lighthouses. [magnolia]

early october 2003

Ever since the train ride, Isaac found it hard to think about anything but the conversation he'd had with her. It's not because he particularly cared about what she said, he told himself, but rather what she hadn't. Magnolia had refused to promise that she would keep what she knew a secret. She was stubborn, and it was frustrating, and it made him nervous in a way he particularly hated. Isaac was used to getting his way, by charm or by force, and she was nothing more than a nuisance; he told himself that too.

The truth of the matter was the things that she said, and the fact that she hadn't betrayed his... was it trust? yet, had gotten under his skin. It wasn't that desperate of a secret, but the fact that it was hanging over him made it a bigger deal than it should have been. The fact that someone, especially her, had some upper hand drove him insane. He lacked the control he so desperately needed, and it made him feel unhinged.

Most of the day, he could put it out of his mind, pretending to listen in class, feigning interest in whatever nonsense his buddies were up to, but it only lasted as long as she was out of sight. And that only lasted until the last class of the day, Muggle Studies. He barely paid attention to what was going on around them, his mind going over what she'd said, again and again, his frown deepening.

Isaac hadn't noticed he was staring at her until he realized she was looking back. Giving him one of her indignant little looks that left him with more questions than answers. A look that annoyed him to next week and back. He gave her a scowl and turned back to his book, pretending like it had been her starring all along.

@Magnolia Lane Hawkins

Magnolia squinted at the board, trying to make out the notes that the Professor had written down before she wrote them down onto her own piece of parchment. The young witch normally did not sit so far in the class but had arrived a little late and had just managed to slip into the only empty seat when the lecture had started. Her resolutions were starting to falter, especially the procrastinating one, but Magnolia had forced herself to stay awake long enough to finish the reading and now she was tired. If she was lucky, she would make it through class awake and take a short nap in the afternoon before homework. Magnolia had a plan and as long as she stuck to it, nothing would go wrong.

If only her desire for success was a strong as her tendency to distraction, the witch might have had a chance. Of course, it wasn’t look into the lecture that her mind started to wander, her head resting onto the arm propped on the desk as she thought about random things. What she might like to eat for dinner, how many assignments she had to do that weekend, what sort of shenanigans she and her best frends could get into in Hogsmeade that weekend, the possibilities were endless when her goal was to not pay attention. She set her quill down, she’d had to ask someone for notes later.

As she looked around discreetly, trying to find a familiar crowd in her vicinity, her eyes were immediately drawn to him, Isaac Hackney, that stupid boy that had invaded her stupid daydreams without permission. It was just boredom, she decided, there was nothing remotely interested about the boy apart from the fact that he was easy to dislike. When she looked up at him again her eyes widened in suproise, a look of indignation on her face to cpver her sheer embarrassment. Magnolia frowned a little, sitting up before tearing off a piece of parchment as quietly as possible and taking her quill. Her eyes on the Professor as she wrote:

Stop staring at me, creep.

Folding it with expertise, into a complicated shape that resembled a pentagonal shape, she turned to him, waving momentarily before throwing it in his direction when the Professor turned his back to them.

Isaac knew he had been staring, but he didn't care; he still blamed her for it. His dark eyes scanned his book as if he was actually paying attention, but he wasn't. The teenager had already finished the notes, and his were far better than what the professor had outlined. Hyper aware now of where she was in the room, he noticed her moving out of his eyes' side, and he couldn't stop looking up to see what she was doing. Would she make a scene, would she do something irritating? He assumed she would, but she was a constant surprise. Turning to look up at her, he was confused as she waved a little piece of parchment around before chucking it at his head.

It nearly smacked the wizard sitting next to him, but Isaac caught it before the professor turned around and calmly settled into his seat. He waited for the professor to circle again before he would open it. There was a chance there was something written there he would not particularly enjoy having read aloud, should they be caught, so he was careful. The professor went on and on about, and Isaac felt anxious as he clutched the note in his hand. Waiting to read whatever she had written. It wouldn't be anything good, that much he had already assumed.

