dear draco,

twenty-seven

Dear Isobel,

You know I can't say much, so I hope you understand.

We were wrong about your father. Someone I was talking to - I can't say who here - told me everything. I'll tell you when I see you. He was a good person, Isobel.

I hope you don't feel guilty that we questioned him. I know I do (it kills me) but we shouldn't. He would only have wanted us to be happy we know the truth.

See you soon love, I'm lonely without you.

Love, Mum.

I drop the paper onto my plate, my hands shaking. When I look up, Ginny, Neville and Luna are staring at me. "I-" My voice is unrecognizable. "My- my Dad was good. He was a good guy, he didn't die attacking muggles. I think he was trying to help them."

"That's great!" says Ginny, breaking into a smile. I slump forward in my seat. "Isobel, why do you look so upset? This is amazing!"

Around us, people are having breakfast - our second last before the Christmas holidays - chattering away, oblivious. I stare at my letter. "I can't believe I doubted him."

Ginny hesitates. "Don't say that."

"Is your mum sure?" says Neville. "It's definite?"

"Yeah." I pause, trying to collect my thoughts. "And all this time, I actually believed he might have been a bad guy." I put my head in my hands. "Oh my God."

Neville rubs my back. "Hey, it'll be okay," he says. "How were you supposed to know? I'm sure your dad would have understood."

"But I should have trusted him. When I found out he'd been hospitalized, I said that he would never try and hurt anyone, never mind innocent muggles." I try to swallow the lump in my throat. "I should never have questioned that."

"And at least you know now," Ginny offers. "At least you know for sure and can stop questioning it all."

I sniff, horribly aware that the three have never seen this emotional side of me before this year. "I guess you're right. I just wish I could apologize to him, you know?" I shake my head. "I'm sorry," I say dismissively, swiping away tears. "Great conversation for breakfast, right?"

"You can cry if you want to," says Luna. "It's okay to be upset."

"Whatever makes you feel better," says Ginny gently.

"Thanks guys," I say, desperately willing the conversation to end before I burst into tears. "At least we have that party tonight, right? That'll be fun."

With uncertain looks at each other, Ginny, Neville and Luna begin to talk about the party that is to be held in the Gryffindor common room tonight. Soon, they are whispering excitedly, discussing how Luna is going to get into the party and different ways to ensure it will disturb the Carrows.

I think about my Dad and how much I miss him, and the way that even though I miss him so much, with everything happening right now I probably don't miss him enough. And how I wish I could see him just once more, just for a second, just to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doubting you.

When I look up, Draco is staring at me all the way from his table, unwavering.

-

Twelve hours later, the land is dark and Gryffindor's party is in full swing. The common room is filled with students of all ages, dancing and chattering excitedly, eager to have a reason to forget everything. Eager to pretend they're not utterly miserable. That the world hasn't come to a standstill.

Shimmery strands of silk in all shades of red loop around the ceiling and walls. Every table is filled with bright plastic cups and bottles upon bottles of firewhiskey. In the fireplace, flames roar, enhancing the warm, red glow. There are few better ways to piss off the Carrows than showing Gryffindor pride.

"Hey, Iz."

Ginny is at my side, clutching a cardboard box, her eyes alight with excitement. Her hair, I notice, is the exact same shade as the fire I've been watching. "Hey," I say, staring at the box.

Ginny holds it up. "This is Devil's Snare," she says proudly. "Or something like it, Neville can explain it better. We're going to go cover the Carrows' classrooms with it. We might do some DA graffiti as well while we're out. You know, one last time before Christmas."

"Oh. Okay, cool. I'll join."

Ginny squints uncertaintly at me. "Are you okay?"

I wrap an arm around Ginny's shoulders, wishing I could find the words to express my appreciation for her, or the feelings I'm not sure I feel. "I'm wonderful, Gin," I lie. When I turn around to face her, I realize she is eyeing my cup of firewhiskey. "You can't judge me for this," I say, holding up my cup.

"I know," says Ginny. "And I'm not. But I think it would be safer if you stayed here. You know, just in case we got caught."

I nod slowly, too intoxicated to care that my best friend thinks I'm emotionally unstable. My world is buzzing. "Okay."

"I'll see you later," says Ginny. With a squeeze on my hand, she is gone.