Author's Notes: Hey everyone! Sorry for the eons that have passed since the last update. My life has been pretty crazy! As most of you know, I walked the Camino de Santiago in April. Seven hundred and ninety kilometers across the north of Spain. I was walking for a month! It was seriously an incredible experience. I wanted to get another update out so that you don't think I've given up on this story. I haven't! I have the entire thing planned out and it is just about sitting down to write it. With that said...

I won't have a home base to write from until my visa expires. Because of this, I won't be able to update consistently until I'm settled back in the States in July.

To those of you who have left reviews: THANK YOU! It really means so much to hear your reactions to the story. It gives me fuel to write more :)

Durin's Bane-FH: Yay! I'm so glad you like the friendship between Lexa and Bellamy. It's one of my favorite parts of the story to write!

MoreOfALoner: It is so good to know that the story is keeping you hooked! Let me know what you think of this chapter ;)

Matzy: Wow. I could not be more humbled by your review. Seriously, I've re-read it multiple times when I've needed a boost of confidence. It means the world that you took the time to tell me all the pieces you love about this story and about my writing. Wow. Seriously, I'm blown away and really grateful to have a reader like you!

If you want to receive updates when any new chapters are posted, you can follow me on Tumblr or follow the story here on FFN. I've got a lot of exciting things planned to reward you guys with for being so patient! Look out for those surprises in early July :) Until then, here's chapter nine!

Chapter Nine:

An Invisible Heart

And promise me this
You'll wait for me only
Scared of the lonely arms
Surface, far below these birds
And maybe, just maybe I'll come home
Who am I, darling to you?
Who am I?
To tell you stories of mine
Who am I?
Promise - Ben Howard

Raven tapped her pen against the blank parchment in front of her. A few dots of ink scattered across the paper and mared its pristine surface. A sigh escaped her lips, but still no words took shape on the page.

"Eat, Raven," Monty's voice pulled her from the trance into which she had fallen.

"What?" For the first time this morning, she took in the others sitting at the Ravenclaw table. She gave a cursory glance to the cinnamon oatmeal next to her, which had long since cooled to an inedible temperature.

"Food. You know, the stuff you chew and swallow?" Monty pantomimed eating. Raven waved away his serious expression.

"I need to finish this analysis. As you can tell I haven't gotten very far," she indicated the ink splotched paper in front of them.

"While I'm all for procrastinating, Monty is right." Jasper pushed the oatmeal at her.

"It's cold," she said dismissively, not intending to be rude. There was something pulling at the back of her mind - the perfect sentence to begin this report. The words were almost formed…

Jasper pointed his wand at her bowl, "Recalfacio." Steam rose from the hot cereal, taking with it the words from Raven's head. She pinched her eyes closed as if to hold them in… but, no, the words were gone. The brunette let out an annoyed huff.

"Fine," Raven grumbled and pulled the oatmeal closer. She shoveled a warm spoonful into her mouth. "Happy?" She didn't bother to swallow.

Jasper grinned, "Delighted."

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture was half-hearted. Her friends knew her too well. When she was focused on something, it took one hundred percent of her attention. Now that her mind was on food, Raven realized she was ravenous; the oatmeal tasted sweet and sticky and completely delicious. She moaned and took another bite almost burning her tongue in her haste.

After a few more bites, Raven looked up to glare at Jasper's satisfied smirk. He winked and grabbed the blank parchment in front of her, dragging the paper to his side of the table.

"Now," Jasper cleared his throat, "What is this paper on? I'll write. You eat." He pointed Raven's own pen at her in mock sternness.

Oatmeal almost fell out of Raven's mouth as she stared at her friend.

"Close your mouth, Reyes. I've been known to do homework on occasion." Jasper materialized glasses and placed them low on the bridge of his nose. "Now... subject?"

She swallowed, "The differences in primitive dwellings of ancient wizards and how it affected their social structure."

To Jasper's credit, he didn't flinch; the Ravenclaw boy cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, and hunkered down over the sheet of parchment.

"Jasper," Raven laughed, "You're not even in the class!"

He ignored her and began to dictate to himself, "The differences in the primitive dwellings of ancient wizards can best be described through sesquipedalian or circumlocutory analysis."

"What?" Raven shook her head, biting back a smile.