Finally, after what must have been at least five minutes, the professor turned back to the board to continue writing. Isaac peeled the note open, unfolding the ridiculously intricate parchment, and read the letter twice. His cheeks burned a little, creep, she had written, and something about that irritated him. Turning back to see her face, he gave her another scowl, harsher than before, and then began writing ago. He didn't bother to redo her folds but instead crumpled it into a messy ball to throw back. Waiting for the professor, and timing it just right, he threw it at her desk and watched her closely.

You first

Magnolia could not begin to describe how pleased she felt knowing that the angry expression on his face was meant for her, or better yet, the words she had written down on the piece of paper she had thrown in his direction. Now she knew for sure that he had been staring and there was nothing he could say to deny the fact. Good, she leaned back in her chair, a smug expression on her face as she returned to her notes, trying to write as quickly as she could to keep up with the several lines of notes the Professor had written on the board. She secretly hoped none of this would be on the next test because she couldn’t make much sense of it.

The witch returned her attention to Isaac soon after, that distraction being much more intriguing that the others she had been entertaining before. But her victory was short-lived, as she watch him crumple the note she had written in a ball and promptly thrown it on her desk. She stared at the pitiful piece of parchment in beffudlement, hesitating momentarily before reaching out to pick it up and unravel it when the Professor was not looking. She smoothed the edges of the parchment along the inside of her textbook, finding the wrinkles incredibly annoying and very symbolic of the disruptive way in which he had entered her thoughts.

She read the words once, then again for good measure. Who knew he had such beautiful handwriting? She frowned, mostly at herself, that was besides the point. Reaching for her quill, she dipped it into the ink furiously, not that it needed to be inked any more than it had been already, and wrote:

I wasn’t looking at you she began, making sure to underline the word “you” as she wrote, But I guess it’s hard to notice anything past your ginormous ego she added.

Taking the time to fold the note again, she tossed it in his direction when he the Professor turned towards the board again. 

Isaac tossed the note at her desk and leaned back in his chair idly, he was done pretending to pay attention to the professor, and his focus was entirely on her now. Brown eyes watched her as she opened the note, a smile forming when he saw how frustrated she was by the way he had crumpled it up to return. He leaned further back in his chair as the wizard next to him sat up straighter, blocking his view. Two legs off the ground, he was dangerously close to tipping over, but he didn't care. He had to see what she looked like when she read his note, and it had been worth the risk. The smug look on his face increased as she began writing him back; he could tell she was irritated. Not so much that she didn't take the time to fold it up neatly again, he noticed.

It came flying at him again, and this time it hit the floor before he could catch it. The wrinkled parchment made little noise, but Isaac made more as his chair's feet collided with the stone floor again. Hastily he reached for the note and shoved it into his pocket before the professor could turn around. While he waited, he wondered how much more annoyed she would be if he just left it there, sitting unread in his pocket. Would she say something? Would she go back to taking her notes and ignoring him? He weighed the situation carefully, considering it, but when the professor turned his back, his hand reached into his pocket before he even realized.

Unfolding the note again, he smiled. He dipped his quill into the ink and wrote in the space under her writing, admiring the contrast of their penmanship, and that her words began to slant the more irritable she became. I noticed your hair is different, he wrote, purely to make her uncomfortable and not because he particularly cared about her hair. She was wearing it differently than yesterday, but he didn't know if it was entirely new or just new to him. It wasn't like he stared at her every day. Crumpling the note back up, mostly because it was funny, but also because he would never be able to fold it as complexly as she had, he threw it underhandedly back at her and waited.

Magnolia pretended to look down at her notes when she heard the screeching of his chair hitting the floor, rolling her eyes and shaking her head to herself the same way she would have done at him if they were having a face to face conversation. At the moment, the witch was trying to avoid detention by pretending she knew nothing about it. After the coast was clear once again, her eyes drifted back to Isaac, temporarily annoyed that he had not been writing her back and in fact had not be looking at the note at all. It probably had something to do with the fact that the Professor was giving the students a death glare, he was likely well aware that one of the students were up to no good and he was in the process of figuring out who, and not at all that he wasn’t interested in what she wanted to say. Right?

