This chapter contains mentions of death. Please read with caution.

I'd like to start off by saying thank you for one million reads. Thank you for loving our chaotic trio as much as I do. It means the world to me. <3

_____

Isla was sitting on the porch in the warm spring weather. Her skin was brushed with heated beams of the sun, and her cheeks started to take on a shy red color.

In her lap, she held a thick and heavy textbook filled with laws and human rights. She was studying again, reading up on what she could do for Draco.

He didn't speak of it anymore, not since he'd gotten the word that she wasn't fit to be in Fred's trial after they realized that she was his choice. Unethical, they called it. He didn't speak of it because he didn't know how to.

He'd been terrible to her once he found out she was a Weasley. They still hadn't spoken a word to each other about that. He simply showed her what he'd done to the initials on his hip, and that was it.

Yet, it didn't make her forget it.

Isla was still so determined to find out what she could do for him, what she could do for her late cousin, what she could do for them both without harming either.

She couldn't let Draco take the blame for his father's actions. She couldn't let him rot locked up somewhere because his parents weren't alive to take responsibility for what happened, for the taken lives, and for the saved ones.

She tried to read about them. She tried to find documents to learn what they'd done during the war, and they weren't bad people. They weren't bad at all.

His mother hadn't taken one single life on that courtyard. She spent those hours before death greeted her, saving other souls.

Both those who stood with her and against her. She was described as an angel, as someone who was the perfect fusion of virtue and grave. Perhaps that was what her hair symbolized. Perhaps that was why her eyes were black, dark, yet so much feeling was seen through them.

And his father, he wasn't an evil man.

He was described as if he was the devil. He was penned to paper as a wicked man with a dreadful mind, someone who would've done everything to please the Dark Lord. When he was, in reality, doing everything for his son, every act he'd executed was to make sure his son wasn't dragged into the mess he'd created.

He tried to take Draco away. He tried to make them all flee, and the Dark Lord had him locked up in Azkaban for it. The files said that his son had been caught visiting him once without permission.

It got her thinking even more. She never questioned how Draco knew the corridors of Azkaban. She never asked questions about how he knew how to break in.

That blond-haired boy had so much buried inside him, so much that she failed to see, and she hated herself for not noticing it.

She never told him that she read about them. She didn't want him to know. She just wanted to understand if he ever decided to speak about them.

Huffing out, she flipped through another couple of pages, trying to find something. She didn't know what, but she knew she'd understand once she saw it.

Theodore had left for the day. He needed to go somewhere with his mother. She wondered where he always disappeared to. He never told her. She couldn't ask. He was happy she didn't.

He'd been tired lately. His eyes had sunken into his skull, dark circles stained underneath them. She wanted to know why. He wouldn't tell her. There were a lot of unanswered questions lingering around them.

It used to bother her a lot. It used to be the thing that stopped them from feeling. It wasn't anymore. She wasn't upset with him for holding onto his secrets. She admired him for it, that he was so loyal to himself, that he trusted her with some sort of truth, without actually speaking it.

He didn't leave as much as he used to. She was happy he didn't, but once he did, he was gone for hours and hours—sometimes days at a time.

She missed him when he wasn't there. She missed him when she couldn't feel him.

She missed him a lot today. He said he was sorry that he had to leave. He said he'd be back and that he would hold her later.

He knew today was a day she'd been terrified of.

Today was special.

Today was something she feared, something she hadn't learned how to come to terms with, something she would never come to terms with.

It was something that would take time, and the time that had passed didn't matter. Her wounds weren't even beginning to heal yet.

They were still ripped open, aching and red. Nearly bleeding sometimes.

She wasn't the only one in pain today.

Draco was in pain too.

She noticed by the way he didn't speak to her. She noticed by the way he didn't look at her as he passed her by on his way to the living room and closed the door behind him.

He didn't sleep next to her last night.

They didn't wake up together. She didn't wake up nestled between them. She didn't feel Draco's kisses on her shoulders as Theodore kissed her knuckles.

He hated her today, and she allowed him to.

Isla looked out over the yard, seeing the sun reaching the top of the skies above her. Not a cloud in sight as she smiled. The sun was shining for him today.

Her Fred.

Closing her book, she left it on the stair she sat on, and she stood tall on the gravel.

Isla took a few steps out on the grass before she picked her wand out from the hem where her skirt and shirt leveled. She whispered the magic to flee through reality, and she landed on a place she barely visited.

