A/N: Weekly update coming your way! This one is a whopper of a chapter, checking in around 7000 words. Wow! There's a steamy makeout scene later, but nothing too mature yet. I'll do my best to have warnings before anything that might be explicit - either sexually, emotionally, or physically. That will apply to sex as well as any disturbing images or violence. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

Chapter Five:

Hello, Goodbye

Could tell you what you wanna hear
Cause the truth is always in the way
I never wanna live in fear
I don't wanna hold back all the things I need to say

I got you figured out, you need to have control
You think that I don't know you, I know you, I know
Trying to tell you now, I've been doing what you want
But I won't be your yes girl, no, not anymore
Just let me go, just let me go
Won't be your yes girl, no, not anymore
Yes Girl - Bea Miller

Clarke stared at the clock on the wall, watching the minute hand's painfully slow rotation. 10:35. She had been in her mother's quarters for an hour now, one hour longer than she had intended to be there. After two weeks of blissful avoidance, Abby had insisted that the two have breakfast together. They couldn't do that in the Great Hall so the Head of Ravenclaw House had managed to trap Clarke inside her office suite. The young girl might as well have been caught in a snare for how comfortable she felt. Clarke would have been more than happy to keep ignoring Abby for the rest of the year. Way to ruin a good thing, she thought bitterly.

The older woman cleared her throat audibly, calling Clarke's attention back to the table. She glanced down at the plate of food in front of her, which lay barely touched. Picking up her fork, Clarke pushed a few potatoes around experimentally.

"Are any of those going to go in your mouth?" Abby asked stiffly. They hadn't spoken since the compulsory greeting forty minutes ago. In fact, Abby had found numerous little tasks that 'needed her attention' while Clarke sat in silence, waiting for their breakfast to arrive. Typical. Clarke raised her eyebrows, meeting Abby's sharp hazel eyes with her own cold, blue irises. She put a single potato in her mouth and chewed it slowly.

"Do you plan on speaking any time soon?" The older woman put her fork down and sighed at Clarke's defiance, leaning back in her chair to give her daughter an expectant look.

"What would you like me to say?" Clarke asked, feigning ignorance.

"Cut it out, Clarke," Abby snapped. "I invited you here so we could get to know each other. That's never going to happen if you keep giving me lip or freezing me out."

Clarke snorted and glanced back at the clock on the wall. This is never going to end. She laughed derisively at the situation and watched as Abby's face turned a rather magnificent shade of red.

"What?" the older asked sharply, her teeth grinding in an effort to remain calm. Clarke's laughter died abruptly.

"I'm sorry," Clarke forced herself to shrug indifferently; an action that was in direct conflict with the anger living inside of her. "You're just mistaking me for someone who cares. That ship sailed twelve years ago when I realized you abandoned us." She pinned Abby with her chilling gaze. You're insane if you think we have any semblance of a relationship.

"Clarke, I loved your father very much. I don't know what Jake told you, but-" The delicate lid that held back years of repressed anger blew right off. Clarke stood, sending her chair flying back.

"Don't say his name! Don't talk about him like you cared. He's dead and you weren't there!" She glared at Abby, her voice shaking slightly, "You weren't there for my birthdays, or when I broke both legs climbing a tree, or my first year at school, or my first kiss… You weren't there."

Abby's eyes widened, stunned. "I can imagine that my absence hurt you a lot-"

"Look," Clarke spoke dismissively. "You're not my mother. Let's not pretend otherwise, okay?" She wanted to hurt Abby, to make her feel even a fragment of the pain Clarke had buried deep inside of herself.

Abby stood up and put her hands on the table, facing off with Clarke. "I am your mother and no amount of naive, teenage resentment on your part can change that!" Teenage resentment? Seriously? Condescending bitch.

"You don't get it. I am not your daughter. I haven't been for twelve years. I'm Jake Griffin's daughter. We are not family… so don't treat me like it. No favoritism. I'm just another student. I don't know you and you don't know me. Got it?" Clarke didn't wait for a response. Instead she slung her school bag over her shoulder and marched out of the room, prying herself free of whatever trap Abby had set. The woman's ignorance was unbelievable. Did she really think that after a decade of estrangement she could just waltz back into Clarke's life like nothing had happened? Sure, I'm still three years old, Clarke thought sarcastically. Throw all your parenting bullshit at me as if I won't say anything.

Clarke didn't know where she was going and she didn't really care at the moment, letting her feet take her down the maze of stairs and away from the seventh floor. Hot frustration boiled up inside of her until it felt like steam might pour from her ears just to release the pressure. How dare she? Clarke grimaced. Her mind would not leave behind Abby's presumptuous attitude despite the physical distance she put between them. Clarke had even gone to her stupid breakfast, which was more than that woman deserved.

