Author's Note: Woo-hoo! I've finally getting around to uploading to the it turns out that accepts WordPerfect now! Super sweet. So, here's Part 6, finally. I'm keeping the rating at PG-13 for now. When it bumps up to R, I'll give fair warning. It definitely will go up to a solid R, with mature themes across the board. Hope y'all enjoy don't forget the Review button at the end of the page-Pamela
Chapter 1: Facing the Ghosts of the Past
"Aunt Isabelle! Aunt Isabelle!" a little voice shouted down the corridor of the hospital wing at Hogwarts.
"I think you have company," Harry said quietly to his aunt. She laughed as Stephen and Abbie flung themselves haphazardly on the bed and hugged her joyously.
"It's good to see y'all, too," she said, clutching the children tightly. "I've missed both of you so much."
"I missed you too, Aunt Isabelle. Guess what?" Abbie asked with her characteristic shy smile.
"What?"
"I learned all of my letters while you were sleeping," she replied proudly. Isabelle beamed at the four-year-old.
"Did you?"
"Yup. Bill helped me." She pointed a tiny finger at the tall redhead, who smiled self-effacingly and blushed a little.
"I think she fancies you," Isabelle teased, before turning her attention back to the children. "Hmmm. What's today's date?"
"Thursday the twenty-seventh," Stephen rattled off promptly.
"Exactly. Which means that I missed someone's birthday, didn't I? You've gotten a whole year older since I've seen you last." The little boy grinned, thrilled that she remembered, not that she would ever forget his or anyone else's birthday. "You've been six years old for thirteen whole days. Did you have a good birthday?"
"Did I ever," he answered enthusiastically. "We went deep sea fishing. It was so cool."
"Who's we?" she asked suspiciously.
Stephen ticked off the fishing party on his fingers. "Me, Uncle Phillip, Bill, Fred, George, Ron and Harry. Oh, and Charlie. He got the biggest fish out of everyone."
Isabelle looked at Harry incredulously. He just smiled and shrugged.
"What? Those Weasleys can fish," he said, trying not to burst out laughing.
"How were the boys able to leave school grounds for the day?" Isabelle inquired, giving Phillip a dirty look.
"Don't look at me. I'm not a professor here. I'm just a simple lawyer," he protested, throwing up his hands.
"Remind me to have a talk with Charlie the next time I see him," she muttered underneath her breath. "Did you get any cool presents?"
"Yeah! Uncle Phillip got me my very own broomstick, and I got a lot of Quiddich stuff. But, I can't remember who gave me what." He sat for a moment, trying to remember. Eventually he gave up. "Me, Ron and Harry have been practicing a lot."
"Looks like you've lost him to Quiddich," Isabelle joked, winking at Phillip.
"He'll take up soccer again. I have hope," he replied.
"Yeah, right," Harry scoffed. "The kid's a natural flyer. Football's a waste of talent."
"Exactly," Bill agreed.
"Soccer's a real sport," Phillip huffed, which started a rowdy argument. After a minute, Isabelle's head began to throb and she whistled loudly to shut them up.
"Enough!" she bellowed. Abbie covered her ears with a pillow, and everyone else looked at her dumb-founded.
"Both are real sports, ok? I've played both of them enough to know. And whatever Stephen wants to play is his choice," Isabelle said firmly. "Honestly, now I know why I needed a month-long break from y'all!"
Everyone burst out laughing at the exasperated look on her face. Abbie hesitantly put the pillow down and giggled with everyone else. Both Isabelle and Phillip worried about her adjustment to life without the rest of her family, especially since she was so introverted.
But, the little girl seemed to be fitting in just fine, which she demonstrated by smacking Stephen upside the head with the pillow. Suddenly, Isabelle found herself in the middle of an intense pillow fight that took several minutes to untangle.
"Would it be okay if I talked to your Uncle Phillip by himself for a little while?" she asked the children.
They nodded seriously. Harry and Bill bit back their questions, and took them outside to give her privacy for whatever it was that she wanted to discuss with Phillip.
"How are you really doing?" he asked. She smiled sadly.
"Been better, been worse." She squeezed Phillip's hand. "At least it's all over now. Sergei won't be bothering us anymore. I only wish that-"
"I know," he interrupted in a choked voice.
"I miss them so much. I can't help thinking that this is my entire fault." Isabelle wiped away tears.
"Don't say that, because it's not. No one blames you for anything that happened," he assured her.
"Thanks." She blew her nose loudly. "I needed to hear that. So, is it true that I'm a bona fide widow?"
