With a Little Help from My Friends ~ by Lucy Lupin

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Disclaimer: The chapter title and the lyrics are taken from a Beatles song. And I am no closer to owning the teenaged Arthur Weasley and co. If the status quo changes, you will be the first to be informed.

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Chapter Eight: You've Got to Hide Your Love Away

Here I stand with head in hand,

Turn my face to the wall.

If she's gone I can't go on,

Feeling two foot small.

Ev'rywhere people stare,

Each and every day.

I can hear them laugh at me,

And I hear them say:

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

How can I even try,

I can never win.

Hearing them, seeing them,

In the state I'm in.

How could she say to me,

"Love will find a way."

Gather 'round all you clowns

Let me hear you say:

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

For the next few hours Molly had no idea how she had done what she had done, had no recollection of having thought of and ordered herself to do such things. Yet she found a pot of Floo Powder near the Black's mantlepiece, transported herself to St Mungos and alerted the Mediwitches and wizards to the situation back at the Black's abode, upon which half a dozen of them promptly Apparated there. It took only a few minutes for the team to confirm that Elodie was dead. Blood pounding in her ears, she had then found herself back in the main square of Hogsmeades and talking to Zachary Lupin, who she persuaded to accompany her to the Potter residence. She couldn't remember having to explain or convince a lot to the Gryffindor prefect. The look on her face must have said more than she ever could.

Only faintly conscious of Zachary's hand on her arm, she had then found herself outside the front door of the white wooden house that was always majestic yet inviting, the friendly look on Elizabeth Potter's face faded at the expressions on both Zachary's and Molly's. Summoning a cheerfulness that it would have killed Molly to feel, Zachary had whisked the two boys off with an invitation to the Three Broomsticks. If Zachary's feigned happiness would have killed Molly, then the joyous shouts at his announcement and the quick gap-toothed grin Sirius flashed her as he ran past to follow Zachary and James outside destroyed her. The front door had slammed shut when she finally gave way and burst into tears.

Minutes later both Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet had materialised in the Potter's fireplace. Had the situation been less grave, Molly would have laughed at the way the tubby headmaster had looked tangled up in the much-longer limbs of her house head and Transfiguration professor. Dippet had promptly sent her back to his office, where she had responded to the idle chit-chat of the portraits of past headmasters that adorned his walls with distracted, scattered replies. It was almost half an hour later when green finally flared in the fireplace.

Molly got to her feet, but it was Albus Dumbledore, not Armando Dippet, that dusted off his robes and took a step towards her. "Lemon drop?" he asked, reaching into his pocket and extending a paper bag of lollies towards her.

Dumbfounded, she accepted one and popped it into her mouth, sitting back down.

"I much prefer them over Many-Flavoured Beans myself," Dumbledore continued, smiling at her from behind his crescent-shaped glasses. "In my youth I had the misfortune to encounter a vomit-flavoured one and haven't been able to stomach them since."

As he talked he walked around behind Dippet's desk and brought the chair forward so he was sitting directly in front of her. Had Molly been in a more collected state of mind, she would have appreciated that he had not sat at his superior's desk. "What happened?" she asked when he was finally seated. The lemon drop seemed to have freed up her jaw and awakened her senses slightly.

"Well, Hector Black arrived back from a lunchtime stroll and found his wife, Elodie, collapsed on the living room floor," Dumbledore began. "You came shortly afterwards and very sensibly alerted the staff at St Mungos to the situation, who have since ruled out all baring natural causes for Elodie's unfortunate death. Since the time we last spoke I have been making several arrangements. Jerome and Elizabeth Potter have agreed to look after young Sirius Black for as long as his father is unable to. Professor Flitwick of Ravenclaw is currently setting up a Portkey to transport Lucille to her mother's relatives in France if she so chooses to go. If you will excuse me, I must now track down Miss Black and be the bearer of grieviously unfortunate news, but you may stay here for as long as you like. I have even arranged for someone to keep you company until I return. Arthur Weasley will be on his way here shortly."

"Arthur?" Molly repeated foggedly.

Dumbledore nodded. "I found him slightly indisposed when I arrived in the Gryffindor common area, but it was nothing that a strong hangover remedy brew couldn't take care of, which I have mastered occasionally being of need of it myself from time to time." A small smile touched his lips.

