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.
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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.
House of Leaves by elegantlytwisted
Chapter Notes: This one took soooo long to write! I had mega writers block, but seeing all the commercials and such for the new movie and new book got me motivated to write again. Enjoy! Please review.