Here's the second chapter! This story has taken over my headspace lately, and I've got the last-but-one chapter written as well as the first half of the third chapter, so there's a good bit to come. I'm aiming to keep the chapter lengths at around the 3000 word mark. Thanks to all the reviewers, including CirqueduGleek, who reviewed this prior to posting.

Sue Denham: hello to you too; it's good we've both reappeared together, as it were. I've now read all of Closure and enjoyed it very much!

Lemondrop: I've only seen a few House eps, so no link there, except that they're both essentially sixteenth century quotes. 'Pox' was short for smallpox, but could be used as a generic descriptor of any number of spotty illnesses, including bubonic plague itself. The title of this fic comes from Romeo and Juliet .*removes historian hat*

Anyway, on with the show….

CHAPTER TWO

'I know many of you are still not very well, but it's time to get back to normal. After all, this is a school, not a hospital!'

A feeble titter greeted Miss Cackle's words, enough to cover Enid's, 'Lately, it's been both,' hissed into Maud's ear.

Maud responded with a dig in the ribs and a meaning stare in Miss Cackle's direction. With only half the school present in the Great Hall, Maud was very aware that whisperers could be identified more easily than usual.

Furthermore, judging by Miss Drill's glare, they had already been noticed, and she knew that the Games mistress was getting twitchy from unaccustomed inactivity. The last thing she wanted was to find herself doing some 'gentle' aerobic exercises intended to 'build up your strength'. As a result, she returned her attention to Miss Cackle and her peroration, checking out of the corner of her eye that Enid had done likewise.

'Those of you who are well enough – that is, everyone here now – will return to lessons. Since so few of us can do magic at the moment, it will not be completely as normal, but we'll do our best, won't we, even if we can't "keep our cauldrons bubbling nicely"!'

Miss Cackle paused in her pep talk to smile, and the girls smiled back, albeit a little reluctantly. Some of them were well enough to enjoy the respite from lessons.

'That will be all for now. Off you go to your form rooms, and remember to work together and help each other. You never know, without being able to fall back on your magic, you may discover some unknown talents!' Miss Cackle beamed at them in her usual fashion, before loudly suggesting that Miss Bat might like to play them out.

'I hate cheerful people first thing in the morning,' Enid grumbled as Miss Bat began a shaky rendition of Onwards, Ever Striving Onwards at the piano and they began to file out of the Hall. 'And Miss Cackle's the worst of the lot. Honestly, she doesn't even look as if she's been ill, so it's all right for her to go on about going back to normal.'

'Oh, stop complaining, Enid,' Jadu reproached. 'I think Miss Cackle's right. It'll be good for everyone to experience life without magic for a bit.'

'That's a very –' Enid started to snap before she closed her mouth shut, tossed her head, and went on into the room that was their temporary form room. Rumour had it that Miss Hardbroom refused to countenance anyone going near her beloved potions lab until magic levels were restored.

'What's up with her?' Ruby asked of Maud and Jadu, her eyes wide. 'She's been permanently grumpy for weeks.'

'My mum would say she's not a good patient,' Jadu, a doctor's daughter, agreed. She put a hand on each of her friends' elbows and began to urge them towards the classroom door. 'Come on. Let's get going. Even though poor Millie's not here, you can bet HB'll still be watching us and I don't think I could cope with one of her detentions just now.'

Ruby laughed, but Maud bit her lip as she allowed the other two to tow her into the classroom.

She was worried about Mildred, who had spent the past couple of nights wrestling with bad dreams that had triggered a renewed temperature spike. In addition, Maud had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what Enid had so narrowly avoided saying to Jadu, and her heart sank. They'd always been such a happy band at Cackle's, leaving aside the odd blip, and she hated to think that the politics of the wizarding world outside were finally starting to leak into Castle Overblow along with the wind and the rain.

