Disclaimer: don't own anything to do with Worst Witch.

Just a little filler chapter because I haven't updated in awhile. Not much just a little snack so to speak.

Once they had been startled awake, neither could escape back into sleep. Imogen couldn't shake the feeling that Constance was in pain. She wanted to go and check on her but she knew that she couldn't test the boundaries of their newly formed relationship; not yet. Imogen feared that it would be all too easy to push her away again. So, out of sheer frustration, Imogen decided to meet her faithful friends – the training shoes that had never let her down – for a run in the woods.

In a room not too far away, the omniscient Constance Hardbroom heard her friend leave her room. Knowing her as she did, she knew she had gone for a run. Normally when she couldn't sleep Constance would do some marking or lesson plans, not that she needed anymore, to distract herself. But now she had to know, why is this woman always running?

Constance quickly donned her most appropriate woodland attire and set off to find her new friend. She didn't join her but flew just out of sight above her, so that she could watch without being seen. Imogen seemed so free, so uninhibited. It made Constance sad, why couldn't she run free? She couldn't stand to watch her for much longer, envy was not becoming of a witch.

Back at the castle, Constance marked to second years' potions test; Mildred Hubble had spelt hemlock wrong,

again, (honestly that girl!) up until she heard Imogen come in from her run. She decided that as Imogen had made the first move, she would make the second. Of course she would wait until Imogen had settled from her run.

Ten minutes later Imogen was surprised to open the door to find Constance standing there a) because it was the infallible Miss Hardbroom and b) because it was half past three in the morning.

"Sorry to interrupt but I knew you were awake as I heard you go for a run. I wondered if I might talk with you for awhile."

"Constance, is everything alright?"

"Perfectly, just wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, come on in."

Once inside, Constance realised she had never seen Imogen's room before, not surprising really given their history. It was more feminine than she had expected, not that Imogen was butch, she'd just been surprised to see so many figurines of ballet dancers. Everything about the room emphasised just how different the two women were. Imogen had a green duvet cover with little flowers on it, much more pleasant that Constance's purple one with little witches on it. Imogen's room was busy and chaotic, much like her hair and her chairs were soft. Constance found these chairs comfortable, much to her surprise. It was alright to sit there for a moment but she wouldn't be taken in by this New Age nonsense about the value of comfort.

Whilst Constance had been studying the room, Imogen had been studying her. She still looked tired.

"So you want some tips on how to redecorate?" Constance threw her a confused 'what planet are you on?' look.

"You said you wanted to ask me a question and you were studying my room intently."

Constance's eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Sorry, just a joke," she should have known humour wasn't the right tactic, "what did you want to ask me?"

"Why do you run so often?"

"To work off stress and clear my head. It forces me to think about things properly. You should try it."

"Why were you out in the middle of the night?"

"It really doesn't matter what woke me, I just couldn't sleep once I had awoken." Imogen knew that Constance didn't believe in psychic connections or anything like that. She knew Constance would scoff at her for saying that she had known something was wrong.

"What are you doing up anyway?" This seemed more appropriate than to say 'I know you were startled awake by something troubling, so what was it?' but far less effective.

"Just had a bit of an unfortunate dream that's all." Trust Constance to put it that way, 'unfortunate' as if she couldn't attend a party she never really wanted to go to in the first place.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No, it's late. But I do want, well need really, as hard as this is for me to admit," take a deep breath Constance, "some company. I do get lonely sometimes especially if I am left alone with my memories."

"Sure I'm wide awake now anyway." Imogen wasn't at all, in fact her eyelids where getting heavier by the second but she could see the effort and tremendous courage it took for Constance to open up like that and she didn't want to let her down.

"Imogen, if you could change the past. If you could lead a different life, would you?"

"To tell you the truth, I never wanted to be a teacher. Since I was 4 years old I have dreamed of being a …"

"… Ballerina. The figurines give you away." Constance smiled to herself, what fun it was to imagine little Imogen dancing around her room.

Imogen was slightly taken aback. Wow, this woman has such a great eye for detail. No wonder she looks at me as though I'm inferior.

She continued regardless.

"This may never have been what I wanted but I love my job. Our past experiences have shaped the people we are today. Change the past and you change us." Probably not the best thing to say to someone that clearly wasn't happy.

"Yes. For some people that is a good thing though." Suddenly Constance had a look that Imogen had never seen on her before and never wished to see again. Deep seated misery that you can't change your past for better memories. A small glimmer of regret that told Imogen that Constance wanted to abandon the Ice Queen forever.

If Constance hadn't been shaped by her past, she wouldn't be Miss Hardbroom. That thought saddened Imogen. For better or worse she was their Miss Hardbroom and in their own way they all adored her.

Imogen reluctantly realised that the pain and longing was back in Constance's eyes. The smiley, chatty woman (well as close to one as Miss Hardbroom would ever come) from early had gone back to where she had been hiding. At that moment, Constance recognized that she was being subjected to scrutiny again and she didn't like it. She didn't like the way Imogen looked at her.

"Anyway Miss Drill, if in a flight of fancy you decide to go on another run in the middle of the night please do so more quietly. Goodnight."

With that she left the room in a dignified manner but with something else. What was it? Oh yes, shame. Shame because she had alluded to being miserable. Shame because she had let her guard down. Shame because she was weak. Shame because Imogen pitied her.

Imogen was somewhat surprised by Constance's sudden exit. She had hoped that once she had peeled the first layer it would be easier. Miss Hardbroom was back. She knew it was too much to hope for everlasting miracles.