"Sesquipedalian," Jasper repeated himself as he looked at her over the rims of his spectacles.

"You realize that makes no sense right?"

Monty interjected, "Sesquipedalian means-"

"Meaning is unimportant," Jasper waved his hand confidently. "Use erroneously large words. Professors are lazy. Trust me. They'll give you a passing grade and not bother to read your ridiculous paper."

Raven stared at him, "You're crazy. That can't possibly work."

"It does," Jasper was adamant. "Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes…"

"No! Jasper!" Raven grabbed the paper from him, laughing, "I'm going to have to rewrite it anyways. I'll just head to the library now. I have a free period."

"Oh, me too," Jasper jumped up with her. "I'll come with you."

Raven shook her head, "You're just going to distract me."

"When have I ever distracted you?" Jasper pretended to take offense. Raven's eyebrows darted up, but the boy simply skipped forward, grinning.

The halls were near empty and it took them no time to travel between the Great Hall and the third floor entrance to the library. When they had rounded the corner, Jasper sped up and opened the door for Raven. She gave him a funny look.

"I can open the door, you know?"

"I wouldn't want it to distract you," Jasper whispered as they entered the stalls, placing a hand to his heart in a show of sincerity.

Raven snorted, shoving him in retaliation. They sat down at the first available table and Raven wasted no time in laying out her materials before her; she needed to buckle down and write this report.

"Damn it," she cursed as she saw what was missing. "I left my History of Magic book in the Hall. I'll be right back."

"No, no," Jasper jumped up, "I'll get it. Five minutes!"

Before Raven could refuse, he was gone. The wooden door swung erratically in his wake and Madam Tsing was on the wayward object in seconds. Raven watched the progress of the wizened woman across the room as she retreated back to the circulation desk. The Ravenclaw's eyes caught midway on a certain Gryffindor sitting across the room.

Roan flashed her a smile. Raven forced herself to glare back despite the fluttering in her stomach. She cleared her throat and drug her gaze back down to the still blank parchment in front of her. She should have had this paper finished ages ago. She should have at least started it last night; however, Raven wasn't about to tell Jasper or any of her friends why she was behind in her homework. They didn't need to know the reason was a particularly handsome seventh year. When she had decided Roan would make a good distraction from all the drama with Finn, Raven hadn't anticipated just how good he would be at distracting her.

It seemed he was doing his job too well, but she couldn't find it in herself to be bothered - not when warmth suffused her body at the thought of his large hands running through her hair or the memory of his warm lips searching hungrily against her bare skin. In fact, Raven had barely found the willpower to push him back last night when they were alone in the empty Transfigurations classroom. Somehow, through the heavy breathing, the heat of his gaze and their forehead pressed flush, she had. Her gut was telling her to take it slow and Raven always listened to her gut. It rarely led her astray.

The familiar heat of his gaze still lingered on her, but Raven didn't know if it was real or simply from the rush of her memory. She decided to determine which was true… for science, of course. Her gaze rose from the parchment and she found Roan still smiling at her from across the library. His tall form stretched out lazily in his chair as if he was simply enjoying the view. His boyish smile tugged one onto her own face. As soon as her lips turned up, the Gryffindor sprung to his feet and stalked towards her with purpose.

"No," Raven put out her hand as he attempted to sit down at her table. "No, I have homework to do."

Roan raised his hands innocently. He abandoned the chair, but circled around the table to stand behind her. "What class?"

"History of Magic," she stated, twisting slightly to look at him. The full intensity of his slate blue eyes fell on her face.

"I could help," his voice was dangerously soft.

"I don't need help."

"I wasn't suggesting you did." A wry smile tugged at his lips, "I took the class last year. I could give you a few… pointers."

"Oh?"

"Mmm-hmm." His gaze drifted down her face, lingering on her lips, before dipping to the blank parchment on the desk and back up to her tawny brown irises, "...at least to get you started."

Raven's hand slid over the paper on the desk and her eyes narrowed, holding his steadily. She didn't know when he had leaned down, but his face was extremely close to hers and their lips only inches apart. Her eyes darted down of their own accord. Roan smirked at the direction of her gaze and suddenly she wanted to punch him. Raven opened her mouth to tell him so, but a throat cleared loudly, breaking the moment and the tension like a fragile carton of eggs.

