Chapter 18

The full moon reflected in the James River, highlighting the thousands of tiny stars in the sky. A brisk winter breeze whipped across the water, causing Isabelle to wrap her coat more tightly around her body. She crossed the backyard to a swing by the water's edge, thinking. The full moon reflected in the James River, highlighting the thousands of tiny stars in the sky. A brisk winter breeze whipped across the water, causing Isabelle to wrap her coat more tightly around her body. She crossed the backyard to a swing by the water's edge, thinking.

It had only been two days since she buried her friends in a cold, raining graveside funeral. Somehow, she and Phillip managed to make the necessary arrangements and make it through the service. She sighed, kicking the swing back and forth with her foot. The leaves on the ground began to rustle, alerting her that she was no longer alone.

"Hello, Sirius," she said, looking out over the water.

"Hey, Belle. Nice view you have here," he replied conversationally. Ever since the trial, she had been virtually silent, except with the children.

"Thank you. It's what sold the house for me. I bought it shortly before I left Sergei. I planned to raise Katrina here."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. In fact, he got the distinct impression that Isabelle was upset about something other than the obvious, but he couldn't figure out what. So, he decided to let the statement go, and change the subject.

"I'm planning to take the children home tomorrow. Hermione's been asking about her mum a lot lately, so I figured I'd take them by the old houses."

"I bet both of them would like that."

"I'll probably take them by the cemetery, too."

"Not tomorrow, you're not," Isabelle said sharply. "It's New Year's Day."

She watched a look of confusion, then understanding, then intense anger come over Sirius' face.

"So what," he exploded. "Regina's my wife, and I'll take our daughter to visit her whenever I damn well please."

"No, you won't. Please be sensitive," she begged.

"No." He crossed his arms over his chest, irate. "You don't understand, Isabelle."

"You don't understand," she replied quietly, turning to look him dead in the eyes. "If you bring Hermione anywhere near that cemetery tomorrow, I swear on my daughter's grave that I will tell her everything. And I mean everything."

"You wouldn't," Sirius said dismissively.

"Try me."

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because he's a good man and I love him. He's always been there for me."

Sirius felt as though Isabelle had slapped him in the face. "I would have, too, if he hadn't allowed me to rot in Azkaban all those years."

"How dare you accuse Severus of keeping you in prison," she spat. "It's thanks to him that you're free right now. He saved your daughter's life, and mine. Have you ever thanked him for any of it? No, you repaid him with bitterness and contempt."

"Fine. What do you want me to do? Walk up to him and thank him for killing my wife? Regina would be here today, alive, if it wasn't for him."

"I see." Tears stung Isabelle's eyes. He couldn't ever love me, she realized, because he's still in love with a memory. It was difficult enough competing with a live person, but she had no hope against a ghost. She swallowed back her tears and gathered together what pride she had left.

"He killed her, huh? And, she never would've met him in New York if you had gone with her like you were supposed to, right? Right," Isabelle said to herself. "You stayed in Dover because of me, because I needed you more than she did. Or so you thought. So, if it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have died. Chalk up another senseless death to me."

"Isabelle, wait," Sirius said helplessly as she stood up and ran towards the house. He felt like a complete jerk.

-----

Two figures in black cloaks snuck though the faculty grounds, and into the back door of the deserted southern-style house. They wound their way through the familiar kitchen, and into the living room. The taller of the two figures put down the hood of his cloak and looked around cautiously.

"All of them are gone, just like I told you," he said in a stage whisper.

"Yes, but for how long?" Sara O'Neill took a pocket watch out of her cloak pocket and checked the time. Eight o'clock p.m.

"Isabelle owled me yesterday that they're due back in town around ten o'clock. I'm supposed to pick her up from the train station."

"Where do you want to search tonight, Andrew?" she said, frustrated. "Fudge's getting impatient, and we're no closer to finding out this family's alliances than we were three months ago. I say we search Isabelle's room again."

"Must we keep targeting her? She's going through enough as it is."

"This is a job, Andrew. Don't let your personal feelings get in the way here."

His jaw clenched. "And it's just a job for you?"

"Look, the Ministry's paying me to get information, not to fall in love."

"Fine. Isabelle's room it is."

They crept up the staircase and into her room; painstakingly searching for anything they could've missed on their five previous searches. Andrew spied a tiny box in the back of her sock drawer and carefully pulled it out. He squinted, and flipped it over in his hand.

