Isla was sitting in the common room. The fireplace flamed in front of her as she lowered her sight onto her book. Reading at the late hour in the lack of being able to sleep.

Not wishing to be awake in her room in the middle of the night, she didn't want to wake Leo up as he finally rested.

After Theodore left her in that classroom earlier that day — she went to look for Leo, and she found him crying on the floor of their bathroom. Isla spent the entire night comforting him, holding and hugging him to sleep.

Her heart was shattering for her friends, and she was struggling right with them. Mila had shut him out, closed the door, and refused to open it as he so desperately craved to talk to her. He'd been trying to reason with her for hours, but she didn't let out as much as a word.

It crushed the boy to pieces. He didn't know what to do or what words to speak in order to fix this, but it wasn't about him lapping it together for her. For Mila, this was about saving him.

She so hopelessly believed she was shielding him from getting into more trouble. She hoped that if she spaced herself — no more harm would fall upon the boy she loved so deeply, but never did she understand that it caused it to feel worse.

Leo was scared, terrified to be sent to Azkaban for being in love. He tried to think of every outcome possible to rescue them both, but nothing stuck to him. He was facing charges for loving her and for robbing all the attention away from her duty to pick between her choices.

Mila didn't want to choose. She wanted to be with him. Barely had she even talked to the two boys appearing on her own letter at the beginning of this school year, all because she was head over heels in love with Leo. But that wasn't an option anymore, not since his sister had turned them in.

Feeling frustrated and beaten, Isla huffed out, flipping the page and studying the loopholes in the book of laws she read. She tried too. She had gone over that book probably three times in just a few hours — scanning paragraph after paragraph, word following word to make out something she could work with but nothing. The bylaws stood set in stone, and nothing could be done to cave it.

Too consumed in her misery being held for her two friends, she failed to hear the boy stepping down the stairs, leaning his shoulder against one of the walls, and he watched her.

It wasn't until moments later when she rolled her neck and shrugged her shoulders to ease the tension she felt — her eyes snapped to the blond, and she screamed out.

Slamming her palm across her mouth, she muffled the sound. Draco merely laughed out at her, amused that he caught her off guard.

''Malfoy—'' Isla breathed, feeling shivers as they pathed down her spine, ''What are you doing here? How long have you been standing there for?''

Snickering, he cocked his head, looking far too smug, ''Not long,'' Not wishing to expose that he'd been standing there for a while, taking in the girl he couldn't quite figure out, ''Don't flatter yourself, Clarke.''

''I wasn't—'' She frowned, lowering her book and sighing, ''Why aren't you sleeping?''

Her question caused him to squint, slightly and he forced a dry look, portraying unbothered, ''That's really none of your business, is it?''

Raising her brows, she rolled her eyes, looking away from him and his proud self, ''Well, don't come down here and scare me then.''

Draco hummed, quietly and he pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered up to her, dropping down onto the far edge of the couch. He tried to get a glimpse of what she was reading, ''I think the real question here is, why are you up so late?''

Putting on a cocky look, Isla shook her head, making her hair fall over her shoulders, ''That's really none of your business, is it?''

''I see,'' Draco dragged his sight from her, gazing right at the fireplace instead, ''Then I guess it's not.''

''I guess it isn't,'' Stating it with pressure in her tone, she stared back at her book, trying not to smile at the fact that he'd been seating himself next to her again.

Isla knew it wasn't much, but she sought so hard to see the small things he did. She understood more now. She realized what she failed to notice before, and it caused it to be easier to understand him. He wasn't much for affection, not because he didn't want to show it — but because he truly didn't know how to do so.

Malfoy was with Pansy all those years, and he lost her. He didn't believe that his ways of loving Pansy would function to make it work with Isla. To make her see that he's trying and suddenly without really realizing it himself — he was lost.

Feeling more than bad that she'd missed to heed it earlier, her insides cracked. He wasn't cruel. He wasn't evil. He was simply lost and misunderstood, which caused the blond to act out, do things he didn't mean, and fight everything and everyone. Not that it was an excuse for how he'd treated her, how he lied and how he'd spoken, but it felt to her as if she saw it clearly. She tried so hard to grasp it now — to give the boy a fair chance of doing better and to do better herself.

''If I can't know why you're not in bed at two in the morning, can you at least tell me what you're reading?'' Draco kept his sight hooked on the fireplace, sounding nonchalant, yet he truly wanted to know, ''Why you're not cuddling up to that boy you're living with?''

''Really?'' Isla slammed her book shut, looking right at him with dashes of confusion as it stained her eyes, ''What is it with you and thinking everything I do with everyone else is sexual?''