Jasper stood with her book held casually in his hands. He looked completely at ease, leaning slightly to one side, but his knuckles were white against the book's dark leather surface. Raven bit back any embarrassment. She knew Jasper didn't approve of her choice of distraction, but she sure as hell didn't need his permission.

"Azgeda," Jasper nodded lazily at Roan.

"Jordan," the Gryffindor straightened behind her chair, his hands resting on the back. The tension increased tenfold and Raven nearly choked on it. This is a disaster.

"Thanks, Jasper," she offered trying to distract him and break whatever staring contest in which the boys were engaged. It worked. Her housemate handed the book across the table.

"Ah, Mandagle's Evolution of Magic," Roan leaned over her shoulder to read the title. "He's a self-righteous prick, but there is some decent information after chapter ten. Should help with your report."

"He took the class last year," Raven shrugged at Jasper's tight expression.

"Not only that, but I got top marks on all my essays."

Jasper's lips twitched and Raven knew he was keeping himself from making a snarky comment. Honestly, if she wasn't so distracted by the weirdness that had erupted between the three of them, she might have made her own.

"Well," her friend exhaled, "I'll see you later then." His pointed look was not lost on her.

"You don't have to-"

"Later, Jordan," Roan called after his retreating form. Jasper gave a half-wave over his shoulder without looking back.

Raven glared at the Gryffindor as he took a seat beside her, "You're such an ass."

"One of my many charms," he said without pause. "You know he's into you, right?"

"What? Jasper?" Raven spluttered and then barked out a laugh that turned into a snort.

"Yeah. Jasper. He's got it bad for you."

Raven shook her head and smiled at the ridiculousness of the comment. She'd have to tell Jasper about it later. "No, Roan, he just really, really, doesn't like you."

"Okay."

"No, seriously. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay."

"Are you going to help me with this report or just annoy me?" Raven glared at him, her face becoming flushed and uncomfortably warm. Roan laughed and pulled her book towards him.

Four floors below, Octavia bounced her legs in a ragged rhythm against the underside of the table. She tapped the wood with her fingers, then realized what she was doing and balled her hands into fists. Her eyes never left Professor Griffin's figure as the older woman circulated around the room.

The Potions professor handed back sheets of paper; the receival of the test from the day before was varied - elated whoops, groans of disappointment, sometimes abject silence. Octavia didn't know which response was worse. Still, she catalogued each in her head and tried to predict what her own outcome would be. The test hadn't been awful, but there were too many answers of which she had been unsure to give her any real confidence in her prediction. She wanted to do well. She needed to do well.

The air became thin as the professor approached her table. Harper's sigh hit Octavia like a physical blow. If Harper wasn't happy… Octavia had failed. She knew it. That question about the physical and metaphysical properties of dragon's blood had been worth too many points. Oh god, she had definitely failed.

"Ms. Blake," Professor Griffin stood in front of her, a sheet of paper held out between them. Octavia's hands felt leaden, dead. "Well done."

Her jade eyes flew up to her professor's. Well done. A small smile hid at the corner of the older woman's mouth. Octavia's hands darted out and clamped around the parchment. She turned it over. Big red letters at the top of the page read '87/100' and below in the professor's smaller, slanted writing, 'Worth an E on your OWLs, Ms. Blake.'

Sweet relief flooded Octavia so fast that her head spun, then the sharp taste of triumph eclipsed it. She was almost giddy. Every part of her body tingled. I did it, she thought and felt pride swell within her. She had not only passed the test, but she'd done well. Better than well…

"Thanks, Professor," Octavia choked out and then laughed breathlessly and leaned back against her chair as the teacher continued to the next student.

Energy bubbled under her skin making every cell in her body hum with satisfaction. Then a thought hit her. There was someone else that would be just as excited to hear about her success: Lincoln. She couldn't wait to share it with him.

Octavia shoved her things into her rucksack faster than she thought possible and was out of the door in under a minute, even though the class had yet to be officially dismissed. She didn't care. Her body was buzzing, her steps light.

She had no idea where Lincoln would be - perhaps the library, perhaps already at lunch - she didn't care, she would find him. She could already picture the expression that would wash over his face when she told him. His stoicism would still win, but there would be a warmth in his eyes, a restrained pride - the same expression she'd come to recognize each time she surprised him with what she knew, the same expression she'd come to crave.

