Chapter 26

Isabelle wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and began to turn the handle of the bathroom door. Midway through opening the door, a sob caught in her throat. She quickly shut the door and slid to the floor, resting her head on her knees. After a minute, she rolled over and laid on the bathroom rug, curled up in fetal position.

Never in her entire life had she felt so helpless and vulnerable. To the outside world, she had the perfect smile, the clever wit that endeared her to everyone she met. But, in the few private moments she allowed herself, she quickly dissolved into mind-wrenching self-doubt and a seemingly endless stream of tears.

Get yourself together, she told herself forcefully, making a mental note not to be alone for the next few days. Because then, she had to fight the urge to run to Sirius, and beg for him to forgive her for whatever nameless sin she didn't commit. Sometimes, she felt like admitting to anything, everything, whatever it took for him to want her again.

Especially today. A wave of nausea overtook her, making her sit up quickly and crawl to the toilet. After getting sick for the third time that morning alone, she leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain of the bathtub. She didn't know if it was the stress of teaching, breaking up with Sirius, or battling her divorce with Sergei that was causing her to be so sick. A loud knock sounded at the door.

"Be out in a minute," she called out in a carefree, cheery voice.

"Ok," Harry hollered back. "Is it ok if all of us head out to the Quiddich match?"

"Only if Bill is with y'all. The kids are a handful."

"He is. See you later."

Isabelle smiled, listening to footsteps thundering down the stairs. She chastised herself for being so down earlier. After all, she had her family back, which was a miracle in itself. And great friends who were always there for her. Life really is good, she decided.

Feeling much better, she stood up slowly. Suddenly, the room started to spin slowly, making her stomach incredibly queasy. She shut her eyes tightly and grasped the wall for support. As she opened her eyes, the room filled with tiny black dots. In a panic, she reached out for something to steady her, grabbing the window curtain. The curtain rod split in two as Isabelle blacked out, hitting the floor with a soft thud, the billowing window sheer covering her like a blanket.

-----

Harry glanced over at Hermione as the stands began to fill with spectators. Their eyes met, and they had to fight to keep from laughing. If everything went according to plan, today would go down as the most insane Quiddich game in Hogwarts history.

And, hopefully that chapter in Hogwarts: A History won't include us getting expelled, Hermione thought, crossing her fingers.

"How long before the match starts?" she whispered.

"About twenty minutes," Harry whispered back. "Is Aunt Isabelle here yet? I don't want her to miss this."

They peered over the side of the tall stands, scouring the milling crowd furtively. After a minute, they both sat back down, puzzled.

"Stephen, do you see Isabelle anywhere?" Hermione asked the little boy. He looked down, shaking his head.

"Nope," he replied. "But, I see Bill talking to Virginia."

"Where?" Harry bolted out of his seat, looking for her.

"Calm down, lover boy," Hermione teased, pulling him back down. "I'm sure they're coming up here."

He shot her a look, but bit his tongue because he didn't want to offend young ears. Sure enough, Bill and Ginny joined them in the stands a minute later.

Hermione sighed as she watched Harry and Ginny greet each other out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't help but think about Ron, and wonder how the trial was going. If the docket was running on time, Phillip should be giving his oral argument right about now.

I wish Ron were here, she thought wistfully. Even though we haven't spoken in a week and a half.

"Hey, Remus," she heard Bill say, which snapped her out of her daydream.

"Have you seen Isabelle? She was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago, but didn't show," he asked with a worried look. Isabelle was always punctual; you could set a clock by her.

"She's back at the flat getting ready," Harry replied, not taking his eyes off the field, where the players were beginning to walk onto the pitch.

"Thanks," Remus said, thinking. "Maybe I'll check there."

Concerned, he quickly walked down the winding staircase of the stands. He stormed through the faculty grounds and into town, his worry growing by the second. Instinct told him something was terribly wrong. After knocking at the door several times, he broke into the house, calling out her name with no answer.

He made a wide, general search of the first floor, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Most importantly, he saw no signs of Isabelle. He climbed upstairs, moving from room to room, nearly in a panic. Right before walking downstairs again, he saw a small sliver of light peeking from underneath the closed bathroom door.

Throwing caution to the wind, he broke down the door. Isabelle lay on the floor, unconscious, in a crumpled heap. He knelt beside her, turning her face towards him. Brushing her hair out of her face, he tried to revive her. It took a minute, but she finally opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus them on his fuzzy form.

"Remus?" she said, through an incredibly dry mouth. "Wha-what's going on?"

