Chapter 23

Isabelle sat at the kitchen table, looking through a stack of furniture catalogues. This house was her home, and she fully intended on updating and decorating it to her taste. She smiled. For years, ever since she was little, really, she enjoyed interior decorating.

Which is probably why I have so many properties, she decided. Each home has its own spirit, a character of sorts. She loved looking at each room, and figuring out how to make it unique, beautiful, and livable at the same time. And what could be a better project than redecorating her childhood home?

Humming, she jotted down ideas in a large notebook. Right now, she focused on the living room, mostly because it was empty and looked like a tomb. Eerie looking, she thought while wrinkling her nose. But, there was no way she was going to put the old decorations back up in the meantime. They were simply goofy looking.

"Find anything good yet?" Sirius asked, interrupting her train of thought.

"Uh-huh," she replied distractedly.

"Look, I was just thinking," he began somewhat nervously.

"That's a scary idea," she said without looking up.

"Cute. I was just wondering--"

"Yes?"

"About our relationship," he said in a rush.

This got Isabelle's attention. She looked across the table, curious about what he was going to say next.

"What about our relationship?" she asked slowly.

"Well, I mean, that is--"

"Sirius, you're stuttering."

"I know that."

"It's kind of cute. Not something you hear everyday." She smiled. "I'm glad you brought it up, because I wanted to talk to you about it anyway."

"Really?"

Sirius tried to be calm. After this week, he was absolutely certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And all he wanted to say, but couldn't for some reason, is that he loved her and wanted to marry her.

Those words sound so simple in my mind, he thought, frustrated. Why can't I just spit it out?

"Well, you know I have a trial in a week."

He frowned, puzzled. What did this have to do with anything? "Yeah. So?"

"So, I think we should keep a low profile for a while."

"What?" His voice echoed throughout the house.

Isabelle bit her lip, which Sirius always thought was incredibly cute. "Sergei's already mad enough at me as it is. If he got word that we were together, I'm afraid that he might come after you. Or worse, the children."

"But, how would the trial affect anything? If you win, then what? He'll still be mad."

"And if I lose, then he'll nail me for adultery. Which would not only be true, it would be a huge amount of negative press for the family."

"We attract negative press as it is. I fail to see your point, Isabelle. What I understand is that it's all fine and good to shack up with me in one of the most secure locations in the world. But, the second we go back to our normal lives, I turn into some dirty little secret."

"It's not like that."

"Then, what is it like?" he thundered.

"I love you, Sirius," she said sincerely. "I really do, and I see where you're coming from. Trust me, I know I look pretty bad right now. But, you're never met Sergei, and I don't think you're anywhere near an expert on his behavior or reactions to situations. Four months ago, he went on a killing spree, murdering people just because they knew me. Do you think I want that to happen to you, or anyone else that I love? Sure, maybe I'm being overcautious, but I'd rather be a little overprotective than lose you. Shoot, I've spent my whole life wanting you. I'm not going to lose you now, just like everyone else I've ever loved."

He suddenly felt very stupid for yelling at her. "I'm sorry, Belle. I should've looked at it from your point of view."

"That's ok."

"No, it's not. If you want to keep a low profile, that's fine with me," he lied. "I wanted to talk to the kids about us anyway."

"Can you imagine the look on their faces?" she laughed.

"Hopefully they'll be ok with it. So, are you coming to the Grangers' with me, or do you have another convenient excuse to avoid the boredom?"

"Another convenient excuse. I made dinner plans for tomorrow night with Bill last week, and I can't stand up an old friend, can I?"

"That is so unfair."

"Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it, the better off you'll be," Isabelle rattled off.

Sirius gave her a dirty look. For some reason, the idea of her sharing an evening with Bill Weasley didn't settle well in his mind. However, in the interest of preventing another fight, he swallowed his concerns.

"What's that look for?" she laughed. "If you don't want to go to the Grangers' house, then don't."

"But--"

"But, nothing. Just don't go; I'm sure it won't hurt anyone's feelings if you got some urgent business or something." She shrugged.

"And what urgent business could that be?"

"Protecting your sanity? I don't know, Sirius. You exasperate me sometimes."

"Likewise. So, are you joining me on this urgent business?"

"I wish I could, but I'm not going to get back home until the day after tomorrow. I'm staying overnight in London, and then I'm hoping Bill will come to Hogsmeade with me for a while. I want to introduce him to Phillip; I really think they'll get along well."

