The black clouds thundered, crashing and echoing like the pots and pans of the school kitchens. The common room was nearly empty. Two stragglers sat on opposite sides of the couch by the fire, but most of the students had gone to their rooms to study or dream of passing their next test.
"Hey ya, Rose." Her favorite voice pulled her from the view. Soft, warm, melodic—listening to Tenna warmed her up like a cup of tea from The Potioneer's. "Ready for tomorrow?"
She snapped away from the window.
"Almost forgot! Assignments!" She bit her thumbnail. "We get our classes tomorrow. Oh, I hope—" She looked into his eyes then, searching the brown for a sliver of worry that mirrored her own. "Every year someone gets kicked out because they had some dirt on them. That won't be us, will it?"
"Of course not. We've done so well, and our families are pure enough." He put an arm around her shoulders. "And look at you, top marks in spellcasting. Well done." She smiled a full smile for him, warmth framed by messy pink lipstick.
Just keep talking, Rose thought to herself. I'll forget we were ever in danger at all.
"I cannot believe Jack's gonna be a history major," she said, changing the subject to happier matters. "He could hold fireballs in his hands and he's looking at old books." A flicker of light reflected against the glass and she looked out the window again.
"Nothing wrong with old books!" Tenna replied, a little defensive. "I love old books. Besides, he'd claim he's already got balls of fire."
"Ugh, shut up." Rose elbowed him. "You boys and your jokes." Tenna's demeanor softened, the curve of his shoulders relaxing.
"Thank you."
"'Course. But seriously. History or…fire!" Rose pushed her hands against the glass. "And wind, and ice, and—" She posed before him, pretending to strike him down. "It'll be great!" She bounced from the windowsill and into his arms. "Besides, I get to copy off of you if I want."
"Hey! No copying." He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, a stern crease turning down the corners of his mouth. "You're good enough to make it on your own." He slipped away from the window and gave her a half wave. "I'm heading to bed. 'Night, Rosie."
"Sleep well, Ten-Ten. Don't let the thunderbugs bite." The lightning flashed, a crack following as if to illustrate her point. Rose sensed that something watched her from behind the curtain of rain, but she couldn't hold her attention for long. Assignments were tomorrow! In just twelve hours, they'd know who would be competing to be the next Doctor.
"Amy?" Rory lay on his back by the fire, curled like an oversized cat. "Shouldn't we be getting to bed now?"
"No!" She pushed her hands into her jacket pockets. "I saved something for us from dinner. Had to wait until those little entry students were gone."
"Hey, that wasn't us too long ago."
"Whatever. They're not getting our chocolate."
"You nabbed chocolate?" Rory was upright in an instant.
"Hell yeah. Took it right from a freshie's backpack." She took a bite and snapped the bar in half. Rory paused.
"You had to steal it, didn't you?"
"Shush! Just eat your chocolate. This one's mint. Your favorite." She shook it an inch from his face, and Rory let a smile take over the reprimands. Maybe she was a little unruly—but she was still his Amy, caring and funny and ready to take on the world. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Just as she was settling in, the fire went out. She sighed and slumped into Rory's lap.
"Someone needs to relight the fire." She pulled Rory up, her mouth twisted mid-bite. "But it's not gonna be us. You know what could be us?" She leaned into Rory's face until their noses touched. "The next Doctor!"
"Well, not me, actually," Rory admitted. "I applied for arts."
"Arts! Huh. Suits you," she said, her hand on her chin. "Well I checked off enchantment, so I've still got a shot."
"Yeah," Rory said quietly. He kissed her on the nose. "Wherever you end up, I'm sure you'll be great."
"Aw! You too," she added, finishing off the last of her chocolate. "Yawn. I'm sleepy. Finally. See you tomorrow!" Rory sat back down and leaned against the foot of the armchair. He fiddled with the candy wrapper for a moment. Amy. My Amy as The Doctor. He shook his head. She'd been harboring ambitions since childhood, but Rory still couldn't see his spirited girlfriend in charge of anything remotely stuffy, and he knew The Doctor's duties to be full of paperwork. Lev, too. We'd all suck being in charge. He chuckled dryly to himself. Not like we'd have to worry about any of that. He stood up and faced his reflection in the fire. Just…pass your classes, Rory. You don't want to flunk out now.