A/N: Jk Rowling owns HP!

Chapter 7

I stumbled out of Dumbledore's office three hours later, drunk on shock. Hurrying down the staircase, hand trailing down the stone wall, I sighed a breath of relief at the sight of the empty hallways. I didn't want to see anyone right now. Not after...that. They were probably all partying anyway, celebrating what I was sure was a Gryffindor win.

I walked aimlessly until the late September sun had sunk below the mountains, golden light spilling through the windows. I kept replaying the conversation through my head.

"You are our daughter. We have raised you from the moment you were born until now. And we love you so, so dearly. Isabel, nothing has changed, nothing at all, in the last few weeks. You are still exactly the same person you were. You just have another piece of your identity now," my mother had told me, tears in her eyes. I had sat across them at a table tucked away in the upstairs corner of the Hog's Head, a mug of untouched Butterbeer steaming in front of me.

"I want to see her," I had said immediately. "Amalia. I want to see her." I hadn't realized how desperately that was true until I'd spoken it out loud. When I'd first found out, when I'd first heard my parents speaking behind that door in the kitchen, I'd pushed all my feelings down and run away. I hadn't even let myself truly feel them the first few weeks of school. Not until now, looking at the faces of the two people in my life that I thought were my Mum and Dad, did I truly realize how much I ached to know the rest of my history. Part of me was still in denial; how were these people not my parents? They'd hurriedly assured me that they were, and I knew what they meant, but still. Now I had a whole nother piece of me, previously hidden. And I wasn't sure how I felt. Part of me was bitter that they'd kept it from me for so long. Another part understood. After all, I still hadn't found the courage to tell James or Lily, the two closest people to me in the entire world.

"I'm afraid you can't see her, love," my father had said softly, pity in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked anxiously, fingernails cutting into my sweaty palms underneath the table.

"She's gone." His words were gentle, but they cut through me like a knife. "We got to St. Mungo's this morning, but she had disappeared, against the Healers' wishes. She...left something, though. For you."

I stared in shock as my mother reached a shaking hand into her robe. She pulled out a silver necklace on a chain, a small white droplet of a pendant at the end. It was so bright it almost glowed. Numbly, I reached out my hand and took it, clasping it immediately around my neck. Desperate for any sort of connection to my biological absentee, potions-addicted, potential Seer mother. Even though she clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

"And what about my biological father?" I asked desperately. Mum and Dad had exchanged a dark look at that.

"Your biological father," Dad began slowly, looking at me. "Was a Muggle-born wizard from Spain. His name was Antonio. Amalia chose...not to tell him about the pregnancy. They were together briefly. A short, tumultuous relationship. Amalia was in a very, very troubled period of her life. She left Antonio, and found out she was pregnant a month later - she wasn't able to or did not want to get in contact with him.

"When she was pregnant with you, Isa, she was..well, the most stable we'd seen her in years. She was truly happy. But a few weeks before you were born, she grew withdrawn, cold, distant. We think this is when the addiction started. We know she was contacted by who we know now to be He Who Must Not Be Named. In his early days. As he was just beginning to gather followers."

"What? Why?" Another look passed between Dad and Mum.

"We honestly don't know," Mum answered softly. "Our best guess is that...well, Amalia was a powerful witch. We think he wanted her on his side." A prickle of understanding nagged at the back of my mind. Maybe, somehow, Lord Voldemort knew more about my mother and her gift than even my parents did.

The same gift I had.

A shiver ripped through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

I continued on through the hallways of Hogwarts, footsteps echoing down the halls. The few people I had passed I had numbly ignored, eyes facing forward.

Now, though, I was growing tired. I took in my surroundings - still-empty hallways, the setting sun bright orange over the grounds of Hogwarts, the Quidditch Pitch a distant smudge in the background. To my right, a gaudy painting of a gathering of Victorian witches under an orange tree, all tittering and giggling over something or other.

