i s o b e l

Isobel Apparated to London the following day. She could not allow herself to wait any longer, for fear of losing the courage Ginny had inspired in her.

It was strange to be on this side of the road. Draco's apartment building seemed suddenly very big, as she climbed its stairs - much more intimidating when she wasn't stood in the comfort of her shaded street corner.

The building's glass doors were locked. On the adjoining brick wall were small columns of numbers and buttons, which she assumed made up a kind of muggle doorbell system for the apartments. Of course, she didn't know Draco's apartment number, and had no desire to ring one of his neighbours. So, she glanced around her to check that nobody was watching, waved a discrete Alohomora at the lock, and pushed her way into the apartment building.

The building's lobby was a small, dimly-lit space, crowded with rows of wooden post-boxes. Isobel moved quickly across it towards a narrow stairway, not allowing herself time for hesitation.

If Draco's apartment was on the third floor, directly over the apartment front doors, that meant taking a right after the stairs.

Which meant - that this was his door, here. Secluded at the end of the third-floor corridor. Rickety, white, wooden - and so terrifying.

Isobel took a deep breath. She hadn't a clue of what she should say to Draco; had been to afraid to plan it out. She had hoped that once she saw him, the words would start flowing, but now she wasn't so sure.

She dropped the hood of her coat.

She was wearing makeup for the first time in a long while, which felt heavy on her face, now. Also, it had taken her over an hour that morning to pick out an outfit - all to meet a boy she couldn't even remember. She had no explanation for that.

Except for - what if Draco took one look at Isobel Young, and decided he didn't want her anymore?

"Be brave, Gryffindor," she mumbled aloud. Then she raised one fist, and knocked sharply on the door.

And nothing.

She knocked again. Minutes passed - or possibly, very long seconds - but nothing happened. Nobody came to the door.

He wasn't home.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. It had taken her months to gather enough nerve to speak to him, and for the first time in all her visits to his apartment, he wasn't there.

A door swung open behind her and she turned quickly, half expecting to see Draco emerge. But instead a kind-faced, curly-haired woman smiled at her, lingering in the doorway of a neighbouring apartment. "Hello," said the woman. "Can I help you?"

Isobel hugged her coat around her, feeling self-conscious. She nodded at Draco's door. "Do you know if he's home?"

"The boy that lives in that apartment? He just left, actually, around twenty minutes ago. I don't know him," said the woman, by way of confession, "but I heard him go."

"Right," said Isobel. "Okay. I'll just go, then -"

"Are you a friend of his? Girlfriend?"

Isobel felt her face heat up. "Yes. I mean - I'm a friend. You've never met him?"

"Never," said the woman, contemplatively. "And he's lived here for over a year. It is so strange, you know. I've met so many of the other neighbours, but he and I keep missing one another."

Isobel bit her lip to hide a smile, thinking that they might not have missed each other quite as many times as the woman believed. Or remembered. She turned to the stairs. "Well, it was nice to meet you."

"Oh, you too," said the woman, sounding disappointed. "What's your name?"

Isobel paused, one hand on the stairway's railing. If Draco's neighbour bumped into him before Isobel managed to find him, she might mention that Isobel had been there. And Isobel didn't think that was something he should hear from a neighbour.

She could erase herself from the neighbour's memories, as Draco had clearly been doing. She could, easily. But given that her own memory loss was causing so much misery right now, to use Obliviate on the woman would feel very wrong. She didn't think she could bring herself to do that.

Facing the stairway, she combed through her mind for another blonde-haired person in Draco's life, that she might get away with passing for. "Daphne," she said finally, turning back around. "Daphne Greengrass."

The woman beamed. "Well, it's nice to meet you too, Daphne. I'm Emily."

"Could you tell him I'll be back tomorrow? Or. . ." She tried to remember if her mother worked on Thursdays. "Friday, actually. If you see him, could you tell him I'll be back on Friday?"

"Sure," said Emily. "You don't have his number?"

"Number?" repeated Isobel, confused.

"His phone number?"

Isobel tried to think back to Muggle Studies in Hogwarts. She wasn't quite sure what this meant, other than that it was a form of communication. "No," she replied, feigning nonchalance. "I don't have that."

Emily's brow knitted in concern. "Okay. Well, he never leaves for very long, if you still want to catch him today. I mean - as far as I can tell." She looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I can hear his door open and close from my apartment, that's all, so I've come to notice his schedule. I'm not, you know, a stalker or anything." She laughed.

Isobel said nothing. It occurred to her for the first time that while Draco had never noticed her from his apartment, his neighbours easily could have from theirs. Not Emily, clearly. But perhaps she wasn't as invisible as she often felt.

"What I'm saying is," continued Emily, "if you wait here, I can't think you'll be waiting all that long."

