Chapter 10

Across the faculty grounds, Sirius could not believe that of all days, nearly the entire family would have to be at home the one day that he wanted to be alone with someone. An hour after he and Sara arrived at the house, Harry came in with Cho to hang out on the patio. Hermione stomped through the front door not long afterwards, storming upstairs to her room and slamming the door without saying a word to anyone. Remus breezed in with a woman named Ullah, and he had only left half an hour ago. Sirius had given up on any hope of privacy by the time Isabelle walked into the living room.

His eyes widened. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, just got caught in the rainstorm," she replied. She looked at him, and then at Sara, giving him a knowing smile. "Please excuse my appearance. I'm Isabelle," she said, extending her hand.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sara O'Neill," she said, shaking her hand.

"Forgive my rudeness, but it's been a long day, so I'm going to head for bed," Isabelle excused herself, walking up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Not long afterwards, Sara left for home. Sirius closed the front door, and turned to walk up the stairs. He paused at Hermione's door. He knew that she was upset about something, and seeing him with a woman probably didn't help matters. But, there was no light peeking from under her closed door, so he assumed that she was already asleep. Deciding that talking to her could wait until the morning, he went into his room and fell asleep. A couple of hours later, he woke up suddenly. He co.cked his hid to one side, and listened carefully. It sounded like Isabelle was saying something – but what? He crept into their shared bathroom, and listened. To his surprise, she was calling for him. Was she hurt? Sick? He rushed to her side. She opened her eyes, and placed her hand on his face, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Sirius? You came," she said gratefully.

"I heard you calling for me in the other room. What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" she said in a deadened voice. "No matter. You're here – how did you escape? I tried for two months, and couldn't figure out a way. How did you find me? Did Snape send you?"

"We live in the same house, Isabelle." What was she talking about? he thought.

A mirthless laugh escaped from her lips. "For the past twelve years, you've only been near me in my mind. And now, as I lay here dying, you come for me. What a twisted justice Fate has given me."

"You're not dying. I think you're having a nightmare." He shook her by the shoulders harshly.

"Oh, this nightmare is all too real." She looked at him through empty, glassy eyes. "The doctors say that I'm lucky to be alive. Lucky – can you believe that? I'm tired of living, Sirius. Tired of my hopes and dreams being crushed at the heel of Fate. Isn't it ironic? The same day I find out my daughter will die, I can tell you that your daughter lives."

"She does?" He decided to play along.

"Yes," she said tiredly. "As does Harry, but you know that. Snape's out looking for him now. He ran away from Petunia's house, not that I blame him. Those poor children. Why is it that the children always suffer for their parents' sins? Always the innocent suffer. My darling Katrina. None of this is her fault. Death would be far too easy of a punishment for me. No, I will live a long life in this hell that I've created."

"Punishment for what? Isabelle? Talk to me," he pleaded. It was no use. She had fallen into a sound sleep. His mind raced. What on earth was she talking about? He walked back into his bedroom, and tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. After a half hour of tossing and turning, he decided to find the one person who could give him some answers. He walked over to Snape's cabin, and knocked on the door.

"What do you want? It's four in the morning." The absolute last person Snape wanted to see anytime, let alone in the middle of the night, stood on his front stoop.

"Some answers." He described Isabelle's nightmare.

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Because I'm guessing that she was dreaming about when Katrina was born, and she won't tell me anything about the time period when she left her husband."

"Then it's clearly none of your business." He started to shut the door.

"She is my business," Sirius said firmly, blocking the door with his foot. Snape raised an eyebrow, thinking.

"I could tell you, but only on two conditions. One, that you swear not to disown her or limit her contact with the children. And two, that you tell me exactly why she is your business. What is the nature of this unusual bond between the two of you?"

"Fine. After you."

"No, I insist," Snape said silkily, opening the door to let him in. Sirius knew that he had little bargaining power, so he began telling their story.

He sighed. "Well, because her mother was older when Isabelle was born, her father hired a nanny named Maria to help out around the house. The fashion those days was to have Irish nannies, because they were incredibly hard workers and dirt cheap. Maria only spoke Gaelic, which was fine because Isabelle's mother was Irish and could speak to her perfectly well. Shortly after she was born, Mrs. Evans was diagnosed with breast cancer. The time period she was going through treatments was roughly the same time period Isabelle was learning to walk and talk. Petunia and Lily were away at school, so the only language spoken around her regularly was Gaelic. So, Gaelic's her mother tongue, not English."

