A/N: Don't kill me, please! I know it's been forever.

Also, MoreOfALoner: Thank you! Your praise makes me blush. So glad you like the story.

Chapter Thirteen:

It's Best Off If We Burn the Page

I guess I'm tired of talk of hope
I've learned that doves and ravens fly the same
But suddenly she's all I know
An old refrain
Glory - Dermot Kennedy

Laughter died in her lungs as she felt Bellamy go stiff beneath her. It was only in that moment that Clarke realized the intimacy of their position, when his body froze like the first frost of winter under which she could still feel the faint tremble of life. Clarke had been so focused on freeing her restrained legs that her mind had not processed the sharp ridges of the boy beneath her. Then the absurdity of it all - their duel, her fall - had overwhelmed everything else. But now Clarke could feel everything. The buttons of his shirt pressing against her chest. His kneecaps digging into her shins. And other places which she tried not to think about.

It was as if she had been suddenly shoved into a glass box where every one of her senses was amplified. Their mixed breath echoed loudly in her ears and she felt tension ripple through Bellamy's neck as he stiffened against her warm cheek. Her lungs filled with the smell of him and the surrounding forest, a strange and heady mixture which like everything else she tried not to overanalyze.

"Bellamy?" Curiosity and confusion pulled her up and forced his name from her trembling mouth. Her gaze snapped to his as her blonde hair fell in waves around them; blue eyes bled into richest brown and the air turned into a vacuum between them.

Clarke couldn't remember what breathing felt like. Her lungs burned as brightly as every inch of her body that was pressed against Bellamy's. The very concept of inhalation was lost on her. How could she remember to breathe when those infinite brown eyes gazed back at her. There was so much they held. Too much for her to decipher. Too much for her to understand. But she could feel their intensity. She could feel the razor-sharp focus of his gaze as it settled on her face. What did he see there? The freckle above to her left eye? The scar underneath her chin? Did he see the imperfection? Clarke didn't think so. His eyes glowed in a visceral way that she felt all the way down to her toes.

"Clarke?" Her name fell strangled from his mouth and the sound of it sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes searched hers desperately, like instinct called a man to search for water in the desert. But what was Bellamy looking for? What did he hope to find? Clarke just stared back, her gaze as open and unwavering as his was determined. There was only one thought which flitted through the otherwise blank canvas of her mind. Would he kiss her? She felt every cell in her body ache for it and the sudden urgency of her desire shocked her. Would his lips feel as soft as they looked? Or taste the way she imagined?

Her lungs flooded with sweet air as she inhaled sharply, his hands moving up to hover near her face, but before he could make contact a sound startled Clarke from her sweet revery. The soft shuffling of padded paws tore the Slytherin's gaze from the boy beneath her and back into the clearing. A small red fox poked its nose out from the cave's mouth beneath the Blackthorn tree. The creature paused for a moment as if listening and then scurried off into the forest.

"Did you…?" Clarke breathed looking back at Bellamy.

"Yeah," he muttered, eyes fixed on where the animal had been rather than looking at her. Clarke suddenly became aware of how uncomfortable he appeared. His jaw was tight and the hands that had been so close were now fisted as far from her as he could manage. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else in that moment. And when his eyes finally came back, they were widened and panicked, like he had just realized how compromising their position was.

Oh god, Clarke thought in mortification as embarrassment and guilt flooded her in swift succession. She was laying on top of him, basically trapping the poor boy beneath her. Bellamy was too nice to simply shove her off, but his expression was so strained that Clarke wondered if the thought hadn't entered his mind. The hands which she thought might hold her were probably intended to shift her off and away… away from him. Oh god. Her cheeks felt like flames as she realized how easily she'd lost a grip on her wild imagination. How could she be so stupid?

"Sorry," she gasped and scrambled off of him as quickly as her trembling limbs would carry her, wincing as another explosive breath left Bellamy when her knee jabbed him. "Sorry! I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Clarke," his voice was soft, raspy. She heard him shuffle to stand, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead she focused on the fallen wand and stooped to pick it up, brushing off the bits of dirt that clung to it.

