Pippa isn't quite sure what she expects when she mirrors Hecate. They've mirrored more frequently in the last two weeks, ever since Cackle's had nearly frozen over with the magic absorbing ice.

Pippa has been so worried about Hecate, ever since then. She's mostly back to her old self, now, but there's the odd look in her eye, of remembering. Occasionally her arms wrap around herself and she doesn't even seem to realise that she's remembering being so very cold and devoid of the warmth that is their very lifeforce.

It just makes Pippa want to wrap her up into the biggest hug possible, and warm her up in all sorts of ways. But she knows she can't, not right now. Hecate still isn't getting any of her increasingly blatant signals, and Pippa is starting to dread that she might be ignoring them on purpose.

If they are to be only friends, then so be it. Pippa is more than happy to just have Hecate back in her life, one way or another. It's been slow going, rebuilding their friendship after so long, but they're getting there, and the ache in Pippa's heart is worth the warmth.

When Hecate finally appears in the mirror, she looks so thoroughly vexed that Pippa holds in a sigh and adjusts herself in her seat to mentally prepare for another rant about Mildred Hubble or Ethel Hallow.

"That woman!" she exclaims with a noise of fury.

Pippa sits up a bit straighter. "Pardon?"

"It's a disaster here, Pippa," Hecate says seriously, enough so that Pippa's heart kicks up a notch and she starts to worry terribly, until, "we have a new art teacher."

Pippa collapses back into her comfortable armchair. "Hiccup! Don't scare me like that, what with Cackle's track record."

Hecate actually pauses, and flushes the smallest fraction. "Apologies."

"Now, what's this about an art teacher?"

"We have…" Hecate's lip curls with disgust. "A new one."

Pippa just laughs at her. "You had to know it was a possibility, after Miss Mould left. Besides, you couldn't stand Miss Mould, how could this one possibly be worse? Has she laughed out loud, loudly?"

"She has laughed out loud, loudly, multiple times," Hecate says stonily. "And that is merely the tip of the iceberg."

Pippa can't help the delighted giggle that escapes her at the response. It's the kind of sound, paired with what she's sure are what kids these days call 'heart eyes', that anyone with a fraction of sense in matters of the heart would recognise in an instant as a tell of utter adoration and infatuation.

So, naturally, it goes entirely over Hecate's head and Pippa only gets an eye roll in return.

"Oh?" Pippa asks, smiling and lifting her eyebrow. "Do tell."

Two Hours Earlier

"Does anyone know anything about the new art teacher? I haven't been able to find out anything."

The absolute horror and bewilderment in Felicity Foxglove's voice at this particular fact sets Mildred, Maud and Enid off into giggles, purely because knowing something that Felicity doesn't is always satisfying.

"I saw a strange woman in the kitchens yesterday afternoon, perhaps it was her," someone says.

"Did she have short curly hair?" Maud asks.

"Yes! Have you seen her too?"

"... possibly," Maud says, lifting her chin and looking like she's trying to do her best to sound mysterious. "I might even know her name."

"Is my name supposed to be some sort of great secret?" a voice remarks, as a form starts to appear on the cluster of desks in the middle of the classroom that all of the others face towards. "Sweet Terpsichore, I wish someone had told me."

As Mildred and the other two had suspected, the person who is now sitting in front of them, a large grin on her face, is none other than Miss Fairheart. She's forgone her fancy dress in favour of one more casual but just as becoming - orange with billowy sleeves that comes to her knees, with heeled brown boots and a soft yellow feather in her hair.

"Wow," Mildred hears Felicity say, but it's hard to tell if the budding journalist and fashion enthusiast is impressed or the opposite.

"Seems like the sort of thing I ought to know," Miss Fairheart continues, looking around them all, eyes sparkling, "I have a terrible habit of saying it to any new person I meet, after all."

Mildred shares a giggle with Enid, and a flash of triumph goes through Miss Fairheart's eyes.

"And yet, we remain in suspense," Ethel says, sounding unimpressed.

"Miss Frances Fairheart," comes the reply, as the woman in question gets off the desk and hits the floor for the first time. She puts her hand to her forehead and bows. "Well met, all of you." She looks at Ethel. "And you are?"

"Ethel Hallow," the blonde girl says primly.

"Delighted, I'm sure. Now, I want all of your names. Bonus marks on your preliminary test if you can come up with an amusing way to ensure I remember your name more easily," Miss Fairheart tells them all, conjuring a quill from mid air.

