Author's Note: This is probably one of my favorite chapters that I've ever written. Ugh, killing Lily & James was so horrible, but their funeral? & I do love the whole ball scene. The "kissing your mother" line is a shameless ripoff from "The Nanny".

Chapter 2

Isabelle smoothed her best black dress robes with her hands, critically examining herself in the mirror. Severus would be by her temporary quarters any minute to take her to Lily and James' funeral. Then, they would travel by the Floo system to London Heathrow Airport, where she would board her very first airplane.

Although she wanted to go to New York City, Severus flatly refused. Instead, he chose to move them to Williamsburg, Virginia, the nerve center of the American wizarding world. As the first permanent British settlement, the Jamestown/Williamsburg area quickly became the hub for wizarding activities. Especially since New England, Massachusetts particularly, was quite hostile towards magic and tended to execute suspected witches and wizards.

Her hands shook as she carefully pinned up her hair, causing the necklace that Sirius gave her for her sixteenth birthday to shine in the light. More than anything, she valued that gift and never planned to part with it. A lump caught in her throat as she thought of what he must be going through. Oh, how she wished that she could go to Azkaban to see him, to somehow let him know that she and Gracie were all right.

But, no, I'm going on an all-expenses paid trip to a completely foreign environment, she thought sarcastically. My new home, the middle of nowhere, Virginia. Woo-hoo.

She heard a knock, so she swung the door open with a flick of her wand. Severus stood in the doorway, observing the girl now completely in his care. He felt completely over his head, knowing nothing about raising teenage girls.

"Ready?" he asked. She gave herself a last look in the mirror, and nodded.

"Yes. Here's my bag, if you want to shrink it for travel." She passed him her knapsack, which he reduced to an inch-square cube, which he tucked into his robes.

On their way through the maze of hallways, they ran into Professor Dumbledore, who was also on his way to the funeral. Isabelle nervously gave him a sidelong glance.

"Professor?" she said quietly, removing a parcel from her robes. "Could you possibly do me a favor?"

"Sure," he answered curiously.

"This is James' Invisibility Cloak, and I'd like for Harry to have it. Can you keep it for him until he comes to Hogwarts?"

"Of course." Professor Dumbledore took the package, and gave her a reassuring look. She still wasn't showing any emotional reaction at all.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot," Isabelle exclaimed, pulling a small key ring from her pocket. "This is the key to my vault at Gringotts' main bank. Since I'm legally dead, I can't access any of the funds. Harry's my legal heir, anyway. It's not as if Petunia's going to give him spending money when he comes to Hogwarts, so I want him to enjoy himself."

"Why do you have a vault at the main bank?" Severus asked skeptically.

"It's a long story. But, I earned all the money myself, I swear," she insisted.

"I believe you," Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "How much spending money are you giving your young nephew?"

"A quarter of a million Galleons," Isabelle said proudly. Both men did a double take, but recovered quickly. And neither man really wanted to know how she came across that much money.

Isabelle walked silently in between the two men as they left the castle grounds and walked towards the cemetery. She gasped – it was a mob scene. People jammed the tiny streets, all there to pay their last respects to the Potters. The crowd parted for Professor Dumbledore to pass through, with Isabelle and Severus quickly following in tow. They slipped into the cemetery, completely unnoticed, and made their way to the Potter family plot.

The sight of the two dark teak caskets made her knees buckle, and she wobbled slightly. The coffin on the left had a funeral pall of calla lilies; Isabelle knew immediately that that was her sister's. Besides, she noted with a small smile, the broomstick and other Quiddich regalia on the other coffin wasn't really Lily's style.

She put up the hood on her cloak to ward off the early November chill as the funeral service began. Numbly, she listened to the familiar words of the official. Professor Dumbledore put a supporting hand on her shoulder as the funeral ended and the crowd began to file by.

Family friends, Ministry officials and her classmates from Hogwarts walked right past her, without recognizing her in the slightest. She steeled herself mentally for seeing the coffins and listening to the service, but nothing prepared her for the effects of the Fidelius Charm. When Bill passed by without giving her a second glance, she bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears right then and there.

