By the time she was back between the same cold, bland four walls of her bedroom, Constance was beginning to regret her decision. She hated being looked at in that way but she was so tired of being alone. If today proved anything though, it was that she didn't have to be alone; she was choosing to be lonely. Reprimanding herself sharply for being self-indulgent once again, she pulled the third year essays out of her desk. Since she couldn't sleep, it was logical for her to do something productive. Hopefully the errors in Mildred Hubble's work would drown out the melancholic thoughts and early morning angst that she couldn't seem to banish. Constance read with her usual degree disbelief. Honestly! That girl had deemed it appropriate to mention cheese in her essay about the categorisation of medical potions. Despite her initial incredulity, Constance smiled. Mildred had given her an idea.

In a very similar room, although admittedly more girly, across the castle, Imogen had fallen into a troubled sleep. Constance's abrupt exit from her room had upset her but after deciding there was nothing more she could do tonight and there would be plenty of time to help Constance tomorrow, she went to bed. For now, she would escape into sleep. Well, that may be what she had wanted but wasn't what she got. Shortly after she had fallen asleep, Imogen had what was, objectively speaking, a rather clichéd dream. It was the classic scenario of someone drowning. Imogen was the one standing on the shore trying to save Constance. After that dream and Constance's brusque reaction to her, Imogen woke feeling disheartened and worried once more. That was until she saw something under her door: a piece of paper. Eying the door suspiciously, she went to fetch it. It was a note. Imogen couldn't believe it; the note was from Constance.

Imogen,

1am in the kitchens.

Constance

Imogen had absolutely no idea what the note could mean, yet she took it to be Constance's way of reaching out to her. Imogen smiled when she reread the note, realising that Constance had reverted to calling her Imogen again.

For the rest of the day, both women's thoughts were occupied by that note. Imogen wondering what it could mean. What would she find when she got to the kitchens? Constance spent the day worrying about whether it was such a good idea after all. For both women the night seemed to slow to an intolerable pace.

Each deciding that they should be early rather than late, they met by the stairs leading to the kitchens at 12:50am.

"You received my note then Miss Drill." Such an obvious fact, it really didn't need pointing out but Constance was stalling and Imogen was well aware of it.

"Ah, back to 'Miss Drill' again. I wondered how long it would take." Constance, as her companion knew she would, chose to ignore this.

"Shall we proceed to the kitchens?" Imogen smiled to herself, she'd always loved Constance's quirky old-fashioned manners. She did 'proceed' to the kitchen, thinking for once that she would be the one to take the lead.