THWACK! Clarke groaned as she ran into something very solid. It let out a soft grunt on impact and Clarke felt herself pitching backwards. Two arms wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her. Instinctively, she whipped out her wand, pointing it straight at the person holding her.

"Don't touch me," Clarke hissed, twisting the point of her wand into the distinctively male chest. The arms around her released immediately. Stepping back, she came face to face with none other than Bellamy Blake. Seriously? Now? It seemed that avoiding people was not a viable solution anymore.

"Hey, hey!" Bellamy held up his hands, her wand still digging into him. "I was just trying to help! No need to get all feisty."

Clarke lowered her wand, "I'm not feisty. You just… surprised me, is all."

"I surprised you? How so?" Bellamy leaned back, rubbing his chest where she had stuck him and grinning foolishly. Sirens started going off in her head as Clarke flashed back to their lakeside encounter and her mortifying word vomit. Get out while you can, Griffin.

"I'm not in the mood for this." Clarke heeded her rational mind and moved to brush past him.

"Wait!" Bellamy stepped in front of her, blocking her progress. "This is the first time I've gotten you to talk to me all week… Don't run away so fast."

"Why are you always trying to talk to me? It's annoying," Clarke snapped, crossing her arms. The animal of rage inside her was still roaming around freely and Bellamy was about to receive the brunt of her attack. Run away while you can, her mind tried to warn him.

His smile fell. "Wow. Okay. I'm sorry, I guess?" She could tell she had hurt him.

"Look," she said matter-of-factly, "last time we talked, I was pretty drunk. I'm not usually that nice. Don't waste your time."

"That was nice?" Bellamy laughed roughly, "You need to work on your people skills."

"Then why are you still here?" Clarke demanded.

"I don't know!" he snapped. "I'm leaving."

"Good."

"Great."

"Clarke?" The two looked up to see who would intrude on their argument. Finn Collins reached the third floor landing where Clarke and Bellamy stood and walked steadily towards them. Are you fucking kidding me? Screw you, universe. As if things couldn't get any worse. Clarke took a deep breath and then turned towards Finn.

"I'm in a colossally bad mood. If you try to talk to me right now, I swear to god I will hex off your balls, Finn. I'm not kidding," Clarke stated, coldly. She saw Bellamy's eyes widen out of the corner of her own. I told you.

"Come on," Finn tilted his head, giving her a look that a month ago would have made her melt. Today it just shattered any fragile restraint she had left. "Let's take a walk together. Like we used to. It'll make you feel better."

Clarke gripped her wand tighter, feeling her knuckles lose blood flow. She was so mad, so fucking mad. If she opened her mouth right now, she knew the only thing that would come out would be a highly illegal spell. Her hands began to shake.

Bellamy stepped forward, putting a hand on Finn's chest, "The lady said go away, Collins."

"Don't touch me, Blake," Finn growled, his eyes narrowing. Clarke looked up at the ceiling, trying quell her rage and recapture control of her emotions. It worked, more or less.

"Bellamy, back off," she said, levelly. "You're making this worse." The Gryffindor turned around, surprised at hearing his name. There was a split second of clarity before any line had been crossed. Then everything went to shit.

A fourth figure materialized from nowhere; Clarke had no idea who he was, but the newcomer obviously was acquainted with Finn because he greeted him with a solid right hook.

"That's for Raven, you piece of shit!" the Ravenclaw boy shouted at Finn who was now sprawled on the floor. Hearing Raven's name had the same effect as three thousand tons of Niagara Falls extinguishing the fire of Clarke's rage; she felt instantly cold.

"Jasper! What the fuck, man?" Bellamy stepped between the two, trying to catch Jasper's crazed eyes. Clarke watched in stunned horror as Finn launched himself at Jasper from the floor, propelling the two of them in the opposite direction. Bellamy tried to pry Finn off of Jasper, but only managed to get an elbow to the face as a reward. Then it was simply a tussle of flailing limbs marked by sickening, bone-crunching punches. Clarke opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What the fuck is happening? It was like she had entered the Twilight Zone.

Suddenly all three boys flew apart, each standing rod-iron straight five feet apart from each other. Clarke's heart sank as Abby marched down the stairs, wand pointed straight ahead, keeping each boy in place.

