Author's Note: Here's the final chapter in Part V! I hope to start uploading Part VI, my twisted version of Book 6, shortly. Thank you so much for reading, & as per regular, reviews are good. Very good...

Chapter 32

Hermione quietly cracked open the door to the hospital wing. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see that Sirius was parked in a chair by Isabelle's bed, not Snape. Ever since the night of the argument nearly a month ago, she hadn't gone within a hundred feet of Professor Snape. She managed to get out of Potions class with the excuse that being where Viktor used to teach was still too difficult for her to handle.

Which was partially the truth. Her heart broke when his parents came to take his body back to Bulgaria for burial, especially since they were so sweet to her. She could hardly bear the guilt that he sacrificed his life for her, because she didn't deserve it in the slightest. In fact, if she hadn't been such a coward, and had broken up with him after Christmas, he would still be alive.

But, the real reason she avoided the Dungeons is that the sight of Professor Snape literally made her sick to her stomach. Sometimes when she sat studying alone in the library, his words flooded her mind. How he blamed her for her mother's death. That by itself was difficult to hear, but when she thought of him and her mother together in New York, her temper flared uncontrollably.

As she walked through the corridor, she silently thanked Professor Lupin for mediating between her father and Professor Snape. For the first week that Isabelle was in a coma, the two men constantly fought about who was going to keep her company. Finally, Professor Lupin offered a compromise, and arranged a schedule that appeased everyone.

Sirius was hastily scribbling in a notebook, and didn't hear her approaching footsteps. Lately, his nose was constantly buried in that notebook, but no one knew what he was doing. Once, Harry nicked it from the hospital wing and peeked inside. He said the pages were filled with unintelligible garble. Disappointed, he brought it back almost immediately.

Whatever it was, it kept her father occupied. The odd thing, in Hermione's point of view, is that he was using a mechanical pencil as his writing implement. Since when did Sirius Black use anything made by Muggles? He was nearly as bad as a Slytherin when it came to avoiding Muggle products. She shrugged, puzzled.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

Sirius' head popped out of his notebook. "Working on a little project. Why?"

"Just curious." She couldn't help herself. "What kind of project?"

"The kind that's not your business."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Fine. Be that way. Why are you using a mechanical pencil?"

"Why are you so full of questions?" he asked, exasperated. He passed her the notebook. "Here, this is what I'm doing."

"I don't get it. It's just a bunch of lines and squiggles and stuff. Is it some kind of magical spell to help Isabelle get out of the coma?"

"Nope. But, it is for her," he said mysteriously.

"Well, I hope she likes weird lines and squiggles. Are those words?" She squinted and peered at the page. "What language is that?"

"Spanish. It's my native language."

"Why?"

"Because of Abuela. This is starting to remind me of when you were little," he laughed. "Anything else?"

"Why are you writing in Spanish?"

"So nosy children who nick my notebook can't read what I'm writing."

"That wasn't me," Hermione said defensively.

"Tattle-tale," Sirius teased, taking back the notebook and pocketing it in his robes. "How are the O.W.L. tests going?"

"Great, since I'm exempt from the Transfiguration O.W.L. exam. Wanna know what people were saying about the exam you wrote?"

"Probably involved a lot of swearing."

"Yup. You're not very popular right now with the fifth-year crowd. All of the seventh-years are living in fear of your N.E.W.T. exam." She grinned evilly. "I'm so proud."

"Thanks," he said wryly.

"Anything new with Isabelle?"

"Same old, same old." Sirius sighed, suddenly looking very weary. "It's been a month today since…"

"Since you put me in therapy," she finished.

"You needed it," he said firmly.

"I'm not debating the point. But, do I really have to go--"

"Yes, you really have to go to the Grangers' for the summer. Everyone agrees that it's best for you to get a vacation from the wizarding world for a little while."

"Everyone but me," Hermione mumbled sourly.

"Life's not fair. The sooner you learn it--"

"The better off you'll be," she said in a singsong voice. "Fine, whatever."

Sirius fought the urge to laugh at the incredibly grumpy look on her face. Obviously, she was used to getting what she wanted with little opposition. For her part, Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him silently, until she finally realized that he wasn't going to cave in.