"Go on." This explained the lapses into Gaelic when she was angry, Snape thought.

"Well, when both of her parents died, Petunia moved back in. The first thing she did was fire Maria in an attempt to bring Isabelle under better disciplinary control. Apparently she was quite wild and didn't mind Petunia at all."

"What does this have to do with you?" He was growing impatient.

"I'm getting to that part. By the time that she was eight, Isabelle was a nightmare, according to the letters Petunia sent Lily at school. She would skip school regularly, and when she was there, she wasn't reading or writing at anywhere near a normal level. She was in special education classes, and was labeled as moderately retarded by her school teachers."

Snape snorted. "Retarded?"

"Hard to believe, huh? Petunia wanted to send her away to an asylum, but Lily felt badly for her and decided to try to raise her herself. We wanted to support Lily, so the rest of us moved to Dover with her. When we got there, Isabelle had run off, so we all went looking for her. By some act of fate, I found her in a very well-hidden old Roman fort. I said something to her, I don't remember quite what, and she snapped at me in perfect Gaelic. Anyway, I discovered that she could understand some English, but couldn't speak it. But, she had an incredible mastery of Gaelic for someone her age. I managed to talk her into coming in to dinner, and explained the situation to Lily. She had no clue about what was going on. Meanwhile, Isabelle was chatting away, telling me where things like pots and pans were. For the first time in two years, she could have an actual conversation with someone."

"So, she bonded with you because only you could speak to her?"

"Exactly. She would actually wait patiently on the staircase every morning, waiting for me to come downstairs for breakfast. That first morning, she was a bit of a holy terror, eating with no manners at all and knocking things over everywhere. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that Petunia said that nice girls only eat with their right hands, and that she was embarrassingly stupid and clumsy. I told Lily that, and Lily asked me to tell her that she could eat using whatever hand she liked. So, Isabelle immediately switched hands, and started eating with flawless grace. Lily was livid. Obviously Isabelle was not retarded. She couldn't read because she didn't speak English, and even if she could speak English, she couldn't write because she was left-handed. Lily swore that she would never let any child of hers anywhere near Petunia. I think she's been turning over in her grave these past fourteen years."

Snape thought carefully. "Fine. After she graduated from high school, she decided to stay in Williamsburg to go to the College of William and Mary for undergraduate work. She was a chemistry and secondary education double major, and went to New York City to train with the Remizov ballet company several times a week. She actually made the troupe when she was seventeen, but she didn't tour with them until she graduated from William and Mary when she was twenty-two. She started graduate work at New York University in their doctoral program for chemistry, and did her research for her thesis when she was away on tour. Her research was on designer drugs – drugs that are created in laboratories that are far more potent and valuable on the black market. She discovered that there was a large drug cartel headquartered in New York, but couldn't find out who or what was in charge of it."

"What does this have to do with Remizov?"

"He was in charge of the drug cartel. The ballet was just his legit business. He found out Isabelle was the best dancer around, a pureblood witch, or so he thought, and an award-winning chemist, so he charmed her into marrying him. She discovered what he was, and tried to leave him, but she was stuck because of her contract with the ballet company. She danced for him, but refused to design or manufacture drugs. He didn't like that too much, and tried to physically persuade her into doing what he wanted."

"He beat her?" Sirius said through clenched teeth.

"Daily. At first, she fought him, but after a while, she just took it. No one helped her, except for the house-elves, who mopped her up after he was finished with her."

"Why didn't you do something about it?" Sirius was irate at Snape's calm tone.

"I would have, except that before she married him, we had a huge argument. She married him over my objection, so when she found out I was right, she was too ashamed to contact me. I had no idea about what was going on until much later. The next summer, her contract was up, and she refused to renew it until she discovered that Remizov was part of a plan to bring Harry to Voldemort. Well, she decided to stick around for another year to find out what was going on. That fall, I got my first letter from her, warning me about Quirrell. At the end of the school year, Remizov decided to punish Isabelle for defying him for two years. So, he had her arrested on fabricated charges of attempted murder of him, and threw her into Azkaban."

"What?" The thought of her in that hell hole made Sirius sick.

