A/N: Thanks a ton to all of you who reviewed last chapter! So, I realized, as I was going back through some old chapters of Family Ties 1 and 2 that I have Abby turning four a few days after Sept. 1st, but that would mean that she would have only turned eleven in this story after Aria, Sean, and Jake left for their seventh year of Hogwarts, meaning she would just be starting her first year at the end of this summer. So I'm going back and editing that. She turned twelve just a few days after starting her first year at Hogwarts, so she'll be turning thirteen in September. Just wanted to clear that up.

Okay, on with the story now!

Chapter Fourteen: Lonliness

Aria

Sunday morning I awake to find glorious blue, cloudless skies outside my window overlooking the backyard. I smile happily at this – a perfect day. I grin out at the sky and pull on a pair of Muggle jeans and a tank top before heading downstairs to see what's for breakfast. As I walk across the big open area leading to the stairs, my eyes happen to move across the closed door of Jake's room. My heart stutters erratically for just a second before taking off double-time.

I pause at the head of the steps, still watching the door as though half expecting the knob to turn and Jake to walk out with his hair sticking up all over the place, his face a half-asleep mask. After an entire minute of nothing, I shake myself. Why would I even think something like that? Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I start downstairs.

Keira is setting two plates of pancakes down on the table for Abby and Henry when I get to the kitchen. She smiles at me as I sit down across from them and hands me a plate as well. I smile back at her in thanks.

"Kay popped into the fire this morning to tell you that she and Drew were coming round about ten. I didn't know they were coming over again today," Keira tells me, sitting down beside me and shooting me a curious look. I smile at her. She loved having them over yesterday morning before the Quidditch game, which we decided would be better than meeting at the stadium.

"Sorry, Keira, guess I forgot to tell you. It's alright that they're coming over, isn't it?" I ask, suddenly worried that she might be upset with me for not talking to her first. But she smiles and waves it away.

"Sure, Aria, that's fine. I love your friends, you know that," she says with a smile. I smile back warmly.

"Dad working?" I ask, glancing toward the hall leading to his study. Keira nods and rolls her eyes at me. I grin back and start in on my breakfast. Keira makes the best pancakes I have ever tasted anywhere. I eat slowly, enjoying every second of fluffy pancake goodness. Across the table, Abby and Henry are discussing whether or not the giant squid at Hogwarts is truly homicidal or not. I hide my grin from them and say nothing, not wanting to disappoint them by letting them know that the squid is really just a big old softie.

Beside me, Keira is absorbed in the Daily Prophet and some story about an old lady who was found to have more than thirty-eight different magical creatures in her house and back yard. She's eating absentmindedly, not really paying attention to what she's putting in her mouth as she reads, half of the time missing her mouth and having to search blindly for a few seconds, leaving bits of syrup around her mouth. I smile to myself and take my plate to the sink.

Keira is the best step-mum I could have ever asked for, sticky face and all. We had a rough time getting along when I first came to live here after my mum died, but after that first summer we came to a mutual respect for each other that eventually led to a very close relationship teetering between friendship and mother-daughter.

Beside all of that, Keira has always been extremely easy to talk to – excluding, of course, that first summer when I hated her because I thought she was trying to replace my mum. The thought of even thinking about talking to my dad about boys can make me embarrassed enough to die, but Keira listens and gives completely neutral points of view, which I love her for. She's great that way. Plus, she's a woman – she knows what I'm talking about much more than Dad has any idea of half the time.

On my way out of the kitchen I glance at the clock on the living room wall – the normal one, not the one with our faces on it in the kitchen, which actually stopped working a few years ago. Nine thirty. I have about half an hour until Kay and Drew show up, giving me plenty of time for a shower and whatever else I feel like doing. I start upstairs feeling renewed excitement.

At the top of the staircase leading to the third floor where my bedroom is, along with Sean's, I can't help but notice Jake's door again. The white wood hasn't changed at all in the last few weeks, and the door hasn't moved a centimeter from its shut position. And yet, I haven't even thought about his room since he left. I hesitate, debating with myself. Finally I walk over to the door and stand there staring at it. Slowly I reach out and touch the knob. It turns easily under my fingers and swings inward.

