Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch

A/N: *As her Throne is at the repair shop Princess Sammi climbs onto her Pink Flamingo and waves to her readers*

This is for The Blue Moon Fairy, as she's kept me sane tonight whilst I've been writing this, not to mention given me some fab conversation! :D

The song (which is one of my favourites) is Frozen by Madonna

I know the punctuation is a bit iffy, but at four in the morning my brain (cell) has given in.

Enjoy :)

XXX

A/N - Edited 2013- song lyrics removed. I've worried for some time about copyright laws and have thus made the decision to remove the lyrics from any writing I have done. :)

Frozen

As the teachers of Cackle's Academy sat in the Staffroom discussing how they were going to deal with the upcoming inspection from OFWITCH tomorrow. Imogen Drill couldn't help but stare in the direction of Constance Hardbroom, and it wasn't because she was so incredibly beautiful … well it was, but this morning there was something more behind her action.

She couldn't help but think back to earlier in the morning and the usually so stoic witches reaction at the mention of Heckitty Broomhead's name: she had noticed the colour drain from her face, she had noticed the tremble in her usually sharp tone as she spoke and she had noticed the single tear fall from her deep brown eyes when she had thought she was alone.

Was this the reason?, was the woman responsible for the fact that her Constance- she could call her that in her head, and in her dreams- was so reluctant in her ability to show her emotions, to show her compassion, and to trust?

It was true that Constance saw the world in black and white; there was no room for colour, no room for sparkle, no room for anything other than a mere existence.

Imogen had always wondered what had happened to her in her past to make her so closed off from everybody, to make her recoil at the slightest hint of human contact which wasn't on her terms. She had never had an inkling up until now, but now she strongly believed that Heckitty had hurt Constance and left deep emotional scars that would remain embedded forever, she may be able to scratch the surface but she would she ever get to the true cause?

She wondered if that was why Constance threw so much of her energy and time into her teaching and duties in the Academy, it was as if she was trying to distract herself, by keeping herself busy, as by doing so, she wouldn't have time, time to stop and think, time to remember.

She wanted so badly to comfort the witch, to help her confront her demons, and to maybe help her to feel something, and not for just anyone, but for her.

She would stay with her forever and give her the love and affection, Imogen guessed she had never known, but so desperately craved.

But she couldn't, she knew deep down she couldn't, she would need to wait for Constance to act first, and she knew that would never happen.

Constance would rather bottle her emotions up, rather than show the chink in her armour and admit weakness. Rather than show she wasn't the Ice Queen she knew they all saw her as and instead was trying not to drown in the tears and suppressed memories of her own kingdom.

Why did she blame herself? She had done no wrong, and yet why was she seemingly punishing herself, watching Constance punish herself was like torture for Imogen, she couldn't do anything to stop her and yet she couldn't bear to watch, and that hurt her emotionally, almost as much as Constance was hurting.

Imogen looked into her eyes again, but this time looked past them, she looked beneath them, on the surface they were filled with sadness; empty and soulless, almost as if they had lost their way in life, but beneath, though small, she could still see the last remains of a flicker of joy and passion that had once upon a time burned so bright. It was there; could she relight that flame and make it dance in the wind? or would the wind blow and the last remaining flicker would just die? Snap to black out, almost as quickly as one could snap their fingers.

Oh how she longed to be looked at by Constance in the same light she saw her in.

She had memorised every little detail about the witch: she knew how her long black hair cascaded down her back like water running down a waterfall, she knew how her elegant long black dresses clung to her stunning figure, she knew how when the moon was out it illuminated her face, making her seem more mysterious and magical and to Imogen, all the more beautiful.

Constance's heart had clearly frozen over, but had the lock? Was it still possible to find the key; to find the key and make it fit the lock, and to turn it, and unleash all that had been locked inside for years and then to remend the heart?

The chime of the clock interrupted Imogen's thoughts, pulling her back to the present moment. Constance was staring directly at Imogen, 'crap, Imogen thought, I hope she hasn't seen me watching her' … a brief smile ghosted across Constance's face before she stood up and left the staffroom.

Maybe Imogen could unfreeze her over time?

She would at least try.