He smiled. "You sure are. And the Ministry isn't going to pursue an investigation into Remizov's death, so no one can challenge your inheritance rights. I think they want to save face from the whole divorce trial scandal."
"So typical of the Ministry." Isabelle rolled her eyes.
"According to the Daily Prophet, you're now the richest woman in the world. Well, until Hermione turns eighteen. I think you rank fifth or sixth overall. Not bad for a country girl from Dover," he teased.
"Funny you mention Dover," she mused. "I plan to go home with Harry later this afternoon."
"Do what? Are you nuts! You were in a coma thirty-six hours ago. You're in no condition for cross-country travel."
"You know that I'm nuts, and I'm the judge of my health. I think that going home will be cathartic."
"Don't play with me, Isabelle," Phillip said sharply. "This is about Black, isn't it?"
"What does Sirius have to do with this?"
"You want to run off to Dover because you hope that he'll chase after you again and somehow you'll kiss and make up."
"That was low," she seethed. "I want to show Harry where Lily and I grew up. Where his parents got married, where he took his first steps – those things are important to an orphan. He needs to have some family memories that don't involve Petunia."
"I understand that. In fact, I'm planning to take the kids to Williamsburg for a while this summer myself. Don't want to make them too Scottish," he winked. "But, why now? Why can't you wait a couple of weeks until your health is back to normal?"
"I want to spend my birthday at home. I need to sort things out."
"Déjà vu. This argument sounds strangely familiar. Oh, yes, now I remember. You used the same lines last year, and what happened? You ended up here. Thanks a lot Severus," he mumbled underneath his breath.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you had finally come home. I had hoped that-" his voice trailed off.
"Phillip," she said gently. "As long as Sirius Black lives, my heart belongs to him. I've never pretended otherwise. And, it's not fair to ask you or anyone else to play second fiddle to him."
"Better second fiddle than not in the band at all."
"Where is this coming from? I thought that we sorted everything out."
"I did, too. Hey, I was even happy that Black fell for you. But, then I saw the way he's been treating you. That's what you left me for? Isabelle, tried my hardest to make you happy, and the most I got from you was the consolation prize. All he does is hurt you. I just want to know why," he said with hurt and frustration in his voice.
"Because I see something in him that you, and no one else, does. I remember the man he used to be before Azkaban got a hold of him."
"Hasn't it occurred to you that that man no longer exists? People change, Isabelle."
"He exists. I've seen the Sirius I remember here and there. Phillip, I'm the only person who's always believed in him. And, I'm not going to start doubting now."
"You can't build your life on pipe dreams!"
"Don't you think I know that? I'm a scientist, a logical thinker. But, at some point you just have to take a leap of faith and believe in a person's abilities, their potential. I have to believe."
"Why?" he challenged her.
For our baby's sake, she answered in her head. He deserves a real father, and I refuse to accept that Sirius would treat our son the way his father treated him.
But, she couldn't tell Phillip that, so she stared out of the window at the summer sky instead. "I just do. It's as much a part of me as breathing. Can't you understand that?"
"Yes, I do," he sighed.
"Don't worry about me," she said brightly. "Things will be alright. And if they're not, well, life will go on."
-
Lay a whisper on my pillow,
leave the winter on the ground.
Sirius opened one eye groggily, completely disoriented. Where was that noise coming from? he wondered sleepily.
I wake up lonely,
there's air of silence in the bedroomand all around
Touch me now, I close my eyes and dream away.
"Bloody alarm clock," he mumbled, stretching out an arm to hit the snooze button. Why did I want to wake up at nine o'clock in the morning again? he puzzled, as the song played progressively louder with time.
It must have been love but it's over now.
It must have been good but I lost it somehow.
It must have been love but it's over now.
From the moment we touched, 'til the time had run out.
Make-believing we're together that I'm sheltered by your heart.
But in and outside I've—
Smack! Sirius thumped the snooze button, and rolled over to get a few extra minutes of sleep. It didn't help that the WWN happened to be playing one of Isabelle favorite songs, which seemed to describe the current state of their relationship perfectly.
Just when I managed to get her out of my mind for a second or two, this comes on, he lamented. He yawned and pulled the cover over his head, nearly jumping out of bed when the alarm went off again.
All the world is a stage
And everyone has their part
But how was I to know which way the story'd go
How was I to know you'd break
You'd break my heart
The image of Isabelle puttering around the house singing and dancing flashed through his head. Hearing Madonna without her around was eerie, to say the least.