"Here," she held the instrument out in his direction, but kept her gaze directed towards the center of the clearing.

"Clarke," his fingers brushed against her as he took back his proffered wand. She recoiled her hands into her side and tried to swallow the guilt forcing its way out of her throat. No use.

"I'm really sorry."

"You didn't do anything, Griffin. It was my spell."

Clarke felt her stomach drop. Griffin. He usually only called her by her surname when he was joking, but there was no humor in his voice. She finally dragged her gaze back to him and felt the weight of his expression hit her like a physical blow. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out even though the regret was clearly painted on his face. His jaw jogged as if searching for the right words.

"It's fine, please," Clarke blurted out quickly. "You don't need to say anything. Let's just forget about it. Okay?"

She was only trying to save him from the boiling embarrassment she felt, save him from having to explain that they were just friends. He wasn't really the boyfriend type. Clarke knew that. She had noticed him with the other girls in school. A different one following him around every week. She knew he wasn't interested in her, but honestly she felt more hurt from the shock of realizing that she was. Interested. He interested her. When had that happened? God, how mortifying. So she tried to save them the awkwardness, but Bellamy's expression just darkened and he nodded sharply.

"Let's practice again next Sunday, yeah?" Clarke asked, aiming for a light tone, but the words came out forced and tight. "Uh, I forgot that I have— have something else to do. Do you mind? I'll just— yeah… Well, later then."

Bellamy watched in horror as Clarke turned and marched away into the forest, back towards the castle. There was a hole in his chest that only seemed to expand with each step that pulled her further away from him. His body was flashing hot and cold and he felt sweaty and sick, his mind shredded beyond recognition. He was still uncomfortably aroused from the nearness of Clarke, but now that small pleasure was tainted by the exquisite pain pounding in his chest. He felt like he was dying. There was something not right inside of him. He wasn't sure what he wanted more in that moment, to cry or relieve his painful erection, and the mixture of emotions made him feel small and shameful.

They had been so close to… something. Clarke had been right there in his arms and then everything just shattered. He'd tried to reign in the intensity of his emotions. Bellamy hadn't wanted to frighten her; he was already scared enough for the both of them. That foraging animal had provided the perfect opportunity, perfect distraction for him to get a hold of himself. To try to stop his body from responding to her nearness, but despite his effort that monster wouldn't be subdued and when he'd looked back, his nightmare had come true. He'd watched as realization, then mortification, then thinly veiled disgust had all swept over her fine features.

Bellamy didn't blame her, but it had hurt like a knife to the gut when she'd all but flown off of him, repulsed. She couldn't even look at him afterwards. And that had brought a mixture of relief and shame in equal measure. Then she'd apologized and the shame had won.

A derisive laugh ripped from Bellamy's chest and his eyes stung hotly. God, he had fucked up royally. All the progress that they had made lay in a smoking heap at his feet. She probably wouldn't even want to be friends with him now and the horror in her eyes would become solid, a scar in his mind.

With a defeated sigh, the Gryffindor pushed his feet into motion and began the slow trek back to campus, only realizing when he'd left the forest behind that he had two wands in his possession; Clarke's was still clutched tightly in his right hand. As if it had become a permanent fixture, an extension of himself — much like its owner.

As the day carried on, Bellamy found himself examining the instrument. Staring at its dark ebony wood, the delicate carvings that ran up either side, and the smoothed, worn grip that was slightly discolored from use. He waited, hoping that Clarke would seek him out, reclaim what was rightfully hers, but when he still possessed the wand at the end of the day he admitted that she didn't want to see him. So Bellamy entrusted the task of courier to his best friend after Lexa assured him that she was already headed to the Slytherin Common Room. It was no trouble.

For her own part, Lexa didn't like the quiet moodiness that had descended over Bellamy since they had parted ways this morning. She decided quickly to not ask questions, especially after he nearly snapped her head off at the first innocent one she posed. It didn't take any stretch of the imagination for Lexa to realize that his depression had to do with a certain blonde Slytherin. It wasn't her business, but still she felt irritation rise within her as she made her way down towards the dungeons. She had a few choice words for Clarke Griffin.