Wonderful, Sirius thought sarcastically. Just great.

"You'll be home Sunday afternoon, then?" he asked evenly.

"I think so. Hey, you're not jealous, are you?" She narrowed her eyes.

Of course I am, he thought. You've given me every reason to be. First, you don't want to be seen in public with me, or let it be known that we're romantically involved. Then, you parade around with practically every guy you've ever snogged. Or worse.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?" he replied.

"No reason."

-----

Isabelle practically skipped through Diagon Alley on her way to meet Bill outside of the main building of Gringotts' bank. When she spotted her friend waiting at the bottom of the stairs, she grinned from ear to ear.

"Wow," he whistled. "Looking good, Dungeon Girl. Seems like the holidays did you a world of good."

She simply nodded, giving him a coy smile. "They did."

"What's that look for?"

"Oh, Bill, you'll never guess in a million years," she gushed.

"Uh-oh. I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"You're such a worrywart. Come on, I'm absolutely starving."

"Since when do you have an actual appetite?" he asked, looking at her like she had sprouted another head.

"Since," she paused, "I don't know since when. But, I'm famished, so let's go already."

Isabelle took off through the busy street, with Bill following as closely as he could. After rejecting several restaurant choices, they decided on a tiny French café.

Bill studied her over the rim of his coffee cup; she was positively glowing. And that could only mean one thing, he thought suspiciously.

"So, did you manage to get over your lifelong crush?" he asked through narrowed eyes.

"In a manner of speaking," she replied, blushing a bit. "Please don't be mad at me, Bill. He followed me to Dover, and we--"

"I get the idea."

"Can't you be happy for me?"

"Isabelle, you're playing with fire. I've always told you that."

"And do you remember what I told you when you said that?"

"Yes. That you know that you're playing with fire, and that one day, you'll get burned. Probably very badly."

"But, I'm like a silly moth drawn to a flame. Just like me, the moth probably knows the fire will kill it. But, we go, just the same. Because right before we become nice and crispy, we feel pure happiness. And that one happy moment is worth all the rest."

Bill made a face. "How nice and philosophical."

"Thanks. Anytime."

"So, are you saying that you're about to become a crispy critter?"

"Basically." She sighed. "Especially when Severus finds out."

"Too bad I won't be there to witness the best fireworks display since that prank we pulled my fourth year."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," Isabelle began with her most winning smile.

"About what? No way am I going to be your personal bodyguard when Snape finds out that you shagged his mortal enemy."

"Nice choice of words."

"Anytime," he mimicked her.

"Anyway, you git, I'm not sure why right now, but I wanted you to come to Hogsmeade with me."

"And disturb your little love nest?"

"I cannot believe you just said that," Isabelle gasped.

"And I cannot believe you abandoned all of your common sense the second Sirius Black shows the least bit of interest in you. Was it worth all those years you spent pining away for him?"

"Bill!"

"What? It was a perfectly innocent question."

"Ha. And for your information, yes, it was. Happy now?" she huffed.

"Thrilled." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "But, yeah, I'll go with you to Hogsmeade."

Isabelle smiled happily. For the first time in her life, everyone she loved would be in the same place at the same time. It was like a little piece of heaven on earth.

"Oh, if you don't mind, could you keep the whole Sirius thing quiet? The kids don't know, and it would hurt my trial next week."

Bill put his head in his hands. "Things really don't change, do they?"

"Sorry," she apologized, diving into her dinner. "Wow, this is divine. I could eat five of these."

"You're scaring me."

"As Sirius would say, I'm just a scary person," she replied. Bill rolled his eyes.

"Hey, why don't we go to Hogsmeade now instead of spending the night here?" Isabelle asked excitedly.

"Isn't Ron staying with Phillip?"

"Yup. So's Harry. Come on – it'll be fun."

"You don't have to convince me. I've wanted to meet this Phillip guy for a long, long time. I'd love to trade stories." An evil grin spread across Bill's face.

"Oh, no," Isabelle moaned.

"Oh, yes. Let's go already."

Sighing, she Apperated in Hogsmeade's town square and led Bill to Phillip's large flat in the center of town. She knocked on the door and was greeted by a wound-up Stephen.

"Uncle Phillip! Aunt Isabelle's here with a strange man that's not Sirius," he hollered down the hallway.