I wonder if Enid reads the papers? she thought uneasily as she took her seat, Mildred's empty place beside her gaping a hole. Does she know what's going on? She's not a pureblood snob, not like Ethel, but for a minute there-

Her dark cogitations were interrupted by the door opening, and all thoughts of Enid and politics fled. Maud's jaw dropped, and it took a supreme effort to pull her face into a bland expression as a bathchair-ensconced Miss Hardbroom was wheeled up to the front of the classroom by Miss Drill.

'Stop gawping, girls, and no talking,' Miss Hardbroom commanded in a whisper that was a shadow of her usual tone. 'I'm no more an invalid than any of you, appearances to the contrary. Thank you, Miss Drill.'

Maud blinked as Miss Drill started to say something, but Miss Hardbroom waved a hand. 'Thank you, Miss Drill,' she repeated as forcefully as she could, and the Games teacher shrugged and departed, no doubt seeking her own form.

Miss Hardbroom's eyes narrowed as she looked over the class. 'Hmmm, we're not exactly a shining example of attendance this morning, are we,' she noted. Seated behind the teacher's desk, she almost looked her usual self – although that was given the lie by her disconcertingly authoritative near-whisper. Miss Hardbroom was not in the habit of whispering, authoritatively or otherwise.

Her gaze fastened on Maud.

'Maud Moonshine, I take it your usual partner in crime will not be joining us today.'

'No, Miss,' Maud admitted softly. 'Miss Bat told her to stay where she was. Her temp's gone up again.'

'How like Mildred, to run the most spectacular fever in the school,' Miss Hardbroom observed, the lines at the corners of her mouth deepening. 'I suppose our other absentees are also still suffering from our malady.'

'We're all still suffering,' Maud heard Enid snark from behind her. Her hand itched; never had she so longed to slap Enid as she had over the past month.

'Ethel's terribly sick, Miss,' Drusilla volunteered importantly from the other side of the classroom. 'She vomited three times last night. Projectile vomiting, too.' She cast a triumphant glance in Maud's direction, and Maud rolled her eyes.

So now we're competing about symptoms, she thought incredulously, and almost cheered when Miss Hardbroom said in her driest tones, 'Thank you, Drusilla. I'm sure we were all longing to know that.'

'Miss, why are we here?' Enid dared, perhaps spurred to rashness by the very visible frailty of their usually indomitable form mistress. 'It's not as if we can do any real work, is it.'

Miss Hardbroom skewered her with a glare that held all its usual venom, bath-chair or no bath-chair. 'Is that so, Enid Nightshade? In that case, you can be the one to distribute the books on the desk.'

She moved her glare to the class at large, and raised her voice as much as she physically could. 'Next year you'll be preparing for your Junior Witches' Certificate, and it won't hurt you to read through Intermediate Potions and Potionmaking for the moment.'

The class groaned, Maud along with them. IPP, as it was known, was the most detested textbook the third years had, mainly – as Mildred had once said sorrowfully – because it was extremely dense, with little in the way of pictures.

'Quiet, please,' Miss Hardbroom warned. She glanced out of the windows to the miserable autumn day outside. 'I understand Miss Drill was hoping to take out those of you who have recovered more than others; perhaps you would prefer that?'

Silence fell at once, broken only be the sound of Enid handing out the books, with rather less care than could be expected. When it was Maud's turn, the book was almost thrown, heedless of the proximity of Miss Hardbroom and Maud's own protested, 'Enid! Get a grip, will you?'

'Oh, shut up,' Enid returned in a hiss before moving on, and Maud bit her lip and tried to suppress the sudden tears that had come to her eyes.

What was wrong with Enid these days? She could understand that her usually disgustingly healthy friend hated the inconveniences of illness – and magical illness at that – but the truth was, Enid was one of the lucky ones. She'd been really ill for only four days, in contrast to Maud's own ten, Ethel Hallow's fortnight, and Mildred's near-month.

Maud pulled her book towards her, absently smoothing the leaves as she flipped to the pages Miss Hardbroom indicated. Was that it? Did Enid resent her swift return to something resembling health? And if so, why on earth?