The room hasn't changed at all since the last time I saw it at the beginning of the summer. The bed is still sloppily made after having the top covers just thrown across it, and there are still balled up bits of parchment and broken quills littering the floor. Crumbled clothing is still spilling out of his unpacked school trunk. An old novel I let him borrow once is lying open face-down on his bedside table with an empty water glass beside it.

Everything looks so … normal. Like he hasn't left at all. As though at any moment he'll come walking in the door, giving me a weird look when he sees me in his room. The familiarity of it all cuts me to the core, and suddenly the room is swimming in front of me. I sink onto the bed and put my head in my hands, staring at the bare wooden floor, willing the tears not to fall.

Sitting down on the bed causes a small cloud of dust to rise, tickling my nose and burning my eyes, but that's not what finally causes the tears to fall. His scent. The way he always smelled – a mixture between the coconut scent in his shampoo and whatever kind of deodorant he wore – was preserved there in that little cloud of dust, and when it wafts up toward me, I can't stand it anymore.

I hug my legs to my chest and hide my face in my knees. Why did he have to leave? Or why couldn't he have come back?! He could at least visit!

A sob escapes and I hug my knees tighter. It isn't fair. Does he have any idea how much I miss him? Does he miss me? Why hasn't he written? And why didn't I make him promise to write? It takes me a few seconds to realize that the horrible ripping sound I've been hearing are more sobs tearing from my chest.

"Jake," I sob softly into my knees. Saying his name after all this time is strange, almost unfamiliar, and it hurts. Thinking it hasn't been a problem. I spend most of my time thinking about him. So why does it hurt so much to say his name aloud?

I'm still in that position who knows how much later when I feel someone sit down beside me on the bed. For about half a second I dare to hope. As I raise my head to see who it is, I dare to hope that he came back, that he somehow felt the pain I was in from wherever he was and came back to soothe it.

x.x

Drew

Her half-hopeful face falls as soon as she sees me, and I feel terrible at the disappointment that floods through her expression. She turns away from me and hides her face in her hands, and I can tell I interrupted something I probably wasn't ever meant to see. Hesitantly I reach out and touch her shoulder, and she jumps. I pull back, devastated to hear a sob rip from her throat.

"Aria," I whisper, trying again to lay my hand on her shoulder. Another sob, but she doesn't pull away from my touch. I wrap one arm around her waist and pull her to me, putting my other arm around her shoulders and hugging her. She leans against me and clings to my arm, still sobbing.

"Please don't cry," I murmur, feeling helpless as the sobs wrack her thin body. I hug her close, and an even worse cry wrenches from her.

"What's the matter?" I whisper, brushing hair out of her face as it sticks to her damp cheeks. She shakes her head, her face a mask of pain unlike anything I've ever seen, and I work at a hospital, so I've seen some real pain. Her sobs subside for a few seconds and in the lull I hear one word escape from between her lips. One word that brings another heart-wrenching sob from her chest.

"Jake."

Who in hell is Jake?

x.x

Aria

I hate that Drew is seeing me this way. I hate that he has to see me in such a state over another guy – a guy that he could never match up to, which makes me feel even more terrible, because I know how he feels about me. But I can't stop. Because having Drew here, trying to comfort me, is like the ultimate way of rubbing my nose in the fact that Jake isn't here.

It wasn't Jake's worried face I saw when I dared to glance up. It wasn't Jake's soft, low voice asking me what was wrong. The hand that so gently touched my shoulder wasn't the one I was once so used to that I didn't even have to see the face attached to it to know it was him. The arms now encircling me so hesitantly aren't the ones I yearn for. Drew doesn't realize that he's only doing more damage by being here trying to console me.

I clutch at his arm anyway, because he's here, he's something solid and grounded in reality that I can cling to, and I know he won't disappear like a dream when I open my eyes. His arms tighten around me when another sob manages to escape my lips, and I can feel his own suffering at my agony. I'm sorry, Drew, I want to say, but I can't. I can't say anything but his name. I don't know how many times I've said it since he sat down, but every now and then I feel him flinch slightly, so I'm sure it's just popping out of its own accord now.

x.x

Drew

She won't stop saying it. "Jake," she says over and over again, sobbing harder and harder each time she says it. I wish I knew what to do for her. But I've never been in this position before. I don't have any sisters to at least get me used to the idea of emotional hysteria like this. Quite frankly, crying girls terrify me. The only reason I didn't run screaming out of the room as soon as I saw her was because it's Aria, and I can't just leave her up here, in such obvious pain, sobbing her heart out.

