Releasing a grandiose sigh, Cara slumped forward against her corner table in the library. Laying her face in her hands, she massaged the crown of her head, thick black locks spilling down onto the parchment and textbooks beneath her.

Thus far, the OWLs were chewing her up—both the work load and the prospect of sitting the exams in June. She was sure she'd knock out an O in DADA and Transfiguration, and maybe an E in Charms, but Herbology and Potions were threatening to be lost causes.

What really terrified her, though, was the prospect of her N.E.W.T.s next year.  She'd heard nothing but abject horror stories from the upperclassmen.

Cara sat up, leaning back in her chair so that it tipped very slightly on to two legs, and crossed one silk-legging covered thigh over the other. She adjusted her skirt, aware that it had ridden up far enough in her absent-minded state that any professor walking by would surely have a word for her, and then peered around the library, eager for any distraction from her studies.

Isla wasn't necessarily studying... But she was trying to keep up the appearance of studying. At her table, Isla had her Charms text open and several pieces of parchment. On one, was a half written letter to her parents. The one she was currently focused on, quill in hand, was a rough sketch-in-progress... Of Cara Siger. The Gryffindor was two years ahead of Isla, though they were fairly close in age. Isla was the oldest of her year, so she was friendly with several fifth years. This, of course, aggravated Alistair sometimes. After all, he was fun and sociable and actually friends with many of the fifth years, regardless of house.

Isla's blue eyes glanced up from the drawing to get another look at her subject-- only to discover that Cara had shifted positions. And her skirt was, uh. Short. Her mother would kill her if she wore a skirt that short. Isla let out a soft, slightly strangled noise. Cheeks flushed, she looked at Cara for just a little too long before focusing her eyes back on the page.

Then the unthinkable happened. In her mild panic, Isla's elbow bumped against her jar of ink and promptly emptied itself onto her book.

"NooOoooooOooo...." She exhaled a lament under her breath. She didn't even know a good cleaning spell to fix this! The last time she tried to fix something, Fred Radley got covered in bugs.

Cara glanced up at the sound of Isla's quiet death.

Oh, what a pickle! It looked as if Miss Spectre had thoroughly drenched her textbook in ink. Though reasonably graceful, Cara had absolutely been there before... and so, fortunately, she knew exactly how to help!

With a wry smile, Cara rose from her seat, straightening out her skirt and crossing the distance between Isla and her, wand at hand.

"Had an accident, love?" she asked in her lilting, sing-song tone.

"Don't worry about it! Managed to drench my own things more than once, yanno? Here..."

Cara leveled her wand on the ink-soaked book, and said aloud: "Tergeo!"

The dark, oily substance was siphoned into Cara's wand posthaste, leaving the book utterly dry in its wake—good as new!

"Oh—reckon you'll need—hold on, sweetie," she said vaguely, heading back to her own table and gathering up her books, parchment, and satchel. She returned to Isla and spread her odds and ends out adjacent to the tall redhead, setting a half-full, stoppered bottle of ink in front of her.

"Don't mind if I join ya, do you? Bored to tears, wedged into that corner by myself," she mused, flashing Isla a winning smile.

"I wanted to ask, too—er—do I have somethin' on my face? You, ah, keep lookin' up at me, and—"

Cara's eyes had begun to wander as she spoke, settling on the sketch of—oh, goodness, of herself! She leaned forward and snatched up the parchment startlingly quickly, perhaps suspecting that Isla might throw herself upon the drawing if she knew that Cara had cottoned on to it.

"Is this me?" she asked, pausing for one brief moment on the precipice of what will she say next?

"It's wonderful! You're very talented!"

Isla let out an excited gasp. Really, the fifth year (most fifth years, actually) was so good at spells! She was so impressed by this feat of magical genius that she forgot to hide her drawing away before Cara could see it. It wasn't a very good drawing yet anyway-- just a sketch. But it was good enough for anyone who knew Cara to recognize her form on paper.

And the last thing Isla wanted was to come off as a creepy creeping creeper.

Although resistance was futile, Isla tried to hide the drawing. Bless her heart, she really did. She flung herself onto the table-- seconds too late. Papers fluttering to the ground, Isla rose back to her feet and tried to pretend that everybody slammed into the table in the library. A nearby house elf brought his finger to his lips and loudly told them to hush-- which only made Isla's cheeks turn even redder. How could she be so loud? And so dumb? And so clumsy? Ugh. 

"Um." She cleared her throat, "I'm not a stalker." That was reassuring, "I promise."

Cara giggled quietly at Isla's reassurances. She lay the drawing neatly back on the table, shaking her head.

