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TWO | SIMPLE QUESTIONS
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❝IT WAS AS IF HE WAS CONSTANTLY AFRAID SOMEONE WOULD JUMP HIM.❞

∞

HERMIONE WAS SITTING IN THE LIBRARY. Isaac knew from experience it was the place where he could find the bookworm, despite it only being the first day of school.  He was originally looking for Harry, but after an hour of searching for the scarred boy, he figured he had to be in his Common Room, if not his dormitory. So he decided to go for Hermione instead, hoping she would know even just a bit about the Gryffindor try-outs. That, and Isaac was a bit intimidated by Ron Weasley.
                Spread on her table was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and her expressions were filled with concentration. Isaac didn't want to interrupt her, but he was also aware that Hermione was not getting anywhere, not with the new book at least.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Isaac asked carefully, waiting for Hermione to notice his presence. When he got the approval, a surprised and quick nod, he pulled back the empty seat across from her and sat down, his eyes immediately landing on the book. "How's it going?"
                His heart was already ramming in his chest, a familiar itch crawling up his throat. Isaac didn't know how long until his voice would no longer be steady and instead break under the nerves. And yet, under all the unease, he felt a familiar warmth spread through his stomach that would soon spread over his pale skin.

"It's a total disaster," Hermione groaned. "There is no explanation on how to use a spell, whatsoever. What if we need to defend ourselves and we can't?" She sounded defeated and sick of studying. "Anything else, I get, but this is too— too—"

"—Simplistic?" Isaac filled in for her, eyebrow raised and slightly surprised at the sudden defeated outburst of the girl.
                 "I get it, you're too used to figuring out these hard tasks and assignments, that a book as easy as this puts you off." A soft and slightly nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he closed the gap between his body and the table, feeling a sudden rush of confidence. Maybe it was because there was no one else around them to possibly hear him screw up, or maybe it was just because Hermione looked confused for once.
                No longer was there the superior and quite threatening wits that surrounded her like an impenetrable shield. She looked just like the average student there. "Just try not to think too much." He carefully closed the book. "There's not much to study anyway, on the first day." He smiled carefully, completely forgetting what he came for in the first place— it was as if Hermione made his mind go blanc, every time her chocolate eyes locked with his. He shook his head, trying to get his mind set straight again. "Anyway," he breathed in sharply through his teeth, "I came here to ask you something—well, actually I wanted to ask Harry but he isn't available, for the moment. So could you ask him?"

Hermione nodded, pushing the Defense Against the Dark Arts book aside. "Of course," she mused. "Is it about the Tri—"

"No, no, definitely not," Isaac quickly shut down. "It's about Quidditch, actually." As he saw Hermione's expression turn from neutral curiosity to disgust, he quickly added, "I know you probably don't like it, but it's sort of important. You don't happen to know when Gryffindor has it's try-outs, do you? I want to make sure all the Try-Outs don't overlap each other."
                   There was a time - and though it hadn't even been a year, it felt like an eternity ago -, where Isaac would be on the Quidditch fields, playing quick matches with Cedric and other members of the team. Because of the Triwizard tournament, there were no official matches, but the older boy would not accept that as an excuse to not train.
                    Some days, Isaac would spot Hermione in the bleachers, occasionally watching in horror at the Hufflepuffs speeding through the sky. It was only after months of Cedric's nagging that Isaac had the confidence to approach her for the first time.

"I'll ask Harry," Hermione promised.

                     Isaac nodded solemnly. "Thank you." He turned away from her, facing the desk. The confidence he had seconds ago was fading away and Isaac was painfully aware of his own heartbeat, trying to focus on the crevices in the wood. He rubbed his hands over his trousers, trying to collect his lost confidence before he looked back at Hermione. Their eyes immediately locked as she had been watching him the entire time with an all too familiar expression.
                    Pity.
It seemed that that was the only emotion people could express with Isaac. Ranging from his own mother to the professors at Hogwarts.

