey eyes were ablaze, something frightening danced behind the facade of cool collectiveness and she was not sure if she felt comfortable. After all, she stood alone, locked behind closed doors and alone with her tutor. No way to escape.
"It has been decided that the college are to trail these bracelets," She spoke slowly and deliberately, wanting to savoir the moment
Hecketty pushed herself out from her comfortable leather chair and slowly walked around, her eyes never once leaving her student that stood before her desk. She was like a hungry shark, slowly circling and awaiting for any sudden movement before closing in for the kill.
Constance's eyes remained, seemingly unfazed on the now vacant chair
"Give me your arm, girl!" She barked her order, snapping her fingers
The cold metal clicked around her slender wrist, Constance took the opportunity to examine the piece of jewellery while Hecketty marveled at her handiwork
"But, Mistress Broomhead...why?" She fatally inquired
Hecketty calmly returned to her chair, fingers interlocked and rested her elbows on the surface of the desk while her chin rested on her fingers "Oh Constance...this is just a small trial and I thought 'who better than you?'"
"But..." She attempted to complain, argue her case
"Enough! You have clearly demonstrated lack of respect to those in a position of authority, arguing with those superior to yourself!" Her snake like tongue clicked against her hard palate "I am bitterly disappointed...I thought I had taught you better."
Hecketty's eyes penetrated deep, a fire now blazing out of control. Her powerful glare had the uncanny ability to stare beyond and Constance felt her soul being scrutinizing by her unforgiving eyes. Nothing was ever hidden or sacred from the demanding tutor. She could sense hesitation and the deceptive lies from students and staff alike.
A simple gesture, a mere flick of her wrist and Hecketty relaxed into the soothing comfort of her chair.
Constance gasped. Her eyes darting from her tutor to the bracelet. Something plucked and pierced her skin, desperately clutched her wrist. Her normally pale skin reddened in reaction to the bracelet then something crawled painfully under her skin.
The pain intensified, traveling through her nerve endings, twisting the microscopic cells and caused her to paw feverishly at the device for the cause of her pain. Her knees buckled and forced her onto the stone floor, the burning sensation completely engulfed her arm.
Her bottom lip trembled. Salty tears caused her soft eyes to sting. The energy to fight vanished. The agonising pain was too much.
"Please...please Mistress Broomhead..." She pleaded pathetically at her tutor
But it was already too late.
It was her turn. Hecketty had reached out only to be burnt by rejection and now the twisted tutor took great pleasure in watching the pain and suffering of another especially Constance. She watched with fascination, raising a quizzical eyebrow with growing interest at the resourcefulness that her student demonstrated and continued to observe how her body reacted to the torture.
Constance's begging and pitiful pleas for mercy went unanswered, cowered on the cold floor while a sadistic and satisfied smile pulled at the corners of her lips forcing a sneer.
Mistress Hecketty Broomhead marched through the corridors with confidence and purpose. Her heels clicked against the uneven stone floor. Her footsteps echoed and any student wise enough to recognise her trademark sound, instantly disappeared out of sight for the fear of drawing attention to themselves or become an unwitting target for her ever, increasing anger. Everyone cowered in fear at her, she preferred it that way.
But in this scenario, she could not been seen or witnessed by prying eyes to show a flicker of emotions or leniency.
Constance sat at her small desk, hunched over studying when the hair on the back of her neck, pricked. Instantly, she knew that her personal tutor was nearby and carefully listened out.
It was her, she was coming for her.
The steady pace of the clicking grew ever closer. Quickly, Constance organized her desk and smoothed out the creases in her uniform at the precise moment the old, oak door opened to reveal her tutor. The cold eyes glaring at her and soon Constance averted her eyes, looking at the ground, she swallowed and prepared her self for whatever physical or mental tirade that was about to be unleashed.
"Be seated, Constance." Spoke a small voice
Instantly, something was different.
Obediently, she did as she was ordered and allowed her eyes to watch her tutor. Was this perhaps a new, sick game?
"A letter has arrived for you. I'm afraid it is not good news."
Constance broke the blood red wax that sealed the envelope and pulled out a letter. Her eyes quick to scan the contents of the letter, her heart briefly paused at the finishing paragraph and her head snapped upwards, looking at her tutor, unsure of what this meant for her and the future.
"Your aunt and uncle's lawyer informed me of the terrible news." She paused, her mind racing not wanting to completely portray herself as the ice maiden that was a current circulating rumour but she could hardly welcome the student into her open arms.
Hecketty could sense the rush of complex emotions and questions that radiated from the silent student, who sat numbly, unmoved. Reluctantly, Hecketty awkwardly and allowed a moment for her hand to rest upon the shoulder of Constance. A cold form of comfort but it was something.
"First, my parents...and now my only remaining family...gone!"