That's what it is, I realize with a jolt. Her heart. Whoever this Jake guy is … well I don't know what he did to her, but clearly it left her heart quite a bit short of whole. I gaze around the room we're in. It's sloppy and dirty, and everything is covered with a film of dust. This can't be Aria's room. It has no feminine touches to it. In fact, it looks more like my bedroom than what I'd imagine Aria's to look like.

This can't be her room. So it has to be … Jake's? Who is Jake, anyway? Her brother – the one I met yesterday – his name is Sean. She has another brother … I saw him around yesterday and just a bit ago downstairs. But his name isn't Jake. Besides, why would Aria be crying over her brother? Unless he died… No. Aria's brothers are both alive and well, and so is her sister. Maybe Jake died… whoever he is.

x.x

Aria

I try to quit my crying, I honestly do. But every time I try to stop, it brings on a whole new wave of sorrow, and I can't help it. I know Drew must be terribly uncomfortable, holding me while I'm crying over another guy. I'm soaking his shirt too. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to stem my tears, but it doesn't work. Completely of its own accord, a strangled, whimpering sound comes from my throat, and I feel him stiffen and flinch all in the same motion.

A few seconds later I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and I pull away from Drew, trying to compose myself before whoever it is finds us like this. However, when I glance quickly around, I realize where I am, and the loss rolls back over me like a wave, and more tears well up in my eyes.

"Aria?" I hear my father's concerned voice a second before his arms are wrapped around me, and I'm crying into his shoulder. Beside me, I hear Drew stammering quickly, trying to explain.

x.x

Ron

I knew something was up when I heard the doorbell ring – none of our family or friends who usually come to visit ring the doorbell. Most of them don't even knock, they just walk in without any warning. So I was already suspicious when I heard the doorbell ring, and Keira greeting someone with warmth, telling whoever it was to head on upstairs to find Aria.

Oh yeah, I remembered suddenly. Aria has those friends of hers coming over – the ones who took her to the Quidditch game yesterday.

So I went back to my report, not really all that concerned anymore. But when I glanced up at the clock and saw that it had been ten minutes, I began to worry just a little. There really isn't that much to do around here – not upstairs in Aria's room anyway – and I started to get just a little worried. Of course then I remembered that one of her new friends coming over today is a boy, so I decided I'd best go check things out.

Keira rolled her eyes at me as I passed, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'over-protective', which I pointedly ignored.

My initial reaction upon seeing Aria sitting on Jake's bed with some guy I've only met once, crying, was relief, but that only lasted maybe half a second before I realized that she was crying – sobbing actually – into the guy's arm, and he looked – is still looking - downright terrified.

"Oh, Aria," I murmur now, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her tightly. Her arms slide around my neck and she cries into my shoulder, shaking hard with each sob.

"I-I didn't do anything," Drew stammers. "She w-was already l-like this when I-I got up here, and-and I was just t-trying to…" he trails off when I cut my eyes to him.

"I know it's not your fault," I say softly, carefully seating myself on Aria's other side. I'm not sure if it's my words or the little cloud of dust that rises up when I sit that sets off another fresh round of sobbing from my poor, heartbroken daughter. Either way, the sudden increase in volume brings an alarmed look from her friend.

"Shh," I murmur into her hair, gently rubbing her back. "Shh, sweetheart, it's going to be alright." I know I need to get her out of this room – his room. Nothing else could have triggered this. I'd been so sure she was healing. When I spoke to Jake yesterday, I told him that she was healing. She was laughing, smiling, looking forward to the Quidditch game and introducing her new friends to Sean.

Part of me wonders if I should have asked him to come home, or to at least visit now and then, so Aria could see him. And yet, I can't explain the aversion I have to that idea. I glance at Drew to see him looking around the room curiously, probably wondering who's bedroom this is, why Aria's sitting in it, and why on earth she's sobbing so heartbreakingly.