I've always been in love with you
I guess you've always known it's true
You took my love for granted, why oh whyT
he show is over, say good-bye
The song's damning words sliced straight to Sirius' heart. Unable to bear hearing another note, he picked up the alarm clock and hurtled it out of the window, listening to it splinter into pieces on the sidewalk below.
Sirius threw the covers back, and stormed through his temporary quarters to the kitchen, where Remus was hurriedly eating a bowl of porridge. He opened the cabinets and shut them loudly until he found the glasses. He thumped the glass on the counter and turned around.
"How long have you known?" he fumed. Remus calmly folded the Daily Prophet and placed it on the kitchen table.
"Known about what?"
"The baby," he replied, exasperated and furious. "How long have you known that Isabelle is pregnant – with my child!"
"Do you want answers or a punching bag?" Remus asked. He glared at his friend, thoroughly sick of Sirius' crap.
"Answers," he said quietly, checking his temper.
"Since the day of Isabelle's trial. I was there when she found out."
"Why didn't she say anything?"
Remus looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Because she knew that you would react exactly like you did – you denied that the child was yours, didn't you?"
"But I thought-"
"You thought wrong. Period."
"I really messed this one up," Sirius admitted, brokenhearted. "Here I am, with a second chance at everything, and what did I do? Ruined it. I'll be lucky if Isabelle lets me within twenty kilometers of her or the baby."
"No argument here," Remus agreed.
They sat quietly for a minute, until Sirius suddenly stood up from the table. The chair flew backwards, hitting the wall and falling on the floor at an awkward angle.
"Where is she?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
"Come on, Moony! Just tell me where she went," he pleaded.
"Why? So you can find her and hurt her again?" Remus challenged, crossing his arms.
"No, so I can beg – on my hands and knees if necessary – for her to give me another chance. I was wrong, and she may never forgive me, but I can't sit here and let her slip away."
"Dover. She's taking Harry to Dover, but they're stopping in London for lunch first."
"Thanks, mate." Sirius grabbed his cloak and rushed for the door.
"Hey, wait! Do you have a plan to win her back?" Remus called out.
"No, I'll think of something on the way," he said hurriedly, slamming the door.
"Great," Remus muttered under his breath, shaking his head. For Isabelle's sake, he truly hoped that Sirius would get things right this time.
-
"Ready to head home?" Harry asked Isabelle, who was enjoying walking the streets of her hometown of Dover.
"Just one more stop," she said distractedly, gazing across the street.
"But, you've already been on your feet for an hour," he protested. Isabelle turned around and gave him a reproachful look.
"I'm in better shape than you, young man. Besides, I can sit down where we're going."
Before Harry could argue any further, she began to cross the bustling city street and paused on the steps of a small Roman Catholic parish church. She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden paneled door.
The church was just as she remembered it from her childhood, except perhaps on a smaller scale. The pews and decorations seemed so much larger when she was younger. The rhythmic tapping of her shoes on the richly stained hardwood floor echoed throughout the room as she walked into the sanctuary.
"Uh, Aunt Isabelle, what are we doing here?"
She turned around and smiled at her nephew. "You asked me a question once – how can I be so hopelessly optimistic despite everything that's happened to me? And, I told you that I simply have faith in miracles. Did I ever tell you why?"
"No," he answered slowly.
"Well, throughout history, the Church has been a refuge for people. That's why the room's called a sanctuary. When I was a very little girl, coming to Mass was my sanctuary from my everyday life. Mum was a Christian, but Daddy wasn't, so he didn't come to Mass. So, that was one hour each week when I didn't have to worry about-" her voice broke off.
She paused for a minute to compose herself. "Anyway, after Mum died, things got really, really bad. Eventually Petunia stopped bringing me to Mass, so I never got out of the house at all. Every night I would sneak out of my room and go to my hiding place and pray for a new family. One day, I was about to give up and I snuck off to cry. I must've fallen asleep, and do you know what I saw when I woke up?"
"What?"
"Sirius." She dissolved into giggles. "In one of his moods, no less. I had just turned eight the day before, so that would've made him eighteen. Can you imagine what an impact the sight of him had on little, sheltered me? I didn't know whether he was an angel or the devil."
Isabelle winked at her nephew. "Still don't, come to think of it. I had never seen anything quite like him before in my life, not that I remembered, anyway. The only men I had spent any amount of time with were my father and Vernon Dursley. From the first word he said, I immediately knew that Sirius Black was the exact opposite of everything I thought a man was. And, that I would love him until the day I died."