"That strange man is my oldest brother Bill," Ron called out from the living room.

"Oh, sorry. Uncle Phillip! Aunt Isabelle's here with Ron's brother Bill," he corrected himself.

Trying their best not to burst into hysterical laughter, which would only encourage Stephen, they followed him into the living room.

"Hey, Harry," Isabelle greeted her nephew, ruffling his hair. "Did you have a good holiday?"

"Sure did," he replied. "Well, as good as it gets without Ginny."

Both Bill and Ron gave him a withering stare. Isabelle snickered, as Phillip walked into the living room carrying Abbie, who buried her head in his shoulder the second she saw Bill.

"Phillip, this is Ron's older brother Bill. My partner in crime when I was at Hogwarts," Isabelle said.

The two men studied each other for a minute, and broke into identical evil grins.

"Um, I think I'll be going home now," Isabelle said, trying to make a run for the door. Phillip caught one arm, and Bill got the other.

"But the party's just getting started," Phillip protested. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't offer my houseguests a drink?"

"And what kind of houseguest would I be if I didn't stay for a few rounds?" Bill replied innocently.

"Yeah, Barbie, cop a squat." Phillip picked her up and plopped her into a chair.

"Barbie?" Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Barbie, Gumby, pretzel, whatever." Phillip shrugged. Isabelle shot him a look that would melt the polar ice caps instantly.

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," she warned.

"No, I'd love to hear about Aunt Isabelle when she was at Hogwarts and in America," Harry said.

"If you're going to insist on humiliating me, please put certain individuals to bed first," she hissed in Phillip's ear.

"Can do," he said cheerfully. "Come on Stephen. It's time for bed."

"No fair. How come I don't get to stay up, too?" he whined.

"Because they're three times as old as you. You'll see them in the morning," his uncle said in a stern tone of voice.

"Fine." Stephen stomped up the stairs, followed by Phillip and Abbie.

"Why did Phillip call you Barbie?" Harry wanted to know. "It's a Muggle doll, right?"

"Right. It's my redneck name," she said disdainfully.

"Your what?" Bill hooted.

"My redneck name," she repeated, swatting at him. "When I first moved to America, Phillip and the rest of the group thought Isabelle wasn't country enough. So, they nicknamed me Barbie because I was tall and thin like the doll. And, I drove a Corvette that looked like the Barbie Corvette. Except mine was black, not pink, thank you very much."

"Minor details," Phillip said, walking back into the room.

"What's a Gumby?" Ron asked curiously.

"A green blob thing on a television show," Isabelle said, giving Phillip a mean look.

"Why would you call her a green blob thing?"

"Because Gumby could bend in all directions, just like your aunt," Phillip replied with a wicked smile.

"Too much information." Harry made a face.

"Really?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "That's why they called you pretzel, too?"

"Yes." Isabelle began to wish she were back in Dover with Sirius.

"Do it," Phillip egged her on.

"You won't shut up until I do, will you?"

He shook his head no, so Isabelle sighed and stood up. After stretching for a minute, she sat on the floor in a split. She raised her body off the ground, supporting her full weight with her hands. Slowly, she bent both legs behind her head so that she truly looked like a human pretzel.

"Wicked," Ron whistled through his teeth, clearly impressed. Harry jabbed him with his elbow.

"That's my aunt," he said, more than slightly annoyed.

"So? She's a hottie," Ron shrugged. "I don't want to hear a word from you, considering that you're with my baby sister."

"Fine, I won't tell you, then."

"Tell me what?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I don't care that you're my best mate, I swear I'll kill you if--"

"If what? I can promise you that I haven't done anything with your baby sister that you haven't done with my cousin," Harry said, smiling triumphantly as Ron's face reddened.

"You're dead, Potter."

"Likewise. Did you know Sirius knows about your Christmas fun?"

"What?" Ron hissed. He suddenly felt completely paralyzed.

"Yup. And since you don't want to hear a word from me, I won't tell you how he found out." Harry watched his mouth open and close like a fish. "Hey, Phillip, do you have a redneck name, too?"

"It's Phil. Totally boring," Isabelle said.

"And that time the two of you skipped History of Magic. Oh, and Valentine's Day," Harry whispered so that only Ron could hear.

"Does she tell you everything?" he asked in a daze.

"Sure does. In great detail."

Ron looked like he was going to be violently ill. Satisfied the he proved his point, Harry focused on Isabelle, who had a similar look on her face as Ron.