Pushing his lips together, he scowled at the fire, the warm light of it glinted at his skin at the gloomy hour, ''I don't think that.'' He said, pushing his palms into the sofa and propping himself up.

''But that's all you say, and that's all you mean,'' She was speaking calmly, not wanting another fight to bash between them, ''I just want to know why — oh?'' Her lips arched as she watched him.

''What?'' Snapping his neck, Draco met her playful stare, ''What the fuck—''

''You're jealous.''

Blinking quickly, his face fell, and the shade of it paled as his cheeks heated, ''I'm not—''

''Oh, but you are,'' Isla chuckled, squealing at the pillow he threw at her, ''Stop—''

''I'm not fucking jealous, Clarke. What is it with you and flattering yourself?'' He grimaced, rolling his eyes away from hers as he placed one of his ankles over his knee, ''Why would I be jealous of that prick?''

''What?'' Isla smiled cheekily now. Enjoying herself as she mocked him, ''You don't want you, Theodore, and me to sleep in the same room?''

''Oh my fucking—'' Draco growled, aiming another pillow at her, ''You're nasty.''

''I didn't even—''

''Fucking disgusting, Clarke. Yeah, because all I want is to hear and see you two get at it all night while I try to sleep—''

''It's not like that,'' Isla hewed him off, making him quiet down and looking at her wide-eyed, ''I told you yesterday... It's not—''

''What?'' Draco questioned, not sounding as pleased anymore. Dragging a hand through his hair, he scratched the back of his neck, ''You're not together?''

''Draco...'' Isla huffed out a whisper, and she saw how much the asked question troubled him. Remembering the talk she had with Theodore earlier that day. How he wished for her to give Draco and their relationship a chance as well, ''No, we're not.''

''Sure,'' He muttered, crossing his arms as he sunk into the backrest of the couch, ''Is that why you two were standing in the middle of school, kissing for everyone to see?''

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Isla felt so guilty.

''After what I told you? In the lake? You just run to him every chance you get, and what? I'm just supposed to stand by and watch it? I saw him carrying you away, and I don't even want to think about what the two of you were doing—''

''Draco,'' Isla called out for him again, silently, but he only hushed. He didn't look at her. Feeling desperate, she forced her palms into the furniture, and she inched herself closer to him, all the way until she was sensing his body pressed to hers.

He frowned at her, looking over his shoulder as if she was some crazy person, and he only tensed more as he felt her hand grabbing his wrist, and she wrapped his arm around her.

''I'm not with Theodore, and I'm not with you,'' Isla said, tilting her head to his chest. She closed her eyes, ''I need to get to know the both of you, and if I'm doing that — you need to try and be less mad at me for being in love with him.''

''I'm not mad—''

''You are mad, Draco. You're always mad at me, and you can be mad if you want to, but then I can't get to know you, because all we do is fight,'' She whispered, her own arm tucked around his chest, ''If you're not comfortable with this, with me following the law and learning my way around you two, we don't have to do this. I don't want you to feel like you have to do this, Draco. You're free to walk away.''

Malfoy stayed silent, but his body gradually caved into hers, and instead of a tensed arm around her, he loosened it, and he held it there because he wished to do so.

''I can't choose,'' Isla mumbled, ''I can't choose, and perhaps that's selfish of me, not choosing, but I can't. I don't want to, and I will never be able to, especially not now.''

''Why aren't you choosing him?'' Draco asked, genuinely curious, but he still sounded so severe. ''You spend so much time with him, and you're in love with him, Clarke. It's easy for you to choose.''

Smiling into his chest, Isla arched her neck, looking up at him. His eyes paralleled hers, and she melted on the spot. There was always something special with how Draco looked at her, ''Do you think it's possible to be in love with more than one person?''

Draco studied her, mesmerized at the way she was acting. How she'd nestled herself close to him, how she was talking and how they for once — wasn't fighting each other.

''I do.''

Isla hummed, ''Are you still in love with Pansy?''

His blood iced, and he knew she didn't mean anything bad with what she'd asked, yet it felt like the worst insult to him, ''What the hell is that supposed to—''

''You don't have to answer,'' Isla scanned him right back. The sound of sparkling fire mirrored around them, ''If you don't want to — you don't have to answer.''

He wasn't. Draco had let go of that attachment. He would probably always love Pansy, but he wasn't in love with her anymore, and it caused him to feel sick. Not understanding himself as he let that one person who meant the world to him go — only to find someone who would mean so much more than that.

''I got your note.'' Isla saw how much he was struggling with that question, how his mind battled, and how he felt terrible for not knowing what to say — and she didn't want him to slip from her again. She finally found a little piece of him that she could hold onto. He wasn't angry and violent, he was calm, gentle if so for a little while, and she'd do anything to keep it for as long as she could.

