Isaac wasn't sure what he was doing, or even where he was going, as his feet carried him absently across the greenhouse. Taking her book from her without permission, or even as much as a hello, was not unusual these days. He wasn't nice to her, but she kept talking to him anyway, which confused him. The Slytherin knew it was her birthday but did he wish her a good one? Of course not, that would imply that he cared. Instead, he just slid her book off the desk and headed back for his.
Magnolia didn't argue, didn't stop him, and that puzzled him too. He could feel her eyes on him as he flipped the pages to where they were supposed to be working and grabbed his quill. He could have just told her in person, or hell, slid a note her way, but this was more irritating, and in turn, more his style. Finishing what he was writing, he closed the book, and soon enough, the lesson was over as well. Isaac didn't return it, didn't look over at her; he just left it on the desk and walked out of the greenhouse. Sometimes his actions didn't even make sense to himself. He didn't know why he even cared that it was her birthday or to make sure that she thought he didn't care; it felt chaotic.
He'd expected her to have some grand plans with her little click. The assumption that she wouldn't have time to hang out with him (or that she wouldn't want to in the first place) made him angry before she even had a chance to say no. Isaac didn't like being told no, so most of the time, he didn't even ask. He'd nearly talked himself out of it by the time he'd gotten down to the greenhouse, but his feet moved without his mind's consent.
After the lesson had finished and dinner, Isaac made his way to the corridor. It was already dark outside, but Isaac didn't mind the shadows that the lit braziers cast across the stone walls as he walked. He'd swapped out his school robes for black jeans and a charcoal gray hooded sweater, the plain white shirt underneath, cutting a strange contrast with the rest of his dark outfit. All black sneakers hit the stone floor lightly, and he continued the inner struggle of whether to walk faster or turn back.
Eventually, he was too close to not go through with it, and Isaac rounded the corner with a straight face. His brown eyes squinted into the relative darkness until he found her sitting on a window sill. He took in the light of the lanterns glowed off of her skin. "Hawkins," he said, drawing out her name so that she could hear the way his eyes rolled when he said it. Approaching her, Isaac didn't say much before he pulled himself up to sit next to her, in the space left on the sill, and looked at the wall across from them. "Heard it was your birthday or some shit," He started, pretending he didn't know for sure, but he did. She had told him, and he had remembered.
The little box in his pocket was burning a hole, but he left it there. It's not like it was anything fancy, and he was pretty sure she'd hate it anyway, but he had convinced himself it was an excellent way to get what he wanted. Hiding behind the wall of ulterior motives he'd built up, Isaac finally turned to look at her. "So, Happy Birthday, I guess,"