Then it clicked, suddenly - this portrait - this was a hidden room! I remembered briefly, from moments memorizing the stolen Marauder's map that James and no idea I knew about - this painting was surely the one. I faced it head-on, and the Victorian witches began to scowl. They stepped towards me, nearly life-size in their garish, brightly colored robes.

"Oi! We're trying to have a conversation here, run along now!" The one in front stated loudly, snapping her fingers at me.

"I'm not going to run along," I said waspishly, taking out my wand and standing on my toes to tap the lone wispy cloud in the corner thrice. "I need to be let in. I need to get away."

"Well isn't that original," one of the witches said in an exasperated tone. "Like we haven't heard that a hundred times before. Mind you, you're much less interesting to look at than some of our other visitors!" Despite the insults, the portrait swung open just enough for me to slip in.

Rolling my eyes and muttering curses at the vapid portrait women, I stepped in quickly, closing the door behind me.

"Lumos Maxima," I whispered, lighting up the small dark room. I flicked my wand upwards, allowing the bead of light to leave the tip of my wand and hover up towards the ceiling. I took in the space, slightly disappointed. I think I'd seen this place maybe once before, exploring with James first year. It had seemed so much bigger then. It was maybe the size of a small bedroom, though the ceiling seemed to stretch on for ages and ages.

I settled into one of the four worn but still cushioned red armchairs, bracing myself for the inevitable cloud of dust - but none came. Clearly someone had been maintaining at least a bare minimum of cleanliness in here. Maybe it was the house elves. I took in the plush gold and red rug, the candlesticks over the armchairs - I quickly transformed my bit of light from the ceiling to flames in the braziers, throwing the room into a much warmer light. I sank back into the chair once I had finished, sighing with relief. Looking at the walls more closely, I began to notice that they weren't walls at all but bookshelves. Floor to ceiling bookshelves, with maps and bits of old parchment - some so worn you could no longer see the ink - taped over them. This looked like it had, once upon a time, been someone's study. And here it was, tucked away at the heart of the castle.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and bent over at my waist, resolving to explore more later. Right now, all I could do was quell the uneasy feeling rising in my stomach. I could feel my breathing begin to quicken as the familiar feeling of panic closed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the sudden overwhelming sensation that the walls were closing in around me.

I wasn't who I thought I was.

I took a shaky deep breath, the only noise in the tiny, high-ceilinged office besides the sound of my own heartbeat pounding violently in my ears.

I was, most likely, a Seer. As my mother was. And Voldemort came after her. Which is potentially why she had to give me to my parents. And potentially why she was driven to addiction, and a horrible life.

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth as my father always told me to do, eyes squeezed shut. I hadn't realized it, but my hand had flown to the necklace - my mother's necklace - and was squeezing it tightly. I released the pendant and began to rub at my temples, my heart still pounding.

"Merlin's beard," I whispered angrily. "Isabel, get a grip on yours-" I gasped suddenly as the portrait suddenly swung forward slightly. I held my wand aloft, eyes wide with shock.

"-bloody Victorian women," a voice was bellowing, and suddenly someone was loudly - and clumsily - climbing through the portrait hole. "Fucking hell," the voice swore, and the accompanying body came stumbling through in, back to me as they stepped over the opening.

The person straightened suddenly, a bottle clutched in their left hand as they slammed the portrait closed. They whirled around - or not so much whirled as some sort of combination of tripping and turning - and dropped unceremoniously into the nearest armchair, bringing the bottle back to his lips.

I found myself staring into the heavy lidded eyes of Sirius Black.

"Oh, put your wand down, love," Black slurred. "It's just me."

"You're drunk," I told him incredulously, shaking my head.

"What gave it away, sweetheart?" He said sarcastically, one arm draped over the back of his armchair, legs spread apart like he owned the place. I rolled my eyes.

"Weren't we just doing this two weeks ago?" My voice was slightly snippish. This was the most we'd spoken in weeks, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with Black and his antics. My heart was still beating fast from the beginning of what probably would have been a panic attack, if I hadn't been literally scared right out of it. I lowered my wand, striding towards the exit. I was already stressed enough to scream, and Black would only make it worse.

