Hello again :) Sorry for slight delay, stupid illness. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! It means a lot that people actually read my mental ramblings lol.

Here is the next chapter (if you hadn't already guessed that!) Let me know what you think as it was rather awkward to write :S Enjoy!

Chapter 2

She turned away from the window and walked towards her bed, though still felt the stare of the vacant window burning into her back. It was a cruel and mocking gaze, one of something which held all of the answers to confirm or deny the churning discomfort in her mind yet refused to relinquish them. The truth lay in the hazy darkness, between the raindrops falling ever faster towards the Earth from the darkening sky which seemed to chatter in a language only they could decipher as they fell to their deaths on the cold unforgiving ground.

Constance looked at her bed, the thin blanket folded neatly and with precision across a thin mattress; it offered no warmth or comfort, just a place to indulge in the rituals one had to in order to survive. The simple life was one Constance had chosen a long time ago, rarely allowing herself the small pleasures that others took for granted every day.

Everything she did and every habit she had formed stemmed from the years she had spent in the confines of the Witch Training College, though she tried with all of her strength to deny it. She had walked out of that building as someone else, someone whom she had at first barely recognised yet now had come to understand and, in part, accept. Constance blamed herself for all of her deepest regrets, for losing the life she could have otherwise had. In a way by never allowing herself the indulgences of life, the extra hour in bed when she had time off or the bittersweet taste of wine after a difficult day, she was serving her own justice and punishing herself for misgivings she could not accept were not her own.

Of course, that was the Constance that no-one got to see. That was the woman behind the mask, a fragile and vulnerable woman with the past consuming her with guilt and self loathing; sometimes she seeped onto the disguise she wore daily, but not often. Even when she did, no-one knew more about her than she allowed them to know, so nobody asked and nobody questioned her.

From time to time, they noticed how she rarely ate or how she would stay awake all night just to avoid the haunting dreams, but they never asked. In this way, and in most ways, Constance was very much alone. She pretended far too often that she didn't mind, even that she liked it that way; every once in a very long while, she would steal the wish that someone, anyone, would dare to dig deeper and realise that the mask was not unbreakable, but impossibly fragile and given the right calming touch of a person she could call a friend it would surely shatter.

She knew now staring vacantly at the bed that slumber would bring nothing to her but unwanted dreams, plaguing her thoughts until she woke and shaking her for hours afterwards. Flexing her fingers, Constance watched as golden sparks flew from the tips and tried to clear her frantic mind. She closed her eyes, banishing all of her troubled thoughts to a place where they would not roam free, and concentrated only on the spell she was attempting to cast.

Her hands moved through the air as though she was conducting an orchestra, with grace and elegance that few would have guessed could come from such a stern and hard faced woman. As she opened her eyes, she watched as a great ball of cracking fire formed and hovered in the air before her. It illuminated the room, casting shadows on the walls and even drowning the persistent patter of the rain outside with its gentle roar.

From the main orb, fingers of flame reached out and extended to the ground where they morphed into gracious creatures. A deer with its head raised high walked majestically around the room emitting a powerful glow and a hawk rose burning brightly, flying up to the ceiling and circling overhead; but it was not enough.

Constance knew that something was wrong and could not truly dismiss her own concerns by locking them away in the depths of her guarded soul. The deer stopped to look at her, turning its head to the side and staring deeply into her own uncertain eyes. It could offer no comfort, the fire not even warm as she reached to touch it; she didn't know why she had tried, knowing perfectly well that the creature was of her own creation. Yet as her fingers became intertwined in the flames she did feel something, a connection which made her gasp and pull away. The orb fizzled to nothing, the animals which had once danced so regally before her fading to nothing and the last light to die was where the deer's eyes had been, still watching her and trying to tell her what it never could in words, and perhaps what she already knew.

Standing for a moment, Constance took short deep breaths to try to calm her beating heart. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel so unnerved by things she did not even understand and she felt hot embarrassment rise to her cheeks as she realised her magic had, for the first time in a long while, failed her. It was her lack of concentration which had led to the spell's demise and she scolded herself, even daring to mutter aloud and digging her nails uncomfortably into her palm; she would not rest that night.

Gathering her books and papers, she vanished into thin air and materialised at the long table in the dark and lifeless staffroom. She waved her casting fingers and a single candle appeared on the table, burning with a meagre light which barely broke the mighty hold darkness had taken across the room. She sat at the table, conjuring a pen from nowhere, and set her mind to the only thing which would not suffer from her wandering mind.

The monotony of work was like her own guilty pleasure in a way, though it was not quite an indulgence as it had to be done. Her mind worked in overdrive for so much of the day that getting the chance simply to sit and write or mark books was the only chance she got to relax and escape, taking a strange comfort in knowing that she would find nothing untoward between the pages, simply innocence and sometimes sparks of genuine intelligence. To her, as she sat writing with only the scratch of pen against paper to disturb her ears, the world seemed to stop. Time seemed not to pass, with the endless raging of the weather becoming part of her surroundings and everything seeming, for once, to be connected in peace.