"After a month of solitary confinement, Remizov came to see her, and was surprised at her calmness. She spat in his face, so he made sure a Dementor was stationed outside her door at all times. About two weeks later, Lucius Malfoy was at the prison, getting some information for Lord Voldemort, and saw her in her cell. He felt sorry for her, and convinced Remizov to drop the charges. At that point, she was basically catatonic, as you can imagine what the Dementors could do with someone who's led her life. Remizov let her out of prison partially to save face with Lord Voldemort, because the Dark Lord trusts Malfoy's opinions about things, and partially because rehearsals for the Nutcracker were about to begin, and he needed her to dance or he would lose a lot of money in lost ticket sales. He took her to the lake district, but she developed a chest infection because she just sat on a porch outside, staring at the distance. Remizov was desperate at that point, and asked Malfoy if he could take her to his beach house in Brighton."

"Why Brighton?"

"Because he was talking to her one night, and the mention of southern England was the only thing that changed her expression somewhat. And Lucius has a spectacular house there, right on the beach. Anyway, they went to Brighton, and she sat on the porch in a chair, just like she did before. Remizov hired a nurse to care for her during the day, and he began commuting to London to take care of business. Eventually, he would stay overnight every now and then, leaving her alone to sit and stare at the waves. One day, Lucius came home with him. Isabelle was wandering around the house aimlessly when she overheard them talking about a plan to bring Harry to Lord Voldemort. She asked Remizov about it later, but he wouldn't tell her anything. So, she decided to try Lucius."

"Oh, God. She didn't." Sirius was developing a pounding headache. This was much, much worse than he originally thought.

"She did. Like any man who comes within a fifty-mile radius of her, he fell madly in love with her from day one. When Remizov would go away to work, he would stay behind with her and--"

"I don't need details," he spat. "Where was Narcissa during all of this?"

"In Bermuda with Draco. They've been separated for years. Isabelle got all sorts of information from Lucius, and passed it along to me. I should have wondered why he would confide in her. To keep from making anyone suspicious, she began dancing again and spending time with Sergei. This arrangement worked nicely for her, until he wanted to move back to St. Petersburg for the spring. He wanted to show off to his friends that at last, he was to have his heir." Snape smiled grimly. "They were in London a couple of months later, supervising a production of Swan Lake, when I saw her for the first time since she got married. We talked, and I convinced her that the baby wasn't safe as long as there was a remote chance that she wasn't Remizov's."

Sirius reeled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And?"

"She told him they were through, and walked out of the theatre. She thought that if she left him in a public place, he would be less likely to hurt her or the baby. She was walking down the steep, tall marble staircase outside, when he made two stairs below her disappear. She didn't notice them because she was getting quite big at that point, and couldn't see what was directly below her. She fell, all the way to the bottom, shattering her hip because she was trying to protect the baby as she fell. The doctors had no choice but to deliver Katrina immediately, but she wasn't as far along as they had thought. She wasn't viable. I found Isabelle right before the doctors told her the news."

"Was her husband there?"

"No. I would have killed him on the spot if he even tried to come near her. As soon as I found her, I had her and the baby moved to St. Mungo's. He would never look for her there. Besides, I had hoped that the doctors there would be able to find a miracle that Muggle medicine couldn't. She wanted that baby so desperately." His voice broke. "She was rushed into emergency surgery to reconstruct her hip, and before she went under anesthesia, one of the nurses said that you had escaped from Azkaban. I'll never forget the look on her face."

"A odd look of hopeless amazement," Sirius said, mostly to himself.

"Yes. While she was in surgery, Harry ran away from Petunia's house, so as soon as she came to, I told her what happened. And that Dumbledore wanted me to find Harry. I did not want to leave her, but she insisted. When I came back, the nurses said that she kept calling for you. She said that she could die in peace now that you were free, whatever that meant. It was shaky those first few days whether she would live or die, but she lived, thank God. When the baby died, we took her to the cemetery, and buried her in the Potter plot with the rest of your family."

"Where? I've never noticed another grave."

"It's unmarked, so you wouldn't."

"Why would she dream about this now?"

"Lucius was in Hogsmeade yesterday."

"Is he the father of her child, then?" Sirius could barely form the words through his disbelief and anger.