After an hour, cemetery officials began shepherding the mourners back into Hogsmeade. All of the restaurants in town had set up tables outside their shops, laden with free food and drinks for the crowd. The deaths of the Potters and the subsequent fall of Lord Voldemort deeply touched the wizarding community, and they spared no effort to honor the family that sacrificed so much in the fight for peace and safety.

Professor Dumbledore wished the young pair much success in America, and left to join the mourners, leaving only Isabelle and Severus at the plot. She was quite thankful that the Professor arranged for her to say her final goodbyes in private. Hesitantly, she approached the caskets, running her hand over the smooth, shiny finish.

Suddenly, it occurred to Isabelle that these weren't empty boxes. Her sister's lifeless body was inside that coffin. In a few minutes, she, James and their unborn baby would be lowered into the ground forever. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air as she collapsed to the ground, finally snapping. She pounded the ground hysterically while Severus looked on in horror, not knowing what to do.

"No!" she shrieked desperately. "Not Lily, too! Please God, let this be a nightmare! I want my sister back – she can't be dead."

Isabelle pinched herself repeatedly, as if to jog herself out of a bad dream. "This can't be real. Things weren't supposed to be this way. I need you, Lily. How can I live without you? I've learned everything that I know about being a good person from you."

"You were supposed to help me plan my wedding," she sobbed. "James was supposed to hate my future husband with a passion, and you were going to make him see reason. And Sirius promised to walk me down the aisle. I've lost all of you!"

"What about when I have children? I'm going to need your encouragement that morning sickness ends and babies are worth labor. And, you were supposed to hold my hand through it all, and give me loads of your wonderful advice. Whom can I turn to now?"

"I've lost everyone I love, one by one! How can I live without all of you? I have no one. No one cares about me now. Petunia was glad that I died – can you believe that? Harry's gone forever, and so is Gracie. Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Something about Isabelle's heartfelt words touched Severus. She was right; she didn't do anything to deserve what happened to her. All she did was love her family, and now she had to walk away from everyone and everything that she had ever cared about.

Surprisingly, he discovered that he actually felt sorry for the girl. Nearly bordering on caring about her. As gently as he could, he helped her to her feet and led her out of the cemetery. They had a flight to America to catch, and Severus hoped that time would heal both of their wounds.

-----

Isabelle shifted sullenly in an uncomfortable chair, watching the hordes of people milling around the airplane terminal. Normally, she enjoyed people watching. She loved studying people's facial expressions and interactions with each other. However, today she really just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, which she hurriedly brushed away. She tried to reconcile herself to this new life in America, but the fear of the unknown overwhelmed her. What was America like? Would she like living there? Most of all, how was she supposed to live with a virtual stranger for the next couple of years?

The last question nagged her as she watched the planes take off and land. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. What was she so worried about? If this Severus person could put up with Regina, then he obviously possessed a great deal of patience, for starters.

"What's so funny?" Severus asked, wondering if she had truly gone insane with grief.

"Nothing," she snorted.

Isabelle tried to picture this no-nonsense looking man with the Ice Queen. The mental image just wasn't coming to her. She badly wanted to ask him what he saw in Regina, but she held her tongue. Her survival depended on her ability to get along with this man, and she didn't want to get off on the wrong foot.

"Ok," he said slowly, giving her a funny look.

The look on his face made Isabelle shake from head to toe with laughter. If he thought she was off her rocker, then why on earth did he elope with Regina Potter? Who, quite possibly, could've been the nuttiest woman on planet earth.

Well, he did divorce her, Isabelle reminded herself. Thanks a lot. She was all wrong for Sirius – why didn't anyone else but James see it? Although Gracie is just a doll; I couldn't imagine not having her.

Her heart caught in her throat at the mere thought of Sirius. Still unable to deal with the idea of him in Azkaban prison for the rest of his life, she simply refused to let her mind dwell on it. Maybe once she got settled into her new surroundings, she would be able to face what happened. But until then, she needed to focus on keeping her wits about her and be prepared for whatever the future held.

