Isabella Black sat in her dark room in #12 Grimmauld Place, the candles had long since burned out, the glow from the moonlight filtering into the room making the tears glisten on her cheeks. She rubbed her temples and wiped her tears away. How could she have been so stupid, so naive? Two years now seemed like an eternity. So many things the same, but so many things were different.

She stood up and then sat on the windowsill, looking out at the dimly lit street. Life should be good. After the war ended, Isabella had finally made a name for herself. For the past two years she had been traveling all over the UK to model. Sure, she wasn't known in the Muggle world, but being known in the wizarding world is what mattered to her. Finally her name didn't hold a stigma when it was heard, no one cared who she had come from, but rather how she looked. The world she now lived in, the one that now consumed her, was fickle and superficial, but it was something she thought she had craved.

Two years ago she had vowed that she would never return home. It held too many painful and sad memories. She hated being in the house, where the ghost of her father still lingered. The fact that they had had such a short time together left a deep ache in her heart that was too hard to bare. On top of that, the fact that she shared the house with her now ex boyfriend proved to be just as cruel of a reminder as to why she didn‘t want to be back. But, circumstances had changed and apparently people change. He had moved on, it was simple as that. She thought she had done the same. In reality she had meerly shut off her feelings, pushed them to the side and pretended they didn't exist. The ice princess had once been melted, but now she was back in the form of the ice queen.

Isabella sighed and stood up from the windowsill, wiped her tears yet again. No matter how hard she tired the silent tears just kept rolling down her pale cheeks. With a yawn she sleepily made her way over to her queen sized bed. The last time she had slept in that bed, she had woken up with Harry beside her. But that would never happen again. Now he had the sickeningly perky Tricia Norwood to wake up next to. Blonde, bubbly, vivacious. To sum it up, she was everything Isabella wasn't. Where Tricia was light, Izzy was dark. They couldn't look more different from each other. Tricia after all was blonde, with a skinny waif like body. Isabella on the other hand was just as thin, but she had curves and a set of breasts that made men's pop out of their heads. She took great satisfaction in the fact that she didn't look like a 12 year old boy, but hey, if that's what Harry was into now who was she to say anything?

It’s not as though Isabella had always been icy and shut off from the rest of the world. Growing up she had been a happy and content little girl. She was well adjusted, despite her father and mother had both disappeared from her life before the age of two. She never gave her Aunt and Uncle (Marian and Amos Diggory) any trouble at all after they had been kind enough to take in her and Will. No, her cold exterior came with age. She had witnessed too much darkness in her life not to be affected by it.

When she was just ten years old she had learned who her mother was, and she had to admit it came as quite a surprise. Unfortunately she was the only daughter of Lord Voldemort’s only daughter, Celia. Her father really wasn’t much better. All her life she was told her father, Sirus Black, had killed 13 people with a single curse. When she was thirteen years old she finally discovered the truth about her father. He wasn’t a raving lunatic after all, but rather a loving and caring father. Still, she had the stigma of the Riddle name hanging over her head every minute of everyday and just because her and her friends knew her father was innocent, didn’t mean anyone else did. What made things worse is that she was the spitting image of her mother and when they finally came face to face it was like looking into a mirror.

The one thing that had stayed the same in her long absence was Ron and Hermione's love... as well as their love for bickering. Both had greeted her the same way they did when they were still attending Hogwarts. Both could still bring a smile to her face. Her brother, Will, was the other constant in her life. They exchanged owls a few times a week while she was off traveling. He was still the same brother she had grown up with, except now he seemed to have inherited their fathers rumoured love for the ladies. When Isabella had arrived home, his latest flavour of the week was attached to his arm. For the life of her she couldn't recall the bleach blonde's name, and she was sure Will was having the same problem.

The biggest surprise of all came not when all the Weasley's, Lupin, Mad Eye Moody, Tonks, and the rest of the old Order of the Phoenix, but rather when Draco Malfoy showed up. It appeared he really had redeemed himself in the eyes of everyone. It was he, after all, who killed his own father in order to help Harry defeat Voldemort. Draco gladly took the Veritaserum potion to prove who's side he was really on. Izzy had no doubts of where his loyalties lied after that, it was she who had brewed the potion in the first place. Everyone said she took after her mother that way. Instead of foul words, hexes and fights, Draco was greeted warmly, and as he wrapped his arms around her, she felt a strange sort of wind pass through the room. She was still getting used to thinking of him as a friend.

She rolled onto her side and stared at her dull reflection in her vanity mirror. Her blue eyes blinked when she did, her reflection mimicking her every move, yet she didn't feel like herself. For a spilt second she saw a flash of darkness in the hollow pools of her eyes. Still to this day, people who had known her mother would comment on how much she and her are alike. When she had walked into potions class in year six, Professor Slughorn had mistaken her for Celia Riddle, the brilliant girl he had taught so many years ago. The way she was compared to Celia made her sick. Who in their right mind would want to be compared to such a monster? She was told their actions and personalities were so much alike. Both ambitious, bright, determined, no one ever saw Celia heading down a road so many were afraid to follow. Except where Celia had turned bad, Izzy was and had always been good. Never tempted by the darkness, despite who's blood flowed so freely in her veins.

Slowly she had to look away, her face was just a painful reminder of what dark shadows lurked in this house. She felt hollow and empty, something she had felt for years. No amount of pictures or money or attention could ever make her whole again. When her father was murdered she had felt numb... angry, scared and alone. But she had been whole again after that. She felt something even more powerful than all those emotions combined. She knew what it was like to be loved, and her heart ached for it now. She knew it could make her whole again, to bring light back into her gray hued life. But she didn't want just anyone's love. She wanted the person who had made her whole in the first place. She wanted Harry. She should be moving on for real this time. If she did that, it would be just one more lie to convince herself of.

As she slowly drifted to sleep, her mind raced. She saw memories flash before her eyes. Happier times. Times in her life where the only care in the world was whether she was going to pass her classes or not. Times that were passed with lazy afternoons and happy smiles. It was a world that she hadn't known for years. As her body relaxed and her breathing became more rhythmic one thought screamed loud and clear in her mind. She had spent the past two years running from reality. She couldn't do it anymore. No longer would she push her feelings and her needs into a distant space in her mind. She knew that no matter how far she got away, her problems could be right around the next corner. She had made up her mind in that split second before she entered a dreamless sleep: she was going to chase down and face her demons head on. She owned it to herself to do so.

Morning had arrived and gone, as did afternoon and now with the sun setting behind the houses that littered Grimmauld Place, Isabella’s bedroom door creaked open. She stirred but did not awaken. Lost in the world of her dreams she was trapped. Visions played in her mind’s eye, as they had done throughout her deep yet restless sleep. The reoccurring dream she had been having that night always ended the same: her father was alive, but suffering; locked in a Death Eater’s clutches. He always cried out for help, yet no matter how much she fought she could never reach him. Someone’s foot steps now echoed in her room, the pink glow from the setting sun was the only light; she hadn’t bothered to close her curtains the night before. She heard the sounds as her body was releasing her from her dreams, but still she didn’t wake.



A strong, soft, gentle hand brushed her dark chocolate brown locks off her sleeping face. From inside her sleep she knew who was touching her. She’d know the touch of those hands till the day she die. Her eyes fluttered open, straining against the last daylight that was slowing fading from her room and focused on the person standing above her. The boy who lived, the man who won in all his glory: Harry Potter. He smiled a little as he saw that she was finally awake, though she didn’t return the smile. He frowned, the smile melting downwards. Isabella sat up, unsure of how she ended up in her bed clothes or even under the covers for that matter. A look of confusion swept across her delicate features.



“Malfoy. He came to say good night to you, and uh, well you were already asleep,” Harry said, he had always had the ability to know what she was thinking. It was a curse, yet a blessing. No one got her the way he did and it drove her mental.



“How much did he see?” she asked bluntly.



Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “It was dark and he swears he saw nothing. Trust me, Ron and I already gave him the third degree about it.”



With a silent nod, Isabella started to get out of bed when Harry put a hand on her bare shoulder, only the strap from her tank top preventing the complete contact of their skin. Her blood rushed to the spot where his hand lay, warming her skin and making her heart skip a beat. It had been so long since she felt human contact. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat.



“I wanted to talk to you about a few things before we went down for dinner,” Harry said, his thumb brushing her soft skin absently. She wished he wouldn’t, it was starting to make her head spin.



Finally the pretty young girl found her voice and she locked her eyes on his. “About?” she asked, her stomach feeling like a fist was clenching it and her lungs feeling as though someone had sat upon her chest. She had an idea what about, well more like a million ideas, none of them she was ready to face.



Harry cleared his throat. “For starters we’re all really worried about you...” he started to say.



“You have no reason to be. I’m fine,” Izzy cut him off, her voice giving away that she was already on the defensive, and ready to fight back if his words stung too much.



“Let me finish,” he said. And with her nod of approval he did. “You’re not fine. You’re skin and bone, and don’t try and deny it,” he raised a hand when he saw that her mouth was opening in protest.” Mrs. Weasley cooked your favorites last night and you hardly touched any of it. Hmm what else is there? Oh yes, there’s the fact that you’ve slept for eighteen hours straight, and look at the bottles scattered around you room,” he gestured with his hand.



Her blue eyes flickered to the desk. She saw the bottles and it felt like she had been hit in the face by a cold, hard hand. Why couldn’t she remember drinking? She certainly didn’t feel like she had been drinking the night before. Truth be told is that in the past few months she found herself turning to fire whiskey for comfort, but she knew she didn’t last night. At least she was sure she didn’t.



“Those aren’t mine,” her eyes settled back on Harry. “I would remember if I got shit faced last night, and I didn’t.”



He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, the look on his face said it all. It was obvious that he didn’t believe her. “Alright,” he said quietly with a shake of his head.



She shook her head and let a bitter laugh escape her lips. It now felt as though the walls were spinning, much like the room had spun at the Ministry of Magic the night her father was murdered. She was trapped and the only way to escape it was to run as she always did. “We’re done now,” she said, flying out bed, feet landing firming on the hard wood floor.



“No, we’re not. There is something major we need to talk about...” Harry grabbed her arm as she slipped on a pair of jeans and then turned to rummage through the suitcase that was on her floor.



She cut him off again. “How you now have another woman living under my roof?” she snapped, not being able to help herself. He had it coming, he had pushed one too many button, and the anger bubbled out of her like a brew in a cauldron.



Harry shook his head, his shocked expression now replaced with one of sheer anger. “What?” he asked. “No, but now that you mention it I own part of this house too,” he said. “And I’ll say this once, she is my guest whether you like it or not.”



She felt her whole body tense as he spoke, and her head started to spin. Why did he have to come into her room in the first place? It‘s not like she asked him to be concerned or to throw his new girlfriend in her face “I’m not about to get into a war of wits with you. I don’t have the energy, the strength, or...”



“The heart,” it was his turn to cut her off. “The fire’s gone out. We can all see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice.”



She finally wrenched her arm away from him and hastily grabbed the first shirt she found and slipped it over her torso. “You have no idea,” she whispered and stormed out of the room, not wanting to feel suffocated any longer.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Harry watched as Isabella stormed out of her room. He sighed to himself and looked around. Her room looked exactly the same as when she had walked out of his life two years ago. The posters still hung on her walls, the pictures still moved in their little square and rectangle glass frames, and it still smelled faintly of her perfume. It was still the room of a nineteen year old happy and grounded young woman, not the one of the miserable twenty one year old woman that had returned the night before.



He thought back to the day he returned home and all that was waiting for him was a note. Part of his heart was taken with Isabella that day, and part of it died as he read her words, understanding them yet so angry at her for walking out on him when he needed her the most. It seemed that he had lost everyone in his life whom he loved. His parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore. Yes, he still had his best friends, and he loved them, but not in the same way he loved Isabella. He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. Carefully he unfolded the note from her that he kept with him at all times. His eyes scanned the page, retaking in every word.



Dear Harry,



By the time you read this letter I’ll be gone.