She couldn't. It hurt too much when she did.

She had memorized where he was resting, where his siblings had chosen to put him to rest, and she walked until she could see that stone set in the ground.

She moved slowly between resting souls, and she hoped that all of them, good and bad, had reached some sort of peace. That no matter how their lives ended, what made them fade — that they were resting peacefully now.

Kneeling over the grass, she sat down in front of him. His face was printed onto the stone, his name gracefully written with his twin's handwriting.

All of their names were carved into that stone. She was there when they did it. All of them wanted him to have a piece of them, to have something of his family as he looked over them, watching and guarding them from above.

She sighed, and something bitter ghosted over her face, both something beautiful and something pained. She couldn't quite figure out what.

''Hi, Freddie...'' Isla whispered, her fingers brushed over the grass, tangling them into it. She ripped out strands off it, and she nervously rolled it between her shaking limbs.

''I'm sorry I haven't been here in a while,'' Her lips barely moved as she spoke, ''But I... I couldn't.''

The guilt flooding through her veins almost wrecked her right open.

She hadn't quite thought about it, she hadn't quite given her the time to think about it, but she did now.

Isla felt so guilty.

It was always the guilt of lying to Draco that took over, and not the guilt of what she'd done to Fred.

She loved a boy with the same name that took his life.

''I couldn't, not when—'' A hurtful pause silenced her, and tears prickled in her haunted eyes, ''Not when I feel like... I feel like I failed you.''

She could almost hear Fred speaking against her now. She was almost able to catch his vocals in the breezing wind around her, how foolish she was for even thinking such a thing, how a person can't help who they love, and how he would find a way to love Draco because she did.

''I feel like it's horrible of me to love him,'' Her voice was hushed and stained in sin, ''I feel like I fail you every time I look at him, and my heart beats a little faster. I feel like I fail you every time I touch him.''

He would be shaking her in his arms now, laughing at her for being some sort of poetic about this. He would make a joke about Draco's blond hair, and then he would wrap his arms around her a little tighter and say that she had nothing to feel bad about. That she is capable of loving, and that is all he ever wished for her to be.

Isla's tears broke in a bitter laugh, and she sighed again, ''I know you wouldn't let me say these things, but I... I can't help myself, Freddie. I can't help but to feel bad.''

She sunk further down on her knees, and she arched forward, tilting her forehead to rest against his stone, ''I wish you could've known him like I do. I know you said you didn't like him all those years ago, but... He's not bad, Freddie. I know he hurt your friends and your brother. I know he treated them horribly, but he's not that person once you get through to him.''

Feeling the chilliness of the rock crawling onto her, she closed her eyes, ''I wish you could've known Theo too. He's... He's amazing. I know you would've loved him. He reminds me of Cedric sometimes, and you loved Cedric.''

Smiling, heartbreakingly to herself, she leaned back again, looking over his grave, ''Theo would've loved you back. He's beautiful like that when he loves someone. His love is beautiful, Freddie. Both of them are, and I hate that you're not here to know them.''

The tips of her fingers ran over his name, down to the fading picture of him, ''But that's just life, isn't it? It's unfair sometimes. It's unfair that I'm looking at a picture of you and that you're not here with me. I hate it, Freddie. I hate that I can't get over this, that I can't let you rest in peace.''

Her eyes flickered, and tears rolled, ''I hope that you found peace... You deserve peace, all of it.''

The world seemed so hushed around her as she sat there, telling the memory of him all about her life. Who she was now, what she did, about her friends, the ones she'd earned, and the ones she'd lost.

She told him about Draco and Theo.

She told him all about their mess and all about the chaos they'd made as they fell in love. How they'd hated, loved, left, and found their way back to each other, all of them.

She cried as she told him about the choice that was meant to be made in less than two months. She sobbed and heaved as she said how much she wished he was there, how much she needed him.

She cried until she didn't have a tear left to spare, and then she smiled instead.

Isla smiled because she told him about his own family, that they were traveling, that they were living their way through Europe, and how happy she was that they took this time to see what life had to offer.

She talked and talked to that gravestone. Isla talked so much that she didn't notice the boy standing behind her. His shoulder leaned against a massive tree, and his eyes flickered across her.

Isla didn't notice him, she didn't realize he'd been watching her until she froze at his shadow being stretched towards her over the ground she was sitting on, and she flew to her feet.

Her breath caught in her throat, she frowned, ''Draco?''