-----

Sirius briefly lifted his head from his hands to look around the interrogation room. During his tenure at the Ministry, he always wondered how the suspects felt during questioning. Now, he knew. He hated being treated like a common criminal – he didn't do anything wrong! Why couldn't anyone see that he was being framed?

Not that it really matters, he thought hollowly. What do I have to live for? Everyone and everything I've ever cared about is gone, except for Harry. And, as if he'd ever trust me enough to ever let me within a hundred meters of him.

The door opened wide and swung shut. Sirius didn't bother to look up; it was probably one of the hundreds of inept Ministry officials that had interrogated him over the past week. Today promised to be another day of relentless probing into crimes he didn't commit.

"Sirius?" a gentle older female voice asked. His head shot up.

"Abuela?" he said, surprised. She was the last person he expected to visit him.

"How are you, my grandson?" she asked in Spanish, so that the guards couldn't understand their conversation.

"I didn't do it."

"I know that. Now, answer my question please."

He blinked back tears. "Alive, which is more than I can say for--"

"Do not blame yourself for what happened. Voldemort used you, just like everyone else."

"Then why can't the Ministry see that?" he asked angrily. Abuela refused to meet his gaze.

"There are people who believe you had personal reasons to follow the Dark Lord."

"Why? Because my wife died? That's ridiculous." Sirius crossed his arms and sat back in the chair.

"Ah, you are not thinking. Your wife, God rest her soul, is part of it. But, most of the whispering is about your relationship with your father. Or rather, the lack thereof."

"Which is his doing! I spent my entire life trying to get his attention, trying to make him proud," Sirius protested.

"Exactly. And the--" Abuela let out a string of curses that made her grandson proud, "excuse of a father has the gall to say that you joined forces with Lord Voldemort to get back at him."

Suddenly, he felt very stupid. "Pettigrew thought of everything, didn't he? Everyone knows that my father and Tom Riddle were enemies at Hogwarts. In fact, Riddle beat out Father for Head Boy by only two marks, or something like that. That divided Slytherin house into two factions, if I remember the story correctly. I'll never forget how disappointed he was when I was sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin."

The older woman smiled at the memory. "You have too much of your mother in you."

"Yeah, well, that's why he can't stand the sight of me, right? How could he think that I hate him enough to turn against the only family I've ever known – the Potters? That's so typically him. Everything's about him," Sirius seethed.

"You don't hear an argument from me," Abuela agreed, taking a copy of the Daily Prophet out of her large handbag. "I almost left this at home. But, you're going to hear about this sooner or later, so I figured that you should find out from someone who loves you."

"What now?" he asked tensely. He flipped open the paper and flinched at the headline: Financier Denounces Son's Involvement in Halloween Killing Spree; Mourns Lost Granddaughter.

"Oh, come on. Look at this – he's giving quotes to the Prophet like he actually knew or cared about Grace. What!? He actually testified before the Ministry against me? This is unbelievable." Sirius buried his head in his arms. How could this be happening?

-----

Across the Atlantic Ocean, an incredibly nervous Isabelle stepped onto the grounds of Spotswood Academy, clutching her schedule like a lifeline. Like most of the buildings in Williamsburg, it was built in the colonial style. The breathtaking grounds with their perfectly groomed hedges and large, beautiful trees intimidated her.

She took a deep breath and walked up the marble staircase, smoothing out her new school uniform with her free hand as she went. A loud bell sounded, echoing through the crowded hallways, making Isabelle jump several feet in the air.

"Excuse me?" she asked a young, freckle faced man politely. "Can you tell me where Room 116 is?"

He pointed her in the right direction, and she hurried to homeroom, whatever that was. As she took in her new surroundings, she thought about the events of the past few days.

After landing at Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C., she and Severus met with an old associate of his, Robert McNamara. With new identities in hand, they purchased a car and drove to Williamsburg, Virginia. They settled in a small, but comfortable apartment, and registered Isabelle in classes at the prestigious Spotswood Academy.

Sighing, she pushed open the door of Room 116. A cacophony of noise assaulted her ears; at least twenty-five loud girls were talking at the top of their lungs. She walked up the oblivious teacher.