Octavia didn't have to look for her tutor for long; almost as if the universe was willing it to be so. She caught sight of him on the first floor as soon as she entered the corridor. Her heart leapt and she all but sprinted down the hall towards him.

"Lincoln," she breathed out when she reached him. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and lead him further down the corridor, shouting a quick 'he'll only be a moment' to the person with whom he'd been speaking.

The first classroom she dragged him into was undoubtedly occupied. Octavia laughed her apology and pushed Lincoln back out the way they had come, her fingers wound around his large hand. They stumbled across the hallway into a small study room that was mercifully empty.

"What are you doing, Octavia?" Lincoln's stern voice resonated behind her as soon as they entered the room. He extricated his hand from her grip carefully, not unkindly, but Octavia noted the mild annoyance in his tone. She bit her lip and turned to face him. Her green eyes sparkled and her mouth pulled into a wicked grin, but she remained mute. Her mind had been so loud and now it just hummed peacefully, happily. She swallowed and shoved the test against his chest. Her stomach ached and Octavia suddenly recognized she was self conscious. It was an uncomfortable feeling and not one with which she was familiar. Twisting her hands together, Octavia turned away as Lincoln flipped over the paper.

"Is this your potion's test?"

She nodded, pacing.

"Eighty-seven? Wow, Octavia, that's incredible!" his voice washed over her.

She spun around, "Isn't it?"

"Good job," he smiled at her.

She returned his warmth and took a step forward, "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes, you could," he placed his hands on her arms. "This is your win, O."

Octavia's breath caught in her throat at the nickname. No one had ever called her 'O' except for Bellamy. Not even Lexa. Her chest felt suddenly tight. She laughed, stomach fluttering at the steadiness of his dark gaze.

"I can't believe I did it," she admitted and smiled from ear to ear. "I hate potions. Ha! Potions hates me. I just-"

"I can," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I can believe it."

Without thinking, Octavia threw her arms over Lincoln's shoulders and hugged him. Her throat painfully tight, but she refused the tears that threatened to come. Instead, she turned her face into his warm neck and whispered, "Thank you."

His body tensed beneath her and, for a moment, Octavia thought he was going to push her away. But he didn't. His strong arms wrapped around her middle and pulled her against him firmly. Octavia knew it was just a hug, but she let her eyes drift close and for a few seconds allowed herself to pretend it was more. She wanted to stay like this forever. Wrapped around him. Warm. Safe. Wanted. She breathed out slowly. She knew she should be the one to put distance between them, to respect the boundaries he'd drawn. She gathered her resolve like a shield, ready to step away… until Lincoln did something that made her heart stop.

His face turned with excruciating slowness into her long hair and his breath rattled in sharply. A shiver ran down her spine. Had Octavia imagined that? No, he had all but buried his face in her hair. Even now she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She made to pull back, to understand what this was, but his muscles twitched at her retreat and he tightened his arms around her. Octavia gasped softly and her stomach dropped.

With their bodies flush together, she could feel the erratic beating of his heart against her breasts. He must have been able to feel hers as well. Every place where their bodies touched burned with the most glorious heat. She needed more. The expanse of brown skin that emerged from his collar was calling to her. If she shifted slightly she would be able to kiss him right there. As soon as the thought took shape in her mind it lodged itself there permanently. She needed to taste him, to know that this moment was real. Octavia tilted her head down.

A groan escaped him and his body shuddered beneath her as her lips grazed against his sensitive skin.

"Octavia," his voice was strangled, barely formed and she could feel the conflict of his mind and heart as if he could both push her away and pull her closer. His body, however, knew exactly what it wanted and as if in confirmation his arms tightened around her until she could feel every ridge of his jeans, every fold in his jumper, every angle of his body.

She turned further into him, kissing along his jawline. One of her hands cradled the back of his head and her fingers tingled against the smoothness of his scalp. His breathing rattled harshly against her ear, yet Octavia could barely force herself to exhale, afraid to shatter the moment with even one fragile breath. Her lips came to the end of his jaw and paused. There was nowhere else to go. She had come to the inevitable.

Octavia pulled back; her green eyes found his dark brown ones. She pressed her forehead to his, bringing her lips closer, but not daring to touch. Lincoln's gaze darted down then back up.

