𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐏A𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, jp

Exam Stress.

The castle had fallen quiet in the way only Hogwarts could during exam season. Gone were the loud dinnertime debates and spontaneous bursts of magic in the corridors. Now, even Peeves had toned it down. Fifth-years were hunched over books in every corner — common rooms, corridors, even staircases — and nerves clung to the walls like a heavy fog.

Isabella hadn't slept properly in days.

Her bed was covered in notes, textbooks, half-empty cups of tea, and crumpled parchment. She hardly spoke to her friends anymore — everyone seemed too stressed to talk, and when they did, it was only ever about exams. She didn't even hear them most of the time. Her head was full of spells and theories and the overwhelming, suffocating fear of failure.

She was still so behind from last year. So behind it felt impossible to catch up. She thought she had gone over everything, thought she had caught up but she hadn't, she hadn't and she was going to fail because of it.

She couldn't fail.

She wouldn't.

And so, she worked. Past curfew. Through dinner. Until her hands ached from writing and her eyes burned from lack of sleep. And tonight, like many others, she hadn't made it to the Great Hall.

Which is exactly why James Potter showed up at the portrait hole, holding a plate stacked with food.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked with a disapproving look at the way James balanced treacle tart on top of roast potatoes.

He muttered the password, and walked into the common room. He found her exactly where he thought he would: in the far corner of the empty common room, surrounded by books and cross-referencing three different Defense Against the Dark Arts guides.

"Lupin," he said, dropping the plate in front of her. "You need a break."

She didn't even look up. "Can't. I've got ten chapters left on memory-altering hexes and I haven't even started arithmency."

"Yeah, well, your brain's going to stop working if you don't stop."

"I'll eat it later James, thank you, though."

"No, come on, have a break and a chat, you need it."

She finally looked up, eyes wild with exhaustion. "James, I don't have time—"

"You do," he interrupted, sitting down beside her. "Or rather, you don't, but we're taking it anyway."

She glared. He didn't flinch.

"Eat. Then yell at me."

Izzy stared at the plate. Her stomach growled — traitorously — and with a defeated sigh, she picked up a roast potato.
They didn't speak for a moment. She ate slowly. He watched her carefully, like if he looked away she'd disappear back into the books.

"You don't have to do it all at once, you know," he said eventually. "You're allowed to breathe."

"I'm still behind," she mumbled.

"You're catching up. You're trying harder than anyone I know."

"It's not enough."

"It is," he said firmly. "And even if it wasn't, sleeping two hours a night isn't going to fix it."

She dropped her fork, leaning back with a sigh. "You sound like Lily."

"She's usually right," he smirked. "Speaking of, she nearly hexed a first-year today because they bumped into her and made her spill ink. I think she's this close to full meltdown."

Izzy laughed quietly, rubbing her eyes. "Everyone's losing it."

"Yeah, Sirius walked into Transfiguration this morning with his shoes on the wrong feet and didn't notice until McGonagall pointed it out."