"Excuse me, is this eleventh-grade girls' homeroom?" Isabelle asked hopefully.

"Yup," the teacher answered without looking from her paper. "Just find an empty chair."

"Thank you," she said, but the teacher wasn't listening.

Isabelle quietly slid into a chair in the far corner of the classroom, and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. The first day in a new school was never any fun, especially under circu.mstances like this.

So, she grabbed a magazine out of her bookbag, and buried herself in it, hoping that no one would bother with her. She didn't have to worry, because as soon as Isabelle began to read an article on the three things that always makes a relationship last, the entire room went silent. Curious, she looked up.

A tall brunette paused in the doorway for dramatic effect before entering the room. Everyone gaped as she took her seat in the exact middle of the classroom. Astonishingly beautiful, the girl flipped her hair behind her shoulders before saying a word.

"Hey, Nikki," one of the girls shouted from across the room. "How was Scotland?"

"Cold. It's good to be home," the brunette called back in a nearly undecipherable Southern drawl, at least to Isabelle anyway.

"Must be nice to have a father who's the head of the OMA so that you can go on vacation any time you please," a pimple-faced blonde said snidely.

OMA? Isabelle puzzled. Oh, yes – the Office of Magical Affairs, the American version of the Ministry of Magic.

"Whatever, Lucy. This was no vacation. I was stuck doing the diplomat's daughter thing almost the entire time. I barely even spent any time in London." Nikki rolled her eyes.

"So, what was the Potters' funeral like? We want the details," Lucy pressed.

Isabelle felt like every square inch of air had been sucked out of her lungs. Not only was her sister dead, she had to listen to someone else giving her version of events? She slouched in her seat, praying that she would remain invisible.

Full of her own importance, Nikki sat on top of her desk so everyone could see and hear her, like she was a queen holding court. "First of all, the funeral was boring as hell. And, tacky too. You'll never believe this – whoever decided the funeral palls put Quiddich stuff on James Potter's casket. Ok, so he won the World Cup for England like eight years ago or something. Big stinking deal. You would've thought they'd have more class than that."

"Why didn't Phillip go with you? I saw him around town all week," another girl asked cattily.

"Because," she huffed, "he refused to go to the funerals because of the Evans girl. Something about me not having respect for the dead and he didn't want to put up with my fake sympathy. Can you believe that? I am sympathetic that all of them died – I'd just rather go shopping than suffer through a funeral of people I barely know. Is that such a crime?"

"Of course not," the girl answered sympathetically. "So, did your man cheat on you with the Evans girl?"

"Don't even get me started on that little tramp," Nikki seethed.

Isabelle sat up, surprised. Who is this girl, and why does she hate me? she wondered. And, she really needs to shut up about my sister's funeral before I knock her teeth out.

"Why? What happened?" Lucy asked innocently.

"Well, remember when the Ministry of Magic in London invited my family to the annual Christmas Ball last year?" Everyone nodded jealously. "It has to do with that."

"Um, details?" a girl named Becky asked. At least, that's the name scrawled on the back of her notebook.

"It's the social event of the season, and is incredibly exclusive. Only the inner circle of the Ministry is invited to go. So, my parents, Phillip and I were at the ball mingling, when the entire room shuts up because the Potters and Blacks have arrived and are getting ready to make their entrance," Nikki continued.

"Their entrance?" Lucy squealed.

"Yes, like they're royalty or something. The way the room's set up, you enter by walking down a massive red-carpeted staircase. So, James Potter, his mudblood wife and son come in the room and everyone's cheering and clapping. Y'all won't believe what happened next."

She paused for dramatic effect. "Sirius Black walks into the ballroom escorting the Evans girl, like she was his social equal!"

"No way," a girl breathed.

"I couldn't believe it either. The girl walks down the staircase like she's the Queen of England or something, with one arm in Sirius Black's, and the other holding his daughter Grace. That mudblood obviously doesn't know her station."

Isabelle's jaw clenched. How dare she talk about her family this way? Besides, she remembered things a little differently…

"What's wrong, Belle?"

