Standing in the doorway of the kitchen I look down the long room, eyes set on Mr. Weasley. The area over his left eye is swollen and half of his face is still red and raw looking, one of his hands is wrapped. Everyone sitting at the table looks pleased to see him. I, on the other hand, wish I was still at the Malfoy's.

"Oh, Harry, when did Isabelle get is?" Mrs. Weasley questions noticing me standing off in the corner, I refuse to talk to anyone but Sirius and Harry.

Harry looks at me for a minute; I don't break my silence. "Just last night," he replies for me.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley smiles at both Harry and me, "it's a pleasure to have you both here."

Handing Harry a present Mrs. Weasley turns back to the table of her own children. I'm not really welcome here. All the Weasley's blame me for breaking up with Ron even though he's explained it to them a dozen times that it was an agreement. I really don't care.

I stand there, looking down the hall wishing for someone, anyone to come down the stairs and save me from this awkwardness. Sirius Black is my savior.

"Dad!" I exclaim rushing over to him, throwing my right arm around him. My left still burns on contact with anything.

"I've missed you," Sirius replies with a smile once he's let me go.

"Missed you too, dad."

Before we can say anymore Mr. Weasley is holding up his glass, "A toast, a toast to Mr. Harry Potter. Without whom I would not be here…Harry!"

"Harry," I mumble along with everyone else. I'm getting a bit tired of him always being the hero.

Much later

My head resting on Buckbeak's side I look up at the stars through the window, Sirius at my side. He wants to talk and I'm not opposed. He won't pry; he's not that kind of father.

"How was your prior engagement?" Sirius questions.

"I enjoyed myself. I went to my boyfriend's house incase you where wondering." I answer knowing he'll just make a joke out of it.

"Should I be concerned?"

"No, we didn't do anything."

"Well, then no need to worry. He's in your house, yes?"

"Yes, pure – blood too. He knows…the truth, I mean."

"Is it okay for him to know this?"

"I trust him not to tell anyone that shouldn't be told."

"Do any of the others suspect anything? Am I acting convincing enough?"

Laughing I nod, "Of course you are but I think Hermione might, not about our thing but about my house. I'm doing terribly at remembering."

"Tell me again why you are doing this?"

"I want to get to know him better, Harry, I mean. He is the one we're protecting after all."

"What about Severus?"

"He's terribly nosy. I don't like him. Thinks he's better than too many people."

"Well, you make sure you set him straight."

"At every chance I get."

"That's my girl," Sirius says, taking hold of my left arm.

"Ouch!" I exclaim pulling it away.

"What's wrong?" Sirius questions trying to pull up my shirt sleeve.

"Nothing! Spell went wrong. I'm fine."

"Alright, keep your secrets."

Closing my eyes, I wrap my left arm around myself so Sirius cannot look at it while I am resting. If he knew I would have to be killed. I don't want to die, well, not yet anyway.

Next day

Walking down the stairs I can hear Kreacher mumbling away about half – bloods and muggles. He's been unnaturally vile ever since…well he's always been vile.

"Kreacher!" I yell, skipping the last three steps.

"That's enough of your bile, away with you," Sirius commands as we enter the family tree room where Harry is standing.

How I dislike the lot of 'em. House elves are a terrible breed, one that should only show their leathery selves in the black of night.

"Of course, mater, Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black," the filthy little elf bows before walking out.

"Sorry about that. I'm actually surprised the listened to me, had a bloody hard time getting him to follow orders once Isabelle left," Sirius explains to Harry who is only half looking at us.

Smiling I comment on Sirius' statement, "He likes me."

"He was never pleasant, not even when I was a boy. At least not to me, he always liked the girls," replies Sirius with a laugh.

"What? You grew up here?" Harry asks peeling his eyes away from the family tree.

"This is my parent's house. I offered it to Dumbledore as headquarters for the Order. It's about the only useful thing I've been able to do," Sirius says.

Shaking my head I give my father a stern look, "Now that's a load of rubbish and we both know it."

"Never mind," Sirius responds. "This is the Black family tree. My deranged cousins, I hated the lot of them. My parents with their pure – blood mania –" Sirius points to his black out picture – "my mother did that after I ran away; charming women. I was sixteen."

Shifting my eyes away from the black spot that is my father, I find my own picture. Ivory skin, green eyes, fiery red hair, lips set in that smirk Draco loves…I look more like a Weasley; nothing like my mother and father.

"Where did you go?" questions Harry looking up at Sirius.

"Round your dad's, I was always welcome at the Potters. I see him so much in you Harry. You are so very much alike," replies my dad.

I butt in, "Well they both share the same dislike for a certain student now potions teacher."

Sirius begins to laugh and I join in both of us sharing a private joke. Harry shifts his weight from one foot to another feeling awkward to be left out. It feels good to laugh but it feels wrong. Suddenly I stop. This is wrong. I am supposed to hate these people for what they've done yet I am enjoying myself. How terrible I am at this.

"I'm not so sure," Harry says. "Sirius, when I was…when I saw Mr. Weasley attacked I wasn't just watching I was the snake. And afterwards, in Dumbledore's office there was a moment when I wanted to –" Harry turns to me – "when I was holding your hand too tight."

Hiding my pleasure at this fact I nod understandingly, pulling my arm away as Harry tries to hold my hand. It still hurts on contact. Why I am not sure. Mine is no different from the others. Father said it would only hurt for a few days; it's been almost two weeks.

"About this connection between Voldemort and me, what if the reason for it is that I am becoming more like him? I just feel so angry all the time. What if I'm becoming bad?" Harry asks, voicing his inner most concerns.

"You're nothing like him Harry, you never will be," I state knowing this only too well.

Sirius places his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Harry. You're not a bad person; you're a very good person who bad things have happened to."

Harry nods, looking over to me as if I'm supposed to be of some sort of help. I don't care if he's going mad or turning evil. It's none of my concern. I could care less.

"Besides," Sirius continues on with his speech, "the world isn't split into good people and Death Eater."

Turning away I walk from the room, mumbling under my breath, "And that, father, is what lead you astray last time."

I cannot wait to get back to Hogwarts. I miss Draco.