"What is the meaning of this?" the older woman barked sharply at the four students in front of her. When all of the boys remained silent, Abby looked at Clarke expectantly; her face hardened quickly at her daughter's noncommittal shrug. For Clarke's part, she really didn't know how to answer that question. For once, she wasn't trying to be facetious.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Really, Mr. Jordan, I am extraordinarily displeased with you. All four of you will serve detention next Saturday at one o'clock sharp."

"Are you kidding me? I wasn't even fighting!" Clarke asked in disbelief.

Abby smiled tightly at her, "You said 'no favoritism.' That's what this looks like."

Clarke felt like she had been slapped in the face. Fine.

"Jordan, come with me," the professor commanded. "Collins and Blake, report to the Hospital Wing before your next class. Honestly…" Abby strode away, pulling Jasper in her wake.

"Don't," Clarke put her hand up as Finn and Bellamy stepped towards her. "Thanks a lot," she hissed and shot daggers at both of them before storming away.

"Happy to help," Bellamy retorted, rolling his eyes at her retreating figure. How was this his fault? The girl was a hot mess. At first he had thought her intriguing, but now… now he didn't know what to make of her. She was as hostile as a Hungarian Horntail, all spikes and claws; she definitely wasn't lacking fire either. God, she was infuriating. He was just trying to be nice to her and she acted like he was the fucking plague. That's not all you were trying to be… A small voice in the back of Bellamy's head reminded him. Shut. Up. He mentally berated himself.

Sure he found her attractive; she had an unimposed elegance about her that was endearing… at least that's what he had thought. Now, Bellamy realized that it was less elegance and more of an inane superiority complex that she kept on a tight leash until she opened her mouth. Jesus. To think that he had been fawning over her for the past two weeks!

Bellamy realized he was still standing, staring in the direction she had disappeared. Mercifully, he was alone; Collins had slinked off while Bellamy was distracted. He shook his head clear of Clarke, determined to rid himself of this absurd fancy. Turning around swiftly, he walked in the exact opposite direction she had taken. Clarke was like sandpaper on an open wound… But despite his best efforts, Bellamy's mind kept returning to the lake, to her adorable, flustered demeanor, and to her reddened, sun-burnt face that had looked so open and vulnerable compared to what he had just witnessed. It was like there were two different Clarke Griffins attending this school and, honestly, he didn't have a grip on either one of them.

Wake up, man, he told himself sternly, You've known her for all of two seconds. There aren't two different people, there's just her: Clarke. She said she was drunk so that's that. She's just a spoiled, rich kid like most of the other Slytherins. Nothing special… So stop thinking about her… Now!

Bellamy froze in the middle of the corridor, testing if he was free. He smiled smugly, there were plenty of other things for him to think about like: Quidditch practice, Octavia's love life, his and Lexa's next prank, the Potions essay due next week, Clarke- Damn it, he groaned, turning to pound his head against the wall in desperation.

"Bell?" Octavia's voice reached him and he straightened immediately, "What are you doing?"

"You know… just… stuff," Bellamy supplied lamely, shrugging his shoulders. He hissed, clutching his left shoulder as sharp pain ripped through his joint. Octavia was at his side in seconds. He howled as Octavia grasped his arm firmly in her hands, examining it. She looked up at him and then stepped back, upon seeing face.

"Jesus, Bellamy," Octavia reprimanded. "What did you do? Get into a fist fight?"

He shrugged again, avoiding her eyes. "Is it that noticeable?"

"Yeah," she laughed without humor. "You have a seriously nasty black eye forming."

"I got elbowed in the face. I'm fine." He brushed her hands away.

"And you thought hitting your head against the wall would make it better? It'll definitely make you dumber."

He made a face, "I forgot, OK?"

"You… forgot?" She repeated, nonplussed and then poked him in the shoulder, eliciting a sharp yelp, "What were you thinking about that made you forget this?"

Bellamy felt his face go red and he back-peddled, "Nothing. Thanks for the 'support,' O."

"You better be heading to the Hospital Wing," she shouted after him. "Despite what you may think that black eye will not make you look 'sexier.'" Bellamy flipped her off and kept walking.

Octavia rolled her eyes and watched him leave. He acted so strong and cavalier most of the time, but he really was such a sensitive person. Not many people knew that, except Octavia. She thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't inherited the same amount of sensitivity as Bellamy. What flaws she had inherited though, she was definitely not as good at hiding. Again, 'subtlety' was not Octavia's middle name.

Speaking of which… Octavia looked down, smoothing out any wrinkles in her uniform. She had taken extra care with her appearance today because she was about to start phase one of her master plan. Project Seduction Raven had jokingly called it when Octavia divulged her grand scheme. Waiting until her brother was totally out of sight, the younger Blake took off towards the library, a small spring in her step.