"You took a nasty fall, I think. Do you remember anything that happened?" he replied, helping her to sit up. She rested her head on her knees.

"Sort of. The last thing I remember is standing up, and everything when black," she slurred.

Remus checked her eyes for a concussion. "Why were you on the floor in the first place?"

"I was sick."

"Nerves?" he asked sympathetically. She nodded.

"It hit me a few days ago. I hope that it's nerves and not the flu. I'm just starting to get over this cold."

As if to prove her point, Isabelle erupted into a loud, lengthy sneezing fit. Remus passed her the box of tissues.

"Thanks," she said. "Oh, I feel rotten. What time is it, anyway?"

"Just about noon."

"Noon! I need to hurry up. The Quiddich match is supposed to start any minute," she said in a rush.

Isabelle jumped to her feet. She took a couple of steps, then lurched dizzily. Luckily, Remus caught her before she fell again.

"Sorry," she slurred, unable to walk any further. He easily picked her up and carried her to the guest bedroom where she was staying, amazed at how light she was.

"Isabelle, when was the last time you ate anything?" he inquired, gently putting her down on the bed. She smiled thankfully.

"Ate anything? This morning at breakfast. When was the last time I kept anything down? Oh, Wednesday, I guess."

"What?" he asked, angry at her for being sick so long and not saying or doing anything about it. And, angry with himself for not noticing how bad off she really was.

"I'm not that bad, really. Ouch, my back just cramped up," she winced. "Dancer's injury acting up, I guess."

Remus raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Something wasn't adding up, and he had a theory about Isabelle's mystery illness. "Why don't I get you a glass of tea? I'll be right back, ok?"

She nodded, and leaned back into the soft, cool pillows until he returned with a steaming mug of tea. Grateful, she sipped the strong brew.

"This is fantastic," she enthused. "Is it Irish Breakfast tea?"

"Yup, I know it's your favorite. I added a lot of lemon and honey to help your throat. You sound a little scratchy," he said carefully, watching her down the cup quickly.

"Wow, you are so attentive. No wonder you're such a ladies' man," she winked.

"What can I say? It's a gift," he joked.

Remus smiled internally, watching Isabelle visibly perk up by the minute. He couldn't figure out why she didn't know what was wrong with her. Aren't women supposed to have some sixth sense about these things? he wondered.

"Why are you looking at me so funny?" she asked, smiling as if nothing bothered her.

"Feeling better?"

"One hundred percent," Isabelle answered, narrowing her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I slipped a prescription-strength potion in your tea," he said matter-of-factly. Breaking the news gently was the best way, he decided, bracing himself for the storm.

"Oh? What was it for, so that I can keep taking it?" she laughed.

"Morning sickness."

Isabelle snorted. "Remus, stop joking around. Come on, tell me what this is for."

"I told you. Morning sickness."

"I don't understand." She looked genuinely puzzled.

Remus smiled and shook his head slightly. Isabelle may be a genius, but she's awfully thick sometimes, he thought. He put his hand on top of hers, and took a deep breath.

"You're pregnant, Isabelle," he said kindly. A spurt of hysterical laughter burst from her lips.

"That's not possible," she said, wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Can you sit there and honestly tell me there's no chance that I'm right?"

Her face turned a deep pink as she shook her head yes. "It's not medically possible. The doctors said that, and tried to explain in their doctor talk all of the details. All I heard was that I lost my only child, and have no hope of having any more. So, please don't kid around with me, Remus. You know how much I wanted children. It's cruel, especially now, since--"

"Since what?" he asked softly.

"Since we both know whom the baby would belong to," she whispered in a barely audible voice. She covered her head with her hands, desperately trying not to burst into tears. "Besides, that couldn't be it. I knew I was pregnant with Kate from day one. And, I never had any morning sickness or trouble at all with her."

"Each child is different," he reminded her. "Will you humor me and let me call a doctor?"

She nodded. If nothing else, it would shut him up. "Then can we go to the Quiddich match already?"

"Deal."

He headed downstairs, penned a quick note, and gave it to Saskia to take to St. Mungo's. Ten minutes later, he heard a sharp rap at the door. He let the doctor in, briefly explained the situation, and led her upstairs to where Isabelle was impatiently waiting.

She thought Remus was clearly overreacting, but greeted Dr. Richardson warmly anyway. Satisfied that Isabelle would be cooperative, he quietly closed the door and paced the hallway, waiting for the doctor to finish her examination. It seemed like forever until the doctor poked her head outside the door.

"You can come in," she said cheerfully.