Malfoy had a look on his face that she'd seen once before, sadness. She could see it in his eyes, in the way his eyes swept over her, nearly struggling to stay on her and not drift away.

''You left without saying anything,'' He said, quietly and he stopped feet away, ''You promised me that you wouldn't do that anymore.''

Isla's frown faded, being replaced with something pained. She shot a look over her shoulder, looking down at Fred's grave before she aimed it back at Draco, ''I didn't think you wanted to see me today.''

His throat shifted, and it looked to her as if he swallowed hard, ''Why wouldn't I want to see you today?''

''Because...'' Her words dimmed as she spoke them, and her sight grounded, ''Because today is... today.''

He was finally able to look away, and he watched the world around them before his stare leveled her again, ''Doesn't matter,'' His reply was quick, decided, ''If you're going anywhere, you tell me.''

She nodded, making her hair drape around her shoulders, framing her face, ''I didn't want to bother you, and I didn't plan on being gone for long. I just... I just wanted to visit him.''

Something ached inside Draco. His pulse both slowed and paced at the same time. Taking steps closer, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, ''I know, but next time, tell me.''

Isla failed to realize just how close he'd gotten until he was standing right in front of her, looking down with apology dashed in his eyes. She inhaled sharply, ''I will. Next time, I'll tell you.''

Draco reached his arm out, and he folded it around her shoulders, dragging her right into his chest, ''You better,'' He whispered into the side of her head, ''I can't breathe when I don't know where you are.''

She smiled at that, his body pressed her against him, ''I'm sorry.''

''Don't be.'' Draco said, holding her a little tighter, and he peered down at the grave she'd been talking to, ''I want you to meet someone.''

Isla arched back, looking up at him as the sun shone brightly over his blond strands, ''Who?''

''You'll see, but take your time. I want you to do what you came here for.'' His tone was hushed, and he kept his gaze on the picture carved into the stone.

He'd been there before. He'd once cried in front of that grave himself. Draco would never tell her about that, but after he burnt his house to the ground, leaving the will of revenge, he came here.

Malfoy spent an entire night talking to Fred, apologizing, and in many ways, he asked her cousin for permission to love her. He'd never said it, but he always felt so at fault for the fact that she didn't have Fred in her life anymore.

Just like she felt at fault for his family, he felt at fault for hers.

''I think I've said everything I wanted to say.'' She whispered, holding onto Draco, ''I think he's tired of me now. I always talked too much for his liking.''

Draco couldn't help but let a smirk climb his lips, and he pushed his mouth against her temple. He, if anyone, knew how much she talked.

''Are you sure? I don't mind waiting.''

Isla nodded, taking a step away from Draco before she turned around. Her hands settled on that grave, and she smiled shyly to herself, ''I'll be back soon. I promise. It won't take me another year to visit you.''

Drawing her wand out, she twitched her wrist, and a beautiful bouquet appeared at the heel of his stone. It was spring, and it was sunny. Yet that bundle of flowers shaded in the colors of fall.

Fred loved that season, fall. The warm, homely colors of orange, red, and brown. She loved that he loved it.

''I'll see you soon,'' She mouthed before she stepped back, taking the hand Draco held out for her to take, and she walked away.

Her heart was a little bit fuller, her mind a little less heavy.

Draco led her through the resting souls around them, down to a gate that was locked with magic. It looked like any restricted area that could be found in a graveyard. It looked expensive, normal, almost boring from the outside.

He unsealed it, and he took her inside.

Her eyes had never been this wide, and her words had never been so hard to form. Her voice was nonexistent as she saw it, saw why it was sealed behind bars, why it looked ordinary from outside the gates.

''Draco, what—''

She didn't understand what she was looking at. How this was possible, how she wasn't dreaming, how this was reality, and not her being trapped in a delusional verity caused by him.

It was real. It stuck to her skin, her hair, her lashes.

Snow.

It was snowing.

He spun to look at her with a fragile smile. Snowflakes fell and landed softly on his lashes, ''Mother's favorite season was winter.'' Draco said, his voice wasn't as heavy as it used to be, ''She loved the snow.''

Isla had yet failed to look at him as she did now.

She never knew this side of him existed. She never seemed to stop being taken by surprise at everything he was hiding underneath that cold frame. Her heart absolutely melted, even if it was nothing but freezing around them.

''Draco.. this is...'' Looking at the thick layer of snow she was standing on, she peered out over the woods around her, everything was covered in it, and it fell so gracefully from the skies, ''This is so beautiful.''

