September 7th, 1997
Isobel may have been quieter than most, but what she lacked in extroversion, she made up for in observational skills. That was what she liked to think, anyway.
She knew things about others that they had probably forgotten themselves. She remembered the time in her first year when she had seen Theodore Nott steal Daphne Greengrass' pencil in the library, and then helped her look for it when she noticed it was missing, even though it was in his pocket the entire time. She knew that Professor Sinistra, Professor Vector, and Professor Burbage often sat in the empty Astronomy Tower, drinking Ogden's Old Firewhiskey and laughing together when the students were in bed (or when they were meant to be in bed). She remembered when she had seen Matthew Jones specifically pick out all the earwax Bertie Botts' Beans and then eat them all one by one with great enjoyment when he thought nobody was looking. At least, Isobel thought they were earwax. They could just as likely have been toffee.
It was always when people thought nobody was looking when they revealed interesting things. It was one of the reasons Isobel preferred to stay quiet – nobody would ever suspect that she knew their secrets, their harmless, hilarious, but sometimes earth-shattering secrets. And that was how she liked it. She would never give anyone's secrets away, of course, not a chance, unless someone was in danger (though she'd never had the pleasure of finding out such a secret). She just liked to know that she had them – she held these secrets close to her chest as though they were a good hand of cards that she would never play.
They brought her comfort. She wasn't exactly sure why. Her older sister, Morag, often told her that she could have been a Slytherin if she wasn't such a nerd, and Isobel had to agree with her. She didn't think being Slytherin was a bad thing, but there were a lot of Slytherins who came from old families with old views, and they often abused their power. But not all of them were bad – she was quite good friends with William Davis, as a matter of fact. More than friends, even, and he was one of the best people she knew, despite his toxic upbringing.
Isobel tried to keep this fact in mind – not all Slytherins are bad – as she watched Alecto Carrow strut around Professor Burbage's classroom, telling them horrible untruths about Muggles and Muggleborns. She claimed that Muggles were sub-human, filthy, and on par with animals, barely better than their ape cousins. She claimed that Muggleborns were just Muggles that had stolen magic. She claimed that Muggles were the real danger to witches and wizards– more so than any dark wizard could ever be. Isobel knew that Professor Burbage would be devastated if she knew the kind of things that Alecto was trying to teach them, and Isobel closed her eyes, imagining that she was with Will, her sweet, gentle Will.
There was a sudden thud, and a small, shrill squeal of fright, and Isobel jumped, her eyes flying open.
"Yeh'll do as I bloody well say!" Alecto roared, repeatedly slamming her hands against a desk, her beady eyes narrowed and furious. She was shouting in the face of Colin Creevey, who had apparently refused to answer a question. "Now, give me five reasons why Muggles are sub-human. Now!"
Colin was white and shaking, and looked as though he was either about to cry or flip the desk over in anger. He's a Muggleborn, Isobel remembered suddenly. What was he doing here?
"I won't," he said quietly, defiantly staring up at her. Isobel was proud of him.
Alecto slapped him hard across the face, and Colin blinked, shocked. There were several gasps across the room, and a sudden hush. Over the past week of classes, they had grown used to the threats and taunts of the two new professors, but they hadn't expected them to resort to violence. Isobel hadn't, anyway, although she realised that the morals of Snape were quite warped, and hiring a couple of child-abusing buffoons wouldn't be completely out of character for him.
"Do it!" Alecto shrieked, her eyes wild, looking like an utter mad-woman, which Isobel supposed that she was. "Do it now!"
Ginny Weasley stood up, her eyes glinting, her face a painting of anger. "Leave him alone, you horrible old cow." Isobel was proud of her, too.
Alecto spluttered. "Wha- I will not have this disrespect in my classroom! Yeh've both earned a week of detention. You, boy," she hissed, and grabbed Colin's ear, twisting it. He yelped. "I'm not done with you."
Colin seemed to go even paler, and Isobel felt a bit guilty for not saying something, but she didn't feel that was wise, as nothing would be achieved except more trouble.
"Sit down," Alecto spat at Ginny, letting go of Colin. Ginny sat, although she looked as though she wanted to pull out her wand and start hexing, clasping her quill so harshly it seemed on the verge of breaking.
Isobel did not want to list the ways that Muggles were sub-human. She knew that it was untrue, but she felt that she had no choice. I don't have to believe it, she justified. I just have to write it.
Carolina's shoulders were shaking, and Isobel wondered if she was crying. It was quite possible – her mother was a Muggle, after all, and it must be quite torturous for her to sit and listen while such horrible things were being said, and then write even more horrible things herself. Althea was patting her on the back, and whispered something in her ear, and Isobel was glad that Carolina at least had Althea.
