Chapter 5:

"I can't honestly understand how we're expected to remember all that...it's ludicrous!" Clara exclaimed, dropping her book bag on the floor and sitting down in a chair by the fireplace. The Gryffindor common room was filled with students, many with the same complaint as Clara.

"Tell me about it," Ron moaned, "I've got so much homework it feels like we've been here a week already. Has the first day always been this bad?" Harry rubbed his eyes vigorously in response and slouched into another chair. Ron dropped to the floor and eyed his bag maliciously. Hermione alone was cheerful.

"It isn't so bad. I mean, yes, it's quite a lot to do, but it's not all very difficult, is it? Most of it's just review of what we've done in previous years, that's all. As seventh years, we ought to be able to handle it," she finished, pulling a giant book from her own bag and beginning to read. Clara stared at her for a moment, then looked at Harry and Ron. Is she always like that? she mouthed. They both nodded wearily. Clara shook her head and reached for some of her homework.

Two hours later, the four had relocated to a table, which was now strewn with parchment, quills, books, and inkwells. "Well, at least I've finished Transfiguration," Clara said, yawning widely. She rolled up her parchment and shoved several books back into her bag.

"Hang on - you understood all that?" Ron asked incredulously. Clara nodded. He stared in disbelief at his unfinished assignment. A smudge of ink on his nose gave him the look of someone who was slightly deranged. Next to him, Harry threw down his quill.

"I'm with Ron, this might as well have been written in a foreign language." He stretched luxuriously and ruffled his hair. Hermione exchanged a glance with Clara. She pulled Harry's parchment toward her.

"Ron," she said casually, flipping open Harry's book, "maybe if you ask nicely, Clara will try to explain it to you. Harry, I don't know what you've done here...look, most of what you need is on this page."

Harry and Hermione set to work. Ron and Clara sat in silence.

"Erm..." said Ron, "D'you mind?" He looked at Clara rather sheepishly, and she fought very hard not to laugh. She pulled Ron's homework toward her, allowing herself a small, satisfied smile. Flipping through the book, she explained where Ron had gotten mixed up. He had just set about fixing things when Adrian entered the common room. Clara looked at Ron, but her curiosity overwhelmed her.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Ron looked up at her, then at Adrian, and gave a non-commital shrug. Taking that as permission, Clara got up and approached Adrian, who was making his way toward the dormitory stairs.

"Evening, Michaels," she said, reviving the use of his surname, which the two had been accustomed to at Eaglethorne.

"All right, Edwards?" he replied, failing to hide a smile.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked, indicating the portrait hole. He looked toward the stairs, but seemed to decide that he had a few minutes to spare.

The two walked down the corridor outside in silence for a few minutes. "Are we doing something here or did you just have a sudden desire to begin a healthy lifestyle?" Adrian finally asked, not bothering to disguise the laughter in his voice. Clara punched him in the arm and laughed.

"That will be enough of your sass, thank you," she said. "I just wanted to chat, that's all. We may have been rivals, but we were never arch nemeses, and I don't see why we can't be friends now. You're the only familiar face I've got here." Adrian considered this, then nodded to show that he thought she made a valid point.

"Who's that boy I saw you holding hands with this morning?" Clara asked, allowing the nod to serve as his agreement to participate in a conversation. Adrian slowed here and surveyed her carefully.

"Well," he said, "his name is Dean Thomas. Since you noticed the hand-holding, thanks, no doubt, to your Sherlock Holmes-style attention to detail, am I right to assume I don't need to explain the nature of our relationship?" He smiled at her, apparently pleased with himself for taking advantage of another opportunity to tease Clara.

"For goodness' sake, Michaels, I'm not stupid," she replied "but very clever all the same. No, I think I've got a handle on what kind of relationship it is. Is it public?"

"Well we don't feel the need to flaunt it. Even the small display of affection you saw is rare...not that we're never affectionate, we just don't believe in PDA's." Clara nodded, but said nothing.

"May I ask what is going on between you and...oh what's his name...the Weasley boy-"

"-Ron?"

Adrian looked smug. Clara blushed, then smiled sheepishly at him. "I won't bother lying about it. He's cute."

"If memory serves me right, you've always been partial to the ginger crowd," he pointed out. "Don't you remember Jordan from Eaglethorne?" Clara stopped dead.

"You knew about that?!" she asked, panicked.

"Edwards, everyone knew about that. Even he knew about that. Well, I think he did anyway...not the brightest crayon in the box, that one," Adrian said thoughtfully. Clara groaned and began walking again.

"That's embarrassing...I thought nobody knew," she whispered. Adrian looked shocked.

"How could have possibly thought that? You're completely transparent when it comes to romance. You realize I've seen you for a total of ten minutes since you arrived and I've already picked up on your interest in Weasley?" He saw the look of horror on her face and continued, "Well don't worry, I'm sure he hasn't got a clue. It must be a redhead thing...or a straight boy thing."

The two continued walking, discussing things that had come to pass since last they met. Adrian talked about living with his grandmother in London. Clara explained her father's transfer back to England and life in Ottery St. Catchpole. They arrived back at the portrait about half an hour after they'd left and went inside.

Clara found Harry, Ron, and Hermione still hard at work at the table in the corner. She bid Adrian good night sat down with them. They passed the next hour in near silence, only asking questions related to homework. Finally, around eleven, they gave up for the evening. Clara and Hermione said good night to the boys and went up to bed.

The girls' dormitory was empty when Clara and Hermione entered. They went to their respective beds and began to pull on pajamas.

"Clara," Hermione began tentatively, "can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," replied Clara, turning her covers down. Hermione looked confused.

"I beg your pardon?"

Clara glanced at her, and then realized when she'd said.

"Oh I'm sorry, people probably don't say that here," she said, smacking her forehead, "Yeah, you can ask me a question." Hermione smiled and then cleared her throat.

"Well it's just...I couldn't help but notice the way you look at Ron...and I just wondered whether...you know...I mean if I'm wrong, obviously, feel free to correct me, I just...well you...you light up a bit when he's around, you know..." she finished lamely. She looked at Clara, hoping that she'd understood the implied question. Clara blushed and looked down at her hands as she smoothed back her quilt.

"I, uh...well he's...um..." Clara sighed heavily and sat on her bed. "Yeah...he's...he's really nice...and funny...and good-looking..." she said quietly. She looked up at Hermione who, she was slightly surprised to see, was grinning widely.

"Clara, that's just darling," she said. She went over to Clara and sat down next to her. "And do you know," she continued excitedly, "I think he likes you."

"Oh no, he couldn't," Clara said, blushing once more. Hermione just smiled knowingly and walked back to her bed.

"Time will tell...good night, Clara."

"Good night, Hermione."