Author's note: So sorry for taking my time (years) on adding a new chapter. Life caught up with me and I've just started writing again. I hope to get more chapters out soon. In this chapter I've spent a bit of time introducing more of my OC's family. If people are interested I may post individual stories about them. Thanks! -El
Present Day:
McGonagall hadn't uttered a word upon finding her. With a flick of her wrist the room was set right and orders flew from her mouth as though she were a general commanding her troops. She hardly spared a glance towards the weeping witch, seemingly undisturbed by the apparent devastation rife within the small potions lab. To the passerby, she portrayed a cold, calculated exterior, and yet, when Arabella finally rose to her feet, a warm hand clasped her own and a tight squeeze let her know she would not go through this alone. She wondered briefly if the old man had ever told her of their meetings. The woman didn't look at all surprised by the wreckage. No censure was given, nor any acknowledgement of what had happened. The head of Gryffindor, still clasping her hand, steered her back to the infirmary, towards Bill.
Color slowly returned to his once beautiful face and each day his breathing became less labored. They were small victories, and the road ahead went on a great distance, however, in these moments hope began to rise up little by little, and with it, the confidence to look toward the future. What future could she imagine? Would it include Bill... peace? Arabella took every day that came, tending to the injured and caring for the sick. Her mind stayed in the present as she so rarely had the opportunity to lose her focus. Her nights, those undisturbed by whatever fresh hell the war presented, were spent looking to the past and reminiscing.
7 Years Before:
The summer after Charlie and Damian's commencement from Hogwarts was spent reliving the kiss, Bill's kiss, and the feeling of being tucked under his arm, laughing and sharing jokes only understood between the two of them. The interaction didn't last very long; a few minutes at most. When she played it back in her mind, the moment stretched indefinitely. Bill's smile tended to have that effect on a girl, or maybe it was her fourteen-year-old brain trying to comprehend the experience.
She'd learned early on that her thoughts were best not to be shared with her older sister Adriana. Having lost her fiancé during the last reign of Voldemort, she was left bitter and spent the majority of her time at the ministry, locked in her office, away from the world. Adriana wasn't one to encourage the "silly notions" of happily ever after, as she'd lost any chance of her own. A confidant was found however, in the form of Abigail Cornish, her brother Damian's girlfriend.
Abby, a Gryffindor and chaser for her house team, had come into their lives as a third year at Hogwarts, long before she and Damian became an item. Her parents were killed during a raid held by what was left of Voldemort's fallen ranks. The surprise shown by the family at Damian's insistence that she stay at McBraiden Castle was nothing compared to the shock felt by the student body of Hogwarts, as the two were often seen deep in argument both on and off the quidditch pitch. Nevertheless, she came, and in no time was seen as another member of the family. As a Gryffindor and friend to the Weasleys, she made for the perfect confidant.
With much caution she revealed to Abby the correspondence between her and Bill, and with a glimmer of adolescent hope, she sought the older girl's advice. A bit of good-natured ribbing followed as Abby teased her on her choice of Weasley.
"Merlin! You don't play games do you?" Abby crowed with a look of shock on her face. "Going straight for the pick of the litter. Head Boy, smartest, tallest, and most handsome to boot." She kidded.
"If you've got him taking time out of his day to write every week, I'd say he's at least a friend." "You better finish school before you think of anything else though." And the pat on the shoulder followed by a slightly conspiratorial smile was all the encouragement she needed. The last few months, before school began and Abby made her way to Holyhead for the start of the quidditch season, were spent waiting on letters from Bill and anticipating the excitement of knowing she had her very first girl friend to share them with.
Present Day:
In her adolescent mind she believed that the moment she graduated from Hogwarts and became an "adult", Bill would come running and their friendship would immediately blossom into something new and beautiful; something akin to one of the many fantasies her imagination thought up over the years. Reality was vastly different. While She and Bill continued to correspond, sending small gifts and pictures over the four years between her graduation and now, no attempt was made to change the nature of their relationship. After the first year a thought began to settle in her mind. Bill seemed to be quite content to count Arabella as a friend, perhaps a good friend, but nothing more.
Life had continued on despite her fairytale failing to come true. She'd graduated, found work as a Healer at St. Mungos, and was given free reign as a specialist in potions. Adriana continued to work for the Department of Mysteries, keeping herself apart from the rest of the world. Damian and Abby were married now, both making a name for themselves in the quidditch world. Her Father finally retired from the ministry after a thirty-year career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and spent much of his time with her mother traveling, or traipsing about their large, empty home. As she slowly became used to the idea that her life would not include a romantic relationship with Bill, and kept herself busy, caring for the wounded, her world came crashing down as the battle was brought to Hogwarts.
She felt guilty as she sat once again in the chair beside his bed. These last few days brought with them despair, tragedy, and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Despite all of this, she counted herself lucky to have these last few days with him, to sit in a room just the two of them, to reminisce back to a time when she was hopeful. What would the future bring now? Had anything changed? When he woke, would he be happy to see her? Perhaps it was best to keep her mind on the present. What good would it do to think of the past? All of these questions ran through her mind as she made her way to the door. She would save them for another day, a day when she had to face them.
All at once her breath caught in her throat as a weak voice struggled to utter a single word.
"Bells?"