Yet still she could not shake the feeling nesting deep within that something was watching her. Constance had always been able to sense such things, though only once before had it been as strong and restless as it was now.

She remembered all too well when she had looked up at the building before her, high and mighty with such promise and hope seeping from its walls. Everyone around her was excited, buzzing with happiness and the daring feeling of uncertainty which came with the opportunity they had been given; their lives had begun. But Constance had lingered for a moment outside the wrought iron gates, simply staring at the dull granite structure with unsettling thoughts swimming around her mind. She was young, younger than those around her, though she felt that as though as their lives were beginning hers was coming to its end.

There was something, a malevolent force, hidden between the blocks of stone which seemed to hiss to her like the call of a snake before it attacks and she knew that it was aimed at her. Constance had wanted to run, to leave this dark place and stay away to protect her fragile body; she had known that this was not an option. Had it just been for her, she would have run a thousand miles to get away and if it was only her own happiness at stake, she would never even have looked back; but it wasn't. There was more lying on her decision to walk through those gates and to end this part of her life than anyone would ever know and that was why, in one final selfless act of her innocent youth, she took a deep breath and walked in.

Xxx

Amelia woke early, just as the sun dared to creep over the horizon and shine its weak light through the gaps which had formed in the dark storm clouds. Only for an hour would it give this light before fading beneath the thick clouds and going into hiding once more. The rain had finally relented, though the echoes of its power glistened maliciously in the puddles which covered the sodden ground; the chaos was far from over, this was a simple interlude in the symphony of anarchy.

She walked leisurely to the staffroom, taking time along the way to gaze at the beauty of the morning from the many open windows which graced the castle walls and to think of the day ahead. It was at this point, at the beginning of the final term of the year, where the headmistress felt most at ease. The girls needed less guidance as they began preparation for end of term exams and took on more independence and things seemed to run their course fluently like a boat sailing silently across a calm ocean.

As Amelia walked into the room, she was surprised to see her deputy sat at her usual spot on the table, head bent over and hand scratching words furiously onto the page, surrounded by piles of work which almost concealed her from view. Her hair was in its usual bun, scraped back in a gesture which Miss Cackle often thought unnecessary for the pain it must cause, and she wore another of her black dresses; she looked, in other words, as she always did every morning. Then why was it that this morning felt different?

'Good Morning, headmistress,' Constance said lightly without looking up. Amelia moved across to make herself a cup of tea, though her eyes would not leave Constance's image. She wondered how long the younger woman had been there, sitting alone and in silence working diligently neither through need or the desire for acknowledgement; it seemed so unusual to her, even after having known the woman for so long.

'Have you been there all night, Constance?' she asked carefully, taking the cup into her hands and feeling its warmth tingle at her fingertips. Constance lifted her head as she added the paper to one of the piles and turned to the headmistress. Her eyes gave nothing away, no hint of tiredness or anxiety, but though there were no bags beneath her eyes she gave the distinct impression of an unease Constance had attempted to suppress through work.

'Yes,' she answered simply, as though there was nothing wrong with such a reply.

Amelia sighed heavily, though she could still not place why she thought it so impossible. The deputy headmistress was hard working to say the least, and it was not out of character for her to continue through the night. Perhaps it was as a woman who knew the value of relaxation and the importance of taking a break that she worried for Constance's health as much as her state of mind.

'Constance, you shouldn't work so hard all of the time,' Amelia told her with the same concern a mother holds for a child. She had thrown caution to the wind and, mistakenly, chosen not to tiptoe around the matter or air on a side of welcomed caution.

'Why not?' Constance asked abruptly. Amelia knew that her reply would not be appreciated and almost prepared herself for the anger it would bring.

'Because everyone needs a break, Constance. It is no way to live your life, working constantly and removing yourself from company to do more work on your own; it isn't healthy.'

The words meant with kindness hit Constance like a sharp blow to the side of the face. She could not explain why they meant so much; it was, after all, the truth. She had tried so hard not to completely accept what she was doing, throwing herself into what she found relaxing and what came naturally to her to avoid addressing deeper issues, yet now it was becoming harder. Of course she did not need to work through the night, but it distracted a mind which was already buzzing with too many troubling thoughts and memories. She could have been powerful, head of the Witches' Guild if she wanted to be with the skill she held, but she needed no more than a pile of work and a pen with which to write; that was possibly the saddest thought she had dared to have in years.

'My life,' she replied eventually, 'and how I live it is my business, nobody else's, and I would prefer it if it was kept that way.' The tone which should have been filled with malice and harsh criticism was surprisingly soft and resigned, something which stunned Miss Cackle to the point of speechlessness. There were so many things that she wanted to say, things she had thought if she had been shouted down she would be able to voice to try and get her point across. Now, she wondered if she had hurt feelings her deputy must harbour deep beneath her usual stoic self and Amelia decided against pressing the matter further.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Constance continued working and Amelia drank her tea. The sun was wrestled behind forceful clouds, the last rays of light desperate cries for help which would go as always unheeded; the world became dark once more. Miss Cackle laid down her empty cup and wandered over to the place where new letters were delivered each day, picking up the stack which had appeared unseen earlier that morning.

