Author's Note: So I've been a bit of a ditz & forgot to credit the songs I use in this fic. Since I don't own them & don't want to get sued for Intellectual Property violations & all, let me credit them now. Going back in time, because I'm far too lazy to correct the originals, here goes:

Chapter 12: "American Woman", performed by Lenny Kravitz
Chapter 13: "High Enough", by Damn Yankees
Chapter 16: "Another Suitcase in Another Hall", from the musical Evita
and from this chapter, "Cherish" & "This Used to be My Playground", by Madonna

If you see any more non-crediting songs mistakes, please let me know, 'k?

Chapter 19

Harry fought to keep his head out his porridge. Since the Christmas holiday, every professor piled on work like crazy to prepare for the O.W.L. tests. Between Quiddich practice and the endless mountain of homework, he barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep. His eyes began to close for the fourth time in ten minutes when the owls swooped in, startling him awake.

"Must they always make that much noise?" he yawned.

Hermione's Daily Prophet smacked him in the back of the head. He tossed it across the table angrily, rubbing the growing bump on his scalp gingerly.

"Temper, temper," she teased.

"You're one to talk. I think I'm going to start selling tickets to yours and Ron's fights so that I can make money off your pettiness."

"Prat." She disappeared into the paper.

Ron plopped down beside Harry, gave Hermione an evil look, and helped himself to a scone.

"Hey, Harry," he said through a mouthful of scone, "my baby sister, who you better be treating right or else, asked me to tell you that she overslept and will see you at lunch."

"Even if I wasn't a perfect gentleman, a school full of older brothers would inspire me to be. What's so funny?" he asked Hermione indignantly, who was laughing so hard the newspaper shook.

"Gentleman. You really should be a comedian, Harry."

"Must run in the family, because you're no lady," Ron said snidely.

She folded the newspaper crisply and smacked it on the table. "Sod off, Weasley, or--"

"Or what? Please enlighten me with your charm and wit, or are you saving that for your idiotic git of a boyfriend? Lord knows you're not saving much else."

Harry's head began to ache, as he tuned out their escalating argument. He looked around the Great Hall to distract himself as he quickly finished his breakfast. Isabelle rose from the table where she was eating with Professor Patil, and walked over to the Slytherin table, skimming a letter. She tapped Draco Malfoy on the shoulder, leaned down, and said something in his ear. He nodded, and they left the Great Hall together. What was that about, he wondered. He picked up his book bag and headed to History of Magic class.

-----

Draco Malfoy quietly followed Isabelle through the maze of hallways to her office. She opened the door, and ushered him inside. He was not surprised to see his father standing at the window with his arms crossed, staring out over the grounds. His jaw clenched angrily.

"So, it's true then, all of it," he spat. "You wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

Lucius turned around and looked at Isabelle, who simply nodded.

"Draco, I--"

"Save your fancy excuses, Father. And, I don't suppose an explanation's needed, either. It's simple, really. You and Mum don't get along, so you go to bed with your best friend's wife, you worthless piece of trash."

"That's enough," Isabelle interrupted sharply. "Do not speak to your father that way, at least not until we give you an explanation. You are not a child, Draco. You're old enough to understand an adult's needs and desires, and also that adults are not perfect. We make mistakes, and we hurt people in our selfish pursuit of happiness. You may not agree with what we did, but at least be man enough to respect our decisions and willingness to discuss them."

"Fine. Go on." Still fuming, he sat down, slouching and not meeting either one of their eyes.

"You're right about your mother and I. Things haven't been good between us for quite some time. But, stupidly or not, we decided to try and keep the perfect family image together for your sake."

"How noble of you," Draco sneered.

Lucius decided to ignore his son's comment. "I first met Isabelle at a Christmas party many years ago, before you left for Hogwarts. When you were in your second year, she was my houseguest in Brighton while her husband was away in London on business."

"It was a lonely time for both of us. My marriage was a façade – Sergei was, and is, a hateful, spiteful monster. Our affair was wrong, no question about it. And yes, I realized he was that Lucius Malfoy and I am that Isabelle Evans. But, at the time, Isabelle Evans didn't exist anymore, and as far as I knew, never would again. If Voldemort hadn't returned, things may have turned out differently."