I’m sorry I couldn’t say this to your face, but I wasn’t sure how I could look the man I love in the eyes and tell him I couldn‘t stand to have him look at me any longer. I don’t even know where to start or even how to explain how I feel. I’m not the same girl I was nine years ago when we met aboard the Hogwarts Express. Nor am I the same girl you fell in love with. So much has changed and gone are the days when we had others looking out for us, but are now replaced by days where we can only rely on ourselves.



Ghost’s and broken dreams haunt me here. #12 Grimmauld is like a hollow, painful vision of the past and even if I close my eyes it will never go away. But for every ounce of me that hates it here I equally love it. No other place in the world will ever be home for me, but my life depends on my leaving it. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s the only sane rationalization I can come up with. You had talked about getting away from London, moving to the Hollow, building a life for us, but even then I wouldn’t be able to escape myself . Too many people’s lives have been altered by the people who I unfortunately have to call my family. Their eyes watch me, as if waiting for me to walk down the same dark path. And it hurts.



The night you killed Voldemort and I killed my own mother a part of me died. I could feel my heart stop beating in the brief moment when she took her last breath. Despite never being raised by her, she was my flesh and blood and we shared a connection that I will never understand. The mark of protection she had Voldemort give me the day I was born still burns the flesh of my arm; a constant reminder of who I am and who I come from. Though I am nothing like them, I see her everytime I look in a mirror, and reminded that their blood lives on inside me.



How can you love someone like me? I finally understand why our love was called forbidden for so many years. I don’t understand how you can look past it all and see me for who I am. You’re a special man who has never done what others have told you to do, and you never judging, but rather you see people for their true colours. You deserve so much more, someone whole and someone who can give you all the love you need.



I’m haunted and I don’t know which way is up and which way it down. I need to get my bearings, to find away to build a casket for my demons. To escape the hallways, to escape me and you. Here in November in my house of leaves I see a perfect forest through so many splintered and burnt trees. If you and I are meant to be then it will be. I will always miss you.





I love you,



Izzy.



Even as he reread the note the words still didn’t make complete sense. The words were a most intimate look inside her state of mind. Ramblings from somewhere so deep inside her they had never seen the light of day. For so many nights he had imagined her sitting at the kitchen table as she wrote the words furiously. No tears would have fallen from her eyes, but rather sting them, threatening to spill over at any moment. He knew how badly she hurt inside, he felt it too. He would have given anything to take her pain away, to make her whole once more. But deep down he knew he couldn’t give her what she needed. No amount of love could, not until she could accept who she was and not feel bad about it. Never once did Harry ever doubt her intentions, and never once did he see the face of his enemy in hers.



Slowly he folded the note and put it back into his wallet. It had taken a year and a half to get over her, to let himself move on and face the fact that she was never coming back. What Will had said to her to get her come home he had no idea. He also had no idea of what he felt when he saw her walk through that door. For the past two years he had seen her picture in Witch Weekly as well as in other publications, but it couldn’t prepare him for what he saw when she came home. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered, but it was a much darker beauty. A beauty of someone who was damaged, but not defeated.



He looked around her room once more before he stood up to head back downstairs. He was lying to himself when he said he didn’t love her and it was an even bigger lie to say he was over her. He had convinced himself he couldn’t love someone who had hurt him so deeply. Besides, he had Trisha now who was the polar opposite of Izzy, which was one of the reasons he had been drawn to the perky blonde in the first place. She wasn’t a challenge, she didn’t push his buttons, and if he was perfectly honest with himself their relationship was down right boring. But it was safe, and he knew it was something he needed at that moment in his life.



As he walked down the stairs he attempted to push all his thoughts of Isabella out of his mind; successfully for the time being. He then took another flight of stairs and walked into the basement kitchen, standing in the door way and watching silently as Trisha helped Mrs. Weasley prepare dinner, as Ron and Hermione had another heated argument over what jinx’s worked best for an assortment of creatures, and as Draco and Isabella stood quietly in the opposite corner, their heads close together as the spoke quietly. Though it was only for a brief moment, there was no denying what he just felt was the ugly fist of jealousy punching him in the stomach.

“Izzy...” Will called, leaning on her bedroom door frame.

He was met with silence as he watched his sister. She was curled up in their father’s favorite chair, which she had moved into her room after his death, with a blanket wrapped around her and a book in her lap.

“ISABELLA!” he shouted.

She jumped, the book flew out of her lap and landed on the floor. “Good Lord!” she exclaimed.

Will laughed and entered the room, picking up her book for her. “I’m going out for a bit. I have to run over to Diagon Alley, need anything?” he asked her.

“No... I’m alright, thank you,” Isabella replied, her eyes studying him. “So I’m home alone then?” she asked.

“Yeah... Harry is at work, as is Tricia. As for the rest of your friends, who have now temporarily moved in, they’re working as well. Oh, but Dobby is home,” Will told her.

After Hogwart’s closed soon after Dumbledore death, the siblings had decided to hire Dobby as their house elf. Kreacher didn’t take kindly to the news, and he became more and more ornery, moody and even less of a help than he normally was. He had finally passed away last year much to everyone's delight.

“Alright... maybe I’ll see how he’s doing in a little while,” she said absent mindedly, her eyes drifting away from Will.

He handed her book back to her and then kneeled down in front of her. “Are you okay? You’ve been home, what? A week now? And we hardly see you. You’re always locked away in your room or Apparating to your managers house. You’re a million miles away.”

Isabella brought her blue eyes off the floor and locked them on her brother’s own eyes. He had Sirius’ eyes, as well as his smile. “You look so much like Dad,” she said, clutching her book to her chest. “I don’t know if I’m okay. Ever since I’ve gotten home I’ve been numb. I’m scared that if I let myself feel it’s going to be too painful,” she took a breath.

Will studied her face. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I keep trying to tell myself that. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I just need to let go, I can’t. There are so many memories here and everywhere I look I see him. And then there is Harry... I hate seeing him with her,” her voice took on a tone of disgusted when she thought of Tricia.

Will let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah... this is going to sound completely wrong, but I hate seeing him with her too,” he admitted, thus causing his sister to laugh. “See... there, I made you laugh,” he smiled.

“William... I never knew you felt that way about Harry,” she teased, a glimmer of her former self returning momentarily. “But seriously, Will, I can’t explain. I feel like if I just don’t let go I’ll be swallowed whole, yet if I do let go and accept life for what it is I’m going to end up worse off than I am now.”

“Listen, I know it’s hard. I hate the fact that Dad is gone, but it’s been nearly six years and as much as we don’t want it to be true he’s never coming back. He wouldn’t want you to suffer or to be sad. You know damn well he wants you to be happy, and so do I. Maybe I was wrong in asking you to come back, but shit, Izzy, we need you to,” he put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re so much stronger than you think, but please don‘t go through this alone. Lean on me or Ron or Hermione, even Draco. You and I have had to deal with so much in the past few years. We already lost Dad, I’m not going to lose you too,” he tightened his grip, his voice straining a little.

Isabella bit her bottom lip, fighting the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She lost that battle, and slowly the tears rolled down her face. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise you.”

He smiled weakly, and patted his cheek. “I love you, Brat,” he ruffled his hair as he stood up straight.

“I love you too,” she smiled back at him, her tears slowly subsiding.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of silence rang in the house. Every so often she’d hear a creak or groan from the old house that would echo in the air, but nothing stirred. No noise of laughter, or friends talking. Even Dobby had gone out, though not before he checked on Isabella and made sure she didn’t need anything. A slight darkness had now settled over the house too, the only light coming from a small lamp that sat on her writing desk. It was just enough light to read by.

She was about to get up to light a few fires in their respective fireplaces and turn on a few more lights when she heard the first noise rip through the air. She thought at first it was Harry coming home from work.

“Harry?” she called, walking out of her second floor bedroom and looking down the stairs to the main landing. There was no one there.

She shook her head at herself as she checked her watch. It was only three in the afternoon, far too early for anyone to be home from work. She was about to turn back towards her room when she felt something brush past her and then she heard foot steps leading up the stairs. She strained to listen, the foot steps stopped and she heard the attic door creak open. The light in her room suddenly went out, leaving the whole house under a gray shadow.

“Hello?” she called. She knew it couldn’t be her imagination. She had felt the air move, rushing past her and leaving her in its wake.

When she didn’t hear an answer she darted into her room and grabbed her wand tightly in her hand. As soon as she did a sensation of cloudiness flooded over her. She moved, though it felt like every movement took more energy than she had. But the thought that someone or something was in her house made her keep going. Her head was swimming and it felt like she had entered a dream world. She could hear the blood rushing behind her ears and her heart beating in the silence.

She started up the stairs, one by one she conquered them, taking her one step closer to the attic. She struggled against the fits of dizziness she was now fighting. As she finally arrived at the landing, she quickly walked down the five and a half foot long hallway and she stood before the attic door that was open just a crack. Her head was floating and before she knew it, she was being sucked into a childhood memory. She could hear the voices of her parents and behind the haze that now settled in her head.

“Dominique, nique, nique. S'en allait tout simplement. Routier pauvre et chantant. En tous chemins, en tous lieux. Il ne parle que du bon Dieu. Il ne parle que du bon Dieu.”

The voices of her dead parents sang out in perfect unison.

She knew the song. They sang it to her when she was a baby. But how did she know what she had just heard was real and not her mind playing tricks on her? As quickly as the haze had come, it lifted leaving her feeling drained, but alert.

She grabbed the attic door handle and pushed it open as quickly as she could. She blinked a few times, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the blackness of the small room. She lifted the wand, used a quick nonverbal spell and light poured out of it. She looked straight ahead and saw two figured standing there.

“Daddy?” Her eyes met Sirius’.

“I thought I was dead,” came his reply, his voice hoarse. He looked weak and ragged and most of all confused. His eyes were hollow, no twinkle or life left in them.

Isabella started to move forward, wanting to go to her father and help him. But the second cloaked figure moved in front of Sirius. Slowly the figure removed the hood of her cloak to reveal herself. Standing before her was the woman Isabella had murdered two years ago. Celia Riddle. Izzy froze, the light now gone from her wand, though it didn’t make much difference, there was an odd bluish glow emanating from Celia.
“Surprised?” Celia smirked, obviously enjoying the fact she had rendered her daughter speechless. “I can’t blame you. Most children don’t expect to see their dead parents standing in front of them. But then again, most children don’t MURDER their mothers.”

Isabella shook her head, her mouth slightly open. She wanted to speak, but no words came out. To say that she was surprised would have been an understatement. It felt more like a slap across the face and a knife plunged into her heart.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Mommy’s got your tongue?” Celia hissed, no longer seeming amused that her daughter had no reply. “That seems to be a real trend with you, Isabella. You’re weak and pathetic. You run away, scared to face your problems instead of standing up and fighting.”

“Shut up! SHUT UP! You’re DEAD!” Isabella covered her ears and closed her eyes tightly, willing it all to go away.

“On the contrary my dear. I’m very much alive. And now I’m going to kill you,” she replied casually.

Isabella’s eyes flew open. “No... no! I killed you. You’re dead!” She sounded shrill and she no longer recognized her own voice.

“Scared are we? I would be. You have no one to save you now, you spineless little bitch!” Celia hissed. “Where is your boy wonder when you need him now? Or your heroic brother? Can you believe it? No only did my own daughter attempt to murder me, but my own son was in on it too,” she shook her head.

“I said SHUT UP! I’m not weak! I’m NOT!” Isabella yelled. “You don’t know. No idea..” her eyes darting over to Sirius, but he just stared straight ahead. Lifeless.

“I will kill you now and the last memories everyone will have of you is the fragile and damaged person you’ve become. Revenge is sweet my, dear,” she taunted with a smirk.

An anger boiled inside of Isabella and her wits came flooding back to her. She was standing face to face with a Death Eater, one who happened to be her mother. She remembered all the horrible things Celia had done to people over the years. She had been the one to point the finger at Sirius all those years ago. It was her fault he had spent so many years in Azkaban. No one knew just how many people she had tortured and killed in a bid to impress her monster of a father.