"Engorgo," he said quietly. The box grew into what appeared to be a photo album. He tried to open the cover, but it was charmed shut.

"What's that?" Sara whispered.

"A photo album, I think. It's charmed shut."

"Aren't you a charm breaker?" she snapped.

"Yes," he said distractedly. "But Isabelle's a genius, which makes opening this thing difficult."

"And also means that she doesn't want people to see whatever's in that album," Sara replied, rubbing her hands together excitedly. The sooner this job was over, the better for her. She was beginning to get attached to Sirius Black.

After a few minutes, Andrew managed to get the album open. He flipped through the pages, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until he reached the middle of the book. It was a picture of Isabelle, shortly after she went to America. She was at a beach, in a red flowered bikini, on the shoulders of a tall, tan man who looked to be in his mid to late twenties. The man kept acting like he was going to throw her into the water, and both of them were laughing hysterically as waves washed over them. Puzzled, he showed Sara the picture.

"Something about this man is familiar, but I can't figure out what," he mused.

She stared for a minute until something clicked in her mind. "That's Severus Snape. I'm sure of it."

"How?" he asked incredulously. The man in the picture bore little resemblance to the Potions professor.

"He wears a ring on a chain around his neck that's identical to the one in this picture."

"So, Snape was the Death Eater that looked after her," Andrew realized.

"Exactly. Snape was seen a month ago, along with Isabelle's ex-husband Sergei Remizov, with Lord Voldemort. Not to mention those rumors that she's having an affair with Lucius Malfoy, another well-known Death Eater."

"Incorrect rumors," Andrew scowled.

"For pity's sake, she's got you fooled, too!"

"Alright, even accepting all of that as fact, how do you explain her alliance with Sirius Black? She's more loyal to him than the rest of them put together."

"Easily. We might not be able to prove that he's a Death Eater, trust me, I checked. But, that doesn't mean that he isn't allied with the Dark Lord. All of this is more than coincidence to me."

"Me, too." He sighed. "At least we have something to tell Fudge."

"At long last," Sara said triumphantly.

Andrew didn't share her enthusiasm. He smiled wryly as he put away the album and straightened up the room. With a heavy heart, he followed Sara downstairs, through the house, and into Hogsmeade to meet Isabelle.

-----

The gentle lulling of the train rocked everyone to sleep in the compartment except Isabelle, who stared into the night sky as the scenery rolled by. She shifted Abbie in her lap, and brushed her hair out of her eyes before checking her watch. It was quarter of ten.

"Sirius?" she whispered softly, knowing he would awaken immediately.

"What?" he grumbled, slowly opening one eye.

"We're almost in Hogsmeade."

He yawned and stretched, blinking furiously. "I'll go wake up the kids."

"Thank you," she replied.

After fighting on New Year's Eve, they had barely spoken to one another. Sirius stormed out the living room when Severus left for Hogwarts on New Year's Day. But, he did stay in Williamsburg an extra two days with the excuse of showing the children the town, although he shot Isabelle daggers with his eyes whenever they were in the same room. She was quite thankful when he, Harry and Hermione left for London three days ago.

They met up with she, Phillip, Stephen and Abbie earlier today in Diagon Alley. She and Phillip decided that the children were not safe in Williamsburg any longer. And, that a new environment would help them adjust more easily to their new life. So, Phillip made arrangements to open the thirteenth office of Spence, Markham and Powers in Hogsmeade. Lucky number thirteen, he had said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

"Phillip," she hissed, shaking him slightly. "Wake up."

He stirred, sitting up and putting on his glasses. "Where'd Sirius go?"

"To get the kids. They decided to stretch out in the compartment across the hall," she explained.

A sleepy Hermione, Harry and Stephen walked in, flopping down on the bench across from Isabelle and Phillip. Sirius began passing everyone their suitcases from the overhead storage area. After placing her small bag at her feet, Isabelle closed her eyes and leaned against the back of the seat. If only life could go back to the way it was Christmas Eve before the dance. But, there was no use living in the past, she told herself firmly. Besides, at least she knew what kissing Sirius Black was like, even though she knew that was a once in a lifetime experience. Well, twice, she thought, her face turning scarlet.

"What are you blushing for?" Phillip asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, just thinking about Andrew," she lied, knowing that he didn't believe her for a second.

The train stopped at the station, and everyone filed out the train. Isabelle rushed over to Andrew, with Abbie still in her arms.

