i s o b e l
Ginny waved an Alohamora at the door of the building and left Isobel in the lobby. Isobel walked slowly up the stairs, the weight of the day's progress heavy on her heart.
By the time she reached Draco's apartment, she was already crying.
The weight of five days' worth of heightened emotion had finally built up; was finally taking over and spilling out, and she could no longer push it away. Could not, for a minute more, pretend that she wasn't gasping for air in a world that seemed so determined to drown her.
For so long now, she had disregarded the blur that had taken the place of her memories of Draco. Had pretended it wasn't reality; had moved forward and ignored it all under the assumption that it wouldn't be her permanent future. But now she had, in a matter of minutes, confirmed that that was exactly what it was - that there were years of her life she was never getting back, ever - and she was wiping tears from her cheeks and stumbling in through Draco's door, feeling that she couldn't fucking breathe -
d r a c o
He had seen her coming from his window: had watched her walk back down the street, Ginny Weasley close by her side. The same window from which he could see the street corner where she had stood for weeks, suspicious and untrusting; looking at him and trying to fit together the puzzle pieces of her own mind. The window where a tiny white snowdrop lay, untouched, on the sill. He had not yet told her that it was all he had left from their life before.
Before. . . everything. Before this. Whatever this was.
Belly knocked and pushed open the door at the same time. He turned to her, and he realized she was crying. He looked into her tear-streaked face, and within seconds was by her; taking her into his arms and holding her tightly to his chest.
"I don't -" she said, pressing her forehead into his chest and choking out sobs - "I can't -"
He held her closer, threaded one hand into her hair. Wondered if she could feel his heart, thudding in his chest. Wanted desperately to know what it was that had upset her so, who it was; but forced himself to remain silent.
Belly slid her arms around his middle, hugging him back. "I'm sorry," she said, voice muffled by his jumper.
"Shut up," mumbled Draco.
He slid his hands around to the backs of her thighs, picked her up, and carried her to the couch. Dropped onto it, with her.
"Sorry," she repeated, pushing hair from her face. "Sorry - I'm crying again - it's just a lot -" She paused; red-cheeked, puffy-eyed - then lifted a hand and ran her fingers along his jawline. Despite her tears, her lips tilted up into a half-smile. "Draco, you look furious."
He could not make himself laugh. "I just want to know if there is someone I need to murder."
"No, no one." She looked at him, and her eyebrows knit together, and tears welled in her eyes again as she choked out, "I don't deserve you."
He laughed then, at that. He couldn't not laugh. How ridiculous it was for her to say she didn't deserve him.
He looked at her: her dark eyes, reddened from crying, the tears caught between her eyelashes; the wetness on her freckled cheeks. The way she sat facing him, legs curled underneath her. How fucking insane it was, he thought, that he was lucky enough to have had her brought back to him, to have her curled up here in his arms, and that she didn't think she deserved it.