She glanced over at Lucius, who quickly turned his gaze out the window. In that split second, Draco saw something he'd never seen before from his father – vulnerability. His father loved her enough to protect her, even though she lied to him about her very identity.

"Despite everything, I still care for your father very much. And always will, even though we'll probably have other romantic relationships. He's one of my closest friends, if only behind closed doors. And, I'm always here for you if you need me, no matter what you decide to do about the situation with your mother."

He looked in her deep green eyes, and realized that she actually cared about him. Which was more than he felt from anyone else, his mother included. In spite of himself, Draco smiled. He saw exactly why his father fell for her.

"About your mother," Lucius said carefully, "I know you said you'd testify that she's insane just to get Isabelle and I to tell you the truth about our relationship, correct?"

"Yeah, but I'm no fool, Father. If those rumors spread around, then Voldemort will begin to suspect that we're helping the other side. And, the Ministry will think that our family's in league with the whole Potter and Black clan to help Voldemort. So, either the Ministry will arrest us all on some trumped up charges, or the Dark Lord will kill us off. Mother must be stopped before the situation gets out of hand."

"I know this isn't easy, Draco," Isabelle said sympathetically.

"We all do what we need to do to survive. Besides, it would ruin my reputation to be publicly associated with Potter's aunt." He grinned wickedly. "Not that you're all bad."

"Thanks," she grumbled.

"Alright, if you're sure, I'll go tell Dumbledore that you need to leave for a few days because of a family emergency."

"I'm sure," Draco said with a somewhat sad, but determined look on his face.

"Why don't you go pack? I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall," Lucius replied.

He nodded, and left the office.

Isabelle crossed the room and stood at the window. Lucius followed her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She placed her right hand on top of his, and squeezed it gently.

"Better watch that son of yours before the Dark Lord traps him," she warned.

"Over my dead body."

"That may be."

"Doubtful. We're just alike, you and I. We're survivors."

"But, we pay a price for that, don't we?" she said bitterly.

"Yes, I suppose we do."

They stood for a minute, silently watching the waves crash against the lake shore. Lucius let go of her, and turned to leave. His hand paused on the doorknob.

"Do you ever wonder what might have been?" he asked.

"I try not to. If I did, the what ifs and might have beens would drive me mad. Good luck to you. Narcissa's not going down without a fight."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "Do you want me to owl me to tell you what happened?"

She shook her head no. "I'll either read about it in the news or ask Draco. Less suspicious that way."

"Fine. Goodbye, Isabelle." Without waiting for a reply, he closed the door behind him.

-----

Ron ran his hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and leaned back in his chair. For three hours now, he'd been looking through various law casebooks, law review articles and commentaries, trying to find something on subject matter jurisdiction. Whatever that was, Phillip needed a memo on the difference between establishing subject matter jurisdiction in England as opposed to America by the end of the day. Which, according to his watch, was in exactly ninety minutes.

Although he'd only been working with the legal system for a month, Ron had an incredible aptitude for processing and analyzing law. He found himself reading Lawyers' Weekly between classes, and during his shifts at the Muggle Studies lab. Because he worked at the lab, he was incredibly familiar with the Muggle lifestyle and culture. Since Spence, Markham and Powers dealt primarily with conflicts issues between the Muggle and wizarding legal systems, Ron was an ideal law clerk.

Somehow, he found the time to keep up with his schoolwork and Quiddich while working. It didn't give him a lot of spare time, though, which was somewhat of a blessing these days. Whenever his mind wandered, it always went to the same place – Hermione.

There was something about her that got under his skin, which drew him to her although she was completely impossible to be around. As if her massive O.W.L. study guides and timetables weren't annoying enough, she kept bringing Viktor around, even to the Gryffindor common room. That was beyond insulting, in Ron's opinion. How could she go back to Krum, like what happed between she and him over Christmas holidays meant nothing to her?

And she had the nerve to blame him for their fling fizzling out, when she was the one who chose to stay with Viktor. Ron maintained that he was single, and even if he was flirting or even snogging another girl, it was no different than what she was doing herself. Unfortunately, she didn't see it that way. Neither did Harry, for that matter. Who for some reason took Hermione's side in the whole conflict. So much for the loyalty of your best mate, he grumbled, picking up a quill and beginning to write.