"Don't you have exams to grade or something?" she asked crossly.

"Trying to get rid of me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Uh-huh. Maybe I'd like to spend some time alone with Isabelle before he gets here."

"Well, I can't fault you there. Just come get me if she wakes up, ok?"

"Promise," she swore.

She watched Sirius gather up his things, and leave the hospital wing. Once she was certain that he was gone, she flopped down on the bed beside Isabelle and sat Indian-style.

"Hey, it's me again," Hermione began, holding her limp hand in hers. "I finally get you all to myself, and there's a lot that I have to say. So, hope you're not going anywhere for a while. Ok, that was a really lame joke."

All of a sudden, she got the eerie feeling that someone else was in the room, watching her. She slowly turned her head; shocked to see Draco Malfoy's piercing blue eyes bore into hers. He crossed his arms defensively.

"I have just as much right to be here as you do," he spat.

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. In the past few weeks, she devoted a lot of time to what Isabelle said about her daughter Kate. And, until this moment, she didn't believe it at all. But, here Draco was. Why else would he care unless Isabelle did have an affair with his father? She wanted answers, so she decided to swallow her pride and play nice.

"I didn't say anything. It's just that I haven't seen you visit Isabelle, that's all," Hermione said in her nicest voice. Clearly shaken, Draco stared at her, wondering what her hidden agenda was.

"That's because I try to come around when Professor Snape's watching her," he explained.

"Oh. You can come sit down if you like." She tried not to choke on the words.

"Ok," Draco said slowly, crossing the room and sitting down stiffly. "How is she?"

"The same."

He nodded curtly. "I'm glad she killed the bastard."

"Me, too," Hermione agreed.

"Ha, what do you know about what he used to do to her?" he seethed. She looked at him wide-eyed.

"Nothing. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Against his better judgment, Draco took a deep breath before venting. "Well, it's kind of a long story. The short version of it is that I spent many, many nights listening to Remizov pound the crap out of Isabelle. And, I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him, and Father refused to get involved, the coward."

"That must've been horrible," Hermione sympathized.

"You have no idea."

"I sort of do. He was pretty violent the day that--" her voice trailed off.

"Yeah, nice of my father not to warn her, or show up to defend her. So typical."

"What do you mean?"

Draco sighed, wondering whether or not to trust her. He'd never told a soul how he felt about any of this. Hermione sensed his hesitation, and tried to look as friendly and trustworthy as possible.

"Isabelle is the only mum that I've ever had," he said simply. "Before she showed up at Malfoy Manor, no one really paid attention to me. Sure, I had a ton of servants, and anything I wanted. But, it was pretty boring, to tell the truth."

"I'm an only child; I totally understand that. Why do you think I read so much?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Because you're a nerdy prat?" He grinned evilly. She gave him a withering stare.

"And to think I was actually being nice to you."

"Nice or not, you asked for that one. Anyway, when she was at the Manor, she made the place fun. She even made my father fun to be around."

"I so totally don't believe that one," Hermione snorted.

"Believe it. Once, she managed to talk him into taking me and Isabelle to Madame Taussaud's in London. Get this – Father not only went; he wore Muggle clothes."

"No way." She crossed her arms.

"I couldn't believe it, either. It's true, though. Go ahead and ask her when she wakes up. It was definitely the best day of my life," he said nostalgically. "Isabelle charmed the wax statues of the Beatles to dance around and sing. They gave a great show, and it was hilarious to watch the museum staff try to figure out what was going on. It was the first time that I've ever really seen my father laugh."

Hermione burst into giggles picturing the scene. "I can so see her doing that."

"Yeah, I was sort of hoping that--" He shut up abruptly, shocked at what he was about to say.

"That Isabelle and your father would stay together," she finished. Draco looked at her suspiciously.

"What do you mean by that?"

She sighed. "Before I ran out of the house that day, I overheard Isabelle say that her daughter Kate is your sister. Is that true?"

"Yeah. But, if you embarrass Isabelle and tell anyone, I promise that you'll live to regret it," he warned.

