Chapter 22

Sirius walked through the partially opened front door, which confirmed his suspicions. Isabelle was here. The glow of the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the room. He had an eerie feeling standing in the middle of the room, which looked exactly like it did before they left.

"Isabelle?" he called. His voice echoed throughout the house. "Isabelle, where are you?"

No answer. He began searching the house room by room, with no luck. As he walked onto the back veranda, he suddenly knew where she was. He had to talk to her, to try to make some sense of their peculiar relationship.

Sirius quietly crossed the backyard on his way to Isabelle's old fort, drawn by some magnetic power he couldn't describe. Somehow, he knew that she was there. It's where she always went to be alone and think. As he approached the entrance of the fort, she turned to face him. The moon illuminated her features, giving her the angelic glow that never failed to take his breath away.

"Isabelle?"

She laughed hollowly. "Right on time. I should've expected this."

"Expected what?" Her cold response shocked him.

"Every time, I begin to get over you, you manage to show back up," she spat, eyes full of contempt.

"Over me? What are you talking about?"

"Typical Sirius. Completely blind to what's in front of you." She sighed. "I can lie to you in front of the children or anyone else that asks. But, not here. Do you remember the first time you found me here?"

"How could I forget?"

"I was so scared, and felt so alone. Then, you came here, and you spoke to me. And, from that first word, I knew my life would never be the same. Remember when you told me about our star?"

"Of course." He smiled at the memory.

"Every night since then, I would go outside and look at the stars. Sometimes I would talk to them, and pretend that you and everyone else could hear me. Other times I would just stare, and make a wish."

"What did you wish?"

"For the one thing I've always wanted, and will never have." She closed her eyes, and slowly slid down the doorway, pounding her fists on the ground. "Damn you, and your stars. And damn the dreams I wished on them. I'm tired of hoping and dreaming – no more. I'm through with all of it. Sirius, I hate you. I hate you and everything you stand for. Most of all, I hate that you'll never, ever love me."

"I do, Isabelle," he said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. She threw it off, and spun around to face him, wild-eyed.

"Don't patronize me. You ruined me, Sirius. You made me love you more than anyone else, but you didn't want me, either. You never have. No one has even remotely compared to you, but what choice did I have other than to try to forget you in the arms of another man? But, I never forgot," she sobbed, clenching her fists tightly. He knelt down beside her and pulled her to his chest.

"Let go of me!" she screamed, pushing him away. She wiped her tears on her robe sleeve and looked at the water. "Let me tell you something about your precious stars. Every night, they twinkle so brightly in the sky, just out of my reach. Beautiful to look at, but untouchable. Just like you."

Sirius caught her by the arm as she tried to run away and pulled her into a tight embrace. His free hand trembled as he turned her face to his, brushing away a stray tear.

"Gráim thú, (I love you)" he whispered, looking into her disbelieving eyes. "Tá tú an grá mo chroí, anim anam chara. (You are the love of my heart, my soulmate)"

"What? S-stop mocking me," she wailed, trying to break free of him.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it, which wasn't far from the truth. He needed her, and was willing to show her by any means necessary to make her understand.

"Was that mocking you? Isabelle, I meant what I said. Please believe me," he begged. She fell limply to the ground in shock.

"You just feel sorry for me. Just leave," she pointed to the pathway. "Leave!"

"No. I'm not leaving until you listen to me. You are the love of my heart. You stole my heart from the very first time I saw you. And, yes, I was blind to the fact that you grew up. I wanted you to be a little girl forever. But, that's impossible. So, I've fought this war with myself, trying to deny that I'm completely in love with you."

"Completely?" she snorted.

"Completely," he answered sincerely, kissing her slowly and passionately. "Do you still want me to leave?"

"I think you can stay for a little while," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, smiling wickedly.

-----

Isabelle sat up, looking over the white cliffs at the dawn sky. She had forgotten just how beautiful it was here. The sun's first rays shone on the water, followed by bright sunbeams that matched her mood.

"Awake already?"

She turned around and smiled. "I couldn't sleep. I just knew that you'd disappear the second I fell asleep. Then I'd wake up, alone, and all of this would be a dream. The best dream I've ever had, but still, only a dream."

"The best dream you've ever had, huh?" he repeated with a crooked smile. She made a face. "You said it, not me. Hey, where are you going?"

"To find some breakfast. Get yourself together and join me," she called, walking towards the house.