"Lincoln," she breathed out, an unspoken invitation. She could close the space between them, but he had to be the one to do it. This she knew.

His brow furrowed against hers, his eyes tracing her face as if searching for a reason to pull away or to come closer. Whatever he found there, Octavia couldn't say, but it was enough and in an instant he had bridged the distance to press his mouth against hers. She gasped into his kiss as surprise and elation filled her. The sound had barely escaped when it caught half-formed in her throat as Lincoln lifted her off the ground. Octavia instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing every inch of her body against him even as she kissed him desperately.

Lincoln carried her forwards until her back hit something solid and she found herself pinned between him and the wall. Octavia moaned into his mouth as his hands traced along her arms and pulled them overhead. His fingers entwined through hers, holding them against the wall behind them.

His tongue traced her bottom lip and Octavia could taste the mint of his toothpaste on her lips. Lincoln's mouth fused to hers and she felt his desperation as her own and the need to be even closer consumed her.

Voices floated down the corridor outside, but Octavia ignored them. One hand slipped out of his grip and she pulled him harder against her.

"Are you going to do it today?" The voices outside the room were suddenly clear. Too clear.

"Nah, I'll put off my humiliation until later."

Octavia froze, her head yanking back. She would recognize her brother's voice anywhere. Bellamy's and Lexa's. Her stomach fell and she felt herself pull back from Lincoln.

"Octav-" Her hand flew to his mouth, stifling her name from his lips before anyone outside might hear it. The voices were clear as day now and only thin wood separated them.

Octavia's feet hit the floor as Lincoln extracted himself from her grasp, confusion written on his face.

"I should go," he said quietly. She shook her head. She wanted to tell him to stay, but she couldn't say that, or anything. Not until they passed. They would recognize her voice. They would ruin this.

She shook her head again and made to reach for him, but Lincoln was already twisting the doorknob and then slipping through it. Octavia closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall. Damn it.

Bellamy's head snapped to the left as the door next to him opened. An older guy appeared, looking slightly disheveled with his yellow tie askew. Bellamy didn't recognize him, but he could guess what he had been doing. He bit back a smirk as the Hufflepuff gave him a nod and walked off stiffly. Bellamy turned back to Lexa. She hadn't even bothered hiding the knowing grin on her face.

"I still think you should ask her the next time you see her," Lexa said as they continued down the corridor away from Indra's office. Ten minutes ago, Bellamy had been bemoaning that the Prefects' meeting would never end, but now he found himself wishing they were still with their Head of House.

"Like I said, I prefer to avoid that particular embarrassment," Bellamy muttered.

"You don't know that she'll say 'no'."

"I don't know if she'll say 'yes' either."

"That is generally the point of asking someone, Bell," Lexa pointed out as if he didn't already know that. Bellamy was tired of talking about himself; it always made him uncomfortable.

"What about you, huh? Have you decided what to do about Anya?"

"Yeah," Lexa nodded as they rounded the corner and began to descend the stairs.

"And?"

"I'm going to talk to her."

"That's good… it is good, right?" Bellamy's eyes appraised the reaction of his best friend.

Lexa chuckled, "Yeah, it's good. You are the one who told me to slay my demons, face my fears, remember?"

"Yeah, of course," Bellamy smiled at her quoting him... even if it was slightly mocking, "As long as it's what you want."

"It is."

"Good."

They reached the bottom of the grand staircase just as a particular blonde emerged from the dining hall. Clarke caught sight of the pair and approached with purposeful strides. Both Gryffindors couldn't help but stare.

"You're right. There is a certain… something about her," Lexa said in a hushed voice to him.

"I know," was all Bellamy could manage with Clarke making a beeline for him. His Adam's apple bobbed dramatically.

"Ask her," Lexa said pointedly and clapped him on the shoulder before she took off. Bellamy didn't see what expression Lexa gave Clarke as she passed the girl. His mind pictured those arched brows raising ever so slightly in passing, but, of course, he couldn't be sure. Either way, Clarke was distracted and Bellamy forced his body to remember how to breathe properly without the heat of her scrutiny.

"Hey," he greeted when she drew up in front of him. Clarke's gaze trailed after the retreating figure of his best friend and Bellamy had to say her name more than once to bring the Slytherin back to the present.