His hand held hers a little tighter, and he pulled her in again, until her body was locked to his and her jaws rested in his palms. He angled her face, making him see her properly, ''You are beautiful. This is just magic.''

Isla almost shuddered at that, not used to him being so soft with her, so gentle with his touch, and so praising with his choice of words.

''You did this for them?''

Draco nodded. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before he dragged her with him, ''I bought this part of the cemetery, and I made it theirs.''

She obediently followed him down the snow-covered path leading through a beautiful forest, ''That's... something else, Draco.''

''They gave me everything when they were here, and I never appreciated it. I barely saw it. I never saw what they did for me before they were gone.'' There was pain in his voice, so much regret, ''So I want to give them everything now. I never had a chance to do so when they were here.''

Isla could feel her insides twisting for him. Her heart ached beyond explanation, ''They would be proud of you.''

He scoffed silently, cocking his head to look at her, ''I don't think they would, Clarke. I think they would be disappointed in me for what I've become.''

She came to an abrupt stop, tugging him back with her at her halting, ''Don't say that. No one in their right mind could be disappointed in you.''

Draco gritted his jaw, the muscle in it flexed as snow fell lightly around them, ''I am.''

Isla smiled, tilting her head with a soft coat taking over her face, ''But you're not in your right mind, are you?''

''Oh, piss off,'' He rolled his eyes, untangling his hand from hers before he began walking again, ''You become what you spend time with, Clarke.''

Still smiling, she strolled after him. Walking and walking through the woods until she could see two stones standing next to each other in a white shaded glade.

She hesitated to walk further, not wishing to disrespect the boy who took her there, but as he heard the muffled steps of her shoes fading, he spun around, ''What?''

''Are you... are you sure?'' Her fingers found the edges of her dress, nervously twisting around the soft fabric, ''I mean... I'm—''

''A Weasley?'' He said with a raised brow, ''I think that's the one thing they'd be proud of when it comes to me. That I caught a Weasley while falling for her.''

Her shoulders sunk, and she nearly stumbled up to him. Her hands found the flares of his jacket, pressing herself so hard against him.

Isla held onto Draco before she lengthened herself on her toes, and she kissed him. She kissed him so slowly, ''I love how you say that.''

''Say what?'' He muttered into her mouth, taking her body in his arms.

''My name,'' Placing a kiss on his upper lip, she fell back on her heels, ''And that you caught me.''

She didn't believe her eyes when a rosy color stained his cheeks. He blushed, and her heart became a pounding mess within.

''I'm still getting used to it,'' He signed his arms off of her before gesturing towards the standing graves.

''Well, I love it.''

He wanted to say those exact words to her but replace the last two letters with three different ones.

Oh, how he wanted to speak those words.

''They would've loved you,'' He mumbled, watching as she walked towards the stones, ''And they weren't too fond by many people.''

''I'm honored,'' She shone up, her face once again covered in that smile only she carried, ''They seem like wonderful parents, Draco. I mean, how could they not be wonderful when they raised you? You're beautiful, intelligent, and very handsome—''

Malfoy's hands found her waist from behind, and he slammed her back against him. Bending down, his voice came fanning over her ear, ''You really need to stop saying those things to me in a holy place, Clarke. Because I want to do very unholy things to you when you speak them.''

She squealed silently at his tensing touch around her, feeling his arms hooking a solid grip over her waist, and his chin rested on her shoulder.

''Draco—'' Isla breathed out, leaning back against him, ''You're parents are right there, show them some respect, please.''

''Fine,'' He murmured, before he stepped forward with her pushed in front of him, ''No inappropriate jokes.''

''Not here, but at home, I'd like to hear and practice everything your unholy mind has in store for us, but don't say—''

''Yeah?'' His voice made her shudder again, his fingers squeezing, ''All my unholy thoughts?''

''Draco...'' She groaned, ''Behave.''

''I'll be holding you to that,'' He grinned, pressing a kiss onto her shoulder before his chin landed on it again, ''I have a lot of those unholy thoughts, let me tell you that—''

''Draco!''

''Fine—'' He chuckled, holding her body tight to his as she tried to push him back, ''I'll behave, but only if you let me live out all of my unholy thoughts later—''

''Hi, Mrs. Malfoy.'' Isla spoke louder than he did, cutting him off as he rolled his eyes behind her, ''Don't mind your son. He's a bit too hormonal sometimes.''

