Welcome!

A little piece of the Common Room is sectioned off for the dedication of studies. Keeping with the color scheme of the room, black tables surrounded with comfy yellow chairs fill the area. Bookshelves line the wall, filled with books of various topical matters pertaining to classes. Somehow, even sitting down to study feels comfortable and fun. Maybe that's because yellow helps raise spirits while keeping you mellow.

Sparroe slid her bag off of her shoulder and set it down on the table gently, trying to be quiet. She sat down in one of the chairs and shivered. The fire was lit, but it was at the other side of the Common Room. Oh well. She'd get over it. Or she might just get the flu, whatever comes first.

She sighed and reached into her book, pulling out her sketchbook, her pencils and a book. She didn't know what she wanted to do. Book. She wanted to read. She nodded and pulled her book closer, flipping to the page she left off.

She tried to read, but her mind wandered to Finn. She wondered whether he was thinking of her or if he was regretting the kiss they had shared.

Finn strode in, unnoticed and unostracized. Despite the painful stakes her took to lighten his schoolbag and seal his name as the 'slacker', the olive drag messenger puffed out pregnantly, cutting precariously into his shoulder. "Blasted Divination," he huffed, eyeing a star chart through the glasses that were a scant centimeter from traveling down to his mouth.

His throat went dry, azure eyes sharply meeting the familiar sight of her profile silhouetted by the pale fire. Curls traveled in muddy roads down her back, her chin was cast down as she pored over something Finn was sure she would pass with the burdened effort in her features. He could smell her too. Something unique and...and delicious.

His toes seemed to curls, gouging holes in the soles of her shoes. So badly his feet burned to stride over and tell her something. Anything. He kissed her and he meant it. But it was so hopeless. Even when he practiced in the mirror, the words seemed impersonal and two-dimensional. Sometimes they didn't come out at all and barricded themselves in the most secluded portions of his mind to plgue and torment him and...

"Sparroe!" he interjected, not quite making up his mind, but giving himself no other choice. The footfalls he wanted to make impressively loud were absorbed by the squashy carpet that made little giggling noises instead. He was at her side, his arm resting over her books. His ears had the slightest pink to them, enough to be laughed at. "You mad at me or something?" he asked, distractedly snatching the hem of his sleeve from a catch at the edge of the desk. Finn's eyes touched her smooth cheek, guided toward her coffee brown orbs by the masterful curve of her cheekbone.

"I..." He lost it. It flew away and hid. "I'm sorry."

Sparroe had finally gotten into the book when she heard the portrait open. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, not knowing what to do. Now that she was distracted from her book, her thoughts floated back to...Finn?! Wait, was she imagining his voice?

Her head popped up and she looked around, eye widening when she spotted him coming over to her. Oh geeze. She squirmed in her chair and tried to wipe the stupid looking grin off her face. It wouldn't budge. She probably looked totally stupid.

She giggled when he spouted her name, blushing a bright pink. "Finn.." She said, staring at him. He sat down next to her and her eyes followed him. "I..uh..I'm sorry." She said, looking down at her lap.

"Wait. Why are you sorry?" She asked, looking back up at him. Her eyes wandered to the arm that was draped over her book and she smiled, her hand finding his. She locked their fingers together and leaned back in her chair, wondering what he was saying sorry for.

"Wait? Why are you?" he gasped self-consciously angling away from her in a kneejerk reaction to her apology. Was he that bad of a kisser? Dread locked its tenfold of painful vices around Finn and made him hate the sound of such a regretful tone coming from Sparroe. What in Merlin's name was this feeling and why did it have to hurt, embarrass, and scrutinize? Weren't Slytherin girls for that? "I'm...I guess I'm not. Not really." He stammered, unconsciously touching a troubled palm to his forehead and resting it there to TRY to rid himself of this headache.

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not sorry. At. All." His lips were gloating around the word. "I kissed you." The big honking elephant reduced size as Finn left his shelter, much to the horror of his conscience and faced the Big Kahuna, Sparroe's eyes. Dead on. "I kissed you and mind you, I meant every waking second of it." Passion flooded his words, the inner torment horrified that Finn Kher was finally doing something about the hormones.

It wasn't until the sound carried painfully far and wide that he realized it. He'd slammed his hand against one of her books. More so, her fingers now healed the pent up energy by stealing his attention, wrapping themselves around his unworthy wrist and soothing him. She was unbelievable. "What are you sorry for?" he repeated, smiling triumphantly at his confessions. A soft sigh whooshed between them. "And please tell me it isn't about how I feel about you."

She squeezed his hand gently, staring down at their hands. "I dunno what I'm sorry about, but I felt bad about how I handled your kiss. It seemed that I made you feel bad or something. Or, that's how it seemed to me. I didn't make you feel bad, did I?" She asked, looking up into his eyes. Her heart fluttered and she blushed a slight pink.

"How exactly do you feel about me?" She asked, raising one of her eyebrows. "I'm surprised that you haven't shoved me away from you and gone off to find another girl." She shrugged and jumped slightly as he hit her book.

"Hey now." She said, sliding the book out from under his arm. "Don't hurt my book."