"Clarke?"

Her head swiveled around and she took him in.

"What's up?" He prompted and thanked whatever gods were listening that his voice was steadier than he felt. Just her presence made him nervous. Could she tell how much time he spent thinking about her just from his dazed expression? When her blue eyes pierced him, he felt sure she could see every daydream and every depraved fantasy he had ever imagined.

"Hey," she returned his earlier greeting. "I'm going back to the cave if you want to come."

"Right now?" the surprise was evident in his voice.

"Yes. Right now. Are you busy?"

"No," he responded, then flushed at his obvious eagerness. "I mean, I could rearrange my schedule."

She gave him an amused look, "If you don't mind."

He smiled. Clarke shook her head with a sharp laugh. "Come on, Bellamy."

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name falling from her lips. He jogged to catch up with her.

"Did you talk to Professor Wallace?"

She nodded, "I left a sample of the runes with him. Though he wasn't too happy about my inability to answer any of his questions about their origins."

"What did you tell him," he asked curiously.

"Just that it was a project I had started right before leaving Durmstrang and that I was hoping to continue it."

"That's smart…" Bellamy admitted, then spoke again as the thought occurred to him, "But what if he contacts your professor at Durmstrang? You know... the one who is supposed to have helped you?"

"He won't do that," Clarke said, her eyes more steel the sky in that moment.

"But if he-"

"He won't," Clarke repeated without looking at Bellamy, "because I told him the professor was my dad."

Bellamy almost tripped over a branch as his head whipped towards her. He cringed at his own awkwardness and forced his head back to center. She doesn't want to feel pitied, man.

"Your expression is only slightly better than Wallace's was," Clarke told him when she glanced over.

"Sorry," he cleared his throat and tried to wipe his features clean of whatever expression they held. "Sorry," he repeated, unsure of whether he was apologizing for his lack of tact or for her father's death.

She shrugged, "Don't sweat it, Blake."

They entered the forest and walked the path to the cave with little difficulty, both familiar with the route by now. Bellamy noted that the trees seemed less sinister with Clarke by his side. Perhaps it was simply that he was distracted.

He constantly searched for excuses to look at her. When the conversation lulled he asked her a question, addicted to the high he felt for those brief moments that their eyes connected. Her blue would flash to his brown for a second and his stomach would tighten; he felt like he was falling in those moments, but to where he did not know.

"If we stay a few hours, we should be able to copy down the rest of the runes," Clarke observed as they settled onto the earthen floor of the cave. Bellamy watched as she pulled out ink and quill. He made a conscious effort to sit a reasonable distance from her, unsure what his body would have done without the rational judgment of his head. He pulled out his own parchment and writing utensils and began to work. He tried to forget that Clarke was sitting only a few feet from him. He tried to forget that his heart rate had been elevated for a dangerously long amount of time and showed no signs of normalizing. He tried to forget that his bag was stuffed full of parchment - more than he would ever need for class - just in case this very scenario occurred.

"What if we translate this and it turns out to be some pervy old wizard's amateur erotica that he wrote when he was bored." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. When Clarke only stared at him, Bellamy felt his skin begin to grow hot. He coughed, anything to break the silence.

A soft snort sounded next to him. Then a heartier chuckle fell from her lips, "What, some ancient wizarding kama sutra?"

"Exactly," Bellamy chuckled. His quill slipped and the line he was drawing looked more like a curve. He crumbled the sheet and laid down a new piece of parchment. It's not like you don't have enough.

"Then," Clarke said easily, "you can take all the credit for finding this place."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and they fell silent again. The sound of quills against parchment created a background hum that should have been comforting, but Bellamy's stomach would not stop churning. He had a question. He wanted to ask this question. His mind provided a million scenarios on what would follow, on what her response would be. But the truth was that he had no idea how she would receive it and that terrified him. He - Bellamy Blake - was terrified. It was both humiliating and exhilarating to care this much, even if it was only visible inside his own heart.

After giving Lexa a pep talk about slaying demons and not living in fear, Bellamy had decided that the next time he saw Clarke, he would just say it. Just say how he felt, how much he liked her… but now that he was here, his throat felt thick and scratchy, his heart raced, and his resolve melted.