''Oh, shut the fuck up,'' Draco muttered, ''I don't—''

''Can you please—'' Her head snapped, looking at him over his shoulder, ''Language.''

''For fucks—'' He sighed, nodding towards the graves, ''Yeah, mother. I kind of have a girlfriend that has another boyfriend too. I like this kind of girlfriend I have, whom I am very sexually active with, and yeah, I use bad words both when I'm in cemeteries and when I'm fucking her—''

Her hand slammed over his mouth, and she spun around in his arms at a wild pace. Keeping him from speaking another word, ''Draco. Seriously, stop. I'll make you stop if you don't keep your mouth shut right now—''

His eyes widened with her hand plastered over his lips, and she hushed in the realization of what she'd just said.

''No, Draco. I didn't mean it—'' Sighing loudly, she slowly let go of his mouth, ''Just behave. You're supposed to respect the fallen, not make dirty jokes around them.''

''Make me?'' He said, amusingly, ''That's something I'd like to see.''

''Keep this immature act, and you won't be seeing anything.'' She protested, standing her ground against him, ''So instead of all these inappropriate jokes...'' She looked at the stones with the side of her body pressed to his, ''Tell me about them.''

''I don't... I don't know—'' His amused self became serious, his body stiffened, ''I don't know what to say.''

She held him harder, ''Tell me about your mom. What was she like?''

''My mother...'' He gave a bitter laugh, ''She was one hell of a woman, Clarke. She's done more for this war than any other person would dare to do.''

Isla stayed quiet, wrapping her arms around his waist to keep him close.

''The lengths that woman went to in order for The Dark Lord to fall was... It was something else. She was something else.''

She hummed a sweet sound, adoring the way he spoke about his mother.

''She would've loved you for not giving up on me. I don't think she would've fancied you as much in the beginning. She was hard to impress, but once she would've worked her way through to you... She would've loved you.''

Draco held her so tight.

''She sounds wonderful,'' Isla whispered, looking over the snow-stained graves.

''She was. She still is, wherever she ended up, whether it's heaven or hell, she's ruling that place.''

Isla arched back, looking up at him, ''And we are rooting for her, Draco. Wherever she is. We're rooting for her, all the way.''

He didn't think he'd be able to smile in a moment like this, but there he was, with a curl on his lips because of the girl standing by his side.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

That was all that went through his mind at the flakes of snow getting caught in her thick lashes.

''And your father?'' She spoke at his silence, aiming her gaze back at the graves, ''Who was he?''

''Misunderstood,'' Draco let out, swallowing hard, ''He did terrible things, don't get me wrong. But that was all everyone saw him as. His sins.''

She rounded him and tilted her forehead against his chest, giving him all the comfort he could possibly need.

''He wasn't a bad man. He wasn't as cruel as everyone made him out to be. He tried, Clarke. He tried, and he failed. And instead of remembering what he fought to manage, he was remembered for what he failed to do.''

Isla drew a slow breath, ''You'll remember for all of us. It doesn't matter what the world thinks of him, as long as you know who he really was.''

His throat closed in on him, his chest tightened, ''Do you really believe that?''

''Of course I do. You are his son, Draco. No opinion would matter as much to him as yours does. If you saw him as your hero, that's what he'll remain as.''

''Fuck—'' He suddenly grabbed her jaws with his hands, and he dropped down to kiss her, ''What the hell did I do to deserve you?''

Isla smiled against him, tightening her grip on his jacket, ''Well, you're handsome. That's a good start.''

He laughed out a breath, withdrawing until he could stroke the tip of his nose against hers. His heart pounded at the way her nose had grown red.

He didn't believe he could fall for her any harder than he'd already done, but there he was. Finding more depth in her love and crashing even harder.

''And so God damn lucky,'' He mumbled, pressing another kiss to her mouth, ''You're one beautiful witch, Clarke. Let me tell you that.''

''Mhm?'' Her lashes battled the falling flakes as she gave Draco a stare that melted him like nothing could, ''What did we say about speaking those things in front of—''

''My parents?'' He said, quirking a brow, ''For starters, I talk to them about everything, both when they were alive and now. They know everything about you, us, Nott. I always tell them everything. So no, I don't think they'd care. I think they're happy that I found someone who makes me say those things, who makes me too occupied to visit them all day. I think they're happy that I have you.''

Isla blinked, a bit stunned at his blurting.