"Well," Isaac started off blinking excessively, "I suppose that was it. Good luck with studying." He pushed the stool back, getting up. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, eventually." He send Hermione an encouraging smile, before turning on his heels.

"Isaac, wait," Hermione stopped him. Whenever Isaac opened his mouth to say something, she expected it to be about Cedric. She hadn't seen Isaac during last year's feast where Dumbledore commemorated Cedric and she knew that Isaac was very. . . vulnerable.
                    At first, he appeared ordinary, maybe just a bit shy, but after some observation once they had become sort of friends last year, Hermione had noticed how fidgety he always was, never able to keep his eyes concentrated one thing. The subtle avoidance of eye contact, that always present faint quivering half smile. It was as if he was constantly afraid someone would jump him. "Is there really nothing else you want to ask me?"

The Hufflepuff boy stared at Hermione for a moment, before averting his gaze. He could see the pity in her eyes and hated it. She expected him to break, but Isaac had all summer to express his emotions. He was over it. Biting down hard on his lips and fixating his gaze on the book Updated Counter-Curse Handbook that was positioned in one of the old shelves, Isaac shrugged.

"Don't believe I do."

∞

The moment Isaac entered the greenhouse for his afternoon classes, he was met with the familiar earthy fragrance that reminded him of the quidditch pitch after a rainy afternoon. The atmosphere was stuffy and light poured through the glass building. He quickly spotted the blonde mop of hair of Aila, tied into a loose ponytail.
                  Walking over, Isaac stroke gently over her head as soon as he was within reach, making sure not to mess up her ponytail. He knew how much effort Aila put into her hair and hated it when others ruined it.

Aila turned on her heels to face her best friend, smiling brightly.
                 "And?" she asked, unconsciously smoothing her hair where Isaac had stroked her. "Did you talk to Harry?" Her excited demeanor seemed suspicious and Isaac frowned, slightly amused.

"Why are you so thrilled about Harry?" He stood in the empty spot next to Aila, retrieving his protective gloves from his bag and putting them on.
                "I couldn't find him," he answered her question, "So I asked Hermione to pass on the message." He saw the smile fall from Aila's face at the mention of Hermione. "What's with the face?" Isaac asked concerned. All traces of amusement disappeared at the sight of his best friend's dissatisfaction.

Aila shrugged. "I was hoping you'd ask Harry about You-Know-Who and not just Quidditch."

"What's with Quidditch and Harry?" Ernie MacMillan took the spot across from Isaac, holding his hand formally out. Isaac did not hesitate to shake it, being accustomed to his odd habits. They had met first in their dorms during their first year, where Ernie had formally introduced himself with a firm handshake. Ever since, it had become custom to greet him with a quick shake whenever they met after a period of time. Though the blond boy had been shorter than Isaac during their first meeting, he had grown over the summer to be almost a head taller.

"Try-outs," Isaac replied. "Figured that if anyone knew when they took place, it's Harry."

"Speaking of Harry," Aila involved herself into the conversation between the two boys. "I reckon you've read the stories about him, haven't you, Ernie?" She batted her eyelids innocently at him, awaiting his response. Ernie however only nodded, his mouth agape. "What's your opinion on them?" Aila inched her body closer to the boy, laying her hands on the desk.

Ernie stared mesmerized at Aila. It was evident that he fancied the blonde and Aila seemed to take advantage of it sometimes, though Isaac suspected that she had some feelings for the boy as well, only having turned his proposal to the Yule Ball down because she had already planned to go with Isaac.
Despite Isaac suggesting to find another date, Aila insisted that she couldn't break her promise simply because of a boy.

"I believe him," Ernie sputtered after receiving a kick against his shinbone from Isaac to pull him back into reality. "He has no reason to lie, has he?" Ernie glanced discreetly around, before inching closer to Isaac and Aila, whispering, "You know how Umbridge silenced Harry's claims yesterday in class? If you ask me, she's a big supporter of You-Know-Who. Why else would she refuse to teach us how to defend ourselves at such dangerous time?"