The lower level of the library was mostly empty; Octavia found the quiet stillness of the place more eerie than calming. A room full of books was not exactly her first choice. She favored practical, hands-on learning rather than excessive reading. She wrinkled her nose distastefully as a ray of sunlight through a high window illuminated a column of dust. As quickly as it was exposed, the light vanished as Madam Tsing hurriedly closed the curtains. Not the precious books! Whatever would we do? Octavia thought in mock distress, chuckling slightly at the look of alarm that seemed to be permanently frozen onto the librarian's stern face. Looking after sedentary objects like books should be a totally stress-free job. Madam Tsing doesn't seem to think so. An image of the librarian running after a particularly rambunctious title pasted itself into Octavia's mind and she had to stifle the laugh which threatened to erupt.

Away from the main entrance, the library turned into a dense maze of stacks, broken irregularly by desks shoved into small nooks where students could study undisturbed. Octavia wove between the shelves of books which towered high overhead, making sure to check each alcove for Lincoln. She finally found her gorgeous tutor at a table tucked into the far corner. His head was bent over an old, fraying book which lay open on the table in front of him. Octavia smiled, leaning against the nearest stack and taking a moment to appreciate the contradiction of his face, which was simultaneously strong and gentle. She cleared her throat loudly, pulling his attention away from the literature.

"Good, you're here," was all Lincoln said, before turning back to his studies. Octavia harrumphed, mildly annoyed.

"This place is great," she said sarcastically as she took a seat next to him. "It's super easy to find." Lincoln looked at her, saying nothing. Why was he so damn serious?

"So we should get started," he said and launched in without waiting for a response. "I'm assuming you know the three main categories of potions?" So no foreplay then… interesting.

She shrugged nonchalantly, "Of course. Some potions are bad for you, some are good for you, and some are neutral or something like that."

"That's… great, but I was asking for a more academic answer."

"Sure, chief." Octavia smiled sweetly, "Potions kill you, heal you, or change you."

"That's correct, but," Lincoln sighed, shaking his head in frustration, "if you want full marks on your O.W.L. you will have to give the latin names: occidere, sanare, mutare. Now the most common sanare potions are the antidotes to common and uncommon poisons. Another common sanare is the blood-replenishing potion that Professor Griffin had you make earlier this week."

Octavia's smiled sheepishly, "Oops."

Lincoln gave her another one of his stern looks. "You're going to have to make something of similar caliber on the practical for your Potions O.W.L." When Octavia didn't answer he continued, "Can you think of some occidere potions?"

"The Drink of Despair?"

"Good. What about an mutare potion?"

"Polyjuice."

"A classic example. Good to see you were listening in some of your classes," Lincoln joked lightly, giving her a small smile.

Octavia took the bait and ran with it, "So, are we done? Can we talk about something more interesting? Like you?"

Lincoln frowned. "You do realize the stuff we just went over is only first year material?"

Octavia ignored him, leaning back in her chair and fixing him with her steely green eyes. "When did you first discover you have such a passion for potions?"

"Potions has always just come easily to me. Besides, I want to be a healer," Lincoln said evenly, indulging her and ignoring the innuendo; however, when Octavia received an inch, she always took a mile.

"Ah, the healing arts," she smiled coyly. "Also known as 'the laying of hands.' What else do you like to lay hands on Lincoln?"

"Octavia," Lincoln pinched the bridge of his nose. It would have been cute if he wasn't obviously exasperated with her. Ah, who am I kidding? It's still damn cute. "If you can't focus on our lesson, this won't work."

"I don't know what you mean… I was just trying to be conversational." She opened her eyes wide in surprise. He shook his head and turned back to the book in front of him.

"So," he flipped to the next page, "what are the three most common ingredients used in sanare potions?"

Octavia groaned, dropping her head on the table. She twisted to look up at him over the curve of her right arm, "Can we just take a tiny break?"

"You are the most poorly behaved student I've ever met," he said, but there was a lightness to his voice which counterbalanced his rather valid criticism.

"Who made you a Professor?' Octavia retorted. "You do realize you're still a student, right? You don't want to get too far ahead of yourself, Professor. Most girls aren't interested in dating a silver fox."

Lincoln gave her a scathing look and snapped the book shut, standing up from the corner desk. He whispered heatedly, his frustration no longer contained, "If you're not going to take this seriously-" Too far, Octavia. Too far.

