Chapter 12

"So, those are the main characteristics of unregistered Animagi. Any questions?" Sirius crossed his arms, and leaned against the desk, looking at the sea of raised hands. He purposely picked an easy lesson for the last seminar class before the holidays, hoping that the students processed at least some of the information.

"How is it possible for anyone to become an animagus without the Ministry finding out about it?" Parvati asked.

"You just look up how to do it in the books, become one, and don't tell anyone," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Thank you, Professor Black," Parvati said snidely to Hermione.

"Anytime," came the reply through clenched teeth.

"Ooh, catfight," George whispered to Harry, who tried to hide a smile.

"And over our brother, too," Fred said. "Why can't we get girls to fight over us like that?" Angelina gave him a dirty look.

"Alright, break time," Sirius said, diffusing the growing tension between the girls. Much as he wished that Hermione would control her temper better, she was right. And he did feel a sort of paternalistic pride watching her put Parvati in her place, although he would never tell her that.

"So, Harry, I hear you're taking Cho to the dance," Lee said, nodding his head to the corner of the room, where Cho, Parvati and Padma were talking.

"Yeah," he replied, blushing. "Asked her yesterday after Charms class."

"Ah, young love," Fred pronounced, clapping Harry on the back. "Who are you taking, George?"

"A sixth-year named Star West."

"Nice pick," Lee said approvingly.

"I'm guessing you're going with Parvati, Ron?" Harry asked, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Don't even, Potter."

"Don't what? Just wondering. Thought for sure you wouldn't make the same mistake as last year," Harry taunted him.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't asked anyone."

"No time like the present."

Ron looked like he was going to murder Harry for putting him in this awkward position. If he asked Parvati, Harry was right. But, the alternative was to ask Hermione to the dance in front of her entire family. She was probably going with Viktor, anyway. His brothers stared at him like sharks circling a victim, waiting for the opportunity to strike. What to do? Parvati was talking in the corner. It would be so easy to walk over there and just ask her. But where was Hermione? He searched the room, and his heart sank to the floor. She was talking to her father and Isabelle.

"Go on. Break's almost over," Harry reminded him.

Ron stood up, still not knowing what to do. He walked over to Hermione, knowing that at least five pairs of eyes followed his every move.

"What's going on?" Isabelle asked him. She looked over at Harry, and they shared a knowing smile.

"Oh, not much," he said, more nervously than he intended to. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm going home for the holidays this year, so I won't be able to work in the lab."

"That's ok. I'm going to close it, anyway. Are you planning on going home before, or after the dance?"

"After. When are you going to the Grangers', Hermione?"

"Probably before the dance, since Viktor's going to Bulgaria for Christmas, and I don't have a date. Like anyone else would ask me, anyway," she lamented, tears filling her grey eyes.

"I would." Ron couldn't believe what he just said.

"Aren't you going with Parvati?" Hermione said through narrowed eyes.

"Nah. That's just what she's telling everyone. What do you say?"

She gave him a crooked, happy smile. "Sure. I guess that means I need a dress after all, Isabelle. I'm sorry."

"No problem. Just come by the house after class, and we'll figure something out."

Across the room, Parvati stomped over to Harry. "What's going on over there?" she demanded.

"Ron just asked Hermione to the dance," he replied. He couldn't help laughing at the astonished look on Parvati's face. She turned bright red, and stomped back off to the corner.

Now that he had asked her, Ron had no idea what to do next. He was absolutely trapped between his friends, who were eagerly waiting for him to sit back down, and Sirius, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He gulped.

"Ok, break's over folks. Don't worry, I have a short lecture planned," Isabelle said loudly. Relieved, Ron quickly took his seat. As his back was turned, Isabelle flashed a thumbs-up sign to Harry, who grinned.

"Wait a minute here. You set them up, did you?" Sirius turned to her with an astonished look on his face.

"Hmmm?"

"You and Harry tag-teamed them. How long have you had this planned?"

"Weeks," she replied. "Never underestimate the scheming power of an Evans."

"I'll keep that in mind." He shook his head. "Ron's brave, I'll give him that. I think Parvati's about three seconds away from clawing out my daughter's eyes, though. Since they're the only thing she inherited from me, please start lecturing before they get ripped out."