"I won't. She's my mum, too. I was just too thick to put two and two together."

"Huh?" Draco looked genuinely puzzled.

Now it was Hermione's turn to take a leap of faith and divulge a confidence. "Ever since I was little girl, I've had dreams about my 'real' family. I'd wake up and try to remember every little detail so that I would recognize them when they finally came to take me home."

"How little orphan Annie of you," he said snidely.

"Isn't it though?" she laughed. "I dreamt the most about this house in the country, with a really big yard. It was warm, so I guess it was summertime. Most of my dreams were about my mother and I. I only had a couple of dreams that had both of my parents in them, and one or two with just my father."

"Uh, your mother's dead," Draco pointed out.

"I'm getting to that part," she huffed. "Anyway, at least once a week, I'd dream about saying goodbye to my mother. She always told me that she loved me, and to be good for my new parents. And, that a bad wizard made my father go away."

"Now I know that you're a nutcase," he muttered.

"Cute. I always interpreted that dream to mean that a bad wizard killed my father. And that my and my mother's lives were in danger, so she put me with new parents until everything was safe. So, every day I'd hope that my real mother would come and take me home, even though my parents were great to me."

"This still doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, it gets even more confusing. All my life, I dreamt that I had a blonde mother and a dark-haired father. Which is how I got brown hair – kind of a cross between them. When I got my letter for Hogwarts, something clicked. Especially when I heard Harry's story about how Voldie killed his parents. I figured that he must've killed my father, too, so I started researching all of Voldemort's victims."

"Find anything?"

Draco was genuinely curious. It was rare that he had an actual conversation with someone. So, he was enjoying himself, even if it was Hermione that he was talking to.

"Nope. No killings of dark-haired wizards with blonde wives and small children. I was trying to come up with another theory when all hell broke loose last summer. That was when I learned that everything I thought about my family was totally wrong. I remember the first time that I saw a picture of my 'real' parents. The only thing that was going through my mind is that my mother's blonde, not dark-haired. My mother didn't even exist, and all those dreams weren't real."

"That sucks," Draco drawled.

"No joke. I thought I had totally lost my mind, especially when the dreams didn't stop. For some reason, maybe stress or something, I finally figured everything out the day of the attack."

"And?"

"And," Hermione made a face at him, "I'm not nuts after all. Hey – no comments from the peanut gallery!"

"You got that from Isabelle, didn't you?" He wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, Isabelle. Who just so happens to be the blonde-haired woman from my dreams, that weren't dreams at all. They were visions of the past. I asked Professor Lupin a couple of weeks ago if I called Isabelle 'Mummy', and he said that I did. Which explains that part. And the thing about the bad wizard and all really meant that Papa was rotting in Azkaban prison, not that he was dead. Although I've heard that Azkaban is like a living death, but that's not the point."

"So, that's your really long way of saying that both of us consider Isabelle our mother?" He raised an eyebrow as Hermione nodded. "Damn it. I have something in common with you?"

"'Fraid so. That, and we both treated her like crap."

Both teenagers sat in guilty silence for a few minutes. Draco stared down at his feet, which were propped up on the side of Isabelle's bed. He looked up at Hermione, who was tracing the pattern of the blanket with her index finger.

"I was jealous of you," he admitted in a barely audible voice.

"Of me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Isabelle abandoned me before third year. Granted, I know why she did it, and I don't blame her at all. My father wouldn't protect her from Remizov, and she had to leave them both to try and keep my sister safe. I just wished that she had taken me, too."

"Oh."

"Then, she suddenly shows back up as Potter's aunt. Which totally killed any hope of her and Father ever getting back together, for starters. Not to mention that she kept paying attention to you, attention that I wished that she paid me, and you just ignored her."

"I'm not proud of that," she said softly.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Draco scolded her harshly. "What did she ever do to you other than love you? You threw all of her love and kindness back in her face, and she just came back for more."

"I'm sorry." Her chin quivered.

"At least Potter treats her right, which is about the only good thing I can say about him. Black's not half bad, either. Better than Father, anyway. I just want her to be happy."