"Look," she grabbed his arm, effectively stilling him, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just not good at Potions. I can't learn anything that doesn't have a wand motion attached to it. I don't know why..." Lincoln looked down at his forearm where her hands still rested. Octavia blushed and drew her arms into herself. She admitted grudgingly, "I hate failing…"

He sighed. "Everyone hates failing, Octavia. That makes you human, but you should've told someone that motion makes it easier for you to learn. That just means you're a kinesthetic learner. There is nothing wrong with you."

Octavia swallowed when she saw the sincerity in his dark brown eyes, "So what do we do?"

"Well," Lincoln paused, thinking, "we could attach hand movements to different aspects of potions to help you remember. Also when you're trying to memorize stuff, it might help if you walked around at the same time."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Family friend who is a muggle school teacher," Lincoln shrugged, relaxing back down into his chair. Hmmm, looks like changing tactics might be more productive.

"It's worth a shot." Octavia said, earnestly. He wants me to be a good little student. I'll be the best damn student he's ever seen.

For the next hour Lincoln came up with hand gestures for different important vocabulary words and concepts in Potions. Octavia tried her best not to make jokes or flirt, but it was increasingly difficult. She was so attracted to him. The only thing stopping her was her sheer determination; she listened to every word he said, trying to soak up as much information as possible.

When fifth period was over, Lincoln left for his next class. Octavia peeked out from the mountain of material he'd assigned her to read before their next session. Making the executive decision to skip the rest of her classes, she let out a heavy sigh and picked up the first scroll titled 'The Many Uses of Wolfsbane (Also Known as Aconite and Monkshood).' The minutes became hours as Octavia poured over the different literature, furiously scribbling notes on anything that seemed important. She learned that there were two hundred and fifty different species of aconitum, but the most commonly used in potions was wolfsbane. As she wrote down various tidbits of information, Octavia remembered to make hand movements to go along with the material.

Every so often she took a lap around the library, reading over the notes she had already written. Octavia could now list twelve different side effects of the Pepperup Potion, accurately describe the differences in sanare, occidere, and mutare potions, as well as recite all the ingredients necessary to make Polyjuice. The last was only partially useful as she had no idea how to brew the ingredients properly. Still, when the sconces on the wall began to brighten, indicating the final retreat of the sun, Octavia had barely made a dent in the enormous pile stacked upon the desk. Her brain felt ready to burst it was so full of new information.

At least I have the weekend to finish this reading, Octavia reminded herself, but that thought only made her realize that there was an entire weekend standing between her and Lincoln. Resigning herself to that fact, she wrote down the names of the remaining reading material; there was no doubt that Madam Tsing would pounce on the table of books the minute Octavia left the library. She stuffed a few of the lighter books in her bag and, not bothering to check them out, Octavia turned her back on the dusty archives.

The atmosphere was immediately improved once she emerged into the brightly lit corridor of the third floor. It was like being reborn. The minute she breathed the fresh air, free from the cloying smell of crumbling old pages, her stomach protested sharply. God, she was ravenous. The walk down to the Great Hall felt like a hundred miles, each step her stomach cramping in protest. She burst through the doors of the hall like a freight train, ready to bowl over anyone who got between her and the food.

By the looks of it, Octavia was at least a few minutes late for dinner; the tables were nearly full and only a few seats stared vacantly at her. She walked quickly over to the Gryffindor table, sliding in between Miller and Bellamy, thankful Lexa was on the other side of the table. She was too hungry to spar right now.

"Where's the food?" Octavia moaned, dropping her bag and laying her head dramatically on the bare table. "I could eat a freaking cow, right now."

Lexa looked down at her, "Jaha still hasn't given the pre-dinner announcements."

"Watch this!" Miller nudged her; after glancing up and down the table to make sure no one was watching, he banged four times on her plate with the dull end of a knife. Nothing happened.

Octavia looked at him skeptically, "Thanks, Miller, but I think I'll wait for the next course."

"No, wait!" Miller shushed her and they both stared at the spot on the table where he had pounded.

"Impressive magic, man," Bellamy said over Octavia's shoulder, barely keeping the smile off his face.

"It will work, I swear!" A moment later her plate filled with an assortment of small, meat and vegetable pies.

"Oh, thank god," Octavia mumbled her appreciation, before falling on the pile of morsels, wolfing down two pies in under a minute. It took the edge off, so she decided to share, throwing a pie to Miller, Bellamy, and Lexa.

Lexa snatched her pie out of the air with catlike reflexes, but then passed the appetizer off to a grateful Bellamy. She looked over to see that Octavia was staring at her as if she had just committed a crime.