"Potter. You don't have to go," Black's voice followed me, soft enough to stop me in my tracks.

"Why's that?" I turned halfway back to him, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Because your shoulders are up around your ears, and you're doing that thing with your wand that you do when you're stressed to fuck. And you look like you could use a drink."

I stared down at my hands, where I was in fact twiddling my wand, and I made a conscious effort to relax my shoulders. I turned back to Black, smiling sheepishly. He smirked at me, grey eyes stormy. His black hair was tousled all around his head like he'd just flown through a thunderstorm. My heart continued to race, though this time I couldn't explain the suddenly sweaty palms, nor the sudden fixation on the fact that my curly hair was probably just as messy as Sirius's - though without that effortless windswept model look - and my eyes were probably extremely puffy and red.

I dropped back down into the chair facing his, letting out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. We continued to stare at each other, evaluating.

"So, what's going on with you?" Black asked, taking one more swig before handing the bottle to me.

"You first," I deferred, closing my eyes and holding my breath as I took back one, two, three long sips of the burning liquid. Wincing hard and making a face, I relished in the feeling of the firewhisky burning down my throat and into my empty stomach. I had skipped dinner, choosing instead to wander the halls moodily. "Why weren't you at the Quidditch game? And what's that?" I gestured to the crumpled up parchment in his hand that hadn't been holding the bottle. I already felt a little bolder.

"You noticed I wasn't at the Quidditch game?" Black smirked at me, his eyes suddenly devilish.

"Well," I spluttered, defensive. I could feel warmth spread through my body and over my cheeks - from the firewhisky I had just downed, I was sure. "Well, you are on the team, you daft twat. The announcer was talking about it."

Black just shook his head at me, that stupid smile still plastered over his face, delighting in the fact that my face was surely as red as a tomato by now.

"So, what's that?" I asked again, gesturing down to the bit of parchment in his hand in a desperate effort to move the conversation.

"This?" Black stared down at the parchment as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. He held it out to me wordlessly, and for a moment I was so shocked I made no move to take it. "Here," he said, shaking it slightly.

"You-you really want me to read that?" I leaned forward slightly, my fingers brushing his as I took the parchment from his hand. I jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, and the sudden jolt that accompanied it. He leaned forward as well, his face suddenly right in front of mine, close enough for me to smell the cinnamon whiskey on his breath.

"You're the only one who knows," he said in a low voice, eyes locked on mine. "I know I'm being silly. It's just that - well - you read it. You'll see."

I carefully smoothed the parchment, revealing a short note scrawled in small, loopy writing.

Sirius -

First, I want to say that I'm sorry to have to put this in a letter. I don't know how else to say it. Obviously, this isn't the ideal scenario, for any of us. So, I guess I'll just out with it. The baby isn't yours, Sirius. I was with someone else about the same time, and when I first told you I honestly thought it was yours. But this last week I've been having doubts, and...well, the one month mark is when I'm far enough along for the spell to work, to see who his father is. And I had to check, for my peace of mind. It's not you, Sirius. I'm so sorry. I've gone to St Mungo's and found out it's Wood's baby, Gregory Wood's. And I've made up my mind about him, Sirius. He wants to be there for the baby, he wants to be a Dad, he wants to be a proper family. So I'm writing this to tell you goodbye. It's time for us both to grow up now and move on. I think you and I both know, deep down, that all we were was a bit of fun, over the years. And what adventures we had. But I've got my Quidditch career to focus on now, and Gregory, and now the baby. Again, I really am sorry, Sirius. I hope this letter brings you some relief at least; I don't want to hurt you. I just wanted to let you know. And I wish you all the best.

Gwyneth

I looked up at Sirius in shock, my eyes wide. It struck me just then, that this was the second time in a row the threads of our lives had intersected like this, crashing down to a low point at the exact same time, leaving us in an place where only the other knew the extent of things. To let anyone else in on what was going on would be weeks' worth of story, and hours' worth of explaining.