“Have you said your final prayers? Maybe you can tell your daddy goodbye this time. You won't ever see each other ever again. This will hurt. I promise,” Celia now laughed as she lifted her wand out of her robe pocket.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The only sound that now rang in the air was the sound of a mirror crashing to the floor. Isabella froze as she looked at the shattered glass. There was no more Sirius, no more Celia. It had been in her mind the whole time. Or had it? It had seemed so real. Her hands now shook as she heard foot steps running up the steps, her name being called.

“ISABELLA?” Draco’s voice rang out first. He stopped at the attic door, the face of Ron, Hermione, Harry and Will behind his shoulder.

“What the hell happened in here?” Will pushed through the crowd and surveyed the broken pieces on the wood floor and his shaken sister.

“She was here! I saw her. She was going to kill me. I...I...” her words trailed off as Will interrupted her ramblings.

“Who?”

“Celia.” It was now so quiet you could have heard a pin drop from all the way down in the kitchen.

“Oh, Izzy. Did you hit your head?” Hermione had walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm Isabella.

“No.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Ron looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes! I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’ve been drinking then?” Harry said, his tone a little nasty.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“You think so? Better a bastard than an angry, emotional drunk.” Harry replied, not being able to help himself.

“Quiet! All of you,” Will spoke up. “It’s just your imagination. She’s dead. We all saw her body with our own eyes.”

“I know! I was there, remember? I was the one who killed her,” Izzy sighed, now wanting to scream because everyone was looking at her like she had two heads. “She wasn’t alone. Dad was with her.”

“Ok this is ENOUGH Isabella! I know you’ve said since day one that he’s alive and somewhere out there, but this is ridiculous. Just get it through your mind: this wasn’t real,” Will snapped at her.

“But... I saw them,“ Her eyes were filling with tears and her throat felt tight. Not one of her friends or her brother would meet her eyes. “You all don’t believe me do you? You think I’ve lost it,“ shesaid, coming to a realization.

Finally a voice spoke out. “I believe you.”

“Thank you, Draco,” her eyes were met by his. She felt something stir with in her.

Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel gorgeous, but then all girls felt that when Draco Malfoy looked at them. Still, she hadn’t felt a man’s touch in a couple of years now and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have his lips kiss hers. Or have his fingers caress her skin.

He stepped closer to her, ignoring the glares he got from Harry, Ron and Hermione. Despite Draco sacrificing his father's life to save theirs, they still didn’t completely trust him. She didn’t blame them, she was still getting used to thinking of him as a friend. Will was a different story, the two of them had been friends while in Slytherin together. He had also been quick to defend Malfoy the night Dumbledore was murdered by Snape, claiming Draco wasn’t evil and was left no other alternative. Of course time had proven that Will was right, but the damage was still there and time was slowing healing the wounds between the Slytherin and Gryffindor’s.

“Come on, I’ll take you to your room,” he placed an arm around Isabella’s shoulder and lifted his eyes to meet Harry’s, a smirk on his lips. Harry met his gaze, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses, but he said nothing.

“Izzy...” Will started to say something, but she raised her hand.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear anything from any of you.”

“That’s not fair. We...” Hermione was also cut off.

“I mean it. I want nothing to do with you. You, Ron, Harry and especially you, William. Is that real enough for you? Or maybe it‘s the liquor talking, right Harry?” she asked as Draco lead her out of the attic, his arm still around her protectively.

Once they got back to her room, Izzy slammed the door shut, pulled a trunk out of her closet and started to throw clothes into it at fevered pace. Draco watched silently for a moment as she opened her chest of drawers and tossed her clothes into the trunk.

“What are you doing?” he asked, though the question seemed rather obvious.

“I’m packing. I need to get out of here,” she said, not looking up.

“And just where do you plan on going?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.

“I... well, I don’t know,” she stopped and looked at him. “I can’t stay here. The whole lot of my supposed best friends think I’m nuttier than a bowl of cashews. I guess maybe I was going to either prove them right or wrong and try and find them,” she answered, referring to her parents.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he stood up and walked over to her. “I know what the dark arts are like. They have more tricks up their sleeves than Fred and George,” his last comment made her smile a little. “Just promise me you won't go anywhere. If you go now it’s far too dangerous. You’re emotional and unprepared to face her again. Please, don’t go anything irrational. Stay here... with me.”

He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head into his chest, her arms wrapped around his back as well. She closed her eyes as she thought. Maybe he was right. She’d have no chance against Celia in her current state. She’d be dead before she would even know what was happening. Besides, he wanted her here. She didn’t know what that meant, but he wanted her.

“I’ll stay.”

A week and a half had gone by since Isabella told her friends and her brother not to speak to her. All had tried but she either slammed her bedroom door on their faces or walked away without saying a word. She had almost broken down and threw herself into Hermione's arms when she saw the tears in the other girls eyes. She didn’t know why she just couldn’t forgive, she was never one to hold a grudge. And maybe they were right, maybe she had been imagining her mother and her father.

The more she thought about what she saw that night, the more convinced she was that it was real. She had spent countless hours up in the attic while everyone was at work or out looking for clues. So far all she had was the broken glass, that still lay shattered on the attic floor, and a small torn piece of cloak. Of course she couldn’t prove that the scrap of fabric wasn’t there before, but she knew in her heart of hearts she wasn’t crazy.

She now sat on a stool in a softly lit room, hair and make up artists were making sure she looked flawless. She was in a flowing black ball gown, ready to do a photo shoot in it. She had signed a lucrative deal with BMG London, a clothing company that was the equivalent to the Muggles Gucci or Prada. Since wizards photos were motion, the theme of this shoot was to have Isabella on the stool, a light breeze blowing her hair, and have her slowly raise her piercing blue eyes up to the camera.


“Beautiful...beautiful. Stunning as always,” Dundas the photographer said as he walked onto set, his camera in his hands.

Isabella smiled. “Thank you.”

He spoke rapidly to his crew who adjusted the lighting, magically of course, set up the camera for the perfect angles, and lastly spoke to Izzy about what he was trying to accomplish. They were finally ready to start shooting. There was the usual dramas and naturally Dundas complained that she wasn’t hitting the facial expressions right. Finally after being at the studio from dawn till dusk, Isabella was able to go home.

When Isabella arrived home she was greeted by the smell of something incredibly delicious wafting up from the basement kitchen. Her stomach growled as she pulled off her shoes and hung up her coat on the coat rack. Yes, she had to watch her diet because of her job, but living off veggies for a whole day was a little ridiculous. She was starving.

She quickly jogged down the stairs and into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised or alarmed when she saw the whole lot of #12 Grimmauld Place’s current residents gathered around the table. She also wasn’t surprised when everyone but Draco averted their eyes and acted like their meals were the most interesting things they had ever seen.

Dobby looked up from the stove and blinked his huge eyes, his small mouth in a large grin. “Welcome home. Let Dobby get you a plate ready,” he squeaked.

Izzy smiled and walked over to him and the laid a kiss on his forehead. “Bless you, Dobby.”

He let out a giggle or sorts and she smiled at Draco as she sat next to him. At her request Draco had been staying with her in her room rather than returning to the Malfoy Mansion. Of course what no one new is that he was sleeping on the couch and she had no intentions of telling otherwise. They were entitled to think what they pleased, and frankly what her and Draco did or didn’t do was none of their business.

“How was it?” he asked as he poured her a goblet full of Butterbeer and Dobby placed a plate full of chicken, potatoes and mixed veggies in front of her.

“The usual. Everything starts out great, but then the photographer gets his knickers in a twist, only to have another mood swing and tell you how wonderful you are after the shoot is over.”

“That doesn’t sound challenging. Having people tell you how great and beautiful you are all day,” Trisha piped up, her hand resting on Harry’s shoulder and her fingers teasing the back of his neck. If Izzy didn’t know better, she’d say he looked rather uncomfortable.

“You’d think that, right?” she asked. “It is tiring, not so much being told you’re beautiful, but rather the twelve hour days and the mad rush of trying to get things perfect. It takes a certain type not to crack under the pressure. Don‘t worry love, there isn‘t too many of us around,” Izzy’s eyes bore into Trisha’s.

Trisha narrowed her eyes at Will as he stifled a giggle. Isabella glanced over at him and he shot her a small smile, which she returned. If one thing could ever bring them back together, it was their utter dislike for her perky blonde hanging off Harry. The rest of the meal was finished in silence. The table was cleared off in silence, and then with even more silence Ron, Hermione and Will left the kitchen.

This now left Draco, Harry, Trisha and Isabella alone. Izzy stood up from her chair to help Dobby with dishes, while Harry challenged Draco to a match of Wizard’s Chess. Isabella was just about to pick up a dish to dry it when a hand reached out and grabbed the towel away from her.

“No, no, no! This is Dobby’s job, not Mistress Isabella’s job,” the house elf spoke, tucking the dish towel into the waist of his trousers.

“I just want to help...” she trailed off in a small voice.

“He’s right. That’s what you hired him for,” Draco spoke up, he still had a bit of ill will towards Dobby, stemming back to when he found out Harry had Dobby follow him in 6th year. “Go on... run yourself a hot bath and get ready for bed. I’ll be up in a bit.”

“Don’t let Hermione hear you say that,” she smiled as she headed out of the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom. Even after all these years Hermione was still passionate about SPEW.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Draco sat across the table from Harry, staring down at the Wizard Chess table, trying to strategize his next move, trying to figure out where it would hurt Harry the most. It wasn’t so much that he actually wished harm upon Harry, he had gotten over his hatred years ago, but it’s just that Draco Malfoy liked to win.

He could feel the other man’s green eyes burning into his forehead. He doubted very much that the glaring was just about the game of Wizard Chess that Harry was currently losing. No, he knew it was about much more, namely the brunette who was now upstairs naked in a bath tub and the fact that Draco would be joined her soon. He had to suppress a smile.

“Draco?”

“Hmmm? What?” he asked, finally looking up.

“You going to make a move before dawn?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded as he glanced at Trisha. She was blinking at Harry, obviously upset over the fact that she wasn’t the center of attention. He made a move, one of his pawns destroying one of Harry’s. He heard Harry swear under his breath. He glanced over at Trisha who sighed loudly and stood up.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, leaning down so Harry could kiss her.

Draco muttered good night and then he heard the kitchen door slam behind her. His eyes drifted back to Harry and he raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t even say anything,” Harry said firmly.

“Wasn’t going to. Though it is evident that there is trouble in paradise.”

“She’s just... you know what? I’m not going to go there,” Harry muttered as he moved another chess piece.

“Good idea, mate,” Draco said, quickly making another move.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry glanced up, his cheeks reddening a little as he shifted uncomfortable in his seat.

“It’s about Isabella.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Draco knew damn well what Harry wanted to talk about.

“How did you...” Harry trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, it is about her. What’s going on between you?” he asked bluntly, his eyes locked on Draco.

“What do you mean?” Draco replied coolly. He wasn’t about to give up anything just yet, not until he got the answers he wanted.

“Don’t play glib with me, you son of a bitch,” the anger in Harry’s voice was apparent and seemed to burst out of him.

“Whoa... a little worked up aren’t we, Potter? If you must know I like her. A lot.”

“That’s such bullshit. You can’t be content with just one girl. You choose your targets, you woo them, you fuck them, then you dump them. I saw you do it in Hogwart’s and I’ve watched you and William do it during Isabella’s absence.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I use women for my own person satisfaction. And you’re right. I find targets. The harder for me to get the better. But I’ve changed. Seeing her again... put things in perspective for me. She makes me want to be good, be loyal and faithful. You know that feeling when you’d do anything for that one special person in your life? That’s how she makes me feel,” he turned on all the sap he could muster.

To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Isabella. He knew he really cared about her and what happened to her. Some days he felt like he wanted a monogamous relationship with her. Other days he felt like she was just another conquest. She would be the number one prize on his trophy wall so to speak. He had to conceal another smirk and he diverted his eyes, Harry’s stare making him uncomfortable.

