Clara sat cross legged on the sofa of the Gryffindor common room, a thick blanket draped over her and the flickering firelight reflecting in her eyes.
Everyone else had long since gone to bed, even Rose, who had been acting unusually nice and had made Clara hot chocolate. She wasn't so bad, really, if a little giggly. But now Clara was alone, and perfectly content with the snaps and crackles of the fire and a heavy Charms book in her lap.
It really was incredibly late, and the glow from her wand illuminating the book was starting to flicker, along with her concentration. She let out a yawn, limbs heavy with tiredness and unwillingness to move. No one would mind if she drifted off here, warm and in front of the fire, right?
She managed another ten minutes before her eyes finally drifted shut, wandlight dimming and fading slowly to a warm, happy nothingness.