"Not hungry?" the younger girl asked with hollow concern. Lexa appraised Octavia.

"I'm saving my appetite," the older girl shrugged, not offering any more details.

"Hot date?" Bellamy asked, finishing off his second pie. Lexa fought down the rare flush that threatened to overwhelm her face. Thanks, Bell.

"Yep," she bobbed her head, keeping her eyes focused on her best friend, "I'm having dinner with Anya."

He smiled, "Good for you."

A soft laugh caught Lexa's attention, drawing her eyes back to the younger Blake who was deep in conversation with Miller. Octavia nudged him playfully and whispered something in the boy's ear. Ridiculous. Everyone knew Miller was gay; he had a boyfriend for crying out loud. Not that that had stopped Octavia in the past. Octavia would flirt with a freaking tree. She shook her head in disbelief, but before she could look away a pair of evergreen eyes caught her; there was always an unspoken challenge between them.

The table erupted with food, breaking the previous tension with an array of roast meats, savory pies, steamed vegetables, and various drinks. The buzz of conversation immediately died down as everyone's attention was directed towards eating. Thankful for the distraction, Lexa took her magically enhanced hamper and began to wrap certain items and place them inside.

"... did you go to the Hospital Wing? " The tail end of Octavia's hushed question reached Lexa's ears. Bellamy made a shushing gesture at his sister that did not go unnoticed. No way. Lexa stopped packing her bag.

She narrowed her eyes at the pair of siblings, "What is she talking about?"

"Nothing." The little shrug Bellamy gave lacked conviction.

"He got into a fist fight," Octavia supplied, giving her brother a satisfied smirk, which he returned with a grimace of his own.

"What the fuck?" Lexa's face held intense disapproval for a heartbeat, before it split into a wide grin. "Without me? I thought we talked about that… you're no good on your own!"

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her cocksure attitude, "Tommy Borlen might say differently."

"Tommy Borlen? If you're referring to that fight on the playground, it was my punch that took Tommy down."

"No way," Bellamy eyes widened in disbelief. "That was totally my win. You were halfway across the playground when he went down!"

"You mean my fist was halfway down Tommy's throat," Lexa corrected, unblinking.

"Fight, fight, fight!" Miller began to chant quietly from the other side of Octavia. Lexa looked at Bellamy, her grin mirroring his own. The plates of food in front of them were pushed hurriedly out of the way, and the competitors clasped their right hands together, elbows down and placed their left hands behind their backs. Miller waved a napkin in front of their faces and counted down from ten, before whipping the white material out of the way with a flourish.

Lexa's muscles went taut as she resisted the strong push of Bellamy's arm against her own. She held his gaze, green clashing with brown in a battle as tense as the one engaging their arms. He tried to fake her out, letting his arm slacken for a moment before returning with double the force, but this was an old trick of his that Lexa had learned long ago. She held her arm steady, breathing through the strain. She just had to hold him long enough so that he would make a mistake. Lexa was stealthy and calculating; she could win any battle that she set her mind to, given enough time to strategize. Bellamy was all heart, putting everything he had into the first wave of assault, holding nothing back. If he could overpower her in the first minute, the battle was his for the taking, but if not…

Both their hands began to shake, but Lexa focused on her breathing, her eyes never leaving Bellamy's. She grinned, sensing her triumph fast approaching. Suddenly, she felt his entire arm twitch; she barely had time to slam it down onto the table before it was ripped from her grasp. Bellamy convulsed and shied away, his face turning a fluorescent shade of pink as Octavia tickled him mercilessly.

"Stop! Not fair! O, stop!" Bellamy gasped out between laughs. Lexa shook her head, not sure whether she was more amused or annoyed. Octavia finally let up, grinning madly. Lexa laughed and the two girls shared a rare smile. It felt like old times.

"So… who won?" Miller asked, ever the pragmatist.

The two friends shared a look, "Octavia."

"Haha, very funny," the younger Blake brushed them off. "Lexa obviously had that one." She grinned at Lexa as Bellamy pretended to look affronted. Lexa rolled her eyes at the pair and took a bite of a meat pie, its savory flavor exploding in her mouth. Octavia gave her strange look.

"What?"

"Aren't you forgetting something… or someone?" Everyone's attention was directed to the basket which still sat half-full on the bench next to Lexa.

"Shit," she groaned, scrambling from the table. "Anya is going to kill me."

"Run, Lex, Run!" Bellamy's shout followed her, but she ignored the directive. No matter how late she was, there would be no runningin the Great Hall. She had higher standards than that. Her hurried footsteps took her down the many stairs to the dungeons. She navigated the strikingly similar corridors until she came to a dead end. The stones morphed into a monstrous face that asked for the password.

