i s o b e l
It was almost one in the morning. Isobel sat on the steps of Draco's apartment building, shivering into her coat.
They had spent most of the day in a park, talking for hours, blowing foggy breaths into the winter air and watching crowds pass by. When the cold had gotten too much, they had walked back to his apartment and had takeout and wine on his couch. And she had, the entire time, hardly been able to tear her eyes from him.
Draco had left her at St. Mungo's, once again with his word to see her the next day.
Her mother had slept through the visiting hours again, but this time there was no sleep-talking; no more incoherent mumblings. Isobel had clutched her hand for two hours, sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair and willed her mother to get better.
When she got home, the silence was overwhelming, the loneliness heavy on her heart. She had paced around the house, necklace clutched in her fist, thinking that tomorrow wasn't enough. She wanted to see Draco now. If the threat existed of forgetting him at any moment, she wanted to make the most of the moments they had left.
She couldn't give him everything he wanted. Not yet. The sight of him in the cottage plagued her; standing in a door frame, pale face stricken with misery. She wasn't ready to give him the life that he longed for, but they could at least make the most of this one.
When it reached midnight, she Apparated back to his apartment, thinking that surely he would be back from the bar by now. But she had let herself into his building and knocked on his door for a few minutes, and there hadn't been an answer. So she sat outside on the steps, waiting for him in the cold. Heart beating fast; excited to look into his grey-eyed gaze once again.
He showed up long after she did, shock of fair hair visible from a whole block away. She watched him approach, chin in her hands, elbows on her knees. Wished desperately that she had just trusted and approached him months ago, so that they might have had just a little more time.
But when Draco reached her, he didn't look happy. He stopped metres away from her, said, "You shouldn't be out here alone."
Isobel stood. "Hello to you, too."
The streetlights around them cast sharp shadows across his face. "You should be inside."
She frowned. "You weren't home, so I was waiting for you."
"Next time, just go in," he said, scowling. He walked past her, pulling his key from his pocket. "That's what everyone else does."
"I can't just walk into your apartment if you're not there."
"Yes, you can," he said. "I'm giving you a key. Wait inside, next time."
She scoffed; watched him unlock the door and shove it open with a shoulder. "Did something happen at the bar? Something made you angry and now you're taking it out on me?"
He didn't reply. Just held the door open for her to go in; his back to her.
"Listen, if you don't want me here, I'll go -"
Draco turned back around to her, one hand on the door, the other clenched into a white-knuckled fist. "Go in, Belly."
"No, I won't," she said, lifting her chin. "Not if you're going to act like this."
He raised his eyes to the starless sky. For long moments they stayed there, and she was about to argue further, about to say something else to wind him up even more, when his gaze drifted back to her. "If you need me to beg, I will."
She felt her cheeks burn. For a tense few seconds, she stayed where she was, glaring at him, then grumbled, "No, I don't need that." She pushed past him, into the building's lobby. "I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said, tonelessly. "You don't remember, but that's a common line from you."
Isobel's temper flared. "You can't expect me to know that. And I can take care of myself."
He rolled his eyes and turned his back on her; took the stairs two at a time.
She hurried after him. "I don't need you to protect me, and you can't be my bodyguard simply for the sake of putting your mind at ease."
"I don't want to be your bodyguard."
"Then I don't see the problem."
"The problem is," he said, stopping on the stairway and turning to face her, "you sitting in a dark street on your own. Given that you won't wear the necklace -"
She groaned. "How can you still hold that against me?"
"I don't hold it against you," he said sharply, "and it's not surprising in the slightest. But your mother is sick regardless, so I wish you'd just put the stupid thing on. I'm sure she'd want the same."
Isobel glowered at him, but he looked at her blankly; his expression almost bored. "Fine," she spat, swivelling. "If you're going to be like this, I'll just go home." She stomped back down the stairs, refusing to look back at him. "Forgive me for wanting to get out a bit, after being locked up for a year and a half -"
Before she could go any further down the stairs, his arms were around her waist and he had lifted her over his shoulder.
She stared at his back; felt him take the last few steps to his apartment. "Draco -"
"I forgive you," he said, and she felt him shift his weight as he unlocked his door, one arm wrapped tightly around the backs of her thighs. "But I'm afraid I can't let you go."
She gritted her teeth. "Put me down."