The letters danced on the page as she tried to read and think at the same time. Now that she was able to consider it properly, she realised that Enid's mood had been – off – ever since they returned to school for the second half of the Christmas term. She'd been fine before that, Maud was certain. So what had changed?

Everything's changed, she answered herself sadly as she remembered her own holiday. The Moonshines were an old pureblood wizarding family, but not a particularly prominent or wealthy one. All the same, she remembered overhearing a worried discussion between her parents during the break. They had wanted to take Maud away from Cackle's, something about it being too Muggle-friendly and just not safe. Maud had found herself eavesdropping by accident, and she'd been too embarrassed by that to burst in and demand an explanation, but now several disparate things she'd noticed over the holidays began to come together in her mind.

Her mother's nervousness. Her father's haunted eyes. The deserted state of Diagon Alley the day they went shopping, and her mother's palpable anxiety the entire time, her refusal to relax and browse as she usually did. Maud had noticed that more than anything, since her shopping was one of her mother's favourite activities.

Had something similar happened to Enid? Or… worse?

'Have you finished, Maud?' Miss Hardbroom's voice demanded wearily, and Maud jumped guiltily, startled out of her reverie.

'No, Miss,' she confessed reluctantly, dropping her eyes to her book and wincing in anticipation of Miss Hardbroom's explosion.

Instead, her form mistress sighed. 'Just do what you can until the bell goes.'

'Yes, Miss.' Maud immediately returned her eyes to her book and began to concentrate, unwilling to push this unheard-of leniency too far.

Everything really has changed, she thought fleetingly before forcing her brain to immerse itself in the intricacies of the chemical make-up of Wide-Awake Potion.

xxx

The bell had just gone for Break, and Amelia was still seated in her office, staring longingly at the plate of cheesecake Mrs Tapioca had sent up for her. It looked delicious, as Mrs Tapioca's sweets often were (the less said about her savoury food, however, the better – especially when Constance was permitted to design the menu). The base was golden and crumbly, just as Amelia liked it, with a good topping of just the right thickness and consistency. She knew, even without tasting it, that the whole would slide down easily, a divine moment of selfish indulgence.

Which was precisely why she was seriously considering feeding it to the cat, who was lurking hopefully on top of filing cabinet behind her. She could not help thinking that such enjoyment would be wrong when her staff and pupils were still suffering the effects of the magical epidemic, and the wizarding world beyond seemed to be heading for some sort of apocalypse. She pushed the cheesecake away and pouted at it, almost as a child does when deprived of a treat.

It just wasn't fair. What had Cackle's done to be victimised like this? They'd always kept such a low profile, avoiding as much controversy as they could. Granted, that had become more difficult since the advent of Mildred Hubble, but even Mildred at her most heedless could not possibly be considered responsible for their current situation. Even if, being Mildred, she was the first to fall before the foe.

'We've been targeted,' Amelia muttered fiercely, absently stabbing the table with her fork in her agitation. 'And I'll bet everything I have that my sweet sister is at the bottom of it, somehow.'

That thought reminded her of the paper Minerva McGonagall had thrust into her hands, and Amelia – rather sheepishly, it must be confessed – extracted it from the back of the drawer she'd shoved it in on her return from London. Dealing with a magic-draining epidemic was quite enough, she'd thought at the time, without taking on the woes of the entire wizarding world as well.

The sound of altercation outside the office made her look up from the paper she had spread across the table, and she sighed as she heard Imogen say something that sounded like, '…bloody stubborn!'. No prizes for guessing who she was talking to, Amelia thought as she placed her hands on the desk and pushed herself to her feet.

She opened the door to the sight she'd expected. Constance in her bathchair, sheet white, but her posture as straight and as unyielding as ever, and an exasperated Imogen, arguing that Constance really should call it a day and return to her room.

'I am not in the habit of shirking my duties, Miss Drill, whatever you may do,' Constance rasped haughtily. 'We are returned to normal, or whatever passes for normal around here, so naturally Iwill return to my usual routine.'