Surely there were at least a fifteen-year-old jar of preserves and a box of biscuits somewhere in this kitchen, she thought, poking through the empty cabinets. Desperate, she threw open the pantry door. Nothing. She flung herself down at the kitchen table, frustrated.

"What's wrong?" Sirius yawned, walking into the house.

"There's nothing to eat." Her stomach growled loudly, as if to drive in the point. He laughed.

"Too bad we can't use the Floo Network to get to a grocery store, and have to walk off grounds to Apperate anywhere. I'm sure Lord Voldemort, or at least Sergei, has all of my properties closely watched for any activity."

Sirius nodded. "I'm sure. Well, I'm afraid that only leaves one option."

"What's that?"

"Live off love," he joked, leaning down and kissing her. Her stomach growled even louder.

"I don't think so."

"Well, are we walking or taking a car?"

Distracted by his embrace, Isabelle made an unknowing confession. "No, I blew them up, remember?"

Sirius didn't quite know what to say to that. He tried to keep an even expression on his face, so that she wouldn't realize what she had just said. Clueless, she smiled and led him out of the front door to walk to the estate gate, where they could Apperate to go shopping.

-----

Isabelle rested her head on Sirius' shoulder, quietly thinking as they watched the sunset on the back veranda. The past three days had flown by, and she couldn't help wishing that the week would last forever. For the first time in her life, she was truly, completely happy. She didn't want to return to a world full of divorce proceedings, Death Eater threats, classes to teach, papers to grade, children to raise…and Severus.

Who would be livid once he found out where she's been, and whom she's been with. He wouldn't understand that to her, loving Sirius is as necessary as breathing. She didn't want to hurt Severus, and she loved him very much, but she just couldn't deny the realization of the only dream that she's ever had.

Maybe I could make him see that Sirius loves me, and, and then what? she thought. He'll never approve of this, so you're stuck between the two men you love most in this world.

"Why are you so quiet?" Sirius whispered in her ear.

"Just thinking about how the holidays are almost half over."

"Don't remind me."

Isabelle sat up and looked at him. "Do you know what the best part of this whole week has been?"

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a suggestive look.

"Other than that," she said, exasperated, swatting at him.

"How do you know what I was thinking?" he asked, pretending to be offended. She rolled her eyes.

"Deny that your mind was in the gutter."

"My mind wasn't in the gutter; it was somewhere else entirely. Anyway, what's the best part of the whole week?"

"I'm not afraid," she said quietly, but with conviction.

Sirius put his arm around her, thinking. Although he knew her better than anyone, he didn't know how far to push her. She had her barriers and boundaries, even with him, and when he crossed one, she shut up completely. Suddenly, he felt a bit ridiculous treading carefully around the skeletons in her closet. Whatever happened in the past still hurts her, and it won't get any better unless the subject gets brought up.

"Isabelle, why did you blow the cars up?"

She stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"Earlier this week, you said that we couldn't take one of the cars because you blew them up. What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Can we go in now? It's getting chilly, and I think I'm catching a cold."

"Sure," he replied lightly. Directly asking her wasn't getting anywhere, so he had to resort to tricking her into telling the truth. "Didn't your father have some sort of sports car? A Jaguar?"

"No, an Aston Martin DB4 convertible," she replied in a dead voice, turning to walk in the house. Sirius caught her arm.

"This has got to end, Isabelle. I've kept your secret for at least twenty-two years now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated evenly.

"You're a liar. Whatever you're hiding is destroying you from the inside out. You can trust me with anything," he pleaded.

"Leave me alone."

"Fine." He let go of her arm and started walking towards the door.

"I didn't blow up the car."

Sirius stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face her. She was looking downward at the brick veranda, tracing the pattern of the bricks with her toe. Her chin quivered slightly as she took a ragged breath.

"I hacked the Aston Martin to pieces, then I melted it. After that, I blew the garage sky high and went to Diagon Alley for ice cream."

He lifted her chin with his hand and looked into her petrified green eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"B-because h-he, that is, m-my father, he," she floundered.

Hiccups from fright shook her tiny frame. He enveloped her in his arms, wishing he could erase the pain somehow. There was nothing he could do but hold her and listen to her desperate attempts not to cry. Sometimes she was simply too stubborn for her own good.

