i s o b e l
Isobel did not sleep. She did not cry, did not move - just lay in her mother's bed, facing the window; watched the sun travel across the sky as time slowly passed.
The sun dipped, and night fell. It rose, and she lay still.
The sun rose, as it had every morning for her entire life and as it would continue to, every day. It seemed strange to her that the earth was still turning. It seemed strange that lives carried on as normal outside of her house, when her own had just been ripped apart.
When her father had died, her heart had shattered. She had felt, for a long time, that she would never be happy again, that she would never smile or laugh or be able to enjoy anything. Her focus on caring for her mother had pulled her through that time. She had gotten out of bed everyday, made meals and cleaned, all for her mother's sake. Together they had learned to live with the pain of missing her father and eventually, began to find moments of happiness again.
Now, she didn't have anyone left to get out of bed for.
So she didn't. She lay still. And when the light became too much, she pulled her blanket over her head to block it out.
Because Draco had been with her in the immediate moments before and after finding out about her father's death in sixth year, she could not remember those moments. She could not remember what she had felt or thought, could only remember arriving home into her sobbing mother's arms. She didn't know if it made it better or worse that she could barely recall the moment that she was, in a sense, reliving.
She had lost all three of them, now. And this time, she really didn't know if she could be happy again.
Her concept of time fell apart. Minutes felt like hours, and hours faded inseparably into one another. She had no desire to get up, no desire to leave the house or even the room. All she wanted was for her mother to walk in, to take her in her arms and tell her everything would be alright.
Isobel watched the sun sink again. At some point between dusk and dawn, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
-
She was awoken by the sound of the front door clicking open.
Isobel listened to the person move through the house, their steps slow and uncertain. When the footsteps reached her mother's room, a knock sounded and she sat up in bed. "Yes?"
The door opened, and Blaise stepped into the room. Isobel rubbed at her eyes. "Hi."
"Hi." Blaise moved from the door to the desk in the corner. He sat down there, warm brown eyes scrutinizing Isobel intently. "I'm so sorry for your loss," he said. "And I hope it's okay I'm here."
"Did Draco send you?"
Blaise nodded. "He wrote to me on Christmas day, explaining everything. Instructed me to wait a few days before visiting you, to give you some time alone."
Isobel curled her fingers into the duvet cover. "Has Lucius erased his memories?"
"Yes. He wrote to me just before it happened."
She released a breath, tried to swallow the lump rising in her throat. "Okay."
Blaise hesitated. "Is that really what you wanted? For him to forget you?"
She nodded. Refused to meet his eyes, focused instead on the duvet clutched in her fists. "It's better this way," she said. "For both of us."
"But you were happy together," said Blaise, tentatively. "I'm sorry - I know now is a horrible time to argue this point, but he's crazy about you. And there are some obstacles, yes, but I do think you could work things out."
Isobel voiced aloud the words that she had repeated over and over to herself in her head. "It's not that simple," she said. "It doesn't matter how much we like each other. As long as we've been together, things have kept going wrong. We wouldn't have worked -"
"And you think Draco and Astoria will?"
She met his gaze, confused. "Of course. Don't you?"
"I don't know," said Blaise. The lines of his face were taut with tension. "His parents will keep interfering, for one thing. They'll do that regardless of his circumstances."
"Yes," said Isobel. "But it'll be easier for him. He has a straightforward, complete path paved out for him. I can't hold him back from that."
"Well," said Blaise. "He asked Astoria to marry him. So I guess if you don't do anything about it, that's the path he'll take."
Isobel looked away. She felt her shoulders slump, felt tears rise to her eyes once more, but she had expected this - she had chosen this. When she spoke, her voice was small. "What did she say?"
"He asked her on Christmas day," said Blaise. "They'd been talking about the engagement the entire night, and both of their families were gathered around them when he proposed." He paused. "She said yes. If he'd asked in private, she might have had a different response, I don't know."
"Did she tell you all of this?"
"She came to me in tears," he said, "the next morning. She's terrified because days ago Draco would barely look at her and now he's intent on marrying her. Obviously, after all of the plans the two families have made for the marriage, and with the amount they've talked about it, it would have looked strange if she'd turned him down. But she'll call it all off if you want her to."