He hastily scribbled a brief history on subject matter jurisdiction in America. He paused often to make sure he got the case law correct, snickering at case names like International Shoe. Why would someone, in their right mind, name a corporation International Shoe? Shaking his head, he continued writing his memo.

Voices floated down the hallway. Curious, he tilted his head so that he could hear better. Phillip rarely made client appointments on Saturdays. In fact, he couldn't remember him ever having one before. Usually, Phillip dropped Stephen and Abbie off with Isabelle for the day, and caught up on casework.

"Thanks for seeing me on a Saturday. It's so difficult to get out of that castle during the week."

Ron recognized the voice instantly and scooted closer to the door, his memo forgotten. What legal business did Sirius have?

"No problem. Kids will keep you busy. Besides, this is pretty standard. Now, I have to ask you some questions that are completely asinine, but you have to answer them to make this document legal," Phillip answered.

"Ok."

"What is this document?"

"It is my will."

"And, does it accurately describe the way you would like your estate to be settled upon your death?"

"It does."

"Please briefly describe the contents of the will."

"All of my wife's possessions that I inherited upon her death go to our daughter. The remainder of my assets is to be divided equally between Hermione and Isabelle. The exceptions are," Sirius paused briefly, "the Black estate in Chelsea goes to Hermione alone, as does my house in Milan. I think that's it."

"Is there any circumstances that would alter the way you would want your estate settled?"

"Yes. In the event that Isabelle remarries, her interest in my estate does not extend to her husband or any children of the marriage as long as the husband is alive. If I have any other children, which at my age is not going to happen, they are to be recognized as additional legal heirs."

"Works for me. Sign here, and here, and we're done."

Ron peered around the doorjamb and into Phillip's office. Sirius picked up a quill, and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the parchment. It was difficult for Ron to get used to seeing Sirius wearing eyeglasses. He rolled up the parchment, and gave it to Phillip.

"Will you send this straight to my vault in London? I don't want Isabelle to know about it, at least not yet. She would think that I'm tempting fate by making a will."

"Yeah, she is superstitious like that," Phillip laughed.

Sirius eyed him thoughtfully. Phillip Spence was exactly the type of man he'd always hoped Isabelle would fall for, and marry. In a perfect world, Isabelle would've married him, and had that house full of kids that she wanted so badly. Two boys and two girls, she always said. That way, everyone always had someone to play with, which was important to her since she was raised more or less as an only child. And he would be the doting godfather, and falling in love with her would be the farthest thought from his mind.

But, in a perfect world, he reminded himself, Isabelle would never have met Phillip Spence. She would have stayed at Hogwarts, and he wouldn't have gone to prison. And what would have happened then? he wondered. Deep in his heart, he knew the answer to the question, but he didn't want to admit it, least of all to himself.

"Thank you, again," Sirius said, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Like I said, no problem." He looked at his watch. "I need to rescue Isabelle from the kids in a minute. Didn't realize it was getting so late. Isn't she supposed to go to dinner with you?"

"No, that was last night," he sighed. "That got interrupted by the Stacey crisis."

Phillip shook his head and smiled. "Don't have much luck, huh?"

"No, I don't."

"You really love her, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Sirius admitted, looking down at his hands.

Ron's jaw dropped open in complete shock. He buried his head in his memo, furiously writing. If it wasn't done in the next ten minutes, they would know for sure that he was eavesdropping on the conversation. And that would be hazardous to his health.

"There's this really small Italian place in London. It's near Abbey Road, and it's her favorite restaurant, mostly because it's really quiet," Phillip said carefully. Sirius looked up, surprised.

"Thanks," he replied slowly, unsure of what to say, exactly. Was he giving him advice on where to take Isabelle on a date?

"Hey, man, it's cool," he laughed at the look on Sirius' face. "Isabelle's my best friend, nothing more. And I'd like to see her happy for a change."

Ron tuned out the conversation, finishing up his footnotes quickly. He scanned the parchment, making minor corrections in the margins. Although it wasn't his best work, he was proud of it nonetheless. He rolled it up, picked up his cloak, and dropped the memo in Phillip's box before leaving the office. Taking the castle steps two at a time, he hurried into the entrance hall. He needed to find Hermione. Finally, he had information that he knew would impress her, he thought with a small smile.

