Following the events of The Hair Witch Project, Miss Drill took some drastic action to get rid of the bubble gum. A few months later she and her Secret girlfriend Miss Hardbroom might regret it.
Me? Projecting my complicated feelings on my hair, bleach, dye, and growing it out vs shave it all off and start again ala a Lock down look etc on to a character? Never. This started as pure jokes but it's ended up getting a little heavy in the middle and next chapter there. Couple of references to the book The Worst Witch saves the Day too. next update Sunday night or Monday and last one day after that. yes you read that right , I've actually finished the whole thing first for a change. Enjoy.
Imogen's hair was getting long.
well noticeably long-ish. long for her. longer than it was before she went for the nearly-a-crew-cut look, even.
Constance is relieved. Personally, she'd felt that cuddling up to, petting and nuzzling something that resembled a bristly shoe brush didn't half kill the mood. as did getting stubble burn on her thighs. Not that she had mentioned that last one aloud! Constance had been in enough hot water when she'd said- as bluntly as the butter knife the hairdresser must have used on Imogen's locks- "It looks awful."
What Constance had MEANT was that she'd actually preferred it a teeny bit longer. Not that such a short haircut didn't suit her girlfriend, it wasn't 'her' Imogen. It was a very big change.
It hadn't mattered what Constance had meant. Because Constance had ended up sleeping in her own bed alone that weekend. Which she didn't feel was fair given Imogen had asked her opinion and was clearly upset and hated it before she'd left the salon anyway. And Miss Crotchet had been just as forthright, and had not received the same silent treatment. They made a right pair in assembly, her with an eye patch and Imogen looking ridiculous with that very close crop. Imogen hadn't spoken to her for two whole days either. and had worn a hat or her hood up for nearly a week straight till it had lost it's just cut look.
and while: yes, it wasn't THAT bad.
yes, Constance did get used to it.
Yes, it was very practical.
yes, it did fit both Imogen's sporty clothes aesthetic and her combat trousers.
and yes, it did sort of become Imogen in an odd tomboyish sort of way…
Imogen's hair was getting longer, and Constance was relieved.
Perhaps there was more magic than anticipated in that disgusting bubble gum. Imogen's hair is growing out very quickly in fact. Far quicker than one's hair does normally. less than a month after the incident you might not have realised she's had it cut so short. But, while it was growing out very very quickly, it wasn't coming in quite even. or neatly. or all at the same time. Some parts are thicker too. And it was rapidly leaving Imogen with an accidentally late nineteen seventies early eighties shaggy punk do. though not to the level when Mildred had recently scalped herself on the second day of her third year. or the red whatever the heck that was monstrosity Constance ended up with another of Enid's wayward makeover spells; albeit temporarily!
Imogen hadn't minded at first. Well she hadn't minded it being short either. Short-short had just been too short for her. After what seemed like an age of living with that just shaved fuzzy feel, she said it made her feel more like herself. hats were abandoned, stubble rash avoided and there were soft curls at the nape of her neck that Constance adored. A fact she denied if asked.
Like She'd have denied liking how Imogen ran her fingers through the long dark waves of her own. how, regardless of length, she loved the noises Imogen made when returning the contact, until Imogen was practically purring and making Morgana jealous. or now appreciated them more because of the brief time she'd been unable to card her fingers through Imogen's hair. how she can grip and hold it by the fistful now. and How she'd always thought the blonde colour was attractive for years; but now she could see differences in light and shades of it. pale where it was sun kissed, with streaks of dark honey tones at the root as it had gotten steadily longer.
Even as it did threaten to become a mullet and caused knots. tangles as she'd rediscovered were the worst to the point where Constance sat her down and dragged her own heavy paddled brush across the makings of a bird nest just above the nape of Imogen's neck.
"It's such a pain at this length." Imogen had winged as the brush pulled along the back of her head. Constance with her waist length was somewhat torn between empathy and rolling her eyes.
The fringe was just as bad.
"I need another haircut." Imogen smirked late one morning, noticing her fringe in particular was growing out at a rapid rate. she brushed it over her eye and bent forward till she was looking through it at her lover and received a bop on the head with a comb for fooling around. or for still being in just her underwear while Constance hurried about trying to look less like 'cousin it' and more presentable. They were uncharacteristically very late in getting up, to the point Constance of all people had been debating whether it's worth risking the foster's effect to be on time for assembly.
The trouble was Imogen just couldn't find the right hair dresser. She didn't trust the village salon Scissor Sisters anymore. Although to be fair that wasn't the hairdresser's fault; but there are only so many ways to get rid of a solid three pounds of enchanted bubble gum.