The horrified look on Ethel's face is priceless. "But that's not how bonus marks-"

"Oh, shut up, Ethel," Enid says with a roll of her eyes, before looking back to Miss Fairheart, a similar expression of distaste on her face all the same. "We're getting a test?"

"Well, how am I supposed to know what to teach and nurture if I don't know what I'm working with?" Fairheart asks absently, eyes scouring over them and her quill scribbling over her left forearm with what must be magic since surely otherwise it would hurt. "Don't worry, this test isn't the scary kind with lots of percentages and that dreary sort of thing. Mine will be fun, hopefully."

"A fun test," Felicity says, sounding dubious.

"Well, it involves paint, which in my experience always increases the fun of any activity by at least half again." Miss Fairheart chuckles and waggles her quill in the girl's direction. "You know, that Miss Hardbroom of yours has been giving me all sorts of pointers-" She grins wider when she sees the face that several girls pull. "And I'll be honest, I think we have very different approaches to this sort of - well, no, to more or less everything, really. But this was the one suggestion I couldn't fault. Of course, I doubt she'd approval of my marking scheme, given its… lack of existence."

"Is anyone else confused?" Mildred asks her friends. "I'm getting confused."

"One thing before we start. Dreadfully important question for you all," Miss Fairheart says, sitting on the edge of the desk, leaning forward.

They wait, and a tense silence falls across the classroom.

"Is your Miss Hardbroom always like… that," she finishes, a bit lamely, making a face.

"Yes," Maud and Enid chorus in resigned unison, and everyone in the room nods.

Miss Fairheart's eyebrow quirks, and for a moment Mildred swears that she laughs, or is about to, but she catches herself and coughs instead. "Interesting," she says mildly, standing back up, before muttering to herself something that sounds like, "well, I do like a challenge."

Mildred frowns, and Enid and Maud are wearing similar expressions. They glance at each other, share their dumbfoundment, and shrug before moving on.

Miss Fairheart starts getting everyone to say their names, and an amusing recall device if they can think of one. Most come up a bit short, but a few come up with something.

("Foxglove," says Felicity, "and you can remember that I'm the one interested in fashion, who has the word Glove in her name."

"Or the flower concerned with clusters of pretty but mostly identical blossoms?" Miss Fairheart asks, eyebrow up. "Who is interested in the aesthetics of the masses? Noted. Partial credit for the attempt, Miss Foxglove, thank you."

Felicity nods, looking understandably unsure of the reception of her idea.)

Mildred, however, has no problem at all when it comes to be her turn.

"Mildred Hubble," she says, grinning, "rhymes with Trouble. Which I don't mean to be, but am. You can even ask Miss Hardbroom."

Miss Fairheart laughs with what can only be delight. "Oh, I just might." Her expression becomes more serious for a moment, as she steps closer, holding Mildred's gaze. There's a sternness to her that has come out of nowhere, and Mildred is all at once a bit nervous. "And you're right, I can spot trouble a mile away and you're it. So don't. Try. Anything."

Mildred swallows, too stunned at the complete turn around to know what to say, until -

Miss Fairheart laughs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mildred Hubble, you should see your face," she says, covering her mouth to cover her guilty smile. "I shouldn't have worried you like that. I was only going to say that the reason I can spot trouble a mile away is because up until now I've usually been the one making it."

"Are teachers allowed to make trouble?" Ethel asks, narrowing her eyes. "That sounds extremely questionable to me."

"Well, Miss Gullet and Agatha and Miss Mould all made trouble," Maud says.

"I only barely know who two of those three are, but I'm not that sort of trouble, I promise," Miss Fairheart says, shaking her head, chuckling again. "And to answer your question, Ethel 'I don't need to come up with an amusing play on words because my family is so well reputed it's insulting that I even be asked' Hallow, you're absolutely right that teachers should not make trouble. Which is why my troublemaking days are behind me, starting today. But the skills I acquired will be mine forever, and as such… I'll be keeping my eye on all of you."

She regards them with a bizarre, intense, stiff gaze for a moment, before it cracks a moment later.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to mimic Miss Hardbroom but I think there are some expressions only her face is capable of making," she says, and the class laughs a bit at that. She claps her hands together. "Now. Test."

There's a couple of groans.

