Disclaimer: I don't own the Worst Witch, or the wonderful Kate Duchene, without whom I would have no inspiration for these fics at all.

A/N: An idea that just occurred to me at stupid o'clock in the morning, when all the best ideas usually hit. Little scene I would have liked to see - I hope I got the characters right, and I'd really appreciate your views!

Summary: The missing end of Mildred and HB's talk from 'The Millennium Bug' Series 2, Episode 13.

It Matters

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Why are you leaving, Miss Hardbroom?"

"Because I only know one tune, Mildred Hubble, and I can't dance to any other."

Constance lowered her gaze back to the table, and more importantly, the letter in front of her. Mildred watched from around the corner of the table, wondering why she suddenly felt so achingly sad. She thought it had something to do with the painful little smile her form mistress had tried to send her way after finishing speaking. She'd never seen the other woman look so... Mildred couldn't pin down a word to describe exactly how Miss Hardbroom seemed at that moment. As if the fight had gone out of her. Just then, Mildred experienced a lightning fast about-turn of her thinking.

Yes, initially, she had thought it might be a good thing, that she wouldn't spend her potions lessons half-shaking with nerves, and worried about being picked on for tiny things. But now... now she knew any Cackles without Miss Hardbroom would be completely and utterly wrong. She'd always been there, and she always needed to be. She might be terrifying, but she was also a surety – all of the girls knew this woman would do whatever it took to protect them, and had the ability to do so as well. Her command of magic was unmatched by any other witch Mildred had ever heard or read about and from what Mildred now pieced together from their small talk, that dedication had come at a heavy price.

The whole conversation down here had been weird for the pupil – she'd never have expected that her teacher would want to hear what they thought of her, had always been convinced the woman didn't care – that would have been the only way Mildred could endure being like their potion's teacher. But the way she'd asked if Mildred hated her – it revealed a caring Mildred couldn't have possibly guessed would be there. Almost as if the thought hurt her form mistress. Mildred knew she had to be honest – it would likely be the only chance she'd get to ever say these words, without severe repercussions anyway. But she should have made her answer clearer – she might hate some of what her teacher did, but she didn't hate her.

Here, at the end, Mildred realised what she should have known all along – HB was a good thing for them. And they needed her. And for the first time, Mildred began to think that perhaps her fearsome form tutor needed them as well. The girl knew she had very little knowledge of her teachers' personal lives – that was the way Miss Hardbroom would have wanted it – but they knew Miss Drill had Serge, and Miss Bat had her travels and chanting, Miss Cackle had family, some anyway, what did HB have? Her potions, and them. Frowning, Mildred wondered if there was anything she could do, and sighed softly when she concluded there was very little.

Or maybe there was... Struck by an idea, she knew she only had a little time to get the word out before bedtime, so rose to make the arrangements, only to pause before she'd taken a step. HB had bent her head again, resting her chin against her pointed and steepled first fingers, and if Mildred wasn't very much mistaken, looking just a little lost. For all the world oblivious to Millie again. Thinking deeply, as only her form mistress could.

"Miss Hardbroom?" Mildred ventured hesitantly, knowing in the back of her mind she would most definitely be asking herself where she got the idea or the nerve to voice her next words. "I know you don't like physical contact, and I know you probably don't want to talk to me anymore – but I think you should know that – that it wouldn't be right without you being here. And I feel I should say that – that we don't hate you." Mildred caught the way HB's mouth twisted slightly, and she knew it meant her teacher had doubts about her words.

"Honestly, Miss Hardbroom, we don't. We know if we need you, you'll be there. You've saved my life quite a few times since I've been here, I can't help but think I'm not the only one. And we still need you, Miss Hardbroom, we really do. Miss Cackle is lovely, but she – she isn't you. And if there's chance that you might consider staying... I'll take it. I won't ask you to stay, because that's not up to me, but I will say that I would like you to stay." Mildred tumbled and rushed through her ill planned speech with all the elegance of a nervous fish, but she said everything she wanted to say. Still her teacher remained looking at the table, but she laid her arms down on the wooden surface, her breathing deepening – Mildred hoped in an effort to stave off some emotion roused by her words.

Taking a very deep breath herself, Mildred shuffled slightly closer to the less intimidating form of her teacher and reached out a hand. She saw HB's gaze focus on her somewhat shining pale skin as it hovered over the black sleeve that was so very typical of their Potion's mistress, before moving along and coming to hesitate over the bare skin of Miss Hardbroom's hand. Just for a second, she could feel a slight prickle that she assumed was HB's magic aura, then lowered her palm to enclose around her form mistress' hand, squeezing slightly at the cold skin beneath her touch.

Mildred meant to pass on comfort, to assure her teacher that she meant everything she'd just said, and she finally drew up the courage to raise her eyes from their hands to Miss Hardbroom's face, which she could only see in profile still. Millie could almost feel the weight of that gaze on the back of her hand, and she wondered whether she'd pushed past an already stretched boundary. But a moment later, HB lifted her gaze and turned towards her pupil, a warmth in her chocolate eyes Millie had never imagined she would ever see.

"Thank you, Mildred Hubble." Came the words that still resembled strongly the clipped and precise tones of her potions' teacher, and yet carried some vague emotion that Millie hoped she was right in interpreting as actual gratitude. Miss Hardbroom really did mean to thank her. For a moment, Mildred smiled down at her form mistress, then suddenly leant forward and grasped her arms around the other woman, only for a second but enough to let out some of her own emotions. HB remained as stiff as a board in her arms, and did not move to return the gesture, but then Millie hadn't expected she would. Resigning didn't mean she'd changed her personality.

Having definitely over-stepped a barrier there, Mildred pulled back and made a swift stride to the door, her plaits flying out behind her, bootlaces dragging on the floor, a slightly dizzy feeling from the contact – she had a feeling she was the first person to have hugged that woman since her childhood – if she had even been hugged then. The gesture seemed to foreign to her. And yet, despite fearing for her sanity and the reaction she may receive from her teacher, Millie still couldn't stop herself from pausing as she yanked open the door and put a step outside.

Looking around, she could just see the outline of her form mistress through the mesh of the curtain hanging down between the two rooms and wished, not for the first time, that she understood the woman sat just past that gauzy barrier. Mildred had known from when they'd first found out that something was not right about the thought of HB leaving, but now she was sure everything that could be done to stop her should be – Miss Hardbroom belonged here, in this castle, with her students. Miss Cackle would be lost without her. Her students would realise too late they missed her. Something had to be done.

"I know I said I wouldn't say it, but... We'd miss you, Miss Hardbroom. Please don't go." And with that, the girl left silently, rapidly putting together in her mind the fastest way of getting in contact with everyone as soon as possible, wondering how she could possibly make this argument when not half an hour ago, she would have been saying the new school sounded like such a brilliant idea. There had to be a way, and she felt sure, once she got through to some of the others, everyone else would come around.

As her footsteps resounded on the stone stairs up to the main castle, the young well-meaning girl was unaware that Miss Hardbroom had looked around sharply upon hearing the soft and barely heard request made seconds before. And another, sad smile had begun to climb her potions teacher's face.