"Hey," he said softly, kissing her and taking her bag.

"Hey, yourself," she replied. They walked down the ramp together, talking quietly.

Sirius followed at a safe distance, fuming. Isabelle's former lovers surrounded him. Current, he corrected himself dejectedly, looking at she and Patil. And who knew what was going on with she and Malfoy. Who had a knack for conveniently showing up just when Isabelle was most vulnerable. Patil, Spence, Malfoy – all of whom were still around, showing interest in her. He didn't know what ached worse: his head, or his heart.

-----

Hermione stormed in the Gryffindor common room and flung herself in an empty chair beside Harry, and crossed her arms.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, not looking up from his Astronomy textbook. He completely forgot that he had to map out three constellations of his choice for tomorrow's class. So, he spent the last half hour trying to find the three least complicated constellations and was busy transferring them onto his parchment.

"Ron," she spat.

"Ok." Harry carefully plotted out the Little Dipper, and expertly connected the stars together. He was considering whether to add a little flair to his project when Hermione interrupted his train of thought.

"Beautiful. Now, are you going to listen to me, or what?"

"What."

"Must you be a prat all the time?"

"Yes. I need to get my Divination homework done, and I'm guessing that you're going to tell me I've lost my study partner. Right?"

"Right." She wrung her hands dramatically. "On the train ride, I decided to break up with Viktor to see where things went with Ron. Well, on my way to the dungeons, I saw Ron flirting with another girl. So, I asked him about it, and he starts yelling at me."

"And you yelled back."

"No, I just told him that I wasn't going to play his silly games. I've got better things to do with my time."

She tossed her hair back, and immersed herself in a large medical textbook. Harry just shook his head. She and Ron were like an endless Muggle soap opera, he decided. It was best to avoid their vortex as much as possible, which was difficult considering he was always stuck in the middle of their drama. Sometimes he thought Hermione simply enjoyed the spectacle – something to keep her from getting bored.

"Got enough books over there?" he teased. He could barely see her head over the stack.

"For starters," she called back. A spinning noise echoed through the room. "What are you doing?"

"My Divination homework," he replied.

She peered over the books, and watched Harry spin a charmed arrow around a circle drawn on a piece of parchment. The circle was split into eight parts with headings like "falls into lake, nearly eaten by giant squid" and "horrid Quiddich accident – struck by rogue Quaffle". Her personal favorite was "crushed by giant flubberworms – nasty, painful death".

"Where'd you get that from?" she laughed.

"Aunt Isabelle gave it to me over the holidays. It used to be my dad's. He gave it to her when Mum wouldn't let her quit Divination. He charmed it so that the headings would change every now and then so no one got suspicious. Sure makes homework easier."

"Let's see what the Inner Eye has in store for me," Hermione said in a spooky voice, spinning the arrow. "Cauldron explosion – turns skin green for a week. Bummer."

Harry spun the arrow again. "Paralyzed by basilisk."

"Been there, done that."

They were laughing hysterically at this point. Ron walked into the common room, completely unnoticed by either of them. Stung by his earlier argument with Hermione, and resentful of her relationship with Harry, he slipped by them and stormed to his dorm room.

-----

"Hey, Ron. Where were you last night?" Harry asked, before Potions class started. Hermione buried her nose deeper into her book, pretending Ron didn't exist.

"Helping Phillip Spence set up his new office in Hogsmeade. I'll probably clerk for him on the weekends."

"A second job? Is that the best idea, considering you already have a job, are on the Quiddich team, and have the O.W.L. tests coming up?" Hermione snapped from deep in the recesses of the book.

"Well, not everyone has an enormous trust fund. Some of us have to work for our money," Ron replied, his voice cold as ice.

She looked up and gave him a murderous look before disappearing again. Professor Snape stormed into the room, angrier and meaner than usual, and began the class. He took M.J.'s death particularly hard, and his classes constantly reminded him of her potions talent. Isabelle gave him a reassuring smile from the opposite side of the room.

"Today, in honor of Valentine's Day coming up and because of my good mood—" the class looked around, fearing what was next "—we will begin our study of Love Potions. The trick to a successful potion is making sure you get the correct target. Nothing is more annoying than having someone you're not interested in follow your every move until the effects wear off."

He stopped in front of Hermione, who was still engrossed in the book. Harry tried to give her covert signals so that she would have some warning that Snape was walking towards that side of the room, but she wasn't paying attention.