"Ok, how did you first meet her?" Bill asked Phillip. "No, wait. Let me guess. She was outside at night, looking at the stars."

"Yeah, how did you know that?" Phillip was amazed.

"Because she's always done that, ever since I first met her when she was eleven years old."

"She's fancied him that long?"

"Fancied who?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. This night was proving to be quite entertaining.

"Hmmm?" Isabelle said innocently. Phillip rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Barbie. Let's think about this intellectually. Anything you tell either Ron or I is automatically protected by the attorney-client privilege. And, Bill already knows about your lifelong crush."

"Which leaves Harry," she pointed out.

"Wait a minute. Ron's not a lawyer, so why is he under that attorney-client thing?" Bill asked, frowning.

"Not a lawyer yet," his brother replied somewhat huffily. "I'm a law clerk, so I handle sensitive, confidential information just like the lawyers do. So, I'm under the same ethical obligations."

"Already spurting out legalese. I feel sorry for your girlfriend during law school," Isabelle teased.

"Was it really that bad?" Phillip asked.

"Nah." She winked.

"Let's get back on point here. So, Aunt Isabelle, how long have you fancied Sirius?" Harry asked with a devilish grin. Her jaw dropped.

"You are your father's son," she breathed.

"That's not an answer."

"Harry James Potter, if you even think about telling anyone about this, I swear--"

"You swear what?" He stretched out his legs lazily. "Don't worry, I won't tell, even though you can't blackmail me. Like some people I know."

"That's comforting." Isabelle rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. This was turning into the longest night of her life.

"So, what are we going to hear about first – Aunt Isabelle at Hogwarts, or in America?" Harry inquired.

"Neither?" Isabelle offered hopefully.

"I vote for the Barbie years. All in favor?" Bill asked, raising his hand. Ron and Harry both quickly followed suit. "Majority rules. Take it away, Phillip."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Well, I remember the day when she and Bubba moved into the apartment complex."

"Bubba?" Harry interrupted. "Snape's redneck name is Bubba?"

Ron rolled around on the floor for a minute before regaining his composure. "You know about Snape?"

"Yeah. Let me guess – that attorney-client thingy," Harry said sarcastically.

"It was in the file." Ron gave Phillip a sheepish look. "Sorry."

"That's ok. Just don't go breaking ethical rules or calling Snape Bubba. I think he'd kill you," Phillip warned. "Anyway, they lived in the apartment across the hallway from me, Thomas and Jake."

"I can't get your family tree straight. It's worse than mine," Harry admitted.

"Ok. I'm the oldest of three. There's Thomas, Brittany, and me. Our best friends growing up were Jake and Sarah Lindsay Parker. Thomas married Sarah Lindsay, and Brittany unfortunately married Jake. Abbie's father is Thomas, and Stephen's mom is Brittany. Got it?"

"Good to go."

"So, we were throwing a party one weekend, and Barbie here sneaks over to see what's going on," Phillip continued.

"Um, talk about culture shock!" Isabelle exclaimed. "There were people everywhere in this dingy apartment listening to this bizarre junk they called music."

"Yeah, we made a redneck out of you, though," Phillip proclaimed proudly. "Soon you were sporting the accent and everything. Admit it—you like country music."

"Um, it was either like it or die," she said dramatically.

"What did y'all do for fun?" Ron asked.

"You said y'all!" Isabelle screeched hysterically. "You're getting sucked into the hillbilly vortex, too!"

"Well, used to go rootin'," Phillip said in a nostalgic tone of voice.

"What in the world?" Bill gave him a weird look.

"Ok, it's where a bunch of good old boys pile into their jacked-up trucks with really big mud tires on them. Usually a Toyota pick-up or a Chevy. Anyway, then they ride around and drive through mud." She made a face.

"What's the point?" Harry asked.

"The point is not to get stuck, or as Phillip calls it, 'temporarily detained'. One time, Thomas' friend Jeremy got his Yota stuck almost vertically in this huge pile of mud beside the river. Well, it sank two feet overnight and it took forever to get it out."

"Thrilling. Y'all are easily amused," Ron said, emphasizing the 'y'all'.

"Welcome to the redneck universe. When we weren't rootin', we hunted, fished and played pool," Phillip said. "Don't play with Isabelle, though. She cheats."

"I do not," she huffed.

"Prove it."

"You're on."

