i s o b e l
Isobel watched Draco walk away from her, back to his apartment. The twinkling, coloured Christmas lights that hung around the St. Mungo's reception trailed him, moving over his hair as he left her.
"See you tomorrow," he had said, one shoulder against the reception wall; hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans.
Her breath had caught; a hundred suggestions on the tip of her tongue; come with me, wait for me, let me sleep on your couch tonight, rather than alone in my quiet, comfortless house -
But she hadn't said it, and neither had he. And then seven o'clock had come, and she'd had to go. See you tomorrow, Draco.
Never before had that sentence carried so much weight. She wanted a hundred tomorrows with him, but there wasn't even the certainty of one.
When Isobel arrived at Maggie's ward, Maggie was sleeping. This was no surprise, but still she felt a twinge of disappointment. She sat, watching the steady rise and fall of her mother's chest, the fragile, greying skin of her face. Her mind was in the cottage on the beach.
She had not told Draco how perfect it had been, how incredible - what a dream it was to sit by a window that looked out over the sea.
It had been derelict, yes, but how easy it might be to rebuild the walls, to mend the furniture and source new what couldn't be fixed; to clean and repair the glass of the window with the flick of a wand. How thoroughly it fit with everything she wanted from a home.
But then, he probably knew that already. He knew her.
She sat beside her mother for the full two hours, but Maggie did not wake. She slept peacefully and barely stirred.
At nine, Isobel stood to leave, arranged the flowers on her mother's bedside table and placed a kiss on her cheek, when her mother's thin hand curled around her wrist. "I can't do it."
Isobel paused. "What's that, Mum?"
But her mother mumbled something incoherent, turned her face away, and Isobel stared at her; can't do what -
She placed a hand on her mother's cheek and instantly, Maggie recoiled from her touch, flung her head backwards and opened her eyes and stared at Isobel; "Don't hurt her."
The door of the ward opened, and a nurse's voice rang out. "Visiting hours are over."
"Wait," said Isobel, turning to the nurse. "Wait, she's telling me something -"
The man gave her an impatient look, but stepped away, and Isobel turned back to her mother -
"Lucius."
Isobel froze. "What? Mum, what did Lucius do?"
Again, Maggie showed no indication of hearing her daughter. Isobel's mind raced.
She stepped forward again, tentatively placing a hand on her mother's shoulder. "Mum?"
"They can never be happy together," whispered Maggie. Then her eyes rolled back, and her body began to convulse.
Isobel stumbled back. "Help!" she yelled, looking desperately around her for the nurse. "Somebody help, please!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, nurses flooded the ward. Isobel was pushed from her mother's bedside, which was quickly crowded by men and women in lime-green robes, pressing her mother down and shouting orders, and Isobel's eyes had flooded with tears -
