AN: Am I on time? Who knows anymore. This chapter isn't very long (are they ever realistically) (I mean does everyone remember TBFY Chapter Five. That was a whoppa) but I wanted to give you something. I know I'm literally terrible at updating but I promise Three Bloods is still very much something I want to complete... Just not chronologically apparently. I know have the entire end sorted but this middle bit... It's taking a while.

Thanks for sticking with it; please review! (Like seriously please. I am getting worried that all the 'people' reading this are actually just computer bots. Review to prove you're not a robot ;) )

Chapter Twenty-Two
Of Graveyards and Grumbling

Healer Cattermole was very good at her job. Jayna Ivonne Blackwood was the fifth subject she'd worked with her in her time at Magic Isn't Everything but it was still a relatively small company. As the head of it, she prided herself on only employing people she could trust, whether that be as a receptionist or a therapist, and she guessed that was probably why Jayna had chosen to come here. Not that she had much of a choice, as there were hardly any Wizarding mental health clinics. Hers was one of the first, and she was glad to be living her dream of providing help for the Wizarding world where her mother had not received any. Healer Cattermole's mother's encounter with the dementors during the Second Wizarding War had left lasting psychological damage, damage that other Healers couldn't fix.

Healer Cattermole had obtained an unspecialised Wizarding qualification in healing before forging convincing Muggle papers to get a university degree in therapy. Combining the two made her as qualified as a witch could hope to be considering there was no Wizarding equivalent of therapy until she made her own. She made sure to stress to each of her patients that she was still learning, and they only had to pay her if she'd made a positive improvement on their life. So far, all four people she'd seen before Jayna had left her sessions better off than when they had come in.

Jayna's story was not the most tragic she'd ever heard, but it was the most complicated. No-one, especially not Jayna, was sure how many memories she had left to uncover, and Jayna seemed almost consciously against the idea of moving on around them. Whether it was because she was loathe to let her family go or, as Healer Cattermole suspected, because she thought she deserved the pain that came with a broken heart, it didn't matter; her way of dealing with this pain wasn't healthy. Destroying herself emotionally might not be the most physically scarring method Healer Cattermole had dealt with but that didn't make it a good idea either.

The November this year was a crisp cold one, biting winds that promised the upcoming winter would involve snowfall. Already, when Jayna breathed out, her breath was visible in the air around her. The warmth of her breath kissed her cheeks, sprinkling a blush across them. The wind made her hair swirl around her face and she pushed it out of her eyes impatiently, striding forward to push open the gate that led to the Blackwood family cemetery. She rested her hand on the cold iron and it glowed white for a second before swinging open.

"The cemetery is warded?" Healer Cattermole asked.

"It's private." Jayna confirmed.

"Can I enter?"

"Now that I have opened the gate." They had to floo to a house Healer Cattermole didn't recognise to get here. Jayna had informed her that this was one of her family's properties; initially Jayna and her sister had sold them all, but Jayna bought this one back in the Christmas holidays of last year, needing to have someplace that she could use to visit her family's graves easily.

It wasn't until they'd stepped outside, almost immediately after going through the fireplace as Jayna had not wanted to linger, that Healer Cattermole realised they were no longer in the UK. It made sense that her family cemetery was in France, considering her family had always been French, but it was still a shock. The cemetery had been at least half a mile away from the house, but they were still on the Blackwood property. The wealth of it took Healer Cattermole's breath away.

Jayna still hadn't stepped inside the gate.

"I found out that the house elves that had worked in the properties Cara and I sold went into Cara's vault at Gringotts." Healer Cattermole swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "They died in there. I had no idea." Jayna took a deep breath. "I've hated house elves since I thought the ones in our house left my family to burn. But I think maybe they burnt too and maybe the law enforcers at the scene didn't mention their bones because they didn't think it was important." Healer Cattermole didn't know what to say. "I'm not very good at apologies," Jayna continued, "but I was thinking of employing freed house-elves who are struggling with finding paid work to look after this property for me. And maybe," She took a deep breath, "maybe renting this place out while I'm still at school. I might buy back a couple of our London properties as well, and do the same. I thought it might help. Moving on. I thought selling all the properties was doing that, but that was letting go not moving on. I think maybe keeping hold of them but giving them new life is a better idea." She turned back to Healer Cattermole. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea." She said, honestly. She hesitated. "And I think it's heart-breaking that a thirteen year old is talking about rent and property." Jayna smiled at that.