"Only thing? Sirius, sometimes I wonder if Gina had anything, other than looks, to do with the making of that child. Alright," she said to the class, "as you know, Christmas holiday begins next week. So, no new material tonight. Y'all have learned a lot so far this year, but you have quite a ways to go before any of you can hold your own against a fully trained Death Eater. For your own safety, please don't try wandless magic at home over the holidays, or let anyone know that you are learning that skill."

"Why not?" Ginny asked.

"Because, if you are ever in a duel with a Death Eater, the last thing that you want your opponent to know is that you have a secondary line of defense. Never, ever use wandless magic unless it is your last resort. It is better to let someone knock you senseless than give away that secret." She looked at Sirius and gave him a wry smile. "Only use wandless magic if you are absolutely certain that your opponent will not live long enough to tell anyone else that you killed him or her without a wand."

The students looked at each other, suddenly realizing the seriousness of this seminar class. Unlike anything else they would ever learn, these skills could mean the difference between life and death. And that no matter how skilled they would become, some of them would die, just like their parents' generation. Isabelle sensed the class' mood plummet.

"I'm not going to tell you that you'll never be in a life or death situation, or that you'll survive that encounter. Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be. But, there's no use worrying about the future. It will take care of itself, trust me. Just live your life so that you have no regrets. Now, off with all of you. Have a great holiday," she said, dismissing the class.

Harry walked up to his aunt, smirking. "I can't believe they fell for that so easily."

"No kidding. Told you it would work."

"Remind me never to doubt you again, auntie. Now, about my Potions homework," he began.

"Try page 467. Not that it matters, because I've decided not to collect it. Early Christmas present."

"Don't tell Hermione that. She did it two weeks ago."

"Yeah, well, she needs to loosen up a little. Speaking of, where is she?"

"Over there, talking to Ron."

"We are geniuses, Harry."

"Was that ever in question?"

"How true." They smiled at each other. "Incredibly modest, too. Can you tell Hermione to meet me at the house? I need to run to the Dungeons first and set up the classroom for tomorrow's lesson."

"No problem," he said, walking over to his two best friends. It was nice to see them have an actual conversation, he thought.

-----

Isabelle plopped a stack of books on elementary potions making on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and padded to her wardrobe. She opened the doors, and reached for a tiny, jeweled case on the top shelf. Sighing, she sat on the floor, leaned her head against the bed, and waited for Hermione to arrive. Although picking an outfit for a dance was incredibly girly, she hoped that she could use the opportunity to bond with Hermione. For the first time, she needed help that only Isabelle could give. She desperately wanted to be close with Hermione, but she kept highly guarded boundaries that no one could cross, except Harry. She absolutely adored her cousin, from what Isabelle could see, and confided in him about everything.

Why can't she be more like Harry? Isabelle thought crossly. Harry was so easy to get to know, so much fun to be around. He was always haunting Isabelle's office about something or the other, whether it was Potions or girl problems. Ron, too. Their latest crisis was learning to dance. She spent countless hours in the past two weeks teaching the two boys the finer points of dancing, and was confident that they would definitely impress their dates, to say the least. She heard a faint knock on the door.

"Come in," she called. Hermione let herself in the door, and shut it behind her. As usual, her face had the look of indifference that she reserved for Isabelle.

"So, you said that you had a dress that I might be able to wear?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Yes, it's right here," Isabelle replied, placing the jeweled box on the floor, where it grew into a full-sized wardrobe.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, shocked out of her disinterest.

"When I left my husband, I only took two things with me. One was my daughter. The other was this. My wardrobe. The morning I left, I packed up everything, and sent it overseas. All of these dresses were specially designed and made, and they have a lot of sentimental value for me. If my guesses are right, we're about the same size, so these should fit you."

She opened the wardrobe doors, revealing dozens of breathtaking gowns. Hermione's eyes were as large as saucers. She picked up one dress that was completely overlaid in jeweled flowers.

"Are these real sapphires?"

"All of the jewels are real. I was a trophy bride, so Sergei spared no expense when we attended a social function. This dress costed half a million pounds, if I remember correctly," she said, holding up a simple red sheath with diamond-studded spaghetti straps.

"Where would you wear something like this?"

"Oh, state dinners, holiday balls, that sort of thing."