She was very grateful for the school-bell when it came. Alecto screeched at Colin and Ginny to stay behind, and they reluctantly did so. Isobel hurriedly packed up, and joined the almost mad rush of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, all of them desperate to get out of the room as quickly as they possibly could.
"Are you coming?" Isobel asked Luna, who was lingering outside the classroom, presumably waiting for Ginny.
Luna shook her head. "I think perhaps I'll just wait here."
"Alright, well, see you in Charms," said Isobel, and Luna agreed. She wouldn't call herself friends with her, exactly- Luna had always preferred to spend time with the Gryffindor students.
Isobel hoped that she would be able to catch up with before Will the end of the day. She had missed him over the summer, and they couldn't even exchange owls, as neither of their families would react well if they found out they were seeing each other. Isobel's because Will came from a powerful Slytherin family, and Will's because Isobel didn't. Not to mention the reactions their friends would have. She suspected that her friends would get all suspicious of her, as Will's family was known to be quite involved in the Dark Arts. His father was a Death Eater, even, and Isobel often worried that Will would someday have no choice but to become one too.
Isobel's family were considered Blood Traitors by a lot of their fellow Purebloods. Not quite to the extent of the Weasleys, but the MacDougals were known for associating with witches and wizards of all backgrounds and heritages without any shame. Will's friends would react even worse than Isobel's would if they were found out – she knew that for a fact. Her friends were a lot more tolerant than Will's were.
Ducking into the nearest Lady's Room, Isobel sat on the lid of the toilet and opened the journal she and Will had enchanted so they could talk to each other without having to be in the same room. She had one, he had one, and it was one of her most important possessions. On the outside, it looked like a regular day-planner, and she had stuck her timetable and wrote in things such as homework. But there were a few blank pages at the back where she and Will could write to each other, and once their words had been read, they would disappear.
p style="font-size: medium; font-family: Times;"She hadn't written in it for months – the charms only worked when she and Will were in roughly the same vicinity, and therefore she could not talk to him over the holidays as that vicinity did not stretch from her home in Inverness to his in Brighton.
Room 57, 4:15? she wrote, chewing on the end of her pen as she awaited his reply. Realising that it simply wouldn't do to sit in the bathroom and wait, she made her way to Charms, thankfully on time, taking a seat next to Luna in the middle row.
She felt the journal heat up in her pocket, and though she knew it was risky to write in it in class, she simply couldn't wait until later. Quietly taking it out, she flipped to the back, shielding it from Luna's ever-curious gaze.
Meet you there. x
She smiled. He was so sweet – even she didn't sign off with 'x', and for about the hundredth time, she wondered how on earth he had been put into Slytherin. Although, she thought, your House doesn't necessarily measure how romantic you are.
0o0o
"I'm going to the library," Isobel said to her friends after their last class of the day. "See you at dinner."
Instead of going to the library, however, Isobel made her way up to the fifth floor, through old, winding corridors, past archaic tapestries, and past bored paintings that shouted at her, eager for a conversation as not many people went this way. Which was precisely the reason she went this way.
Making her way into the unused Room 57, she pretended to knock on the door, which was already ajar.
"Come in," Will called, and she grinned, and pushed open the door.
He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, Quidditch Through the Ages face-down next to him.
"Hullo," he said, a silly little smile on his face.
"Hello," she replied, staring at him with an equally silly smile.
He stood up and made his way over to her leaning against the doorframe. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," Isobel said, and hugged him, his chin resting on the top of her head. "You have a tan."
"You don't," he told her. "How was your break?"
"It wasn't terrible, all things considered. But I missed you so much. How was yours?"
Will shrugged. "Not wonderful. My brother," he began, and dropped his voice to a whisper even though they were completely alone. "My brother joined the Death Eaters."
"Isobel dropped her arms and looked at him, taking in his expression. "Oh."
"He tried to get me to recruit with him, but I said no."
Isobel bit her lip. God, she worried about him. "Good. But wouldn't you be safer, if you recruited? Not that I think it's a good idea."
"How on earth would I be safer?" he asked, and sat back down.
Joining him on the floor, she leaned against his shoulder, smiling when he put an arm around her. "Well, it would protect you from the Carrows at least, wouldn't it?"
"Why would I need protecting from the Carrows?"
"Haven't you had a class with them yet?"
"Well, yes, but they didn't do anything but try to teach us that Muggles were filthy and that the Dark Arts are good. Which, before you get started, I know is not the case."
"Give it time, and you'll understand why it would be safer," Isobel sighed when she remembered the events of her Muggle Studies class. "Today Alecto hit Colin Creevey upside the head when he refused to list the ways Muggles are sub-human."