Hecketty knew of the troubled past that surrounded Constance only seventeen and had already experienced so much grief. She caught herself and felt her posture tighten as did her jaw, to prevent any stray, forbidden words from leaving her lips. She was confused and overwhelmed as to how she should feel and act towards her grieving student who now had no-one to depend on. The need to reassure her student despite how she had hurt her was conflicting, unsure what to do in this instance.
'You're not alone...I'm here.' She thought for a very brief moment only to bite down hard on her tongue and push that thought into the deepest and darkest parts of her mind.
Much to Mistress Broomhead's disapproval, her dearest friend and colleague Professor Hector Blackstein had insisted a change to the annual dinner of the most prestigious witches and wizards around the country to also include the invitations of allowing the best of brightest of students to accompany those and to be welcomed.
Constance Hardbroom found herself in the spotlight but as a shy, awkward teenager, she loathed to have the spotlight of attention focused on her. She much rather preferred the darkness of the sidelines, to anonymously watch.
"Good evening, Professor Blackstein." Greeted Constance
A smile instantly washed away his scowling and angry features upon seeing her "Well, good evening...Are you ready?"
She hesitated but nodded in agreement "I do not feel...as though I should be here." She admitted
He shook his head "Nonsense! Hecketty has always spoken highly of your natural talent...you are indeed ahead of the program and have every right to be here."
He placed a hand onto her shoulder to offer reassurance to her flagging confidence "Perhaps, Constance...if you were to change into something more enchanting..." He suggested
She looked at him, slightly confused but his friendly smile, demeanor and confidence radiating from him, swayed her to follow his suggestion without hesitation. Constance only wanted to please the highest authority figure of the college including her tutor.
He watched as she carefully picked her way through the growing crowds of people that were slowly arriving into the foyer.
"Ah! Hecketty, there you are..."
"Hector." She sharply answered
"Not so keen to show off...and I quote 'prize winning student'." He smirked, licking his lips before sipping a drink
"Appearances are not always to key to success...her ability far surpasses my pervious students and why on earth do you insist that the girls dress up like common Jezebels?"
He cleared his throat "My dear, Hecketty...you should know that we have always maintained the colleges best interests and name. Sometimes keeping up appearances helps...to offer the complete package so to speak...besides we must learn to maintain our traditional values and merge with current times."
She snorted "Looks can fade...dedication and commitment to enhancing one's ability does not fritter so easily in comparison to one's looks and appearances."
He shrugged his shoulders, there was no talking sense into her "A vast difference in opinion."
"I see that taking my advice has helped your confidence greatly."
Constance turned to see Professor Blackstein "I do apologise...I can change." She stuttered
He smirked "Constance, my dear...this is what these annual dinner are always about...it's always about keeping up appearances and right now you are winning the attention of the most prestigious witches and wizards...no doubt you will do great things, open doors for yourself once you graduate."
"I have not given much thought about a career...yet."
"You have plenty of studying at the moment and besides...you are still very young..." He offered her a glass of wine
She raised her hand to decline, politely "Sorry, but I'm only seventeen."
A hand rubbed his chin, deep in contemplation "You are indeed wise...knowledgeable beyond your years, far ahead of your counterparts."
"Constance!" Called a voice
"That's Mistress Broomhead...I must go."
Professor Blackstein watched as she disappeared into the crowd "Not yet eighteen?" He pondered and sipped his wine
Hecketty Broomhead watched form the shadows, hidden from the unsuspecting heights of the great hall of the college. Her eyes like a hawk narrowed with suspicion and bubbling envy as her student effortlessly snaked amongst the crowd.
For Constance, everything came so easy requiring like concentration. She was a naturally gifted witch although her one flaw was that she lacked self worth and confidence.
Hecketty briefly remembered how differently things were for her. She dedicated everything into her work, all the blood, sweat and tears in a bid to improve her ability and knowledge. Every menial task seemed to take for longer than the other students to learn and master, always looking for the approval of her peers and tutors but observing Constance, it was clear that she appeared to be facing the final hurdle and facing her fear head on.
Her teeth started to grind with rage as her eyes never left Constance and her ability to gracefully mingle between the other students and prestige witches and wizards, becoming a completely different person before her very eyes. Her smile made her heart lurch within her heaving chest.
She slowly began to realize that Constance would never be like that with her, so carefree, confident and happy. Instead Hecketty had the uncanny ability to render the student into a bumbling, stuttering coward who would gladly avert her eyes to the floor than meet her own tutor's eyes.
She would never see her for anything other than her personal tutor, a deranged witch, who's obsessive traits and relentless quest for perfection and to be the best was beginning to reflect on her young student but a part of her did secretly cling onto that want to be the reason for that smile, to be something more than a dominating tutor who was associated with the darkness and provoked fear.
