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."
