Presley danced into the room and dropped her bag by a front sort of seat. She read the instructions, and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. This was a great idea and all, but with all of the teachers doing this, Presley was never going to have any spare parchment.
She neatly dilineated. She wondered briefly if she should have left off the princess part. But it was already written and couldn't really be undone. Besides, she was sort of the little favorite..right? Well, she got along well with more than a few older students. And everyone in her year that was in Ravenclaw. So it was pretty safe to assume that nobody in her own house would begrudge her the word. She organized all of her parchment, quills, and ink in nice straight lines, and she was ready to begin.

Except for that she'd just noticed that her third finger nail on her right hand had a chip in the paint. She couldn't fix it now, she was in class. There wasn't enough time! And Pres was OCD enough that she wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until it was fixed. Nothing at all. It wasn't that she really was that shallow to care so much about her appearance, it was that something was wrong, out of place, broken. It shouldn't be like that. It was like straight lines. It wasn't perfect, and Presley had to be perfect. In studies, in appearance, in intellect, in sports, Presley had a driving need for perfection. And this finger nail was imperfect.