"It's ok," he said reassuringly. "Cry, scream, melt cars – whatever it takes for you to have some closure. Anything that happened isn't your fault. It never was."

"You've known all along, haven't you? Never mind, that's an absurd question. Why didn't you ever say anything? Because I wouldn't admit anything, not as long as Lily lived, anyway. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Oh, I finally get to join the conversation?" Isabelle managed a brief smile. "So that you know that you're not alone. And, that I know all of your deepest, darkest secrets, and I'm still desperately in love with you."

"Likewise," she said softly, looking at him adoringly.

The passage of time never changes some things; even now, he was her hero. Somehow, he always managed to make her feel better about anything, even her warped, twisted life.

-----

Isabelle woke up and rolled over. In a sleepy haze, she stretched out her arm, feeling nothing but empty bed. Frowning, she sat up, brushing hair out of her face. She drew her knees to her chest, wondering where Sirius could be, especially so early in the morning.

Stretching, she stood up and wandered to the window. Her bedroom had a perfect view of the cliffs; in fact, it was her favorite part of the entire room. Squinting, she looked at the far end of the grounds. A chill ran down her spine, and she felt paralyzed. Sirius was staring at the sunrise, leaning against Regina's tree.

She felt sick, and limply walked back to the bed. It just wasn't fair, she thought, closing her eyes and leaning back on a pillow. I'm second best, the consolation prize.

But, she told herself firmly, I've known that for as long as I can remember. And I shouldn't expect, or hope for, anything else. If I'm going to be with Sirius, I'm just going to have to get used to that idea.

I must have a thing for men who don't really want me, she thought glumly. Sirius may need me to run his financial empire and raise his daughter, but does he truly want me, Isabelle? If I had never seen him again, would he mourn me like he does Regina? Or would he be just as happy with some other woman?

It doesn't really matter, she concluded while walking into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Because like it or not, you want and need Sirius Black. Whether he returns your feelings or not.

Isabelle quickly showered and dressed. Sighing deeply, she walked downstairs and onto the grounds. She paused for a minute on the veranda, trying to decide whether she should disturb Sirius or not. Before she could make up her mind, he turned and walked to the house, raising a surprised eyebrow.

"You're up early," she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful.

No use starting an argument, she decided. Besides, I probably don't want to hear the truth about why he was out there, anyway.

"Couldn't sleep," he admitted, shrugging. "How could I, when you were with me?"

She laughed, biting her lip. Maybe I overreacted earlier, she thought guiltily. "Do you realize that we have to back to reality in two short days?"

"But, that's two days away," he pointed out, pulling her close.

"I wonder what the children are doing," Isabelle mused.

"Let me see. My darling child is spending her time studying incessantly for the O.W.L. tests and whining about the whole Viktor-Ron thing. I told her forgetting about both of them and becoming a nun sounded like a good option to me, but she's not listening. Kids."

She snorted. "And Harry's keeping Ron company at Phillip's place. I'm guessing since Ron's helping Phillip prepare for my divorce trial, Harry's stuck with Stephen all day. Abbie has a crush on Ron, so she's probably haunting the office."

"When's your trial?"

"In a week and a half. I have a very bad feeling about it, Sirius. Sergei made a motion to change the venue of the trial from Williamsburg to London, and won."

"What's the problem with that?"

"The court's more sympathetic to him. Our family's not exactly popular with the legal community in London."

"Very true. How good is Ron at law, anyway?"

"What, just in case he ends up with Hermione?" she joked.

"Exactly."

"Phillip says he has a natural talent for it. Which he's grateful for, because with Ron clerking for him, he can spend more time with the kids. They're really adjusting well, though. Abbie's doing very well in preschool, and Stephen's, well, Stephen. Do you know what he asked me last week?"

"What?" Sirius smiled at the animated look on her face.

"If I could teach him to dance so that he could impress his girlfriend."

"His girlfriend? Isn't he five?"

"That's what I told him. He then proceeded to inform me that he'll be six in June, and that he's already had two girlfriends."

"Do what?"

"Tell me about it. Oh, and he's kissed both of them. He's the sweetest little boy, but what a devil. I definitely wouldn't want my daughter dating him, that's for sure. But, my daughter would probably take after her mother and be irresistibly attracted to you bad boys."

"Are you including me in that group?" he asked, slightly offended.

"Oh, come on. Don't even pretend, Sirius. I've heard all the stories about you. You and Stephen are cut out of the same mold. Y'all aren't exactly James Potter."