"Excuse me," Professor Snape said. Her head jerked to attention, with eyes round as saucers.

"Yes, Professor?"

"In case you haven't noticed, class began five minutes ago. Do you know what we're studying?"

"No, sir."

"Ah, I see." He crossed his arms. "Love Potions. Do you think yourself so lucky in love that you have no use for the subject material? Typical Black attitude. What are you reading that's so engaging?"

"Just a textbook," she said defensively. He plucked the book from her arms, and paled when he read the title. A Complete Guide to Cardiopulmonary Disease.

"What class is this?" he thundered.

"Potions."

"Thirty points from Gryffindor for bringing this trash to class. And if you ever bring in another book about anything to do with the human heart into my classroom, I swear that you will have detention until you graduate. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

He marched to the front of the classroom barking out instructions for the lab assignment, closely followed by Isabelle.

"She doesn't know, Severus. It's not her fault. Stop punishing her and Harry when it's Sirius and James you're angry at. Yelling at them won't change anything," she said so that only he heard her.

"And your all-consuming love for them won't change anything, either." They stared each other down for a minute, but couldn't help smiling.

"It's a good thing I love you, grumpy git that you are," Isabelle laughed, sitting down at the desk to grade some Muggle Studies tests on fashion.

"Likewise."

-----

"Come in. The door's unlocked," Isabelle called.

Between the Christmas dance and everything that happened over the holidays, she was getting far behind on grading papers and preparing lesson plans. For the past two weeks, she spent every spare moment in her office, coming out only to eat and sleep. A tall blonde-haired boy entered the office and stood in front of her desk, casting a shadow on the essay she was grading.

"Mr. Malfoy, what can I do for you," she said, looking up. Uncharacteristically nervous, he wrung his hands and cleared his throat.

"Professor, I need to discuss something with you," Draco began.

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow.

"It's about my mother. I believe she's insane," he said coolly, regaining his composure.

"I'm sorry about that Mr. Malfoy, but seeing as how I'm neither a doctor nor a counselor, I'm not sure what I can do about the problem."

Draco leaned on the desk and looked into her eyes. "You don't understand. My mother's spreading rumors at the Ministry that you and my father once had an affair. I overheard her telling this to your ex-husband over the holidays. They have this outrageous idea that you and my father have a child together. Once they find where your child is buried, they will use the paternity results to disgrace both of you and get a fault divorce so they get all your money."

"I see."

"Like I said, Mum's insane and needs treatment. Perhaps commitment to a facility for long-term evaluation. And if you would kindly let Father know that, I would appreciate it. Of course I would be willing to testify as to her illness," he said meaningfully.

Isabelle looked at Draco in disbelief. Was he implying what she thought he was implying? And if so, what was his motive for turning against his mother to support an absentee father? A brief flicker of pain flashed in his eyes, and she understood. He wanted his father's approval so badly that he would do anything for it. If nothing else came of it, she decided to owl Lucius to talk about his son. He was absolutely starving for attention, which could become very dangerous.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for the information. I will pass it on to the appropriate people."

"You're welcome, Professor Evans. Good night."

"Good night."

He turned, and walked out the door.

Isabelle began composing a letter to Lucius. After pausing in the middle of a sentence and thinking for a minute, she flung her pen down on the desk in intense frustration. Her world was quickly becoming a tangled web of alliances. So many secrets, and deceptions – she hated it, all of it. Always having to be on guard, never a relaxed moment. A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," bracing herself for what the next guest to her office might bring.

Sirius walked through the doorway and sat down in front of her desk. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she began talking sharply and rapidly.

"Look, I've had enough drama for one day. So, if you're here to talk about the following subjects, I'm not interested, so please leave my office: Severus going off on Hermione, your and Severus' perpetual hate fest, your daughter's love life, Harry's love life," she ticked the off-limits topics off on her fingers, "and last, but certainly not least, my life in general. Which includes: mourning seven dear friends, my relationship with Andrew, my relationship with Phillip, which preschool to send Stephen and Abbie to, my divorce from Sergei and who is the bloody father of my child. Oh, can't forget Lucius – don't want to discuss him or his son."

"Bad day?"

"Awful." She flung her head on her arms dramatically.

"Maybe this will make you feel better."

"What is it?"

"Food therapy, as Hermione calls it. Double chocolate cheesecake."

"Really?" She perked up slightly, picking up her head from the desk.

"Yes, really." He smiled charmingly.