"If drawing very flattering pictures of me is your idea of stalking, sweetie, then stalk away. Just don't follow me into the bathrooms unless you've got to go, too—gotta have some private time every now and again, yanno?"

Cara drew her legs up into her lap, folding them crisscross and leaning forward on her elbows.

"Caaan I ask why you drew a picture of me, though, love? Oh, no—don't turn any redder, please—I think you might pass out."

There was a playful edge to Cara's voice, though she did not seem to be mocking Isla.

Oh, Merlin. She was mortified. All Isla wanted to do was go hide in the counselor's office and be fed sweets. Hiding in her dorm was also a tempting alternative...

"You're so nice." The witch finally stammered out. How could she have been so obvious about the drawing? Why did she have to be clumsy? Why couldn't she be sneakier and not get caught in the first place? Isla wasn't sure what was worse-- being caught drawing by the subject of her art, or being caught by somebody else. She wasn't a big fan of showing people her work... It was private, it was unpolished, and it wasn't (in her opinion) very good.

Isla gave Cara a confused look, red brows furrowing together. "...." She tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the side, "You can keep that, if you want." She probably wouldn't finish it anyway, most of her projects were half-completed before she abandoned them. "I thought your face was interesting so I..." She let the sentence trail off, uncompleted. Really, she was making a fool of herself, and this entire scenario was one giant cringe moment.

"I'm not going to pass out, I promise." Isla explained, offering the other witch a shy smile, "I don't do that." Even if she wished so badly she WOULD right now. Unconsciousness was preferable to humiliation.

"Oh! I'd love to!" Cara replied sweetly, retrieving the drawing once more.  She—very carefully and neatly—folded the paper and slipped it into one of the exterior pockets of her satchel.

She watched Isla slowly devolve into an absolute mess, thinking only that the girl just looked pitiful! She also couldn't help but feel somehow responsible for the girl's predicament, even if she had only thus far attempted to help.

Cara flushed very slightly at the compliment, grinning so widely now that her teeth were visible.

"Thank you," she replied, somewhat more gently than before—adding: "You're very pretty, too."

As for the reassurances to retaining consciousness, though, Cara laughed, nodding her head.

"I'm glad to hear it. It'd be an awful silly reason to have to go to the infirmary, don't you think, love?"

Peering down at Isla's books, she attempted to move the conversation into what might be less... awkward territory.

"What is it you're studying, there, dear? Maybe I can help—so long as it isn't Herbology or Potions... ugh, I'm rubbish at those. It'll be a good job if i can manage an A in either of 'em on my O.W.L.s in June."

Pretty? Isla wasn't sure she'd describe herself as pretty. Maybe her eyes. And her hair. But everything else..? Not so much. She was so average and dull in looks, but she made up for it with a wild sense of fashion. Loud clothes distracted from the plain-ness of the rest of her. But also, she thought they were pretty so she'd probably wear them regardless.

While Isla stood there feeling as awkward as a niffler in the Queen's bed, Cara was composed. Suave.

"I wasn't studying." The witch admitted, "I looked at the charms book until it bored me." It hadn't taken long, "So I... Erm... Left it open. Y'know. To look like I was studying."

Another smile turned the corners of Cara's lips, and she giggled girlishly.

"I do that in Potions all the time, sweetie, don't worry."

She leaned forward, cheek in her hand as she looked Isla up and down.

"I'm sure you do just fine in charms, though—you're so charming!"

Cara offered Isla a wink, and then giggled again. A silly, juvenile joke—Cara's specialty!—meant to perhaps break the tension that the younger girl seemed to be exuding.

This was too much.

Isla hoped that this was a dream, because it was far too overwhelming to deal with. Cara was so sweet and so kind. While Isla didn't hesitate to lavish others with love and compliments, it was different when the tables were turned. She, quite frankly, had no idea how to process it. Especially from someone she barely knew.

Instead of responding with a polite 'thank you' like somebody with common sense, Isla didn't say anything at all. Face burning, she picked up her backpack and booked it out of the library.

"Wh—"

Cara started, surprised by Isla's abrupt egress.

"Hey! I was joking! It was a joke! You forgot your book!"

She watched the taller redhead vanish out of sight and frowned, working her lips from side-to-side thoughtfully. Ruefully, Cara wondered if perhaps she had been a bit too forward with her joke, or otherwise offended the girl...  it occurred to her, in fact, that she hadn't even caught the girls name. It danced on the tip of her tongue, and Cara was sure she had overheard it in conversation before, but... oh.

She pulled the Charms book closer, flipping to the front inside cover and perusing the names listed therein.

Isla Eileen Murdina Spectre.

Cara snorted and giggled quietly, shaking her head. She shut the book and slipped it into her own bag, deciding that she would return it to Isla when she saw her next.