''And now you've met them, so—''

''Wait—'' She could feel how his hand dipped to his pocket, and his wand lingered in his hand, ''I want to say hi, can I?''

Now Draco was the one blinking. He never believed that she'd be so invested in the graves he'd set up for them, but he let her go, and he nodded towards them.

Isla walked up to where he'd placed his parents, and she kneeled onto the snow. Her eyes flickered between them as she made sure that Draco was too far back to hear what she wished to say.

''You don't know me, but I have this thinking that you should talk to the people who are buried, even if we don't know if they're still close, listening.'' She smiled as she spoke, ''I'm Isla, and I am, unfortunately.... The girl your son's life has been assigned to.''

Draco pretended like he couldn't hear her, but he caught every last word she whispered, and he smiled to himself. He visited his parents as often as he could, but there was something so special with taking her there, allowing her a piece of himself that he didn't give to another person.

Something only they had and knew.

''I don't know if I'd consider him as lucky for that as he does, but I want you to know something...'' She tilted her head, reading their names, ''I'll look after him. I am the worst type of person to look after anyone, really, but I'll try. I will keep him safe and make sure that he sleeps and eats and doesn't kill more people.''

Draco had to look away. It was the most beautifully pained thing he'd ever had to watch.

''I... I care a lot for your son, and he means the world to me, so thank you. Thank you for bringing such a fierce soul into this world, and thank you for keeping him safe until now... Now it's my turn to keep him safe for you.''

She brushed the tips of her fingers over their names and the pictures he'd chosen to fit their stones until she stood back up, looking down over them, ''And I'd love to come back soon, make sure you two are alright as well.''

Draco quickly shook his head as she returned to him, getting rid of what he thought were tears pooling in his eyes. He forced a bitter grimace, ''Thank you.'' He said quietly, ''Thank you for being you.''

''Thank you for taking me here,'' She gave the surroundings one last look. It had turned dark around them, she'd been out for a long time, and the night was hovering above. His arm was wrapped around her, and he raised his wand to the sky, ''I hope you do it again.''

_____

Draco apparated them back to the Nott manor, and he placed her upon the bed. His mouth didn't leave hers once. His hands couldn't resist her body. He kissed her, over and over again. So much that she couldn't feel her own lips anymore.

He was absolutely everywhere. Not an inch of her body went without his touch.

He strived to place himself between her legs, to be closer to her when he came to a sudden stop. Looking down at Isla, his chest moved so roughly against hers.

She blinked with her hands in his hair. Her lips still wet from his constant trail of kisses, ''What?'' She panted, combing her fingers down his neck. Flushed and out of breath, ''Did something happen—''

''Would you—'' He swallowed with a tight jaw, his icing eyes softened at her blushing cheeks, her tousled hair, ''Would you mind if we just... lay here?''

''What?'' She frowned now, propping herself up on her elbows below him, ''Did I do something? Did I say something wrong—''

''I just... We've slept together a hundred times, but we've barely just... laid next to each other.'' He was nervous to ask that of her, not knowing how she would react, ''Or we can just keep going—''

Isla braced herself up even more before her mouth was pressed to his, and she kissed him softly, ''Of course we can lay here. You don't even have to ask me a question like that, Draco. Just tell me, and that's what we'll do.''

He groaned against her, kissing her again, ''Don't think—'' Another kiss, ''Don't fucking think that I don't want you. I do. I want to be with you, inside you. I want you all the damn time, but I just... Today was... And I just—''

She shook her head, leaning back onto the bed as she dragged him down with her, ''Come here,'' She nestled up close to him, pulling the covers over them, ''You never have to explain yourself. Sex isn't everything between us.''

Draco tucked an arm underneath his head, looking down at her, ''Do you promise that it isn't? That us sleeping together isn't all we'll be?''

''You're so much more to me than just sex, Draco.'' Her voice was calm, and she sounded exhausted. Almost too pleased with the fact that they didn't go further than that, ''You don't have to think those things about us. You never have to be with me in that way if you don't want to. I'd still want you without all of the naked moments.''

''Naked moments?'' He breathed out a laugh, wrapping his unbothered arm around her, ''I'm happy you fancy me even when I'm dressed—''

''You idiot,'' Isla brushed her nose against his neck, closing her eyes as she breathed him in, ''You know what I mean.''

''And you know what I mean,'' He countered, shutting his eyes closed at the darkness around them, ''I want you in all ways I can have you, naked and dressed—'' Grinning at the sigh she let out, he kept going, ''You're the sweetest thing I've ever placed my eyes upon, and there's not a moment where I don't think about fucking you.''