He nervously walked back into the guest room, where Isabelle sat on the bed with mixed look of amazement and sadness on her face. She gave Remus an embarrassed smile.

"Well, turns out those heightened werewolf senses of yours were right," she said quietly and somewhat shyly. "How would you feel about having another godchild?"

Remus just smiled and nodded. Although he never really wanted a family of his own, he always enjoyed playing with his friends' children. And, Isabelle was the apple of his eye. Her child, no matter who the father was, would automatically be a favorite of his. Dr. Richardson looked at them, confused, but she quickly averted her eyes to her clipboard.

"Well, Ms. Evans, I'm looking at your medical history. And, from what I see, this pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle. I'm not going to lie to you; this is and will be an extremely high-risk pregnancy. But, I truly believe that you can carry this child to term. That is, if you want to keep the baby." She added the last part at the truly horrified look on Isabelle's face.

Her eyes widened. "Of course I want this baby. It's just a surprise, that's all."

"I can imagine." Dr. Richardson smiled sympathetically. "I need to ask you some personal questions so that my team at the hospital can best care for both of you. Is that alright with you?"

Isabelle nodded slowly. Her years with Phillip taught her many things, one of which was the physician-patient privilege. If she or any other doctor leaked information, Isabelle could and would sue the hospital for everything they were worth. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass the family.

Although she was nothing short of shocked, she wanted the baby worse than anything else in her life. So, she swallowed back her pride and answered the doctor's enormous list of questions about herself. Dr. Richardson smiled encouragingly, jotting down notes as she went.

"I think that's all I need to know about you," she finished up, flipping a page on her clipboard. "Now, onto the father's background."

"T-the father?" Isabelle stuttered.

"Well, it's perfectly alright if you're not certain of your baby's paternity. It just makes prenatal care a lot easier if we know of any genetic diseases or birth defects that the father's family might have," the doctor explained in a comforting voice.

No wonder she's the head of the department, Isabelle thought, liking the doctor more and more. Guess that's the benefit of being filthy stinking rich; you get the best. She smiled, wondering how the doctor and hospital staff would treat her after they discovered whose baby she was carrying.

"I understand, and there's no paternity issue," she said thankfully. "My baby's father is Sirius Black."

Dr. Richardson dropped her quill on the floor, her jaw opening in surprise. She shut it tightly and picked up the quill quickly, composing herself. Isabelle shot Remus an amused look. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh.

"I see," the doctor managed to say, gathering her thoughts.

Well, she thought, this changes everything. It was one thing to care for a famous dancer's child, but the rules became very different when the famous dancer's child belonged to the most notorious wizard in modern history. She was suddenly quite grateful that she handled the house call herself.

It was Isabelle's turn to put the doctor at ease. She grew up as part of a famous family, so it was all she knew. Consequently, she didn't understand why she or anyone else in her family would intimidate anyone. But, they did for some reason. She shrugged slightly.

"I know a fair amount about Sirius' family, but the best way to get that information is from the archives. The Black family's medical history is documented from the reign of Emperor Constantine to the present, and Abuela put together the other side of the family's medical history a few years ago. It goes back to Julius Caesar."

"As in two thousand years ago?" Dr. Richardson asked, dazed.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Isabelle laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Abuela is Doctor Mariana Delgado de Piedra. That's Sirius' maternal grandmother. You'll find the records listed under her name."

"Doctor Piedra? The pediatrician?"

"Yup."

The doctor raised an eyebrow as she made a notation on the chart, but didn't respond. "Does Mr. Black know about your child?"

"No. I do appreciate your discretion in this matter, and I'm sure you understand my decision to keep my pregnancy quiet," Isabelle said pointedly.

"Of course."

Everyone knows about her court issues with her ex-husband, Dr. Richardson thought, wondering how the baby could complicate things. She gathered her medical bag together, and pulled out her appointment calendar.

"Well, that's all for now," she said brightly. "I need to see you in a week. How's next Saturday at two o'clock?"

"That's fine," Isabelle answered.

"Just send an owl sometime during the week so that I know where to come. It was nice meeting you Ms. Evans, and please contact me immediately if you have any questions or problems."

"I will. Thank you," she said right before Dr. Richardson disapperated.

She looked at Remus, and dissolved completely. He crossed the room, and hugged her tightly, letting her cry against his shoulder. After a few minutes, she gathered herself together enough to attempt to speak.

"Thank you," she sniffled.

"For what?" he asked lightly.

"For everything. For having the nerve to tell me what I didn't want to hear, and making me face the reality of my life. Most of all, for being such an amazing friend."