Hecketty's fears were slowly coming to light that she was indeed following the same dangerous path as her mother. Something she had wanted to avoid but it was in her blood, her genetics to become just like her. A wish, Hecketty had made when she was at the tender age of five years old 'to be just like mother'.
She was truly conflicted. The inner turmoil that had been hidden and simmering for all these years had now boiled over, scorching and infected every aspect of her life. Her inability to control the inner demon which so few had witnessed, genuinely scared her, always regretting her cruel cutting words and shameful actions but could never admit to herself or anyone else that there was a problem. She would make a promise to herself, to become a better tutor, a better person and to never raise her hands at a defenseless student but then something would act as a catalyst and inevitable push her over the edge. In a split second the damage was done.
Everyone took their allocated seats at the table. Professor Blackstein had spared no expense for the show and as hosting college there were certain standards that could not be dropped especially with the competing colleges.
Constance found herself firmly wedged between a rock and hard place with Professor Blackstein and Mistress Broomhead sitting at either side of her, isolated from the other students.
The feast began, drinks were poured generously. There was laughter and general conversation taking place. Constance could only pray that the night would go in fleetingly in order to escape or failing that she wished for a mysterious black hole would open below her chair and swallow her whole.
She ate a few pieces of the steamed vegetables but pushed the remaining food around her plate, unable to taste the delicious food, reaching for her glass of water, she gulped at the liquid.
Suddenly, she coughed and spluttered the water, receiving a distasteful glare from Hecketty.
"Everything alright?" asked a fellow witch from another college, sitting opposite her
She neatly used the white napkin to dab away the excess water that seeped form the corners of her sealed lips and nodded sharply all be it dazed "I'm fine, thank you." A mousey squeak of a voice with an additional quiver
Her head began to spin, a heavy burden upon her bony shoulders and a mammoth task to maintain her straight laced posture. Hecketty sipped from the crystal glass, the blood red liquid offered that familiar warmth. A tight tingling sensation as the liquid traveled down her throat. Her fingers drummed hypnotically against the table cloth.
She leaned towards Constance "What on earth is the matter with you?" She sneered, a hushed tone into the student's ear
"Everything is fine..." She paused, knowing that her tutor could sense a lie "I feel nervous...out of my depth being at this formal dinner."
Hecketty hummed, convinced and studied her features "These dinner can do that...just try not to think about it." A reassuring reply "And try not to embarrass myself nor Hector." She snapped
Her widened eyes scanned the surroundings of the table. Everyone seemed to be completely unaware that something was happening that she was clearly uncomfortable and only managing to prevent herself from hyperventilating. Her eyes danced madly, a silent signal for help.
"Is everything alright there, Constance?" Whispered Hector as he smiled innocently
"I have to be excused!" She blurted out and attempted to stand from her seat
He shook his head that devious smile remained unfazed "Going somewhere?"
Constance felt a wave of goosebumps followed by the familiar warmth of embarrassment when his hand enforced additional pressure on her knee. A single hand prevented her from leaving, escaping.
His rough, calloused hand caressed the soft skin of her bare knee, hidden under the table. No-one suspected, the guests surrounding them were preoccupied and failed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Voices grew louder as the wine relaxed the guests, formal conversations began to sink into the background and was replaced by historical accounts of the past, tutors and lecturers swapping and offering advice to the students to listening intently.
Her panicked eyes glanced fleeting around the table but like herself, no-one noticed her. No-one noticed or paid any attention to the quiet, pale student that kept to herself but when she needed someone's help, she found herself all alone.
Her skin began to crawl as he slowly and deliberately caressed her knee, making delicate circles on her trembling leg. Constance clutched onto the edge of the tablecloth, her nails tearing at the expensive material
"I do prefer ladies with a little more substance," He cocked an eyebrow and allowed his now dilated pupils to stare, lusting at her slender thighs "Not those who resemble an emaciated stick insect..."
Her nostrils flared as her inhaled deeply, concentrating on remaining calm and orderly when in fact she wanted to scream. Constance found the courage, somewhere deep down and forcefully threw his hand off her knee. Their eyes met, staring intently at each other.
Something dangerous flickered beneath his eyes it was clear he was not used to anyone especially a female dictating to him. He bowed his head at her and offered a smirk and leaned closer towards her ear. His nose twitched at the scent of her hair and resisted the very public display of inhaling after all he had to maintain appearances, his mask under the influence of wine was starting to slip and the true nature of Hector Blackstein threatened to expose himself.
"But, you should know...eating is not a sin and I would hate for you to develop such a fixation, an obsession regardless of what other may think..." He whispered, planting the seed
Soon the light faded as did the sounds of merry laughter and the clinking of glasses.
She ran.
Her shoes pounded hard against the bare stone floor while her hair whipped angrily against her face. Hair and the threatening presents of tears blinded her but still she continued to ran, regardless.