"Harry, you're about to witness your aunt, the biggest cheater on planet earth," Phillip said, taking a miniature pool table off a high shelf and placing it on the floor. He enlarged it along with several pool sticks, and passed them around the group.

"Well, there's five of us, so one of the teams has to have an extra person," Isabelle mused. "In the interest of fairness, I'll even let you pick first, Phillip."

"How generous. Have any of you played pool before?" They shook their heads no. "Great. I pick Ron. You can have Harry and Bill."

"Oooh, someone's confident in his skills, isn't he?" she teased.

"Maybe. How about some mood music?"

Suddenly, loud country music filled the room. Isabelle and Phillip laughed at the awful look on everyone else's face.

"What's wrong with Garth Brooks?" she asked innocently.

"People listen to this?" Harry asked, giving her a sour look.

"Lots of people," she insisted. He didn't look convinced.

After briefly explaining the rules of pool, the playing and betting began. Harry quickly realized what Phillip was talking about when Isabelle shot water at him from the end of her pool stick to break his concentration.

"Cheater," he mumbled while wiping off his face.

"It's not cheating. It's creative strategy."

Phillip grabbed her wrists and started dancing her around the pool table right as she took a shot. The pool cue bounced off the side of the table and landed on Ron's foot.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed.

"Cheater." Isabelle put her hands on her hips.

"What kind of dancing was that?" Harry asked.

"Country line-dancing. It's really popular back home," she replied. "There's fast and slow dancing like other types of dance, just with a little country twist."

"Was that a two-step?" Ron inquired.

"No, a two-step's the main slow dance step. Well, it can be fast or slow, but most guys can only do slow dances. This is what it looks like." She grabbed Phillip and danced in front of the window (the only available floor space) with him for a minute. "See? It's a really simple step. Now, let's get back to this game, especially since my team's kicking tail."

Unknown to Isabelle, Sirius passed by the window right when she started dancing with Phillip. He decided to plead "urgent business" and go back to Hogwarts a day early. Phillip's flat was on the route home, and he unconsciously looked up as he passed the flat.

Stunned, he watched a laughing Isabelle dance around the room with Phillip. Not only did they look far too cozy for his comfort level, she was supposed to be in London tonight. With Bill Weasley, who was nowhere to be seen.

What was she doing? he wondered, turning on his heel and walking away. He felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and knocked the wind out of his lungs.

-----

Isabelle yawned, stretched and headed towards the kitchen. She felt like a herd of rhinos had trampled on her head, followed closely by stampeding elephants. The clock sounded nine o'clock in the morning, its cheerful chime echoing in her head.

"Ow," she groaned, clutching her head.

Thundering footsteps reverberated through the hall and into the kitchen, announcing Stephen's presence in the room. That boy really needs an off switch, Isabelle thought wryly.

"Good morning," he said, plopping into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Morning yourself."

"Are you still going to teach me to dance?"

"I reckon. Although I think you're a little young for a steady girlfriend," Isabelle said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I broke up with her the other day," Stephen replied dismissively. "She wasn't really my type."

You're five years old, she thought as she shook her head. How can you have a type?

"Ok, why wasn't she your type?"

"Because she's blonde. I'm tired of being surrounded by blonde girls. I'm going to get married eventually and have kids, and I want dark-haired children."

"Um, why?"

He grinned. "Because I want to name a daughter after my sister M.J., and she had black hair."

Isabelle's throat tightened as she fought back tears. Despite being a holy terror, he really is a sweet little boy, she decided.

"But, that's a long ways away. Until then, I've decided to be a free agent like Ron."

"A what?"

"A free agent. No way I'm getting attached to some girl."

"You are your father reincarnated," she muttered underneath her breath. "I feel sorry for any girl who tries to trap you."

-----

"Hey, forget something?" Remus asked, frowning as Sirius walked into the living room. He stood for a minute thinking, and then smacked his forehead with his hand.

"Sorry, man. I got a little sidetracked." He smiled sheepishly.

"For a whole week? You could've owled me or something." His voice trailed off. "Wait a minute here. What's that smile for?"

"You know what for. I told you, I took a little side trip on the way home."

"Uh-huh. To where?"

"Dover."

"Alone?" Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius' wicked grin. "I take that as a no."

"Take it any way you want."

"So, did you manage to propose?"

"No, I wanted to talk to the kids about it first."