-----

Sirius looked across the table at Isabelle, who was idly tracing the top of her wine glass with her index finger. A small smile flickered across her face, and she bit her lip thoughtfully.

"What is it?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and sighed happily. "The most wonderful thing in the world – silence." She opened her eyes, reached across the table, and squeezed his hand. "No children, no students, no friends having crises, no talk of a Death Eater attack. Just quiet."

"It is a first, isn't it?" he laughed. She nodded, and let go of his hand.

"This is probably the first evening we've spent completely alone in what, fourteen years?"

"Fourteen and a half, to be exact. And how alone were we then?"

"True. Gracie did rule the roost." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Not much has changed, has it?"

"Not a thing."

"Wow, we'll have to entertain ourselves for a whole night. No papers to grade tonight, or anything."

"I think we'll manage somehow," Sirius said with a crooked smile.

"How did you know about this restaurant, anyway?" Isabelle asked curiously.

"Phillip suggested it," he answered honestly.

"Oh, so this is a conspiracy? Figures."

"If you call taking you away from the madness that is your life for one night a conspiracy, then I guess it is. I happened to mention something about dinner to Phillip when I was in his office today, so he suggested this restaurant," Sirius defended himself.

"Why were you in his office?" she asked through narrowed eyes.

Stupid, he cursed himself. "Legal stuff."

"Phillip's a lawyer, so I figured that. What legal stuff?"

"Fine. I made a will."

"A will? Why would you need one of those? You're tempting fate, Sirius."

Her face clouded over. Sirius wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. It took, what, ten minutes for me to ruin the evening? he thought miserably. Luckily, the waiter interrupted them. After placing their orders, Isabelle looked at him and swallowed nervously.

"Well, if we're getting everything out in the open, I haven't been totally honest with you, either. There's a lot I've been hiding from everyone, but you, especially."

"Like what?" Sirius suddenly got an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last time she wasn't being honest, he found out about Malfoy. What else could she possibly be hiding?

"Well, where should I begin? The beginning, of course," she babbled, picking up her wine glass and downing the contents in one gulp. She motioned for the waiter to refill the glass, which he did promptly. After taking a few large sips, she took a deep breath and continued.

"When I was a student at Hogwarts, Ministry officials somehow found out about a certain talent that I possess. And they, more or less, bribed me into working for them as an Unspeakable."

Sirius' jaw dropped. He was a high-ranking Ministry official at the time, and he had no idea. "Bribed you how?"

"The Minister of Magic told me that they had some information on you that would send you to Azkaban for life. And, I knew he was telling the truth, even though I didn't get actual confirmation on what you did until two years later. Anyway, he said as long as I did what I was told, everything would stay quiet."

"Oh, Isabelle. Why didn't you come to me?" he stammered.

"Because they said that someone was always watching me, and if I ever said a word about anything, they would kill me."

"What 'talent' do you have that was so important to the Ministry?" Isabelle traced the pattern of the tablecloth with her finger. "You know you can tell me anything. What did they make you do?"

"I mostly interrogated people and analyzed classified documents. In disguise, of course. And, I'm a – well, a mind reader," she whispered.

"A what?" His head spun.

"Shhh," she hissed, as the waiter brought out their food. "Technically, it's called Discernment. Basically, I'm like a human truth serum. That's the best way I can describe it. And, I can read the thoughts of most people. It's kind of hard to tune them out sometimes."

Sirius had a horrified look on his face, and gulped. Isabelle laughed.

"Don't worry, I haven't been able to read a single thought of yours since I was about thirteen. You're completely unreadable." She winked, as he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Anyway, let's jump to the present, or the more immediate past. I magically reappear from the dead, which put the Ministry in a panic, I'm sure. Especially when they find out who my ex-husband is. They didn't exactly treat me well, even though I collected an awful lot of information for them. Too much information for one person to know. So, the Ministry sent a spy to Hogwarts to check up on me, see what I'm up to."

"A spy?" Sirius knew he was sounding like a parrot, but all of this was news to him.

