A/N: Hello! Another keen whoufflepuff about to push their writing out towards the world. Little bit nervous about putting this up, so I hope you enjoy, and reviews always appreciated :) Please excuse any spelling errors, I'm pulling the it's-late-and-I'm-tired excuse for those today.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, I do not own Doctor Who.

Every Wednesday, she's there.

Always curled up on a beanbag in the corner, a Starbucks coffee in one hand and a book in the other, usually a classic of some sort (Pride and Prejudice seems to be her favourite), though the odd Amelia Williams appears every now and then. Sometimes she sits with a notepad and pencil, either writing or drawing something, he can't tell from behind the counter. But whatever she's doing, she's always there, arriving at about four and normally not leaving until around seven thirty.

The routine's always the same, in she comes, quick smile, picks out a book and sits on her beanbag, reads said book, gets up, another quick smile and off she goes. He's had many visitors in the four years he's owned his library, but none of them quite this consistent. He's hesitant to admit it, but he finds her quite interesting, often wondering what she's writing, or why she's reading a particular book, or whether her name is Clara, Lara, Claire or Cara, as her Starbucks cups frequently have written on them. But he never asks, content to sit behind his computer screen with a game of solitaire on the go, keeping an eye on her throughout the afternoon.

It's only when she crashes in one Wednesday afternoon, devoid of Starbucks, wielding an umbrella and looking slightly traumatised that he finally plucks up the courage to speak to her.

"Everything okay?"

She whips her head around, his voice making her jump. "Depends on your perspective. I'm not entirely convinced anybody's okay after battling English weather in November for an hour with nothing but an umbrella with a hole in it for protection, only to find their favourite coffee shop closed and losing a shoe twenty minutes later."

He smiled slightly, taking in her windswept appearance and lack of right shoe. "Radiator's on."

"Best two words I've heard all day."

Removing the remaining shoe, shaking out the umbrella outside and leaning against the blissfully warm and dry radiator for a few minutes, she dragged her beanbag over to it and settled down, removing her cardigan to let it dry. She opened her rucksack and peered inside it, rummaging around in slight desperation before letting out a small groan and flopping back against the radiator.

"Lost something?"

"Twenty-three GCSE science papers, apparently."

"Ah."

"Yep."

They fell in to a slightly uncomfortable silence, punctuated by the odd sigh from Lara/Clara/Claire/Cara (he still wasn't sure, not helped by the lack of named coffee cup).

"On that note, I need something about as distant from chemistry as you can get. Care to help out?" she asked from across the room, looking up at the shelves around her as if hoping a book would magically fly towards her.

"Harry Potter. Doesn't matter how old you are, still got to love a bit of Rowling."

"'Doesn't matter how old you are' - are you saying I look old?"

He'd taken a sip of tea by that point, which was a mistake as he almost spat it back out, worried he'd offended her. "No, no, not at all, you look young, really young, not old, opposite of old, honest-"

He was cut off by a chuckle coming from her direction. "Point taken," she said with a smile. "Right then, Chin Boy, do I go for Chamber of Secrets or Prisoner of Azkaban?"

"Prisoner of Azkaban, definit-wait, what's wrong with my chin?"

"Careful, dear. You'll take someone's eye out."

"Impossible. We're the only people in here and you're about twenty metres away."

"Well, aren't you mister clever then?"

He straightened his bowtie, looking rather smug. "Prisoner of Azkaban's over to your left, third shelf down."

By the time she'd fetched the book, he was hovering next to her beanbag with a second mug in his hand. She looked first at the cup and then at him, her tired brain failing to comprehend that yes, the mug was for her.

"You look freezing, this might help. No coffee, I'm afraid, just some hot chocolate."

"Right now it's possibly the most appealing substance on the planet. Thanks."

Taking the mug from him, she sat herself down as he returned to his desk. A hour of silence followed, her lost in the world of Hogwarts and him experimenting with various pieces of computer coding. The time passed surprisingly quickly, the silence broken by the sound of rain beginning to patter against the window. It sparked another soft groan from the direction of the radiator.

"More rain. Which I have to walk an hour in. With one shoe."

His immediate reaction is to offer her a lift, but he holds the thought back, wondering if it'd be taken the wrong way. After all, he still doesn't even know her name, he just knows her as the woman with the coffee cup who reads her way through his library every Wednesday. Though on the other hand, he couldn't exactly make her walk for so long with a single shoe remaining in this weather, especially when it'd be dark too, could he? No, he couldn't. She could get mugged. Or she could fall and get hurt. Or she could get lost.

Or, you know, she'd be perfectly fine since he assumed she normally walked home. But never mind.

"I could drop you off? My car's just outside."

"I feel like I should be rejecting this to be polite, but if it's between spending my evening out there or remaining dry by taking you up on that, I'm going with the latter, if you don't mind."

"Not in the slightest. Let me know when you're ready to go."

"Will do."

"So, where do you live?"

"In any other circumstances I'd be slightly worried by now."

He glanced over at her, sat delicately in the passenger seat of his blue Mini Cooper. "Well I can assure you I'm not planning any surprise attacks, if that helps at all."

"Always good to know. Turn left here."

He followed her command, turning into Coleman Avenue. "Which number?"

"27. Well, 27E, it's the block of flats on the left."

Pulling to a stop, he parked just outside the appropriate building, leaning forwards to put the heating up slightly as he did.

"Well, here we are, still in one piece."

She smiled, undoing her seatbelt and retrieving her rucksack from the back seat. "Thank you so much for this."

"Not a problem. See you next Wednesday, Miss...?"

"Oswald. Clara Oswald."

"See you next Wednesday, Miss Oswald."

"And you?"

"The Doctor. Just the Doctor."

"See you Wednesday then. Can you hold back Great Expectations? Been meaning to read it for a while now."

"Mental note made."

She smiled once more, before turning and making her way up the path. He watched until he saw a light flick on about halfway up the block, before starting up the engine and setting off in to the night, the words 'Great Expectations' swirling about in his mind as he went.