"Nothing."

"It has to be something, or you wouldn't be dragging your feet like that. Especially since I know that you've been looking forward to spiking the punch with Bill and Charlie all week," he said with a teasing grin.

"I wish Remus was here, that's all." She looked down at her robes again.

"Why?"

"So he could escort me into the room," Isabelle said quietly. "I love the ball; I just hate walking into the room with all of those eyes staring at me. Especially since I walk in last, like I'm the tag-along, an afterthought."

"I never knew you felt that way."

"It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Isabelle. Look at me." He lifted her chin so that his concerned eyes looked into hers'. "You are not a tag-along, or an afterthought. You're a very important part of this family, not a second-class citizen."

Sirius passed her the baby and offered her his arm. "Well, ready to make our grand entrance?"

"Yes, I am," she beamed, taking his arm and walking into the room.

As she walked down the stairs with Sirius and Gracie, she felt like for at least this one moment, her dreams had come true. She truly felt like a princess, and wished that the staircase would never end. Midway down, she caught Bill's eye, who let out a piercing wolf-whistle. She blushed slightly, but maintained her composure. This was by far the happiest moment of her life…

"What does that have to do with your man?" Becky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm getting to that," Nikki drawled. "Ok, so the ball begins and the Evans girl just flits around the room, laughing and talking to everyone like she's the belle of the ball, not the poor relation she really is. Or, maybe she was flirting with every man there because she needs to snag a rich man to keep her place in society."

Isabelle's jaw dropped. Flirting with every man there? she thought in amazement. Not hardly.

"There you are."

Isabelle looked up from where she was playing on the floor with little Gracie and Harry. There were several rooms off the main ballroom for the children to entertain themselves in, complete with a full staff to cater to their every need.

"Where have you been, Superman?" she joked.

"Looking for you." Bill gave her an evil grin. "Seems you're pretty popular these days though. Thought that I might have to take a number just to get a chance to say hello."

She threw a pillow at him. "You're full of it. I like to dance, that's all. And a lot of those poor boys can't tell their left foot from their right. So, those horrid snobby girls certainly won't dance with them."

"True. Hey, did you bring the stuff?" he asked meaningfully. Isabelle rushed over to her cloak and pulled out an unopened bottle of Vipertooth Vodka.

"Time to have a little fun," she laughed. "Maybe we can pour some into those snobs' drinks, so they'll loosen up a bit."

"Good idea." He put down the toddler he was holding to examine the label. "Nice choice. This is some potent stuff, Dungeon Girl. I'm so proud. These kids, they grow up so fast."

She swatted at him as he pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "Speaking of kids, check that out."

Isabelle pointed at the rug in front of the fireplace, where Bill's baby brother Ron managed to toddle over to Harry and Gracie. They were happily playing together, which Isabelle found incredibly odd because Gracie didn't like to share Harry with anyone. She crept closer, and to her amazement, the little girl was smiling and cooing at the redheaded baby, who smiled back.

"Uh, Bill? I think my Gracie fancies your brother."

"What can I say? Ron's got the Weasley charm. We're bloody irresistible."

She snorted. "Sure you are. Delusional, too. Ok, I think we can leave them for a minute or two to get this party started right, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

Identical wicked grins spread over their faces as they snuck into the main ballroom and headed towards the punch bowl…

"Meanwhile," Nikki interrupted Isabelle's memories, "I'm looking all over for my boyfriend, who's suddenly disappeared off the face of planet earth. Guess where I find him? Dancing with tha-that Evans tramp!"

"No way," Lucy breathed.

"Oh, yes. And they weren't just dancing. She was all over him. It was disgusting."

"I can't believe Phillip would do that to you!" another girl said comfortingly. "You must've been humiliated. He's lucky that you're still with him."

Phillip? That name sounded strangely familiar to Isabelle, but it took her a couple of minutes to place him.

"Come on, can't you ask your parents to let you go home with us?" she pleaded as Bill put on his cloak.

"I don't think it'll work. The point is that Mum doesn't want us to be exposed to what happens when everyone's had a little too much to drink."