"The serpent's tongue," Lexa spoke the words Anya had told her earlier. The stones moved aside to form a large archway, leading into a long passage with a green light at the end.

She walked quickly through the door before its guardian had a chance to realize that she was not a Slytherin. This wasn't the first time Lexa had been to their common room, but the austere coldness of the black stones and minimal furnishings always surprised her. There were antique lamps that dimly bathed the large room with a greenish light. The green hue that surrounded everything was only enhanced by the silk strewn ceiling, a striped array of chartreuse, forest, and evergreen. Every so often the shadow of a ripple would travel across the silks, the only indicator that the common room lay at the very bottom of the Great Lake.

The cool palette of the room was minimally warmed by the yellow glow of the fireplace, whose mantel was an intricate braid of many small serpents twisting to form one large snake. Lexa found Anya sitting on the dark leather couch, facing the dying fire. Odd. She thought the Hogwarts' fires were supposed to be eternally burning or something like that.

"The house elves usually stoke the fires while the students are at dinner. I gave the last one quite a scare." Anya murmured quietly, reading Lexa's mind. She took a swig out of a bottle. The firelight illuminated the glass and revealed its near emptiness. Lexa walked around to the front of the couch, placing the basket on the ground. She knelt in front of Anya, but the older girl's gaze remained fixed on the embers. "Were you with Bellamy?"

"You're mad," Lexa sighed. There was no need to ask; it was written all over Anya's face.

"You're late," the older girl gave a bitter smile. "Again."

"Hey," the Gryffindor placed her hand gently on her girlfriend's knee. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"You're always sorry, Lex," Anya finally looked at Lexa, her champagne brown eyes shining. "Yet you're still late."

"What can I do?" She shifted forward on her knees until she was directly in front of Anya.

"Mean it."

"I do- I will," Lexa reassured the girl in front of her, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Anya's lips. She could tell the moment Anya decided to give in, because the tension in the girl's body melted and she sighed faintly against Lexa's lips.

Anya pulled away. "This doesn't mean I forgive you."

Lexa nodded, smiling wide, "Yes, it does."

She kissed along the Slytherin's delicate collar bone. The smell of jasmine from Anya's favorite lotion clung to her golden skin. Lexa breathed in the heady aroma as she traced a line with her tongue along the inside of her girlfriend's white oxford.

"Nope," Anya gasped, shaking her head. But a smile crept slowly onto her angular face.

"Are you sure?" Lexa whispered in her ear, nuzzling against her slender neck. She sucked on the place behind Anya's ear which she knew was the older girl's weak spot; then in the next breath blew cold air against the tender skin. Anya threw her head back, letting out a sound that was as much a laugh as it was a groan.

"Fine." The older girl grabbed Lexa's face, fusing their mouths together in a heated kiss. Anya slid off the couch and knelt on the rug in front of Lexa. The Gryffindor smiled against her girlfriend's mouth as relief poured through her. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to the Founders that she had managed to skirt past that argument even for one more night. Lexa drew Anya against her until their bodies pressed together and nipped at her full lips. Anya kissed her back hungrily.

Lexa's head began to spin; her hands searched for any bare skin she could find, slipping her fingers under Anya's button-up. She had to consciously remind herself not to rip off the Slytherin's clothes. They were in the common room after all, where anyone could walk in at a moment's notice. And Lexa really didn't want to be caught ass-naked, rutting in front of the fire… as delicious as that sounded. Her rational brain made one last stand; Lexa pulled back, breathing heavily.

She cleared her throat, trying to focus on the words, "I brought food if you're hungry…"

Anya gave her a look that screamed 'are you kidding me?' and said, "I'm starving, but I don't want food anymore."

"What if someone walks in?"

"Ok, so we keep our clothes on. When has that ever stopped you?"

Lexa smirked, "True." An idea sparked in her head. Oh, this is going to be fun. She reached into the hamper and pulled out a bowl of strawberries that she had snagged from the Great Hall.

"Lay down," she commanded. Anya followed her instructions perfectly and Lexa crawled forward to straddle the older girl. Pinching off the green stem, Lexa bit the fat end of the strawberry to hold the fruit firmly between her lips. She bent forward, placing her forearms on either side of Anya's head and lowered the tip of the berry between the other girl's lips. Red juice slid out of Anya's mouth as they shared the fruit. Lexa kissed and licked the syrupy liquid off of her girlfriend's face.