Sirius walked into their shared bathroom to brush his teeth, and heard Isabelle's voice echo through her partially opened door. He knew that he should either close her door, or go back to his room, but he hesitated. How many conversations of his had Isabelle eavesdropped on over the years? Not once was he able to return the favor, until now. In spite of his good sense, he snuck over to the door, so that he could hear better.

"What's this?" Sirius peered through a crack in the door to see that Hermione was holding up a sash.

"Oh, that. It's the royal sash of a countess. For very formal occasions, I had to wear it."

"Do you ever miss any of it?"

"Sergei? Never. Sometimes I miss the parties, and the dancing. Honestly, I'm just a country girl from Dover who always wanted a simple life, at heart."

"Did you love your husband?"

"No. I thought that I did, but I was sadly mistaken."

"Why did you marry him, then?"

"He reminded me of someone. What about this one?" Isabelle held up a strapless light purple-grey dress with a fitted bodice and full-flowing skirt. Compared to the other gowns, it was incredibly plain and simple.

"I don't know."

"Just humor me and try it on. There's plenty of room in the wardrobe for you to change in."

A couple of minutes later, she stepped out of the wardrobe. The dress that looked so simple on the hanger looked dazzling on Hermione. The grey in the dress brought out her eyes, and the purple complimented her hair.

"What do you think?" Isabelle asked, smiling.

"I feel like Cinderella," came the reply. Their eyes met, and Isabelle knew that at long last, she had connected with Hermione.

"Let me see here," Isabelle said to herself, rummaging through her jewelry box. She pulled out a platinum and amethyst necklace and earrings set. "Try these on for size."

"Wow. Where did you get these from?"

"They were your mother's, and her mother's before that. I've been keeping them for you."

Sirius shook his head in amazement as Hermione put the jewelry on and turned around to see herself in the mirror from all angles.

"Boy, is Ron going to have a fit," he heard his daughter gush. He frowned. Ron was a much better option than Viktor, true, but still nowhere near good enough for her. Just like every other guy on planet earth.

"For sure," Isabelle agreed.

"How do you know if you're in love with someone?"

Oh, no. Please don't go there, Sirius thought desperately. Not only was she too young to be thinking of falling in love, this conversation was quickly going into the I-didn't-really-need-to-know-that direction. He thought of retreating into the safety of his bedroom, but decided to wait for Isabelle's response with the excuse of picking up parenting pointers, just in case he was ever asked that question.

"Well, it's beyond all the mushy lovey-dovey stuff. I think you really love someone when being without the other person is like a living death. I know that's morbid, but it's the best way I can explain it."

"Have you ever really loved someone?"

All thoughts of leaving quickly left Sirius' head. Perhaps she would tell his daughter something that she wouldn't even tell him.

"Once."

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Then why can't you be together?"

"Because it's forbidden, you nosy thing," Isabelle said, playfully swatting at Hermione.

"Why?"

"It just is."

"Ok. What would happen if you did get together with this mystery man?"

"The world would fall off its axis, and life as we know it would cease to exist."

"Seriously, Isabelle."

"I'm serious." Hermione gave her an evil look. "Alright. It's forbidden because being with him would destroy both of our families. Sometimes, the heart doesn't always pick the best people to fall in love with. Star-crossed lovers sort of thing."

"Have I met him?"

"I'm certain that you have."

"So, he's a wizard?"

"Yes," Isabelle said, exasperated. The child wouldn't stop asking questions.

"Are you still in love with him?"

"Yes."

"Then, why are you dating this Patil guy when you're in love with someone else?"

"To try to move on with my life because I'll never have the man that I love." She sighed. "Just when I thought that I was completely over him, he drops back into my life. That was a day I'll never forget. I see him socially. I teach his child, who reminds me so much of him that it literally hurts sometimes. And although he's not with his wife anymore, I think that part of him still holds onto her. Even though he swears otherwise." She looked over at Hermione, whose eyes were brimming with unasked questions. "And, yes, you know the child I speak of."

"Do you think you'll ever get married again?"

"Probably not."

"Do you think Papa will marry that gold digger he's seeing?"

Isabelle doubled over with laughter. "Gold digger? What gives you that idea?"

Yes, Sirius seconded. Whatever could make Hermione think that Sara was a fortune-hunter? And what was it about Malfoy that captivated Isabelle's heart so completely?