The sconces along the pale stone walls flared brighter as the Gryffindor moved further into the bowels of the castle, twisting and turning down, down, down. Lexa knew exactly what she would say, the snarl she would put in her voice as she warned the Slytherin to watch herself, that her family was not to be messed with. She would walk into their common room, demand to speak with Clarke Griffin. Maybe she would publicly shame her so the girl would know Lexa was serious. But as she rounded the corner, all the calculated words flew from Lexa's mind; the very same blonde stood outside the entrance to the common room, hesitating as if she couldn't decide whether or not to enter.

Lexa froze in her tracts, heart clenching at the sight before her. The girl was using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe her eyes, chest heaving. Lexa watched as the blonde shook her head and inhaled a shaky breath. Shit. It looked like Bellamy wasn't the only one affected by whatever had transpired earlier. Lexa steeled herself and pushed forward despite how muddled the situation now appeared. She had come down here for a reason. She had a job.

The Slytherin whirled around at the sound of Lexa's approach and her startled expression turned quickly to trepidation as the blonde took in the Gryffindor before her. Lexa tried to rouse her earlier irritation and reclaim the perfectly formed rebuff, but her gaze caught on the red which rimmed the watery blue eyes that stared defiantly back at her.

"Can I help you?"

Lexa arched her eyebrows at the blonde's acerbic tone and instead of answering she simply flipped the wand in her hand and offered the hilt to the Slytherin.

"Oh," Clarke Griffin swallowed visibly and for a moment Lexa was worried she would cry, but with a deep breath the moment passed. "Thanks."

Again Lexa tried to find the harsh words she had crafted earlier, but all that came out was "Bellamy is pretty upset." The words sounded less like an accusation than she meant them to. She was failing at this.

"I know."

"Oh, okay." Lexa gritted her teeth, annoyance finally seeping back in at the Slytherin's dull tone. "He cares about you."

The blonde nodded, but she didn't really seem like she was listening to Lexa. "He's been a good friend."

Lexa's eyebrows rose further. So that was it. Bellamy had been friendzoned. If Clarke's distress was any indication, he had not reacted very well. Lexa sighed and shook her head. Hetero relationships confused the fuck out of her. It was like 'assume its romantic unless you're told it's not' where as in Lexa's experience the rule was really 'assume you're friends unless there is an explicit desire for more.'

"I'm sure he'll be fine soon," the Gryffindor offered, not sure why she was suddenly trying to do damage control. She'd been ready to slay for him moments ago. Now this.

Griffin nodded tightly, "Thanks again. For the wand… and for the other day. When you… you know?" the blonde pointed toward her head.

"Oh yeah," Lexa shrugged, her hands digging into the pockets of her trousers. She remembered their encounter in the hall all too vividly. Her heart had nearly stopped when she'd first spied Clarke on the floor. Even now, her stomach seemed to tie itself in knots at the memory of Costia's face staring back at her. But it hadn't been Costia's. Now that Lexa was looking at Clarke Griffin more closely she realized that the two looked nothing alike. Not really. Sure they were both blonde and had light eyes, but that was where the resemblance stopped. Clarke's nose was more angular than the soft roundness of Costia's. The Slytherin's eyes wider and a darker, greener blue. Clarke's skin was a creamy even texture while Costia had had a smattering of freckles. No, they really didn't look alike at all.

Lexa cleared her throat as she realized how intently she'd been staring at the Slytherin. "You're welcome. It's not a big deal, really." The last part she added quickly, not sure if it was more to convince Clarke or herself.

"Well thanks anyways," the blonde smiled, then looked at Lexa expectantly, before adding. "Was that it?"

"What?"

"Did you need something else?"

"Oh, right!"

Lexa has been so consumed by finding Clarke that she'd all but forgotten her initial reason for coming down here. Guilt flashed bitter in her mouth, but retreated quickly. She was here for Anya.