Isabelle straightened his cloak collar and frowned at him sadly. "Well, have a merry Christmas Superman, and I can't wait to see you on the train in a couple of weeks."

"Have a merry Christmas yourself," he replied, hugging her awkwardly.

She sighed, and looked out into the main ballroom. Every year, the Weasleys left at exactly ten thirty, leaving Isabelle to entertain herself for hours before her family was ready to go home. Already a little bored, she flopped into a chair in the corner, accidentally sitting on someone. She jumped up, incredibly embarrassed.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" she apologized.

"Not a problem," came a deep voice.

The young man stood up, and stepped out of the shadows. Isabelle gasped unconsciously – he could perhaps be the best looking man that she'd ever seen. Other than Sirius, of course. His beautiful blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he extended his hand.

"Forgive me for not properly introducing myself," he drawled charmingly. "I'm Phillip Spence, and you are?"

"Evans. Isabelle Evans," she choked out, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Nice to meet you Isabelle Evans." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. She nearly melted; this was like something out of Gone with the Wind.

"You, too," she said in a daze.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a crooked, boyish grin as he ran a nervous hand through his short, curly blonde hair. Even in dress robes, she could make out his chiseled athletic build.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Isabelle said conversationally. "Does someone in your family work for the Ministry?"

He laughed. "No, I'm here with my girlfriend Nicole Sullivan. Her father works for the OMA in America."

"I see."

Girlfriend, she repeated to herself sadly. So much for that. Well, he looks lonely, and making a new friend is better than nothing.

"I'm going to check on my nephew. Would you like to walk with me?" she asked. "Sure," he replied eagerly.

Anything was better than sitting alone in that chair, so he crossed the room and carefully sat down on the rug beside her.

"This is my nephew Harry," she pointed. "And, this is Grace. So, where do you live in America?"

"Williamsburg. I grew up there, and it's a pretty nice place to be. I'm in college right now on an athletic scholarship." He winced at the last part, knowing that made him sound poor.

"Muggle college?" He nodded hesitatingly. "What sport do you play?"

"Soccer. I guess y'all call it football," he joked.

"Really? I watched a lot of football games over the summer when I was researching my Muggle Studies project. Fascinating sport. Except that I don't quite understand the offside rule. Could you explain it to me?"

Phillip's eyes widened. "Are you sure? I can kind of ramble once I get started."

"Good! I want to learn all about the sport." She sat up eagerly. This would be great research for her project, not to mention getting to hear his incredibly sexy accent.

Isabelle got the attention of one of the many house elves bustling around the rooms, and had a tray of snacks and drinks brought to them. They sampled the tray while chatting about the finer points of soccer. Phillip was amazed; he'd never met a girl who actually liked to talk about sports before.

"Excuse my nosiness, but didn't you say that you had a girlfriend?" she asked, shocked at her own forwardness.

"In a manner of speaking," he replied honestly. "We're not serious, if that's what you're asking. I don't really have much time for a relationship between school and soccer."

"So, what are you studying in college?"

He took a quick swallow of his drink. "I'm a double major in business and history. But, enough about me – I want to hear about you."

"There's really not much to tell," Isabelle said shyly as her face turned pink. She nodded towards the ballroom, where Nikki was mingling with her mother, the picture of poise and elegance. "I'm not exactly in the same class as your girlfriend over there."

"That's for sure."

Her face turned even redder at the admiring look in his eyes, and she looked down bashfully. "What I mean is, that I'm not, you know, well-traveled or sophisticated. I've never even been off the British Isles, not even to Paris."

"Well, I've never been to Paris, either, so we're in the same boat here. In fact, this is my first trip across the pond," he drawled with a charming smile. "But, I really like what I see so far."

"Oh, me too. That is – I mean, er, that I like what I've seen of America," she stuttered, drowning in his eyes.

Before Phillip could reply, a tall shadow fell over the rug.

"Isabelle, what on earth are you doing?" James asked sharply, scooping up Harry.

"Just talking. Why?" she inquired innocently.

"Sod off, James," Lily interrupted quietly. "Let the girl have a little fun. Besides, she has to grow up sometime."