One letter held the crest from the Witches' Guild burned into the wax which sealed the envelope. Intrigued by an impromptu message from the highest authority, the headmistress tore open the envelope and read the words it bore three times so as not to miscomprehend them.

'What does it say?' Constance asked from across the room; it never failed to amaze Amelia how she seemed to pick up on anything and everything even when her mind was focused elsewhere.

'Someone from the Guild will be visiting the school shortly, to deliver forms concerning a matter of the most urgent importance,' Amelia informed her deputy. She looked up, her face a shade paler through the anxiety which came over her whenever she imagined the school to be at risk.

'It doesn't say what the matter is,' Amelia added.

'I am sure that whatever it is, that it is no need for concern,' Constance said, brushing off the matter with an impossible level of calmness which Amelia had never learned to mirror. She looked at the next envelope in the stack, made of thick and heavy parchment and signed in a calligraphic hand she did not recognise.

'Constance, there is a letter here for you.' Sighing in frustration at the interruption, Constance rose from the chair and took the letter with from the headmistress who went to sit down by the fire she ignited with a flick of her wrist to go through the various bills which remained in her hand.

Constance felt the heavy weight of the envelope in her hand before analysing the unfamiliar style with which her name had been written. The feeling within her became suddenly stronger, her instincts telling her with all of the influence they could muster not to open the letter; she ignored it. Refusing to allow fear of what she did not see to be a threat to rule her judgement she opened the envelope, only there was no paper contained within it. Constance reached her hand into the envelope and pulled out a large item made from glinting gold and held it in her open palm.

A golden necklace sat in her hand, the thin wiry chain spilling like water through the gaps between her fingers to reach for the ground. She felt warmth which should not come from such an object pass into her and looked closely at the two letters engraved into the heart-shaped locket at the end of the chain.

AH

Constance felt her heart stop in her chest and the colour drain from her face. Those two letters on a locket meant only one thing to her, yet it was impossible. It was more than impossible, it just simply could not be true even in the realms where imagination was king. A name she had not heard in years flashed across her mind and the images which came with that name almost brought age old tears to her eyes, tears that she could not as the person she was now rightly shed.

The locket fell from her hand as though in slow motion, crashing to the floor though not being harmed and leaving those two letters still staring callously at her with their impossible meaning. Breath was caught in her chest and her hands shook, trembling with the weight of what was coming back to her after so long. Memories from years before resurfaced and forced themselves violently to the front of her mind; it was as close to scared as she would ever admit she had come.

Amelia looked across at Constance, who was staring down at the floor with one hand wavering over her chest. She was pale and her eyes, though still hiding what she was truly feeling, glimmered unnaturally with something the headmistress had never seen before; was it her way of showing fear?

'Constance, are you all right?' With that, Constance forced herself to snap back into the woman she was supposed to be, reaching out her fingers to summon the locket from the floor to her hand; it obliged unquestioningly. Once more, she felt its unusual warmth between her fingers as she pressed it into her palm.

'Perfectly, headmistress,' she lied, as though she had been doing it for her entire life; which of course, in a way, she had.

'I just need to sort this out before the morning begins; excuse me.' With that, she folded her arms and disappeared, vanishing into the air as though she had never even been there and leaving Amelia lost in confusion. She felt more worried for her deputy than she had felt in a long time, since the day she had appointed her as potions mistress many years ago. She did not know whether to address her concerns or to leave them, though she suspected that they would not be as well received as her earlier remarks. Her concern never left the back of her mind, and she would draw on this anxiety more and more in the coming days though she did not yet know it.

Xxx

Constance materialised in her room, throwing the locket down immediately onto her desk. She couldn't look at it, turning away as though the necklace's mere sight would cause her harm. She felt like crying, as though the answer to all of her problems was to sit on her bed and let the tears, which were long overdue, fall silently onto her lap; but no.

It wasn't her, it wasn't who she was and it never would be. The locket would remain hidden, banished to a corner of her chamber where she could at least try to forget about it. In time, she would destroy it, but as soon as she was sure that whatever memories it brought with it, it was not about to affect her life now; she couldn't live through that again.

The sun finally succumbed to the power of the clouds which suffocated it beneath their weight and blocked out the last weak rays of cascading light. They knew what was coming, the storm which rumbled across the hills and moved ever closer. They even knew what the storm brought, what secrets it held and what trouble it would cause, but it could never tell the truth. Sworn to silence, it complained with a violent gust of wind which rattled through the broken trees and welcomed another morning.

I know, not only cruel cliffhanger but more unanswered questions! Seems to be a theme of this fic lol :)