She stared down at the incompletely written notes on her piece of parchment, with absolutely no intention of  doing anything more than to bide her time but only because she couldn’t continuously stare at him waiting for him to open the note. Well, technically, she could do that but then he’d get the wrong idea. But she was getting impatient, made further obvious by the way her knee began bouncing under the desk and the way her eyes found the clock in the far corner and studied it ever so often. When she glanced over and saw him finally writing what she assumed was a note back to her, she used her quill to trace spirals along the corners of her notes, pretending to be ignoring him all along. Ignoring the fact that she had almost immediately reached for his note when he tossed it back she complimented herself on a job well done.

But nothing could have prepared her for what he had actually said, her eyes reading over the line several times over after she had salvaged the crumpled corners along her textbook again before she made a sound (a rather loud one) of complete vexation. “Huh?” she said out loud, her cheeks reddening as the statement took all sorts of meanings in her head. She quickly closing her book over the note when she realized that some of her classmates started to look at her in confusion. “Sorry, sorry,” she called out nonchalantly, “I’ve got it!” she reassured the professor, tapping the feather of her quill against the parchment with her notes as if to pretend that she had made a connection she had been pondering all along. Well that was embarrassing, she figured. And she waited, a little longer because she didn’t know how to respond.

However, when she finally decided what she would say, she first pulled on the braid that rested over her shoulder and undid it, frowning at him as if to show how displeased she was with his comment. Then, when Professor was not looking in her direction, she wrote in return, Did you mean to say: Nola, you hair looks nice? Why thank you, she replied smirking a little to herself, she would not give him the upper hand here, Of course you’ve noticed, don’t think I haven’t caught you staring at me before, she added. Crumpling the note just as he had before, mostly because she was eager for a response, she tossed it at him again.

Isaac could see her fidgeting out of the corner of his eye while the note sat unread in his pocket. He could tell she was growing impatient, she had even less than he did, and it amused him. A smug grin pulled at the corner of his face causing dimples to pocket his cheeks, and he kept waiting. Her reaction made him want to wait even longer, just to annoy her the way she irritated him. Like it was some sort of a game. Eventually, he read the note, replied, and tossed it back to her, and he made sure to look at her when he did. To watch her reach for it quickly and then react. He chuckled when she did, the sound escaping her lips, making him laugh even though he hadn't meant to draw attention to himself. Shaking his head Isaac ran his hand through his hair while she not so smoothly recovered, pretending she'd been reacting to something else, and he fought back another laugh.

He was slouching in his seat again, long legs stretched out in front of him, and he pretended not to be paying more attention to her than the professor. Watching her, Isaac waited for her to reply and fold up the note again in that ridiculous way that she did. He hoped she would send it back and that they would banter a little longer. Muggle Studies was the most boring class, and she was making it a little less intolerable. Isaac noticed her pull the braid off of her shoulder, and he smiled again, knowing she was thinking about what he had written, which had been precisely what he wanted. Magnolia crumpled it this time, and he was surprised, but when she tossed it, he caught it again.

This time he opened it right away, his movements giving away how eager he was to read what she had replied. The professor was two minutes into what he was sure would become a monologue, so Isaac felt confident enough to open it right away. He got a look from the student next to him as he unwrinkled the page, giving him a 'mind your business' sort of scowl. He turned back to the note and scoffed at her words. Reaching for his quill, he wrote back quickly, but just as neatly as before. They'd run out of room on the page shortly, at this rate.

You flatter yourself. I said different, Nola, not better.

Smirking, he balled up the page again and tossed it back to her. It was a lie, he thought the braid was cute, but that was entirely beside the point. Insulting her was far more entertaining than being friendly, and for some reason, she just kept letting him. He wasn't sure what he should make of it, but it did keep him writing. He'd never been the sort to pass notes in class, but he also had never really found anyone worth exchanging messages with either.

Magnolia could not hide the expression of delight that found its way onto her face as soon as she realized that he had not only caught her note but had quickly unfolded it and read its contents. Naturally, the part of her that hoped she was not reading into their exchanges, had immediately assumed that he opened it quickly because he was eager to read what she had written. Not that she would ever share that with him; part of the charm here was that she interpreted the things he had as one thing but kept them to herself, her heart translating his actions into friendly little challenges rather than taking his often unkind words for face value. At least she wasn’t thinking about Roderick as much anymore, and that had to be welcomed changed.

She watched his expression closely, wondering if he had found her note cute or if he had been offended by it. Either way, he was writing her back already, so it didn’t really matter what he thought, at least he knew it warranted a response. As she waited, she continued to scribble into her notebook, writing out his name in small cursive lettering before she even realized it. When she noticed what she had done, she frowned, scribbling out the text furiously until the quill went through the parchment, bleeding onto the pieces of parchment underneath. Whatever.

The ball of paper hitting her on the shoulder distracted her from her thoughts, turning her attention to the piece of paper on the ground. Using her foot, she dragged it over to avoid suspicion from the professor, reaching under to pick it up. Flattening out the piece of parchment she read the words. Of course, he wasn’t going to be straightforward about this. And maybe she had flattered herself a little too quickly. Dipping her quill into the pot of ink onto her desk, she wrote right under his words.

Then I take it back. You’re the one who noticed, remember?   

She replied, but unsatisfied with her answer, she scribbled a line through it, though if one looked extra hard the words were still visible.

Okay~ she wrote instead, adding a heart at the end of her sentence for good measure. Crumpling the piece of paper again, she tossed it at him again when the Professor wasn’t looking, this time aiming at his head.

That ought to teach him a lesson. When she had tossed it back, she turned her attention again to class, pretending that her feelings were not in the least bit hurt as she started to braid her hair again.

His lazy throw made the crumpled ball of parchment fall on the floor, and silently he watched, an amused look on his face, wondering how much noise she was going to make collecting it. Isaac hadn't known much about Magnolia before these last few weeks, but he was quickly learning; she was a bit of a mess. Not in the worst way, but in that sort of way that she crashed through anything in orbit, and it was never dull. He turned to stare at her again, his eyes watching as Nola scraped the ball across the floor with her shoe, and he laughed silently. The teenage wizard continued to watch her as she began to write, and he could tell she'd scratched whatever it was out, something that amused him to no end, as he turned to slink back into his chair. Part of him thought she might toss the note and call it a day if she was scribbling things out, but the thunk against his head told him differently.

Instinctively his hand went up to rub the spot where the note had hit him, not that it had hurt, and he bent over in his seat to pick it up from the floor. Uncrumpling it, he realized every time he did, it was a little bit louder. The parchment becoming stressed and crinkled beyond its own strength. He looked over at her, seeing her eyes on the board again, and then back down at the note to read it. He could barely make out what she had blacked out, and he smirked, his eyes followed the black ink down to where she'd answered him shortly, and to the little heart, she'd drawn. It was cute, but he thought it was dumb.

Folding the note up neater than he had since the beginning of this little exchange Isaac stuffed it into the pocket of his uniform slacks and turned back to his textbook and notes. For a moment, he thought he'd leave it at that since it was sort of a natural close, but after two more minutes of the professor's lecture, he grew bored again. He already knew the subject matter, not that it was difficult to grasp or anything, and he was annoyed by the dullness. Pulling a new page from his own book, he wrote another note to her. Finishing it up, he folded it, it was uneven and misshapen, but it was better than the crumpled mess he'd been throwing at her before. Turning to the witch behind the wizard next to him, he gave her a dimpled grin, whispering, "Could you?" He said, showing her the note and pointing at Magnolia, whose desk was on the other side of hers, out of Isaac's reach, but not out of hers. The witch lit up at first but then realized the note wasn't for her and shrugged, but passed it along anyway.

You give up easily.

Magnolia leaned forward in her desk, feeling increasingly more restless as she wondered whether her words would mark the end of their little exchange or if he would feel the need to get in the last word. She secretly hoped it would be the latter, but only because she wanted to find a reason to continue talking to him without giving him any indication that it was what she intended to do. But then again, Magnolia had an exceedingly difficult time keeping her intentions a secret, as her feelings almost always found a way to show themselves on her face. When he stuffed the note into his pocket for example, she could not prevent the look of disappointment with which she responded. But she returned to her notes, anyway, realizing that the Professor was already erasing the set of notes that she had missed so there was no point. Her shoulders fell and she sank back into her chair, scribbling on the parchment aimlessly as she went on.

But it was not long before she was looking in his direction again, this time frowning when she realized that he was now exchanging notes with another witch. She frowned. Typical, she scolded herself for reading into things again. Magnolia could not tell who the girl was from this angle, but assuming from the expression on her face when he leaned over to give her the note, she was glad to be receiving it from him. Magnolia looked at the girl a little more intensely only to be startled when the girl turned to her, glanced at the professor, and extended her hand out to give her the folded note. Magnolia hesitated as she reached out for it, mouthing a brief Thanks before opening the piece of paper.

She suppressed a smile, but just barely. Taking her quill, she wrote back almost immediately.

You wrote back, didn't you? she wrote as if it had been her plan all along, Nola: 2, Isaac: 0

“Psst!” she made a noise to grab the girl’s attention again. The girl rolled her eyes but complied anyway, reaching out for the note before turning back to Isaac to give it back.

Isaac watched as she unfolded his note, completely ignoring the sighing sound coming from the witch behind him that he'd just employed. He thought he saw Nola almost smiling, and he tilted his head to the side, wondering what she was writing even though he'd find out soon enough. He was impatient in that way, but she seemed to be even more so. Magnolia asked the same witch to return the note to him, and Isaac knew they were wearing that route thin very quickly. The frown on the witch's face told him everything he had already assumed as she chucked the note at him. He caught it as it bounced against his chest and gave her a smirk instead of anything remotely apologetic. Turning to face the front of the classroom, he unfolded it and visibly, but silently, laughed at what the Gryffindor witch had written. She thought she was winning again, and something about that drove him crazy.

He waited until the professor was using his wand to scribble more incomprehensible bollocks on the board before quietly sliding out of his seat and grabbing his books. Hunched over, but not dramatically so, he walked to the half-empty table Magnolia was sitting at. He rounded the corner in a fluid motion, set down his books, and slid into the empty seat right next to her. Just in time for the professor to turn about and realize what he was doing. "Mr. Hackney?" He said, a suspicious eyebrow raised, but Isaac was calm in his response, that typical Slytherin coolness practically radiating off of him. "The view from here is better, Professor," he informed him, but the view of the blackboard wasn't what Isaac was referring to.

It seemed like the professor would let it go, as he returned to the blackboard, and Isaac turned to Nola. Making eye contact, he held the page up, pointing at the numbers she'd written, and shook his head. One dimple indented on his cheeks as Isaac half smiled at her and turned to etch his opinion on the page again, entirely aware of how close his chair was to hers. He scratched out the number she'd written and replaced them. He wrote an infinity symbol by his name and null by hers, and then slid it to her. In his mind, he was always winning.

Pleased with his reaction to her reply, Magnolia flipped through her textbook when she noticed that the other students were doing so, her eyes giving the words on the page a cursory glance as she attempted to find some keywords to help her understand what they were talking about. The witch had done some of the reading but apparently not closely enough because what she thought she had read about was completely different to what the Professor was talking about. She might have looked more into it had she not been distracted by her own thoughts on how he might reply to what she had said. Would he be the one giving up this time? Would he be writing her a note back insisting that she had it all wrong? At this rate, she probably would not be passing Muggle Studies.

She started to write his name into the corner of her parchment again, dotting the eye with a carefully drawn heart that she colored in with black ink. When the Professor said the very name she was thinking, however, she was filled with a little dread, wondering if he had caught on to what she was doing. But how could he? He was completely at the front of the room. When Magnolia finally realized what was happening and who was moving closer to her desk, she panicked, suddenly gathering her materials and tucking them closer to herself, folding down the piece of parchment in an effort to conceal the fact that she had written down his name on it.

Magnolia rolled her eyes at his comment, though a small part of her had been curious to know if he meant the view was better because he was closer to her. A girl could dream but she certainly would not ask. She looked down at the note and smirked. To avoid suspicion, she moved her chair closer to him, leaning over to write along the edge of the piece of paper.

You came all the way over here to write that? she gave him a look, arching an eyebrow as if daring him to answer her question.

As he slid into the desk, his tall, lean frame making minimal sound, Isaac noticed her hurrying to hide her parchment from him. He grinned, wondering if she was ashamed of her pitiful notes; he assumed they weren't perfect. He knew she was intelligent, Isaac could tell, but she was also incredibly distractable. If she was a good student, she wouldn't have wasted so much time passing notes with him, he expected. Moving to correct the message she had written for him, Isaac felt her pushing her chair closer to him before she started replying. He could smell that flowery scented shampoo again, fucking magnolias, he thought, and he grew still.

Careful not to knock her arm while she moved her quill across the page, he scoffed at her response, eager to write again, and satisfied with his choice to move over here. Neither one of them was patient enough for the slow process of passing notes across the class.

I came to sit next to you, but don't let it go to your head. He wrote, turning to look at her with an unimpressed scowl back on his face. He was mean again for no reason, but it was still Tuesday, and he was still Isaac Hackney, so what else could anyone expect. Returning to the page, his hand holding onto it now so she couldn't cut in and write something else first, he moved to the next line and wrote again. You were being distracting. Which was technically accurate, but the teenager wanted her to read further into it than he meant, and his new smile egged her on further.

Leaning back in his seat, his shoulder nearly brushing hers, Isaac waited for her to read and reply to what he had written. He watched her from where he sat, noticing the little bits of hair that had fallen out of her braid over the day, but finding the mess of it entirely faithful to what he knew about her personality. Magnolia was nothing if not chaotic, and he was drawn to it, even if he didn't realize it yet.

He told her not to let it go to her head, but it was too late. Magnolia’s common sense had gone out of the window ages ago, probably more accurately around the time he had approached her on the train in September but that was something better left to reflect on later in the middle of the night just as she was falling asleep. Just as she was able to pull the parchment closer to her side of the table to write on it, however, he continued to write. Magnolia leaned closer, rising from her seat just a little to see if she could catch a glimpse of what he was writing.

Her eyes widened just slightly when she finally caught sight of what he had written, causing her to fall back into her seat just as quickly, hoping that no one had noticed. What does it mean!? she asked herself, his statement on making a set of new questions pop into her head, the need for clarification struggling with her need to seem much more unaffected than she truly was. To the outsider, it might have seemed that Isaac spoke clearly, the boy had been rather straightforward since day one but to the young witch, everything he said had twists and turns that she could not quite understand. Almost as if he was hinting at something but not exactly saying it.

And to make things worse he gave her those little looks, that had to mean something. It was confusing her and not in an exciting way. But, Magnolia also knew that the moment she made a point about it, the spell would break and things would get awkward. It wasn’t like she liked him or anything, she decided wondering when that lie would no longer make things easier. Waiting for several minutes as the Professor approached the desks, she pretended to be highlighting something in her textbook. When the man went away, his back to the students, she moved over her scribble onto the paper. You’re obsessed, looking over at him he gave him a little wink. Bold for the Gryffindor girl but hopefully he’d take it as a sign of her making fun of him.

As he wrote, Isaac felt her shifting in her seat, moving to see more clearly, but he didn't move his hand until he had finished writing, making it as difficult as possible for her to get a glimpse prematurely. After he'd finished writing, he moved back, leaning in his chair while she leaned forward to read. Folding his arms across his chest Isaac watched her intently. The professor began to stroll about the classroom right when he wanted to her to reply to his note the most, and it made him frown, but he didn't move in his seat. If asked, Isaac felt confident he could answer any question the professor tried to trip him up with. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been screwing off in class. Nola, on the other hand, returned to pretending to pay attention, and that lightened his features slightly. She was an awful actress.

Finally, she began writing back to him. Leaning forward, he set his arm on the table, read the note, and then shook his head. Turning in his seat, his other arm moved to rest on the back of his chair, and he leaned in. Invading her space in precisely the way he knew she hated and began to whisper. "I have many obsessions," He confessed, and that was entirely true; he paused for a moment before returning to sitting forward in his seat. Both hands went to the desk and toward her stack of parchment.

"Have you taken any notes?" He asked, calling her out on the fact that he was pretty sure she'd written more to him than on the subject in the last forty minutes. "I'll bet they are dreadful," he continued to whisper, head turned toward her as he pulled at the pages, and he smirked.