"I'm actually heading in to see my girlfriend. Were you going in?"

Clarke's eyes widened comically then darted towards the door, "Uh, yeah— yeah, I was just…"

Lexa turned to the gargoyle as Clarke trailed off, finding the creature staring back at them. His pupil-less onyx eyes shifted between the two silently with a monstrous grin twisting its mouth.

"Skin of the snake," Clarke muttered the password to the magical beast embedded in stone.

Lexa watched and when the portal didn't respond immediately, she stepped forward with a snarl, "The lady said 'skin of the snake.'"

The low chuckle which the gargoyle let out grated against Lexa's nerves, but the door swung open all the same. She indicated for Clarke to enter and then followed closely behind the blonde. The dark passage gave way to the green-hued common room and Lexa had to halt quickly to keep from running into the Slytherin as Clarke turned back towards her.

"So Bellamy…?"

Lexa noted the vulnerable expression which swept across the blonde's normally icy face and sighed, "He'll be fine."

"Good. That's good."

Lexa watched as the blonde slowly walked away, giving a wide berth to the figure emerging from the stairwell to the girls' dorm. When the Gryffindor's eyes left Clarke, she saw that the new arrival was none other than Anya. Lexa's smile of greeting stalled as her girlfriend glanced back at the retreating blonde and stiffened. Her champagne eyes returned to Lexa's and whatever emotion lived there was shuttered off behind steel walls before the Gryffindor could name it.

"Did she say something to you?" Anya's arm crossed. She didn't move forward to greet Lexa, staying perched on the last step of the stairs.

The brunette's brows furrowed in confusion, "Who? Clarke?"

"Yes. Clarke."

"What? Why would she—"

"Nevermind," Anya shook her head angrily at herself. "Forget it."

"Okay," Lexa replied slowly, walking to stand in front of her girlfriend. The added height of the step put Anya a few inches above the Gryffindor. Her hands came to rest on Anya's hips, drawing the Slytherin down to her height. "Are you feeling better?"

"What?"

"I mean after last night."

"Oh," something like guilt flashed over her girlfriend's face as the Slytherin remembered the debacle of getting stuck in the greenhouse during the storm. "Yeah, I am. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have surprised you like that."

"You meant well," Lexa argued as she lead the two of them over to the leather couch near the fire. The warmth from the hearth kept the chill of the drafty dungeons at bay for the most part.

"I know, but that's no excuse." Anya sighed, lacing her fingers through Lexa's. The gesture sent warmth racing up the Gryffindor's arms. The golden light of the fire set Anya's skin ablaze and Lexa couldn't help but be struck by how beautiful her girlfriend was as she continued talking, "I just feel like we keep missing each other this week. And— and I feel like that's my fault. Actually, I know it is."

Lexa pressed her lips together. It really wasn't. And if Lexa wanted to make her big move, now was as good a time as any. She felt the nervousness bubble up inside of her, but with practiced ease she shoved it beneath the surface, focusing instead on the graceful slant of Anya's eyes as the girl struggled for words.

"I want you to know— I feel like I should tell you— but I don't know how— it's about me and—"

"So I've been thinking," Lexa plunged in, not really meaning to cut Anya off, but knowing that if she waited too long, the courage would leave her. Lexa was a brave person. No one would call her a coward, but she had never done this before and the newness of it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

"I've been thinking," she repeated as Anya's eyes widened to glowing golden orbs. "About all the things I love about you. About how warm you can be, how caring…even if I'm the only one who knows that side of you, I love it… I love that it is part of you. And I've been thinking about your unwavering determination to be yourself. So many people in Slytherin, at Hogwarts really, have shit families… but you don't. You're proud of your parents and your home and I love that about you. So much."