"No, no, this really will be fun, I promise," Miss Fairheart says, conjuring a sizable piece of art paper to sit before each of them, along with paint pots. "The test is simple. I want you to paint me something that makes you feel something. I don't mind what it is, I don't mind how you do it, except for one rule - you aren't allowed to use a brush."

"How are we supposed to paint without a-"

Mildred cuts off Ethel's protest with a half-disbelieving, half-delighted, "is this test… fingerpainting?"

Miss Fairheart grins and taps her nose conspiratorially. "Is that what I said? Hmm. I suppose it must be."

They get half an hour for their test, and Mildred spends the first five minutes giggling with Enid and Maud about the disgusted twist of Ethel's nose as she dips her fingers into the paint in front of her and goes about her test with a scowl.

After that, Mildred focuses, and starts working on an illustration that shows Tabby on her broom, riding it like a pro on his own like in this one bizarre dream she'd had but thoroughly enjoyed. It's hard to make it match her dream, to make it look as good, but she comes pretty close, and is fairly happy with it by the time she's finished.

"Have you done the stars in the shape of pawprints?" Miss Fairheart asks when she comes around to evaluate, and Mildred smiles bashfully and nods. "That's brilliant. I love it. Now, Enid Only A Little Bit Deadly Nightshade? Let's see what you-"

"What is going on in here?"

Mildred flinches at the sound of the voice of Miss Hardbroom, which enters the room a moment before the deputy does.

"Miss Hardbroom," Fairheart remarks with a smile, turning around to face her. "Lovely of you to drop in. The girls are just finishing up their test."

Hardbroom examines the room with narrowed eyes. "This… is not a test. This is fingerpainting."

"Wrong," Fairheart says, making Hardbroom blink with a sort of bewilderment, and Mildred has to wonder how often she's been just so blatantly told she is wrong to her face before, if ever. "It's both, actually."

"This is not what I intended when I-"

"Well, naturally, I'd be concerned if an art teacher and potions teacher attempted to set the same test, that would be rather ridiculous," Fairheart retorts, grinning. "It's a good, if imperfect, measure of raw ability. I promise, I have a marking criteria and everything, it's all very above board."

Hardbroom steps closer, entering Fairheart's personal bubble. "This is a serious academic institution-"

Fairheart, as opposed to being intimidated by the older woman's presence, holds her ground and looks up at Hecate with an even gaze. "Well, I promise the fingerpainting was very serious. There was minimal laughter and joy in this room, of course, as dictated by test conditions."

"Are you mocking me?" Hardbroom breathes.

"I have absolutely no idea," Fairheart replies, just as quietly. "But I don't appreciate your split second judgement of me or my work. Let the Headmistress worry about my methods and curriculum, Miss Hardbroom, I'm sure your heart will thank you for it."

Hardbroom stares at her for a moment, before glaring and transferring away.

Fairheart swallows in her wake, before straightening her posture and tugging on her dress. "Alright. Well. If everyone could make sure that their work is signed, you're free to go and use the rest of this period as a study period. Thank you."

Mildred, Enid and Maud stay behind, waiting until everyone else has gone.

"So… you're staying here in the future and are going to be our art teacher?" Maud asks her.

Fairheart smiles at them, running a hand through her hair and taking a deep breath, like she'd forgotten to do so for the last half an hour. "I - yes. Something like that."

"Wicked," Enid says.

"Miss Hardbroom isn't as bad as she seems," Mildred tells her. "I know she's harsh sometimes, but she does… care. A lot. I always think she's just not very good at showing it. And she gets too intense about things like tests."

"Yeah, please don't let her scare you off."

"She doesn't scare me, don't worry," Fairheart assures them. "Takes a lot more than that. She has no idea what she's getting into with me."

Mildred thinks that she may be right, but also that Miss Fairheart doesn't quite know what she's getting into with Miss Hardbroom, either. It's hard to know how to try and explain that, though, and she opts for not trying at all, since with her luck it would probably backfire.

"Well, I'm really excited to take art with you," is all that Mildred says in the end, and Miss Fairheart smiles widely at her.

"As long as somebody is, that's good enough for me."

Present

"Fingerpainting? All this fuss over fingerpainting, Hiccup?"

In retrospect, Hecate should probably have foreseen what Pippa's opinion on this would be. She needs to make her understand, see that of course it isn't just this singular, if offensive thing.

"It wasn't just the fingerpainting, it is her attitude-"

"You think everyone has an attitude, and let's not forget your attitude-"

"My attitude?"