"Yes, Andrew Patil. They must have been watching me constantly to send someone I – point being, it was a good choice. Old boyfriend, at our old school. Very quaint. Quite impressive, really." She laughed ironically.

"And you're dating him?"

"Sirius, I do what I have to do to survive," Isabelle said sharply. "Besides, it's not all bad. He does care for me; sometimes it's worth being around him just to read his guilty conscience."

"But that doesn't make any sense. If the Ministry knows that you can read minds, wouldn't they realize that you'd know you were being spied on?"

"Exactly. Fudge is such an idiot, I swear. When they realized that, the Ministry decided to try another avenue of keeping tabs on me. And, since the Ministry's obsessed with the idea that you're an agent of the Dark Lord, they chose to kill two birds with one stone."

"You don't mean--" his face turned a ghostly shade of white.

"I do. Sara O'Neill is a Ministry spy, and I can prove it."

He looked at her like she had just dropped in from another planet. Sirius motioned for the waiter to come over.

"Bourbon, please. Make that a double, and no ice," he added, dazed. Isabelle watched him down the drink quickly. "Go on."

"Well, remember when we went to Williamsburg?" He nodded. Of course he remembered. "It was a set-up. I purposely made sure the house was completely deserted, figuring that Fudge would have them search the house. Throughout December, I slowly started hiding anything that could be incriminating to either of us under a floorboard in Harry's dormitory. The only thing I left was my photo album from my high school and college years."

"Why that?" Sirius' brow furrowed.

"Because the only thing the album would show is that I went to the beach with Snape when I was sixteen. It was a very specific item for me to target when sifting through someone's thoughts. Also, only an expert charm breaker could've figured out how to open the book. Thought I'd give Andrew a challenge." She shrugged.

"Did they take the bait?"

"Absolutely. It was too easy. Their fingerprints were all over the album."

"Well that's bloody sloppy work."

"Tell me about it." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "And you wouldn't believe the lewd thoughts that Andrew's had about me and my red flowered bikini."

Sirius nearly choked on his tortellini. "Red flowered bikini?"

"Uh-huh. Anyway, the Ministry wants to kill me because they think I'm helping the Dark Lord since they took away what little bit of innocence I had left. Voldemort wants me dead because I know all of the secrets of his band of merry men and he thinks I'm still a Ministry agent. The bounty on my head is enormous, and being Harry's aunt makes me even more hunted. I'm a danger to the family." She hung her head, teary-eyed.

"Isabelle, look at me." She set her jaw and wouldn't look up. He reached across the table and gently lifted up her chin. "None of this is your fault – not a single bit of it. You've been used and exploited by people that you were supposed to be able to trust. No wonder you said that you're a pawn on someone else's chessboard, to be used and discarded at will."

She smiled weakly, surprised that he remembered her words. "Yes, but even a pawn can take down a king, or die trying. I'm not sure which is the greater enemy – Voldemort or the Ministry."

Something clicked in Sirius' head. "That's why you still bother with Malfoy, isn't it? The two of you have some underground survivalist network against both of your enemies, don't you? Quid pro quo…I should've seen it before." She nodded.

"No matter what happens, we'll always share something in common," she said cryptically. "We don't care about ourselves – it's the children. They shouldn't suffer for our sins. Anyway, we try to keep our fat out of the fire, and have a little fun along the way. We keep them chasing their tails most of the time, trying to figure out what's going on. It's hilarious."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Sara before. I wanted concrete proof before I brought it up, and then I got distracted," Isabelle apologized. An evil glint flashed in her eyes, as she dove into a large serving of tiramisu. The only thing she was sorry for is that she waited so long, actually. And that she had to tell him things about her that she really didn't want to, but it was worth it to make him believe her.

"And understandably so." He leaned back in his chair. "You know this makes Hermione at least partially right about her. Which means I'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, yeah? She's been after me to break up with Andrew for months. I can just see the look on her face now – that triumphant, I-knew-I-was-right look."

"Yes, the completely obnoxious one. You know where she gets it from," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Hmmm, could it be her wonderful, brilliant Uncle James?" Isabelle asked with a grin.

"Could be," he replied sarcastically.

"We're horrible, criticizing poor Hermione. I mean, we're her par--" her voice broke off.