Thoughts boiled in his head until his mouth felt dry and his tongue felt heavy and he realized that his quill had dripped ink all over the page and ruined his last drawing. He glanced over and saw that Clarke had already filled three pages with scribbled runes. He flushed and drew a breath. Just say it.

"Clarke, I really like-" his voice froze as her blue eyes found his. He cleared his throat, swallowed, "I like… that rune." Her brows furrowed. Those blue eyes fell to the page where he pointed and then rose back to his.

"You like that rune," she repeated.

"Yes," his face felt uncomfortably hot, "It's interesting."

She shrugged and turned back to the page she was working on. Try again, Blake. What was wrong with him? He never had this much trouble with girls. Ever.

"So, um," Bellamy started again. This time keeping his eyes on his page so that he didn't falter. He pretended to perfect a part of a rune that he had copied twenty minutes ago. "Hogsmeade is open to students next weekend…"

There was a pause then her voice cut through the air, "Is that a question?"

Bellamy chuckled, "Oh, no. I thought maybe it would be fun if we went together. You know, get a butterbeer or something…"

Clarke's breath caught in her throat. She didn't know what she had been expecting him to say, but it wasn't that. She looked over at the tall boy beside her. His walnut brown eyes were fixed on her, waiting.

"Oh," she breathed out, but it wasn't Bellamy's face that swam before her. It was Finn's. His boyish half-grin goofy and light. What had he asked her exactly? Had he said 'do you want to grab a drink?' or had it simply been a statement - 'we should grab a drink.' Clarke couldn't recall, but it was suddenly so important that she remember. Which one had he said? Which one?

She blinked and this time it wasn't Finn that stared back, but Bellamy with those beautiful, innocent eyes gazing at her, expectantly. Her heart clenched and it was the weight of those expectations that constricted it. What if she said yes? What if they went for a drink? What if he realized how small, how damaged she really was on the inside? What if he left like everyone else? She didn't need her small circle of friends to get any smaller. It had already taken a hit with Anya last week. That evening was supposed to have been fun and easy. Clarke hadn't wanted anything to come of it, but she definitely didn't expect for Anya to systematically avoid her. And Clarke couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. See, she reminded herself, expectations ruin everything. Clarke swallowed, hard, and looked down at the incomplete page before her.

"Yeah, sounds like fun," she forced her voice to sounds light, "We should, um, get a group together." Clarke winced as she said the last part, thankful she didn't have to see whatever emotion passed over his face. She bent down to scribble another rune. The scratch of her quill seemed to echo through the cave and it sounded almost as loud as the thumping of her heart. Why did you have to ask? She thought - frustrated with him, frustrated with herself.

"Yeah," Bellamy's deep voice resounded through the cavern, washing over her in waves, "Yeah, let's get a group together."

If he was upset, he did a good job of not showing it. Clarke released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She felt the mood shift instantly.

Bellamy gave her a playful nudge, "You need more friends anyways."

"I have friends!" She protested.

"More non-Slytherin friends."

"I'm a Slytherin," Clarke pretended to be indignant, but it was half-assed because she was smiling, relieved.

"We can't all be exceptional, princess." His tone was so sincere that it took Clarke by surprise, but when she looked over he simply smirked and went back to scribbling down the runes.

A lump formed in Clarke's throat as she watched him, his lanky form bent over, silhouetted in the low light. A bubble of regret threatened to pop within her, but she shoved it down with practiced resolve. Even with her rogue emotions under tight lock, Clarke found her gaze lingering on his profile and the way it cast shadows on the far wall for the remainder of the afternoon.

It was half past seven by the time Lexa finally made her way to the Slytherin common room. An inconvenient time really because it was unlikely that anyone would be there. Everyone was at dinner… well everyone except for her. Lexa figured if she skipped dinner and waited outside the entrance to the dungeons, she was bound to cross paths with Anya. The older girl had been avoiding her, not that Lexa could find fault with that. Still, it had provided a challenge in orchestrating this meet-cute.

Her last argument with Anya had been playing on a loop in her head for the past week, a constant reminder of her issues with intimacy and all the ways she had been a terrible girlfriend. It was like a crack in a floodgate; that tiny fissure allowed every little mistake, every incidence where she'd let her fear or trust issues control her life come back to voice grievances, a chorus of memories that wanted their time in the sun, wanted to be rehashed like opening an old sore.