"'Fraidy cat. Using your own kid as an excuse."

"Shut up."

"You know I'm right."

"So? Isabelle wants to keep things quiet anyway because of her pathetic git of an ex-husband's lawsuit. The trial's next Saturday. Which means I have exactly a week to work up my nerve. I did go get the ring polished last night."

"At Sara's shop? That's some nerve of yours."

"Nah. She did ask me to dinner, though."

Isabelle quietly let herself in the kitchen door, and padded through the room. She opened the refrigerator, looking for some ginger ale. Last night's fun did a real number on her stomach.

"And you actually went with her?" she heard Remus ask, exasperated. "Look, I couldn't exactly say no. Besides, it's wasn't completely unpleasant. She means nothing to me; you know that."

"Yeah, well, what if she got the wrong idea?"

Sirius snorted. "I think I made it plainly clear that I'm in love with someone else, don't you?"

Isabelle stiffened, her fingers frozen around her glass of ginger ale. Heartbroken, she turned and ran out of the kitchen before she could hear another word.

How could I have been so stupid? she thought as her eyes stung with tears. I'm not second best, I'm nothing at all.

-----

Wiping her tears on her sleeve and pressing the wrinkles out of her dress with her hands, Isabelle took a deep breath and walked through the front door. She hoped to maintain whatever little dignity she had left, and simply go upstairs, take an extremely long bubble bath, and go to bed.

And talk to Remus about the conversation she overheard in the morning. It must be a misunderstanding, after all. Didn't Sirius say that I was his soul mate? she reminded herself, allowing herself a little smile. And all those days, and nights – they couldn't have been nothing, right? No one could possibly be that good of an actor.

Right? she thought, creeping up the staircase and opening her door. She turned on the light, and jumped.

"We need to talk," Sirius said in a forced tone.

"Not right now. I'm not in the mood," she replied tiredly.

"Wonder why?" The sarcasm practically dripped from his words.

"What are you talking about?" She was genuinely puzzled.

"Was your little game fun, Isabelle? Did you get some sort of rush from it?"

"What game?"

"Don't give me that sweet and innocent pile of crap. I don't want to hear it. I just want to know why me?"

Isabelle was on the verge of tears. What in the world was he saying, and why? "I don't understand."

"Well, let me refresh your memory. Last week, you, me, Dover."

"I remember that," she said, her voice becoming stronger. "I gave you all of me, Sirius. Unlike you."

"Please. This isn't about me; it's about you. No, actually, it's about every other guy you're shagging."

"I-I'm not with anyone else," she defended herself quietly.

"Ha. Isabelle, you leave me in Dover Saturday evening to have dinner with Bill Weasley. Then, why is it that I see you dancing with Phillip Spence in Hogsmeade, when you're supposed to be in London with Bill?"

"Be-because--"

"I'm not through yet. So, I'm thinking that I've completely overreacted and actually feel kind of stupid. Until I'm walking to my office and what do I see? You in the arms of Andrew Patil. Go ahead; deny it."

"It's not what you think," she protested, trying not to become hysterical.

"I'm not stupid, Isabelle. Let me see – Malfoy to get information on Lord Voldemort, Phillip Spence because he's your lawyer and you need him to battle your ex-husband and Andrew Patil because he's a Ministry spy. I'm not perfect, but at least I never used women to advance my own agendas. What's your agenda with me, huh? What do I have that you either want or need?" he mused.

"Nothing. Please stop," she begged.

"Not until I get the truth." He paused for a minute. "It's not money, or power. The children."

"What about them?"

"I have the children. So, if you're with me, you don't have to worry them being taken away from you? Is that it?" Sirius screamed.

"No," she sobbed. "I love you. Why can't you believe me?"

"You've changed over the years into this heartless, Machiavellian monster. I followed you to Dover, and you sensed my weakness. So, you make up this ridiculous story about being desperately in love with me ever since you were a young teenager. And I fell for it."

"It's true."

"Liar."

Isabelle couldn't hear any more. How dare he speak to her this way? She managed to stand up, and run out of the house into the pouring rain.

How ironic, she thought. The weather matches my mood.

She ran, and ran until her legs gave out right before she reached the lakeshore. Suddenly, she realized that she had nowhere to go. Home was where Sirius was, and she couldn't possibly go to Phillip's house. Bill was still there, and he would just say I told you so. Isabelle had never felt so hopelessly, desperately alone.