"And you aren't exactly Lily."

"You'd know, wouldn't you? Who's the better kisser – me, or my sister?"

"Uh, what are you talking about?" He turned bright red and started to take a step back.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, grabbing him so that he couldn't get away. "Did James know you had a fling with his girl?"

"Sort of," he replied defensively. "She wasn't his girl back then."

"So answer the question."

"Honestly, I'm not really sure," he said evasively. "I mean, I snogged Lily something like twenty-five years ago, and there's been a lot of women since then."

Isabelle raised her eyebrow, but didn't say a word.

"I didn't mean that. Well, I meant it, but I didn't mean to say it that way. What I meant, is that I don't remember your sister, or any of those other girls. You're all that matters to me."

"Nice recovery. Which completely proves my whole point. Be glad I like you bad."

"Oh, I am, trust me," he said, giving her a mischievous smile. "Enough talk about the kids. Let's worry about them in two days. Until then, you're the only thing on my mind."

"Is that a fact?" she managed to ask in between kisses.

"'Fraid so. As for your question earlier, definitely you, love."

"That's what I thought," she replied archly. Sirius just laughed.

-----

Isabelle wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, taking a break and leaning against the stair railing. For the past three hours, she and Sirius had begun meticulously going through every room of the house, trying to decide what was worth keeping as it is, keeping and storing in the attic, or throwing away.

So far, they kept the kitchen and dining room mostly as-is, and got rid of the living room furniture. Isabelle said the room was like walking into a 1970's time warp. After shrinking and discarding the décor, she started disco dancing around the empty room, which made Sirius laugh hysterically.

"You know, the seventies were pretty good to me," he protested, sitting down on the staircase and looking up at her. She made a face.

"Sure, let's keep the furniture and call it 'retro'," she answered sarcastically. He gave her a hopeful look. "No, Disco Boy. Welcome to the nineties, where actual taste abounds. No way I'm bringing my nephew into a room that looks like it belongs in Saturday Night Fever."

"What's wrong with shag carpet and the disco ball?"

"I'll pretend you didn't ask that question," Isabelle replied, walking up the stairs. Grumbling about the death of his lava lamp, Sirius followed her to the upstairs hallway.

"Where to next?" he asked.

"Well, I've already cleaned out my room, which leaves your room, Lily and James' old bedroom, and the nursery. And the bathrooms, but they won't take very long at all."

He sighed. "This brings back so many old memories that I'm almost afraid to walk in the rooms. Isn't that crazy?"

"No. I feel the exact same way. But, if we actually want to live in this house again sometime in the future, we have to get it over with."

"I know. That's why I didn't bring Hermione into the house last week. I didn't know what we'd find, and I didn't know how she'd handle it. That, and it's technically not my house."

"Did you know that I've always owned this house, ever since Daddy died?"

"No, I didn't," he answered, surprised. She nodded.

"I'm really not sure why, but he divided up his property in his will among the three of us strangely. Petunia got all the money in the bank accounts. Which was a small fortune, from what I've heard. Lily got all of his investments, which was even more money. But, the only thing I inherited was this house. So, when I torched the garage, it was destroying my own property."

Sirius began cursing her father in a wide variety of languages; Isabelle counted at least nine, and those were just the ones she spoke as well.

"Anyway, this is the only property I retain in my own name," she interrupted him. As soon as she finished her sentence, he began swearing again. "Ok, that's enough, potty mouth. Pick a room, any room."

He grinned wickedly. "James and Lily's, of course."

"You're awful," she said, walking in the room and scanning it quickly. She picked up Lily's hairbrush, which still contained long red hairs. "This is so bizarre. I know we left the house this way on purpose, kind of Anne Frank and all, but still. It's creepy."

"No kidding. Now, this is what I'm talking about," he replied, opening the wardrobe and pulling out a slinky black nightgown.

"Sirius Black! Put that away now. There are just some things I don't want to think about my sister doing, ok?"

"What about this one? Or, this one?" He started emptying the drawer, much to Isabelle's dismay.

"Stop that! You're warping my fragile little mind."

"Well, since it's already warped, what do you think about this little number? These Preserving Charms are amazing," he mused. "Hey, this one would look pretty damn good on you."

"It would, but that's not the point. We're supposed to be cleaning here. And besides, what do you think Lily would say if she knew you were picturing her baby sister in an outfit like that?"