"Oh, please. Why else would a perfectly sane woman choose to be with a man who has more issues than the Daily Prophet? Come on, here. He's got two teenage kids, one of whom is the continual target of the Dark Lord. Would you want to live somewhere where Voldemort could show up?"

"Good point."

"And," Hermione continued, "she doesn't even know my name, hardly. Not to be selfish, but the last thing that I need is another mother. I'm just barely coming to terms with who my real mother was. I don't need that gold digger telling me what to do. Besides, I have you. Why can't you and Papa get together?"

"Just because. Why do you ask so many questions?" Isabelle said, hitting Hermione over the head with a pillow. She quickly retaliated, and the conversation dissolved into an all-out pillow war. Having heard much more than he bargained for, Sirius crept back into his room and went to bed.

-----

A loud, piercing whistle shot through the Muggle Studies classroom. The entire classroom was filled with chattering, nervous students preparing to make their oral presentations on Muggle media. Everyone stopped, looking for the direction of the whistle.

"Thank you. I know everyone's excited, but we need to get started, ok?" Isabelle said in an effort to calm the class down. She smiled at Remus, who snuck in the door and quietly settled in a corner. He was always so supportive of her unorthodox projects. "For the sake of simplicity, we're going to go in alphabetical order. And, please welcome Professor Lupin to our class." The class turned around and loudly applauded the popular professor.

The class presentations went flawlessly, until it was Lee Jordan's turn. Lee stood up, and shared a knowing look with Remus.

"What's going on, Remus?"

"Hmm?" he replied.

"Good morning, class. My project is on Muggle media interpretations of women."

"That's what I'm talking about, mate!" George shouted.

"Ah, but that's not the best part. Professor Lupin told me that seven years ago, an up and coming doctoral chemistry student had a brief modeling career. I would like to proudly present the Muggle media interpretation of our very own Professor Evans." He held up a dozen magazine covers, reading off some of the names. "Marie Claire, Cosmo, and my personal favorite, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition." Lee stepped to the side of the classroom, where he held up a life-size copy of Isabelle in a flesh-colored bikini. She turned crimson, as the males catcalled.

"Incendia," she said, burning the picture into a tiny pile of ashes. "Remus, you are toast," she said to him under her breath. He just grinned wickedly.

She tried to keep as low of a profile as possible throughout the rest of the presentations, and was relieved to come to the very last one. Well, relieved that they were almost over, but concerned that it was Fred and George Weasley's turn. If Lee found the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, who knew what the Weasley twins would find.

"Professor Evans gave us special permission to do our project together, so here's our take on the Muggle fascination with watching people's lives get destroyed on television. The lights suddenly dimmed, and a projection screen lowered from the ceiling. We present to the class our favorite excerpts from the Jerry Springer Show."

The projection screen filled with taped portions of the Springer show, which the class loved immediately. After watching the security guy Steve being hit with a chair for the third time, Katie fell out of her chair from laughter. By the end of the five minute clip, the class was joining in the audience's chanting.

"Thank you," the Weasley twins said, bowing.

"Well, class, thank you for your creative and um, enlightening projects," she said, glowering at Lee. "See all of you at the dance."

The class left, and Remus walked up to Isabelle, smirking.

"And you. You'll be lucky if I talk to you by the end of the year, mister," she said, stomping off to her office.

-----

Three hours later, Isabelle had calmed down enough to go home. She could've wrung Remus' neck in front of the entire class earlier for showing Lee those pictures. The only reason she got into modeling, anyway, was because Stacey dared her to. When she opened the front door, she heard voices coming from the living room. She poked her head in the room where Sirius, Sara, Remus and an extremely nervous-looking Charlie were sitting.

"What's going on?" she said, flopping down on an armchair.

"Oh, just planning our next trip to the beach. Have any wardrobe advice?"

"Funny." She gave Sirius a murderous look. Obviously Remus had told him about today's class. "What's that, Charlie?"

"Well, uh, it's Fleur's Christmas present." He passed her the small box, and Isabelle smiled when she opened it.

"That serious, huh?"

"I hope so," Charlie said honestly. "It is for me, anyway."

She pulled out the gold and ruby eternity band. "Traditional guy, huh? It's kind of ironic, ruby as a family stone for a group of redheads."

"Mum would kill me if I didn't keep to tradition. Says it's a family honor thing."

"Well, when are you going to ask her?"