"Sweetheart, let's get up," I say softly in her ear. She simply clings to me and sobs, making no move to do as I suggested.

"Please, you have to get up, love," I whisper, glancing at Drew again. He's still looking around the room, and when his eyes fall on a framed photograph on the wall near the door, he cuts his eyes to me, flushing when he notices me watching him.

"Aria, c'mon, let's get up," I say a little bit more forcefully now, standing myself and pulling her with me. Being quite a bit taller than her, the motion wrenches her arms from around my neck, and she lets out a tortured sound, instantly clutching at my arm for support. I hug her to me, and she buries her face in my chest.

While I wait for her sobs to subside enough that I can talk to her again, I think back to just over six years ago when Hermione died. Aria was so scared and lonely then, too, but this … this is so much more terrible than that. Maybe because this time, there's nothing that can heal her but time, unlike last time, when she had an entire new family to love her and help her heal. She had her two best friends to comfort her and help her along, and this time, who does she have? I know she doesn't feel comfortable talking about it with me, anyway. And Sean is always gone for training and games. She could talk to Keira, but Keira tells me every time I ask that Aria hasn't brought it up.

Maybe she doesn't want to talk about it. Maybe the pain and loss runs so deep that the only thing talking about it would do is bring … this.

x.x

Drew

Aria's dad knows exactly what's wrong with her – that much has been obvious since he came in here and saw her crying. He didn't even suspect for one millisecond that I could be the cause of her anguish. While he stands there letting her cry into his chest, one step closer to getting her out the door of this room, I walk over to the picture hanging on the wall beside the door.

The picture displays four people, two of which I recognize instantly as Sean and Aria. The other two I've never seen before. One is a girl with really long, nearly waist-length curly white-blonde hair, and she's clutching Aria's arm excitedly, her eyes dancing with happiness. Even as a photograph, her obvious happiness in infectious enough to make me smile just a little.

The Aria in this photograph is happier than I've ever seen the Aria I've come to know in the last few weeks at St. Mungo's. There's almost a glow to how she smiles, the way her eyes are lit up, so much so that the other girl's excitement is almost dim in comparison. I stare at just Aria, lost in her beautiful smile, until a sob ripping from the real Aria standing just a few feet away brings me rudely back to reality.

On the other side of the blonde girl is Aria's brother Sean, his red hair smoothed down in an almost unnatural look after seeing it windswept and messy yesterday. He has his arm slung casually around the blonde girl's shoulders, and he's grinning easily at the camera. So much less intense than at the Quidditch pitch, but still the natural friendliness and easy-going attitude.

The last person in the photo is a tall guy with nearly black hair, his arm wrapped much more intimately around Aria's waist than Sean's arm around the other girl's shoulders. He's smiling down at her, not even looking at the camera, and it's hard to miss the adoration and … love in his gaze. Aria's barely touching the guy, having one arm – the one being clutched by the blonde girl – wrapped around herself, and the other reaching over to grab the blonde girl's wrist.

And yet … the way the tall guy's arm is wrapped around her, the way it looks as though she's pressing herself back against it … it looks so natural. As I watch the photo, the beautiful Aria there glances up and grins at him, and for a second I almost expect him to lean down and kiss her – how could he not after looking at her smiling at him like that? But Aria just glances back at the camera for a few seconds before the sequence repeats, the way most photographs do.

Is that Jake? But if it is … then what happened to him that would make Aria … like this? Were they dating? Did he cheat on her? Break up with her? Disappear? Did he die? It's impossible to know without asking, and I can't ask Aria unless I'm prepared for another episode of whatever just happened. I glance toward her, still clinging to her dad, and then back at the photograph, where her smile is so radiant, so beautiful, so unlike anything I've ever seen on her face, even yesterday when she was obviously so pleased to see her brother.

