Chapter 5: "Anastasia" Revisited

Severus pulled the car up to a dilapidated apartment building and stopped in front of a half burned out sign that read "Office". He turned the car off and opened the door, internally smiling at Isabelle's look of utter shock and disbelief.

"You're kidding me, right?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I'm afraid not," he said grimly. "This is all we could afford with what Professor Dumbledore gave us. Apparently there's a freeze on your family's assets, and if he took out more money, people might get suspicious."

Isabelle looked like she might cry any second as she looked around. The two-story building looked like a third-rate motel building that had been abandoned for twenty years or so. The doors to the apartments were at least two different, mismatching colors of peeling paint. Her eyes traveled from the apartments to the rusty stairs and rickety balconies.

Home sweet home, she thought miserably. A hot tear ran down the side of her face before she could brush it away. Luckily Severus didn't see it, having gone inside to fill out the necessary paperwork. She managed to compose herself before he returned, and even smiled feebly when they walked into the dank, cramped space.

Severus took a look around, pulled out his wand, and started cleaning and fixing the place up. Immediately, the apartment looked much nicer, which inspired Isabelle to start cleaning as well. In short order, they had a spotless, tidy little home.

"Much better," she said approvingly, enlarging her bedroom furniture and arranging the room to suit her. Hopefully, she could talk him into spending a little money for decorations. Despite being small, the apartment seemed awfully sparse.

Isabelle bounded down the rusted, unstable staircase to the car and popped open the trunk. Since deciding to teach Isabelle himself, Severus took the new responsibility quite seriously. So, he owled Professor Dumbledore for a list of supplies and recommended course subjects. Dumbledore's response was somewhere in the trunk, she hoped. Isabelle wanted to find it before Severus realized that she lost it in the first place.

She was so sick with worry that she didn't notice a tall, blonde man staring at her like he was looking at a ghost. The man blinked a few times before grabbing a huge bag from the backseat of his car. He shook his head, as if to clear his mind, and disappeared from view right as Isabelle triumphantly grabbed the list from the far right corner of the trunk.

-----

Phillip Spence opened the door to his shared apartment, and slammed it with a terrific bang that rattled the Budweiser clock on the living room wall. Uncaring, he pitched his soccer bag across the room. He stormed to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and threw himself on the dilapidated sofa.

"Welcome home, Mr. Sunshine," a dark-haired, college-age man said sarcastically while flipping channels on the television.

"Shut up, Jake," Phillip warned.

The two men silently watched a college football game, each lost in his own thoughts. Seeing the blonde woman in the parking lot put Phillip in an incredibly bad mood. And, he knew that if he brought up the subject, Jake would make fun of him, as usual. So he sat and stewed until his friend couldn't take it any longer.

"What's with you?" Jake asked.

"Nothing," he replied shortly.

"Drinking during conditioning? Phillip, I've known you since we were in preschool, and I've never seen you do that," he pointed out.

"Well, now you have." He clenched his jaw and stared at the TV blankly.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with the Wicked Witch of Williamsburg? Because if you've gotten back with her, I swear--"

"You swear what?" Phillip snapped.

"I swear that if the Witch ever steps within fifty feet of my sister, and/or calls Sarah Lindsay trailer park trash again, that I'll disregard that she's a woman and knock her lights out," he barked, clenching his fists.

"That was a little over the top, even for Nikki. No worse than what she said about Isabelle Evans, though." His face remained impassive, but Jake wasn't fooled.

"Man, you need to get over this obsession," he told Phillip, who turned up his bottle and finished the drink in one large gulp.

"It's not an obsession," Phillip said defensively. "I saw this girl in the parking lot, and--"

"And she was tall, thin, and blonde. Chances are that she even had pretty green eyes. Do you know how many girls fit that profile?" His brow furrowed. Sometimes he really worried about his friend.

"Too many. But there was something about this one. She had this aura. It's hard to explain."

"Phillip, Isabelle Evans is dead," Jake said quietly. "Wanting her to be alive won't bring her back."

"They never found a body," he replied stubbornly.

"Because there probably wasn't much left of her. We both know this. It's time that you accepted her death, and moved on."

"But there have been rumors," Phillip protested feebly, his voice trailing off.

Jake snorted, in spite of himself. "There are always rumors. Like after the Russian Revolution and they never found the bodies of that Russian princess chick and her brother."

"Anastasia."

"Do what?"

"The Russian princess chick's name is Anastasia. I took Russian history last semester," Phillip shrugged.