"Not a problem." Remus rested his chin on the top of her head and smoothed her rumpled hair. She could go from perfectly composed to a total mess in no time flat, he thought amusedly.

"Oh, what am I going to do?" she wailed.

"You're going to have a baby," he answered with a laugh.

"No, about everything else? For starters, there are two teenage children who expect me to be at the Quiddich match, which I'm not. And, then there's Stephen and Abbie, who need to be taken care of. Meanwhile, I'm here with a horrid case of morning sickness. Which is because I-I thought what Sirius and I had was special. I thought I meant something to him, but obviously I didn't," she concluded miserably.

"You mean everything to him," Remus said honestly. "He just doesn't know how to show it."

She shut her eyes tightly, trying to get herself together. "It's not about Sirius or I anymore. It's about what's best for our baby, and right now, I'm not quite sure what that is."

"Ok, what would be the best possible scenario?" Remus asked.

Isabelle sighed, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "The best thing would be for Sirius to realize that I'd never, ever run around on him. Why would I? He's the only man I've ever wanted. And after he reaches that epiphany, to apologize profusely for shattering my heart and self-image. But, that's living in a fantasy world."

"Why?"

"Because we both know Sirius is too stubborn to realize he's wrong, and too prideful to admit it."

Remus didn't know what to say, mostly because he knew Isabelle was completely right. She understood Sirius better than anyone else. "Why do you think he lashed out at you like that?"

"Many reasons, none of which justify his actions." She unconsciously put a hand over her stomach. "And, I refuse to expose my child to that."

"What's that?" He was puzzled.

"For starters, I'm not going to let our child watch Sirius drown his problems with alcohol. Nor am I going to expose my baby to his womanizing. If he wants to self-destruct and turn into his father, fine. I won't stop him, or say anything about it. But, I won't let him damage his child's psyche like he was messed up."

"What womanizing?" Remus wouldn't meet her eyes. She laughed wryly.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Please. I know he was out with some redhead last night, and that he didn't come home last night."

"Er, how?"

"I saw him with her through the bathroom window. The rest was woman's intuition. And, you just confirmed my suspicions."

Remus started laughing. Isabelle gave him an incredibly hurt look.

"I don't think it's funny," she said, teary-eyed.

"I do. You and Sirius are cut out of the same mold, I swear. Neither of you is willing to give the other the benefit of the doubt."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not running around, and neither is he. Nor is he turning into his father, for crying out loud. I think we need to have a talk," Remus said, putting his arm around Isabelle.

"Ok," she said, blowing her nose loudly. "About what?"

"About what's really going on between you and Sirius."

"Nothing. End of story."

"Not quite. Obviously something went on, or there wouldn't be a baby," Remus pointed out. Isabelle's face turned deep scarlet.

"That's a little personal," she whispered embarrassingly. "Besides I already told you that I did what I did because I thought we had something special. And, that I was incredibly wrong."

"Why were you wrong?" he asked. Her face was practically on fire.

"You know why."

Remus looked at her, puzzled. "No, I have absolutely no clue."

"Yes, you do. Even before Sirius and I had that fight," she shuddered at the memory, "I overheard him talking to you that morning. About how I meant nothing to him and that he's in love with someone else."

"He wasn't talking about you."

"He wasn't?" Isabelle smiled hopefully in spite of herself.

"No. Sirius went by Sara's jewelry shop, she asked him to dinner, and he went," Remus explained.

"So, he was talking about Sara?"

"Yes, and you. He's in love with you, trust me."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wait a second, here." Something occurred to Isabelle. "Why was Sirius in a jewelry shop in the first place?"

"I have no idea," Remus lied. She raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the issue further. Partially because she didn't know if she really wanted to know the answer to her question.

"Do you have a clue why he would randomly accuse me of running around on him?" she changed the subject.

"Yeah, because he saw you here, dancing with Phillip, when you were supposed to be in London with Bill."

Surprised, all she could do was shake her head and laugh. "Well, that's true. But, I suppose he didn't see Bill, Harry and Ron in the background, huh?"

"Guess not. I think you and Sirius are the reigning monarchs of miscommunication."

"No doubt. Phillip and I were demonstrating country dancing for, oh, thirty seconds. Maybe I should've told Sirius that I was going to Hogsmeade instead of staying in London. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Either way, I was going to be home at the same time. Apparently it was a big deal to him," she finished quietly. "Well, he is ancient."

"Watch it," Remus said in mock indignation. "You have to admit that there's a big geographical difference between London, England and Hogsmeade, Scotland. And, wouldn't you be a little nervous if Sirius was always hanging around his ex-girlfriends?"