But that's just it, isn't it? She was pleased. She's always pleased. But is she happy? I can't honestly say. Before today I would have said yes. But looking at this photograph … that is what happy people look like. Aria is just … pleased most of the time. I look again at that guy, wondering what he has that I don't have. He's a lot taller than me, I'll give him that. But other than that … we don't look anything alike, but I wouldn't call either of us ugly or anything. I stare at him, very nearly wishing I could be him if only for a few minutes, just to have Aria turn that gorgeous smile on me.

x.x

Ron

I watch Drew carefully as he scrutinizes that photograph of Aria and her best friends from last summer when Skyla stayed with us. I took that picture of the four of them the day Skyla arrived, all excited for another summer. Then again, I can't honestly remember a summer when Skyla wasn't excited. It was pretty obvious from the start that she had a crush on Sean, and that he didn't start thinking of her as more than a friend until after he told her he just wanted to be friends.

Drew glances back toward Aria every few seconds, obviously comparing the disheveled, heartbroken young woman to the joyful, beautiful and completely-in-love sixteen-year-old girl in that picture. I see him lean in and look at the photo hard for a few seconds, and when I look closer I can see him studying Jake's face there, probably putting the puzzle pieces together slowly.

"Sweetheart," I whisper in Aria's ear, and she stiffens. "Come on," I say quietly, leading her toward the door. She follows me willingly, and I will her not to look over at Drew before leaving the room. Apparently, my prayers are not to be answered. She glances toward her friend, and her eyes fall on the photograph he's been studying for the last five minutes or so.

"Oh," she whispers in surprise, seeing her three best friends surrounding herself, the four of them happier than she's been in over a month. The breath whooshes from her lungs audibly, and quite abruptly, there are more tears in her eyes. I wrap my arm firmly around her waist and force her to walk forward, throwing a look at Drew, not quite able to believe he couldn't see that coming. His guilty expression is answer enough as I lead her out of the bedroom.

She's almost in a trance as I lead her across the landing to her own room. I glance behind me to see Drew shutting Jake's door softly before disappearing downstairs with an apologetic look.

I sit down with Aria on her bed and lean back against her pillows. Almost instantly she's curled into my side, her head on my chest, sobbing again, clutching at my shirt as if her life depends on it.

"Oh, Aria," I sigh, wishing there was something I could do to soothe her pain, but knowing there's only one person left in the world that could, and he's in no position to do so at the moment.

x.x

Drew

I hope Mr. Weasley understands that I had to get out of there. Seeing Aria so desperately distressed is not something I can deal with for very long. Of course I want to comfort her, and I did try, but after just a few seconds it was pretty obvious that I wasn't the one she wanted.

I sigh to myself as I head downstairs. I just wish I knew what the problem was. If he – that Jake guy – died, well … I dunno. In a few months or years, maybe she'll be okay. But if it's something else … if he cheated on her or-or left her or something… My fists clench involuntarily at that thought. How could he have left her? How could anyone leave such a wonderful and beautiful person as Aria Granger?

When I reach the kitchen, I'm pleasantly surprised to see Kay sitting at the table, chatting happily with Keira Weasley. They both look up and grin at me when they see me, but Keira's smile slips away instantly at whatever expression she sees on my face, and Kay jumps up, looking worried.

"What's wrong?" Kay asks, hurrying to my side and putting her cool hand on my arm in concern. I look at her and try to smile.

"Is it Aria?" Keira asks, and I can tell by her expression that she already suspects what's wrong. I nod and sink into a chair at the table. Kay is still at my side, looking confused as well as worried now.

"What's wrong with Aria?" she asks, glancing between Keira and me for an answer. Keira sighs.

"Jake?" she asks me with raised eyebrows. I can barely muster up surprise that she can tell so readily what's wrong. I simply nod, and her expression flashes from concern to annoyed to concern again.

"What's going on?" Kay demands, not one used to being left out of the loop. I look at Keira for help, and she sighs again before sitting down across from us.

x.x

Keira

Seeing that look on Drew's face, it doesn't surprise me that Aria is having another little episode. They've been far and in-between so far – the first one was of course when she found out Jake was gone, the next only a week later, but there's only been once since then, and not nearly as extreme as the previous two.

Poor Drew. I suspected, watching him yesterday with Aria, that he might have feelings for Aria. I'm sure it's devastating to him, not just to see Aria so torn up, but to realize how completely in love with Jake she is.

I take a deep breath as I prepare to explain to them. Kay is looking impatient and confused, and poor Drew is looking curious, but behind that, simply shocked and hurt.