"That's a bit harsh." I handed the letter back to him. "Writing it in a letter, that you're not the father. Do...do you feel any relief at all?" Looking at his face, I immediately knew it was a stupid question. He let out a harsh, barking laugh.

"I'm supposed to, aren't I?" He took another sip of firewhisky, passing it back to me. "That's what you'd expect from a playboy."

"I don't think you're a playboy," I said immediately, wincing at how disingenuous the words sounded coming from my mouth. Black snorted and shook his head.

"S'okay, Potter, I've always admired your bluntness. Don't stop now on my account."

Taking another swig, I opened my mouth again, emboldened. "Right, then," I began. "You are a playboy, Black. The biggest of them all. So what's the hangup? Aren't you glad you're not going to be changing nappies?"

"Honestly, no. I mean, if you would've told me this a day after, or even two or three days...absolutely. I was desperate to be out. But after that, after it settled...well, I never had a great family. A great Dad. You know that." He gestured vaguely.

As he spoke, I could almost feel the lines blur between what was a regular interaction between us, and whatever this...this other thing was. And deep down, I knew it wasn't just the alcohol.

"And I just was so ready to be something different, I guess," Black continued. "I was determined to be what I never had. Honestly though, this is exactly the reason why I didn't tell anyone. Well, besides you, that is. Deep down I wondered if this was going to happen. It's not like Gwyneth were ever exclusive. But I didn't want to think about it." He threw back another pull of whiskey, passing it to me. Our fingers brushed again as the bottle passed between us, and this time there was no ignoring the spark that sent jolts of electricity throughout my entire body. His eyes flickered to mine in surprise, and I realized that I wasn't the only one feeling it.

Or maybe it was just the firewhisky. I tore my eyes away quickly, with some difficulty, taking a perhaps slightly too large swig. Coughing slightly and putting the bottle back on the ground between us, I looked to him again.

"Are you going to tell James and Remus and Peter?" I asked him, leaning forward.

Sirius shrugged, mirroring my position and leaning forward as well. "Maybe eventually," he admitted. "Though there's not much of a point now, is there?"

"It's still a big deal," I said softly. "You're allowed to be upset about it." Sirius looked at me from the corner of his eye.

"Isa, I'm sorry I've been such an arse to you over the years," he blurted suddenly. "I've been thinking about it lately, and I just wanted you to know that."

I stared at him. "Why have you?"

"What, been an arse?"

"Yes," I pressed, standing up. The very moment I did, all of the firewhiskey I'd drank caught up with me, rushing straight to my head. I stumbled forward, the room slightly blurry around me as I found myself very suddenly pitching forward, right onto my brother's best friend.

"Oh," I gasped, staring in shock at Sirius, who's lap I had quite literally fallen into. He had reached out quickly, putting his hands around my waist to steady me, which was a gallant thought but had now turned into a rather compromising position, with one of my legs still on the floor and the other knee on one side of Sirius's legs. I was basically straddling him. My face was a mere inch away from his, my startled eyes locked onto his. I had never really realized this before, but Sirius's grey eyes were framed with the thickest, darkes lashes I'd ever seen. It just wasn't fair. There should have been a law against receiving every single good gene possible.

"Erm-sorry about that," I breathed, but found myself frozen in place. Sirius continued to stare up at me, his hands warm on my waist. He slid them to my back, and I nearly melted into him.

"S'okay," his voice was breathless, and he was staring at me, drinking me in, like he hadn't seen me, truly seen me, in a lifetime. I realized I was doing the same to him, taking in every detail of his face. Completely without meaning to, my hands came up and rested on his shoulders, fingers twining themselves in his long, dark hair. My body was absolutely betraying me right now; every fiber in me wanted to lean forward, to close the gap between us.

"Is-is this just a drunken thing?" I blurted. "Like last time? Or are we really…?"

"No!" Sirius was vehement. "It's not just a dr-wait!" I could feel his body tense under mine. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear wh-"

Sirius stood abruptly, pulling me up with him in one quick motion, which set my head to spinning again.