Hermione watched the expression on his face change with his last statement, and truly knew that he meant it. Maybe Draco wasn't so bad, after all. Her face pursed as if her brain had been flooded with a lethal poison.

"So do I," she agreed. "It would probably make her happy if we didn't fight all the time."

"Well, how about a truce, then? For Isabelle's sake," he quickly added, extending his hand.

"For Isabelle's sake," she repeated, shaking his hand in a business-like fashion.

With one handshake, the most unlikely friendship formed between two former enemies. Strangely, the more they talked, the more Hermione and Draco found that they had in common. After a few minutes, they pulled out their Potions notes, and had an impromptu review session for the next day's O.W.L. test. Seeing Isabelle lying there inspired them to do the best that they could, as a sort of penance for past wrongs against her.

-----

"…I guess she can stay here until the house is rebuilt. Is she strong enough to be moved?"

"Honestly, Mr. Black, I'm not sure. Until we're sure about what's going on with the baby, I don't want to risk it."

The baby? Isabelle's eyes flew open in a panic.

She blinked frantically, trying to bring them into focus. After a minute, the room lost enough of its fuzziness for her to realize that she was in the hospital wing. Sirius was deep in conversation with Dr. Richardson, and neither of them noticed her trying to get their attention. Frustrated, she tried to speak, but her mouth was completely dry.

"Siri--" she managed to rasp out.

Thinking he was imagining things, he glanced at the bed out of the corner of his eye, shocked to see Isabelle's huge green eyes staring at him. Without finishing his sentence, he rushed over and knelt beside her bed, taking her hand into his.

She didn't know whether it was whatever landed her in the hospital wing, or his huge crooked grin that instantly made a thousand butterflies start flying in her stomach and her head feel dizzy.

Or, perhaps it's the baby, she thought positively. How long have I been in this place, anyway?

"Hi," she croaked out.

"Hi, yourself," he said happily without taking his eyes off her for a second. "You gave us a real scare, Isabelle. How are you feeling?"

"Water," she replied in a gravelly voice. He immediately conjured up a huge glass of icy cold water, which felt like heaven to Isabelle's parched throat.

"W-why am I here?" she asked, closing her eyes to brace for the answer.

"Well," Sirius began quietly, "Remizov attacked you almost a month and a half ago."

She nodded. "I remember. How's Gracie?"

"In her words, other than the O.W.L. tests, she's doing great."

Typical Isabelle, he thought. Always looking out for other people before herself.

"Did you put her in therapy because of Viktor?" she said half-jokingly, having been on the receiving end of Sirius' number one parenting motto many times. When in doubt, find a therapist.

"Of course," he said, pretending to be offended. She knew him far too well.

"And Harry?"

"Worried sick about you, just like the rest of us."

Isabelle smiled. "Nice to be loved."

"Yeah, well, you are loved." His tone of voice and facial expression made her feel dizzy again.

Maybe things will turn out all right, she thought with a small smile. Suddenly, her face fell.

"What's wrong with the baby?" she asked tensely, looking at Dr. Richardson.

"Nothing so far," the doctor assured Isabelle. "All of the major organs seem to be developing fine. But, we're waiting for the results of tests and lab work to make sure that the fight you had with your husband didn't do any permanent damage to the baby."

"Husband?" She turned to Sirius.

"Your late husband," he said with a grin. "You did a real number on him, Belle."

Something finally occurred to her. "How did you find out about the baby?"

"Snape. He'll probably be here in a few minutes," he explained with a sour look on his face.

"So, you know about the baby?" she inquired, studying his face closely for his reaction.

"Yes."

"What do you think about it?"

"I think that we need to talk about a lot of things, including the baby. But, I do love you, Isabelle."

Dr. Richardson looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Ms. Evans, could you owl my office to set up an appointment after you see your family physician?"

"Sure," she said, eager to be alone with Sirius.

"I'll talk to you later, then." The doctor practically ran out of the hospital wing.

"Looks like we scared her off," Sirius laughed.

"Seems that way."

"Before I say anything else, thank you for saving Gracie's life. Again."

"No problem." She smiled, completely lost in his beautiful grey eyes. "Say, what's today?"