"Her parents," Sirius finished, thinking. "And that's the way she thinks of us, too. She always has."

"I know. But, I'm afraid I'll never take her mother's place – in more hearts than one."

"It's not a popularity contest, Isabelle," he said quietly.

"I see."

"I don't think you do." Sirius ran his fingers through his hair somewhat nervously before continuing. "It's my fault, because I'm not very good with words, or with saying what's on my mind. Belle, when I was in Azkaban, all I did, all I could do, was think about what I had lost. My wife, daughter, best friend, sister-in-law, and you – all gone. My only focus was revenge for the past. You changed that, Isabelle."

"How so?" she asked, confused.

"You're so full of life, and optimism for the future that it can't help but rub off on everyone you're around. Before you came back into my life, I was a shadow of a man. Barely alive, physically or emotionally. Harry and Hermione knew me as a cynical, pathetic person who existed by eating disgusting things like rats."

"Rats?" Isabelle was horrified.

"Yes. Point being, you were right last July. I was unfit to be anyone's parent – I was barely human, and nearly incapable of any emotion other than hatred and anger. And full of emptiness. You managed to take four virtual strangers and somehow create a family out of us. I had little to do with it. Yes, there will always be a void where the rest of the family should be. But, life goes on, and things do change."

"Not always for the better."

"True, but I can't really imagine my life being any other way." He smiled across the table. "Or having anyone else to share it with."

Isabelle was speechless, and discreetly pinched herself under the table a couple of times to make sure she wasn't dreaming. After reassuring herself that she was indeed awake, she stared at Sirius dumbfounded. Her whole life, she dreamed that he would say exactly those words to her, and now that he had, she didn't know what to say or do.

After a minute passed, Sirius tapped his fingers on the table nervously. He wished that Isabelle could read his thoughts, so that she would know how sincere his words were. There wasn't anyone else that he would rather spend the rest of his life with. But, she must not feel the same way, because she was being awfully quiet. And her face was suddenly very pale.

"Belle, are you alright?" he asked. She looked like she was in some sort of trance, and slowly looked at him with a funny facial expression.

"Fine," she answered blankly. Good job, she thought, dazed. Congratulations on ruining your one chance to tell him how you feel. Her mind raced for some way to salvage the conversation, or at least her dignity.

Completely convinced that he said too much already, Sirius vowed not to bring up the subject of his feelings for her again. Her life was difficult enough without having to deal with her former guardian falling hopelessly in love with her. In fact, it was selfish of him to nearly tell her everything, especially when she was working through the demons of her past. But, he wanted her to know that he loved her no matter what she did, and that she could trust him with anything. Wrong method, he decided, dejected.

Silence hung over the table for the rest of the meal. Isabelle focused on her tiramisu, mainly so that Sirius couldn't see her teary eyes. She made a valiant attempt at finishing the dessert, but found that she lost her appetite. Looking up, she saw Sirius poking at his chocolate cake disinterestedly.

"Finished eating?" he inquired.

She nodded, and he motioned for the waiter to bring the check. After leaving the waiter a substantial tip for recognizing and respecting their desire to have a private meal, they stepped into the cold winter air. Isabelle wrapped her scarf tightly around her head to ward off the biting wind.

"So, where to next?"

Sirius looked at her, puzzled. He assumed that, seeing as dinner was such an incredible success, that she would simply want to go home. "What do you mean?"

"You promised me an entire evening out. It's not even ten o'clock," she replied, linking her arm through his.

"Well, where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere at all. You're the townie – you pick. I'm just a country girl from Dover, remember? What do I know about the big, bad city?" she teased. Sirius laughed.

"Plenty, I'm sure. Certainly more than I do these days. Alright, country girl, what do you say to just walking the city, and seeing what we find?"

"Fine with me." She smiled. Maybe this evening wasn't ruined, after all.

Thinking the exact same thing, Sirius took removed his arm from Isabelle's, wrapped it around her waist, and guided her through the crowded street. He knew this was completely unnecessary, but he felt the compulsive need to protect her somehow. Or at least continue the delusion that he could, at least on some small level, shield her from anything that could be harmful. Even a stray elbow or step on the foot from some careless passerby.