"Hmmm…as a great thinker once said, beware a man bearing gifts. What did you really come here for?"

"And as another great thinker once said, don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

She laughed, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, you win."

Sirius gave her the cheesecake, which she dug into eagerly. Right before the first bite reached her lips, she stopped her hand in mid-air.

"You didn't make this, did you?" Isabelle asked, horrified at the idea.

"Heck, no," he replied, wondering where on earth she'd get that idea from. "Dobby made it. Belle, you must be under a lot of stress if you think that I'd actually cook something."

"You have no idea."

"Try me."

"Oh, Sirius, there comes a time when you're just sick of wallowing in your own problems, and I think I reached that point about four years ago." She rolled her eyes. "I'm tired of thinking about all of it. I need a mental holiday."

"And where would you go on this holiday?"

She chewed a bite of cheesecake thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Somewhere I can be alone and think without being disturbed, so I can sort some things out. That's the most important part. Well, it has to have a beach, of course. There's just something soothing about the waves."

"And a sunset. It's always been your favorite part of the day," he said, mostly to himself.

"Yes, a sunset is necessary," Isabelle agreed, sighing. "Anyway, I need to finish grading these tests."

Sirius looked at the huge stack of papers she pulled off the bookshelf. "Can I help you with those?"

"Probably not. They're seventh-year potions exams."

"I might not have a doctorate in chemistry like you, but I did pass Potions with the highest grade in the class all seven years. Higher than the esteemed Professor Snape, even," he defended himself. She rolled her eyes.

"I know, Sirius. Fine, you can help, but only on two conditions."

"Which are?"

"One, you stay away from all off-limits conversation topics, including the 'esteemed Professor Snape'."

"Alright. What's the second condition?"

"That you conjure up another piece of that cheesecake."

"Deal."

Sirius disappeared from the office for a few minutes and returned with cheesecake and plenty to drink. For fortitude, he explained, picking up a quill and diving into the exams. As the evening wore on, the combination of an endless sea of parchment and Sirius' drink mixing talent made both of them act punchy.

"Since when does the root of a potato and shavings from an elephant's horn produce dynamite?" Isabelle snorted.

He looked up and read the name scrawled across the top of the exam. "Well, we are talking about Fred Weasley here. I think he can make anything explosive."

"So true. Wonder if that's what he used to blow up our kitchen floor," she mused, giving full credit to the answer just in case.

"Could be. Listen to this one – ostrich feathers, juice from a yellow raisin, and Diet Coke are the main ingredients of liquid Avada Kedavra. For starters, what is Diet Coke?"

"A Muggle beverage. Ugh – does anything sink into their thick skulls?"

"I think I'll give half credit for creativity," Sirius decided.

"Good call," Isabelle said seriously. They burst out laughing hysterically.

Ten minutes later, Sirius charmed Isabelle's pen to shoot water in her face whenever she wrote the number zero. He snickered as she wiped off her face and gave him a dirty look.

"What?" he asked innocently. In response, she made his fingernails turn bright pink.

Somehow, in between pulling pranks on each other and talking, they managed to get the exams graded. With a flourish, Isabelle collected them together, tied them with twine, and shoved them in her briefcase.

"Thank you. You made this fun."

"My pleasure. Maybe we should do this again sometime," Sirius said, putting on his cloak.

"What, grade papers?"

"No, spend time together, just the two of us. We're always so busy. It's just, well, I enjoy being alone with you."

The way he said that made Isabelle's head spin. She grabbed the edge of the desk for support.

"Sure, anytime," she babbled, cursing herself for sounding like a silly schoolgirl.

"How about, say, this Friday night? Hermione said all fifth-years have a nighttime seminar for Astronomy, so there won't be any interruptions."

Her heart pounded in her chest as she hastily threw on her cloak and followed him out of the office. She hoped he didn't notice her hands shake when she locked the door.

"It's a date," she replied with an uncharacteristic shy smile, linking her arm through his. "By the way, that invisibility charm you put on your reading glasses so I wouldn't notice them – didn't work. Besides, I think they're kind of cute, in a distinguished sort of way."

"Really?" Good thing, he thought, because my vision's getting worse by the second, it seems.

"Really."

Sirius looked at Isabelle as they crossed the grounds on their way home. The night sky always made her look angelic, especially when she smiled. Enchanted, he followed the conversation as best as he could, hoping that he didn't sound like a blundering idiot.