"Spoilsport." He frowned.

Giving Isabelle a grumpy look, he helped her sort through the contents of the room. It took an hour, but they finally emptied the room. Sirius levitated the boxes that were going in storage, and sent them into the attic. He poked his head into the bedroom.

"Guess we're going to my room now, huh?"

She nodded. "Scary place."

By the time she got to the room, she saw Sirius furiously trying to hide something. Pretending that she didn't see what he was doing, she walked to the wardrobe and opened it.

"Wow. You really were Disco Boy," she snorted.

"I told you the seventies were good to me."

"So, what's in your pocket?"

"Hmm?" he said innocently.

"Come on. What are you hiding?"

With an uncharacteristic shy smile, he pulled a notebook out of his pocket and enlarged it. Hesitatingly, he passed it to Isabelle, who opened it and flipped through the pages.

"Wow," she said, surprised. "I didn't know you could compose music."

"Well, these are guitar tabs, mostly, but yeah. When I was really little, Regina wanted to take art lessons, but Mummy P wouldn't let her walk to the conservatory after school by herself. There was no way James would've been caught dead near an arts school, so she begged and begged for me to go with her."

"And you said yes, of course."

"Not at first," he laughed. "She finally convinced me that playing guitar wasn't sissy, so I went with her. Turns out I was pretty good at guitar, and music theory. When I was about fifteen, I started teaching on holidays and stuff because there wasn't anything else I could learn. I used to write songs in my spare time, and that's my notebook."

"I didn't know that."

"No one did." He gave her a crooked, self-effacing grin.

"Do you still write songs?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

Isabelle's eyes widened. This was a completely different side to Sirius than she had ever seen before. Speechless, she simply stared at him.

"I don't play anymore, because my guitar was blown up, and I'm a little partial to it. Abuela had it made for me when I was about ten."

"The one you played when Hermione had colic?"

He blushed. "You heard me? She's the only person I've ever played for, actually. And, mostly because it put her to sleep. Gave me time to practice, too."

"Why don't you play for other people?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Because my father said playing the guitar was an incredible waste of time." He sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "So, I hid it. Why do you think I encouraged your dancing? Doing what you're good at is never a waste of time."

"And I always loved you for it."

Sirius sat down on the bed, obviously gathering his thoughts together. "When I was in prison, that's how I stayed sane. You know how it is in there."

"I made up choreography," she admitted. "Some of my best stuff, actually."

"After the shock wore off, grief and depression set in. I couldn't believe out of everyone, only Harry survived. And, his being sent to Petunia was like a death sentence, at least to his self-esteem. I'm still not sure what Dumbledore was thinking."

"I tried to take both of them with me," Isabelle said quietly.

"I figured, but I didn't want to ask. Anyway, all of the pain, the bad memories, just overwhelms you after a while. I tried to fight it, but it's useless, especially with Dementors stationed outside my cell almost constantly. So, I'd concentrate on the memory, and try to compose a song about it. I'd focus on every word, every chord, until I was satisfied with the way the song sounded."

"Sounded?"

He smiled at the puzzled look on her face. "I can hear the music in my head. Don't ask."

"I won't. How many songs did you write over the years?"

"At least a hundred."

Isabelle whistled through her teeth. "Wow. Have you ever written any of them down? I bet they're good."

"No, I haven't, and I won't, either. I'd just like to forget about that part of my life," he replied flatly.

She could tell the subject was closed, so she started packing up the room quietly, leaving Sirius to his thoughts.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked indignantly.

"I'm getting rid of all your junk," she replied, while emptying a drawer into a large box.

"Junk? Ok, let's get this straight. You've thrown away my lava lamp, disco ball, and now Furry?"

"Furry?"

"My pet rock."

"A pet rock named Furry. Sirius, you have lost your mind."

"No, Furry was cool. I charmed it to grow fur, walk around and bark. Toddler amusement," he shrugged. "She'd crawl around on the floor chasing it. Kept the kid occupied for hours, without having to take care of an actual pet."

Isabelle had to work very hard to keep her smile hidden at the nostalgic look on his face. "Softie. Tell you what. How about you confine your seventies shrine to your office at school? That way, everyone's happy. You get to relive the glory days of disco, and I don't have to look at it."

"What about my favorite butterfly collar shirt?" he asked hopefully.

