Author's Note: So we've come to another one of those scenes that had to be edited for the HP boards. I'd rate this a PG-15 for mild sexuality & adult content. (Sorry, "adult content" always amuses me. What is that, exactly? Whatever it is, this scene has it. I'm the author, & I say so.)

"Cherish" & "This Used to be My Playground" still belong to Madonna, Isabelle still belongs to me, & the HP characters belong to JKR. So, basically everything's quite normal. Enjoy the scene...

Chapter 19: Unedited Ending

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.

"A triple shot of Jose Cuervo for me, and a double for my friend here," she answered, pointing to Sirius.

"Isn't that a bit much?" She stared angrily at him. He threw up his hands. "Alright, sorry."

"Thank you," she said, downing the tequila in a quick gulp.

Then, she asked for the worm from the bottle, deciding to show off one of her hidden talents. Sirius watched her in amazement. He didn't know that a person could do that with a worm. A cherry stem, sure – he'd seen that one a million times. The temperature of the room suddenly shot up about ten degrees, as she winked and led him to the dance floor.

Feeling the effects of the tequila, Isabelle wrapped her arms around his 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're drunk," he said, angry with himself. Seven shots of Jose Cuervo was enough to knock anyone on their rear, especially someone as tiny as she was.

"I am 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 room 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.

All he wanted to do was to give into his desire for her. With every kiss and touch, his willpower quickly faded. She was simply irresistible. And he was a man, not a saint, he reminded himself. And the man in him willingly responded to her advances. There was only so long that he could bottle up his feelings. At least that's how he justified his actions.

"Make love to me," she murmured in his ear.

"What?" He suddenly felt like he was in an alternate reality.

"Why, are you incapable?"

He blinked. "Of course I'm capable, believe me. Why would you ask that question?"

"Well, unless something's happened that I'm not aware of, you're a little – out of practice. As in your last time was around the same time period as my first time."

"Thanks, Belle." He couldn't believe she actually said that. Not that he debated the truthfulness of her words, but still. It was a good thing the room was mostly dark, because he was sure that his face was a violent shade of red.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sirius. It's me, remember? I know you better than anyone else, even things you don't think I know."

"Like what?" He knew he would regret asking the question, but he figured that his humiliation level couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Like that you have a tattoo of a dragon in an interesting location of your body that you got when you were drunk out of your mind during your seventh year at Hogwarts."

Wrong, he thought, as his face burned. How did she know that? More importantly, how could she know that – it wasn't exactly in a location that saw sunlight frequently. After a minute, he decided that he didn't want to know how she found out that piece or information.

"My point is that I know everything about you, and I'm desperately in love with you. I have been ever since I can remember. Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing for me – that you don't love me?"

"Of course I love you. And I want you worse than you could possibly imagine. But--"

"There's always a but, isn't there?" she said bitterly, drawing the comforter around her tightly.

"This isn't right. It's the tequila talking, Isabelle, not you. 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 hard – uh, difficult – this is," he admitted, wincing at his Freudian slip. "Isabelle?"

There was no answer. Sirius sat up and carefully brushed her hair out of her face. She was sound asleep – passed out from the alcohol, he decided. He stood up slowly, trying not to disturb her and quietly left her bedroom. He needed a long, ice cold shower before even thinking about going to sleep.