"Who's Jake?" Drew asks before I can begin. Kay looks back and forth between us impatiently.

"He's … he was Aria's best friend from the time they were eleven," I start, and already Drew has picked up on the 'was' part, raising his eyebrows. "He also lived here with Ron and me from the age of five," I add, and Kay's confusion deepens, but a light bulb of sorts goes off over Drew's head as he puts pieces together.

"He was like a son to us, and after Aria's mum died and she came to live with us, they became so much closer."

"How old was she when her mum died?" Drew wants to know. It surprises me that he doesn't already know – or maybe he does, but he just needs the reminder.

"Eleven – nearly twelve," I say, and he looks surprised, but doesn't say anything about it. "Anyway … I don't know what else to tell you. All I know is that somewhere along the way, they fell completely and irrevocably in love," I say, and I feel a tad melodramatic at my description, yet it feels so true that I don't correct myself.

I feel awful at the pained expression on Drew's face. He stares at the wood grains of the table for a few seconds before speaking again, this time in a whisper so soft I nearly don't catch his question.

"So what happened?"

"He left," I start, and his head snaps up instantly. From the way his expression took on understanding every time I used the word 'was' I'm sure he was just assuming that Jake had died.

"He wanted to find his biological father, and he refused to take Aria with him because he wanted her to get through Healer training. I know he thinks what he did was for the best…" I trail off and eye Drew hesitantly.

"For the best?" he echoes incredulously. "Have you ever seen her like that?" he asks accusingly, jabbing a finger upwards to indicate upstairs. "I haven't," he adds, pointing back at himself.

"He didn't know how much he was hurting her by leaving," I defend Jake instinctively, still feeling responsible for him, as though he were my own son.

"But I saw… I saw that photograph," he whispers, looking down again. I wonder which photo he's talking about. The one of Jake and Aria from Christmas three years ago when they ganged up on Sean and covered him from head to toe in gift wrap? The one of Jake, Sean, and Aria lying in the grass in the back yard that has the boys pinning poor Aria down while they tickle her to death? There are so many pictures that have both Jake and Aria in them, but only one really comes to mind if he could see the way they felt about each other. But that's in Jake's room.

"Was she in his bedroom?" I ask a bit more harshly than I meant to. He looks surprised at my tone, but nods slowly, and I sigh. Of course. No wonder she's having an episode.

x.x

Ron

Eventually Aria's sobs subside and she simply lies there with her face buried in my chest, her breaths still coming in short, ragged gaps, but slowly deepening and lengthening until I wonder if she's fallen asleep. But she raises her head and looks at me, her eyes red, her face distraught.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, resting her chin on my chest, and I nearly laugh, but that wouldn't be the appropriate reaction.

"Don't be," I assure her, wiping wisps of hair off of her tear-slick face.

"Is Drew alright?" she asks quietly, and for the first time I notice how rough and hoarse her voice is after all that sobbing.

"He's a little freaked out," I admit with a grimace, and she sighs before sitting up and facing me.

"I don't know why I did it," she whispers, looking down, tracing the lines on her bedding with her fingertips. "I just …" she trails off and shrugs, but I think I can guess what she means. She just needed something to prove to herself that he'd once been here, occupied space in this house, had breathed the same air as her. I remember feeling that way when Hermione left, except I'd had nothing of hers left, nothing except photographs, which became too painful to look at.

"I understand," I whisper, and her eyes search mine, needing assurance.

"I should go downstairs and apologize," she murmurs, looking ashamed of her behavior. I reach out and squeeze her hand gently.

"Don't be embarrassed," I whisper. Her face flushes anyway, so I refrain from saying anything else similar. Instead I take both of her hands in mine, and she looks back up at me expectantly.

"I love you, Aria," I murmur, and a sliver of a smile passes over her face. "I know it's hard. I know you're in pain. I know you miss him, and I know you feel as if …" I pause, trying to phrase this right so I don't upset her, but she smiles sadly and finishes for me.

"As though no one in the entire world could ever measure up or make me happy again," she whispers, and my heart breaks at the sadness in her tone, in her expression, in her posture. I squeeze her hands again.

"I've been there," I say quietly.

