i s o b e l
one hour before
For a while, it was bliss.
Stumbling with her friends through cobblestoned lanes: laughter loud and conversation slurred, the years between them dropping away. As if they were schoolmates again, young and careless; this time without school rules and authoritarian teachers.
They had been so kind. Harry, Ron and Hermione; kinder than she could have dreamed they would be, more understanding and empathetic than she had ever hoped for.
It was a strange thing, to be back with friends after having been alone for so long. In the months she had spent on her couch, staring out of her window, she had worried that isolation might rid her of all social competencies; that she might forget how to pick up on social queues, how to make jokes, how to listen and get all of the timings right. But she had been silly to worry, for it had all flowed so naturally - sitting with her friends at a round, wooden table, glasses of cider and beer between them - it had felt right. It had felt safe.
Harry and Ron had gone straight into training as Aurors, after the war. Hermione had gone back to Hogwarts to complete her NEWTS exams, and now had a job at the Ministry, working for the rights of magical creatures. Off saving the world, of course - Isobel should have expected no less. She supposed she should feel bitter; or sad, at least, that she had missed out on such opportunities. But to see them all again brought her enough joy.
They had parted with hugs and kisses, promises to see each other again soon, strict instructions to be kind to herself.
In her mind, the night had been coming to a close. Her adrenaline had been wearing off; the coldness of the December night had begun to bite at her skin. Her mother had been in the back of her mind for the entire night but now Isobel could not stop thinking about her; worried relentlessly that Maggie might have woken up, might have realised Isobel had left her.
She was altogether ready to go home. Which was why it had taken her by surprise when Ginny had kissed Harry's cheek, grabbed Isobel's hand and tugged her away down the pavement. Had whispered in her ear: "We're not done here yet."
-
ten minutes before
Isobel felt blinded by the strobing neon lights. They flashed everywhere around her: on the club's walls, the floor, the writhing bodies that formed the dense crowd; everywhere. On the ceiling in the centre of the room hung a disco ball: the lights bounced from that, too. And when Isobel squeezed her eyes shut she could see them still, dancing on the backs of her eyelids.
Draco Malfoy was in this club.
She had seen him gripping the counter at the bar, unsteady on his feet. Surrounded by a throng of faces that she recognised from Hogwarts; all older now, all drunk.
She needed to find Ginny. Perhaps it was the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream, the fogginess in her head, the fear at having to face him. But she needed to speak to Ginny, first, before she faced Draco.
The problem was, Ginny had entirely disappeared. After convincing Isobel to come into a random club in a dark corner, a small lane of London; to end their night with a few more songs, a few dances - she was gone. Isobel had walked the length of the nightclub, combed through the smoking area and dancefloor, but Ginny was nowhere to be found. And Isobel had a good idea of why not. Suspected the club was not quite so random as Ginny had made it out to be.
The bathrooms were her final resort. A wide set of stairs rose from the dancefloor, leading up to the bathrooms. Isobel stood on the highest stair, scanning the crowd for a small girl with flaming red hair. But Ginny was not there. By the bar crowded a group of Slytherins - Isobel recognised Adrian Pucey, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini. And of course - Draco: the centre of their attention. He stood stoically in their circle; clutching a whiskey glass in his hands the same way Isobel had seen him clutch his tea. Not one of them noticed her at the top of the stairs, looking down at them.