He blinked at the abrupt change in conversation. "Wednesday, June 26th. Two days before someone's birthday."

"Wonder who?" she said innocently, looking around the room and under the bed.

"Someone I'm desperately in love with," he said, taking her breath away. "Isabelle, when you were lying there, the only thing I could think of is how badly I've treated you. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Me, too," she agreed softly.

"And, it doesn't matter to me who the baby belongs to. All that matters is that I love you, and if you'll have me, I want to marry you. I want to be a family. You've always treated Gracie like she was your own, and I'll do the same for your child."

Isabelle stared at him in complete disbelief. "W-what? You want what?"

"To marry--"

"I got that part," she said, gathering strength. "I think you need to leave."

Sirius looked like someone had driven a stake through his heart. "Isabelle--"

"Don't Isabelle me. In fact, I don't want to hear another word from you. Leave. Leave!" Her scream echoed through the corridor.

Brokenhearted by the way she turned on him, he stood up and marched out of the hospital wing angrily. She heard him slam the door, and buried her head in a large fluffy pillow to muffle her sobs.

-----

Harry stormed through the castle, completely oblivious to the chattering students milling about the hallways. Ignoring the friendly waves and greetings, he stomped up the maze of moving staircases. He burst into Sirius' office without knocking, and glared at him with a look of pure rage.

"Can I help you with something?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Please explain why in the bloody hell you felt the urge to break my aunt's heart exactly five minutes after she wakes up from a month long coma!"

He blinked. "Not that it's your business, but she didn't seem particularly hurt in the slightest."

"Which goes to show just how little you know her in the first place," Harry snapped, slamming the office door behind him.

"Oh, and you do?" he challenged.

"Actually, yes. While you've been off being the asshole of the year, whom do you think that she's talked to? Give you a hint – it wasn't the tooth fairy."

That stung Sirius, who was used to being Isabelle's confidant through the years. And, he didn't especially enjoy being told off by Harry, who was being annoyingly like James at the moment.

"Fine," Sirius said sarcastically, crossing his arms. "Educate me then."

"Be glad to," he spat. "First off, I'm sick of you treating Isabelle like a second-class citizen to your precious Regina."

"What are you talking about?" he roared, finally angry.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory, but hey, you're notoriously thick. So, I guess I'll have to spell it out for you. For some reason, you've put my Aunt Regina on a pedestal where she can do no wrong. And in your opinion, Aunt Isabelle isn't even worthy to occupy the dirt that Aunt Regina's pedestal sits on."

"That's not true," Sirius said forcefully.

"It is true. Aunt Regina lied to you for years about being sick because she was afraid of what you'd say. She died rather than tell you the truth, and left the lovely job of cleaning up the mess my fifteen-year old Aunt Isabelle. Who, incidentally, has never lied about her mistakes."

Harry paused to make sure that he was listening. "She's not perfect; I know she's not. But, Aunt Isabelle has always owned up to the consequences of her actions, no matter what people might say about her. She's honest, and has always talked to Hermione and I about not repeating her mistakes."

"I don't need this right now," he said dismissively. His irate nephew walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar roughly.

"Oh, I think you do. Aunt Isabelle made you the man you are today, no one else. Her letter got you out of prison. She made a human being out of you. Not only that, but she put this family back together almost single-handedly."

"No, your saintly aunt tore everything apart."

"She is a saint; she's put up with your shit for years! I'm sick of your arrogant attitude towards her. You know nothing about her character. If you did, you'd know that she'd never cheat on you."

"Ha," he spat.

Harry took one look at the self-righteous look on his face and punched him with every bit of force he could muster. His fist connected with Sirius' jaw instantly, sending the unsuspecting older wizard tumbling to the ground.

"Stay the hell away from my aunt and the baby," he warned. "Congratulations, you have a son, not that you're going to claim either of them. They'll probably be better off for it. Have a good summer, uncle. I'm spending mine with my family."

Sirius clutched his jaw, stunned, as Harry left the office without giving him another look. He leaned his head against his desk, with Harry's words playing over and over in his mind.