i s o b e l
For the first time in over a year, Isobel was expecting a visitor.
She was nervous. She didn't know what to say or where to start. How to explain everything that had happened since the war. She busied herself with frying an egg for breakfast, though she wasn't the slightest bit hungry.
She had been back to the street corner three times since seeing the girl in Draco's apartment. She had initially forbidden herself from returning, but three times she crumbled. She stayed for only a few minutes on each visit. A few minutes to watch him, to know he was okay. A short few minutes, but enough to put her restless mind at ease.
She wasn't sure what she wanted from Draco, but it often crossed her mind that it would be much easier if he just saw her; if he noticed her of his own accord. That way, she wouldn't have to make the decision herself. But he seemed so aloof, so stuck in his own head all the time. He looked at her, looked past her, but never saw her.
She thought about him with everything she did. Everywhere she went, everything she saw. When her mother was in front of her, he was on her mind. Now, making breakfast, her thoughts were still with him.
Crack, and the egg fell out of its shell, into the sizzling pan. Draco's white-blond hair, his big hoodies.
Crack, and the butter snapped and spattered. His sadness, his silence.
Crack, and Ginny Weasley was standing by the front door, red hair obscured by frosted window panes.
Isobel switched off the hob, fingers trembling. She had essentially lived with Ginny in Hogwarts, had seen her every day for five years. It was almost comical that she was so afraid to face her now.
The door creaked as she opened it. Ginny stood there on the tarmac, hair blowing in the wind. Sweat shone on her forehead.
Tears pricked at Isobel's eyes. "Gin."
Ginny's eyes were fixed on Isobel. She raised a hand to her chest, then dropped it again. Then said, rather astutely; "Holy shit."
Isobel reached out to embrace Ginny; wrapped her arms around her neck. Ginny leaned into the hug, but only slightly; stiffly. When she stepped back, Ginny stared at her, still.
Isobel blew out a breath. "Come in," she said, softly.
Ginny followed her through the house and into the kitchen. She stood by the table, eyes on Isobel.
Isobel kneaded her hands together. "Not like you to be so speechless, Gin."
Ginny shook her head; broke eye contact, finally. "I can't believe it's really you," she said, quietly.
The knot in Isobel's stomach clenched tighter. "Sit down, please," she said. Ginny obliged. She unwound her scarf and placed on the chair beside her; shrugged off her jacket. But she looked uneasy, still. "Can I offer you tea?" asked Isobel. "Coffee?"
Ginny managed a smile. "Oh, I'll need a coffee for this."
Isobel poured their coffee. Then she sat at the table, and took Ginny's hand. "Let me explain."
And so, she explained. She explained how her necklace had been enchanted, how the enchantment had allowed her to survive being attacked, but not without consequence. How she had been in pain for months, but felt better now. How her mother had insisted on staying indoors, in this tiny house, for as long as she could get away with. How Isobel hadn't known that all of her friends thought her dead, until recently.
