i s o b e l
She knew at once where he was going, and knew that she couldn't be seen there. Knew that if Lucius and Narcissa caught her on the grounds of the Manor that would lead to inevitable disaster, and that was not a risk she was willing to take. Being seen was not an option.
When Draco and Isobel's feet found solid ground, they stumbled. They fell together onto the gravel with their legs still tangled.
Isobel looked up, glanced at the doors and windows of the Manor. All of the lights at the front of the house were off, all of the windows were dark. She took that as a good sign. When she looked back to Draco, she found his eyes fixed on hers, panicked. He inched backwards on his elbows, away from her. "You followed me."
Her heart thudded. "You're not hurt?"
He didn't say anything, and she scanned his limbs through the dark. Blood had spilled where he had hit the ground - as it spilled over her own palms, her knees - but that appeared to be the extent of his injuries. She blew out a breath of relief. She had been sure that one of them would be splinched again.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Can we go back? Or at least away from here, somewhere safer -"
Draco's eyebrows knitted. "Who are you? What's going on?"
She sat up and looked at the blood seeping through his shirt by his elbows. She refrained from reaching out to him. For all of the time she had known him, she had been the erratic, quick-tempered one; never hiding her panic, always speaking too much when she was nervous. He had been calm - whether it was in his nature or not, he had met her turbulence with composure, had offered solace in his self-assurance. Now, she realized, she had to be the calm one. He needed her to be. With her hands in her lap, she said, "Please Apparate with me back to the wedding. Please, Draco."
He looked at her for a few more seconds, then shook his head, and her heart sank. "We can find somewhere quiet," she told him. "In the Weasley's house, even. No one will bother us."
Draco's gaze clung to the star hanging at her throat. "I don't think I'm well," he said gruffly. "My mind - something isn't right. And I don't want to go back to all of those people when I'm feeling this way."
"Feeling what way?"
He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then said, "My mind doesn't feel. . . Whole. It feels wrong. I told my parents and they said it was nothing, but it's not nothing." He shook his head, still looking at her necklace. "It feels like something is missing."
"Like a blur," she offered quietly. "Like some parts of your mind - your memory - are crystal clear, but others aren't there at all."
His gaze finally landed on hers. "Yes. Like a blur. And I also -" he scuffed the toe of his shoe against the gravel - "I'm aware that Blaise and Astoria never have much time alone. I think it'll be good for them to talk, without me there." He ran his hands across his knees, and Isobel saw that he had cuts across his palms from the gravel. "Astoria is the girl I'm supposed to marry," he said. "I'm not sure if I told you her name."
"You did."
"Right," he said. "I swear I don't usually open up to strangers like that."
Isobel's throat felt dry. "I also think it'd be good for them to talk things through," she said. "I think that'd be good for all of you."
"So we can't go back to the wedding." His eyes were heavy on hers through the dim light. "But we can go somewhere else, if you want."
"Okay." She cast another glance at the Manor windows. Then she stood, and held out a hand to him. "Will you Apparate with me?"
