thirty-one

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i s o b e l

Isobel was not sure how long she had kissed Draco. One minute, maybe ten. Maybe longer.

All she knew was that for a short, blissful time, she had forgotten the world that lived on outside his apartment walls. Had forgotten her mother, and Lucius Malfoy, and everything that they had done. Had forgotten the silver necklace that still rested in the pocket of Draco's trousers.

She had kissed him under green, glowing plastic stars, and ignored that he might possibly marry someone else within a matter of months.

And now that person was standing in the doorway of Draco's bedroom.

For a long moment, everything seemed frozen. The seconds dragged: Draco and Isobel stood, speechless. Staring at Astoria, whose eyes were fixed on Isobel.

Then, Astoria flung a hand to her mouth, and the world was set in motion again.

Draco started forward; reached out a hand to her, but she stepped away.

"I'm sorry," gasped Isobel. "Astoria, I'm really sorry."

Astoria tilted her head. Her long, shiny hair rippled with the movement. "You're alive."

"Astoria," said Draco. "Let me explain."

From what Isobel had heard of Astoria, she had a temper to match her own; responded to situations of injustice with anger and outrage. So the long, calm, expressionless look that she gave Isobel now was incredibly unsettling.

"I came back here," she said, "because I thought I saw someone in Draco's room when I left. I didn't think that person would still be here when I returned." Her eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "And I never, in a million years, thought that it might be you."

"I'm sorry," repeated Isobel. Astoria took a step backwards, threatening to run; so Isobel said, quickly, "there is so much to explain."

Astoria's face remained impassive. "You're alive," she said again, quietly. She turned to Draco. "All this time, she's been alive," she said. "So, what? This is some kind of sick joke? Against me, or against my family?"

"It's not like that," said Draco, his jaw pulled tight. "Just listen."

"Did you ever plan to marry me?" she asked. "Or was that a lie, too?"

"The engagement plans," said Draco, "were my parents' doing. Never mine. You know that, and if you give me a minute I can tell you everything you want to know -"

"What I want to know," said Astoria, a quiver of rage sounding in her voice, "is how the fuck your parents thought it was okay to marry you off when you're still in love with your ex-fucking-girlfriend. Who is supposed to be dead -"

"They didn't know I'm alive," Isobel said quickly. "Or, they did know, but then they didn't -"

Astoria's gaze shifted back to Isobel. "You're insane," she said. "You're all insane."

"Please," said Isobel. "Please, we just need you to listen -"

Astoria shook her head, her lip curled in disgust. "I'm leaving," she said.

She spun, and swept out of his room. Isobel met Draco's eyes, and a split-second later, they were both running after Astoria, down the stairs of the apartment building and into the lobby.

Together, they followed Astoria into the bitter cold. The roads were empty and silent, but for a sporadic passing taxi in the distance; headlights flooding the street and fading within seconds. Astoria's silhouette was crossing the street, her figure rapidly retreating.

dear draco, pt. 2Where stories live. Discover now