"But, all he's done since then is let you down, Aunt Isabelle. Can't you see that? He ran off to Milan with Aunt Regina for years. Sure, he came back. But, then he abandoned you to die. Now, he got you pregnant and is too stubborn and thick to even think the baby's his. How can you stand there and say that you still love him, in spite of everything he's ever done to you?" Harry exclaimed, frustrated beyond reason. She smiled softly at him.
"Because that's what love is. I don't love him because of who he is and what he does; I love him in spite of who he is and what he does. True love isn't conditional, but it's awfully blind and forgives a whole heck of a lot. I'm going let you on in another secret, ok?"
"Ok." Harry wondered what new bombshell his aunt had for him. Knowing her, it could be anything.
"A Discerner has two weaknesses; in other words, there are two types of people we can't read. One is a person who is truly evil. Evil clouds our ability to Discern the truth, so we can't read a thing from a purely evil person. The second weakness is love."
"Love?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes, if we love someone with our whole heart, then we lose the ability to read them. That's where the old saying 'love is blind' comes from. Your mother couldn't read your father worth a flip." Isabelle began giggling again. "She used to storm into my room and say, 'Isabelle, would you please go downstairs and figure out where that brainless git is coming from? That is, if he does think, which I strongly doubt.'"
"You're kidding!" Harry desperately tried not to laugh; after all, they were in a church.
"I kid you not. I don't know how many times I had to referee between them. Your parents may have been the most even-tempered of the lot of us, but that's not saying much."
"Um, does this mean that you can't read Sirius?"
"Not since I was twelve years old," she admitted. "Lily stopped reading your father shortly after they started dating, which was when she was about your age, as a matter of fact."
"Oh." He looked crestfallen. Isabelle smiled sympathetically.
"You and Ginny just started dating; give it some time. Anyway, I just wanted to warn you of the limitations of our power."
"No big deal," he said, but his face clearly indicated the exact opposite. "Maybe we're not meant to be or something."
Isabelle walked down the aisle to Harry and put her arm around him comfortingly. "Enjoy being able to read her while you can. Trust me, there are times where I'd give anything to know what Sirius is thinking."
"Mostly naughty thoughts about you in a certain red outfit," he said with a mischievous grin.
"What red outfit?" she asked, turning bright red.
"I can't give details in a church," he whispered. "All I can say is that it has a matching feather boa."
"Harry James Potter, I don't want to hear another word," she warned, wanting to crawl underneath the floor and die of embarrassment.
"What?" His face was the picture of innocence. "You asked."
"You're awful. Must be the Potter side," Isabelle retorted. "Because you certainly didn't get that smart mouth from my side of the family."
"Keep telling yourself that, auntie."
"I will." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Anything."
Harry looked at Isabelle skeptically. "Did Sirius really bring you to Mass when you were little? Because he doesn't really seem like the religious type."
"Which is exactly why I brought you here. So you can get a different perspective on him, and on me, as well. And yes, he's devoutly religious. Well, he was before Azkaban." She smiled sadly and pointed to a pew. "That's where we sat every single Sunday. I always sat in between Lily and Sirius. Before I started singing during the service, that is."
"You sang during Mass?"
"Sure did. In fact, that's how I made extra money when I first went to America – as a paid soloist. It was a blast. Anyway, Sirius used to lecture me when I didn't want to go to church. He said that people need to have faith in something to have hope. Because if you don't have hope for the future, then there's no sense in living. He told me that he didn't care if I stayed a Catholic when I grew up, or if I became a tree-worshipper, as long as I truly believed in something. But, while he was in charge of my upbringing, I was going to go to Mass."
"That totally doesn't sound like Sirius," Harry said in disbelief.
"Which is the problem. He's lost faith in everything, including me." Isabelle's eyes clouded over. "Ready to go home? I sure could use some tea; how about you?"
With her trademark stubbornly optimistic smile, she led Harry outside and hailed a cab to take them to the estate gates. Neither of them noticed a tall, dark-haired man hesitantly walk up the church steps and push open the door.
As the cab sped away, Sirius Black stood in a church sanctuary for the first time in sixteen years. He badly needed advice, and he figured that a priest was as good of a place to start as any. Somehow, he needed to atone for the wrongs he had committed against Isabelle and the rest of his family. And, he was willing to do anything to make things right, if only he knew what that was.