"Impressive. Why do you care so much about the Evans girl, anyway? You only met her once," Jake wondered.

"Once was enough. This girl was beyond top shelf." He smiled slowly at the memory. "Not only was she hot, she was brilliant. Oh, and she liked soccer."

"Lots of girls like soccer. Speaking of, I know this girl April. She's not exactly Lady Isabelle," Jake snickered, using his favorite nickname for Phillip's crush, "but she's not half bad for a townie girl."

Phillip rolled his eyes. "I'll pass. I don't have much luck with townie girls. Come to think of it, I don't have much luck with women, period. I think I'm cursed."

"Maybe the fair Lady Isabelle hexed you with a love charm, so that you'll eternally pine away for her." He clutched his sides laughing while his friend shot him a poisonous look. "Sorry man, couldn't help myself. I'm heading over to Dad's for dinner. Interested in a free meal?"

"Nah. I'll sit here and pine," Phillip said acidly.

"Suit yourself." Jake grabbed his car keys and left the apartment, still laughing.

-----

Three apartments down, Isabelle took a break from arranging her mountains of books on the bookshelf and went to the kitchen to grab a Coke. Stacey got her hooked on the Muggle beverage; even Severus drank one every now and then. She wiped her forehead off on her brow. Despite well-placed cooling charms, the apartment was stifling hot.

So, she decided to brave the very unstable-looking balcony to get some fresh, if not cool, air. Luckily, there was a nice breeze. Isabelle closed her eyes and basked in the brief respite from the hot, humid Virginia summer. When she opened her eyes again, she gasped and clutched the railing for dear life.

"Sirius?" she whispered, falling to her knees and peering through the iron bars.

On the ground, not twenty feet away from her, the living image of Sirius Black walked through the parking lot. Everything about the man was the same – the confident, reckless attitude, the dark, longish hair, his slender, but athletic build. Her eyes blurred with tears, and by the time she could see again, the man was gone.

"No!" she croaked nearly inaudibly. "Come back! Please come back…"

However, although she lay there for nearly a half hour, the man never returned. Isabelle began to wonder if she was seeing things. She knew that she wasn't hallucinating, but she had no idea what it was that she saw. Perhaps the man was just a Sirius look-alike. After all, Sirius was a famous and important man; his personal style often set the trends. But that would mean that the look-alike was a wizard, which was highly unlikely in this area of Williamsburg.

If the image wasn't a living man, then what was it? Isabelle wondered. Her hands suddenly clutched her heart. What if that was Sirius' wraith? She had heard of wraiths before, where an image of a dying person appeared to a loved one. But that would mean that Sirius was near death! The mere idea shattered Isabelle.

Or worse still – that Sirius had already died, and become a ghost. Cursed to wander the earth until he completed his life's work. Isabelle could only guess that that work would be to avenge the deaths of her family.

"Isabelle?" she heard Severus' voice behind her. "Are you all right?"

She swallowed back her tears, and composed herself. "Yes, I'm fine."

Somehow, Isabelle picked herself off the balcony, and walked back into her room. She curled up in a little ball on her bed, not moving until the sun set. When the moon rose, she excused herself to take a walk in the night air.

She wandered around town for a little while, daydreaming, finally coming home. She decided to climb up the fire escape. Since she was a girl, she always sought out the highest, most remote places possible to think. On her way up the shaky ladder, Isabelle thought about the afternoon's events. She became certain that it was her Discerner gifts that allowed her to see the wraith-like vision.

While it was nice to see a more tangible version of Sirius, the pain of the experience outweighed any small pleasure the sight gave her. As the thought, she determined that using her Discerner abilities had brought her nothing but trouble from the first. However, she didn't fault Mummy P in the slightest for training her.

Isabelle knew that the older witch would never make her suffer needlessly. And sometime in the future, she would probably need every ounce of magical abilities she possessed. But now, her gifts frightened, not comforted her. So, she chose to consciously close off her mind to being a Discerner, and live as a normal witch. Well, as normal of a witch as she could possibly be.

When she reached the flat roof, she didn't notice that she wasn't alone, and aimlessly wandered around. Phillip couldn't believe his eyes. There she was, the mystery girl. And as Jake predicted, she fit the profile perfectly, in looks at least. Phillip swallowed nervously, half-afraid to speak to her. And he was completely afraid of the inevitable feeling of disappointment when she didn't turn out to be Isabelle Evans.

