I miss the way you looked in the morning, the way you smiled with tired eyes... Good morning, I love you. Goodnight, I love you... How your bones fitted perfectly against mine. I miss you so, so much.

-

As usual, when Christmas ends and the new year begins, everyone is filled with a false sense of hope. Like writing a different date at the top of our many assignments will allow for change in the world. The first day of a new year isn't any different from the days before it, but students swarm back into Hogwarts with a refreshed sense of determination, and a refreshed hatred for the Carrows and Snape.

I am waiting, waiting for news, waiting to know that Harry has made progress in his disappearance. To defy all the people who claim he has fled; who call him a coward. Waiting for a day that I am sure will come, but it might be tomorrow, or it might be years from now. The not knowing drives me crazy. But with Dumbledore dead and Harry gone, the only thing we can turn to for hope is ourselves. I didn't realise that until now. We have that power.

These days, what I am also waiting for is Luna's return. On the train home before Christmas, Death Eaters came on board to take her, because of her dad's anti-Death Eater approach in the Quibbler. Ginny keeps insisting she's probably at home now with her dad, but if she was, she would contact us. Just a word to let us know she's safe. Luna at home with her father is a nice idea, but I know in my heart it's not true.

"I keep hoping she'll pop up at breakfast one day," I say to Ginny and Neville as we head out to the Great Hall. I picture Luna waiting for us at one of the long tables, smiling and serene. But days keep passing by, and the time that she's been gone is only getting longer.

"Do you think she's..." Neville pauses, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Do you think she's still okay?"

I shudder. "I don't want to think about it."

Ginny bites her lip as we climb out of the common room. "I know it's horrible to think about," she says. "Poor Luna. But she's probably locked up somewhere, and I think we should do our best to find her and get her out. She'd do the same for..." Ginny trails off. I follow her eyes on the bottom of the staircase, where Draco leans against a pillar, looking nervous. His hair is more unruly than I've ever seen it.

I nod awkwardly to Ginny and Neville, whose worried expressions have turned into ones of spite. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

I've managed to avoid Draco for the past few weeks, looking away whenever his eyes lock onto mine, staring at the floor whenever he passes by. I may also have turned around to hide when I saw him approaching. Once or twice.

But as I approach him, I know by the grim expression on his face that there is no escaping what I'm about to hear. "We need to talk," he says finally, watching me approach.

I try to look confident. "I don't think we do."

"Yes, we do," Draco replies evenly. His eyes are watchful, intimidating. "What you did before Christmas was wrong, and you can't do anything like that again. Okay?"

"Oh, so it was entirely my fault?" I ask. "If you didn't keep leading me into situations like that-"

"That was all you!"

I scoff. "You should get your head out of your ass."

Draco doesn't flinch. "And you should stop turning to alcohol to fix your problems."

"Excuse me? What I did was a drunken mistake, but that doesn't mean I'm a raging alcoholic-"

"Drunken mistakes don't exist," Draco says roughly. He's rattled too, I can tell – his brow is furrowed and his foot taps against the ground. "Not unless we are drunk to the point where we don't know what's going on, which you were not. I know you meant what you said, and you need to stop meaning it."

"I don't-"

"You've been doing this for years," he continues. "You say things you don't mean; you put on a cold front to hide your feelings." He pauses, and I know we're both thinking of this time two years ago, when he had gotten so frustrated with me for not owning up to my feelings for him. I almost want to laugh at the memory - I had thought things were so hard back then. Draco's jaw clenches. "When you're drunk, you can't mask those feelings."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" I ask angrily, praying he can't tell I'm on the verge of tears. "If you're just here to embarrass me, I'd rather leave."

"I want you to stop loving me."

I pause. Draco's hair is in his eyes, his cheeks are pink and I never – never imagined he would say something like this to me. "What?"

"Stop... Just stop loving me. Okay?"

"I don't love you-"

"You don't hate me."

Heat rises in my face. "How would you know?"

"Don't play around, Be- Young. You're putting on this ridiculous cold front, and I know there's something-"

"There's nothing!"

"Stop lying-"

"Fine," I say, so suddenly that I even catch myself off guard. "Fine. I hate that you're a Death Eater and I hate the people you're with and the side you're on, but I don't hate you. I've tried to hate you - believe me - but I keep thinking about all the things you never told me and how little I really know, and I don't have the right to hate you for that. And I'm tired of pretending I do."

When I break off, Draco is staring at me like he's never seen me before. "That's not how you were supposed to react," he mumbles.

"Oh," I say awkwardly. "How was I supposed to react?"

"You were supposed to hate me again," he says. He tugs on the strap on his bag, as if looking for something to do.

"I don't think I ever really hated you, Draco."

Draco looks at the floor immediately. "Don't say my name."

"You can try to make me hate you," I joke, trying desperately to ease the tension. "Say some mean things, quick."

Draco's lips quirk upwards; the ghost of a smirk; and I feel a sharp pang of nostalgia. "Careful, Young," he says, and I think - I think - I hear a hint of sarcasm; "or I might have to deduct house points."

I stare at him in delight, barely unable to contain the excitement rising rapidly inside of me. I haven't felt this kind of hope in months, almost years. He is smiling too; maybe not his lips, but his eyes crinkle up in a joy I had almost forgotten. "Does this mean-"

"Isobel?"

The moment dies as quickly as it arrived. Ginny and Neville have returned, and are waiting by the entrance to the Great Hall, looking at me expectantly. Draco is wearing a sudden expression of - worry? Regret? He brushes past me, away from the Hall. "Bye," he mumbles.

"What was that?" asks Ginny, as soon as I've stopped staring at his retreating figure. Had we had just a moment longer, I could have known how he feels –

"Isobel," says Ginny again. Neville is still glaring in Draco's direction. "Are you talking to him again?"

"Not really," I say slowly, my mind still on Draco.

"Well, you shouldn't," she says. "I really don't think it's a good idea-"

"He doesn't either." His words ring in my head. I want you to stop loving me.

"But why does he think that?" says Neville. "Why did he want to talk to you in the first place?"

I pause, trying to find a way around this that doesn't involve telling the truth. How do you explain loving someone you claim to hate? Finally, I say admittingly; "because maybe... He might – somehow – have gotten the idea that I still having feelings for him."

I rush the last part, so it takes a moment before they register my words. "Do you?" asks Neville incredulously.

I pick at my nails. "Maybe."

Ginny and Neville burst out with equally loud exclamations of protest. People around us stare.

"Are you serious?" says Ginny.

"Oh no," I say lightly. "I just thought it would make a funny joke."

Ginny rolls her eyes at my sarcasm, but Neville's concerned look doesn't falter. "Isobel – you can't," he says earnestly. "We're supposed to set good examples – what will the rest of the DA think?"

I hesitate. "Isn't it more important what I think?"

"I can't see what you feel for him," says Ginny. "But if you don't want to mess up – everything – then you should stop feeling it."

"Oh yeah?" I reply coldly. "Well, you should stop acting like you know what's best for me."

Ignoring their pleas of apology, I whirl around and stalk off, away from the Hall. Suddenly, I understand Draco better than ever.