Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Worst Witch'.

A/N: Greetings, folks. I have switched the last two chapters around so this one is in fact my epilogue of sorts and the other one is to follow.

This is the first time in ages (since May!) I have actually been able to sit down with my own fiction and do some writing so I have decided to make the most of it. I am aware that I have some reviewing to do as well so once I've uploaded this, that is next on my list before doing any more updating/new fics.

typicalRAainbow: See if you can spot the reference from an old Facebook conversation we had...;)

Also, folks, cookies to anyone who spots the two songs referenced :)

As always, thank you for reading/reviewing.

:)

Love In The First 39 Degrees

Chapter 18

One Year Later...

Closing the door behind her, Imogen Drill leant against it for a few moments trying to catch her breath. She had been out for her usual morning run and, as her mind had drifted back to last nights festivities, her thoughts had been anywhere but on her feet. As a result, she had stumbled over a large stone, lost her footing and tumbled headfirst into the river, landing with an almighty splash. Being without the aid of magical powers had meant she'd had no choice but to part-walk, part-run back to the draughty castle in search of a little warmth.

"Atchioo."

She sneezed again as she entered the staffroom. Scribbling a quick note of her whereabouts, she then headed off, already planning to fill her hot water bottle, gather up every blanket she could find in the castle and not come out of bed for anything or anyone. Well, maybe she'd make an exception on that last part for a special somebody.

Or better still, that special somebody could join her in the bed...

As she'd lay tangled amongst the reeds, swearing that the ducks were quacking in hilarity at her expense, it occurred to her that she could call on Constance who would most likely have materialised there and then to help her back to the castle — perhaps even performing a quick drying spell en route? But, in all honesty, she didn't want to bother her.

The potions mistress was attending the Witch Education Conference that afternoon with a speech that she had spent a great deal of time working on — so much so that even Imogen knew it off by heart. This action earning her a chastisement as she had unknowingly mouthed the words along with her, distracting the witch and throwing her off her stride. The passion that lit up her in those dark eyes as the owner discussed magic and all its properties was a true wonder to behold and was only one of many, many reasons of why she was head over heels in love with her girlfriend.

That thought was still playing on her mind as she entered the room.

Miss Constance Hardbroom

Deputy Headmistress.

Given they were still keeping their relationship under wraps, they were normally very careful about being seen entering each others quarters but she figured that as it was the holidays and they were the only two inhabiting the school, she could let the cloak and dagger slide just this once.

Although, she could not deny that there was something tantalisingly hot in all the sneaking around. Granted, it was nowhere near as hot as when Constance -

She broke her train of thought as another sneeze erupted from her; one so loud she could feel the walls shake.

Well, anyway, her girlfriend was rather a minx!

There were still times when she had to pinch herself to know that it was all real: When Constance would come to her after a bad day for a cuddle, when she would watch the witch sleep, marvelling at her beauty; those late night discussions and plans for a long term future. It was all so far removed from the woman she had once known — the woman she thought she knew but in reality had never known at all. Not really.

Not then.

Now, it was all so different and while they still had a tendency to argue on occasion, more to keep up appearances than anything else, the making up that followed was worth those crossed swords. Imogen loved how she could make the stoic woman's back arch with desire, feeling herself flush with pride as the mighty sorceress cried out her name again and again, with such passion in her voice and such love in her eyes.

It was strange to think that only a year ago, she had volunteered to look after Constance who had been struck down with an incredibly nasty flu and confined to her bed as a result. At the time, she had wondered what she had let herself in for but never in a million years could she of imagined where that decision would have lead her.

Now, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Her heels clicked gently against the flagstone as she walked across the room, setting down the cup of tea on the bedside table and perching herself elegantly on the edge of the bed. Picking up her book, any intentions of actually reading it were abandoned as her eyes continually drifted back to the sleeping beauty in her bed. The normally stoic witch was unable to keep the smile off her face as she watched her in slumber, wondering as she did every day, how she had gotten to be so lucky.

For the first time in a long, long, long time, Constance Hardbroom could honestly tell you that she was happy.

Happy...

It was something she had never expected to happen, at least not to her, but there it was.

She was happy.

And it was all down to Imogen Drill.

Just thinking of the blonde made her heart swell.

If she had been a betting woman, then she would have lost a fortune on this one. After all, falling for the very person she had fought with day in, day out, for longer than she cared to remember was the last thing she had expected, but, sitting next to the river, with two conflicting voices in her head and every inch of courage she could muster, she'd taken the gamble - something that could have had disastrous consequences for all involved.

She could safely say that she had won the jackpot.

When she was alone, and even when she wasn't, she would replay their first kiss in her mind. How, after they'd broken apart, the pull to kiss again had been magnetic; like two jagged halves of one soul finally coming together. She would replay their second kiss, smiling at Imogen's attempts to woo her on what had been their first official date. She would recall the first time they had gone to bed together...how freeing it had been and how loved she had felt. Believing at last that it was real when she had awoken the next morning still finding herself wrapped in Imogen's embrace as sweet nothings were whispered in her ear.

Of course, it hadn't all been hearts, flowers and unicorns.

Their first proper argument was over something so petty that she could not honestly remember what it was but she could remember all too well how she had felt in the very early hours of that morning: like it was all slipping from her grasp.

'You don't deserve to be happy'.