"Lex—"

"Please let me finish or I might throw up," Lexa begged quietly, closing her eyes and squeezing the fingers that were still laced with her own. "I love how honest you are. That you never hide from the truth. That's actually very Gryffindor of you, but don't kill me for saying it." There was a strangled noise that Lexa attributed to the indignation at being called anything but a Slytherin, but she couldn't be sure because her eyes were still glued shut. "And I love the smell of your hair and the way you get this little furrow in you brow when you're angry and the fact that you hate the taste of coffee, but never complain when I drink it." Lexa opened her eyes and stared at where their hands joined, her heart beating out of her throat. "And as I was thinking of all the things I love about you, that's when it hit me… I love you."

Lexa finally glanced back up to meet Anya's eyes and said it again, "I just love you… so there's that. What I've been thinking."

Anya stared back at her, eyes wide and face twisted in what Lexa supposed was shock. Her golden eyes welled with tears as she shook her head softly in disbelief. "Oh my god, Lexa… you can't." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"What? What do you mean I can't? I love you." Irritation rose swiftly as Anya sobbed once than clamped a hand over her mouth. This was not how she expected this to go.

"Lexa—"

"I love you," the Gryffindor said again firmly. She'd spent most of the day convincing herself to say this and in all of the scenarios Lexa had imagined, she'd never had to convince Anya to believe it. "I can't just take it back."

Lexa thought Anya was going to protest again, but instead the older girl leaned forward and captured the brunette's lips with her own. She kissed Lexa with such force that the Gryffindor almost yelped at the pressure, but she relented before it became painful, instead pressing soft kisses to the corners of Lexa's mouth. So Lexa sighed against Anya's lips as her confusion melted away with the ardor of the other girl's attention.

"I love you too," Anya whispered against her mouth as if it was a secret.

"I should hope so," Lexa murmured indignantly and pulled Anya in again, rising up to cradle her girlfriend's face between her two palms and kissing the Slytherin's open mouth. Later, when Lexa remembered to ask what Anya had been trying to tell her before the Gryffindor had interrupted, her girlfriend assured her that it wasn't anything important. And though she tried to believe Anya, Lexa couldn't help but feel that there was more to the story.

Many floors above, Octavia finally tracked her brother to the back of the library where he had hidden himself in the Herbology section. The table was tucked away on the lower level, past the circulation desk from where Madam Tsing observed the students and behind a few rows of stacks. And although Octavia found the table strewn with an array of books and parchments, her brother's only interest seemed to be the small window on the far side of the nook through which sunlight could be seen fading from the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

"Bell?"

He started at her voice, head whipping around so fast that Octavia thought she heard something crack. Bellamy raised a large hand to rub the back of his abused neck and glance at her in abject resignation.

"What do you want, O?"

"Good to see you too, big brother."

He glared at her, "My mistake. I thought you were still avoiding me seeing as you ran away so quickly this morning."

Octavia rolled her eyes at his waspish response and pulled out the chair next to him so she could take a seat. This was already going worse than she hoped. Maybe if she just said what she came to say fast enough she could book it out of the library before her words hit home. No, Octavia sighed, resigning herself to her task. She wasn't a coward. That wasn't her. I am not afraid.

"Yeah, I guess I have been avoiding you. Sorry about that," Octavia admitted, then added at the look of surprise he shot her. "I do know how to apologize."

"Could have fooled me."

"Seriously, Bell? Can you restrain your attitude for like five seconds so we can have a conversation?" Octavia glowered at him.

"You're one to ta—"

"Okay fine," Octavia plowed on, bracing herself. "If you're going to be nasty and mean before I've even said anything than I'll just get on with it."

"Please."

"Fine," she gritted her teeth. He wasn't even looking at her. Just staring out of that stupid window. "I'm seeing someone. It's serious and I thought you should know. That's it."

Bellamy snorted and then the offensive sound turned into a chuckle, then into a full blown laugh. Octavia stared at him, incensed, and felt her cheeks heat as his laughter continued.

"Thanks, O. That was a good one. I needed that."

"I'm not joking, you dick."

The mirth fell from Bellamy's face like a lodestone through water. His eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

"I. Am. Seeing. Someone."

"Who?"

"None of your business."

"It is my business if someone thinks they can fool around with my little sister. Guys are pigs, Octavia."

"You would know," she snapped aggressively. Bellamy's face reeled as if she'd slapped him.