Despite her sadness Molly found herself smiling too. She looked around at the cluttered circular office, the portraits snoring peacefully in their hangings on the wall. To be dead, but somehow still alive, and yet safely oblivious and free from the outside world. Right now it seemed a preferable way to be. "This will be your office someday, Professor," she found herself saying.

"Only if I deserve it, I hope," Dumbledore responded, rising to his feet. "As much as I would normally like to enjoy the company of such a charming young woman as yourself, I must now regretfully destroy the world of another. Miss Weasley?"

"Professor?"

"I have not yet talked this through with Headmaster Dippet, the day bringing more important agendas to our minds, but I will add eighty points to Gryffindor house. Thirty for Mr Lupin, fifty for yourself. From what the Potters told me you showed exceptional foresight, poise and tact in a heartbreaking situation. I hardly see our headmaster disagreeing with my decision. I fare you well, Molly." His richly patterned robes swishing behind him, Professor Dumbledore now departed.

Some of Molly's calm departed with her house head. She sat still in her seat, her head lowered, her knees primly together, her hands folded mutely in her lap. Not being an exceptional student or a Quidditch player until this year, she doubted she had earned so many points towards Gryffindor house in her previous five years in Hogwarts together, let alone in one go. It seemed somehow wrong that Dumbledore was awarding all those points in her and Zachary's names, as if they were profiting from Lucille's misery. The lemon drop now completely dissolved, a lump formed in her throat.

The door creaked open and footsteps echoed quietly across the floor. The leather armchair across from her creaked as someone sat down. Finally Molly looked up and saw Arthur. He was in jeans and a t-shirt but perhaps as a tribute to the gravity of the situation, was wearing his black cloak and head boy's badge. The head students' and prefects' badges were to be worn at all times, Veronica had told her, even when their owners were in plain clothes and at Hogsmeades, because both the prefects and the other students must be reminded of the responsibility they had towards the school. Was this why Arthur was here, because he felt responsible? Would he have been here for any other reason?

As she thought all this Arthur watched her wordlessly, then patted his knee. Molly paused for a moment then moved over to him and sat in his lap, tentatively at first, but gradually relaxing into him as the comfort of having a warm body close to her gently crept through her. Until she had sat so close to him and felt how steady he was in contrast to herself, she hadn't realised that she was shaking. True, his shoulders weren't as developed and broad as Amos Diggory's, but next to her he felt solid and real. She exhaled raggedly and rested her head against him. "Poor girl."

"Poor family. I know." Because he couldn't think of anything else and because there was nothing else he could do, Arthur's hand came up to stroke her hair.

"Her world will fall apart when he tells her."

"It will. And she will never get over it. She'll eventually be able to push it to the back of her mind and get on with her daily life, but the sorrow won't diminish. Christmases. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Around these times it will feel like it was the same day her mother died."

Molly pulled back slightly to look at him. She had always thought of Arthur as an intelligent but blundering goon, often mislead and waylaid by Thierry's sense of mischief. But his words spoke of a quiet maturity and a dignified beginning of an understanding of a sense of loss that they had both been fortunate enough not to yet experience. Death was something they could never fully understand without going through themselves, and Arthur was aware of this. When Dumbledore found her, Lucille would understand far better than she should. "I don't want the points," she said.

"Pardon?" Arthur's sapphire-coloured eyes gave her a concerned once-over.

"Professor Dumbledore awarded our house eighty points because of what Zachary and I did today, how I contacted St Mungos and then he came with me and took Sirius Black and James Potter out to the Three Broomsticks while I told James' parents about what had happened." Molly's words tumbled out, her voice raising in ire. "I don't want the eighty points. It's just wrong. I don't want anything. I just want Lucille's mum back."

"Dumbledore didn't reward those points as payout or compensation," Arthur told her.

"That's what it feels like."

"He wasn't trying to make Mrs Black's death any less devastating for anyone," Arthur continued. The arm that was not stroking Molly's hair had now encircled her waist and he pulled her closer to him. "He was simply trying to acknowledge what you and Zach did today. Because you were strong and steady. You've always been steady. And people just don't appreciate steadiness enough. It's not a flashy quality, but a good one to have, nonetheless." Molly nestled closer to him. "That's all he wanted to do. Show that he appreciated and admired something about you that other people don't always notice, but something that really came through for you and everyone else today."