"No," said Isobel, though the tears stinging her eyes said differently. "Of course I don't want her to."
Blaise raised a shoulder in a feeble shrug. Isobel realised for the first time how very tired he appeared. "Astoria wants to marry him, doesn't she?" she asked. "As far as I understand, she was quite set on that."
Something unreadable flickered across Blaise's expression. "She did want to marry him, yes. But that was before she found out about you."
"Then they should marry."
Blaise sighed heavily. "Well," he said, "it's your decision. But for the record, I hope you change your mind."
He stood from the desk chair and removed a small parcel from the pocket of his coat. He handed it to her, before reaching back into his pocket.
The parcel was lopsided, knotted hastily with a piece of string. "I don't know what's in there," said Blaise. "He sent it to me on Christmas, and asked that I pass it on to you. He also instructed me to give you these, which I've been holding onto for a while now." He held out a small vial, filled with glistening silver strands.
Isobel took the vial from Blaise and held it out in her palm. "His memories," she murmured. "Thank you."
"He also told me to contact Ginny Weasley," said Blaise. "He said to fill her in on everything, so that she'll be able to take care of you and that. So if it's alright with you. . ."
Isobel was shaking her head. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the vial of Draco's memories, her stomach knotting at the thought of Ginny trying to talk her out of her decision. "Please wait a while," she pleaded. "I can't speak to Ginny, not yet."
Blaise nodded and accepted her plea, just as reluctantly as he had accepted every other argument she had made in the last ten minutes. When he left, she watched him go, holding Draco's memories in one hand and the parcel in her other.
She held the vial of Draco's memories up to the light. After the war, she had spent so much time longing for the things erased from her mind to come back to her. She had wasted hours sitting on the couch, trying to elicit any recollection from the void where her memories had once existed. When she had finally approached Draco and slowly had gotten to know him, that desire had faded. It was replaced by the new memories they were making; the Draco she knew now.
She would once have given anything to watch these memories. Now, for fear of the sadness that would inevitably accompany them, she wasn't sure she wanted to watch them at all.
She turned her gaze to the parcel, and stared at it for a long time. She had an idea of what might be in there, but it was the looming sense of finality that frightened her. These would be the final words Draco would speak to her. And everything would be said and done, and their story would be over.
She stood, and walked on weak legs to the kitchen. She forced herself to eat, and to drink some water, before returning back to her mother's room.
She sat on the bed and with shaking hands, unravelled the string and opened the parcel.
A scrap of parchment, her star necklace and a second vial of memories toppled out. She looked at them one by one. The scrap of parchment was Draco's half of the letter she had found in her mother's cupboard. On one side were the opening lines of his letter - the letter that had started everything, all of this. On the other side was her own writing, asking him to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron.
She had pressed that scrap of parchment into his hand in the middle of the night. Had Apparated home with a speeding heart and not a clue of what might be coming their way.
Her eyes flitted over the broken necklace and the vial of memories. She placed them on the bed beside her. Then she flattened the letter that had been folded around the objects, and began to read.
My dearest darling love,
Should we never meet again, there are a few things I would like you to know.
Firstly, you are the love of my life. In this life, what came before, and whatever comes next. It has always been you; it will always be you.
The day that we visited your mother in St. Mungo's, she gave me this vial of her memories. She told you everything she knew, there will be no surprises. She said she would very much like you to have them when the time came.
I've asked Blaise to give you my memories, too. I'm sorry that I didn't show them to you immediately. I knew that you would inevitably see parts of me that you didn't like, and I was afraid those parts would scare you off. I was afraid of losing you again, but it seems that has happened anyway. So here are my memories, the good and the bad. It is a comfort to me that while I won't remember you, you will finally know our entire story.
I'm also including the necklace. I know you don't want it, but it is safer in your possession. I am afraid that if I come across it, unable to recall its significance, I'll throw it away. I hope you don't mind holding onto it for me.
If I forget you now, I will most likely marry Astoria. If I don't know you, my mind will see no better option. Should you have second thoughts and decide you would like me to know you after all, feel free to crash our wedding.