Will frowned, his long-ish, sandy hair falling into his eyes. "Well, he would refuse, wouldn't he? Isn't he a Mudblood?"
"Muggleborn, Will!" Isobel said with indignation, tapping him on the arm. It was a habit, she knew that – he was constantly surrounded by people who used derogatory slurs. She was always reminding him to say Muggleborn, at least when his Slytherin pals weren't around, and he did try, but it was just that he was so used to saying 'Mudblood'.
He winced. "Sorry."
"Isobel patted his hand in forgiveness. "Yes, Colin's a Muggleborn. I don't know why he hasn't gone on the run yet, but I assume he's managed to forge legal documents or something."
"He'd better not get found out," said Will. "They won't be merciful, judging from the way Muggleborns have been treated."
"It's just awful, Will. Are they really dragging Muggleborns off to Azkaban?"
"And worse," he told her grimly.
She gulped. "Do I want to know?" she asked, and he gave her a half smile.
"Knowing you, yes, you would want to know. But first you should ask yourself whether you'd rather know, or be able to sleep."
Isobel had a burning desire to know, although she felt that she probably already did know – definitely something along the lines of torture and murder. She didn't particularly need to know the details. Curiosity killed the cat, after all, she thought.
"For now, I choose sleep," she said, leaning against his shoulder. "I'm very glad to be a pure-blood right now, Will. Even though my family is considered traitorous, I suppose that's safer than being Muggleborn."
"As am I. Although, I would rather that my family be Mud- Muggleborns and not be half-full of Death Eaters."
"Is your sister a Death Eater, too?" she asked. Tracey Davis was in the year above Isobel, and although she didn't know her well at all, she did know that Tracey was quite the princess. She didn't think that it was likely for Tracey to be a Death Eater, but stranger things had happened.
"Tracey? Merlin, no. She'd be far too scared of breaking a nail. Father doesn't want her to, anyway."
"What, does he think being a Death Eater should only be for men?" She was half-joking – let the women be evil too – but a lot of Purebloods had misogynistic ideals. Isobel was glad that her father wasn't like this, although if he was her mother would soon set him straight.
"Yes," he told her honestly. "Not counting Bellatrix Lestrange. He's terrified of her. But I think he would also just rather know that Tracey and Mum are safe. He can't guarantee their safety if they come with him to the meetings. Merlin, he can't even guarantee his own safety, or Michael's." Michael was Will's older brother, and if Isobel remembered correctly, he should be around nineteen.
"But just because they're at home doesn't mean they're safe. I mean, we're in the middle of a war. No-one is truly safe," Isobel said.
"True," he sighed, and rubbed his forehead as though he had a bad headache. "I'm scared, Izzie. Really, really scared."
"I know, Will," she said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "So am I. I'm scared for you, and for me. And for our families."
"You're scared for my family?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes."
"It was the truth – he cared about them, and so she cared about them too, even though she didn't know them and didn't necessarily want to. She sometimes wondered if Will felt the same way – he loved them, but he didn't like them or their ideals.
"Why?" he asked, looking her in the eyes. "We're… we're not great people, Iz."
"They're not great people, you mean," Isobel said firmly. "I think you're a good person. I know you're a good person. You're not like them, Will, don't you see that?"
She was telling the truth, and she wished he could see that. He was one of the kindest people she knew, even though he wasn't always able to show that, what with the people he had no choice to surround himself with. But when he was with Isobel, he was like a completely different person – he could be himself around her, the same way that she could be herself around him. They brought out the best in each other, and Isobel hoped it would always been that way.
"I'm not a good person," he told her, diverting his gaze from her face to his clasped hands.
"Yes, you are," Isobel told him. "Even though you were raised with fanatical, old-fashioned beliefs, you're a good person. You didn't join the Dark Lord. You hang out with me, even though my family are considered Blood Traitors. You make a conscious effort to correct yourself when you say a slur out of habit. You're a good person, William Davis, regardless of what you may think."
He didn't say anything, and instead took her hand, his thumb tracing circles over her palm. Finally, he looked at her again, his sea-green eyes intense and swirling with what he hadn't said. "You didn't answer my question."
"Hmm?" she murmured.
"Why are you worried about my family?"
She looked up at him, and hoped that he could tell she was being sincere. "You love them."
He was quiet again, and she wished that he would just say whatever he was thinking. "You're a good person, Isobel MacDougal," he said softly.
Isobel laughed. "That's why we get along."
"I often wonder why we do get along, goodness aside."
"Because we're similar, you prat," she said. "We share interests, we share values, and we can have an honest conversation without stopping to worry about saying the wrong thing. Our Houses are irrelevant."