"Screw you, O."

"God, you're such an asshole."

Bellamy laughed sharply and carded a hand through his thick hair without looking at her, "You think after everything I've done for you, you'd be a little grateful."

"I would if you stopped holding it over my head!"

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"It's not, Bell! You try to control everything I do and everyone I hang out with. Do you have any idea how suffocated I feel? With your constant pressuring and with you running people off? I didn't even want to tell you, but Lin— but the guy I'm seeing insisted that I be honest."

"So now you're letting him tell you what to do? Octavia, this is what I'm trying to prevent!"

"So it's okay for you to tell me what to do, but no one else? And when do I ever listen to you anyways!" Her voice rose, booming without care of who might be listening.

"I just—" Bellamy pulled at his hair, his eyes wild as he stared at her. "I just don't want you to let anyone take advantage of you. I can't— I couldn't— It would—"

Octavia watched him struggle for words, bile rising in her throat. Her voice was quiet, but hard when she finally said, "I'm not mom, Bell."

"No, you're all I have, Octavia! And if I have to chase every single person away to keep you safe, I will. I have to. You don't understand—"

"Don't you hear yourself?!" Octavia cried out. She stood up suddenly, knocking her chair over as she spat at him in fury, "Making my life miserable won't make you feel better, Bellamy. You can't make up for letting mom die by keeping me in a cage!"

The words were out before she could take them back and the look of pained disbelief on Bellamy's face threatened to fracture her soul, but she wouldn't let it. She was too far gone already.

"You really think I let mom die?"

No, her mind roared. But her mouth refused to let the word escape. Whenever Octavia was this angry, her darkest thoughts slipped out; a need to lash out would consume her, to hurt just as she was hurting. Thoughts and words rose to the surface, ones that should never be uttered except in the shadow of her own mind; they slithered against fissures, weaknesses inside of her, until they could worm their way out and become real.

"Mom is dead because of you," she hissed, vibrating with anger, "And punishing me won't bring her back."

Bellamy's jaw went slack and his eyes stared blankly back at her. It was enough. She knew it was enough, but that demon inside of her was not satisfied, still blood thirsty, hurting, and as Octavia turned to go, she couldn't help but breath out one last, dark truth.

"You're so worried about me being like mom, but I'm not the one with blind loyalty. I'm not the one who lets people walk over me, use me, and throw me away."

Octavia turned and left before she could witness how the weight of her words put distance between them. Her heart felt disgusting, shriveled, and shoved to the corner inside her ribcage. But it was like her mind had flipped a switch and she could no longer feel those emotions. Deep inside, some small version of Octavia was screaming, begging her to go back, to make things right. But her mind was a blank, mirror-like surface. There was nothing else. She was nothing else. She didn't even register the stern reprimand of Madam Tsing as the librarian rounded the corner to find which students had been shouting. Octavia didn't notice the stares which followed her as she moved through the open study area. She didn't hear the call of her best friend from across the room as she exited that dusty, horrible place. She didn't hear anything. She just kept walking, not sure if she would ever stop.

Raven's eyes tracked her friend across the room. She was halfway out of her seat intent on following the younger girl when the door swung shut with a clang behind Octavia. Raven hesitated; it would be best to let the Gryffindor cool off first. Raven knew how useless talking to an enraged Blake could be. So she determined to find Octavia after she finished her Potions essay. Besides, the library would be closing soon and Raven didn't really feel like studying in the common room. Not after this morning.

With a sigh Raven turned back to the parchment in front of her. She scanned the last three sentences to jog her memory, but her inspiration had dried up and her mind felt preoccupied with a thousand other things besides the proper methods of brewing Fengold's Liquid Invisibility. And when the sconces began to dim and many of the students started their retreat, Raven's fountain pen still hung, suspended above the page. She threw the offensive instrument down and tilted her head back with a frustrated expletive.

"That bad huh?"

Raven stiffened as Jasper settled into the seat next to her. The lanky Ravenclaw sat down sideways so he was facing her and tucked his arms into his side.