The first time I lost you, I thought I would never recover. The world felt dark and dreary, and I didn't want to exist in it without you. When you came back to me, I swore I would never let you go again. It is inexplicably painful to walk away from you now, by choice.
I love you. That is something no one can take. Even if I don't remember you, my heart will belong to you, forever.
It has been an honour to know you.
Love, Draco.
p.s. Your turn to write to me is long overdue. Though I imagine I might be a little confused if I receive a letter from you now.
Isobel swiped at the tears that had fallen. She read the letter through a second time, and then once more. Then she padded to her own bedroom and removed her half of Draco's first letter from underneath the floorboard. Sitting on her mother's bed, she placed the pieces of the letter side by side, and waved a silent mending charm. The parchment sealed perfectly, as if it had never been torn.
She placed the two letters, the two vials and her necklace carefully on the bedside table. She pulled the duvet back over herself and lay facing them. They were remnants of her time with Draco, evidence of him. She would hold onto them forever.
She fell asleep in the daylight, longing for the feeling of his hand over hers.
-
A few more days passed, swept by in a blur, before Ginny visited. She arrived just as Blaise had: by letting herself into the house and searching through its rooms until she found Isobel.
Unlike Blaise, Ginny didn't sit at the desk. She climbed right into the bed beside Isobel and wrapped her arms around her. "You're a mess, Iz."
Isobel hadn't cried since reading Draco's letter. But at the sound of Ginny's voice, at the feeling of her embrace, her warm arms - she dissolved into tears.
Ginny tightened her embrace and ran her palms lightly, consolingly, across Isobel's back. When Isobel calmed down, Ginny pushed her curls out of her tear-streaked face. "You're going to be okay," she whispered. "Even if it doesn't feel like it right now."
"I don't think I will be okay."
"You will," said Ginny. "Eventually, you will."
Isobel sniffed. "Did Blaise write to you?"
"Yes, he did," said Ginny. "I thought Malfoy writing to me was strange enough. But now I've received letters from both Malfoy and Zabini, and I swear the world has turned on its head."
Isobel let out a weak giggle. "It's over now," she said quietly. "You won't receive any more."
"You and Malfoy will find your way back to each other, Iz," said Ginny, and Isobel was momentarily startled by the fierceness in her voice. "You have to."
"No, we won't -"
"I love you," said Ginny, "and for that reason, I refuse to let you do this to yourself."
"We won't," repeated Isobel, more firmly. "We never would have worked in the first place, the world was against us. And now my mum is gone, and the reason she's gone is because of a necklace he put around my neck -" She felt her face crumple again. "We're from different worlds, and I can't go back to him. I can't - I've made my decision -"
"Okay," said Ginny gently. "Then at least get yourself out of this miserable house. I swear, every time I walk in here I feel a hundred times sadder."
"Nowhere to go," mumbled Isobel.
"Rubbish," said Ginny. "You can stay with Harry and I, as long as you want to."
Isobel shook her head. "I can't," she said. "Not yet - please, just give me time."
To her surprise, Ginny took her back into her arms and did not press her any further. "Okay," she whispered. "Take as much time as you want."
For hours Ginny sat with Isobel, rocking her lightly in her arms, in near-silence.
When she left, Isobel turned her face into the pillow. She wept bitterly.
-
Several weeks later, Isobel was able to get out of bed, was walking to the kitchen of her own free will and making herself meals. A few weeks after that, she ventured into the back garden; dug her shoes into the icy grass and breathed in the cold air.
She missed her mother immensely. She thought of her with anything and everything she did.
But she missed Draco, too. She missed him so much it hurt; that her body ached with the pain of wanting him by her side.
It was not that she hadn't expected this. Was not that she hadn't expected every second to hurt.
She had contented herself with the knowledge that he was leading a life where all of the jigsaw pieces fit neatly together; that he was with a woman who did not bring pain with her love, but still. The thought of him walking through a world where he did not know her was excruciating.
The sun continued to rise and fall, and she continued to think of him.
-
love u, thank you for reading. the final chapters will be up in the next two weeks <3