'Curl up And Dye' was ridiculously expensive. The hairdresser at Mane Attraction had been very pushy, wanting to give Imogen feathered or highlights neither she was interested in and had had to leave. Cutting Remarks was three bus rides away. and British Hairways followed the silly old-fashioned half day trading on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday and closed on Sundays. Not good for a busy boarding school teacher.
and rather than ask anyone to do it for her, Imogen resolved to just get it neaten up in the next holidays. even as it got harder to manage. even when it stuck out at odd angles that annoyed Constance no end and looked unkempt even after several rounds with a comb. or worse made it look painfully obvious after Imogen had just had several rounds with Constance.
and as much as she loved the way Constance's fingers were able to run her fingers through it again or curl certain locks in contemplation while cuddling, Imogen grumbled the witch had done it so often it rarely stayed flat - ("Honesty, HB, you wonder Why I have cow licks!").
Worse, at the back it started to slip under her collar tickling her neck. And at the front it was getting in her eyes while she was working or exercising for fun. with the long wispy odd bits looked even longer on top of still stubbornly short odd bits.
The girls on the other hand are delighted. And as for the fourth years;
"Miss? Miss, can you dye it pink?" Griselda oh so innocently suggested.
"or blue Miss?" Fenny suggested leaning over the bannister.
"Very funny girls." Imogen replied from the hallway below. She had been trying to have a word with Constance about who had classroom three next period. "and get off there, Fenella."
"before you make a further fool of yourself." Constance sneered. but it only seemed to egg the two teens on. "Don't you two have revision to be doing? Elsewhere."
"aw we were only being complimentary, Miss Hardbroom!"
"Teachers aren't held to the same hair colour rules we are after all."
"I think You should dye it just because you can, Miss!"
"I think that would suit you, Miss Drill."
"especially if you had it like a bubble gum blue -."
"ah! one more mention of bubble gum from anyone," Imogen interrupted; Before Constance could threaten them something nastier. "and its extra laps of the yard and star jumps during warm ups."
The girls scurried up the stairs giggling. And then paused and continued up at a quieter pace when Constance added loudly; "for your Entire class."
"You aren't going to dye it silly colours, are you?" Constance said- pleaded even, when the girls had gone.
Imogen hadn't planned to. but with a wink said, "Maybe I might. Now about that rota-?"
Just to see the look on Constance's face.
The older girls, particularly the dobs, love Imogen's 'new' hair. They think it's very cool. Very chic. Wicked even. Though if Enid calls it "x-treme" one more time, the girl is getting detention. but it is only to be expected. The DOBS are at that age where they are fascinated and discovering eyeliner rather than just blue eyeshadow and blush. Unable to go whole hog with that and nail varnish, hair was the only thing they could really experiment with within reason and the school dress code.
So unable to refuse puppy eyes or "pleeeeeease miss" outside of a PE lesson, Imogen inevitably ended up bullied into being a subject at DOBs in one of their many plait braids and playing with each other's hair sessions. To no avail.
butterfly clips looked far too babyish. The Spell Girls inspired ziggy zag hair band, though it fitted the sporty look, stabbed her scalp something awful. gel and forest runs were a match made in hell. Hair spray in a school so prone to an above average number of explosions didn't seem safe. bobbles and ribbons were a no go, school regulation ones being too thick. And Constance nearly ended up in her own bed again after nearly laughing in sudden shock of seeing one of the girl's efforts to tame Imogen's hair. It had been an alice-band that, rather than look sweet, made Imogen's hair look more like Albert Einstein's or a clown's, all sticky out at the sides. An alice band that Imogen had thrown at her before flopping against her and vowing again, not to let the girls give her a makeover.
and when Imogen finally found a hair bobble small enough and scraped it up and back; it wasn't so much a ponytail as a pony tuft.
"It looks like one of my paint brushes." Lynne had teased on another visit. Imogen, although she smirked, was having none of it. and in a huff after that, made do with leaving it as it was.
"I mean I could maybe do it myself," Imogen lamented for maybe the fourth time that week. "but when I've cut my own hair it's been just cutting off a ponytail. Or giving myself a fringe that I couldn't get it to look even. and that's not counting cutting off when I was six with safety scissors."
Constance, having never ever taken such measures, had no idea how to go about such things and pointed out she wouldn't be much help. The only hairdressing experience she'd had (other than brewing counters to contrabanned box dye charms and bleach spells) was taking a pair of herb shears to Mildred's accidently Rapunzel potion incident; to return it to the girl's normal waist length. With less chewed ends.