Her breath ragged in the back of her throat at his choice of words, hearing how he chuckled at her.

''I want that, Clarke. Trust me. I want to fuck you—''

''I got that,'' She whispered, tiredly, ''Noted.''

''But I also want this...'' He ignored her statement, holding her tighter instead, ''I want this more than anything. Just us, you and me, like this. It feels... safe.''

''Is Draco Malfoy being all soft and warm with me now?'' She grinned, placing a gentle peck on his jaw, ''I love it.''

''Today,'' He muttered, raising his chin and settling it on the top of her head, ''Today, you can have this very... rare piece of me. You can have me all soft and sweet. But tomorrow it's back to unholy, and you'll be the sweet one.''

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes.

She knew it had been a difficult day for them both, and she was more than happy that they could find some sort of comfort in each other's jokes and words.

That they could — even after everything they'd been through, be honest, talk small meaningful words, and get to know each other better, be better for each other.

It felt good. It felt safe.

She usually hated this day, but not today. She loved today because of him, and she couldn't wait for tomorrow if it meant that she'd spend it with him and the other missing part of her heart.

_____

Isla stretched her whole self at the morning light, sneaking through the cracks of the windows.

A rush of relief dragged through her body, from her toes up to her fingers, as she reached them far over her head.

A sweet sound fled her lips, and she arched to her left, wanting to hold that brown-haired boy she hadn't seen in almost an entire day.

Chills took over that warm feeling inside her, and her eyes peeled wide. He wasn't there. She braced herself up on her elbows, and her squinting sight scanned the room.

His clothes didn't lay in a mess on the floor below the bed frame. The bathroom door was open. Draco always left it open. Theodore always closed it.

His side of the bed was completely untouched, simply the marks of her rolling over to be close to him in her sleep stained the otherwise perfect bedding.

Draco let out a sigh in his sleep, turning towards her as he tucked his arm around her waist, dragging her back in, ''Come back,'' He muttered. His voice was raspy and low over her neck, ''Don't go up just yet.''

Isla melted right into his touch, almost forgetting the part where she was worried about Theo until someone dropped what sounded like a pot downstairs.

Sitting up straight, she blinked surprisingly at the door. Draco's breaths turned heavy beside her, his arm slightly loosened from the curve of her waist.

She slipped out from under him, rushing towards the door, and she threaded her dress on.

Without a sound, Isla snuck through the house, and she flipped her hair off her shoulders nervously as she stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.

''Miss Clarke, I presume?''

She took a step back. Her whole persona shifted into something so suspicious, ''Yes...''

''Well. I don't believe we've met yet. I'm Mr. Nott,'' He muttered, darkly as some sort of welcome, ''You wouldn't know how to make this coffee machine work?''

She nodded, quickly as a polite curl stretched over her lips, ''I would,'' She stepped towards him, reaching over the counter to put the pieces of the machine he'd taken apart, back together.

''That's kind of you, Miss.'' He said, tipping his lower back against the counter behind him. He folded his arms over his muscular chest, ''And was that Draco I saw sleeping upstairs?''

Isla's head shot up, and she frowned at him.

''I wasn't— I wasn't looking at you. I was simply looking for Theodore. I thought they would be back by now.'' He excused himself with a nervous look, ''My wife told me about this... arrangement you three have going on, but I didn't expect all of you to sleep in his room.''

Isla aimed her attention back at the coffee, and she plugged the machine in, ''That was Draco, and we... we do sleep in the same bed.''

''All three of you?'' He sounded surprised.

She nodded again, ''All three of us.''

''Well, that's... understandable, considering what the Ministry asks of you.''

It turned quiet for a minute, and the smell of newly brewed coffee took over.

''You'll have to excuse me, Miss Clarke. I'm barely home anymore, and I can never seem to remember how to work that... thing.''

Isla smiled, looking at him with curious eyes, ''What do you do when you're not here? If you don't mind me asking.''

''I work with my company overseas. Mostly in Europe, and that makes it hard to be home.'' His answer was fast-paced, like he was disappointed in himself, ''But I try to come home as often as I can, to see Theodore, and my wife... speaking about them... they should've been back by now. Do you know what treatment he's getting this time?''

Isla stared at him wide-eyed. She'd seen pictures of him before, portraits hanging on the walls. He didn't quite look as she imagined him to.