"Good evening," he said politely. Her huge, green doe eyes focused on his face, startled.

"Feasgar math," she replied, unknowingly lapsing into Gaelic. The effort it required to stifle being a Discerner made Isabelle completely forget to concentrate on speaking English.

"Excuse me?" Phillip looked lost. Was she speaking a foreign language? She laughed, blushing a little.

"I said good evening," Isabelle explained. "It's Irish Gaelic."

Instead of the usual knife in the gut reaction, her odd British-sounding accent gave him hope. "Oh. Are your parents Irish, then?"

"My mother was," she said simply, gazing upwards at the stars.

"I'm sorry, then."

Isabelle looked down at this strange man, and discreetly checked him out. Although she couldn't put a finger on it, something about him seemed somewhat familiar. Perhaps it was the intuitive way he figured out that her mother was dead, she mused. She had met few people who were that perceptive.

"Thank you. Mum died when I was six, so I don't really remember her," Isabelle admitted. "I didn't mean to invade your space. I'll just be leaving now."

She turned to leave, but not before smiling flirtatiously at the stranger. Phillip didn't want her to go, but didn't want to seem creepy, either. So, he decided to do the next best thing to asking her to stay.

"Um, my roommates and I are having a party this Saturday night. If you don't have any other plans, why don't you drop by? The party'll be going on all night," he asked with his most winning smile. Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I'll keep that in mind." And with that, she disappeared back down the fire escape.

-----

Isabelle sat on top of the apartment building, gazing at the sky, as was her new evening custom. Despite everything that had changed in her life over the years, this was one little routine that she cherished, and would never give up. She squinted her eyes, focusing on Sirius' star, wondering how he was faring in prison.

Her jaw clenched as she tried not to cry. She made a pact to herself that she wouldn't cry about it anymore, and concentrated on getting her own life together. Severus was right – that's what everyone in her family would want, including Sirius.

Well, she thought, I could either sit up here all night feeling sorry for myself, or I could get on with my life.

She resolutely stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirt after deciding to make an appearance at the party the boys across the hall were throwing. Severus was out for the night with Stacey, anyway, and she didn't want to spend the night alone. She climbed down the fire escape, nervously walked through the hallway and into the open door.

Spending the winter in California acclimated her to the American style of partying, so she calmly walked around the clumsily dancing couples and grabbed a drink out of the refrigerator, impressed that there was a bottle opener on the counter. Still feeling shy, she tipped up the bottle and chugged it down, quickly followed by three others.

"Glad you could make it," she heard a voice holler over the music. Her smile mesmerized Phillip as she crossed the kitchen, drink in hand. His eyes traveled over her tall, slender frame, struck anew by her beauty.

"Thanks. Nice party," Isabelle shouted.

"Thanks," he repeated, lost in her enormous green eyes. He couldn't bear to look at her, because she reminded him of bittersweet memories. But he was magnetically attracted to her for the exact same reasons.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"No, nothing at all," he lied, internally wincing at her British accent. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure."

They put down their drinks and muscled their way into the packed living room. Phillip was incredibly relieved. At least when they were dancing, he didn't have to hear her talk. He quickly realized that as horrible as listening to her accent was, it was nothing compared to dancing with her.

The way she smiled playfully at him while sliding her arms around his neck, how her hips swayed perfectly with the beat – she was the embodiment of temptation, even if she didn't remind him so much of Isabelle Evans. She loved the way he reacted to her advances, and the effects of a dozen drinks began to cloud her judgment.

"What's your name, anyway? You never did tell me," he said loudly in her ear.

"Isabelle," she called back, thankful that Severus allowed her to use her real name.

Phillip stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her as if she'd grown another head. Could this be – he wouldn't even let himself finish the thought. "Oh. Where are you from?"

"Dover, England," she replied foolishly. After all, what did it matter if a Muggle knew her hometown?

"How'd you get to Virginia, of all places?" he asked as casually as possible. She giggled.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she slurred.

"Try me."

"I don't mind if I do." She tilted her head up, kissed him seductively and looked at him through sultry eyes. "Is there anywhere we can go that's a little more private?"

"Uh, my bedroom," he offered without thinking. She took his hand and led him to the back of the apartment.

"So, which of these rooms belongs to you?"

"This one." He pointed to the left room.

Isabelle led him inside, closed the door and roughly pushed him against it, kissing him with every ounce of passion that she could muster. Surprised, to say the very least, he gently pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hurt and a little embarrassed.