"Oh, come on! He's a Yank – they're nothing but trouble," he said firmly.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I'm not a Yank. American, yes. Yankee, no," Phillip interjected, swallowing nervously as James' face flushed with anger.

"Then, what are you?" the older wizard asked through clenched teeth.

"A Southerner, and a Virginian. Big difference, sir."

Sirius watched the scene with amusement. He couldn't help admiring this young American man, but knew if he didn't do something, he would experience James' temper first-hand. James was incredibly overprotective when it came to Isabelle. Not that he wasn't of course, but he couldn't help having a little fun with his best mate.

"I don't blame Isabelle a bit for keeping company with the Southerner, James," he said in a loud voice. "Especially since everyone knows that kissing an Englishman is like kissing your mother."

"What did you say, you bloody Scottish Spaniard?" he exploded, starting a loud row.

"Hey," Isabelle hissed quietly. "Follow me."

She slowly crept away from the rug with Phillip in tow. They inched along the side of the room until reaching the main dance floor, where they both sighed with relief.

"Sorry about that," he apologized sheepishly.

"About what? That was the most fun my family's been in ages," Isabelle laughed.

"You never did answer my question," Phillip reminded her.

"Oh." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, everything that's important to me is in this room, actually. You're already met my family; they mean the world to me. When I'm not with them or at school, I'm dancing. That's about it."

"You're a dancer?"

She nodded. "Ballet, mostly, but I do a little of everything. Whatever Madame Bordeaux's in the mood to teach."

"In that case, may I have this dance?"

Isabelle practically swooned at his polite Southern drawl. He gently took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nikki shooting her daggers with her eyes. Isabelle felt that if the girl really cared, she wouldn't have abandoned the poor boy.

When the music started, she decided to teach the American priss a lesson. With a wicked grin, she stepped closer to Phillip until they were practically touching. To her surprise, he was a fantastic dancer. She had never had so much fun on a dance floor before, completely unaware that they were creating quite a display.

"You're good at this," she exclaimed.

"What, do you think that I get invited to these functions because of my Southern charm?" he winked. "Between us, Nikki has two left feet, so she needs me to make her look good. I wouldn't imagine that your boyfriend would be too happy if he was here right now, though."

"Nah, we're kind of on a break. That's why I didn't bring him to the dance."

"You mean that you're not dating that redhead that I saw you with earlier?"

"Bill?" Isabelle's face pursed up. "No, he's like my brother. That would just be weird."

"I see. Then, no one would be objecting if I did this."

He flashed her a wicked grin and slid his hand to the small of her back, making her head spin a little. Isabelle felt like nothing existed except for the two of them, and the music. For the first time, she didn't wish that she were dancing with Sirius, instead. In fact, she nearly forgot that he was there.

"That's just tacky," Becky exclaimed, jarring Isabelle from her memories.

"Tell me about it," Nikki fumed. "And, you won't believe what that Evans tramp did next. Picture this: My parents are ready to leave, right? So, I go to the coatroom to fetch my cloak, because Phillip is nowhere to be around to get it for me. Guess what he was doing?"

"No," Lucy breathed.

"Oh, yes. Making out with that skinny blonde tart," she spat.

Isabelle gasped and turned bright red at the thought that anyone, let alone Nikki, saw that. Especially since it was such a sweet, private moment…

"Here, let me help you with that," Phillip said. He took Isabelle's cloak from her hands and helped her into it.

"Thank you."

"Your cloak matches your eyes," he noted. "You have beautiful eyes."

"Thank you," she repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"I had a really good time tonight. Is there any chance that maybe I could write to you?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head softly.

"What would be the use? Your life is in America, and mine is here. And that will never change. My priorities, my future is here. Tonight has been wonderful; don't get me wrong. But, we'll probably never see each other again, and there's no use pretending otherwise," she said practically.

"I know. You're completely right. So, since I'll never see you again, here's something to remember me by," he drawled.

Before Isabelle realized what was going on, he leaned down and kissed her slowly. She began to protest, but instead found her arms winding around his neck to keep him from pulling away…