"Don't push it."

Sirius rolled his eyes as Isabelle sealed up the boxes, and sent them flying into the attic.

"Well, I guess that leaves the nursery," she said, looking away.

"Guess so."

They both paused in the doorway for a minute longer than truly necessary, mentally reminiscing.

"I'm thinking we won't have a use for these anytime soon," Sirius said, looking at the cribs.

"I don't know," she mused wistfully. "We might need them sooner than you think."

Isabelle watched his face redden with anger. "Do you know something that I don't? Because if you do, I swear I'll kill Krum. She's not even of legal age. That's it – I'll put him in prison, let him rot there for a while, then I'll kill him. Slowly."

"Alright, I've had enough of your temper for one day. First off, I think it's a bit rich of you to naturally assume that Hermione would do something thoughtless and stupid that would result in the necessity of a crib, and Harry wouldn't."

"Harry's half Lily, and half perfect Potter, which means he's predisposed to be good and virtuous and all that. On the other hand, Hermione's half Potter, true, but she's also half me. And I remember when I was fifteen years old, and that scares me, ok?"

Isabelle glared at him. "Secondly, I was merely referring to the sad fact that the kids are almost grown up, and will have children of their own sooner than either of us are ready for. And third, as for your darling daughter, Krum's not the one I'd be worried about."

"Yeah, I know about her and Ron."

"And?"

"And, I wasn't too happy about it."

"Glad to see you're as much of a hypocrite as ever. You'd be even less happy if you knew what Ron was thinking during Potions class most of the time. Has to do with the Christmas tree." She grinned evilly.

"That was way too much information." He paused. "I'm not a hypocrite."

"Are too."

"I am not," he protested.

"Are too."

Isabelle decided to twist the knife. He deserved it for all of the "do as I say, not as I do" lectures he preached at her growing up.

"Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight. Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's," she sang in her most seductive voice.

"That was completely uncalled for." The irate look on his face only encouraged her.

"Santa baby," she put her arms around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes, "and hurry down the chimney tonight."

"Do you have a Madonna song for every occasion?" Sirius asked, exasperated.

"Pretty much," she replied.

"Why am I not surprised?"

She grinned before letting go of him. After running a finger across the top of the crib's railing for a minute, she turned to Sirius with a heartbroken look on her face. Concerned, he walked over to where she stood.

"What's the matter?"

"Just thinking about Kate, that's all," she answered sadly.

"Kate?"

Isabelle nodded. "I stopped dancing when I was pregnant with her, but kept teaching. Well, one day I was trying to help a student with her sloppy posture. Her name was Kate, and every time I said her name, the baby moved and kicked at me. I'm guessing she liked the name."

"How'd you get Katrina out of that?" Sirius wondered out loud.

"Well, I was going to just name her Kate, but Sergei didn't like that very much. Said it wasn't formal enough. So, I decided to name her Catriona, which is the Gaelic version of Catherine, my mum's name. When I had her, I kept telling the nurses her name was Catriona, but they thought I was overmedicated and delusional. Which is how Catriona became Katrina."

"Don't you just love it when other people change your kid's name?" he said sarcastically.

"Um, it's her first name," Isabelle reminded him.

"I told Regina it sounded dumb the whole time she was pregnant, so we reached a nice compromise. Leave it to Snape to mess that up."

"Dumb? Tell me how you really feel about it," she teased. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a cheerful moment."

He gave her a huge, goofy smile that made her laugh. "Sorry. These old memories bring out the worst in me, I think."

"Me, too. Ok, since I can safely say that both of us are definitely past our baby days, let's clear this room out," Isabelle said decisively. "So we can move on to other things."

"I like the sound of that."

"I thought you would."

Author's Lament: Furry was such a good rock, sigh. He was my faithful companion throughout the 7th grade until he was cruelly & brutally thrown out of a 2nd story window in history class. It's a wonder I was able to recover from the shock to become a history major later in life. He was so kind, always holding down my papers so the wind wouldn't blow them about. (Non-air conditioned rural middle school, ugh!)

So to honor my pet rock's memory, I decided to revive him in fictional form 10 years later (now 12). Like in real life, Furry's a small, shiny black rock. Yes, I named him for the irony. Why did I want a pet rock in the 7th grade? I have no idea. Maybe because my parents were children of the 70's, or maybe the early 90's were boring, or maybe I'm just weird.