Sitting up, Lexa grinned down at the Slytherin, "I think the student has become the master."

Anya followed her up, "Oh, babe, there is so much more to learn." Lexa felt arms wrap around her and suddenly Anya had them turned over with the Gryffindor pinned beneath her. Lexa laughed, her chest rising off the ground. She was definitely ready to learn.

On the other side of the castle, Raven paced in front of the Hospital Wing, unsure of whether to go inside. She had been outside the doors for more than an hour. She had even skipped dinner to do this, but her resolve had faltered just shy of her goal. There was nothing easy about this situation. After weeks of avoiding it, just the thought made her want to turn tail and run. That's not who you are, Reyes, she told herself firmly and pivoted to walk another lap past the bronze doors.

She turned to face them this time; her strained face looked back at her, muted in the dull surface. One foot at a time. Raven took a halting step, bringing herself closer. She took another one and then another and each one after that came easier like water breaking through an old dam. She pushed open the doors, without giving herself time to think about the alternative.

Finn looked up from the bed, spotting her almost as soon as she walked into the Hospital Wing. Her hand went instinctively to her chest where the silver crane necklace he had made still hung. She hadn't been able to take it off yet, but then again, she hadn't really tried. Raven continued counting her footsteps, each one bringing her closer to the boy she had loved so dearly. Still love, her heart told her, but her mind fought against it. Raven sat down on the bed next to Finn, facing him for the first time by choice.

"Hey," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, because she didn't know what else to say. Everything felt so wrong.

"A little sore, but I should be all better in the morning. Apparently cracked ribs take a little longer to heal," he tried to laugh and then grimaced. "Professor Griffin won't give me Skelo-Grow until right before bed. I guess it hurts less if you're asleep." He was rambling now. Raven nodded as he fell silent.

"I… I didn't tell him - Jasper… I didn't tell Jasper to do that," she breathed out, saying what she had come to say. "I just wanted you to know that… I am sorry you're hurt."

"I know that, Raven," he said quietly, not looking at her. "I know you better than anyone, remember?" Her heart clenched at his words.

"That used to be true," she replied firmly, "but it's not anymore."

"Raven, please." His voice was earnest, pleading. "I love you. I'll always love you. I know we can fix this." I can't listen to this right now, her eyes flew up the ceiling, searching for a shred of calm in the lofty rafters.

"You don't want to have this conversation right now, Finn." Raven ground her teeth, the remorse she had felt for his injury ebbing away as he reminded her of all the ways she had been injured by him.

"Yes," he breathed out. "Yes, I do. I want to talk-"

"About what Finn?" Raven exploded, her voice reverberating of the stone walls. The shrillness of it echoed painfully in her own ears. She took a breath and lowered her voice, "About what? Huh? About how you lied to me for two months? How you saw her and then came home to your parents? I live there, Finn! They're my family too. You were my family. And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. All I got was white sheet of paper with three fucking words written on it from a stranger I didn't know."

"If you had just stayed-"

"With you? With your parents? You may have been able to lie to them everyday, but I couldn't."

"Raven-"

"I know she's here, Finn."

Silence fell between them, growing louder and louder until the only part of the room it hadn't consumed was the flickering of the sconces on the wall. They hissed like jeering spectators. Finally Finn's lips moved and noise penetrated the quiet.

"Let me explain."

"No," Raven refused, shaking her head. "There's nothing to explain. I didn't come here to talk, Finn. I just came to say that I'm sorry you're hurt and now I'm not even sure that I am."

His eyes were glassy and the pain there tugged on something in her own heart. Was he going to apologize? Raven's heart thundered at the possibility. What would she say?

Finn fixed his gaze on her. "You not talking to me hurts more than any broken rib."

"Don't do that," Raven snapped and even though her tone was sharp as steel, her throat constricted on disappointment. "Don't make this about you. I can't trust you anymore! I don't know if we'll ever be able to talk the way we used to and I'm certainly not ready to try… I need you to respect that."

He was quiet for a moment and then nodded although it looked like it took great effort. They sat there in silence as the matron began to make her rounds. Raven stayed with him in that brimming silence until the candles were all snuffed out, until the room was bathed in darkness and all the things said and unsaid that still stood between them became suffocating. A murmured goodbye left her lips and it was almost as quiet as her retreating footsteps which faded like shadows into the vastness of the old castle.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Are you enjoying any of the characters in particular? Is there one that's frustrating you more than the rest? One of my betas is a Ravenclaw and she just about died reading Octavia's disregard for library etiquette. Your reviews feed the beast and help me to write more! Until next time Xx