"Well, it sounds to me as though you went into her classroom during her first lesson and tried to completely undermine what she was doing in front of the students," Pippa points out. "How would you feel if you were starting a new position and the deputy did that to you?"

Hecate opens her mouth to argue that it's different, that she would never have anything worth mocking in her lesson. A lifetime's worth of unkind words from her adolescence from their fellow students, from even other teachers she's encountered over the years who seem to lift their noses at her, floods in.

She swallows. "I-"

"Exactly," Pippa says, sighing. "I just think you should try to give her a chance, Hiccup."

"I will… try," Hecate concedes, with great effort, and only because the thought of Pippa looking at her with any kind of disappoint is an awful one. "There is… something else, about her. We haven't told the rest of the staff yet."

"Oh?" Pippa looks at her with interest. "And what might that be?"

"I don't know if I should say."

"Is it potentially dangerous information?"

"Not… in your hands, no," Hecate says. "She came to us through the Mists of Time and is unable to return. She's from… 1926."

"1926?" Pippa gapes. "Truly, Hecate?"

"It would seem so, Ada has shown me the records she managed to locate, that verify her claim. And she was fairly convincing upon her arrival. She was very… lost."

"Oh, the poor thing, I don't doubt it," Pippa says, sympathy all over her face.

"She seems to have recovered from the considerable shock with an astounding speed, however," Hecate tells her. "So I see no need to treat her any differently that I might any other member of staff."

"She might just be putting on a brave face."

"Perhaps. But I doubt it."

"Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our newest member of staff: Miss Frances Fairheart. She is going to be our new art teacher, since I do believe the subject has been a substantial benefit to Cackle's and the girls should not have to suffer academically because of the fault of one of their teachers."

Everyone in the staffroom, understandably taken aback by the completely out of the blue announcement, exchanges looks.

"Well met," Fairheart says with a little bow, and gets the same greeting from the others.

"Dimity Drill, physical education. Welcome aboard," Dimity tells her afterwards. "HB didn't scare you too much, did she? She likes grilling new recruits."

"Oh, let her try," Fairheart laughs.

Dimity's eyebrow lifts as she laughs a bit, surprised. "Okay, I like you already, Frances Fairheart."

"Please, call me Frankie."

Pippa is smiling indulgently as Hecate provides this extra piece of information. "Frankie? How darling. I haven't met her, or any idea what she looks like, but I bet it suits her."

Hecate sniffs. "It's hardly the name for a woman of any dignity, so I suppose… yes, it does."

Pippa nearly chokes on an odd laugh, and gives her a look of disapproval. "Hiccup, that was unkind."

"It was… not a comment to be taken seriously, I assure you," Hecate murmurs.

Pippa gives her a strange look, a curl to her lips. "Hiccup, was that your attempt at a joke?" Hecate purses her lips and says nothing, trying to keep her cheeks from flushing with embarrassment. "Oh, darling, we're going to need to work on that. It was fairly dismal-"

"Noted," Hecate says, wincing. It's so absurd, and she wouldn't bother trying at all except that it's Pippa and once upon a time she used to be able to make Pippa laugh -

"But I adore you for trying, even if it was at this poor woman's expense," Pippa adds, making Hecate's heart flutter for a moment even if she doesn't mean what a part of Hecate desperately wishes she did. "But you can do better. We'll work on it."

"If you insist."

"It's an excellent personal project, and laughter is good for the soul," Pippa says, beaming at her. "Besides, I've missed your laugh, Hiccup."

"As have I, I believe it ran away from me a couple of decades back."

Pippa laughs, that beautiful, ringing sound that makes Hecate's chest ache a bit because of how much she's missed it. It reminds her so much of their adolescence, and of everything they had missed out on for so long because of Hecate's utter idiocy and insecurity.

"Maybe you're better at this than I thought."

"I doubt it," Hecate says flatly.

They talk as long as they can before marking becomes a priority for both of them for the rest of the evening, and Hecate watches the sight of her best friend disappear from her mirror and hates how much she hates it.

In some ways it's torture having Pippa back in her life, the same kind of torture it had been when they were younger and Hecate had been so infatuated only to watch Pippa surrounded by and flirting with all sorts of pretty people she could never measure up to.

It's worth it, though, because in other ways, it feels as though she's able to breathe again for the first time in decades.

Shaking her head at herself, she goes back to her marking, and tries not to dread what tomorrow and the new art teacher might bring.

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought!