[mp] there's a name for boys like you|| isaac

November 20th 2003

Okay.

So maybe Magnolia was not technically dying but she was indeed sick. The head cold, or whatever they were calling that awful feeling of something pounding against her skull, had arrived in a set of symptoms that had slowly made her increasingly lethargic over the course of the week. Accompanied soon after by a sore throat and a stuffy nose, the girl spent more time feeling sorry for herself than she had in managing the condition. Naturally, being a drama queen and enjoying the concern of others (even if it was short-lived) she was in no rush to visit the hospital wing. At least not until she realized that she was feeling a little warmer than usual.

Deciding that Muggle Studies was worth skipping because of how she was feeling (and the fact that she hadn’t really done the project due), she made the trek across the castle in search of some relief. It was close to the end of the week anyway. If she spent the weekend resting like she should have been doing all week, she would feel better in no time, just in time to turn in her project late the following week if the professor was willing to accept it. Though the nurse had insisted that her concoction would make the symptoms pass in no time, Magnolia had managed to make the woman take pity on her and let her lay her head down while she waited for class to pass. There was no point in showing up if she wasn’t ready for her presentation anyway and she did feel a little dizzy and warm to the touch.

Any other witch might have used the time she was hidden behind the divider, resting on the bed, to catch up on the project she was going to have to account for or better yet, to catch up on that much needed rest. But the Gryffindor knew that the key to a speedier recovery was a healthy mind, and as if fate would have it, her eyes immediately moved to the magazine that she always kept in her bag: the most recent issue of Witch Weekly. Wicked, she thought. Magnolia took off her loafers, rested her sacred Witch Weekly on the fluffy pillow, and laid down on her stomach, flipping through the pages absentmindedly while she waited for the time to pass. It sounded a little rowdy outside so Magnolia assumed that the sheer number of students would keep the nurse occupied for a while. 
 
Magnolia had gotten a few pages in when a noise within close proximity (not the nurse, the lady’s cute heels had been rather quiet), she froze. Hiding the magazine under her pillow in a hurry, she pretended to cough. “I’d suggest you stay away, I’m highly contagious, this head cold business is nasty stuff,” she warned, pretending to cough again and hoping that whoever was on the other side would just go away.

@Isaac Hackney 

"I'm fine,' Isaac told the hippie professor as she wrote him a note to excuse him out of Herbology and forgot how to spell his name halfway through the memo. He groaned, taking the note and his books and heading out of the greenhouses with a scowl. "I'm fucking fine," He repeated, even though there was no one around him to hear, and then closed his eyes. They pounded behind his lids like they might explode out the front at any moment, and he was feeling a little dizzy, whatever, maybe he was sick. Isaac hated getting sick, mostly because he was sick and because it meant going to the Hospital Wing, where he would undoubtedly run into another sick person. And he hated sick people.

Stomping his feet all the way back to the castle and then up the many flights of stairs to the nurse's office, the rather athletic teenager was out of breath by the time he reached the doors. His pale cheeks were red, the tip of his nose cold and runny, and his eyes had circles that made it seem like he hadn't slept in a week. He was fine.

Pushing past the other students that had gathered for their pepper-up potions, Isaac found his way to one of the overwhelmed witches that were dealing with this cold. It was that time of the year, and the cold was sweeping through Hogwarts. She instructed him to lay down, and someone would be over to check up in a minute. Groaning again, Isaac crossed the room toward the bed he'd been pointed to and slid the curtain back. Its curtain was connected to another, and the movement must have woken up the person behind it, not that the wizard cared, "You don't say," Isaac returned, keeping his voice low enough that he wouldn't be overheard, just in case on of those all-too-common curse words happened to slip out.

Wait. He knew that voice.

Of-fucking-course he was told to rest in the bed right next to hers, and was she even sick? That cough had sounded pretty fake to the Slytherin, but then again, he was distrusting of everyone and everything. Ignoring the privacy that Magnolia absolutely deserved, sick or otherwise, Isaac pulled the curtain between their beds open and gave her a frown. He leaned back against his bed, his eyes feel scratchy and heavy, and crossed his arms in front of him. "You look really fucking sick," The Slytherin began to accuse, brown eyes narrowing on her slightly. He'd noticed her missing from their morning classes, but he wasn't about to tell her that he'd taken extra notes for her, not now that he saw she was reading a magazine and probably totally fine.

The universe was apparently having a good laugh at her expense.

“Ugh,” the Gryffindor rolled her eyes when she realized that it was Isaac as if being oblivious to the way her heart picked up the pace just a little in her chest would change that she had happened in the first place. “It’s just you,” she added as an afterthought, pulling the poorly hidden magazine from its poorly chosen hiding place and continuing to flip the page. She wasn’t ignorant to the fact that he seemed to be dismissing her practically non-existing symptoms, maybe because a part of her wanted him to start by asking if she was doing okay.

Of course, Magnolia wouldn’t let that silly thought go too far, for then she’d start wishing that he would tell her things like he had appeared because he had missed her in class. Not that she’d swoon at that or anything, she’d probably just wrinkle her nose and tell him to piss off. Instead, she followed up her comment with a haughty giggle, pausing as she had just started to flip the page, to look over at him. “Are you? You look just fine to me,” she continued.

Almost immediately, the word fine had other associations in her head, ones that made her frown a little. She was apparently still very feverish and suffering from delusions. Were ridiculous thoughts a side effect as well? If so, Magnolia might be in quite some trouble should she start talking to all the boys she found attractive in her year.

Upon closer inspection, however, Magnolia did notice some of the signs of illness but pretended not to know or not to care as she looked away. Rather, the girl reminded herself that it was something minor and he’d be just fine, not that she was worried, to begin with. The Gryffindor figured that her life would have been much easier if he had to stay in the hospital wing for the rest of the term. At least then, she’d have a chance in passing all of the courses they shared together.

“What’s your sign, Isaac? I’m going to say…Gemini, perhaps?” she wondered, her eyes skimming over the page. She had ulterior motives for asking, but he would probably be none the wiser. Flipping to the end of the magazine, she looked over at him expectantly.

"Yeah, I am great," Isaac said as he leaned further into the hard mattress of the hospital bed, more exhausted than he remembered being a few minutes ago, but of course, he blamed Magnolia for that. He moved back to sit on the bed; no point in standing if he would be here for a while, but he didn't get comfortable. His legs hanging off the bed, sneakers on the floor, Isaac's elbows came to rest on his knees, hands hanging between them. Brown eyes rolled when she began flipping through a magazine he was sure was full of nonsense. She wasn't sick at all, she was using it as an excuse, but he didn't call her on it yet.

He had just started to consider turning and laying down on the bed, maybe even shutting his eyes for a few minutes, where was the damned nurse?, but her words interrupted his demanding thoughts, and his eyes moved lazily back to where she was lying. "The fuck?" He began, clearly, he was a lot sicker than he thought because there was no way in Merlin's magical world that she was actually asking him for his horoscope right now. "I do not even know how to respond to that question," He told her flatly, deciding to put his dirty sneakers up on the clean hospital bed sheets and letting his head fall against the pillow.

Isaac stared up at the ceiling as he spoke, still able to see her feet swaying out of the side of his eyes. While he knew exactly what a sign was and knew that he was not Gemini, Isaac did not trust telling her. She was a witch, and they were sinister with this sort of thing, especially with the latest issue of Witch Weekly. She'd find some way to use whatever information was weaved in those paragraphs against him; he just knew it. "What do I get for telling you?" He asked, willing his eyes to stay open as he grew more and more impatient about getting his pepper-up potion.

“Respond by telling me your sign, genius,” Magnolia looked over at him and scoffed as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “But if you don’t know,” she started, assuming that someone like Isaac probably spent more of his time in other type of magazines rather than the one in her hand, “just tell me when your birthday is and I’ll figure it out” she added. Isaac didn’t seem the type to seek out Shelby (the second year Ravenclaw that had turned her onto the magic of horoscopes) for personalized readings either, so Magnolia immediately convinced herself that he probably wasn’t aware of what his own sign was. Her sickles were still on Gemini, considering how unpredictable the boy’s personality was, at least when they spoke to each other.

While the girl was no expert on the “science” of horoscopes, her lack of knowledge did not keep her from reading every one of them, curious to know if it would ever align with what was happening in her life so that she could further believe in its power. This month’s reading of her own had been particularly challenging: Pay close attention to your tea leaves -- they may tell you something important soon. And as suggested, the girl had indeed, gone to Divination class with the explicit purpose of doing her own reading to see what was in store for her future. Unfortunately, since the girl had skimmed through most of the readings and had fallen asleep in a couple of the important classes, she couldn’t tell if the leaves at the bottom of the teacup revealed a great new adventure was in order or a terrible fate was in store (it really depended on how she held the cup). If her terrible fate had come in the form of a head cold, then maybe her life wasn’t as filled with bad luck as she had initially anticipated. But if there was a new adventure at hand, then what did this mean, and what would be its result?

“I can do some homework for you,” she offered playfully, knowing that he’d be better off refusing her considering her track record when it came to doing homework. Magnolia considered what she might be willing to give Isaac in return considering how the last time she had asked for his help he had made her solve (most of) that terribly dirty response that Duncan had made for his puzzle. As his friends were not around now, however, Magnolia figured that whatever he asked her to do wouldn’t be as bad. After all, his friends were not around to be impressed. “Tell me your sign and you can ask me whatever you want,” she proposed. 

Isaac rolled his eyes at her while considering his options. He was tired, but talking to her always had a way of getting him riled up, so his sleepiness was slowly moving to the backseat. On the other hand, he couldn't pretend he wasn't even the tiniest bit interested in whatever nonsense she was about to discern from his sign. Isaac believed in arithmancy and divinations, they weren't hard sciences, but at least there was real tangible magic behind them, but star signs and horoscopes? The teenager was pretty sure it was just a bunch of bullshit conspiracies the Witch Weekly posted each week to give their avid readers something to hide behind when things got bad.

He sucked in an annoyed breath, still wary of giving her any information, but her offer made him laugh out loud. Too loud, it was a howl of a thing, and it scratched at the back of his sore throat until he was coughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut. "Yeah, no, I am good," He told her between laughs and coughs and attempts to clear his throat. He wouldn't let Magnolia near his homework with a spellchecking enchanted quill, let alone on her own. No thanks.

However, the next thing she offered was far more intriguing to the nosy Slytherin, and he mulled on it for a moment before agreeing. Lifting from the bed, Isaac moved to sit on the end of hers near her magazine. The wizard didn't realize how closely he would be sitting to her until he had already completed the transition. With the way she was lying and how he had one leg pulled up onto the bed, the other swinging off the end because he wasn't a 'crossed-legged' type of person, they were barely a foot apart—just enough room for her trashy magazine to sit in between them.

"October 25th," He told her softly, his voice lower both because of how closely they were sitting but also because he didn't want anyone else in the hospital wing to know he was entertaining her Witch Weekly Horoscope nonsense. Isaac's eyes gleaned over the insane amount of information and moving pictures that were on the glossy pages on her bed and then turned back up to ask his question. "Why are you in Gryffindor?" He asked her a simple question that had so much more meaning beneath it to the wizard. Isaac knew why he thought the house fit her, but hearing her reasons, hearing what she thought about herself and whether or not she belonged, would say so much more about her than just observation alone.

“Your loss,” she noted, giving him a light shrug but knowing well that he’d be better off not doing his homework than letting her do it for him. Not that she’d try, in all honesty, she’d find much more joy in choosing purposefully wrong answers to embarrass him. He could deal with a little of the embarrassment on his own too, she considered, especially when she thought back to the many occasions, he had made her the topic of interest only where his jokes were concerned.

Magnolia froze momentarily when he moved to sit closer, noticing that this was a pattern with him, once that she did not care for as it made her uncomfortable. Not in the get away from me you’re gross sort of way she acted around guys she didn’t care for but more in the you’re giving me mixed feelings type of way which made her hyperaware of her actions. With him, this close she thought about the little things that normally didn’t matter, and with those thoughts came the increasing desire to make attractive gestures. In short, Magnolia didn’t like it when his eyes (which she believed to always be full of judgment) were on her. The girl could feel the goosebumps form along her arm in nervousness but ignored them, pretending like she hadn’t been reading the same line within the magazine the entire time he had been present.

She let out a breath of relief when he finally answered her question, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. Using her finger she traveled along with the page, inspecting it closely until she came upon the answer she was looking for, and tapped her finger. Before she could read it, however, he asked her the question and she felt the need to address it almost immediately. Unfortunately, however, she wasn’t sure how to do so in a witty manner. So instead, in a moment uncharacteristic of their exchanges, she gave him a serious answer.

“I dunno,” she started, the way she often started answers she needed more time to formulate, “Guess I’ve got nerve. People think being smart or good at something is important but I don’t think so, I think having the nerve to do it in the first place is what matters really, imagine only doing things you’re good at, you’d never get anywhere in life,” she reasoned, “I’ll try everything once just to say I’ve done it,” she added as an afterthought, letting the words sink in for several moments and half-expecting him to insult her in the way he liked to do. But soon after, she returned to the task at hand, feeling like maybe she had revealed too much about herself too soon, “This week, help may come from an unexpected place. Be gracious when it does” she read. Mulling it over for less than two seconds, she turned to him and smiled. “You’re welcome, Isaac, sounds like that’s talking about me,” she continued.

Isaac appreciated that she answered his question before informing him of whatever soothsayer nonsense was in the pages of her magazine. It was a small gesture, but, selfishly, he noticed it. Nerve, her choice of words sent his mind spinning through possible avenues of what she might have meant. She was undoubtedly bold, he had to give her that, but he was curious to elaborate. For probably the first time since they had started talking, Isaac hadn't been the least bit interested in interrupting her just to be irritating. Instead, he settled into where he was sitting and focused on her words. His brown eyes were searching her face as she spoke, and when they landed on her lips, Isaac stared just a little longer than he should have.

Her answer had been far more thought out and less annoying than the teenager had expected. In a way, he'd assumed she'd hide behind some typical Gryffindor party-line. 'Because I'm brave' or some shit like that. But what did bravery even mean? The Dome aside, none of the current students at Hogwarts had ever really needed a reason to be brave. And did bravery mean more when faced with a fight? Or on a day-to-day basis. Magnolia seemed like she had nerve everyday, and while her 'nerve' got on every last one of his, he was also impressed by it.

"I see," He replied, so obviously still thinking about what she had told him. He could have made a quip about her trying anything once, some dirty joke she'd roll her eyes at, but her honest answer had made him less inclined to insult her just then. And while he didn't quite complement what she had said or even respond to it, the lack of a cruel retort spoke volumes.

"This week, help may come from an unexpected place. Be gracious when it does." Isaac's face twisted with irritation as she read the nonsense out loud to him and then proceeded to assume that he had something to thank her for. Isaac reached for the magazine between them with a roll of his eyes. "It does not fucking say that," He told her as he searched for Scorpio in the list. It did, and he exhaled, "What bullshit," He scoffed before looking up to meet her eyes. "Well, what is yours then?"

I see, he said. What did that even mean? The Gryffindor might have been more focused on the fact that he had not insulted her seriousness had she not become obsessed with decipher what she believed to be a cryptic message. Did he mean I see as in he understood where she was coming from? The idea that one ought to try every experience available to them was no enlightened thought, but Magnolia wondered if he, too, felt the same spirit of adventure that she did. Was this the beginning of a snarky comment he had been unable to finish because she had gone on to read his horoscope?

It was not unusual for Isaac to take issue with everything she said, and therefore the witch had come to expect that he would always do it. Or did he mean I see as in he recognized her existence. Did he find her perspective interesting? He made a big deal about her being boring so the idea that her thoughtful comment might have sparked his interest made her feel oddly pleased with herself. And then at the end of her mini spiral into the abyss of questions she’d never get answers to, Magnolia reached the conclusion she often reached when it came to boys and trying to act like she didn’t thrive off of this attention: It didn’t matter what he thought of her.

“It does so!” she insisted, tilting the magazine so that he’d get a better look, and acting like she didn’t notice how close he was to her at that very moment. While she might not have cared for it under different circumstances, it was nice to have him around to talk to maybe even nicer that flipping through Witch Weekly on her own. But then again, Magnolia wasn’t about to get that ahead of herself. When he asked her what her horoscope said, however, she smirked with much mischief. “Curious, aren’t we?” she boasted, maybe a little happier than one ought to be under the same circumstances. Now this was something they could have a conversation about. “And what will you give me in return for telling you?” she asked.

Isaac could have said more, Merlin knew he had plenty of thoughts on her answer, but he stayed quiet instead. The teenager had been impressed by her response, but he made sure not to show it. Typically she gave him something sassy or sarcastic, something he could turn around on her, or something half-assed, but this answer wasn't like that. It was different, it was more, and he didn't want to ruin it. He thought he might have, by not replying, but she let it slide past her too, and he noticed that also. She didn't demand to know what he was thinking or assume that she already did.

Was this was it felt like to not argue about every little thing?

He didn't believe the horoscope nonsense for a second, even after he'd read it for himself, and Isaac turned the book back toward her. "A little," He replied quickly; before his mind could stop him, he had gotten too caught up in the honesty (and ridiculousness) of the situation. All too comfortable sitting this close to her, and it had broken his typically firm resolve. He hadn't meant to tell her he was curious, not out loud anyway, but it was out now, and he couldn't take it back without looking foolish, so instead, he just half shrugged.

"Same deal, then," Isaac offered her with a nod as he kept his brown eyes locked intently with hers. "You get to ask me one question," Absently he wondered what sort of question she would ask, already assuming it would be something he'd annoying, but regardless, he made himself a silent promise to tell her the truth. She'd given him a real answer and for whatever reason he did not now, he thought he owed her at least that. Fuck, maybe the horoscope was right.

“One question, how set are you on that limit?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as she flipped through the index page of the magazine, “Because if the answers to several small questions to a bigger question then aren’t all of those small questions connected anyway and in turn does that big question not fall under the limit?” she continued, but she wasn’t really looking for an answer. It had been more of a series of rhetorical questions with the purpose of justifying asking him more than one.

There was so much she wanted to know and it was with that curiosity that she found it easy to forget all of his mean words, much more interested in what sort of information she’d have to share with Mavis later. Well maybe, she hadn’t exactly told Mavis about whatever this thing was though she had considered it. As she looked through the quizzes however, she realized that they were topics she wasn’t that interested in talking about as well. Quizzes on kissing only made her think of Isaac kissing Allison and quizzes on crushes made her consider whether Isaac had been lying when he said they weren’t close. There was no point in discussing all the other girls she had heard about in association with the Slytherin.

It was with this thought that she promptly closed the issue, and looked at him with a smile on her face, “Your tattoo,” she said. He had said something about it before, but she hadn't believed him. She nodded in the direction of his arm, but just in case he was going to pretend like she didn’t know, she shifted to move her arm from under her and pressed a finger against where she had vaguely remembered it to be. “Why did you get it? What does it mean?” she asked. Technically, those had been two questions but they were interconnected enough that he could answer them within the same sentence. “My birthday is November 28th so…Sagittarius,” she explained, looking away long enough to open the back cover of the magazine and show him the horoscope readings, pointing at the corresponding passage within the magazine but more intrigued by the answer he would (surely) give her.

Isaac raised an eyebrow when she spoke, a warning of sorts. He had agreed to answer one question, not a bloody onslaught of them, but of course, Nola was asking for more. Had he expected anything less? The way she rambled gave him a chuckle, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to convince him or herself more about the number of questions. He saw her flipping through the book, and he knew what sorts of quizzes were hidden in the bowels of this awful magazine, and for a moment he thought she was about to ask him to do one of them with her. He absolutely would not.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat Isaac observed her, silently telling her not to bring up one of the quizzes and hoping she'd hear the message loud and clear. He was already giving in to this horoscope nonsense; how much more could she ask of him? It felt like the seconds ticked on forever before she finally moved to ask her question. Isaac was halfway through an eye-roll, assuming she would ask about a quiz when her question caught him. "Oh," he said softly, the surprise evident on his face, and he breathed a sigh of relief. That could have been a lot worse.

Isaac didn't move when she poked his arm, but he did fight the urge to grab her hand when she did. She was hitting him a lot lately. He had noticed, but he never told her to stop either. Isaac considered lying to her again because it would have been so much easier than explaining. He'd wanted to get a tattoo for a while, and he wasn't exactly artistic, but there was something about a set of triangles in one of the books that had spoken to him. Isaac picked it out and then added more lines and shading to it to make it more original. "Well," he began, thoroughly considering how to tell her and preparing himself if she made fun of it. He hadn't told anyone what it meant, not even the witch who had permanently inked it onto his forearm, so he felt oddly vulnerable now. "I got it because I wanted to." He said pointedly; Isaac only did things he wanted to.

Rolling up his sleeve, he started with the easiest part. The most prominent shaded triangle in the middle, and pointed to it, "This represents me," He began, his eyes flicking from the black lines up to her eyes and back. His fingertip trailed down to the smaller triangle, the one that was shaded all black, but he didn't explain that it represented what was inside him. Maybe it was his soul or his intentions; he wasn't really sure. Taking a breath, he chewed on his lip and moved back out to the more significant lines that surrounded the triangles. Isaac pointed to the most extensive line, the one furthest outside from everything else, and spoke, "And this is everyone else," He told her; the honesty in his eyes could have burned a hole straight through her gossip magazine. Isaac didn't mention the line that sat in between himself and the world; it represented the wall he'd built up without even knowing it, and while he hadn't planned the line to mean that exactly, it did.

It wasn't deeply profound, and he hadn't meant it to be when he'd gotten it, but in the days after getting it done, it had taken on its meaning. Parts of which Isaac himself wasn't even fully aware of. He supposed he liked it better that way, versus having tried so hard to make it meaningful, only for it to fall flat. Isaac leaned back a little, his sleeve still rolled up, hand laying on top of the mattress between them, close to her.

"Saggitarius, that explains a lot," It didn't. Isaac had no idea what the meaning behind it was, but he pretended that he did, and he smirked at her. Turning the page halfway toward him to read it, Isaac leaned closer to her, his head tilted toward the page, and read the words out loud. "Pay close attention to your tea leaves -- they may tell you something important soon." He scoffed and then looked back toward her, "Well, have they, told you something important, yet?" He asked a bit of disbelief and playfulness in his voice.

The girl took his response to mean that he had not expected her to settle on the topic of his tattoo, which only made her that much more eager to hear what answer he’d cook up this time. Magnolia knew that every piece of ink did not have to mean anything at all but for some reason, Isaac didn’t seem the type to get a tattoo for the sake of doing it. Then again, maybe this was another one of her Magnolia-isms in which she had made conclusions about a person she had only started actually talking to a few months ago. But if being Hogwarts’ gossip queen had taught her anything, it was how to size up a person from the first meeting.

She had not been entirely wrong about Isaac, in fact, his unpredictability had been the first thing that she had noticed about him. And true to her assumptions, this too had been a demonstration of that. He answered the initial question the way she might have expected him to, of course he did it because he wanted to, but that was not exactly what she meant. What circumstances had lead to it? Of course Magnolia would never be able to formulate such a question in such a short period of time, the girl could barely keep up with the racing thoughts in her head and Isaac didn’t seem like a patient person.

While she might have expected him to tell her no and end the conversation right there, she was pleasantly surprised to see him roll up his sleeve. He had been a beater last year, she had heard about it through someone, and now she could tell how much that training had paid off. Magnolia felt a little vapid thinking about how attractive he might have looked during Quidditch training and regretted not paying closer attention to the team before when she managed to go to the games but she was a girl after all. Even so, no amount of curiosity distracted her from the fact that she was seeing more of him than she normally did, in both a physical and emotional sense, and that not moment not only felt strangely intimate. Not in the weird way, she considered soon after, but in some way she could not quite describe.

She watched his fingers trace along the outline of the tattoo, not oblivious to the fact that he had failed to explain everything but not wanting to push it either. It felt more…truthful, this story, and because of that she felt more inclined to take what she was given and be satisfied rather than to demand more information from him. Interestingly, his tattoo had had a depth of meaning, much of which she wasn’t even sure she would have concluded on her own. It felt strangely deep of him. Naturally, she equivocated this explanation to emotional depth and there being something, another side of him waiting to be discovered. And it was enchanting.

“That’s…” she started, but what was one to say, “cool, pretty deep actually, I didn’t think it would mean all that,” she trailed off, returning her attention that the magazine as to avoid saying something stupid. Not that her answer hadn’t been all sorts of stupid to begin with. But mentally scolding herself wouldn’t matter now. Instead, she laughed at his assumptions and moved on, bookmarking this conversation for a later date. “Does it? Is my free-spiritedness, sensitivity, and argumentative personality that obvious?” she teased, referring to words she had read about in the past but couldn’t quite remember where. She had probably learned them from Shelby.

“Yes, they told me that I’m not sure how to read tea leaves,” she laughed at herself, “I’m either in for a terrible accident or a life changing adventure, I suppose either way sounds promising?”

Isaac felt strange after having revealing so much to her, he hadn't planned to go into so much detail, even though he really hadn't, to begin with, but it was a lot more information than he'd thought he would share. In a way, he felt heavy for telling her but also lighter if that made any sense at all. He was glad to have told her, and even more relieved when she didn't mock him for it. The small smile on his lips met his eyes as he nodded to her. "Me either, honestly," He began, shrugging one shoulder and taking a breath. "It was not supposed to mean anything, but after it was finished, I realized it had a meaning all along." His words were slow, heavily accented, and authentic in a way he typically wasn't with her. A way he rarely was with anyone, really.

He moved to roll his sleeve back down and jostled the bed beneath them doing so. After he'd covered up the tattoo he wasn't supposed to have Isaac's hands fell to his side, one on the thigh of the leg hanging off the bed, the other sitting lazily on the Hospital Wing comforter."I am not sure I would explain it in those words," He narrowed playful eyes on her when she referred to herself as free-spirited and argumentative, before chuckling.

Still smiling when she explained what he already knew to be obvious Isaac rolled his eyes at her. Was this girl good at any of her classes? He knew she wasn't dumb, she was actually infuriatingly clever, so why was she so awful when it came to lessons. Not that he could blame her, "Divination is such a shit class," He sighed, even Isaac could barely figure out his leaves half of the time."It is so subjective," So much so that it made Isaac trust the magic less and less. Like it wasn't really telling them anything, to begin with, only showing them vague images so that their mind would fill in the rest. "I think it is more in your head, what you see in the tea leaves. The leaves themselves do not hold any answers they just let your mind come to an answer you might otherwise reject."

"Then again," He said with another shrug of his shoulders and that playful smile gracing his dimpled cheeks again, "You are a bit of a mess, so what do I know,"

“I think that…” she started, mulling over her words to figure out how to express what she wanted to say. “Is rather significant, that the meaning came after rather than there being one in the first place, I heard it’s always different, when it is written on parchment as opposed to when its inked onto your skin,” she noted, her eyes drifting down to his arm again. Initially, Magnolia had considered getting a tattoo to make her parents upset, but as of recently, she had started to see it as a rite into adulthood. And it was with that newfound meaning that finding the right design had been difficult. But regardless of what she got, it wouldn’t be as meaningful as the one he had shown her.

“So you’ve your own words to describe me, then?” she expressed, shifting to sit on the bed instead of laying on it when she realized she was feeling a little stiff. To make more space for him (not that she wanted him there in the first place, she told herself) she sat closer to the edge of the bed, letting a foot rest on the side railing. “Been thinking a lot about me, I see,” she smirked, though it was hardly in a mocking manner but moreso in a joking one. Though it certainly didn’t stop her from wondering what he actually thought of her. Even if he had already expressed it about a dozen times.

“Well it’s all in your head anyway, I haven’t a clue why my grade’s got to suffer because of it,” she said, but really Magnolia’s grade was suffering all on its own. “I’m not a mess,” she insisted but she had also giggled so technically, she had cancelled out her own statement. “Not all the time anyway,” she qualified her statement. “At least I don’t go around pretending I’m someone else all the time”.