Isobel nodded. "I suppose I could wait around for a little while."

Emily stepped back into her apartment. "If you do end up leaving before he gets back - I'll let him know you'll try again on Friday."

"Thank you," said Isobel. "Really, that's very kind of you."

Emily waved her off. "You Brits," she said, smiling to herself. "Always so polite. Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you," echoed Isobel, as Emily closed the door.

She sat at the top of the stairs, facing a large window that looked out over the back alley of the building. She watched the sky turn dim there, as the sun went down over the city. Winter days were short and claustrophobic. She rested her head in her hands, closed her eyes for just a second -

Then a tapping sounded from the window. An owl was perched on the narrow window ledge; a scrap of paper folded and tied to one of its legs.

Isobel slid open the window. She prayed the letter was from Ginny; groaned when she recognised her mother's slanted writing.

Isobel,

Where are you? I've been home for over an hour.

I hope this owl finds you quickly. Come home this instant.

Isobel cursed under her breath. She threw one last glance at Draco's apartment door, then pulled her hood back over her head. She hurried away down the stairs, out of the apartment, and into the street.

Her mother was not supposed to be off work yet, she had been careful with that. Even when her mind drifted off into thoughts of Draco, she was always aware of the time. Always made sure to get back to the house well before Maggie.

It was just after five, and the street was filled with hurried, hassled workers making their way back to their homes. She moved through them as quickly as she could; weaving through bodies; trying to come up with a good excuse for why she hadn't been at home -

And hit right into a person's chest. Into a big, black hoodie.

"Sorry," she said quickly, moving away from the person, away to the alleyway from where she could Apparate. She glanced back over her shoulder -

And saw a white-blond head bobbing away from her, into the throng of people. Back to his apartment. She had bumped right into Draco, and he hadn't even noticed.

She stopped in the street, looking back at him. She decided, spontaneously; instinctively; that her mother could wait. But as she stepped back towards Draco, a voice spoke from behind her. "Isobel Young."

Isobel's stomach twisted. She turned slowly, disbelievingly, and looked into a pair of very cold eyes. "Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius looked down at her. She couldn't remember ever speaking to this man, but felt she knew him. Felt the fine wrinkles around his eyes were new; felt their animosity was familiar. Voice laced with malice, Lucius said, "A word, Miss Young?"

They stepped into the alleyway that Isobel had come to think of as her own. Always deserted, always sheltered from weather and from people. And now Lucius Malfoy was looming over her, shrewd and calculating. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised to see him here; should have guessed that where Draco went, his parents still followed.

"Where have you come from, Isobel Young?"

"Stupid question," she mumbled. Her cheek, chest and right hand had all collided with Draco's body: she could feel him there still. Energy coursing over her skin. She pulled away her hood; gave Lucius what she hoped was a defiant look. "I'm not telling you where I live, that's for sure."

"You don't live at your old house in Surrey," said Lucius. A thin smile curled across his face. "Oh, yes, I've been. I needed to make sure my son hadn't left any important possessions there. You know, family belongings. . ." Isobel did not know, but she glared at him nonetheless. "Lovely house," he continued. "Nice and, well - cosy, shall we say? Rustic?" His smile grew. "Tell me - whyever did you move out?"

She stood as far away from him as she could; back against an alley wall. "That's none of your business, Lucius."

"It is, actually," he replied. "Because my son has been rather devastated over the fact that you don't live there anymore. Or should I say, the fact that in his mind, you don't live anymore."

Isobel's heart beat fast. If someone had tampered with her memories, it apparently hadn't been Lucius Malfoy.

"I know for a fact that my son believes you are dead," he continued, his voice smooth. "He does now; did when I saw you in Diagon Alley two months ago. So tell me, why is it you have continued to allow him to believe this?"

Isobel said nothing. Staring back at Lucius; not breaking eye contact, took everything she had. But she couldn't allow herself to back down.

"Well - your mother is back at work in St. Mungo's," he said. "If you refuse to fill me in - I suppose I could always ask her."

"Leave my mother out of this."

"But why should I leave your mother out of this," said Lucius lightly, "when I suspect she had everything to do with this?" He smiled again. "Oh, how very fun this all is."

"If you'll excuse me -" Isobel made to leave. But Lucius caught her arm; clamped a hand around it. Dropped his smile.

"I'll let you leave in a moment," he said; voice soft. "But before you go, you should know one thing. My son is getting married to Astoria Greengrass, very soon. She was in Slytherin house, and comes from a family that has had experiences in life that are similar to our own. She is a good match for Draco, and he is very fond of her. And it would make things much easier for all of us, including you -" he moved very close to her then, looking down at her over his nose - "if you stayed out of it."

He stepped back then; a faint trace of pink on his pale, narrow face. His breath fogged the cold, night air. "Good evening, Miss Young."