-
"Lumos," Isabelle choked out as she shut the attic door behind her. She immediately performed a Freshening Charm to keep from gagging on the hot, stale air and climbed up the rickety stairs. She pointed her wand around the mounds of boxes until she found one labeled 'Stuff from Lily's Room'. There was an old picture that she wanted to show Harry, and she could've sworn that it was in that box. So, she sat down in an old rocking chair and began rummaging through the large cardboard box.
Humming 'Like a Prayer', she removed various odds and ends from Lily and James' old room, which placed her in an even more nostalgic mood than she was already in from bringing Harry to their old home. After arriving shortly before sunset and enjoying a leisurely tea, he talked her into resting before giving him a quick tour.
He was particularly interested in the various pictures that littered the living room bookshelves, which inspired her to find all of the old photographs that she possibly could. However, she wasn't having a bit of luck so far. Frustrated, she pushed the box aside and summoned another one to her.
Halfway through the box, she stopped suddenly and pulled out Lily's hairbrush. She turned it over in her hand and gingerly touched one of the long red hairs, only to retract her hand as if she'd been burned.
"Declino Avada Kedavra," Isabelle whispered softly, thinking about her sister's sacrifice all those years ago. Oh, how she wished that she were there to deflect Voldemort's curse, instead! That way, Harry would know first hand what an amazing mother he had.
"Oh, Lily! I wish you were here right now," she exclaimed.
Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the hairbrush to her heart. All of a sudden, the hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. She wasn't alone. Before she could turn around, she felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder.
"I am here, little sister," a voice whispered in her ear.
Isabelle gasped loudly and whipped her head around, wide-eyed. She blinked furiously, not believing the image in front of her. Cautiously, she reached out her hand and touched Lily's cheek. Her sister smiled at Isabelle's shocked face.
"Well, ask and ye shall receive," Lily joked, flashing her a disarming smile. Isabelle simply stared, dumbfounded.
"H-how i-is this possible?" she asked skeptically. "Did I fall asleep, or eat some spoiled food, or incant some weird spell, or-"
"You didn't do anything. Isabelle, you haven't changed a bit – you still want a rational, logical explanation for everything, don't you? Some things just defy reason, and me being here is one of those things."
Isabelle sat staring at her big sister looking down at her for a minute. Suddenly, she emitted a small yelp and flung herself into Lily's arms.
"Shhhh, hey, it's alright," Lily comforted her bawling sister.
"No, it's not. Everything's all wrong," came the muffled reply.
"Well, that's why I'm here. Do you want to talk about it?" Isabelle straightened up and looked at her as if she'd truly lost her mind. "Why don't we sit down then, and we'll have a nice long talk, ok?"
They settled on the floor, when Isabelle started sobbing loudly and threw herself at Lily again. "Why did you have to die? I miss you so much that I can't even stand it sometimes. Do you know how many times that I would've given anything just to hear your voice one more time, to tell you how much I love you?"
"I love you, too." Just like she did when Isabelle was younger, Lily just held her baby sister and let her cry out her frustrations and sorrow.
"Seriously, Lil, how are you here?" Isabelle pressed. Her sister just laughed.
"Don't you know that the dead never really leave for good? We check in on the people we love every now and then. Whenever you get an eerie feeling that you're not alone, especially on a special occasion, that's us. Sweetie, I watched you graduate as your high school valedictorian, and when you got your big break dancing at the Kennedy Center, for starters."
"Really?" she asked hopefully.
"Really. I just figured that you needed a little, er, direct intervention this time. Technically, it's breaking the rules, but you really need some help."
"Against what rules?" Isabelle puzzled. "Never mind, I don't want to waste time talking about silly things. And, yes, I really messed things up this time."
"How? What'd you do?"
"Sirius."
Lily began laughing again. "Finally had your way with him, did you?"
"W-what did you just say?" Isabelle was scandalized.
"Oh, come on! We're both grown women here. So, you and our dear Sirius had a wild, passionate love affair. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that we broke up. And, I, that is, I'm pregnant. Truthfully, I have no idea how," she admitted.
"Well, when two people love each other very much-" Lily began with a wicked gleam in her eye, trying to lighten up her sister, who was far too serious sometimes.
"I know that part!" Isabelle interrupted. "But, after my daughter Kate died, the doctors estimated my probability of having more children at about two percent."
Lily took Isabelle's hands in hers and squeezed them gently. "Which means that you and Sirius managed to create your very own miracle. Not an easy thing to do, especially since we are talking about Sirius Black here."
"So true." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not as if Sirius is even claiming this miracle child. He accused me of running around on him. Then, he 'forgives' me for my imaginary transgressions all of a sudden, and proposes! But get this – he just had to add an 'I don't care who the baby's father is' line. Ruined the moment."
