Author's Note: I'd rate this scene as PG-15 at the most, but b/c this fic was originally posted to the HP.com boards, I had to tone down the content.

Chapter 5: Unedited Party Scene

Isabelle sat on top of the apartment building, gazing at the sky, as was her 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 Abilene acclimated her to the American style of partying, so she calmly walked around the clumsily dancing couples and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, impressed that there was a bottle opener on the counter. Still feeling shy, she tipped up the bottle and chugged down a beer, quickly followed by three others.

"Glad you could make it," she heard a voice holler over the music. She turned around and smiled at the blonde-haired man standing in the doorway. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but no matter how long she stared at him, she couldn't put her finger on it.

After a minute, she gave up. Why would she have any connections to a Muggle in Williamsburg? Her smile mesmerized Phillip as she crossed the kitchen, beer 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 English 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 beers 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. Her hands traveled down his body, and began to remove his belt. 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 his belt 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, kissing his neck and reaching for his jeans zipper. There was no mistaking her intentions.

Phillip didn't really care that to her, he was a casual one-night stand. All that mattered to him was that Isabelle, the ultimate object of his desire, wanted him. Any attempt at being a gentleman disappeared as she flipped her shirt off and flung it haphazardly on the floor, and he completely lost his self-control when she wriggled out of her skirt.

As her body snaked around his, he rationalized his behavior. Obviously she came to the party upset and looking to hook up. So, if it weren't him, she'd be having random sex with someone else.

At least I care about her, know what an amazing person she is, and what pain she must be dealing with on a daily basis, he thought distractedly, turning his entire focus to Isabelle. Even if she didn't know who he was, she meant something to him, and was determined to show her that.

Later that evening, Phillip sat up and looked at her peacefully sleeping form. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed it softly. She rolled over, gave him a small smile and pointed at a picture of him and his teammates.

"So, you're a footballer?" she asked with a wicked glint in her eyes. He grinned evilly, knowing what she was getting at. At least, what he hoped she was getting at.

"Yeah, I am."

"Then, you're supposed to be able to play for ninety minutes, right?" She ran her fingers lightly across his very well built chest as she spoke, which drove him crazy.

How can she do that? he wondered. "That's right."

"Well, in that case I'm ready for the second half. Are you game?"

He grinned crookedly. "The question is, are you?"

"Does this answer your question?" Isabelle pushed him on his back with both index fingers and climbed on top of him like a woman possessed. She didn't know why, but she absolutely craved human companionship and affection right now.

Actually, she knew exactly why. Being back in Williamsburg put her on edge, and she needed to distract herself from bad memories of the little town. And spending the night in the arms of an incredibly sexy Muggle was a fantastic diversion.

Phillip couldn't force himself to let go of her. Tomorrow, he'd 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.