“Wow... you should win an award for your acting,” Harry snorted. “You do know who you’re talking to, right? I know how you work. And let me make one thing damn clear to you,” he leaned in a little, his jaw clenched tightly, “if you touch her, and I know you haven’t yet, I will break your fingers. You hurt her and I will hurt you in ways even you can’t imagine. Understand?”

This time Draco wouldn’t help but smirk. “Someone is still carrying a torch for his ex-girlfriend. Does Trisha know? You’d think she’d figure it out. She’s a smart girl and she’s not blind. Despite how mad Izzy makes you, you still look at her the same way you did two and three years ago. You don’t fall out of love with someone like her.”

Harry clenched his fists and then stood up. He said nothing as he stormed out of the room, his foot steps pounding on the stairs as he ran up them.

“Round one goes to Draco,” Draco muttered to himself, the smirk still on his face.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He didn’t know how it had happened, but Harry had found himself on the fourth floor of the house and in front of the door to Isabella’s room. He was still raging inside, his hands shaking with anger. Who the hell did Draco think he was? Accusing him of still having feelings for Isabella. She had been the one who had walked out on him. He felt nothing for her anymore, at least that’s what he told himself.

Without knocking on the door he barged in to see her sitting on her bed in just a towel, damp hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and framing her face. She was smoothing lotion on her legs. He felt like he had been slapped in the face. She was much more than he remembered, and deep down he didn’t know how much longer he could go on lying to himself and Trisha.

“You finally made it,” she said, not looking up. “I’ve got so much to tell you. It’s amazing what you learn at these shoots...” her eyes drifted up and then narrowed. “You’re not Draco.”

“Thank Merlin,” Harry retorted, unable to help himself.

She pulled the towel around her tighter, and then looked around for her robe. When she did find it, she was fumbling with it so badly she dropped it twice and it ended up in one big, mixed up, twisted mess. Harry couldn’t watch her struggle anymore, so he stepped forward and took the robe from her.

“Here... let me try,” he said softly, all the rage and anger leaving his body as soon as his fingers brushed hers. The warmth of her skin was almost too much for him to handle, so he forced himself to focus on the robe as he straightened it out and then held it up for her to slip into. He could see her tense as he brought it over her arms and shoulders, but as his hands slid back up to her shoulders she let a rush of air escape her lungs.

“Why are you here,” she whispered, leaning back into him a little.

He closed his eyes, not thinking anymore. His hands massaged her shoulders, and he brought his lips in close to her ear, his lips brushing against it. He could hear the small gasp that escaped her mouth. She reached up, and from behind ran her fingers through his hair.

“I needed to see you,” he whispered back. “It’s about Draco,” he said. He instantly regretted saying anything. She pulled away from him and turned to face him.

“What about him?” she demanded. “You’re probably going to warn me not to get involved with him, that he’s bad news and is just going to end up using me. Right?”

“Yes. I just spoke to him. It’s written all over his face, Izzy. He doesn’t care about you the way I...” he broke off, his words getting caught in a big ball in his throat.

“Listen, I gave up the right to meddle in your relationships when I walked out two years ago. Notice how I haven’t said anything about your precious Trisha?” she asked, venom seeping in her voice as she said the girls name. “And now I want you to do the same. Stay out of my relationships.”

“Can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

She closed her eyes tightly, tears running down her cheeks. She opened them again and looked at him. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked. “I need to move on with my life, to love again.”

“Not with him,” he pleaded with her.

“Do you remember when we got together nearly four years ago, what I gave you of mine?” she asked.

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, four years ago I gave you my heart, Harry. Now I need it back.”

The words stung him. “I’m not sure I can give it back.”

“What do you mean?” Confusion was written all over her face.

“Izzy, I still love you.” Harry had finally admitted the truth and the weight left his shoulders.

Isabella’s eyes fluttered open in the early morning , her curtains opened a crack, the sun was just getting ready to rise. She sat up and yawned, rubbing her head as she did so. Draco was still sleeping on the couch in her room. Last night had been one hell of a ride. Harry had admitted that he still loved her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the same thing. She was crazy about him. He consumed her every thought of every waking moment of every single day.

She stood up, being as quiet as she could she tip toed out of the room. She knew it was damn early, maybe just after 5 am, but she also knew Harry would be alone. Trisha had been leaving at 4 am every morning to go work at the Ministry, apparently things had been quite hectic in the department of finance. It was wrong what she was about to do, but she couldn’t help herself.

She stealthily walked up two flights of stairs, walked down a hallway and come to the third door on the right. Harry’s room. She held her breath as she slowly twisted the door handle and stepped into the room, gently closing the door behind her. His room was still dark, but she could see the outline of his body still fast asleep in his bed. Best part was that he was alone, just as she knew he would be.

She walked over to his bed and sat down beside him, her hand reaching up and stroking the side of his face softly. As he began to stir, she watched him in awe. He was amazing. He was the only person she knew who could look so tough and yet so innocent while they slept. She felt content while next to him, like nothing could ever harm her or hurt her again.

She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I still love you.”

Harry’s eyes shot open at once and his eyes locked on hers. “What did you say?” he asked in a horse voice.

She kept her eyes on his, not breaking the gaze. “I love you,” she repeated.

Without words he reached up and pulled her chin gently towards him and kissed her softly. His lips only brushed hers and he heard her whimper slightly. He deepened the kiss, the tip of his tongue teasing her closed lips. She opened her mouth slightly, inviting his tongue to play against hers. His hands were on her legs and sliding upwards, grabbing the hem of her shirt and only breaking the kiss to pull it up over her head.

His eyes roamed over her body and then back to her eyes. “What are we doing?” he asked suddenly.

“What’s right. We belong together and if I have to spend everyday making up for walking out then I’ll do it. I‘m so sorry for everything I‘ve done and haven‘t done.”

“Forgiven,” he smiled a bit and pulled her down again, their lips locking once more. She reached down and slid off his boxers, their now naked bodies pressing against each other. Hands roamed, tongues met. Both lost with in each other.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“But I have to go to work....” Harry sighed, pulling himself out of bed with regret.

“You can fake your sick and stay here with me,” Isabella sat up, Harry’s sheets wrapped around her naked body.

He leaned down after pulling on a clean pair of boxers and kissed her forehead. “You know I’d love to. But this is a huge case and I need to be there.” She smiled at him and he raised his eyebrows. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing... ok well, it’s just I’m proud of you. You proven yourself as big shot Auror. So yeah, I’m just proud.”

He smiled back and finished pulling on his clothes. “Thanks,” he said. He attempted to straighten his trade mark hair, but soon gave up. “So tonight when I get home from work it’s going to happen.”

She nodded. “Yep... tonight. I can’t wait,” they kissed goodbye and Harry took off down the stairs to head for work.

After about ten more minutes of laying around, Isabella got redressed in her pajama’s and headed back up to her room. When she opened the door, Draco was just coming out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a small white towel. Their eyes met and she quickly turned her back.

“Sorry!” She called out, a grin spreading on her face. She wasn’t going to deny it, he had an amazing body.

“It’s ok. Where were you? Why do you look so... so happy?” Draco asked, confusion in his voice.

“I was getting a snack. I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep,” she said without missing a beat.

“O...kay...” Draco said, obviously not believing her. “I’m decent. You can turn around now.”

When she turned back around he was just finishing putting on a dress shirt. She walked over to her bed and sat down on it, watching him comb his hair and then pull out his wand to get out the rest of the creases in his pants, shirt and robe. She began to feel a little guilty. Since she had gotten home she had been getting closer and close to Draco and now she was going to end whatever budding relationship they had. He genuinely seemed like he wanted to be with her, she just hoped he understood.

“Going somewhere?” she finally asked.

He turned to her and nodded. “Yeah, have a few meetings down at the Ministry. I’ll be home for dinner though,” he said. He walked over to her and kissed her forehead. “See you later.”

She nodded. “Bye.”

A wave of loneliness washed over her. The house was silent again and she started to freak out. What if she heard those strange noises again or see her parents again. She wished her friends didn’t have to work so much, and even more so she wished they were her friends again.

She found herself scrambling to get dressed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and then she found herself running down the stairs as fast as she could. She’d find Dobby and spend the day with him. Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all. When she reached the main floor, something in the living room caught her eye.

“Hey! You two are home,” Isabella smiled, stepping into the living room and standing in front of Ron and Hermione.

Both Ron and Hermione stopped talking to each other and stared at her, a little fear in both their eyes.

“Yes... day off,” Ron finally answered. “Um... you’re not going to yell at us are you?”

Izzy shook her head and sat on the coffee table in front of them. “No... not at all. I’m so sorry for how I reacted. I could list off about a million excuses, but none would justify my behavior.”

Ron blinked and Hermione’s mouth hung open a little. Finally Hermione jumped up and hugged Isabella.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” she asked with a laugh.

“Yes! Yes! Of course. Ronald and I are sorry too. You’re our friend and we should have stuck beside you no matter what,” Hermione pulled back a little and smiled at her friend.

“So come on. Out with it. Why are you all smiles?” Ron asked as Hermione sat back down next to him and Izzy sat on the table again.

She silently grinned like a fool for a moment, but could no longer contain herself. “Harry and I are getting back together!”

“What!?!” Ron’s booming voice over powered Hermione’s shriek.

Izzy nodded, her smile widening as Ron and Hermione beamed back at her. Nothing more needed to be said. The looks on her friends faces told the whole story. Things were beginning to fall back into place and were becoming right again.

“I feel semi guilty though... cause I kinda went into his room this morning and he and I kinda slept together...”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, when the living room door creaked. All three looked at each other and then at the door. Isabella’s heart was pounding; it was happening again, except this time she had witnesses. She stood up, walked slowly over to the door, braced herself and then swung it open. No one was there.

“Must have been the wind,” she muttered out loud. She turned back to her friends and smiled again. “Who’s up for my world famous pancakes?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What had seemed like a silent gust was not was it seemed. Trisha had been standing behind the door and had heard every single word that was said. She had nearly gotten herself caught too when she leaned on the door and it creaked. She had quickly apparated back to the ministry and hid herself away in her office.

“So... you think you’ve gotten my man back?” Trisha muttered to herself, while staring at a picture of Isabella in Witch Weekly. “Little Miss Perfect wins again? I think NOT!” She ripped the picture in two and then stood up.

No, she wasn’t about to let Isabella win. She was going to fight for Harry and she was going to fight dirty. She spent the rest of her day concocting a plan that would insure she’d have Harry for the rest of their lives and leave Isabella miserable and alone. She deserved to be miserable and alone.

“I’ve worked too hard to make him forget about you... too hard,” Trisha sat wide eyed and alone in her office, a smile playing on her lips.

Finally at around four pm that day, she packed up her things and apparated back into the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. She put on her usual perky smile as she saw the residence of the house were gathered around the kitchen table. She felt a stab of jealousy as she saw Isabella sitting next to Harry.

“Hi!” She said brightly, walking over to Harry, leaning down and planting a kiss on his lips. “I missed you sooooo much today, Harry!”
“Listen... Trisha, we need to talk...” Harry said, sounding serious and none too enthused about the talk they were about to have.

“Yes, we do. I have the most amazing news to share with everyone!.”

“Oh boy...” Isabella muttered while rolling her eyes.

“Right... well you and I have had a good thing...relationship together, but I think now it’s time to....”

“Oh, Harry... I know, I love you too,” Trisha cut him off.

“You’re not listening to me, I haven’t finished,” Harry replied.

“And she’s not going to, yappy little thing aren’t you, Trisha?” Izzy interrupted this time.

“And you’re miserable and jealous,” she replied sweetly.

“Jealous?” Izzy snorted. “Of what?”

“My wonderful news! Harry, we’re having a baby!”

“WHAT!?!” Both Harry and Isabella yelled at the same time. Trisha tried her best to keep a smug look off her face as she caught sight of the look of horror on Isabella’s face.

“I know, it was a surprise to me too. But it’s so wonderful! We’re going to be so happy, Harry, aren’t we?”

