i s o b e l
She felt utterly empty. When Draco enfolded her in his arms and Apparated, and the curling trees and countryside house materialized in front of them like dust collecting, she felt as though she were merely an empty body. Numb and hollow and all out of tears, she stood, looking at the house built on love and lies.
It was bitterly cold. The air was dry and still, and the sun glowed brightly on the horizon. But the cold crept over her skin like frost, biting at her cheeks, her nose, the tips of her fingers -
It all felt like a dream. A film playing out in front of her, unendingly. There was no way of going back – of reversing choices she had made and taking another path so that things might be different, now. There was no way of undoing what was done. And Isobel could not believe her mother was gone, and this was it now, and that there was no option of experiencing life any differently than this.
She whispered a summoning spell under her breath, and watched as her silver necklace lifted from the ground and glided towards her. She handed it to Draco wordlessly, then sat on the cold porch step.
Draco sank down beside her, pushing the necklace into the pocket of his jeans. "Belly," he said quietly, "it's freezing. Let's go inside."
Isobel could hardly hear him. She looked back to the sunrise, vibrant and golden against the clear sky. It was too beautiful. It was not right.
She felt the weight of Draco's gaze on her face. She allowed her eyes to flutter shut, and silently tried to construct sentences from her feelings. Tried to unravel the knot of words that tangled in her heart.
She felt his fingers thread into hers, felt him raise her hand and press a kiss against it. "I'm sorry," he said, his breath soft and warm against her cold skin.
She looked at their entwined fingers. She had once felt that their hands melded together perfectly; that they fit together like two halves of a whole. Now she wondered what his hand would look like wrapped into Astoria's, instead of her own.
"You're not going to like what I have to say," she said, finally.
Draco blew out a low, even sigh. "Go on."
"I think that my mother and your parents were right," said Isobel. She felt unexpectedly composed. "I think they've been right this entire time. I don't think they went about what they did in a good way, and I don't think they should ever have interfered with our relationship to the extent that they did. But when they said that our relationship does more harm than it does good - they were right."
Draco's hand had tightened over hers. "You're in shock," he said, gruffly. "You're not thinking straight, Bel."
She shook her head. "I am. I know that they were right. And I think you know it, too."
"I understand that you're angry at me for putting the necklace on you," said Draco. "I don't expect you to forgive me for that."
She paused. Her eyes traced his slender fingers, the way they curved over hers. "That's not what this is about."
"I'm sorry that your mother is gone, I really am," he said. His voice was unsteady. "And I'll be here for you – I'll do whatever you need from me -"
She raised her gaze to meet his, and her bottom lip trembled with the first glimmer of emotion she had shown since arriving home. "Look at us," she whispered. "We're miserable. So much has gone wrong in our lives, and it's all been a consequence of our relationship."
"But it's been other people that have messed it up; it's been our parents -"
"I know," she replied. "But I think what we haven't been understanding - what we've been getting wrong this whole time - is that it's not just us, in this situation. Other people are inherently involved in this and will continue to get involved, whether or not we want them to."