"But you found Keira," she finishes for me again, and I nod. She looks up at me, searching my face again for answers. "But what if I don't?" she asks, her expression crumpling again. "What if I don't find someone else, Dad?"

"Oh, sweetheart," I whisper, hugging her. She doesn't cry this time, simply clutches my arms and shakes against me with dry, silent sobs.

"Why'd he go, Dad? Why did he have to leave?"

"You know why," I murmur into her hair, and she shakes her head back and forth.

"He could have come back. He could have visited. He could at least write a damn letter now and then!" she exclaims angrily, pulling back from me abruptly. Briefly, a nearly-forgotten memory of Hermione lecturing me on the stages of grief right after the war ended enters my mind and I very nearly smile, but at the last second gain control of my facial muscles so my poor daughter won't think I'm laughing at her.

"Maybe it's better this way," I murmur, so softly that I half hope she won't hear me. Her incredulous expression tells me otherwise.

"Better?! You think this is better?!" she spits, jumping up.

"Sweetheart, sit down," I murmur. She glares wildly at me for a few seconds before marching over to her armchair and throwing herself into it.

"Go ahead then," she snarls, and her resemblance to her mother right then is frightening. "Go ahead and tell me why this is better," she says the last word with a sneer curling her lips, and I sigh very quietly.

"Tell me something, Aria. If he came back and visited maybe once a month – one day every four weeks – would you feel better or worse after each visit, knowing you won't see him again for thirty solid days?" I ask her, truly curious of her answer. She scoffs at me and spits out her answer instantly.

"Better, of course," she says indignantly. I stare at her for a few seconds and she becomes quiet, thinking over her answer, and eventually her face falls.

"Probably not," she murmurs, staring at the floor. "I'd miss him even more. So, so much more." She looks back up at me, and her eyes are suddenly burning with intensity. "But when he was here. The one day we had together … it would keep me going through the other twenty-nine days – give or take – he was gone … would-wouldn't it?" she asks, her voice breaking, her eyes glassy with tears again.

"I don't know, love," I murmur. "I never got thatparticular privilege."

"I don't care," she whispers fiercely, abruptly angry again. "I don't care if he's gone twenty-nine out of thirty days. That one day would make up for all the others," she insists, her voice choked with tears that she refuses to let fall from her beautiful blue eyes.

I feel suddenly terrible for my long talk with Jake yesterday. We were right there, barely a ten minute's walk from the house where Aria sat with her new friends, and I could have let him see her, could have let them talk, let them be happy together, if even for a few hours. It was my own stupid selfishness, my own jealousy that someone could make her happier than I could. I could have brought him back to the house, and I would have made Aria's day.

He didn't want to though, I remember suddenly, with striking clarity. He didn't want to come see her, because somehow he knew what that would do to her. I try to imagine what today would be like if Jake had been here to see her yesterday, and had gone again this morning or late last night. She'd be even worse off. Her anger would be lost in mourning, and we'd have to start the healing process way back at square one.

"But what about when he left again?" I ask softly. Her eyes snap to mine, and the agony there causes me physical pain. "That's what I thought," I whisper, tearing my gaze from hers. She lets out a disconcerting whimper, curling into herself, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Aria?"

We both look up to see a young woman with long, impeccably straight brown hair standing in the doorway, concern written in every inch of her face. This must be Kay, whom I did not have the pleasure of meeting yesterday, as she had had to go home after the game, while Drew came to supper.

"Hey, Kay," Aria mumbles glumly, shooting a look at me. I take this as my cue to bow out gracefully before being forcefully booted from the room.

"I'll leave you two ladies alone," I say with a smile at Kay. She smiles back politely as she waits for me to leave before going into the room and shutting the door gently behind her.

Girl time, I guess.

A/N: I was going to keep going, but it would have gotten way too long. It's already seventeen pages long! Guess I'm just on a roll with the super-long touch-feely stuff I've been up to lately. This chapter was originally going to happen in the same time frame as last chapter, starting with Saturday morning and taking you through the Quidditch game, but I realized about half-way through how hard it would be to have Aria crying her heart out one moment and then laughing in the living room with Drew by the time Jake accidentally Apparated into the back yard. So yeah.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review! You all rock! Cookies and lemonade for everyone! Yaay!