Her chest gasped painfully for air having subconsciously held her breath, a trembling hand gripped against the throbbing side. A stitch halted her, feeling like a hot serrated blade plunged into her side preventing her from taking a steady breath.
She had escaped the dinner and the surrounding guest, her new surroundings were the cold, empty main kitchen of the college, the staff had long since retired for the night leaving a selection of deserts that was destined for the guest of the dinner.
Constance slowly made her way to the assorted and colourful decorated cakes, hypnotized by the rainbow of colours and the intoxicating aroma of the sickly sweet smells that teased and begged the inner child to sample a piece.
It had been years since she had tasted a piece of chocolate or other confectionery, strictly enforced by her domineering tutor, who banned such delights claiming that as well as rotten teeth of today's youth that it also rotted the soul and was the decay and reason for students now lacking in high standards of behavior and manners. Sugar, in her eyes rendered students unteachable and promoted self indulgence, the devil's work.
'Eating is not a sin.' Vibrated the hushed tone
On the edge of her nerves, she felt a presents standing behind her but it was the shadows of the utensils that cast twisted and distorted shapes over the stoned wall. She shivered involuntarily still able to feel the imprint of his hand that had come to rest on her skin, revolted by his touch and cringed at the texture of his hand.
Her head was swimming with embarrassment and shame, never had she been touched in such a way, it was unnerving and she did not want to feel out of control. An inner voice snarled at her, provoking thoughts and scenarios that she should have never set the ball into motion. After all, at his instructions changed into something more 'enchanting' as his request, had failed to prevent his hand from wandering into her personal space and therefore touching her.
Had she unconsciously and unknowingly given him a sign? Even so the actions and repercussions of an affair between a student and tutor was forbidden and to Constance, unethical and disgusting although Hecketty would argue against her already formed opinions, as long as it was not broadcasted or interfered, conflicted with studying and work then it was secretly allowed.
Shame, also clouded her mind. Constance had always enjoyed the lectures that Professor Blackstein seldom held but tonight, she had witnessed him in a different light. She respected him and his work but nothing more. How could she? He was much older and the thought of his touch only revolted her, bile burning her throat.
Would he acknowledge his actions? Offer an apology or explanation? Perhaps the selected grape for tonight and the combination of an empty stomach had clouded his judgement and acting on dulled senses and flying fantasy was a plausible reason. Whatever the reason, Constance would not be looking forward to her next encounter with the Professor.
Hungrily and savagely, she grabbed a spoon and immediately shoveled the soft, chocolate sponge into her salivating mouth.
She was alive again, remembering fondly just how satisfying and rewarding the sweet taste of chocolate was but one mouthful was not enough. Greedily stuffing the homemade cake into her mouth, she was determined to eat through the pain, her conflicting thoughts.
There was a sudden noise and Constance froze like a statue and waited. There was nothing she could possibly do to escape the kitchen. Footsteps disappeared into another part of the college but she remained still, unmoving, her eyes caught sight of her reflection. The metal reflection from the industrial sized fridge distorted her image like a fun house mirror. Her head hung in humiliation at the sad sight of herself. She had stooped to a new low, everything was falling apart like a delicate house of cards.
Her twisted image in the fun house mirror caused her to carefully look at herself, everything out of proportion, nothing perfect. She strived for control and perfection in everything, every aspect of her life but the only thing she failed and could not control was her body.
In anger and desperation, she snatched the ruined cake that she greedily picked apart and threw in to the ground with a heavy slap against the stone floor. She viciously washed away the evidence from her face causing her pale skin to redden and grow attention.
The thought of returning to the dinner, the table where she was pinned between Hector and Hecketty caused her stomach to lurch. How could she possibly survive another painstaking minute wedged between them both clambering for her but remained unknown to the other?
Amelia snapped awake, in a panic. How could she possible sleep at a time like this? If the roles had been reversed then she highly doubted that Constance would have succumbed to the need for rest.
Constance lay on her side, curled into a tight ball, furiously her body trembled. The nerves causing her muscles to ripple giving the illusion that something foreign clambered beneath her almost transparent skin.
Amelia sighed and rubbed at her exhausted eyes, the sight of her daughter, still the battle raged on. She had assumed that the lack of withdrawal was the beginning of the end of her suffering, apparently not.
There was a sudden inhalation, a gasp of air as if she had been holding her breath.
"Constance...what's wrong, my dear?" She consoled her
The body feverishly shivered, no longer in complete control over her body and its actions both infuriated and mortified her.
"Amelia?" She strained to speak without the associated threat of immanent tears
"I'm here...always." She replied, taking a seat on the bed. A hand checking her forehead
"Please Amelia...where is it?"
She frowned. Her mind whirling at what Constance was asking of her "Where is what?"
"You bumbling...incompetent fool!" Her voice filled with malice, eyes ready to combust with rage "The last vial...my potion...my salvation." She spat with fury