"-haven't seen either of them in hours!" I could hear my brother's voice outside. "So piss off, you old sods, I need to check!" Horror dawned on me as I realized what was about to happen, and the warmth that had flooded my body was suddenly extinguished with deep embarrassment. Sirius quickly removed his hands from my back, taking a giant step away from me.

"Prongs!" Sirius blurted as the portrait door swung open. "There you are!"

My brother stumbled in, not looking completely sober himself - the snitch he had, presumably, caught earlier, was fluttering around his head,

His brow furrowed as his head swiveled between Sirius and I, then back again. And then his face widened as realization dawned upon him.

"Padfoot - Isa - what the hell-" James strode forward, and was suddenly grabbing Sirius by the shirt. "What is going on here?" He hissed, his voice dangerously quiet.

"James - stop!" I gasped, rushing forward and trying to remove my brother's grip on Sirius's shirt. Black's face had gone a horrible shade of white, his eyes wide.

"Mate," he gasped, clamping his hands on James's wrists. "I promise, it's not what you think. I would never-"

"That is my little sister. You promised you would never-"

"James!" Suddenly another voice was in the mix, and Marlene McKinnon of all people, was darting forward. She put her hand on his arm, and only then did he seem to calm down a little bit and shake out of his rage. Sirius and I shared a quick look of alarm, and confusion.

"Marlene, what are you doing here?" I asked somewhat waspishly, the firewhiskey buzzing through my veins. "Never mind that. James, can we talk, please?" I poked him in the shoulder, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were still angry, but he'd removed his hands from Sirius's shirt and no longer looked fit to kill, which was an improvement, I'd say.

"Sure," James replied grouchily, tearing his glaring eyes off Sirius and looking back to me. "Let's go, Isa." He put a hand on my shoulder and we exited the room, leaving a jarred Black and confused Marlene.

"What the hell happened back there?" We both turned to each other and simultaneously demanded once we were out of earshot of the other two. We stared at each other for a moment tersely before James cracked a smile, and I began to laugh.

"Seriously though, what the hell were you doing in a broom closet with Sirius? That's where people go to shag, Isa," James shuddered at the thought. I rolled my eyes at him.

"James," I started slowly. "First of all, it wasn't a broom cupboard, it was an office. And second, I wasn't shagging Sirius, and even if it was it wouldn't be your business! You weren't all weirded out when I was shagging Amos-"

"Eurgh!" He plugged his fingers in his ears. "Stop saying the word shag. You're my little sister. And you're right, normally it wouldn't be, but it is if it's my best friend you're shagging. There's a code, you know. And besides, Sirius is...a bit of a slag. In the nicest, most loving way possible."

"You're such a twat," I sighed, exasperated. "It really wasn't like that at all, James, I swear. But anyway, I was in there just because I wasn't feeling well from earlier, and then he happened to walk in while I was there. That's it, I promise."

James stared at me suspiciously as we continued to walk the empty halls. It was now completely dark outside, the only light coming from the braziers. "Alright, I believe you. Marlene and I were just wondering where you both were, is all. I wanted to check on Sirius, too. He didn't show up for the game. Do you know why?"

Immediately my heart leapt into my throat. What was I supposed to say? I kept my eyes on the ground.

"Erm, he didn't really say," I said, still staring at my feet. "I think he was just upset about some family stuff. I'm not really sure, he was pretty drunk."

"I'm a bit off it myself," James admitted. "And, Isa - are you alright? You've been acting a bit off lately, I've been meaning to ask you about it."

I looked at him then, and the words nearly tumbled out of me right then and there. Mum and Dad aren't my biological parents! But the words lodged themselves in my throat, and I just couldn't bring myself to say them. Telling Sirius was one thing. But telling James, my supposed brother, who's image of me and everything we were would absolutely shatter after I told him...well, I wanted to put it off just a bit longer, live in the world we'd been living in for the past seventeen years a bit longer, even if it were a lie.