“I’m shocked right now, Trisha. To be perfectly honest I wasn’t expecting this,” Harry rubbed his face with his hands, as though he was trying to have it all make sense. He looked up at her.

“Harry... nooo...” Isabella looked a him and then kneeled in front of him. “Please no.”

Harry glanced at Isabella and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant for this to happen.”

Trish stared blankly at the two of them, but then shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Aren’t you happy, Harry?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll need to get married,” he said, avoiding Izzy’s eyes.

“No. No no no no... this is all I dream. Harry, you can’t,” Isabella pleaded in a low voice.

“I’m sorry...Izzy, I have to,” he whispered in a horse, strained voice.

“Is there something going on I should know about?” Trisha asked.

“Nothing,” Isabella snapped, standing up and turning to leave the kitchen. Her sadness appeared to have vanished and in it’s wake left an angry, bitter woman. Draco was just walking in as she was barging out. He caught her by her shoulders, her whole body shaking. Maybe from rage or maybe from something more. Either way her whole world was shattered.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.

“Let’s go.... now... somewhere,” she took his hand and pulled him from the kitchen.

Trisha was beaming inside. Victory was hers. He glanced at Harry, he looked miserable and defeated and heart broken. She didn’t care though, soon he would come to love her as she loved him and he’d realize they were meant to be together. He’d soon learn that he wouldn’t live without her and he’d forget he had ever met Isabella Black.

The rain poured down in sheets for days on end and it didn’t help to lift the black mood that hung over Grimmauld Place. Darkness seeped out of every doorway and every wall, infecting everyone who got in it’s way. Even with the lights on, fires burning in the fire places, and the weak smiles from Ron and Hermione, nothing would ever make the house bright again.

The scene looked extremely familiar to Isabella. She once again sat on her window ledge and stared outside. It was midday, but since the weather was so dreary it was already dark out. Tears were rolling silently down her cheeks and her whole body ached. What ached the most was her heart. In the past week she felt like it had been placed back in her chest only to be ripped out and stomped on repeatedly.

A heavy sigh heaved from her chest and she watched the rain stream down the window and hit the pavement on the street below. The pitter patter of the rain on the roof was the only noise with in the dreary house. Something stirred, but she paid no attention.

“Another gloomy Sunday,” Draco announced from Isabella’s doorway.

She jumped a little as the voice cut through the silence. She quickly straightened up and wiped her remaining tears away. “Yeah.... it sure is.” It was weak, but she had no more words in her.

He came over and sat on the ledge with her, wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed into them, leaning her head back onto his chest. He seemed to be her only source of comfort these days and the more time she spend with him the more confused she got. He treated her like a goddess. He deserved to be more than just someone's rebound, which she felt like he was these days. But deep down there were real feelings fighting their way to the surface.

“You should come downstairs... to the kitchen and get something to eat. Dobby can make something,” Draco suggested, stroking Isabella’s long, dark hair.

“Not hungry.”

“Will’s home.”

“Ok...” Izzy untangled herself from Draco’s arms and took off the stairs and flew into the kitchen.

“So then she says to me...” Will was caught off guard by his sister swooping into the room and smiling at him. He had been gone for a week and a half on a business trip. He was partners with Fred and George and the three of them together had built an empire beyond everyone's expectations.

“You didn’t come and say hi to me,” Izzy said, still smiling.
“Sorry... blame Fred and George. They apparently heard I hooked up with a right cute bird while on my trip so I was being asked about it,” Will replied, sounding rather proud of himself.

“Hmm... so talking about sex is much more important than saying hello to your baby sister. Typical male.”

They weren’t alone in the kitchen. Gathered around the table was of course Will, Fred and George as well as Harry, Ron, Hermione and now Draco of course, ever faithful at being at Isabella‘s side. Things felt relaxed and comfortable for the first time in days. Most likely because Trisha wasn’t there to ruin the upbeat mood.

“Well sometimes, yes. Why ruin a good memory by seeing the face of my innocent sister?”

“Innocent... yeah, that’s me alright.” Isabella took a seat next to Hermione at the table and the two girls glanced at each other, smirks on their faces.

“Let’s play a little game...” Will raised his eyebrows up and down, a grin on his face.

“What kind of game?” Only Harry had the guts to ask him.

“Since we’re talking about sex already we can call this game “Questions”. Were we ask questions about each others conquests.”

“Gross! I do NOT want to know what you’ve done, William,” Isabella scoffed.

“Oh come on Izzy... you were abroad for two years. A young, single and attractive model. You cannot tell me you were celibate for two years. I know you‘re not that much of a prude”

“How would you know? You remember school, right? I was always called a prude,” Isabella shot back at him.

“Well, there was weekend with Oliver Wood,” Fred piped up.

“FRED!” Isabella’s cheeks flushed.

“And don’t forget about the time with Fred...”

“GEORGE!”

This time the room went silent and Isabella covered her face. Fred smirked as he saw the envious look written all over Draco’s face. His smirk soon died when he saw the murderous looks on Will and Harry’s faced.

“What? You‘re not serious, right?” Will asked.

“Er.... yeah. Oliver and I were in Dublin the same weekend and he’s hot so.... we spent a weekend together as Fred said,” Isabella said, trying to conceal her amusement.

“And what about Fred?” Draco asked, using every ounce of energy in his body to remain calm, but he was still shaking from rage.

Isabella glanced at Fred and they both laughed nervously. “Yeah... him too. It was nothing.”

“Oh my god! I seriously hate you right now, Fred. You did my sister. Nice.”

“Oh come on, William. You asked. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea cause now friends are going to hate friends and I’m looking more and more like a slut,” Izzy pouted.

“Three men doesn’t make you a slut, Izzy,” Hermione said, coming to Isabella’s defense like a true friend. “But I was wondering... how was Oliver.”

“’Mione!” Ron exclaimed, sounding hurt.

By this time the whole ludicrous situation had everyone in a fit of giggles, even Draco, Harry and Will had to laugh despite themselves.

“If you must know I was a little disappointed. You figure cause he’s a big, strong Quidditch player he has to have lots of stamina, right? Wrong. But then I figured it was just an off night for him maybe, since it was after a game and all, so I gave it another shot the next night... and no... still disappointed.”

“Right... well thanks for the analysis and details. A simple “he sucked” would have sufficed,” Hermione laughed.

“I’ll never look at Oliver the same way again,” Fred shook his head. “So, um, Izzy, how was I?”

Isabella put her head in her hands and groaned. “Fred! Please, please don’t drag me into this situation. Next thing we know Harry will be asking me how he was too.” Although she sounded distraught, a smile still lingered on her lips.

“Naw, I’m not going to ask you that Izzy, we were with each other for three years, I know enough. Draco, aren’t you going to ask her that too? Oh, right, my bad, you haven’t had her.”

And with Harry’s few words the room went silent and the upbeat mood was broken. Izzy shifted her eyes to glance at Draco and his face was bright red with anger and embarrassment. How is it that Fred managed to get her in bed but not him? He was Draco Malfoy. Everyone wanted him.

“Harry, you prat,” Isabella hissed as Draco got up to leave the kitchen.

“What? Why are you mad? You should be happy you haven’t slept with him, Merlin knows what you’d catch with all the trash he’s been with.”

“That’s not the point Harry. You don’t hear me goading your precious Trisha on. When are you going to learn to watch that mouth of yours?” With that, Izzy stood up and turned to walk away from the table to go find Draco.

Harry was up just as quickly and grabbed her waist, turning her around, pelvis to pelvis, eyes locked on eyes. “Don’t go running after him, he’s not worth it.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” She put her hands on his shoulders so she could push herself away from him, but she couldn’t do it. She didn’t want to be away from him.

“You deserve better. Someone who’s not going to use you, someone who loves you for everything that you are. How your nostrils flare ever so slightly when you’re upset or stressed. How you pout when things don’t go your way. How you snort on occasion when laughing hard. Someone who knows your dreams and you fears and who can wipe your tears away when you’re sad,” Harry said, genuine love and concern written all over his face and in his voice.

“You. You’re who I need and who I want but I can never have that. Never. So I need to move on and I need to try and get over you. I’m to blame for this. I should have never walked out on you. If I hadn't it could have been me having your baby instead of that...”

The kitchen door swung open and Trisha walked in, her eyes set in fury as she saw Harry holding Isabella so tenderly in his arms and her hands resting against his shoulders, their eyes locked in a gaze. “What the hell is going on in here?” Trisha snapped.

“Nothing,” Isabella pulled away from Harry.

“You’re a liar, you know that? Ever since you’ve been back you’ve been trying to come between us. Meddling in our relationship and flaunting your perfect body in his face, doing all the things that attracted him to you in the first place. But let me tell you something Isabella Black, nothing will come between Harry and me anymore. I’m carrying his child, a bond that cannot be broken by a deceiving whore like YOU!.”

The silence was so clear that you could have heard a pin drop. Instead of taking the bait and yelling back at Trisha, Isabella just smiled, a sweet and innocent yet evil smile. “Yes, and how convenient. On the very day Harry is going to kick your sorry ass to the curb you announce you’re pregnant,” she said very calmly. She then leaned in very close to Trisha to whisper in her ear. “Calling me deceiving? Like the pot calling the kettle black. Remember one thing I’m watching you.”

Trisha remained silent, and she could have sworn everyone in the room could hear the rapid beating of her heart. With one last glance at her now sworn enemy, Isabella left the room, the kitchen door swinging behind her. She walked up the stairs and found Draco in her room, laying on the couch and reading a magazine.

“Why are you smirking?” Draco asked, sitting up and making room for her next to him.

“I have Trisha worried. She’s up to something and I’m going to find out what it is,” she replied, sitting down, her mind racing a mile a minute.

“Hey Remus... can I talk to you?” Isabella poked her head into the kitchen.

“Of course. Anytime,” he answered and gestured for her to sit down at the table.

She chose a seat across from him and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and resting her head on the palms of her hands and her elbows on the table. She was glad Remus and as well as Tonks had agreed to come over for dinner that night, in fact a lot of people would be coming over in “celebration” of Harry and Trisha’s baby, though many were none to happy about it. Remus had arrived early to help set up and catch up.

“You know I hold you in the highest regard and you’re like a father figure to me, right? And I appreciate how you... how you took care of me after...” Izzy asked. She couldn’t finish her last sentence.

“After your father die... I mean disappeared. Yes, I know and you know I’d do anything for you and your brother,” he smiled a little at her. He and others had learned through out the past few years not to use the word died or dead in front of her since she refused to believe Sirius was gone.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Look, I know everyone things I’m a nutter for refusing to believe that he’s dead, but I’m convinced he’s still alive. I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the night in the attic,” she said, referring to her encounter with her mother and her father.

“Yes, William filled me in.”

Isabella nodded. “Of course he did. I know it’s ludicrous since we all saw me take down Celia, but it’s very possible she could be alive. Merlin only knows what she was or is capable of. As for my father and that veil, no one saw his body, no one knows what’s behind it or where it leads to.”

“Valid points, but you can’t honestly say that deep down in your heart you believe they’re alive,” he said.

“But I can. I know it, but I didn’t want to talk to you about the possibilities of them being alive or not, but rather what their relationship was like. How did they meet? How did they fall in love? Everything.”

“I always wondered when you’d ask me this. I suppose no one knew them, besides themselves of course, better than me. You’re a bright and curious girl, well woman now, and I’m glad you came to me rather than someone else,” he clasped his hands on the table.

“That’s why I came to you. I know you’d tell me the truth, no matter how ugly it is.”

“It wasn’t always ugly, their relationship I mean. As you know Celia was a Hogwarts student, Slytherin, but she was nothing like the rest of them. She never followed the crowd or did what others told her to do,” he started off.

“Hmmm... funny how that changed so quickly,” Isabella cut him off. “Sorry....”

“Despite what you know of her, she wasn’t always the way she ended up. Now I can continue, but only if you let me tell things the way I remember.”

“Fair enough, go on.”