His face was covered in a short-cut beard. His brows were thick and fixed upon his forehead. There was a crease running in the middle of them. He looked stressed.

His suit was expensive, she could tell, and the clock on his wrist was bigger than anything she'd ever seen.

He paid attention to details. The way he was looking down at her bare feet, to the way he scanned the love bites on her throat, gave him away immediately.

''Wait—'' She shook her head loose from reading Theodore's father, ''What did you say?''

The man turned around, opening a cabinet to pick out two cups, ''It never takes more than a day at the clinic. So I asked if you knew what treatment he was getting this time. If it was just blood work, or if they are doing the monthly—''

''Clinic?'' Isla stepped forward, tucking a loose wave behind her ear, ''What are you talking about?''

''Theodore,'' He said, placing the cups onto the counter before he spun back around to face her, ''He's at the hospital, isn't he?''

She couldn't think.

Her arms dropped to the table in front of her, trying to keep herself steady as her knees weakened, ''You have to forgive me...'' She breathed, blinking in complete disbelief, ''What is that supposed to mean?''

His father stared at her like she was crazy before he cleared his throat, ''Theodore,'' He said again, ''He's at the hospital, getting his treatment. Didn't he tell you?''

Her lips parted, but she couldn't find the strength to speak. She just looked at that man.

''Miss Clarke—'' He swallowed and dragged a hand through his beard, ''Didn't Theodore tell you he's at the hospital?''

Her world stopped spinning. Her heart suffered its beat.

It all made sense now.

It all fitted into the puzzle he wouldn't let her have the pieces of.

All the times he disappeared from school. All the times he came back, looking more drained than before he left. The secrets about his family. The secrets he kept from her.

''Miss Clarke—'' He tried to reach for her as he saw her stumble back, ''Miss Clarke, are you alright—''

She just shook her head. She couldn't manage more than that. She couldn't think beyond the tears as they rimmed in her hooded eyes.

She kept trembling backwards, all the way to the doorway.

''Miss Clarke, didn't Theodore tell you—''

She stopped.

Something warm pressing against her spine stopped her. She could feel the hands wrapping around her waist from behind.

''Didn't I tell her what?''

His voice was so hard. She'd never heard him speak like that before.

Isla turned around with her tears caught in her throat. Her chest felt so weighted, heavy as she stared up at him. He didn't look down at her.

Theodore had his stare narrowed at his father. His jaws were locked in anger. Something so cold showed upon him. She'd never seen it before.

''Didn't I tell her what?'' He fired again, even harder this time, ''What the fuck did you tell her?''

Isla pushed her hands into his chest. Tears fell from her eyes, ''Theo—''

His eyes snapped to hers at the break in her vocals. His gaze softened the second he watched pearls roll down her cheeks.

Isla could almost feel how his heart stopped beating.

''Theo—'' She sobbed out, her hands moved up his heaving frame, and she caught his jaws in her palms, ''What is he talking about?''

''I have no fucking idea—''

''No—'' Isla shook her head, holding onto him tighter, ''Don't do that. Don't lie to me. No more lies. Tell me, Theo.''

''I'll just—'' His father raised his cup towards the living room, ''I'll give you a moment.''

Theodore ignored him. His eyes were so balanced in hers, ''Isla...''

''Just—'' She leaned her forehead against his chest, desperately tangling her fingers into his curls, ''Tell me, Theo. Please.''

Her words stuck in the air between them. He didn't answer. He didn't speak.

Her world was crumbling.

''Are you—'' She arched back with a sob, finding his pained eyes again, ''Are you sick, Theo? He said something about the hospital and I... are you?''

He swallowed thickly before his hands moved up her arms, and he pulled her touch away from him.

Still nothing. Still not speaking.

He just looked at her. He looked at her in a way her mother looked at her when her father was found dead. He looked at her in a way George looked at her when he told her Fred didn't make it.

He looked at her as she'd looked at Cedric's father when she was clinging onto his cold body.

''No—'' Isla cried. She cried so much now. She cried instead of breathing. Silent tears poured, ''No, Theo... No—''

He gritted his jaw, closing his eyes. He couldn't look at her now. Not like this. Not when he felt her heart shattering from inches away.

He backed away.

''Theo—''

Her life flashed before her eyes. Every single frame of everything they've ever been through was put on full display in her mind.

''I'm sorry.''

That was all he said before he walked out.

Theodore Nott walked away, and Isla's whole world faded.

_____