"You know why he did that, don't you?"
"Because he thinks I'm a worthless whore. That's what he told me, anyway."
"That's what he told you. Do you really believe that he thinks that? Well, he doesn't," Lily answered before Isabelle could say a word.
"How do you know that?" she asked slowly.
"Because he's bloody transparent as ever. Wears his heart on his sleeve. And, the fact that he's downstairs doesn't hurt, either," she replied matter-of-factly.
"He's here?" Isabelle squeaked out, automatically fixing her hair and smoothing the wrinkles from her clothing. Lily smirked.
"You've got it baaad," she teased. "And, yes, he's downstairs. Or rather, he was. Now I think he's on the grounds somewhere."
"Why is he here?" Isabelle hissed.
"To throw himself at your mercy. Then, after he redeems himself, he's secretly hoping to see you in a certain little black number of mine. Although it does put me off a bit that he thinks that you'll do it better justice than I did. After I go to all the trouble to try and fix his love life, that's the thanks I get? Humph," she huffed.
"Lily, you're terrible," Isabelle exclaimed, turning three shades of pink.
"Hey, I'm just the messenger. Lover boy's the one having the naughty thoughts. And trust me, there's plenty more where that came from."
"I know your son," she muttered underneath her breath.
"Yes, he's turning out quite well, thanks to you. And, no thanks to Petunia. But, let's not dwell on unpleasantries. As I was saying, Sirius never really thought that you were with another man. But, in a weird, demented Sirius way, he hoped that the baby's not his. Remember what happened the last time he had a baby?"
Isabelle exploded. "I am so sick and bloody tired of being compared to Regina! It's faulty logic. The last time I had a baby, the baby died. So, am I supposed to deny the fact that I'm pregnant because I could lose this baby too? Or shut myself off emotionally? He's being a coward Lily, plain and simple."
"I know that, and he knows that. And believe it or not, he doesn't compare you to Gina at all. It just appears that way because he's a guy and can't say what he's thinking. He's scared to lose you again. He really needs you, Isabelle; he always did. Your faith in him as a child is the reason he made anything of himself in the first place."
"I didn't know that."
"Yup. And, he wants to make things right between the two of you. James is probably turning over in his grave, but Sirius wants to marry you."
"Just because I'm pregnant," Isabelle said sadly. "Now I know how Mummy P felt."
"In more ways that one," Lily replied cryptically.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You'll find out." Her eyes twinkled. "Back to Sirius, he doesn't want to marry you just because you're pregnant. In fact, he's been carrying around a lovely ring for nearly six months now."
"What!" Isabelle's eyes flew open.
"Poor guy, every time he tries to propose, something catastrophic happens. Shame, really."
"Ok, let's recap. Sirius doesn't think I ever ran around on him, knows that the baby's his, and wants to marry me? And, he wanted to marry me before the baby came along?"
Lily nodded. Isabelle grinned broadly and threw her arms around her sister joyously.
"I love you, sis. And, I really want the two of you to be happy together. So, stop worrying about what people will think and start living."
"Thanks," Isabelle sniffled.
"Now, go downstairs and trap yourself a husband," Lily joked.
"But, I don't want to leave you," she protested.
"What did I tell you earlier? I'll always be around when you need me. Now go!" Lily shooed her sister down the stairs before disappearing.
Isabelle paused at the landing to wipe a stray tear from her eye before opening the attic door. She nearly ran over Sirius when she stepped into the hallway. Surprised, he nonetheless managed to keep them from tumbling to the floor.
"Sorry about that," he apologized, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "Isabelle, I-"
Suddenly, she really didn't want to hear his explanations and excuses. Besides, he had a nasty habit of botching up his apologies, anyway. Isabelle reached up and put her index finger over his lips to make him stop talking.
"Shut your yap, and come to bed already. I'm tired." She briskly turned on her heel and marched into her bedroom, where she quickly changed for bed. From her vantage point she saw Sirius standing in the hallway, completely astonished and confused. A minute later, he walked in the room.
"Isabelle, I-"
"Yeah, I forgive you," she mumbled, half-asleep. "Love you too."
Sirius began to reply, but quickly realized that she was sound asleep. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. A smile crossed his face as he wondered why on earth she would forgive him so easily. It doesn't really matter, he decided, tenderly brushing her hair away from her face. Before standing up, he kissed her nose and covered her sleeping form with the blanket, truly considering himself the luckiest man alive.