"Tomorrow night after the dance." He shook his head. "It's just a simple question. Why am I so nervous?"

"Because it's your brain telling you to run while you still can," Remus said with an evil glint in his eye.

"What do you know about proposing to a woman?" Isabelle shot back.

"Enough to have a healthy fear of the institution of marriage. Knowing what you know now, would you marry again?"

"Heck, no," she responded. "The engraving on my wedding band should've said 'abandon hope, all ye who wear this ring'."

"Belle, I think you're scaring Charlie," Sirius said, pointing to his white face.

"No, I'm ok. Thanks again, Sara, for bringing the ring by," he said, standing up to leave.

"No problem. Good luck tomorrow," she replied.

"Yeah, Charlie. Break a leg," Isabelle added, as the front door closed behind him. She looked at Remus, and they burst out laughing.

"I think Charlie picked the wrong jaded group of people to support him," Remus laughed.

"No kidding," she replied.

"Did you have a traditional wizarding wedding band, Isabelle?" Sara asked.

"Yes. It was yellow gold and black onyx," she answered. She smiled, thinking about Hermione's opinion of Sara.

"Oh. Then is your family's traditional gemstone blue lapis lazuli?" she questioned further, clearly inquiring about Isabelle's necklace.

"No. It's mine," Sirius responded. "Belle's Muggle born, so her family wouldn't keep that custom, anyway. I gave her that necklace for her sixteenth birthday."

"Forgive my nosiness, but the way I understand the tradition is that a man can only give jewelry with his family gemstone on it to either a blood family member or his wife. I thought you weren't blood related," Sara said, narrowing her eyes curiously.

"We're not. She is my goddaughter," Sirius said in a tone of voice that prohibited further questioning.

"Hey, she's my goddaughter, too. Share the love," Remus joked.

"You're just trying to make up for humiliating me earlier," Isabelle fumed.

"What is family for?" he answered. "Want to go have a drink at the Three Broomsticks?" Remus was obviously making a peace offering.

"Sure." Isabelle couldn't stay mad at him for too long, anyway. It was part of his charm. They headed to the pub, laughing and joking.

-----

Isabelle stood back from the mirror to look at her reflection, and smiled. She smoothed out imaginary folds in her dress, and hummed as she put up her hair in a practical, yet feminine bun. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed in the past six months, from a part-time pharmaceutical consultant at Whitehall-Robins and ballet instructor to a professor, at Hogwarts no less, and de facto parent of the two children she loved most in this world. It was as if she was finally vindicated for the past fourteen years of exile. Soon, Severus would be back with news of Death Eater plans, and life would become consumed with survival. But tonight was Christmas Eve, and time for celebration.

Christmas had always been a special time for her, ever since she was a little girl and sang Christmas carols with her mother. No matter what went wrong in her life, for that one day, time seemed to stop and everything was right in the world. She looked outside and saw snowflakes gently falling on the grounds. It would be a white Christmas. Nothing could make this year more perfect, she decided. She heard a tap on her bathroom door, and a frustrated Sirius stomped in the room.

"Can you put this bloody thing on for me? I can't remember the tying spell."

"Oh, is the poor wizard lost if there's no spell to do something?"

"Cute. Is Remus already at the Great Hall?"

"Yes, since he still owes me for Lee's project, he's in charge of making sure everyone gets credit for being at the dance." She stood on tiptoe, and placed the bow tie around his neck.

"Credit?"

"Um, hum," she mumbled, tying a perfect knot. "There. No spells needed."

"Well, it's easier for you, anyway, because you're skinny," he replied, stretching out her long, thin fingers against his own hand. He laughed. "I find it hard to believe that any jeweler can make rings to fit your tiny hands."

"I wear the same size as Fleur, thank you very much. Four and three-quarters. I just choose not to wear rings. Well, to be honest, I'm clumsy and keep losing the stones," she said with a sheepish grin.

"Can you put these on for me, too?" He pulled two cufflinks out of his pocket.

"Men are so helpless."

"Before I forget, there's something I wanted to give to you." He took out a small velvet box from his pocket.

"Jeez, what else do you have in those pockets of yours?"

"Just open it."

She took the box from his outstretched hand, and opened it, looking at him curiously.