He tilted his head. "That's funny you should say that, because I would say that our Houses are of extreme relevance."
"Why would you say that?"
"Well, because our Houses are one of the first defining things about how other people see us. I'm a Slytherin, so the first thing most people think is that I must be bad, or a cunning bastard at the very least. You're a Ravenclaw, and so the first thing people think about you is that you must be smart. And you are."
"Are you saying, then, that you must be bad, because your House is subject to a great deal of stereotypes and misguided assumptions?" Isobel shook her head in half-hearted disbelief. "I thought we'd been over this already, Will."
"My house is notorious for its prejudice, and its association with the Dark Arts. In our Common Room, there are usually about ten to fifteen Death Eaters sitting in front of the fire at any given time. Most of the UK's Dark Wizards came from Slytherin. Even Slytherin himself was a Dark Wizard! I suppose what I'm saying is that the stereotype proves true."
"Not all the time, Will, because despite these aspects of your House, you're still a good person. And you are a good person. I should write that on your face so that every time you look in the mirror, you see it. I'm a very honest person, Will, at least I try to be, and I swear I am not lying."
He kissed the top of her head. "I love you; you know that?"
She smiled and looked up at him. "I do know that. And I love you too, you know that?"
"Yes, I know that."
"Good," she whispered, and kissed him gently.
"It's five," he said. "We'll be late for dinner."
"I can't believe dinner is at five now, it's far too early, in my opinion. When dinner rolls around, I'm still full from lunch, and then I don't eat much, and then at midnight I'm starving again, and then I can't sleep."
"You should hide food in your dormitory."
"I do, I have a stash of Chocolate Frogs. But Althea often finds them, and she is a very big fan of snacks. An unashamed thief."
"You should hex her," said Will, and she was a little shocked at how serious he looked, though she supposed that was how they did things in Slytherin.
"What?! No way. She would hex me right back and trust me, you do not want to get in the way of her Rictusempra. You'd be giggling for weeks."
Will laughed, and then frowned at his watch. Isobel was disappointed – though it had been almost forty-five minutes, it felt like five, and she didn't know when they would next get to see each other; the new, earlier curfew made things very difficult, and they knew that they had to be careful now more than ever.
"You go first," Will told her, nodding at the door. "I'll follow in five minutes or so."
"Okay," Isobel said, sighing, and she wrapped her arms around him, not yet wanting to leave. "Write in the journal, Will, we won't be able to meet up too often. We really have to be careful."
He pulled her close to him. "I know, Izzie. We would both be crucified if anyone found out."
"Isobel shook her head, and he looked at her, confused. "Not necessarily. I think it would depend on who found us out. But promise me that you'll be careful, Will, it's you that I'm worried about."
"Don't worry about me," Will told her bravely, and she rolled her eyes.
"You don't need to be all macho around me, Will, for heaven's sake. I am going to worry about you." She supposed that he thought he had to be tough all the time, especially around his friends – at least half of them were Death Eaters, or were at least planning to be Death Eaters. It couldn't be easy for him.
"And I worry about you, Izzie," he said softly. Wordlessly, she got to her feet, and held a hand out to him. He clasped it and stood up, and drew her close to him, pressing his mouth to hers. Isobel wished she could stay in this dusty, musty classroom forever, with Will and only Will, and she dreamed of the days they could go anywhere as a couple. She didn't think that those days were anywhere in the near future, though.
With one last small smile, Izzie left the dimly lit classroom, ignoring the portraits' attempts to draw her into a conversation. She quickly made her way downstairs, narrowly missing one of Peeves' water-balloons on the way.
"You look very happy," Carolina remarked when she took a seat. "Your cheeks are all pink."
"Well, I had an alright day, and the library was very warm," Isobel said, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
I swear she has a secret boyfriend or something," Althea smirked, wiping her plate with a piece of bread. "Just come back from a tryst, Isobel?"
They all laughed – her friends because it would be extremely unlike Izzie, to have a secret, romantic rendezvous, and Isobel because that was exactly what had happened. Well, kind of what had happened – she and Will had never done anything more than snog, after all.
Glancing up, she saw Will enter the Great Hall and take his seat, and had to resist the urge to stare at him all throughout dinner. On the few occasions that she did look up, he was looking her way, and Isobel resisted the urge to smirk – she would have to remind him later to be subtle. On the other hand, it did amuse her. But she supposed that safety was more important.
Isobel really could not wait until these days were over.
Another chapter :)
Thank you to Goldilocks775 and Countess of Rosebury for the follows! It means a lot. Another big thanks to my beta reader, ThatGirlWithaCat.
Have a good day/night!