"So you're talking to me again?" she asked and twisted to look him, not even bothering to pretend to give any attention to the half-finished essay on the desk.

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, Raven," Jasper scoffed. "We fought this morning."

"Well lunch felt pretty damn long with you not talking to me."

"Sorry," Jasper grimaced. "I had to… gather my thoughts. It takes time for me to know what to say. Jokes? No problem. But some of us have a hard time expressing how we feel."

"So what? You needed to strategize exactly how to slut shame me again?" Raven asked caustically. Earlier, she had been ready to brush the whole incident under the rug. Raven understood why he had been worried. She did. But then Jasper had acted like a little bitch, giving her the cold shoulder as if he had done nothing wrong. And she wasn't just going to bend over and take it. She was Raven 'God Damn' Reyes after all.

Jasper rubbed a hand over his face as his cheeks reddened, "I am sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have made you feel bad for… for…"

Raven rolled her eyes, "For having sex?"

Jasper's face pinched, "You had sex with Roan?"

"It may come as a surprise to you, Jasper Jordan, but I've had lots of sex in my admittedly short life and I don't appreciate being made to feel bad about it. I like sex. I love sex. And that doesn't make me a slut. And it doesn't give you the right to question me. Or make that face. Seriously, stop making that face."

"Sorry, sorry." Jasper put his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you feel bad, Raven. I was a dick earlier… but I was really worried. Maybe I shouldn't have been, but I was."

"I know," Raven murmured softly.

"It would just— It would kill me if something happened to you. I've thought a lot about why I got so upset this morning and it made me realize that maybe I… maybe I might…" he paused, swallowing, and stared at her as if that alone would magically finish his sentence.

"What? You might what?" Raven prompted, trying to not sound too irritated.

"It's just that we know each other so well. We've been friends for so long and— and now I…" Again he trailed off.

"I really don't know where you're going with this, Jasper," Raven admitted and fidgeted as he continued to stare at her, feeling slightly under inspection.

"Okay," he nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay, here it is. Raven Reyes—"

"Is the most gorgeous dork in the whole castle," Roan deep voice cut through the two Ravenclaws as the Gryffindor appeared out of nowhere. He sidled up behind Raven and leaned over to give her a quick peck on the mouth. She raised her eyebrows at him, slightly taken aback by the public display of affection. But Roan simply smiled back so she returned the gesture, trying to ignore the weight of Jasper's eyes on her.

"You ready?" Roan asked, glancing briefly past her to where Jasper still sat.

"Uh…yeah, just give me a minute," Raven told him and breathed a sigh of relief when the Gryffindor took a few steps back and began a conversation with someone at a nearby table. One of his Gryffindor cronies no doubt. Raven turned to Jasper. His expression appeared unchanged except for his lips which had pinched shut into a thin, white line. "What did you want to tell me?"

Jasper just shook his head, giving her a wave, "S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"So we're cool then?"

"Super cool."

"Okay," Raven said slowly, still trying to decipher his expression. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, just…go have fun," Jasper grimaced even as he said the words. "Seriously."

Raven snorted at his attempt to appease her and began to gather her supplies. She tugged her canvas bag over her shoulder and gave Jasper a playful punch before turning to leave. Roan slipped his hand into hers as they made their way out of the library and Raven felt his comforting warmth envelope her skin. She smiled at him and decided not to look back to see if Jasper was still at the table, watching them leave. She decided she didn't want to know.

So Raven didn't see that her friend was the last one in the library. Or that the lamps went black despite his presence. Or hear the muttered 'really?' that rang out through the hollow hall of tomes, the only sound from the boy who sat alone in the darkness.

A/N: Thoughts? Reactions? Leave a review! They give me life and make me smile. Special thanks those of you who have left reviews on multiple chapters, especially hundredsclan and Pink_mist. You guys rock!

This is a whopper of a story and to be honest I'm getting to the end of what I've 'pre-written.' I'm a bit daunted by the scope of what I've created so it means a lot to know you are interested in what comes next! Xx