She felt a tremor run through Draco's body, and realized that he was laughing. "All in good time," he said, entirely nonchalantly.
He raised a foot, kicked the door shut behind him and dropped her onto the couch. She sat up, seething with anger; looked into his amused expression with disgust.
The lights were off, but street lights shone through the window, casting hazy shadows around his apartment. In the dim light, she saw him crack a smile. "Now that we've made ourselves comfortable, would you like anything to drink?"
"No."
He sank into the couch beside her, lifted one foot to his knee and began to untie his shoelaces. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she felt her face begin to warm again.
"No, thank you," she amended, disgruntledly.
Draco's smile pulled at the side of his mouth. "Who's sulking now?"
She sighed, pushed her palms over her knees, let her anger burn out. "Is this our way?" she asked. "Is this how we act around each other, just - clashing all the time? Bickering?"
His smile faded. "No, it's not our way. Only over serious things."
She nodded slowly. This was serious enough to clash over; she could accept that. "What happened at the bar?"
His expression darkened. "Doesn't matter. Astoria showed up, and everyone was making stupid jokes." He kicked off his shoes. "About the wedding."
Isobel felt herself soften. "Does she know yet? That I'm alive?"
"No," he said. "But Blaise and Theo know, and they were being dickheads about it. Trying to see how far they could go with the marriage jokes."
"I'm sorry."
"They were just trying to be funny."
"You should tell her," whispered Isobel. "Astoria. If you don't want to marry her, she deserves to know."
"Not yet."
In the low light, she saw his jaw clench. Without meaning to, she reached out a hand; traced her fingertips along his jawline. His eyes flickered back to hers, and she dropped her hand, embarrassed. But she could not drag her eyes from his. "Are you tired?"
"No," he said. "You?"
She shook her head, feeling nerves twist in her stomach. "I didn't think about that before coming here," she told him. "That you might be tired. And that, like, it's past midnight. I don't know what I expected."
He turned to face her, his attention entirely hers; but said nothing.
Isobel was aware that she was speaking out of nervousness, aware he was probably well-acquainted with this embarrassing habit of hers. But she couldn't stop herself: "I suppose I was afraid that I might fall asleep and then wake up and not remember you at all. I know that's probably not realistic, but if all of my memories of you were taken from me now -" Her eyes skipped back and forth between his - "I would be upset about that, I think." She took a shaky breath. "Very upset, actually."
"I wouldn't like it much, either," he said, and his words were wry, but his grey eyes were tense with nerves. Somewhere between them, his hand found hers, and his fingers intertwined with her own.
"But I wouldn't know that they were taken, of course," she told him. "And that would make it even worse. Because I wouldn't know what I was missing."
His hand tightened on hers. "Let's make the most of the night, then."
"Before we have to fall asleep?"
"Yes," he said, lips curving back into a half-smile. "Whenever that might be."
She smiled back at him, cheeks warming, and silently wished for a way to never fall asleep again.
-
d r a c o
one hour earlier
Draco hadn't wanted to go to the bar, he had wanted to stay home and wait for Belly to visit her mother and then have her attention be his again.
For a while, it hadn't been all that bad. But Astoria had shown up a few hours after he had, unannounced. Blaise had pulled in a chair for her and Draco had sat crammed between the two of them; had felt Astoria's cold, calculating gaze follow every move he made.
He hadn't wanted to be there in the first place, and it made it all worse to see his friends' eyes follow the pair of them, to watch them stifle their laughter, to listen to Theo make thoughtless jokes about their supposed marriage. To feel a stab of discomfort every time Astoria mentioned something to do with the wedding.
When he had finally excused himself to leave, she had followed him out of the bar, stormed after him with pursed red lips. "Is something wrong, Draco?"
The temptation to ignore her and keep walking was strong. But he stopped, turned back to her in the busy, cobblestone lane. "No, nothing."
"Then why are you so quiet? Why are you leaving so early?"
He gritted his teeth. "Because I don't want to be here any longer."
"Is there somewhere else you need to be?"
He thought of Belly, probably sound asleep in her house by now. "No," he answered. "I just want to go home."
"I haven't heard from you in days," said Astoria, her eyes filling with tears. "Nothing - and when we finally see each other, you can hardly spend an hour with me. Is the idea of marrying me so depressing to you that you can't even face me?"