Now Molly really did cry, and not just cry, but sob heavily. Arthur held her the whole time she shuddered against him, his palm rubbing warm, comforting circles on her back. When she was done she lay silently against him for a while, feeling a bit outside of herself from the force of her weeping and abstractly noting how steadily his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Yet Lucille was as much his friend as hers, and while her family home was in London, Arthur lived in Hogsmeades with the Blacks and visited their cottage there regularly. If anything, he would be affected worse by this than she. How selfish I've been, she thought, and raised her head to look at him.

"Er, not interrupting anything, am I?" someone asked tentatively. Standing in the fireplace was Zachary Lupin, brushing soot out of his shaggy, sandy hair.

"No," she said. "Please, come in and sit down." Still looking awkward, Zachary walked over to him and sat in the chair she had earlier vacated. She twisted around to take his hand. "So, what happened after I left?"

"Not much," Zachary replied. "After the Three Broomsticks I took Sirius and that Potter boy to Honeydukes. Lucille's brother probably thought all his Christmases had come at once, the poor kid. It was so hard-" his voice broke for an instant, but he regained himself. "A bit later the Potters came for them and took them home. Dumbledore found me and told me to Floo to the Ministry of Magic and arrange a sub for Lucille's dad for the next few days. Dippet's still with him. He must be broken, the poor bastard. So I did all that, then I came back here." He paused then asked, "Lucille's mum, what's her-what was her name?"

Everyone was silent for a minute, Zachary's switch from the present to the past tense speaking volumes. "I'm really sorry," he said.

"You're fine," Arthur said. "It's a hard thing to get used to."

"That's just it," Molly released Zachary's hand and turned around to look at Arthur. "What if she doesn't accept that she's gone? It will be so much harder for her."

"I know," Arthur told her. To Zachary, he added, "Her name was Elodie."

"Is that French?" Zachary asked. Molly nodded. "I just wanted to know because I only met her once, during my first year on my way to Hogwarts, and she was really nice to me. Not Lucille though. She hated me." They shared a brief chuckle at this. "It's just funny how you meet someone like that once and think nothing of it, and the next time, well, they're gone. Wait, does Thierry know?"

"Why?" Molly asked hollowly.

"Well, they may have not been that close," Zachary continued, looking acutely uncomfortable, "but if she was French, like Thierry, then she would have been one of his few links to his homeland. And now, well, that's been taken away from him."

Molly and Arthur shared a look. "You'd better go," she said. "I'll be fine here with Zachary." She got off his lap and perched on the arm of Zachary's chair.

"He might be outside," Zachary advised. "I saw him at breakfast this morning and he said something about not going to Hogsmeades because of detention. Pringle will probably have him galloping around somewhere."

"Thanks," Arthur nodded. "Take care, Molly, Zach."

Once Arthur had gone, Molly took the seat they had once shared. The leather was still warm from his body. "I just can't get my head around this," she told Zachary.

"You seem to be getting your head around it just fine," the slight, amber-eyed prefect told her. "Me, I kind of don't even want to try and get my head around it. Denial only postpones things, but it can be nice sometimes."

Molly took a good look at him. For the first time she noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red. "Perhaps some of that Firewhiskey Dippet confiscates from time to time will help," she suggested. "I don't think he'll mind."

Zachary's eyebrows raised. "You're suggesting this, Miss Morag?" he said. "And here I was thinking you were a good little Irish girl. You just want to get me drunk and take advantage of me, don't you?"

"Am I that transparent?" Molly grinned. "No more than one finger though, mind you."

"You even know what they're measured in. I'm not your first victim, am I?"

"Shut up," Molly retorted. After a few minutes of rummaging through the shelves, she had tracked down a bottle of Firewhiskey while Zachary found a pair of goblets with stems shaped like mermaids. "This bottles almost half gone."

"And it looks like the same one he found in Roy Connolly's bag last week," Zachary said, coming over to take a look. "He must be quite a fan. Still, if I was responsible for Mustard, I'd probably be driven to drink too. Imagine the owls he must get from parents about him. More than all the other teachers combined, I'd say." Molly poured a small amount of alcohol into each glass and they resumed their seats across from each other. "To Elodie Black," she said and raised her goblet.

"Elodie," Zachary agreed, raising his own goblet. The pair clicked together and Molly and Zachary both took a swallow, knowing things would be very different from now on.

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