When Isabella returned to Hogwarts after Christmas break, things were decidedly not going well. She had sent a soothing letter to her father when she saw the Prophet article describing the breakout of ten high security prisoners. The letter had succeeded in stopping her father from coming and taking her out of Hogwarts, but she had completely forgotten the Petrrocis.
Ten owls descended on her one morning at breakfast. Great-Aunt Guilia stated that she was not surprised the English could not keep their prisoners. Uncle Luigi expressed concern about her staying in the country. Juliet and Taddeo were also worried, offering to come and personally collect her. Ale, Roberto, and Lorenzo all wrote, half-joking and half-deadly serious, that they were going to send howlers to Fudge. Ale also offered to fly over and come get her. There were others, more aunts and uncles and one or two second-cousins, all expressing concern and insisting she return to Villa Petrroci.
"Well, at least Grandfather didn't write," Isabella sighed, shooing away the owls who were threatening to step on her waffles.
"What would have happened if he did?" Morgan asked, trying to eat her scrambled eggs around an owl.
"I'd have had to go," Isabella shrugged. "No one refuses Leonardo Petrroci anything."
But her grandfather did write to her mother. She wasn't sure what exactly he had said, but her mother had been hard-pressed to convince him it was better to remain where they were. Her mother's letter to Isabella relating the incident was somewhat frantic and hassled. At least half the words that were supposed to be in Gaelic were in Latin, which just made everything more difficult.
Valentine's Day arrived and Terry and Isabella made plans to spend the day in Hogsmede together. It was a fresh, breezy sort of day and the High Street was full of students ambling up and down.
"So... where d'you want to go?" Terry asked and Isabella shrugged. They were holding hands and walking past shop windows, occasionally peering in. There were pictures of the ten escaped Death Eaters staring out of every shop window. It was the same poster, offering a ten thousand Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information leading to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured. Isabella and Terry stopped outside Dervish and Bangs and looked over it.
"Of course no one will get the reward," Isabella said cynically. "They'll use the information to capture the Death Eater and then say someone else gave them information before hand."
"That's mental," Terry said as they moved away. "But probably true." It began to rain as they passed Scrivenshaft's; cold, heavy drops of water that soaked them through.
"Do you want to get a coffee?" said Isabella tentatively. Coffee was a fundamental part of Italian culture, and Hogwarts never seemed to have any.
"Yeah, all right," said Terry, looking around. "Where?"
"Cho told me about some place called Madam Puddifoot's," Isabella said. "I think it's just up the road." They hurried along the lane and ducked into a small, steamy teashop. The interior was cramped and everything was decorated in frills and little bows. Isabella was uncomfortably reminded of Umbridge's office.
Someone, presumably Madam Puddifoot, had decorated for Valentine's Day. There were a number of golden cherubs hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.
Isabella caught sight of Harry and Cho sitting down at the last remaining table together.
"Let's go," Isabella told Terry, turning and pushing her way out of the teashop. They stood outside in the rain for a moment, staring at the steam-filled windows.
"That was..." Terry said awkwardly, not wanting to insult the place in case Isabella had liked it, or thought it was cute or something.
"Revolting," Isabella finished firmly. "Come on, let's go to Honeydukes, or Zonkos or... or anywhere besides there." She said with an exaggerated shudder. Terry laughed and they crossed the street to where Honeydukes Sweet Shop was.
They entered the warm building, the scent of caramel and chocolate wrapping around them comfortingly. The sweet shop was packed with students enjoying their day off.
"This is more like it," Terry laughed, unwrapping his scarf and moving to the counter. There were fizzing whizbees, lemon drops, sugar quills, chocolate frogs, and enormous boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. Isabella selected a bag of lemon drops and popped one in her mouth, savoring the sweet and sour taste.
Terry took his time, looking over everything carefully. The shopkeeper finished helping a group of giggling Slytherins and caught sight of Terry. Isabella had moved a little away, admiring the display of licorice wands.
"Can I help you, young sir?" the shopkeeper, a rotund balding man wearing a red and white striped apron asked.
"Well, actually..." Terry said, looking over his shoulder at Isabella.
"Say no more, say no more," the shopkeeper assured him, following his gaze. He led Terry along the counter. The counter was glass at this end, revealing a stunning selection of chocolate covered strawberries and little slices of chocolate cake.
"Bella!" Terry called, and she turned with a smile. Her face lit up when she saw that he was carrying two chocolate strawberries. One was coated in dark chocolate with white swirls and the other was exactly the opposite.
"Terry, you shouldn't have!" she said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.
They ran through the rain, falling hard and fast now, and ducked into the Three Broomsticks. They were laughing hard now, despite the fact that they were soaking wet. Sitting down at the bar they ordered sandwiches and Butterbeers.
They talked for a while, discussing Quidditch and the World Cup that had taken place last year. Isabella saw Luna enter with Hermione and some strange woman she thought looked vaguely familiar.
"Who's that?" she asked Terry, gesturing towards where the woman sat. The stranger had perfect blonde ringlets and a distinctly sour expression, like she'd been forced to swallow Stinksap.
"Uh, Reeta Skeeter I think," Terry said, squinting through the steamy bar. "Wasn't she a reporter or something?"
"Yes! She covered the Triwizard Tournament, didn't she?" Isabella said, suddenly remembering. "I thought she was retired." They watched as Hermione waved Harry over from another part of the bar.
"Doesn't look like it," Terry said. They finished their lunch and then headed out once more into the torrential rain. Isabella led Terry into Zonkos where they browsed around a little.
"I hope Fred and George get that joke shop set up," Isabella said, examining a piece of parchment designed to insult anyone who tried to read it. "They've got some really good ideas and a few pieces of amazing magic."
"Hmm," Terry shrugged non-commitally. He still felt a little jealous of the Weasley twins. They were older, and had a certain devil-may-care attitude that Isabella seemed to like. They were also gathering a certain glamorous quality, becoming more wealthy that any other member of their family. Not that Isabella really seemed to care that much about money, but Terry know that her grandfather expected her to marry well.
"...I said, do you want to head back now?" Isabella's voice interrupted his thoughts. He wondered guiltily how many times she had asked him.
"Oh, yeah I guess," Terry shrugged. "They haven't restocked in years." Isabella looked at him with an odd hurt expression. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," she frowned. "Only I said about five minutes ago that they haven't restocked."