And I nearly did. I braced myself, opened my mouth-

"James!" I heard Marlene's voice call down the corridors. "Are you ready to head back to the party?"

I whipped my head back towards him, my parental problems momentarily forgotten.

"Oh, and don't think you're getting away that easily - is something going on with you and Marlene?" I hissed, grabbing his arm as he turned back. The tops of his ears were bright red. "Merlin's beard, James. What about Lily?" I asked incredulously, nearly tripping over my own feet. "You've been in love with her since you laid eyes on her first year!"

"Yeah, maybe that's the problem," he mumbled, eyes flickering back towards Marlene, who was quickly approaching.

"Don't think we're done with this conversation," I hissed to him quietly.

Marlene caught up to us, smiling brightly. I had known the girl since first year - I had always been a bit closer with Lily and Dorcas, but still, Marlene was a good, good friend. But if she didn't see that she was getting in the way with something momentous and inevitable - Lily and James - the girl was clueless.

She linked her arm through James, just as yet another figure rounded the corner of the corridor. I tensed up, half expecting it to be McGonagall or another professor, ready to reprimand us and send us straight to detention.

But it was Lily.

She stopped in her tracks, long red hair flowing down long over her shoulders, hands curled at her sides. Her green eyes were wide with shock - and something that looked an awful lot like pain - as she took in James and Marlene, and their linked arms.

"Oh," she said, and James was trying to look anywhere but at her. The tops of his ears were a brighter red than I'd ever seen them. Marlene beamed at Lily, oblivious, as my eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. "I was just - erm, looking for Isa."

"Lils!" I ran forward quickly, linking my arm towards hers. "Come on, let's go back to the -"

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves suddenly screeched, swooping down through the ceiling and chucking bits of chalk at our heads.

"Ouch!" I hissed as one nearly went into my eye. "Peeves, shut the hell up!"

He blew a raspberry at me. "Oi, Potty's feisty tonight! Lucky Peevesy, we have both Pottys, and there are FOUR STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" He continued to bellow, and we started to run.

"Peeves!" James yelled behind us as we stampeded towards the Gryffindor common room. "If you don't stop, I'll tell Filch what you did to Mrs. Norris last week!"

"Won't! Can't!" He laughed gleefully. "You've got no proof!"

"Oh, yes I do!" James retaliated as we ran, breathless, up the stairs. "Venomous Tentacula," he panted once we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Well, it's about time," she grouched at us, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. "Are you aware of the hour?"

"Yes, we're sorry, just let us in please!" Marlene pleaded, sending a nervous glance over her shoulder. We'd be in big trouble if we were caught out of the common room this late, and even bigger trouble if we were discovered to be walking into a party, where there was sure to be drinking.

Grumbling all the way, the Fat Lady let us step into the room. Marlene lead the way, so she didn't see the look pass between James and Lily, but I did. Lily looked at him like he was the only boy in the world, like she was just seeing him for the first time, seeing what she'd lost. James looked as miserable as I'd ever seen him - but then Marlene turned and grabbed his hand, and he rearranged his face. James was a good guy - if he had committed to Marlene, he wasn't going to cheat. But this was going to make a mess for everyone involved. It didn't take a Seer to see that my brother and best friend were slowly falling in love with each other.

My eyes flickered forward, to where Sirius was already in the corner, standing among a group of sixth year Gryffindor girls who were trying to capture his attention. My stomach gave a funny sort of twist as I realized he was looking my way, and we locked eyes as he took a drink from his bottle. He raised it to me in some sort of strange salute. I gave him a quick nod, looking away immediately after so he wouldn't see how warm my face was getting.

"Drinks?" Lily looked at me, eyes dull.

"Drinks," I agreed, linking my arm through my best friend's and resolving to put my troubles behind me. At least for the night.

A/N Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! Can't say it enough guys, it's a day maker! I love all of you! Also, what are we thinking of the slow burn with Isa and Sirius? Is it time to bring them together? Continue the slow burn...?