Isaac knew not to take Ernie's words too seriously, but it did not stop him from worrying the slightest. He didn't think that Umbridge was a Death Eater, but he did believe that she played a crucial role in the ministry trying to cover up the return of Voldemort.
                Isaac had a suspicion that Ernie wasn't the only one who had some type of theory about Umbridge and Voldemort and he dreaded the amounts of conspiracy theories he had to spit through before finding an eligible story that he could get past Professor Sprout.

However, Aila's interest seemed to be piqued by Ernie's story, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh, really?" She glanced quickly over at Isaac, before returning her attention to Ernie, stating, "I told Isaac she wasn't to be trusted just last night! But of course he wouldn't listen to me."

Isaac, who had been slowly drifting out of the conversation and was instead engrossed with the puffapods that were blooming in a nearby pot. His attention was only returned at the mention of his name, staring alerted at Aila and Ernie. "What 'bout me?" His hands slid over the dirty wooden table, collecting dirt on them.

"I was just telling Ernie about you disagreeing with me about Umbridge." Aila placed her left hand over Isaac's, squeezing gently before promptly letting go.

"I never disagreed," Isaac noted. "It was your absence that I disapproved of."

"Don't act like you missed her during class," Ernie grinned. "I saw you coddling with Granger before class. So did Weasley, turned almost as red as his hair."

"What — what do you mean he turned red? Why would he?" Isaac asked concerned, feeling as though his ears were burning up. "I wasn't coddling with Hermione, she asked to sit next to me." He rubbed his hands against the table again, this time pressing harder against the wood to have a solid surface as the ground underneath him seemed to sway.

"I was only joking, mate," Ernie reassured his friend. "He probably turned red from Umbridge scolding him." His eyes locked with Isaac's and he flash him a quick smile.
              "You mentioned the try-outs, didn't you? Are you planning on participating or will you finally give us a shot at securing a spot, huh?"

Isaac shook his head briskly. "I'm done with playing Quidditch." Even if Isaac enjoyed playing Quidditch in his free time, just the idea of playing in front of the entire school without Cedric by his side made him sick. He doubted that he could set foot in the locker room without breaking down in seconds.
                    The entire train ride consisted of Aila calming Isaac down, after locking their compartment. Isaac wanted to be excited to return to Hogwarts, but it had turned from the place he called home to the place where his close friend was murdered. No longer did Isaac feel safe to go back, but Aila reminded him that there were more positives than negatives surrounding school.

Hogwarts had Aila, his friends; potions, despite being taught by the most unnerving professor present and it gave Isaac and his mother space to breathe. Isaac loved his mother more than anything in the world, but both of their anxiety brought the worst out in them and they would rarely leave their house during break.
                  At Hogwarts, Isaac felt free and had his dorms that were always filled with sunlight, unlike his own room, where the curtains seemed to be permanently closed. He didn't want to see what was behind them. Despite it being hard to admit at the time, Hogwarts brought Isaac peace.

"Are you, Isaac?" Professor Sprout seemed to have appeared out of thin air behind the boy. "That's a pity. I was hoping to win against Gryffindor again. Do you recall the cookies I brought after the victory two years back? Professor McGonagall isn't just great at Transfiguration, you know, her baking skills are magical." The short woman laughed to herself, before waddling to the front of the classroom.

The three teenagers watched her walk away, before bursting into a silent fit of laughter. Isaac could feel his heart easing up after the small monologue by his professor. The woman always radiated happiness and positivity, making it hard for Isaac to worry after a quick chat with her. He did agree with her. It was a pity he quit Quidditch. There was a time Isaac even dreamed of playing it professionally, believed he could play professionally after Hogwarts. But Quidditch players were daring and tough and charming. All qualities Isaac was not, despite what others tried to tell him. 

"I love that bloody woman," Aila sighed in adoration. "Really, why aren't all professors as wonderful as her? Umbridge could learn a thing or two."

"Yeah," Isaac muttered with a faint smile.