"It's just that I don't know anything about you, for starters," he babbled, putting a few steps' distance between them.

"There's really not much to tell," unaware that she had used those words before. Phillip stared at her like she was a ghost. "Oh, I think there is."

"Even if I do have a past, I'm not going to talk about it. So, can we drop the subject and dwell on more pleasant things?" She closed the gap between them and reached for him again. This time, he didn't stop her. "You know, you're awfully nosy for a Muggle."

"Muggle?!?" he asked, realizing that she was drunk out of her mind. Either she was babbling, or—

"Yeah, a Muggle. Non-magical person, but that's all right. I'm Muggle-born, so I'm not as picky."

"How picky are you?" he wondered. He wasn't exactly the one-night stand type of person. In fact, he had no clue how he got into this situation in the first place.

Isabelle laughed and twirled around before flopping on the bed. "Too picky lately. I swear, I'm turning into a real prude. In fact, it's been a year and a half since I've even kissed a guy. So, I'm in the mood for a little fun, ok?"

He quickly did the math in his head. "Do you remember who you kissed last?"

"Yup, but he was a wizard, though."

"What was his name?" he insisted, sitting beside her and waiting impatiently for her answer.

"Phillip Spence. His girlfriend's a real bitch, though. Well, ex-girlfriend. I broke them up, and I wasn't even around. She deserved it for calling my big sister a gold-digging mudblood."

He looked at her in awe. How did Isabelle Evans end up in his bedroom? She looked at him through tortured eyes, and he instinctively grabbed her into a tight, protective embrace. Did she even realize how lucky she was that she spilled her secrets to him, and not to someone who would hurt her?

"I'm sorry about your sister," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry about everything. How did you end up here?"

"Severus made me come back. I'm so scared," she sniffled, too drunk to shut up. "I'm always scared."

"How can I help you?" he asked with a tight voice, feeling guilty that he was so happy that she was alive and in his bed, not necessarily in that order.

"Make me forget. Take the pain away, even if it's just for tonight," she begged. There was no mistaking her intentions.

Phillip couldn't force himself to let go of her. Tomorrow, he'd own tell her everything, starting with that he was a wizard. And, that he knows exactly who she really is, which would probably not go over well. So, he planned to make the best impression of himself humanly possible tonight and hope for the best.

-----

What on earth did I do last night? Isabelle thought, panicky, sitting up and rubbing her eyes to wake up.

She looked around the foreign room, eyes finally resting on the blonde man sprawled out on the bed. Instinctively, she pulled the covers around her tightly, not as if it would make a difference. What was done was done, and her sudden shyness wouldn't change anything.

Not having her wand with her, she concentrated on the little bit of wandless magic that Severus had taught her over the past few months, and cast a sleeping charm on her companion. Having a one-night stand was horrible enough; having to face him in the morning was nothing short of humiliation.

Isabelle picked up a t-shirt and a pair of shorts off a clean stack of clothes in front of the closet, and pulled them on. She cracked the door and crept across the hallway to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she felt remarkably more human. And hungry.

When she opened the door again, her nose wrinkled in distaste. One thing she never understood about American parties was how the guests trashed the place and then left. The apartment was beyond messy. So, she decided to practice her wandless magic again. Everything was immaculate within short order, probably even cleaner than before the party.

A tall brunette let herself in the apartment. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Isabelle rifling through the refrigerator in the kitchen, but she kept her cool. Chances are that the girl was some random hookup of Jake's. He certainly had enough of those.

As she passed the kitchen, Isabelle's attire caught her eye – a deep green William and Mary t-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts. The brunette's jaw clenched furiously, and she quietly marched down the hallway and disappeared. Oblivious, Isabelle grabbed an apple off the counter and polished it on the t-shirt. When she looked up, her skin literally crawled.

Why is Nikki Sullivan standing in the doorway? Isabelle wondered. And why is she holding my sandals?

"Excuse me," the brunette said in an icy tone. "I believe these are yours?"

Something clicked in Isabelle's mind. If that was Nikki Sullivan, then the blonde man in the door was bound to be – what is his name? She searched the depths of her memory, but drew a complete blank.

"Well?" Nikki tapped her foot impatiently. "I found them in Phillip's room. Are they your shoes or not?"

Phillip! Isabelle thought. Phillip Spence. The boy I met a couple of years ago in London. But how on earth did I end up with him? And, what did I say to him? I don't remember a thing from last night!