It never ceased to amaze him just how much of her life Isabelle had devoted to him, how much she had sacrificed. Her innocence, for starters. Well, what little was left after her joke of a father and Petunia were finished with her. How could so much have happened to her right under my nose, and why was I so powerless to stop people from hurting her? he wondered.

If he had known what was going on all those years ago, he would have put an end to it immediately. The Ministry had nothing on him, no hard evidence. They intimidated her into doing what they wanted, and she went along with it.

The question, Sirius thought as they made their way through the crowd, was why? Why would she put herself on the line for him? After thinking for a minute, he decided that it didn't matter why. All that mattered is that she went to great lengths to help him throughout her entire life. From the day she came into his life, she was unusually devoted to him.

And there was nothing he could possibly do to repay her for all that she has done for him, no way to even the score. He would always be in her debt. It truly was because of her that he was alive. He tightened his hold on her, remembering how he was about thirty seconds from suicide once, and she unknowingly talked him out of it.

She was his rock, he admitted freely to himself. Without her, he would be completely lost. Part of him wanted to hold her and never let go. But, the other part of him felt guilty for wanting a woman he raised. And that part always kept him from telling her how he felt about her, even as they became progressively closer during the past few weeks.

Which was likely to change, now that Stacey was around again. He got the distinct impression that she wasn't overly fond of him, which wasn't surprising, considering that she was with Snape. It seemed like every time he was close to being with Isabelle, something happened to drive them apart again.

She stopped suddenly in the street. Totally lost in his thoughts, he wasn't paying attention and nearly ran her over. He quickly grabbed her to keep her from falling onto the sidewalk, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Sorry about that," he whispered in her ear before letting her go.

"That's quite alright," she replied shakily.

"Why'd you stop, anyway?"

Isabelle pointed to a tall brick building. "See that window up there? The second to the right of the fire escape? That's my flat."

"How many homes do you have? Sorry, I mean Harry," he laughed.

"Enough," she answered coyly. "Anyway, I just wanted to show you my London flat. Not exactly a mansion in Chelsea, but it's pretty comfortable."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'd love to get rid of that house. Bad memories."

"Then why don't you just sell that house and put the profit in Hermione's trust fund?"

"It was my mum's home before she married my dad, so it's the only tie I have to her." "I didn't know that," she said softly. "If it makes you feel better, I can't get rid of the old house in Dover, even though I haven't set foot in it since we abandoned it. Guess we're a couple of sentimental fools, huh?"

"Guess so," he agreed.

"Anyway, that's where I stay when I'm in town," she said dismissively, and continued walking down the street.

A million different thoughts raced through Isabelle's mind, and most of them centered on Sirius, whose hand was still wrapped tightly around her waist. Not that she minded one bit. In fact, she felt like she was lost in a dream, where she finally got her chance to show him how she felt. A slow smile spread across her face.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

Nothing except that she had high hopes for the evening. However, she realized that she needed a little help in keeping up her nerve. I've come this far, so I might as well tell him everything, she decided.

Which was easier said than done, so she looked up and down the busy streets for a pub or bar. Any old place would do, as long as it served the liquid courage she so desperately needed. Sirius paused outside a club, and wrinkled his brow, puzzled.

"Where have I heard that music before? It sounds very familiar," he mused.

Isabelle laughed. "Maybe every morning when I'm in the shower? Or, perhaps whenever your kid's around the house, studying? Or, possibly--"

"I get the point. As my kid would say, you're being a prat. So, are you going to tell me who this is, or not?" he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe." He glared at her. "Fine, fine. The music is by an American witch, Madonna. Her music is ridiculously popular, even in the Muggle world. It's the fashionable thing these days for huge stars to test out new music in underground clubs. I guess that's what's going on here."

"So, how about it?"

"You're kidding, right?" She looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"Why not?" He shrugged.

After all, if there was one thing he could do, it was dance. Besides, from the brief glimpses he got of the interior of the club, the floor was completely crowded. Which would give him little choice but to dance as closely as humanly possible with her. Hiding a smirk, he adopted a completely innocent, selfless expression.

"I just would've thought that this scene would be a little too – well, young for you," she stammered.

He frowned. Being called old definitely put a damper on his mood. "No, it's not, thank you very much. And, if I remember correctly, Madonna is close to my age. So, there."