“Alright, I start from first year. Of course you know how your father, James, Peter and I met and became friends, so I won't bore you with that. I can still remember the first time we all laid eyes on your mother. First class of year one, Herbology, we were all goofing around waiting for Professor Sprout...”

“Wow... she was around back then too? Gosh, she must be ancient now. Er, sorry Remus,” she smiled a little sheepishly.

“Yes, Isabella, she was. So we were waiting for Professor Sprout and in walked this girl, this stunning girl. She turned every head in the room. Her uniform was too big for her, her books were second hand and her shoes scuffed but the way she carried herself with her head held high was something else.”

“Wait a minute, Voldemort was her father, couldn’t he afford to get her a proper uniform a new books?” Isabella asked, her fingers absently twisting her hair around a finger.

“True, he probably could have, but when your grandmother, Celia’s mother, found out about Voldemort’s ways and views she took Celia and went into hiding.”

“And he couldn’t track her down?”

Remus shook his head. “No, your grandmother is spectacular witch, with talents that could have easily matched or beaten Voldemort himself. That’s why Voldemort chose her to be the mother of his child. He found the best candidate, wooed her and then had a baby with her. He figured he’d be able to create the next generation of himself and continue his legacy.”

“But Dumbledore always said Voldemort was more of a loner, but liked to have minions, so to speak, to do his dirty work for him,” Isabella said.

“True, but he was a narcissist to the very core of his being. He wanted someone else like him. But, as I said, when Angelica, your grandmother found out, she took off with their daughter and into hiding. She provided the best that she could and when she felt they were safe enough she sent Celia off to Hogwarts. Celia was always quiet, also quite a loner, none of the Slytherin students wanted anything to do with her because she wasn’t like them. None of the students in the other houses wanted anything to do with her because she was a Slytherin. Even in first year, where everyone was awkward, she never was. She floated rather than walked and she had a grace to her that no one else in the school managed to have. Despite all the teasing and rejection by her peers she always kept her head held high. And despite her quietness she still managed to get a reputation, and I know you won't want to hear this, but she was called an ice queen.” Remus stopped and studied Isabella for any reaction.

“Number 2093 why Celia and myself are sooooooooo much alike,” she put sarcastic emphasis on the word “so”.

“I know you hating hearing it, but it’s true. Both of you faced ridicule day after day after day at school and never once snapped, instead you raised your heads higher and carried on, never showing for one minute that it bothered you. It’s admirable. I thank Merlin everyday that you didn’t inherit your fathers hot headedness, his stubbornness on the other hand is a different story,” he winked at her.

“So people teased her cause of her clothes and books, because she had no friends and because she was frosty? Why not tease her about the fact she had a raving lunatic as a father?”

“Because no one knew who her father was. It wasn’t until seventh year that we all found out, including herself. That’s right, just like you the ones who cared about her and loved her wanted to shield her from the truth. He mother never told her who her father was, just like you were never told who your mother was.”

“It’s hard to find out like that, you know? You almost feel betrayed by those around you, those who knew but never told you. I understand the whole wanting to protect us, but the truth always comes out and when it does it hurts us a lot more,” Isabella never thought she’d feel sorry for her mother, and yet here she was relating to her.

“We can only do what we think is right at the time and learn from our mistakes. We are, after all, only human. But I am sorry. I guess everyone felt that you knowing your father was in jail for murder was enough of a burden for you to carry on your shoulders. I remember how cruel the kids were to you in your third year when Sirius escaped from Azkaban, yet you never wavered, always claiming he was innocent.”

“Dad used to write me letters every week from prison, and every week since I could write I wrote back to him. I knew somewhere inside of me that a man who was capable of writing such kind letters could never be guilty of what he was accused of. And even though I never met him until I was thirteen years old I felt I had known him my entire life because of those letters. I still have the letters he sent me hidden away in my room and at night when three AM seems to last forever I pull them out and reread them and I don’t feel so alone,” she glanced down at the table as she spoke, the words getting caught in her throat.

“You’re never alone, your father once said that the ones who love us never really leave us, and it’s true,” Remus reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

Isabella nodded and then changed the subject. “You said she found out in seventh year, it must have been horrible, at least when I found out about my mother I had my friends to lean on. Celia had no one.”

“Not true, because by seventh year she had your father. By fourth year Celia blossomed. And it didn’t go unnoticed by a single male in Hogwarts. Her eyes were enchanting, she could either melt polar ice caps or refreeze them with one single glance. Again, much like yours. By fifth year Sirus was absolutely intoxicated by her. When he showed interest in her and asked her out, she turned him down,” Remus said with a smile, reliving the memory. “She knew of his rep with girls and didn’t think he was, excuse the bad pun, serious.”

Isabella giggled a little. “I bet he got that a lot... the bad pun I mean.”

“Naturally. She thought he was being put up to it by his friends. But he wasn’t prepared to give up, no, he was going to fight for her. So, he came up with a plan on how to win her heart and get her to be his date to the Yule Ball.”

“Wicked.... I remember how nerve wracking the bloody Yule Ball was when I went. So much fuss was made about who was going with who and who was wearing what,” Izzy said, a small smile gracing her lips.

“I bet you had boys lined up to ask you out. Who did you end up going with?” Remus asked.

She shook her head. “No, not a line up. I was a late bloomer, Remus. Very awkward and painfully shy that year. Ah, yes my date, the one guy to asked me. It was Seamus Finnigan who asked me, and we had a blast,” Isabella said. “ Now, not to be rude, but can you continue please?”

“Of course, of course. Right, where was I? Ah yes, the Yule Ball. Sirius had a plan and it included myself, James and Peter of course. He sent me to find a way to get Celia into the Great Hall. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to convince her that someone had written something nasty about another one of the girls and that Celia was being blamed. She came quickly to clear her name, but instead of writing on the wall she got Sirius with a bouquet of orchids, lilies, daisies and tulips, your mothers favorites, and he sang to her.”

“He sang to her? You’re joking right. That is so corny,” Isabella wrinkled her nose.

“She didn’t find it corny. It bloody well worked for him. She went to the Yule Ball with him and after that they were pretty much inseparable. She helped him with his homework, and he taught her to smile, to laugh, to love and most of all he melted her cold exterior.”

“Yet another thing that sounds so familiar to the story of my life. My father was her Harry.”

“Your father was her Harry,” he repeated. ” She taught him things too. She never tried to tame his wild ways, so to speak, but let him spread his wings and fly and be himself. They brought out the best in each other. When we graduated from Hogwarts they married with in the year, very young, only eighteen years old. With in the next year she became pregnant and had your brother the day after her twentieth birthday, you of course were born a year later.”

“I don’t understand. How could people two people so much in love end up so far...” she broke off. “Never mind, I do understand.”

“I know you do. I think you might know the rest of their story, but please let me finish. When you were three months old your mother had you and your brother to Diagon Alley, you were kidnapped from your pram. We searched for days and days, we had Aurors on it. Your father nearly went mad and your mother inconsolable. You were mysteriously returned three days later on the door step of your parents house, unharmed, but you had a mark on your arm.”

“The mark of protection...”

“Yes, the mark of protection. Like an unbreakable vow, it cannot be broken, but like so many spells and curses it has loopholes, ways to undo what’s been done. Of course it was only later on in your life did we know what it meant and why you were branded with it,” Remus let his eyes drift down to Isabella’s lower right arm. Her mark of protection was quiet beautiful now that it had been broken. When the spell was still in effect it was an all black lotus flower, much like a tattoo, but now that it was broken a vibrant burst of blue was eternally on her arm.

Isabella looked at her own arm. At one time in her life she was self conscious about it, never wanting anyone to find out who had given it to her and why. Just like a Patronus, everyone's took a different form. She liked hers and what it meant. She knew that the lotus grew out of the muddy depths of the Nile River and rises to the surface towards the sun. She had risen above all odds and she was still standing, blossoming, and beautiful.

“Your mother became obsessed with finding out who had given this to you and why. She started a search, using all the resources she had. When she returned from her search, she seem changed, distant and troubled. One could only assume it was because she had found what she was looking for.... Voldemort. I think deep down in her heart she always knew who it was. Whatever he said to her or done to her to convince her to leave her family behind no one will every know. With in a month of her coming back the Potter’s were murdered and your father sent to Azkaban for it,” Remus let a frown cross his face.

“And the rest is history,” Isabella said solemnly, then fell silent, taking in everything she had just heard. “Did you know right away what the mark was on my arm when I was a baby?”

“No, we didn’t. We found out the night your father was murdered,” he saw Isabella flinch. “Sorry. We only found out when one of the Death Eaters fired a killing curse and it hit you in the back and you didn’t die.”

“I was hit with a killing curse and no one bothered to tell me? I thought it was some hex that sent me to the ground in a fit of agony, but no, it was just a killing curse. Wow. If you had known from day one why I was protected would you have told me?”

Remus shook his head. “How can you tell anyone that? Isabella, I’m so sorry, you have no idea. But can you honestly tell me you’d tell someone you love like your own child that she’s one of the Horcruxes? Had I known I honestly don’t know what I would have done.”

“I can’t say either. I’m almost glad I found out myself, rather than from someone I trusted. And I’m even more relived to hear that no one knew. Only Voldemort and then myself.”

“You handled it all with dignity, Isabella. We were all so proud of you, and if Sirius was still around he’d be your biggest fan and the most proud of you,” Remus had to blink away tears.

“It wasn’t easy. I had a piece of Voldemort’s soul living inside of me for more than eighteen years. And when I found out it explained so much, things I felt that I can never put into words. I have a lot to think about and a lot to process.”

“Izzy, you’ve never told anyone how you found out or how you destroyed...uh....”

“That part of me?” She finished his sentence for him. “I know I haven’t. Listen, I appreciate everything you’ve told me tonight. I know it was hard for you, he was your best friend, and you were all betrayed by someone who your trusted. But now you have to trust in me and know I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. We all know it changed you in ways we can’t imagine, but you’re still you. Your eyes are the same, I can still see your soul behind them,” Remus patted her arm and she stood up.

“Thank you,” she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. She walked to the kitchen door and opened it and then looked back. “I am still me, I just don’t know where I’m hiding.” And with that the door swung behind her and the sound of her going up the stairs faded out.

Harry slammed the shot glass down on the table and shook his head. “Aw, come on, no more,” he said to the men gathered around the kitchen table. “This is suppose to be an engagement party,” he pointed out.

“All the more reason for you to get drunk, Harry. You’re marrying a broad you can’t even stand,” Will pointed out, pouring Harry another shot of Fire Whiskey.

Harry lifted the glass and did the shot. “I’ll drink to that.”

Just then the kitchen door swung open and for a split second Harry thought he had been busted bad mouthing his fiancee, but it was Isabella who walked into the room. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh good, it’s only you. For a second we all thought Harry was about to lose his balls and furthermore his ability to father anymore bastard children,” Will said, slurring slightly.

“Yes, it’s only me, and charming, William, charming. I don’t know how you manage to have so many girls fall head over feet for you when you’re nothing more than a slobbering, slurring, drunk,” Isabella said. She turned to Harry. “So what were you saying?”

“I was drinking due to the fact I’m marrying a broad I can’t even stand,” he giggled a little, the effects of the alcohol obviously coursing through his body.

“Well, if you for once wouldn’t do the right thing you wouldn’t have to marry her. You know, I’d make an excellent step mother,” Isabella pointed out.

“Yeah...” Ron hiccupped slightly as he spoke. “Except for the fact you hate kids.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just hate some peoples kids,” she corrected him. “Does Hermione know you’re down here drunk? Cause I will tell her.”

Those words seemed to sober Ron up. “You’re a hard ass you know that, Izzy?”

“She does have a hard ass. I would know,” Fred piped up from the table, a bottle of Dragon Rum clutched in his hand.

Harry shot Fred a look, the little monster he liked to call jealousy was raging inside of his stomach. “Don’t talk about her like she’s some sort of an... what’s the word I’m looking for?” he asked.

“Object?” Will offered.