She remembered how words had escaped her as she had run out of the room, trying and failing desperately to hold back her tears. She could remember standing outside the school in the pouring rain, the rainwater mixing in with her tears, making it impossible to tell where one ended and where the other began. She could remember the sound of Imogen's footsteps approaching her from behind; the knot in her stomach making her feel physically sick as she knew what was coming next.

She braced herself for the goodbye...

It was, after all, all she'd ever known.

...only it never came.

Instead came a promise.

Five simple words:

I'll never leave you alone.

Their relationship was slow to bloom, and she knew that was mainly down to her. There had been a lot of holding back as she had fought against her demons, trying to deal with her issues of abandonment while entering a completely new territory. Eventually though, those seeds began to grow, blossoming into something that was so beautiful and so, so precious.

For the past while, she had wanted to keep their union between the two of them, knowing that the added pressure of everyone knowing could have tipped the scales. It had been their own little secret and not the easiest one to keep. As she had grown more comfortable in Imogen's presence, there had been rather a few close shaves whereby they were almost outed by their own desires.

Recently though, her feelings had changed, and she was now ready to tell the world — or the school for starters — exactly what had caused her noticeable ray of happiness of late. Sure, she was still 'tough H.B' in the classroom but there was almost an air of lightness to it; one that certainly hadn't been there before.

No one knew the reason but whatever - or whomever - it was, they were eternally grateful.

So was she.

"I brought you some tea, honey."

Both laughed slightly as they recognised it to be a role reversal of last year when Constance had been the poorly one but whilst then the words had slipped from Imogen's lips before she could stop herself, now the witch said them with nothing but endearment coupled with a gentle teasing. This action alone showing how comfortable she had grown in the blonde's presence.

"I also brought you a little present. Close your eyes."

Obediently, Imogen closed her eyes, her lips puckering ever so slightly in hope. She received no kiss but instead felt something being placed into her right hand. Curiosity peaking, she opened her eyes, smiling at the contents: it was the second sweetest thing to her girlfriend's kisses.

"Strawberry Creams...you must really love me," she joked as she eagerly tore the packet open using her teeth - an action that earned her a not so subtle tut from her beloved - in lieu of being able to put her hands on a pair of scissors.

It was true though.

Over the first few months of their relationship, when they had still been in the "getting to know each other stage", Constance had found it increasingly difficult, despite her best efforts, to open up to Imogen. Having spent a lifetime closing herself off from the rest of the world, the prospect of letting someone in was both frightening and overwhelming for her. The blonde was careful not to push in any way, making it clear from the off that they could go as slow as Constance felt she needed to and whilst the brunette was grateful for this, she was also incredibly frustrated, frequently berating herself for letting her own fears get the better of her. After all, she wanted to share herself with Imogen, she just didn't know how.

Thus had been born the notes.

Every so often, Imogen would find a post-it note that was strictly for her eyes only: stuck on her bathroom mirror, hidden inside one of her trainers and so on. These notes contained a little something about the enigmatic witch: a like, a dislike... the odd happy childhood anecdote. They would talk about these notes of course but those sticky bits of paper were the building blocks to the conversation, each one of those colourful sheets revealing yet another piece of a very complex puzzle.

Finding one of those notes was akin to being a child on the countdown to Christmas: she never knew what she was going to discover once that metaphorical door opened.

One day, slotted between the pages of her lesson plan had been the following:

Davina isn't the one who eats the Strawberry Creams from the tin in the staffroom, I am

~ C

She had been in a PE class when she had come across that little confession and had actually laughed aloud, a mental picture of the sorceress sneaking about the staffroom like a cat burglar forming in her mind. That night, when Constance had entered her room (which was arguably yet unofficially "their room"), she found a rather solemn Imogen waiting on her.

"We may have a problem..."

Those five words was all it had taken for the brunette's heart to plummet, all her senses numbing as though she had been thrown into icy water. Now that she had at last found love, she couldn't bear to lose it. It was so unfair!

She had tried so hard... what had she done wrong?

Not seeing the flicker of devastation on her girlfriend's face under the dimness of the lighting, Imogen's tone changed from one of seriousness to one of humour as she held up the confession and smiled, "Strawberry Creams are my favourite too," her smile soon turning to a look of confusion as the witch had burst into tears.

Eventually, Constance managed to calm herself down enough to admit that they were in fact tears of relief, explaining she had immediately thought the worst.

The blonde felt awful as she stroked the long dark hair, trying to console the older woman, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She attempted to lighten the mood as she quickly added,"I thought you just really loved Strawberry Creams."

Despite herself, Constance half-laughed, half-sobbed, "I do. Just not as much as I love you."

The confession slipped from her lips before she could stop herself and she immediately froze.

It took her a minute to realise that there was no fear in her words.

There was only love.

"Mmm.. I suppose I must do," the older woman teased as she unwrapped a chocolate, popping it in her mouth before licking her finger in such a slow and sensual way it was in no way innocent.

"Oi, missy, that's your second!"

"Who's counting?"

"I am. But you can have all the Strawberry Creams in the world so long as I get to have you," She finished off her sentence by placing a soft kiss on the dark lips.

"Imogen," Constance began, half-heartedly fighting her off as the blonde trailed sweet kisses down her neck, her usual granite-like resolve weakening by the minute, "Stop it...or you'll get me sick!"

The blonde looked up, her green eyes sparkling mischievously as she sucked on the pale collar bone, "Ah, well, darling. I suppose we'll just have to nurse each other better…"