Everyday, everyday I have the blues (Isaac)

The common room was empty all but for Circe Sutcliffe sitting on one of the couches provided, drawing as she often did. She had been working on a floral snake tattoo concept to show to her friend, Tock, over Christmas break. She knew he was living in Paris, now, but she was hoping that Sid could convince the older boy to come to London to celebrate the holidays with them. And to do the tattoo for her, of course. She was already dying for another and he was so talented. She loved listening to him talk, particularly about politics and social justice work.

Circe's body tensed for a second when she'd heard someone else enter the common room. Mostly she stuck to herself, and particularly with regards to her housemates. The vast majority seemed to delight in her torment, though, at least this year, she had found herself with an unexpected advantage: she had been named Slytherin Prefect. It wasn't Head Girl, but it was something. Hopefully enough to get what bullies she had left to leave her be. Hopefully. The blood purists were the worst. Isaac was annoying, but nothing that she couldn't handle.

She looked up for a second and caught eyes with him, but quickly went back to her drawing. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd go away and leave her alone?

@Isaac Hackney

Isaac was irritable, but when wasn't he, when he got to the Common Room. Seeing that it was empty made him a little less aggravated, but only just. The Slytherin crossed the room to take a look at the bulletin board. Not because he particularly cared which students needed help with charms or what stupid first year had lost their cat already but because he needed to check the Quidditch try-outs roster. He had been debating just saying fuck the whole thing for the last week and a half. If the house teams were all filling up with second years, then he wasn't going to play. QUidditch was supposed to be cool and exclusive to the upperclassman; he hadn't made the team until the fourth year, which was how it should have been. Now though? Everything was jacked.

Spinning on his heel when he saw the newest names, a baby Hawkins specifically, the teenager cursed loudly. Whatever he had better things to do than play on the house team, it wasn't like he even cared about the pride or the team of it all. He just liked to smack shit with the bat. If only the staircases weren't so fussy, he'd skateboard instead, but it wasn't fun trying to grind down a railing only to find it fucking moving over a forty-foot chasm.

Turning from the board, Isaac's brown eyes landed on Circe Sutcliffe, and his mind corrected her name to the one Roderick and the others had chosen for her. Smiling sinisterly, he crossed the room to see what she was doing. Isaac waste no time before plucking the parchment from where she was working on it. It was a snake with some flowery shit weaving through it, and even though he didn't care for the floral stuff, it was pretty cool. Tilting his head as his eyes traced the lines, the perfect amounts of negative space, and how the shading was fading around the corners, he realized this was a tattoo design. And, of course, he was intrigued.

"Getting some ink, are we?" He teased, still holding the page for ransom, as he slunk into the sofa not far from where she was seated.

Circe hadn't been paying attention to how close Isaac had gotten to her, and emitted a startled, indignant noise when her sketch had been plucked from in front of her. Her eyes narrowed in his direction, nostrils flared. She was properly angry. "Give it back, Hackney."

She'd had enough. She was tired of being kicked around. He was two years younger than she was. Who did he think he was? "If you give it back, now, you little shit, then I'll forget all about the punishment that I could give you for bullying." Of course, she didn't think that Isaac was the type to be afraid of something like detention. He wasn't like her.

"None of your business." She snapped. "Give it back. Now."

Circe got to her feet and stood in front of him, holding her well-manicured right hand out expectantly. "Hand it over. I mean it."

If Isaac weren't already smirking, Circe's words would have put a right smug look on his face. He settled into the cushions of the deep green leather sofa and held tight to the page he had taken from her. He wasn't scared of her threats, the worst she could do was flex her Prefect powers, and he'd seen it all before. Besides, he was way too invested in whatever this design was just to give up that easily. Isaac was nothing if motivated.

"Oh, do not be like that," He mocked her, pouting his bottom lip as she got up out of her seat and came around to stand in front of him. "Really, it's pretty good," He said as he turned the page in his hand, it had all the right details, it was interesting to look at, but he wondered, did it mean something? In a typically Slytherin fashion, Isaac went into bargaining mode. He almost handed it back to her but pulled back at the last second, still grinning.

"I will give it back if you tell me what it means?"