Draco winced. "No," he said. "No, nothing like that -"
"Then what is it? What have I done to make you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you, Astoria -"
"Then tell me!" she said, her voice shrill. "Because I am doing my very best to make this work, and am getting absolutely nothing in return!"
He shook his head brusquely, turned away from her. He hadn't wanted to marry her a week ago, but now it was no longer even a possibility. Not when Belly was alive. If he had ever intended to marry Astoria, if he had ever thought it possible to settle for such a relationship - that idea was gone now, replaced only by thoughts of Isobel Young. But if he told Astoria that, she would tell her parents and they would tell his.
"Is this what you're going to be like for the rest of our lives?" she asked him. "Ignoring me whenever you see fit?"
"Astoria," he said, and he saw the glisten of a tear on her cheek. He shook his head again. "I'm sorry. We'll talk about it at Christmas."
He had no idea what he would say to her at Christmas, when the Greengrasses came over for dinner. But he would at least have a few days to think of something.
He was well aware that he was using her. Well aware that it would be easier to convince his father he didn't know about Isobel, if Astoria remained under the impression that they would be married. Nonetheless, it made him feel sick to string her along.
The rest of the Slytherins stumbled out of the bar then, arms slung around one other. One by one, they noticed Draco and Astoria standing there, and their chatter faded.
"Lover's quarrel?" asked Adrian, grinning. But the question hung and died in the cold air, and the group's expressions quickly turned uneasy. Theo looked at Draco, mouth slightly open as if to say something; as if on the verge of uttering an apology for the jokes he had made earlier. But he hugged Pansy to his chest; shrugged helplessly.
Astoria choked out a sob and rushed away with her face in her hands; Daphne on her heels. Pansy gave Draco a curious look, then detached herself from Theo and followed after them.
The silence was tense.
"Everything okay, mate?" asked Blaise.
Draco scoffed. "Yeah, everything's perfect, thanks."
At the end of the lane, Astoria stopped by a wall. Pansy and Daphne threw arms around her shoulders; brushed hair from her face. In between their fussing, they threw furious, pointed glares back at Draco.
He rolled his eyes, felt fury burn in his chest. Turned to the remaining Slytherins, who looked uncomfortable.
"Sorry, mate," said Theo, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "The jokes I made back in the bar - about the wedding. . . They might have been a bit out of line."
Draco turned his back on his friends and stalked off, but footsteps quickly sounded behind him. "Malfoy."
He kept walking. "I don't want to talk about it, Zabini."
Blaise appeared beside him. "Malfoy, just tell her."
"Not a chance."
"You're not being fair to her, mate," said Blaise. "She's fully under the impression that you're going to marry her."
"That's how it needs to be."
"It's not fair, though."
"Life's not fair," spat Draco. He kept walking. "Nothing terrible is going to happen when Astoria finds out we're not getting married."
"Except that she'll be pretty upset about it."
"Oh, you marry her then, if you're such a bloody saint."
Blaise was silent for a while, and so Draco stopped, whirled around and prepared to hurl another scathing remark at him. But Blaise was already a small figure far down the street, headed back in the direction of the others.
He glared at Blaise's retreating back for a long while. Then he turned his back on them, and walked home.
When he got back to his apartment, Belly was sitting there on his apartment building steps with her chin in her hands, waiting for him.
-
He couldn't be angry at her for too long. It infuriated him to see her sitting out there in the dark, all on her own. But he found such comfort in her presence that he couldn't help but laugh at her stroppiness; couldn't help but realize how much he had missed her quick temper.
The streetlights shone dimly through his windows, filtering through Belly's curls of hair and casting strange shadows on the walls. Even with her there, in front of him, guilt gnawed him as he remembered the way he had snapped at Blaise; the way he had turned his back on his friends and lied to Astoria. He could see no solution for any of this, except to forget about it all for as long as he possibly could. To spend as many hours as he could with Belly tonight and ignore whatever was going to come in the morning.
-
The shop on the corner of the block was open twenty-four hours, so they headed there first. Draco made sure to grumble about having to put his shoes back on after he just took them off, and Belly made sure to tell him that he was being a brat.
The small, dingy shop was entirely empty apart from the young cashier on night shift, on the verge of falling asleep at the cash register. Belly and Draco walked down the aisles with no particular aim, pulling faces at one another over the tops of the shelves.
They eventually bought a bottle of red wine and headed to a nearby park, where they could lie on the grass and look up at the starless sky.