Disclaimer: I do not own the Worst Witch or any of the characters associated with it.

Perfection

Chapter 1

Perfection was always something that Constance Hardbroom strived for in life whether it be in appearance or in her career as Deputy Head Mistress of Cackles Academy. She saw anything less than perfect as failure and that was not something that she wanted to be associated with.

Perfection had ruled and overpowered her life. Her desire to have the perfect figure when she was younger had lead to anorexia; which had nearly killed her. She believed that if she could control her weight then she could control her life and she HATED not being in control.

The pupils and staff of the school saw her as perfect: the bun her long beautiful hair was always tightly up in was perfect, her skills were perfect, her discipline and self control showed perfection too.

The biggest obstacle she had had to overcome in her life was one Hecketty Broomhead and the reign of terror which had come with her. For four years she had made Constance's life hell and she didn't know why, yes she lacking a little in discipline but apart from that what had she ever done to her?

Upon hearing that Hecketty Broomhead was the one due to inspect the school: she had panicked and all the thoughts and fears she had had all those years ago came rushing back. Even the staff and pupils had noticed a change. She still had her usual cold and icy exterior but there was a distance to it as if she was hiding something. The staff had noticed how her breathing had become quick and shallow at the mention of her name, they had noticed the shakiness in her voice as she spoke and they had noticed the tears beginning to form in her eyes before she had made her excuses and disappeared.

When reaching her bedroom and knowing she was alone and not forced to keep up the pretence she sobbed wildly for at least half an hour. Deep deep down she desperately wanted someone to know just what she had been put through at the hands of that awful woman. She didn't want to be trapped in her own lonely and frightening prison any longer. But something stopped her: it was what others would think of her once they knew; she knew that when she told them she could no longer keep up the appearance of perfection as they would know the truth.

So she kept quiet and when she emerged some time later no one was any the wiser as she was perfect.