"I don't know. If she does, she isn't telling, and it's better that way. As long as Lucius thinks that he could be Katrina's father, he will protect Isabelle from Remizov. Who has a very large bounty on her head."

"Are they together now?"

"Not anymore. It's too dangerous for either of them."

"I see. Who knows?"

"Just her, Lucius, me, you, and a house-elf who works here now named Dobby. He cared for her before Harry tricked Lucius into setting him free."

"And he's here, at Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

Sirius stood to leave. He had heard more than enough for his mind to comprehend. Before he walked out of the door, he turned to face Snape.

"Why did you tell me all of this?"

"Because if I die, someone needs to be able to help her," Snape shrugged.

Sirius walked out into the cool fall morning. The sun's first rays peeked over the horizon, highlighting the dew on the ground. He did not notice the beauty of his surroundings as he stormed through the faculty grounds, his mind focused on what he had just heard. As he walked towards the lake, he doubled over, and lost the contents of his stomach as a wave of revulsion tore through his body. How could she? his mind raced. He splashed his face with water from the lake in an effort to calm down, and forced himself to sit on the shore to think. His knee-jerk reaction was to go home and demand for an explanation from Isabelle. He imagined Malfoy being with her, and his stomach lurched again.

An inhuman anger surged through his veins until he felt like every blood vessel in his head was about to explode. He hadn't felt anywhere near this angry since that night at the Shrieking Shack, and even then, Harry was able to keep his temper in check. Sirius knew that if either Sergei Remizov or Lucius Malfoy came near him, he would gladly kill them with his bare hands. Even if it sent him back to Azkaban, it would be worth it to make sure they could never hurt Isabelle again.

He buried his head in his hands. Isabelle. His anger diminished somewhat when he thought of her. He couldn't believe that Snape made him promise not to disown her. Yes, he was upset with her. Very upset. But she was still his little girl. There was nothing she could do to make him turn away from her.

That's the problem, isn't it? Sirius thought to himself. He realized that a great deal of his anger stemmed from the simple fact that Isabelle wasn't a little girl anymore. That innocent, trusting blonde-haired girl with pigtails was gone forever. He saw just how blind he was when it came to her. She grew up, and he missed it. It was so easy to still think of her as a child; after all, a ten year age gap was an eternity back then. When they met, he was an adult; she was a small child. But now?

He had no delusions that he had missed Hermione and Harry's childhoods, and was thankful for a second chance with them. But for Isabelle, there was no second chance. There was no way to turn back the clock to fix past mistakes.

"I failed her," he whispered. Guilt plagued his mind as his anger turned on himself. He contributed as much to her undoing as anyone else did, because she trusted him, and like everyone else in her life, he walked out on her. He left her to die fourteen years ago. That one decision plagued his conscience continually throughout the years, as he imagined the horrible torturous death she must have endured at the hands of those Death Eaters that night. When he found out she was alive, he naively thought that since she was continually cheerful, her life had made a turn for the better.

The truth was a bitter pill to swallow. Her cheerfulness was a facade, masking a lifetime of loss and hurt. He smiled grimly as he realized that he raised her well – to never show weakness, or private pain. For the first time, he saw her as an adult, and as his equal.

He stood up, and headed for the main castle. There was some business he wished to take care of before he went back home. An hour later, he walked through the back door, and rummaged through the medicine cabinet above the sink for something to settle his stomach. When he turned around, he saw that a very depressed looking Hermione was slumped over the bar.

"What's wrong?" he gargled through a mouthful of water, swallowing several antacid tablets. She looked up at him with big, teary eyes. Finding Isabelle would just have to wait.

"Nothing," she sniffled.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Whatever it was, she obviously wanted to talk about it. Must be a sensitive subject, he decided. At least all those years of interrogation training wouldn't go to waste. Somehow, he didn't think that the Ministry envisioned those skills being put to use to ferret out the problems of a fifteen year old girl.

"Ok," he said slowly. "So, what are your plans for today?"

"Dunno," came a mumbled reply.

"Weren't you supposed to study with Harry?"

"No. We finished our homework Friday night. Besides, he's probably off somewhere with Cho."

Getting somewhere, he thought. "What about Ron?"

"I don't want to talk about Ron," she snapped vehemently.

Paydirt. "Why's that?" he asked casually.

"Because....just because," she sputtered. "It's just too confusing."

"What's confusing?"