"No, because that's pretty much the female population of the wizarding world between the ages of thirty-seven and forty-three," she interrupted, making a face.

"Be that as it may, can you see his point?"

"Yes and no. I understand the way Sirius' conspiracy theory mind works. But, he could've confronted me in a reasonable, adult manner instead of jumping to conclusions and blowing his top. I don't have any patience for his temper, mostly because I know he can be very calm and reasonable when he chooses to. If not, I wouldn't have lived past the age of fifteen."

"So true," Remus laughed. "You were a handful and a half. I don't know if I want to imagine what a combination of you and Sirius would be like."

"Well, I do know for sure that this baby will have a horrid temper, terrible stubborn streak, and be very loyal. And will be brilliant and incredibly good looking, of course."

"Of course. You are going to tell Sirius, right?"

Isabelle sighed. "With my luck, the baby will be a carbon copy of him, so there'd be no denying who it belongs to. Yes, I want to tell him, but he's such a loose cannon that I don't know what his reaction would be."

"He loves you. And, we both know he loves kids. So, I'm sure he'd be fine," he reassured her.

"That may be, but he still doesn't trust me. Lord only knows why he doesn't; especially after all I've done for him. Part of me wants to believe that everything will work out. Having a family with Sirius has been my dream for longer than I can remember. But, I can't marry a man who second-guesses everything I say or do. That's not setting a good example of a healthy relationship for our baby, and what's best for the baby comes before my dreams. Besides, who says that he'd marry me, anyway? He's never mentioned it before. So, I guess this whole line of thought is silly," she said somewhat sadly.

Remus bit his tongue. Isabelle is as thick as Sirius about what's right in front of her sometimes, he thought. They truly are a perfect match. Luckily, that got him off the hook for the jewelry store question.

"And what are the children going to think?" she continued. "This isn't exactly setting a good example for them, either."

"That's not true. You're dealing with the consequences of your actions. What's wrong with that?"

"Um, I'm having a baby and I'm not married."

"Isabelle, you're hopelessly old-fashioned." Remus rolled his eyes.

"So I have traditional values. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," he chuckled. "It's just funny, hearing that come from you, of all people. What's even funnier is that Sirius shares your opinions. Do either of you practice what you preach?"

"No, which is why I preach at the kids. I don't want them to make my mistakes," she said earnestly.

"Quick interruption – why do you think Sirius and I lectured you so much way back when? Not that it made a difference, but we wanted you to learn from our mistakes. Don't worry about what the kids will think. They're old enough to understand what's going on."

"Maybe they'll get the point and not follow my path," Isabelle hoped.

"Meanwhile, I really think you should tell Sirius about the baby. And sooner rather than later."

"Ok, but there's someone I need to tell first. Severus is not going to be very happy about this, to say the least, and I'd rather the news come from me."

Remus smiled, thinking about Snape's reaction to Isabelle telling him that she was pregnant with Sirius Black's child. He desperately wished that he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. What a priceless moment, he thought, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"What's that smile for?" Isabelle asked, knowing full well what he was thinking.

"For some reason, 'Papa Don't Preach' is suddenly stuck in my head. Wonder why?" he mused. She knocked him over the head with a pillow.

"You're horrible."

"Thank you," he smirked. "Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep. Papa don't--"

"I get the point," she laughed. Her face fell.

"What's the matter?"

"Sirius is right. I do have a Madonna song for every occasion." She burst into tears. "What do I do if he doesn't want me or the baby, Remus?"

"I'll beat him down."

"I'm serious," she pouted.

"So am I!" he protested. "Isabelle, everything will work out, I promise. Even if it involves me beating some sense into Sirius' thick skull."

"You're amazing, Remus," she said, wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. He smiled sheepishly.

"Nah," he objected.

"Yes, you are. Well, how am I going to explain not being at the Quiddich match to the kids?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll go back to the pitch and say that you're not feeling well, so you're resting for a little while. Sound good to you?" he asked.

"No, I'll tell them myself," Isabelle replied, standing up and walking to her overnight bag. "Just give me a couple of minutes, and I'll be ready to go."

"Meet you downstairs then," he said, leaving the room.

She met him at the door five minutes later, looking the picture of health. Remus couldn't believe the change in her since earlier that morning. Gone were the enormous dark circles under her eyes and the sickly pallor in her skin. He decided to tease her a bit, letting out a low wolf whistle.

"Wow, you're one hot mama," he joked, watching her face turn bright red.

"Thanks," she muttered, swatting at him as she walked outside.