“That’s the one! Don’t treat her like an object,” Harry finished. “Why are you down here raining on my pity party? Where’s Draco?” he asked, disgust obvious in his voice as he said the other man’s name.

“He’s up in my room.... too exhausted to come down from when I had my way with him earlier,” she shot back sarcastically.

“You’re joking, right? If ferret boy touched you in anyway... sexually.... I’ll hurt him, I told him that too,” Harry took a swig right out of the Fire Whiskey bottle. His eyes watched her as she came over to him and put her hands on his shoulders and then leaned her face in close to his. He couldn’t help but let his heart leap with joy at the thought of the impending kiss.

“You’re drunk. You need to shut up, ok?” Isabella didn’t kiss him, but instead brought him back down to earth.

“Drunks can’t shut up...” Harry let out a giggle of sorts.

“You need to go to bed and sleep this off,” Izzy told him, meaning it too. She was concerned about his behavior.

“Yeah.... take me to my room... I’ll sleep it off,” he was speaking more and more slowly and becoming more slurred with every word. He tried to stand up but stumbled and if Isabella hadn’t been there to steady him, he would have fallen flat on his rear end.

“I’m going to take him up to his room, sober him and then we’ll be back. Keep the bitch, I mean Trisha, occupied and away from the room,” she said. “And while you’re at it, sober up, all of you.”

“Party popper...” Ron pouted.

Izzy quickly apparated with Harry up to his room to avoid the crowd of people gathered for the engagement party. She sat Harry on the bed and stood in front of him, shaking her head. From the bed he watched her, his eyes locked on hers.

“I’m going to get you some potion to make you sober,” she announced, turning to walk away from him.

“I’m fine, I’m not drunk,” he sighed a little, grabbed her hand, the slur gone from his speech.

“Just like that? You’re fine?” She looked at him, not pulling her hand away from his grip.

“Just like that,” he repeated. “I wasn’t really drunk, you fell right into my trap,” he grinned as he pulled her closer and then onto the bed next to him.

Isabella pulled away from him and shuffled off the bed, away from him. “Are you trying to torture me?” she asked him.

“Why would I want to do that?” He asked her.

“Revenge... trying to hurt me back, I don’t know. But I come home and you’re with her, and then next thing I know we’re back in each others arms and you plan on leaving that woman and now you’re going to marry her.”

“Hey, hey, that woman is having my child,” he pointed out, frustrated that Izzy wasn’t next to him, well for that matter frustrated that she wasn’t under him... or on top of him, either way just frustrated.

“How convenient, too. Far too convenient for my liking,” Izzy said.

“You think she’s faking it? Come on, Isabella, she wouldn’t,” Harry said, refusing to hear what his she had to say. He stood up and went over to her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him, his eyes closing as he breathed in her scent.

She thought about pulling away from him, but didn’t. She wrapped her arms around him, her head buried into his shoulders, slumping against him. “Harry... we need to stop this, you made your bed and now you have to lie in it,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

He pulled back slowly, his eyes searching her face. He reached up and brushed away a tear with his finger. “Goodbye, Izzy,” he kissed her lips softly and then turned from her. He opened the door and she heard his footsteps down the hallway and then down the stairs as he went to join his engagement party.

She quickly fled his room, down the two flights of stairs and into her room. She closed and locked the door behind her and flung herself on the bed, sobbing hard. She knew she deserved this. It was karma coming back to bite her in the ass. She had left him, walked out on the one person who loved her for who she was. And now she would have to watch in silence as he now put a ring on her finger and watch her as she had his child, if she was really pregnant at all.

She sat up awhile later and looked at herself in the mirror. Was she just going to give up? To push away her gut feeling and let Harry make the biggest mistake of his life? No, she already had Trisha watching over her shoulder, knowing that Isabella would be right behind her every step of the way. Black’s didn’t give up, and though she had run in the past, Isabella wasn’t going to run this time.

It was time she started being Isabella Black again, the fighter. The girl who didn’t back down. The girl who helped destroy the most powerful and evil wizard of their time, Lord Voldemort. To be the girl who was willing to die for what she believed in. The girl who rose to a challenge. Yes, she could be that girl again.
She pulled herself off the bed, quickly tied her hair up away from her face. She went to her closet and pulled open the doors and with a quick flick of her wand she had changed into a stunning black and white cocktail dress. Hell, she at least wanted to look good at this farce of an engagement party. With one last glance in the mirror, she left her room, a newly found spring in the step of her high heeled shoed feet.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back downstairs Trisha watched as all eyes left her and her 2.3 carat diamond engagement ring as Isabella walked into the room. She wanted to fly across the room and wipe the regal smile and class right off her perfect face. Who did she think she was anyway? Showing up to HER party like that? Tricia walked over to Harry and wrapped her arms around him. She felt him stiffen, and his eyes slowly pulled away from Izzy and landed on her face.

“Let’s say we sneak off and go up to our room for a bit,” Trisha purred into his ear.

He shook his head and pulled away from her, the smell of alcohol still lingered on him. “No,” he said simply and then sighed a little when he saw the look of her on her face. “I just mean we should think about the baby, don’t want to hurt it.”

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes and smacking him up side the head. “Oh right... but it wont hurt it, healers and Muggle doctors say so,” she insisted.

“Not right now. This is a party, we’re the hosts, so no, Trisha,” Harry said shortly.

Trisha sucked in air through gritted teeth and then turned from him, forcing a smile on her face.

“So, Trisha, when exactly are you due?” Izzy asked, a glass of wine in her hand, Draco at her side. The two of them looked so smug together. Raven haired beauty queen and a blonde haired snob.

“Oh, uh, um, I don’t know. Sometime in December,” Trisha felt all eyes turn on her.

“Sometime in December?” Isabella repeated. “You seem unsure at of that. Most women know the exact date their healer tells them they’re due. It’s hardly rocket science,” she raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Well, I haven’t seen one yet,” Trisha admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “I did a home charm and discovered it that way... and I used my math skills and figured out when I must have conceived in March.”

“Hmm... I see,” Izzy replied slowly, sipping her wine. “So by your calculations you’re now four months along... and wearing a tight dress and your stomach is flat as ever.”
Trisha felt her face burn red with rage. “Oh, I expect I’ll be showing any day now,” she said brightly, pushing her rage down.

“I expect you will,” Isabella said, a smirk playing on her lips. She then raised her wine glass. “Here’s to Harry and Trisha. May Merlin bless them with a long, happy life together.”

The other guests seemed to let out a collective breath. It seemed all were holding it in as Trisha and Isabella had their little conversation. Trisha smiled weakly as she lifted her glass full of juice, and glance around the room. Harry couldn’t even muster a smile or even the ability to raise a glass for Izzy’s empty toast.

“Excuse me, I don’t feel very well,” Trisha said quietly, with a small, forced smile on her face. She had to walk past Isabella and Draco to get out the door, and as she walked past she had an urge to claw Izzy’s eyes out and the holier than thou smile off her face.

Trisha quickly made her way upstairs and into her and Harry’s room. She sat on the bed, her head in her hands, her temper at the boiling point. She rose from the bed and picked up her wand. She imagined Izzy’s face on the wall and blasted a random curse at it, sending pictures and drywall crashing to the floor. Lucky for her, the party downstairs was loud enough and she was enough floors up not to draw any attention.

“All about the stupid baby, isn’t it?” She hissed at her reflection in the mirror. “Can’t hurt the baby... when is the baby due... why aren’t you showing?”

She started to pace the room back and forth, her mind racing a mile a minute. “Think, Trisha, think,” she muttered under her breath. “You can pull this off... just need to figure out how... get him to the alter and...”

“Well, well, well,” A voice spoke from the edge of the door frame. “So you are faking it,” Draco stepped into the room, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“What... no....” Trisha shook her head, her face whiter than his.

“I heard everything, I know everything and I would love to blow your sorry ass out of the water. Trapping a man into a loveless marriage, and not even carrying his child. Tacky, very tacky,” Draco said, a sneer on his lips.

A light bulb seemed to go on in her head and color once again was in her cheeks. “If you tell on me, then you lose Isabella,” she said calmly. “If I’m gone, what’s going to stop Harry from being with her and her being with him?” she asked.

Draco was silent, his eyes narrowing. He shook his head slowly. “Damn it, you’re right,” he said, like he was speaking to himself. “Potter can’t always win.”

“You love her, don’t you Malfoy?” Trisha asked, circling him like a predator would it’s prey. “You help me pull this off and I help you win Isabella.”

“No. I can’t. The old Draco would have, but I... Harry’s my friend,” though he said no, it was written all over his face that he wanted to say yes.

“A friend who wouldn’t think twice before stealing back the woman that you love, Draco. A women that you’ve fought so hard for. She’s so close now you can taste her... except she’s just out of your reach. I can help you, you know I can help you,” Trisha spoke, her words hitting every nerve in his body.

“And what do I have to do?” he asked her. “What’s your big plan? Get him to marry you and then reveal you’re not pregnant? He wouldn’t hesitate to leave you, you realize that, right? He doesn‘t love you, nobody loves you.”

“No, get him to marry me and then lose the baby,” there was a hint of joy in Trisha’s voice. “He couldn’t leave me then, I’d be far too emotional and he’d feel too sorry for me to leave me,” she explained. “All you have to do is make sure he gets to our wedding day and convince everyone I really am pregnant. And he does love me, he will love me!”

“What are you going to do? Curse yourself into having your stomach grow?” Draco asked, disgusted at what she was planning, but not disgusted enough not to go along with it.

“Don’t worry your pretty little rich head over it. Just keep your mouth shut and you will have Isabella, now do we have a deal?” she asked, holding out her hand for him to shake.

Without giving his conscience another though, he stuck out his hand and shook hers, sealing the deal.

“Does anyone else smell that?” Hermione asked as she sat down at the dining room table for a nice dinner with the every single one of the Weasley’s, Izzy and Will, Harry and Trisha, and Draco and his mother Narcissa.

Isabella raised an eyebrow and looked at her friend from across the table. “Smell what? I smell food... good food.”

“Come over here and get a whiff... it’s not food and it’s not good,” Hermione said, her nose wrinkled a little.

Isabella stood up, her hand on Will’s shoulder for support as her shoe heel caught in the thick carpeting, avoiding near disaster. “What?” she asked at all the faces struggling not to giggle. “I never said I was graceful,” she added with a grin.

By the time she had made it to the other side of the table, Ron was already up and sniffing around the air duct in the room. “It’s coming from over here,” he said. “It smells like...”

“Kreacher!” Izzy announced, joining Ron at his side. “I bet that vial little bastard left something in the vent before he kicked the can... of course we haven’t used the dining room for years....” she said, reaching up and pulling at the vent.

“You sure we want to open that now? Right before we eat? I don’t know about you, Iz, but I’m not ready to lose my appetite,” Ron said, his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll just mask the smell and then we can deal with it later.” With a flick of his wand the smell was temporarily gone and the two of them returned to their seats.

“Before we start eating this delicious meal, by the way Dobby, thank you, I would like to say a few things,” Arthur Weasley said, the murmurs in the room quieting down. “I would first like to make a toast to family. I feel very blessed that all my children are happy and settled and most of all alive,” he glanced at all his children seated around the table, pausing to give Percy a small smile. “And I feel blessed that Harry, Hermione, Will and Isabella are here today too, because Molly and I love you like you’re our own,” he saw the tears well up in Hermione and Isabella’s eyes. “Lastly, to our new found friends Draco and Narcissa. If you had asked me a few short years ago if I’d be sitting at a dinner table with both of you I would have said you were mad, but things change. So here’s to family and friendship,” he raised his glass and everyone else followed suit.

“I wanted to congratulate you, Mr. Weasley,” Draco spoke up after they had all had a sip from their glasses. “My father always said you’d become Minister of Magic over his dead body... I guess we never knew how serious he was.”

Isabella nearly spat her wine out of her nose at Draco’s comment, turning red from not laughing. Narcissa shot her son a nasty look and he raised his hands. “What? It’s true!.”