"Me. Him. Us." She started gesturing wildly. "He says one thing, but acts totally different. Why do guys do that?"

"Because we're stupid. What did he do?"

Hermione didn't even pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. "I went into the dorm yesterday to get my Charms book, and when I went into the common room, he was kissing her," she spat.

"Who's her?"

"Parvati." She began crying. He walked around the island, and sat down on a stool beside her, passing her a tissue. She blew her nose loudly. "I don't know why I'm so upset. I mean, I'm dating someone already. It's just that..." Her voice trailed away, and she buried her head in her father's shoulder.

"That you're not sure how you feel about him and you feel betrayed."

She looked up. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Look, no matter what you feel for Ron, you can't avoid him forever. I love having you around, but it's not fair to hide out over here," Sirius said gently.

"I know," she sighed. "Speaking of relationships, who were you with yesterday?"

He blushed. "Just a friend."

"Uh-huh. Likely story." She flashed him a wicked grin. "Well, I have Charms reading to do, so I'm off to the library."

She scooted off the bar stool and headed out the door. He shook his head, thinking about how similar she was to Isabelle at that age. His face fell, and he stared at his glass of water. A rustling at the refrigerator jolted him out of his reverie.

"What a horrible night's sleep I had," Isabelle yawned, taking out a pitcher of iced tea and pouring herself a tall glass. "I feel like a Mack truck ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again."

Sirius looked at her, puzzled. What was a Mack truck? He gathered his thoughts together, and took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy.

"Why? Did you have a nightmare?"

A mirthless laugh escaped from her lips. "You could say that." She shook her head, as if to clear it of unpleasant memories. "Anyway, since Sev insists on going to the Death Eater party, I really should get dressed and head down to the dungeons to look at the lesson plans again."

"You know, you really work too hard, Belle. You teach three classes, tutor Neville, you're always at the beck and call of the children, and you micro manage the running of this household. Isn't that a bit much?"

"I like to be busy, you know that. The classes are a piece of cake, Neville's really progressing, and nothing's more important to me than Harry and Hermione. As for the house," she smiled wryly, "I'm a neat freak and I live with two men and two teenagers. Either I clean or I go nuts."

That was exactly the opening Sirius wanted. "Actually, I've been thinking, and it's not fair to dump most of the household chores on you. So, I've found some help."

"Help? As in a house-elf?" she said sharply. "I don't need slave labor, thank you."

"Actually, I happen to have found a house-elf who's been freed of his former master, and works for wages at Hogwarts. He's willing to come and work for us," he said carefully.

"Really? That could work," she mused.

"Good. His name is Dobby, and he'll be coming over to the house tomorrow to begin work." Sirius watched her expression carefully. It did not change, but her hands trembled slightly.

"Dobby? The Malfoys' house-elf?"

"Yes. Funny, he seemed to remember you for some reason. He was very excited that you were here, and wanted me to tell you that he still knows the recipe for iced tea. Nasty beverage that it is." He made a face.

Isabelle swallowed hard, and looked in Sirius' eyes. She realized that he had found out, somehow, about Lucius. The room began to spin, and she clutched the countertop for support. Her mind whirled as she tried to gather her wits about her.

Use your brain, she told herself. There's no way that Sirius could know about him. Only three people know about Lucius and I, and the two of us are the very definition of discretion. And Severus would never talk to Sirius, let alone about something like this. It's merely a giant coincidence, Isabelle. Just act like everything's fine, and he won't suspect a thing.

"You would change your mind about iced tea if you ever spent a summer in the South," she replied calmly.

"Perhaps." Sirius studied her face, wondering if he should just bring up the subject of Malfoy. "Isabelle--"

"What?" she said, with a slight smirk on her face. "Does this have something to do with this Sara you had over the house yesterday? How did you meet her, anyway?"

"I fell for her, literally." He explained the story, and they were both laughing when he finished. He looked at the happy look on her face, and hated to confront her. But, he couldn't pretend that everything was fine, when it wasn't. But how to do it? Well, he decided, in Gaelic for starters. That would not only be less adversarial, but if anyone happened to walk in the room, the conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Speaking of running into people, I heard that you ran into someone yourself."

She looked up, panic showing in her eyes. He hasn't started a conversation in the old language with me since I was eleven years old, she thought. There was no use pretending anymore. "How did you find out?" she asked in an empty voice.