Oh, how she wanted to smack the triumphantly obnoxious look off Nikki's face! After Isabelle smacked her silly, she wanted to pound her into the ground for what she said about Lily. But, Isabelle kept her cool; instead, she marched past her and into the hallway. Only then did hot tears stream down her face as she ran into her own apartment.

She rushed through the living room, flung herself on her bed, and sobbed despondently. Never in her life had she felt more humiliated. She knew coming back to Williamsburg was a bad idea. Wasn't that what she told Severus not two weeks ago? That she had minor acquaintances here that may recognize her?

But no, Severus said that she'd be fine, as long as she stuck to the Muggle parts of town. As a peace offering, he even let her use the assumed identity that she made up in Abilene. Why couldn't they have stayed in New York City? Or Los Angeles? Big cities, where she could hide and blend amongst millions of people. Why did Severus bring her to a small town where it took her less than a week to have a fling with Phillip Spence, of all people?

Talk about a blast from the past, Isabelle thought ruefully. From what she remembered, Phillip was quite the gentleman.

Apparently not, she inwardly seethed. Any man who continues to keep company with the likes of Nikki Sullivan is no gentleman. Not to mention the fact that he had a one-night stand with a stranger!

Isabelle didn't know how long she laid there, wallowing in her self-pity. All she knew is that after a while, Severus finally came home. She listened to him drop his keys on the small table by the door, and drape his cloak over the sofa. He turned on the lamps in the kitchen and put on the teakettle.

"Isabelle?" he called out hesitantly. "Are you here?"

"Yeah," she called back, sitting up.

Groggily, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She sat down dramatically and flung her head in her hands. Partially amused, Severus raised a curious eyebrow at her attire, but didn't say anything. He simply continued making his cup of tea and waited for her to start talking, which didn't take long.

"Severus?" she asked, peering over her fingertips.

"Yes, Isabelle?"

"I'm joining a convent," she said melodramatically, flopping her head on her arms. Severus couldn't help but be amused, although he knew something was truly bothering her.

"Why's that?" he inquired, trying not to laugh.

She looked down at her outfit. "In case you haven't noticed, these clothes aren't exactly mine. They belong to a guy I spent last night with. Oh, I'm so trashy!"

"Nah," Severus said calmly, taking a sip of his tea and sitting down across from her. Isabelle leaned towards him with wild eyes.

"I'm only seventeen years old, and I've already had two random one-night stands. Lily never, ever, ever would or did have a one-night stand. Compared to her, I'm filth."

"Isabelle, you're fine. Part of being a teenager is doing stupid stuff. So, Lily didn't have crazy flings. She did marry Potter, which can be considered extremely daft in some circles," he said snidely, as Isabelle burst out laughing. The animosity between Severus and James was legendary. She crossed her arms.

"Even you? What stupid stuff did you do?" she challenged, as he turned red. "Does it involve pranking my brother-in-law, or does it involve a girl?"

"A particularly beautiful, talented, irresistible girl. And, I was very stupid over her. Trust me, there's nothing you can do over your lifetime to match the dumb stuff I did for her."

"I accept your challenge." She sighed. Sirius was stupid over "her", too. Isabelle wished that one-day, a guy would be half as stupidly in love with her as they were with Regina.

As if that is going to happen, she thought miserably. I'm relationship kryptonite.

"Oh!" Isabelle burst out. "I forgot the worst part. The guy I hooked up with last night is none other than Phillip Spence, boyfriend to the wonderful and charming Nikki Sullivan."

Severus looked irate. "The psycho hose beast that nearly drove you insane by insulting your whole family?"

"One and the same. I'm not only trashy; I'm a traitor." A tear spilled from her eyes.

"You're not a traitor, Isabelle," he said patiently. "Did you know who he was before you ran off with him?"

"No. I thought that he was a Muggle."

"See? You're not a traitor; you just have poor judgment. Stop being so hard on yourself. Besides, the nun getup doesn't quite go with your coloring," Severus teased.

Isabelle swatted at him, grateful that their relationship had developed so well over the past year. Severus listened and didn't judge her like Lily, but gave great advice from the male point of view like James and Sirius. With all of Remus' humor, although Severus had a dry wit and Remus was plain goofy. Having him around was like having all her loved ones rolled into one person, which was comforting. Especially since she was supposed to start high school soon. Not to mention having to figure out how to avoid Phillip and his evil girlfriend at all costs. Being a teenager was awfully angsty sometimes.