Gritting his jaws, he tried so hard not to look away. To keep her eyes with his. Some part of him didn't want to let her go. He adored holding her as he did now, ''Yeah?''

''I'll always listen to you,'' Nodding, Isla stretched up a bit, and she leaned her forehead on his chin, giving him the comfort she thought he'd need, ''I hope you know that.''

''Don't—'' Draco pulled away, staring blankly at the fire again as she withdrew. Isla looked at him, confused and not clear at all anymore, ''Don't pity me. I don't need it, and I don't want it.''

Shoving herself back on the sofa, she tipped against the armrest on her side, drawing the blanket over her body, ''I don't pity you,'' She sighed, and she pathed the book up to her lap, ''I admire you.''

That shook him. 

It caused a cloudburst to shred through him, but never would he show it. Never would he put on display just how much her words urged him to feel, and he fought to allow himself to feel what she brought, yet somewhere he couldn't.

Draco didn't think he was worthy of love.

''You should do that more often,'' Isla yawned, sinking down and lifting her book so that he couldn't see her anymore, ''Admire yourself. You're not as bad as you think, Draco.''

Glaring at her from a distance now, he scoffed, rolling his eyes, and in a slow move for once — he gripped her ankles resting a foot away from him, and he placed them on his lap with a mutter.

Isla barely noticed, pretending to read as she in secret behind that book filled with laws and rules, fell asleep.

It took him almost an hour to realize that she wasn't reading anymore. He stretched over to her, still with her legs in his lap, ''Clarke—'' He whispered.

Without a response, he gently grabbed the book, bringing it to his own lap as he fiddled with the pages. Reading through everything she marked.

Malfoy couldn't quite understand why she was going out of her way to help her friends. It was far past midnight when he caught her, and she tried to keep her eyes open for as long as she could in order to help them. Feeling guilt as it leveled, he began to read himself.

Seeing how she'd been going through page following page — over and over to look for hidden clues and words that were secretly unseen between the lines, Malfoy did the same.

All night did he sit there with her legs on his lap, keeping him warm, and he tried to help.

_____

Isla jolted. Her body felt like it was on fire the very second she sensed an arm tucking around her, pulling her inches closer.

She was lying on top of someone, and it caused her to panic because she never did that.

The nights she'd spent with Theodore after Christmas, sharing her bed with him almost every night — he usually slept on top of her. Not minding Theo's way of sleeping at all, she did the opposite. It felt like he needed her when he slept in that way. His head on her chest or nestled into the soft spot between the crook of her neck and her shoulder.

But now — now Isla slept on top of someone. Terrified to open her eyes, she began to think and wonder what she'd done before falling asleep, and the second she recalled the blond boy — her whole self cringed again.

Flaying her lashes wide, she peered up at him, having no clue to how he'd ended up underneath her. The dimmed lights from the lighted candles on the walls almost burnt out at the early hour.

She laid there for a minute or two — just looking at him from below, his arms weighed on her spine, but she didn't mind. She didn't spare it as much as a thought. Only flickering her sight to see more of him, she scanned the twitching eyelids, the resting brows, how his hair was tousled.

Draco Malfoy was truly beautiful, she believed.

''Don't look at me.''

Isla dipped her chin, burying her whole face in his chest as the shame from being caught grew red upon her cheeks, ''I wasn't—''

''Oh, but you were.'' Draco smirked, his tone low and raspy, causing her to gulp on her words, ''It's rude to stare, Clarke.''

''I didn't stare,'' She mumbled, feeling how he tensed his arms over her spine, groaning within the flesh of his mouth.

Peeling his lids broad, he rolled his eyes at her, ''You don't stare as much as I'm not jealous.''

Isla pushed back, sitting up on top of him and not really grasping how she was straddling him now, ''See,'' She smiled, her hair messy, ''I told you — you're jealous.''

''And you're...'' He shifted slightly, not truly pleased with how she was seated on top of him. The position she didn't think of caused him to grow impatient, ''Move—''

''What—''

Arching his back, he shoved her away from him, carefully, ''I can't have you on top of me, Clarke.'' Muttering, silently, ''Not like that.''

''I'm sorry—'' Isla frowned, confused until she saw how he fixed his pants, covering them with a pillow, ''Oh?''

''Shut up,'' Draco spat, annoyingly, and he grew frustrated at her mocking, ''Don't even—''

Snickering, Isla shook her head, ''Draco, it's alright—''

''It's not my fucking fault you have to sit on top of me, fucking hell, Clarke. Just shut that damn mouth of yours,'' Lowering his voice, he rushed his hands through his hair, peering around in the yet empty common room, ''You need to brush your teeth—'' Trying to take the awkward attention off of himself with an insult, he grinned.