"How can you remember that, but not her name?"

"Guess it's old age creeping up on me," he answered sarcastically. "Are you coming, or what?"

"Um, just how do you plan on getting into the club? It's by invitation only," she pointed out.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, trying not to lose his temper. He loved her, but she knew exactly which buttons to push to make him angry, whether she tried to or not. It truly was a talent, he decided.

"I'm the richest man in the world. I go wherever I want," he said through clenched teeth.

Isabelle raised her eyebrow skeptically as he went to talk to the bouncer. A minute later, he motioned for her to follow him into the hazy, smoke-filled club.

"Fine, so you win," she admitted, muscling her way to the bar.

"What do you want?" the bartender asked, eying her up and down.

She ordered a drink, downing it quickly. Immediately feeling its effects, Isabelle wrapped her arms around Sirius' neck provocatively. Encouraged by the fact that he didn't exactly pull away, she began dancing like in her dreams about him, singing along with "Cherish".

So tired of broken hearts and losing at this game
Before I start this dance
I take a chance in telling you
I want more than just romance
You are my destiny, I can't let go baby can't you see
Cupid please take your aim at me

Truer words were never sung, she thought, spinning around the floor. She was always happiest when dancing or with Sirius. Having both at the same time was nothing short of heaven.

But, this was not a fantasy, she reminded herself. And the night had to end sometime. Thinking about that caused her to run for the bar again for fortitude. Sirius gave her a concerned look, but didn't say anything. Isabelle was a grown woman, and he needed to treat her as such. Especially since his current mindset towards her was anything but innocent or platonic.

"How are you doing out there?" Madonna shouted to the crowd, who enthusiastically cheered and applauded. "I'd like to change the pace a little. This song is a part of the soundtrack to the movie A League of Their Own, and it's called 'This Used to Be My Playground'. Hope you like it."

"This is my absolute favorite song by her," Isabelle gasped. The music swept her away as she rested her head on Sirius' shoulder, closing her eyes to listen better.

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say

Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask

Their earlier conversation flashed through Sirius' head. The song perfectly echoed his and Isabelle's feelings about the past, even as they tried to live fully in the present. And create a future – together he hoped. He didn't know whether that was wishful thinking or not, so he forced those thoughts out of his head and concentrated on the song.

But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say

This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy

This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me

"You know what place this song reminds me of?" Isabelle asked quietly.

"The old fort in Dover," he answered immediately. She nodded, with her head still resting on his shoulder.

"The one place you belonged to me, and only me. No one else even knew it existed," she said. She picked up her head and looked him in the eye. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"What?" Sirius was shocked. What was she talking about?

"I said, do you know how much I love you?" she slurred, tripping over her high-heeled shoe.

"Isabelle, you've had too much to drink," he said, angry with himself.

"I have not. How dare you say that?"

"Belle, I've never, ever seen you trip like you just did. Come on, let's go to your apartment down the street."

"But--" she protested, knowing that he would insist on seeing her home. And there was no way he'd take her home to Hogsmeade because heaven forbid the children see her in such a state. She grinned internally; her little tripping routine worked perfectly.

"I really think you need to sleep this off," he said, concerned.

Isabelle allowed Sirius to lead her off the dance floor, retrieve her cloak, and walk her to her flat. He opened the door, and flipped on the light in the living room.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asked.

"Third on the left," she replied, pretending to fall so that he would carry her the rest of the way to her room. Which, of course, he did, gently placing her on the bed.

"Don't leave," she whispered softly.

"I, uh, don't understand."

"Maybe this would help your comprehension." She pulled him down to her level and kissed him passionately.

"Isa--" Sirius feebly attempted to protest, losing himself in her embrace for a minute. "This isn't right. This isn't really you talking. Even if you really meant what you said, it shouldn't be like this. You mean more to me than a random one-night stand that you won't even remember in the morning. I don't want us to make a decision that we'll regret for the rest of our lives."

"How noble of you," she huffed, turning away from him.

"I'm not noble. You have no idea how difficult this is," he admitted. "Isabelle?"

There was no answer. Sirius sat up and carefully brushed her hair out of her face. She was sound asleep. He stood up slowly, trying not to disturb her and quietly left her bedroom.