Besides, Constance had realised she more than quite liked the way Imogen would toss her head or blow her fringe up out of her eyes. And she liked being able to reach up to tuck Imogen's hair behind her ears occasionally, or push her hair back from her face, because it did look sexy pushed back, albeit not as often as she'd like during the day.
"Constance."
Constance blinked. "what?"
"You haven't been listening to a word I said." Imogen said, Annoyed. Then fondly and lazily dropping her arms around the witch's neck. "Are you going soft on me Hardbroom?"
"Highly unlikely Miss Drill. it must be the fumes off your shampoo getting to you." Constance said dryly. "What were you complaining about in particular?"
"just complaining again, never mind." Imogen said quietly, suddenly Content to just be Sat on Constance's desk. Something the witch would have never, ever normally allowed. Even if the blinds were drawn. especially given the lab safety rules. But stood between Imogen's legs, one hand resting on Imogen's hip, the other pushing Imogen's hair back from her face. all while Imogen's own rested at her apron straps; just looking up at her, with Imogen looking back at her?
…well Constance was More than happy to let the matter slide. Just this once. Again.
"There's the bell." Imogen sighed.
"Second?" Constance jolted. If the girls saw them like this-!
"No. It's the first bell. But Breaktime Is almost up." Imogen reassured her. Constance relaxed. Even as Imogen clambered off the table. "I'll let you go. your nerds and teachers' pets will be at the door."
"Please don't start using such Americanisms as jocks and nerds in my vicinity."
"You're the witch secretly going out with one." Imogen mocked.
"Which are you?" Constance quipped back. "Go on, out. I've to set up for the next practical, and you've made me fall behind."
"Completely my fault of course." imagen drawled, rolling her eyes. and with a peck on the witch's cheek and a wink; grabbed her bag and made to leave. She was half way down the corridor when Constance appeared calling her back.
"Miss Drill. a moment-!"
Imogen stopped and double back puzzled as Constance caught up to her. There were students about, which explained the surname usage. but Not what HB was up to. Especially as something gently forced Imogen's hand up and opened her palm up on its own accord, without anyone actually touching her.
"Here," Was all Constance said, with a flick of magic. A flick of magic that materialised several silver bobby-pins out of thin air dropping them into Imogen's hand. "I meant to give you these before."
"There was me thinking I was getting a kiss for the road." Imogen muttered.
"Shh!" Constance hissed. They both glanced around, but while there were students around, no girls were anywhere in ear shot.
"Do you want to borrow them or not?" Constance asked, with a scowl.
"These are yours?" Imogen blinked examining them. "I was beginning to think you held that bun up sheer determination."
Constance rolled her eyes. "they are enchanted. they'll match your hair once you put them in. but they live on my dressing table. In the dish. do try and leave them tidy when you're done with them for a night."
Imogen tried to make a witty remark. But the gesture hit her unexpectedly in the heart felt section. And the best comeback she could do was to give Constance an exceptionally Mushy look before the witch left; Hoping to convey she would very much like to stand Up on tip toe and give the witch a very quick thank you kiss. Constance seemed to understand at least, and permitted Imogen to give her one the next quick moment they had alone together later. and a few more once they both finished work for the day.
After the gift of hair grips there was No complaining from Imogen for at least two days. on the subject of her hair and it getting in her eyes at least. staff room 'discussions' none with standing. In fact, there were minimal complaints all day, as well as the past two weeks.
In that time Whether it was merely an illusion of tidiness or simply the magic wearing off, Imogen's hair was beginning to slow to what appeared to be a more normal growing rate. Or perhaps it hadn't but had merely just evened out. Either way, it looked neater now. and had settled into … well Imogen wasn't quite sure what to call it. a lop of hair, as Constance had called it the other night. Not quite a bob, not a pixie, not a mop.
just a lop. Kept in place by the help of two the magic bobby pins at the front; two more crisscrossed to hold the most back.
That would look to twee on anyone else. But then again, it sort of suited Imogen in Soft butch way. Or would be if she was a lesbian. Was there a butch equivalent for a bisexual woman? Constance wondered. then reprimanded herself for absent minded staring at Imogen during office hours. (Again.) and made to sit down to join the other three, (Imogen the headmistress, and the still new chanting teacher,) at the table.
It was four o'clock in the staff room. A usual time for the usual tea and biscuits between classes and supervising the actual meal tea. An end of the day general gossip and what have you. small talk of any plans for your evening and who's in detention tonight. a completely normal day occurrence. or it would have been. But then Lavina at four oh one precisely suddenly asked her and Imogen, in front of Miss cackle no less;
"So, how long have you two been together?"