'It's not real normality, is it, Constance,' Amelia pointed out as she joined them, noting how Constance's lips thinned and Imogen's eyes rolled. Honestly, sometimes her staff required more management than the pupils.

Constance shot her a look that Ruby Cherrytree would probably characterise as 'well, duh!'.

'No, Headmistress. I assure you, I am literally painfully aware of that. However, as I have pointed out to Miss Drill many, many times, we are not truly physically ill. It would be difficult, but not impossible, for us to go about our normal routine provided we do not attempt magic. Therefore, I would appreciate it if she – and you, and Davina – would stop this infernal hovering!'

'Constance –' Amelia tried again.

'Leave it, Amelia!' Constance hissed. Her gaze shot daggers at Amelia and Miss Drill equally. 'I am fine. If I require assistance, I will ask for it. In the meantime, I need nothing more than my desk and the pile of hopelessly bad essays I am certain the third year will have left for me!'

Imogen's eyes found Amelia's, and they were wide open with shock. Amelia shrugged and said tonelessly, 'If you would be so kind, Miss Drill. I believe Miss Hardbroom would like to return to work.'

And with that, Amelia turned on her heel, walked to her office, and shut the door behind her with a firmness that almost turned it into a slam. Hurt mingled uneasily with rare anger. How dare Constance speak to her in that fashion, as if she was an unruly child and not Constance's boss – nay, her friend, if Constance Hardbroom could be said to have any friends. She certainly didn't deserve them.

Thoroughly annoyed, Amelia retook her seat and eyed the cheesecake she had so heroically been planning to feed to the cat. Her eyes narrowed and the lines of her face became resolute.

She drew the cheesecake towards her and studied it. Then she picked up her fork and rammed it through the cheese topping and biscuit base, relishing the high clink she heard when stainless steel hit porcelain. She scooped a large forkful and brought it to her mouth.

She closed her eyes and savoured its sweet smoothness. Sacrifice be damned.

xxx

In the staffroom, the air was thick with tension. Constance sat at her desk, her entire body swaying with the ferocity of her pen strokes as she attempted her marking. Imogen sat in the comfy chair, idly tossing a ball, heedless of the fact that the repeated sound of skin-on-ball contact was likely to rile Constance further.

And Miss Bat, naturally, had retired to the cupboard. Apparently, she was confiding her woes in the furniture, for a high murmur exuded from the cupboard the entire time, accompanied by the occasional ominous wobble.

The silence, broken only by the pat-pat-pat of Imogen's ball and Davina's murmuring, continued for some minutes. Imogen watched as Constance's form grew stiffer and stiffer, noticed how she flinched at each 'pat' from the ball and cry from Davina, and found that for once she did not care.

Eventually, Constance took a deep breath and turned to face Imogen. 'Miss Drill, I would appreciate it if –'

'Frankly, Miss Hardbroom, I don't care what you'd appreciate,' Imogen said in tones that were icy enough to belong to Constance herself. 'You were unforgivably rude out there.'

'That's none of your business,' Constance returned swiftly. Perhaps too swiftly. She turned back to her marking.

'I hate to remind you, but I am a member of the teaching staff, just as much as you are,' Imogen responded sharply to Constance's back. 'You had no possible right to speak to Amelia as you did, especially when she was just showing concern. Or trying to.'

Constance said nothing.

Imogen sighed. 'Have it your own way.' She crossed to the cupboard and rapped the door lightly. 'Davina, it's all right now. Come on out. We can go down to the kitchens and talk Mrs Tapioca out of autumn fruit salad.'

Davina's wild grey head peeped timidly around the door. 'With sherry-flavoured cream?' she asked hopefully, her large grey eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

Imogen relaxed and smiled. Davina would never change. 'We could always ask.' She glanced at the Deputy Headmistress and her tone became cold. 'Miss Hardbroom wishes to be left alone.'

And she ushered Miss Bat out of the staffroom, leaving Constance alone.

xxx

*rattles upside down witchy hat* Reviews, please?