"Well, the other night when Sara was asking about your necklace, I remembered that I had these earrings made at the same time. They were supposed to be your Christmas present that year. I had them sent here from my vault in London, where they've been all these years. So, Merry Christmas fourteen years later."

"Merry Christmas," she said, through teary eyes. She tried to put the earrings on, but her hands were too shaky.

"Here, let me do it."

"You can put in earrings, but not cufflinks?"

He shrugged. "I can only use one hand when I put on cufflinks. Much harder to do. Anyway, are you ready to rescue Remus from a hall full of teenagers?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

-----

Across the hallway, Harry knocked on Hermione's door. He hoped that she was still getting ready, and would charm his hair flat. Although his hair was just as unruly as hers, it didn't really bother him most days. But, he really wanted to make a good impression on Cho tonight.

"What?" she mumbled through a mouthful of bobby pins, meticulously pinning her hair into thick curls.

"Wow, you actually look like a girl," he teased. "I'm not sure if Ron will recognize you. Maybe I should put a sign above your head so that he can find you."

"Witty." She narrowed her eyes at the reflection in the mirror, and rearranged several pins at the nape of her neck. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Well, can you do something with my hair?"

"Hold on a sec," she said, curling her eyelashes with what looked like a medieval torture device to Harry. When she was satisfied that her makeup was perfect, she turned around and fixed Harry's hair.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Can you fasten this necklace for me?"

He whistled through his teeth. "Where did you get this?"

"Isabelle gave it to me. It was my mother's."

"Do you ever wonder what they were like?"

"Don't you? I would give anything just to have five minutes with my mother, to hear her voice. At least you've heard your parents' voices."

"When they were dying, Hermione. You still have your father."

"I would give anything to know what he was like before Azkaban."

"You and me both. Finished getting ready yet?" he said, exasperated.

She gave him a dirty look. "Yes," she responded tersely.

They walked out into the hallway, towards Isabelle's partially opened door, not believing what they saw. Sirius was carefully putting in a pair of earrings for her, and she was blotting tears out of the corner of her eyes. They had an ease around each other in private, a lack of reserve, that neither one of them showed anywhere else. Isabelle heard a noise in the hallway, and turned her head in the direction of the door, and gasped.

"Are you ready, Aunt Isabelle?"

Neither she nor Sirius could respond for a minute. He grasped her shoulders for support, turning an odd shade of white, and she couldn't stop blinking. It was like seeing and hearing ghosts of the past come back to life.

"Yes, I'm ready Harry," she finally answered, breaking Sirius' trance. "Well, let's go, then. Wouldn't want to keep Ron waiting," he said, winking at Harry. Hermione turned a violent shade of red, as they walked downstairs to get their coats and go to the ball. She grinned, forming her own plans for the night. Hopefully, if things worked out, she could be rid of Sara by the morning. And that would be the best Christmas present she could possibly receive.

-----

When they reached the main castle, Harry and Hermione went off to meet their dates, Isabelle to do crowd control in the Great Hall, and Sirius snuck off to the trophy room. He walked over to a plaque on the corner, and smiled. It had arrived in time. He then turned, and fought his way through giggling, nervous couples to the Great Hall. Isabelle and Hagrid had worked all day on the decorations, and the results were magnificent.

The beautiful Christmas decorations were illuminated by hundreds of tiny candles floating above the crowd and in centerpieces on the tables. He laughed to himself, thinking of the fight that Isabelle had had with Professor Flitwick about the tables lining the sides of the room. Flitwick insisted that the dance include a full dinner, complete with seating for everyone. Isabelle countered that no one can dance properly after gorging on a feast, and if you're at a dance, why do you need tables to sit down? The conflict continued for two weeks, until Professor Dumbledore proposed a compromise: an ample spread of refreshments, and there would be enough seating for half of the student body.

Speaking of Isabelle, she was in the far right corner of the Great Hall, talking to Remus while supervising the students' portrait sessions. To ensure that the students received proper credit for attending the dance, she had enlisted a photographer to take pictures of couples, just like at American Muggle prom dances. The photo proof serves as a much more efficient way of taking class roll, she had decided.

There was a rustling around the table where a dj was set up, with thousands of cd's behind him. George Weasley whistled loudly, and the crowded hall looked at him.

"Excuse me, everyone," came his magically amplified voice. "On behalf of the student body, I would like to thank you, Professor Evans, for hosting this dance for us. And, I was wondering if I could have the honor of this dance."