How many people had she shut out or run away from for fear of being hurt? How many times had she used sarcasm and bitterness to avoid expressing any genuine emotion. She was tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of hiding behind her carefully constructed fortress. She didn't know if she loved Anya, but she loved when they were together. She loved that Anya laughed when Lexa was a bit of a dick. She loved the way Anya smiled when they kissed. She loved how she had found herself in a long-term relationship without even realizing it because Anya was that easy going... or had been before Lexa fucked it up. It had been so effortless before. She wanted that again. This time she was willing to make some compromises, willing to be vulnerable.

The sconces on the wall flickered with each length Lexa stalked. Back and forth, she paced as she mulled over the right words to say. The monstrous, stone face materialized for the fifth time and then hissed upon seeing it was still only her and retreated. Lexa rolled her eyes, but was distracted by the appearance of Emori and Murphy at the top of the corridor. They walked hand in hand, heads bent together. Lexa's stomach clenched and she cleared her throat. They moved apart, barely, but Emori gave a shout back up the hall.

"Someone's here for you, Anya."

The couple brushed by Lexa just as Anya rounded the corner. The older girl still seemed surprised to see her despite the warning. Lexa wondered briefly who else she might have been expecting.

"Hey," Lexa gave the Slytherin a sheepish smile, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Anya's shock transformed into frustration and she made to walk by the Gryffindor.

"Wait, Anya," Lexa put up her hand to stop the brunette. "Please."

"Why are you here, Lexa?" she asked and crossed her arms over her chest. Lexa knew that gesture. It was defensive, hurt. God, she'd fucked up.

"To apologize."

"Oh?"

Lexa took a breath and stepped forward, speaking slowly, "I'm sorry for avoiding you. I'm sorry for letting my fears get between us and for not trusting you with them. I'm sorry for not being open when you said you loved me. Most of all, I'm sorry for making you feel unwanted. I want you. All of you."

Each apology brought Lexa one step closer to Anya until she was only inches away. The older girl's lips trembled and a few tears escaped her champagne eyes even though she tried to blink them away.

"Lexa-" she breathed out, shaking her head. Panic filled the Gryffindor so she rushed on, needing to say all that she had come to say.

"I know that I have a hard time opening up, but if you can just be patient with me, I promise to try my best to be open and honest with you about how I am feeling."

"Lexa, I can't- You have to know-" Tears now streamed down Anya's face and her eyes looked pained. The older girl gripped herself tightly around the waist and made to turn away, but the Gryffindor stopped her.

"Hey, hey," Lexa rubbed her hands gingerly up and down the girl's back, trying to comfort. "I promise this time will be different. Here. See? It's a fresh start." She pried one of Anya's hands away from her side and shook it with her own. "I'm Lexa. It's nice to meet you."

Anya half laughed, shaking her head again - her eyes still glassy with tears.

"What's your name?" Lexa squeezed her hand, stepping closer. "I'm sure we've met before."

"Okay, okay," Anya snorted softly at Lexa's expectant expression, "I'm Anya."

"That's better." Lexa murmured and wiped the tears from her girlfriend's face with her thumbs. She placed a kiss on Anya's forehead and drew her into a hug. Warmth filled the Gryffindor as Anya's arms wrapped around her; for a moment, the feeling of being held overwhelmed Lexa. It took her breath away. The words tried to catch in her throat but she forced them out. This time was going to be different. She had promised.

"I missed you," Lexa admitted, pulling the Slytherin tighter against her.

Anya breathed out unevenly and for a moment Lexa thought she was going to cry more. Instead, Anya simply said, "I missed you too."

Author's Notes 2:

What did you think? Anya and Lexa are back together… Do you think they'll be able to work things out? Things are getting heated between Roan and Raven. Bellamy and Clarke are not on the same page. Octavia can't seem to catch a break with Lincoln. Who are you rooting for? Are any of the characters pissing you off at the moment? Sound off in the reviews!

Stay tuned for the long-awaited REAL meeting between Clarke and Lexa, for Raven and Clarke to finally talk, for more clues surrounding the mysterious runes and, of course, more tension between all our beloved delinquents! Don't give up hope. This story is going to be big and epic and back in full swing sooner than you think :) Xx until then!