“Oh, I know Draco, believe me I know,” Narcissa commented. She raised her glass. “To you Arthur. We’ve never had a better Minister.” Again everyone raised their glass in another toast.

Finally they were able to dig into their feast of Cornish game hens, fresh vegetables from Molly’s garden, fresh bread that Bill and Fleur had baked earlier that afternoon, and roasted potatoes. For dessert Hermione and Isabella had baked a chocolate cake and made white chocolate mousse. Of course both were covered in flour by the end of it.

After everyone had finished eating and had had their fill of dessert, Dobby came and cleared the table with a snap of his fingers. Isabella let her eyes settle on Trisha, who’s belly had miraculously started growing the very next day after Isabella had pointed out that at four months along there should be some sort of a bump forming.

“I’m going to check that vent now,” Isabella announced after all their food had settled in their stomachs and everyone seemed to be relaxed and happy. She stood up, a hand on her full stomach, a sort of sleepy haziness had washed over her.

“You want a hand?” Ron offered, starting to stand up, but sat back down when he heard the reply of no.

Isabella was half listening to the conversations going on around her: Mr. Weasley, Percy, and Charlie discussing politics; Ron, Harry and Bill discussing Quidditch; Fred, George, and Will discussing women; Mrs.Weasley, Hermione, Fleur, Narcissa, and Trisha discussing babies and clothes; and Draco sitting silently and observing, throwing his two cents into Fred, George and Will’s conversation when he deemed it necessary.

She grabbed her wand that was sitting on top of a cabinet in the dining room and stood in front of the vent. She was feeling far too lazy to do any manual labor. With a quick, nonchalant flick of her wand the vent cover flew off and landing on the hard wood floor with a soft thud.

A puff of black soot came spilling out into the dining room, leaving a dark cloud hanging out over the room. Out of the black haze came a cloaked figure. Isabella was silent, her mouth hanging open as the body flew horizontally towards her, stopping before knocking into her, suspended in air. Slowly the body was stood up right, the hem of the cloak still a good two feet off the floor and the cloak fell away from the body. A blood curdling scream filled the room as the corpse of Celia Riddle hung in front of Isabella. Isabella screamed again, and as she did so the corpse turned into black butterflies that disappeared into thin air.

The whole room was silent except for the bone shattering sob that escaped Isabella’s body. Draco was the first one up and out of his seat. He ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could without crushing her. The rest of the room sat in stunned silence, faces white, mouths gaping open in shock.

“Shhh... it’s ok now, it’s ok,” Draco tried his best to sooth her, but nothing he did seemed to calm her down. She shook like a leaf and sobbed harder than he had ever heard anyone sob before. He glanced over to Will, silently begging for help.

William pulled his own shaking body out of his chair and made his way over to his sister and took her in his arms. “Izzy, it wasn’t real... it was an illusion... magic....” he didn’t know who he was trying to convince: himself or his sister. She wasn’t calming down though, so he glanced at Harry for help.

Harry lifted his head and let his eyes meet Will’s. He was just as stunned as everyone. Everyone was still stunned. Ron’s arms were around Hermione, as were Bill’s around Fleur. Narcissa’s hand was over her mouth. The only noise in the room was Isabella’s muffled sobs.

Harry slowly nodded at Will and pushed his chair back. He felt Trisha’s hand on his arm, trying to stop him from getting up. He shot her a look that clearly said “not now” without using any words at all. He rose from his seat and swiftly walked over to the Black siblings. Will pushed his sister gently into Harry’s open arms and stepped back. When he turned he was greeted by Mrs.Weasley’s waiting arms. He went to them and closed his eyes, feeling very vulnerable and weak. He hated that he wasn’t able to help his sister.

As soon as Isabella felt Harry’s arms around her she calmed down. She felt safe again, nothing would hurt her ever again when she was with him. He stroked her hair, and he felt her rapidly beating heart against his own chest slowing down as she became calmer. Her whole body ached from sobbing and she felt drained, but as she clung onto Harry everything seemed to hurt less.

“I’ll take you to your room,” Harry whispered, knowing the last thing Izzy needed was a bunch of people flocking around her, making sure she was ok. She was the type of person who liked to be left alone, or just be with him when she was upset. “I’ll be back in awhile,” he told Trisha, who looked furious.

“Can’t someone else look after her?” Trisha asked, sounding nasty, forgetting she was in a room full of people who still thought she was a sweet, nice girl, at least some of them still thought that.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t about you, Trisha,” he said, trying to sound calm. “Just one friend taking care of another,” he glanced at Hermione, silently telling her to keep Trisha occupied, so he was free to look after Izzy.

“No one does it like Harry,” a little voice spoke up. “You’ve taken him from me already, you’re going to marry him, you’re having his child. You have my life, you win, you have everything I want. Don’t take this from me,” Izzy said, her voice sounding hoarse.

Draco sat in his chair, looking as though he had been punched in the gut. She still wanted that git Potter and not him. How could he make someone fall in love with him? And how did he let that horrible woman, Trisha, convince him to break Isabella’s heart further. On the other hand if he tried harder he could make Isabella forget she ever knew Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy always got what he wanted. So he’d let her go tonight and in the morning he’d finally get what he wanted.

With no one else saying anything, even Trisha didn’t have a reply to what Isabella had said, Harry apparated with her into her room. He sat her down on the bed and closed the door behind them, locking it to ensure ultimate privacy. He turned back to her, shoulders hunched forward, head hung as she read a note that had been lying on her pillow. He assumed it was an old one from her father, bringing her some form of comfort.

“What is this?” Isabella asked, panic rising in her voice. “What the hell is this?” she repeated, thrusting the letter at Harry. “Look.”

He walked towards her, his heart thumping in his chest as he took the letter from her. His mouth went dry as cotton and his stomach dropped, a sick feeling washing over him. He glanced down at Izzy before continuing taking in the words on the parchment.

Isabella,

How did you like my little surprise in the dining room? I did it just for you. Consider this your final warning, your time is almost up. You escaped death twice before and it wont happen again. A new war is on this horizon, a new Dark Lord is about to up rise, and your days are number my sweet, icy daughter. Let my memory haunt you in your sleep and know that wherever you go I’m watching, waiting and counting down the moments until darkness rises again.

“Now do you believe me?” Isabella asked Harry, taking the letter back from him. “Really believe me,” she stood up in front of him.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I just saw, we all saw.... she was dead.... how?” his sentence was fragmented. “Do you really think she’s building up another army? Ready to take over as the new Dark Lord?” he asked her.

“I don’t know. It would be so like her... trying to recapture her father’s glory, avenge his death. You know there are people out there who still believe in his ideals,” she sat back down on the bed, her mind racing a mile a minute.

He sat down beside her, still feeling a little sick to his stomach. “Are you okay?” he asked her, studying her face for any sign of emotion. There was none. She had fallen back into Ice Queen mode. He fully expected her answer to be yes, she was fine.

Instead Isabella shook her head. “No... far from it,” she answered honestly. She turned her head, looking at Harry.

He reached out for her, fully intending to pull her in for a hug. Instead his lips somehow met hers and he was kissing her, hungrily. Without hesitation her body responded, kissing him back, her hands on his chest, then slowly wrapped her arms around the back of his neck. His hands found her sides, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. She was pressed into him, so close he could feel her rapid heart beat.

A hard knock at the bedroom door jarred both of them from their deep sleeps. Isabella sat up first, the sheet falling from her naked breasts. The knock was harder this time. “Izzy, come on, let me in,” Will’s voice called from the outside.

“Thank Merlin,” she whispered, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around herself. Leaving Harry searching for his boxers or anything to cover himself with. She opened the door just enough to let Will in.

“Are you two mad?” he hissed, looking at his sister wrapped in a sheet and Harry with a pillow in his lap. “I don’t believe it....” he shook his head.

“We didn’t mean for it to happen,” Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. This was way worse than the time he and Isabella were busted in the middle of having sex at Lupin’s house when Izzy was staying with him.

“But you don’t regret it. The tension is so obvious between you two, even Mrs. Weasley is noticing it. She asked me about it earlier.... for the love of Merlin this has to stop!” Will sounded exasperated. “You’re getting married, Harry, you have a child on the way, Trisha was right, it’s time for someone else to comfort her for once.”

Isabella looked at her brother, feeling like a knife had been stabbed in her chest. He hated Trisha. He of all people should want to see that woman go down in flames and see his sister happy again.

“You two have got to stop being alone together, it’s no good for either of you,” Will sighed, knowing his words were going to hurt Isabella, but he also knew the rational side of her was going to understand where he was coming from and that he was right. “What do you plan on doing? Having an affair for the rest of your lives?”

“I don’t think we thought about it,” Isabella replied, skillfully putting her clothes back on under the wrapped sheet. She tossed the sheet to Harry. She grabbed the letter off her bedside table and handed it to Will. “See, I was right, she’s back, and the even worse news.... we’re about to enter a new war,” she spoke quickly and left the room, announcing she was going to go for a walk. Alone.

When Isabella returned from her walk an hour and a half later she was ready to march in the door and agree with William. Her and Harry did have to stop seeing it each other, it was time they moved on once and for all and to consider what had happened earlier that night was their final goodbye. Instead of being greeted by her adopted family and friends she was greeted by darkness and absolute silence.

“Hello?” She called out as she stepped down the hallway, her wand at the ready. “Where is everyone?” she asked. It was far too early for everyone to be in bed.

She walked to the living room and was met by more darkness, but in the darkness she could make out the figures of her house guests tied up by magical blue glowing ropes. She ran into the room to help her friends, not sure who to go first, but heading to Will first.

He stared at her, and then suddenly found his voice. “Izzy, no! It’s a trap! Run!” he sputtered out.

She was about to open her mouth to ask him a series of questions but a powerful jinx threw her against the wall hard. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her wand, her reflexes almost cat like and just as quick as one. She stood up straight, wand at the ready, facing her attacker.

“You!” she hissed when she saw Celia Riddle standing before her, very much alive dresses in purple and black robes.

“Yes it’s me, dearest daughter,” Celia cackled a little. “I’ve come to finish you once and for all. Up in the attic was only a taste of what I have in store for you. And now all your friends can watch when you beg me to end your pathetic life.”

“And you expect me to just stand here and let you torture and then kill me? You are insane. I will fight back and I will win. Killed you once, Mother, I can do it again,” Isabella replied to her mothers words, the two of them circling the room, ready for the other ones attack.

“And you failed. I’m still here aren’t I?” she smiled, a deranged look in her eyes. Without any warning she sent a jet of red light from her wand in Izzy’s direction, and just as quickly Izzy fired one back, sending the first stream of light into the wall.

“You think you can out smart me old woman?” Izzy asked, standing in the center of the room. She quickly cast a blasting charm in the direction of the other woman that hit her in the middle of her chest, sending her flying backwards into the wall. She then cast Petrificus Totalus, running back to Will to break the ropes.

“You’re too rusty, Isabella, a weak little spell like that wont hold me back!” Celia screamed, breaking free from the spell. Before Izzy could move she felt excruciating pain wash over her as Celia screamed. “Crucio!!”

Isabella fell to the ground on her hands and knees, but she would not scream. She would not give Celia the satisfaction of hearing how much pain she was causing her only daughter. The curse seemed to intensify as the moments grew longer, but still she would not give in. With a shaking hand she started to reach for her wand, determined to fight through this, to not give in. She got her fingers on her wand when she heard someone run into the room.

“Stupefy!” A male voice yelled and the pain was gone, the curse had been broken. She heard Celia scream and then the sound as she Disapparated. The ropes on Celia’s hostages disappeared as well and she glanced at Will, who’s mouth was gaping open as he stared across the room to the door way.

She stood up slowly, raising her head to look at her savior. Her mouth didn’t hang open like the rest of the room’s or like her brothers. Instead she smiled and ran towards the man.

“Dad! I knew it! I knew you were alive!” her voice was strained not only from the pain she had endured, but from happiness. Sirius Black was very much alive and he opened his arms for his daughter, hugging her tight.