All eyes riveted on Isabelle. Everyone knew that she was one of the best dancers in the world, but few people had actually seen her dance. She smiled.

"I'd be honored, George," she replied, to the cheers of the crowd, who parted to give them plenty of room in the middle of the dance floor. "By the way, what are we dancing to?"

"A little ditty that makes us think of you," he said cryptically. The opening notes of the song echoed through the hall, making Isabelle laugh hysterically.

American woman, stay away from me
American woman, mamma let me be
Don't come hangin' round my door
I don't wanna see your face no more

"Oh, George, you didn't. How am I supposed to dance to this?"

As they danced, Sirius became transfixed on Isabelle. He had never seen someone radiate so much energy on a dance floor, as if she completely lost herself to the music. Every move she made was so free, uninhibited, full of life. His eyes followed her around the dance floor, slowly realizing what he had been blinded to before. Yes, he accepted that she was an adult, but somehow the fact that she is a woman escaped him until now. And a beautiful one at that.

He shook his head violently, trying to make his growing attraction to her disappear. But, it had been there all along, ever since he saw her on the Astronomy tower the night after his trial. The shock of who she was quickly pushed any romantic feelings away. If he had never seen her on the tower, never been even remotely attracted to her, he could fight these feelings, dismiss them as passing thoughts perpetuated by his surroundings.

Thunderous applause jolted Sirius out of his thoughts. George and Isabelle were taking dramatic, flamboyant bows.

"Beat that," George shot at Charlie.

"No problem," he replied. "Come on, Fleur. Let's show them how it's done."

With the entire Great Hall cheering them on, Fleur and Charlie tore up the dance floor. Isabelle made a mental note to tell her classes after the holidays that Muggle-style dances usually didn't begin with dance-offs. She looked over at Sirius, who had a really peculiar look on his face. Concerned, she left the onlookers and walked over to the doorway.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked him.

"No." After all, being attracted to her was just a feeling. Azkaban had taught him how to rid his mind of feelings, in order to keep his sanity against the Dementors. This is no different, he told himself. Remember, she's Lily's little sister, you raised her, she's ten years younger than you. And, she's in love with another man. Just let it go, and concentrate on a relationship that could actually work.

She smiled. "Good. Hey, can you fix the pin in my bun? I think it's slipping out."

"Sure."

He stepped closer to her, and suddenly found himself weak-kneed. Not a half hour ago, he was practically holding her in order to get the earrings in, and was fine. Now, he steeled himself, and leaned forward to adjust the pin back to its proper height. Just when he had finished and was congratulating himself on his mental control, a slight breeze wafted through the doorway, filling his nose with her perfume. He didn't realize that a woman could smell that good. Numerous swear words went through his mind. Get a hold of yourself, he thought. You're not a teenager, and she's no ordinary crush.

She turned her head around, face inches away from his. "Finished?"

"Yeah." Think of her as an eight-year old girl in pigtails, not desirable woman, he repeated to himself.

"Ok. 'Fess up. What's wrong with me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you keep looking at me with that weird look on your face. Is it the hair?"

"No."

"My dress? Am I still too skinny?" she said, remembering his words from earlier that evening.

Against his better judgement, he studied her. In that dress, she looked anything but skinny. Slender, maybe, curvy, definitely, but she was not the knobby-kneed sixteen year old that he remembered. Time had done wonders for her figure, and he saw why men fell all over themselves for her.

"No."

"My perfume? Stacey sent it over from New York. Is it too much?"

"No, it's," his voice trailed. Breathtaking, intoxicating, he thought. "It's fine."

"Then, what is it?"

"Belle, there's nothing wrong with you," he snapped. "Can't someone just have a funny look on their face for the heck of it?"

"Sure." Her lower lip quivered, and Sirius felt terrible. He didn't mean to yell at her.

"I'm sorry. It's just that you look great. Better than great, even." He managed to stop talking before he began to make a fool out of himself.

"Really? Thank you." She flashed him a thousand-watt smile, and hurried off to prevent Lee from pouring a suspicious looking substance into the punch bowl.

He watched her lecture Lee, and send him away from the refreshment table. She turned, and gave him a little wave. Just think eight year old girl in pigtails, he reminded himself.