Isla scoffed, shooting him a glare as an amused grimace climbed him, ''So do you,'' Pushing up from the couch, she brushed her skirt down, fiddling with her shirt to make herself look presentable, ''Well—''

''Where the hell are you—''

''Wait here,'' Isla was out of sight within seconds, he caught as she sprinted up the stairs, but it didn't take long until she was back, standing right in front of him with a bunch of clothes hugged to her chest, ''Here—'' She handed him her robe.

''What the fuck?'' Too early to understand a thing, he stared at her as if he'd turned into a question mark, ''Where—''

''Breakfast,'' Another smirk came across her, combing her fingers through her hair.

''It's not breakfast until eight—Clarke.''

Striding away from the sofas, she halted in the middle of the room, ''I have my ways, Malfoy,'' Isla let out through a chuckle, ''Are you coming or are you staying on that couch?''

Pausing for a mere minute, he rolled his tongue over his bottom lip, looking right at the girl, ''Fine—''

Isla led him out through the dungeons, hearing how he cursed underneath his breath as they walked. Still, he remained close. Nearly feeling her shoulder brushing against his the whole way until they reached the far end of the school, and he stopped.

''What?'' He furrowed his brows, startled that she was taking him outside Hogwarts property, ''Clarke, it's six in the morning—''

''So?'' She moved her neck, gazing at him from underneath her lashes, ''I'm hungry.''

Grunting, he shook his head, having her robe in his arms, ''You want me to wear this? It's freezing—''

Isla rolled her eyes provokingly. She pushed up on her toes, her hands traced a hat towards his head, and before he earned a chance to yank away — she threaded it on him, ''There you go.''

Smiling and pulling her jacket over her shoulders, she put on a hat herself.

''I don't like this,'' Draco looked more than displeased, and she laughed sweetly because of it, ''Stop it, Clarke. I look ridiculous. We just woke up—''

''You don't like me either,'' She pouted, tauntingly, ''And still, here you are and yes, about waking up—'' She strolled away from him out in the cold as the snow layered on the ground, ''I'm still wondering how I ended up sleeping on top of you.''

''Are you saying that you regret that?'' Draco walked after her, shoving his hands into the pockets of her robe as he shuddered, ''Sleeping... next to each other?'' He was speaking so lowly that she barely caught it. Scared of what her answer would be.

''Do you?'' She asked her question bluntly.

Grounding his stare, he kept quiet, and it ached within her — but she still tried. She sought to give him the benefit of the doubt.

They kept going in silence, Malfoy booting snow ahead of him and her hugging herself because of the weather. It was not only glacial cold but also dark at the early dawn.

As they reached the tiny bakery, she ever so visited with her mother when she was still a child, the smell of freshly baked bread and other pastries scented. Being the only shop open and in business at this hour, the rest of Hogsmeade scored deserted.

Isla aimed for the door, but simply as she wrapped her fist around the handle — he grabbed her, and he slammed her into him.

Blinking, wide-eyed and puzzled, the wind in her throat hitched, ''What are you—''

''Of course, I don't regret it,'' Draco grumbled. His heated breaths warmed her lips, ''I could never regret sleeping next to you, Clarke. You walked out on me last time, and I've been waiting to feel how it's like, having you like that.''

He robbed her of all her sanity in the way he picked his words, and her eyes met his. Her lips parted to say something, but not a word fled her tongue. She liked it too. It felt safe and sound in his arms that entire night.

Holding her tight with the grip of her arms, Draco straightened his shoulders, ''Now, go in and buy that silly breakfast of yours.''

''Draco—''

''Shhhh...'' Shaking his head, he let go of her abruptly, ''Don't say anything. Just go do what you came here for.''

It was a sudden change in his pupils. Isla nodded, doing as told, and she walked into the bakery, buying them both her favorite breakfast, sandwiches and hot chocolate. Stepping out from the shop again, her shoulders sunk.

She should have known.

Draco wasn't there anymore.

She couldn't believe that he kept doing that to her. Leaving her, constantly, over and over. Every time Isla felt like she was getting somewhere with him — he vanished, and all she could do was settle for it.

Placing the things she bought upon the bench outside the bakery, she bent down, seeing how he'd left her robe behind. Out of reflex almost, Isla let her hands slip into the pockets of it, and she felt the same thing she'd done in the pub.

He left her a note again. Shutting her eyes, the haze of her warm breaths fusing with the wintry air misted, and she sighed.

'I'm sorry.'

Those two words were all he'd penned. She could feel her heart sinking. Once again, Isla was left behind, not owning a clue to what she'd done wrong this time.

Taking her robe and her part of the breakfast — she left his out in the cold. She whispered, ''I'm sorry too.''

_____