"It's true then? About Malfoy?"

She simply nodded. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to cry. Let him rant and rave, disown her, do whatever he wanted to do. She would not let him see how much his disappointment in her mattered. A single tear escaped from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.

"Why did you do it, Belle?"

"None of your business," she snapped. "Who told you? Dobby?"

"No. Snape."

"You lie. He's never done anything to hurt me. He wouldn't betray me like that." Her chin quivered.

"I'm not lying," Sirius said as gently as possible. "You had a nightmare that woke me up, and you were talking in your sleep about when your daughter was born. So, I went to talk to Snape, and he told me everything. I just want to know why, that's all."

Her face contorted as she turned on him like a wounded tiger. "Why, Sirius? Because for the first time in my life, I could do something to help someone I loved. When Mum got sick and died, I could do nothing. My father went off and killed himself, leaving me with Petunia, and I could do nothing. I watched Regina die, taking part of you with her, and I could do nothing. In one night, I lost everyone else I loved. I watched the cemetery staff lower my sister and James into the ground, and saw and heard everyone condemn you to Azkaban. And there was nothing I could do. Are you sensing a theme here? Do you think I just let Severus take Gracie away from me? No. It was all Dumbledore could do to hold me back from chasing after her. And Harry. Why do you think they sent me to another continent? Because America's a fun place to be? No. Because they knew that I would try to take the children the first chance that I got. Sev promised that I could have them when they went to Hogwarts and became acclimated to the wizarding world."

"That's why you married Remizov. To give them a family." The puzzle was starting to make some sense to Sirius.

"Some family," she snorted. "I ruined any chance I had of raising those children when I married him. Did Severus tell you everything? Did he mention that my husband turned me into a human pinata? How about that Sergei sent me to Azkaban because I wouldn't make illegal drugs? Yes, let's talk about Azkaban, shall we?" Her eyes blazed. "For two long months, he stuck me in that place. Do you know what I did? I watched the inmate across the hallway from me. Quite fascinating person, really. Spent most of his time as a large black dog in order to avoid the Dementors. Prison's much nicer as an Animagus, I'm sure."

She waived her hand dismissively. "But, no matter. My husband needed me to make money for him, so I was freed. You know what I am, Sirius? I am a pawn on someone else's chessboard to be moved and discarded at will. This little pawn was sick and tired of watching everyone she loved suffer, so when I had the opportunity to help Harry, I took it. I'm not proud of myself. But, oh, have I been punished for my actions, far beyond what you could ever imagine. Trust me, there's nothing you could do to hurt me any more that what's already been done."

Sirius stood up, and walked around the bar, standing directly in front of her. Her face remained impassive, but he saw fear in her eyes. Fear of what? he wondered, lifting his hand to remove an eyelash from his eye. She flinched. He realized that she thought that he was going to hit her just then.

"Oh, Isabelle," he said helplessly.

"Sorry. Pavlovian response. So, that's why you hired Dobby, then? To cover up my dirty little secret? To make sure I don't shame the family? You're good at making people's dirty laundry disappear, aren't you Sirius?"

He looked at her, shocked. Tit for tat, huh, Belle? he mused. He thought that he had made sure that no one would find out about what he had done for Regina all those years ago. Of course, he didn't count on Snape raising Isabelle. He must've told her, the useless piece of trash. But, this wasn't about his wife, this was about the woman standing in front of him. "I didn't do it because I'm ashamed of you. I did it because I don't anyone to be able to hurt you again."

Isabelle looked in his forgiving, trusting eyes, and completely broke down. She hadn't cried like this since she was sixteen years old, before she went to America for the first time. Sirius reached for her, and they clung to each other like the other person was a lifeline, a hope for an absolution of a life filled with mistakes and regret. They both knew that their relationship was forever changed. It had passed beyond the realm of mere friendship into a permanent bond. They knew everything about each other, even what hid in the darkest, most remote corners of each other's pasts. Things they would tell no one else, ever.

They eyed each other wearily, not knowing what to say. After a few minutes, they simply picked up their lives as if the conversation never happened. They walked upstairs, Isabelle to get dressed to go to the castle, and Sirius went to bed. It was the only way either of them could deal with the events of their lives, to just move on and not dwell on the past.