This came from an anon tumblr prompt. Started out as a paragraph and ran away.

"Hell is empty," Constance thought bitterly. "And all the devils are here."

She could feel them crawling on her skin, at the back of her mind. Just as they had in her later years of her training. Paranoid untrue thoughts, insecurities and anxiety she now knew not to be her own clambered on and added to the ones Constance had grown accustomed too. Even though Imogen had done her best to be a reassuring patient partner.

Last year Constance been prepared. The others had been warned. Mildred had been hidden, with a lie about it being for the school rather then Constance's doubts what would happen to the little witch. Wards had been put around the school. She put spells and shields on her own body too, any thing to keep the dragon at bay. It'd only made Broomhead comeback with avenge it seemed. and her old pets in tow. Now Hecketty had the school. And Constance at her left hand.

"Just as you should be." Her old Mistress had said, so sweetly it could have been a compliment. But Constance knew the malice in that purr.

Did as she was told, weather she wanted to or not. Constance tried to bide her time, helping the students in anyway she could. her own little rebellion, play Broomhead at her own game. So she held her tongue. for now.

she shouldn't have wasting time panicking. She should have sprung into action. the best she could do wasn't a lot but it could have been something.

She'd barred Imogen from her room with words and magic at least and a good thing too. She didn't want Broomhead to know of them and didn't want Imogen to see what she knew was going to happen while she was in Broomhead's "care".

Old wounds opened at night of their own accord and her nightmares were worse then ever. Not enough to actually bleed of course; just enough to sting, to leave a reminder. Enough to to struggle not to cry out. Enough to make sure she couldn't sleep and that she was relying on wide awake potion. enough to make her week enough to know many spells in theory but not strong enough to use them, especially not against the old hag. Or vanish out the way to hide. Just like old times.

"Miss Cackle will return soon," Constance repeated to herself. She could dance to this tune. force herself to stay strong just for a little while longer even if she felt so weak. she'd done it before. All she had to do was stick to her schedule and avoid getting emotional. she couldn't get emotional in anyway shape or form. it'd let trouble in. But she could feel herself slipping.

Avoiding a questioning Lavina and the students (to degree) was easy. Avoiding Imogen?

"Miss Hardbroom-!" Not so much. Especially when she came running towards her. "Miss Hardbroom, wait!"

"Miss Drill, now is not a good time-" Constance snapped carrying on her way, her arms full of books. But Imogen blocked her path and stood far to close for a collogue.

"It's never been a good time, not ever since all those clocks started appearing." Imogen snapped back. Her hair was practically on end from running her hands through it as she always did when she was frustrated and the younger woman seemed as much at the end of her teacher as Constance felt. "Can I just talk to you? Just for a second?"

"Miss Drill, there's nothing to say!"

"There's plenty! Please. I know we can't-" Imogen begged, then froze. Both prayed the coast was clear but it was hard to tell. Both were more paranoid then usual true but with good reason.

"I know we can't be-" Imogen started, keeping her voice low. "But something's going on. Don't deny it. There's this whole business with keeping tabs on Mildred and she's doing something to you, i know it. all this week you've been- Please. Talk to me. There must be be something I can do."

It seemed so silly that the inspection last year was what had brought them together in a sense. Too many feelings, the stress of the day, the relief and a need to just let it all go, which then became a regular thing. And now it was all going to ruin again. Pushing Imogen away at least for now was the right thing to do. Or at least Constance hoped it was. She would explain later and just hope she'd left enough of their relationship to be resolved.

"I know what you can do, or should do." Constance managed, speaking as evenly as she could when faced with those damn green eyes.

"What's that?"

"Don't trust me."

Imogen was stunned. Nearly. "What!?"

"You heard. At all. There's no limit to what she can do." Constance said; and thought, "Especially with me."

True she could dance to one tune. But how long until could she mask that fact she still leading? The broken doll leading a puppeteer? Broomhead wouldn't like that at all, and Constance couldn't let Imogen get caught in her strings. "Make your own plans if you must but don't get me involved."

Imogen must have seen something in her eyes, seen what ever poison Broomhead had put there. She flinched but refused.

"But you know I do-" she stammered. "We all do. And you can trust me."

"You can't. Just go." Constance instructed. Imogen didn't move. "Now! You'll be late for your lesson and making me late for mine. We both and our forms would be scrutinised."

Wishing she'd had the strength to just vanish Constance made an attempt to move past. Just as Imogen gripped her arm, attempt at touch to reach out to her witch, to maybe make her see reason. Constance shrugged her off, but wasn't quick enough to stop the red shock that shot up both their arms or the yelp of pain on Imogen's part. It jolted Constance's elbow and sent her books and papers everywhere with a clatter that was bound to get someones attention while, dumbstruck, Imogen staggered back, staring at her own hand.

"Go!" Constance said but it came out as a hiss, the beginnings of a snarl. And her heart broke when Imogen flinched again those green eyes full of fear. "Don't trust me. None of you. Not on my own. Not till Miss Cackle gets back."

The last sentence was saying to much she knew but she couldn't afford to get scared too.

The PE teacher backed away, her face set in a stubborn expression that just screamed the discussion wasn't over before turning on her heel. And Constance wasn't sure if Imogen sprinted or fled to her lesson.

She should hurry to her own lesson. Pick up her things, Reign in her emotions and ignore the whispers in her ears. Instead she stayed there in the corridor staring just as Imogen had done at the hand that had shocked them. As a none witch, Imogen wouldn't have seen the magic, besides the odd spark maybe. But she felt it.

Yet it hadn't been Constance's spell that had shocked her. She cast no such kind and, while it depended on her aura and the kind of spell, her magic had a tendency to be orange hue or a grey blue. Never red. Never harmful to her students her workmates her Imogen. And she was certain it had come from the bracelet fixed under her sleeve.

Broomhead was trying to control her. Again.

Phew thanks for reading. Next up(hopefully) Amelia and Davina put in an appearance in a short with pasta!