"I have help."

"Oh?"

"My mother employed Gabrielle Delacour to design a lot of our properties in France. I got in touch with her again last summer. It's surprising she agreed to help me to be honest. I wasn't very nice that summer." Healer Cattermole, in her short time knowing Jayna, knew this was an understatement.

"Are we going in?" Jayna nodded. She hesitated a moment later and then turned and strode in. Healer Cattermole followed her through rows and rows of graves until they reached the back. These graves had a thin layer of grass growing over them now, but nothing like the vines that spiralled over the rest of the graves in this place. Healer Cattermole looked around her.

Trees lined the outskirts of the cemetery, a protective fence all the way round, the only entrance the gate they had come through. Flower beds, wild, untamed, colourful, blooming flowers, had spread over the majority of the area. Grass poked between the cracks in some of the older graves, but she noticed there wasn't a weed to be seen.

"This is a garden." Healer Cattermole said in wonder. The trees that hung overhead were still vibrantly green despite the late month. She didn't know how she had failed to notice that the cold air had been left biting at their heels as they'd passed through the gate. Her thick coat was beginning to make her uncomfortably warm. She had thought Jayna didn't want her to bring flowers because she wasn't comfortable with the usual gestures of grief, but actually it was because she didn't need to. The graves they stood in front of now already had little flowers, blue and yellow, blooming near the corners of the gravestones.

Jayna nodded. "My sister," Jayna cleared her throat, "when we were here for the funeral- I left. I panicked and used accidental magic to apparate back to Lydjah's house. And I didn't know till this summer but she'd snapped at the same moment. But instead of running away, she'd turned this bleak broken traditional place into… A marvel. I didn't understand when I visited here last year, thought that someone must have spelled it like this."

"You visited last year?"

"Aleron's birthday." Jayna whispered. Healer Cattermole gave her a small smile of pride at the use of her brother's name. "It was a particularly low point." Jayna pointed at one of the graves. Healer Cattermole was too far away to read the engraving on the stone, but she could see the small glasses balanced on top.

"Were they his?"

"Yeah." Jayna said.

"Did you look at the rest of the graves when you came here?" Jayna swallowed and shook her head.

"My mother-" Jayna coughed past the lump in her throat. "My mother, her sister, my grandmother and my step-grandfather weren't buried here. They didn't have the last name Blackwood so they weren't allowed."

"Where are they?" Jayna rested her hand on the grave in front of her, her father's.

"Dad would have hated that he wasn't with mum." The lump in her throat threatened to reappear. Jayna took some calming breaths. Healer Cattermole noted this was the first time she had spoken about her parents informally. Jayna's heart ached as she remembered how visible the love between her parents was every time they looked at her. Her father had always been the romantic of the two but just because Celina wasn't as expressive didn't mean she hadn't loved him back with the same fierceness she had about everything. "We fucked up, adhering to the traditions. Cara and I didn't know where the Daviau cemetery was. So my family was split up. My mother and Auntie Jozlyn were just… Bones. We buried them under the ruins of our house in England." Jayna wondered if her parents had managed to rest in peace, countries and a sea separating them. Then again, she wasn't entirely sure her mother's rationality would have cared that her lifeless bones weren't near her father's, as long as their souls were together. "And we gave my grandmother and her husband's remains to his family. I don't know where they're buried."

"Does that bother you?"

"I had a worse relationship with my grandmother than I did with Roland." Jayna eventually said, assuming, correctly, that would answer the question.

"And her husband?" Jayna shrugged.

"We lived under the same roof for my entire life, but I was still closer with my uncles and their families. So no, not him either."

"I think it might help you to visit Roland's grave. To know that he's never coming back." Jayna shuddered but did as she was bid, walking robotically over to three graves near the front of the fresh ones. Two of them were as fresh as the others, but the final one looked as if it had been there for much longer.

"Jayna Marjolaine Blackwood the first." Healer Cattermole made out, on the front of the older grave. "Your namesake?" Jayna frowned.

"My real paternal grandmother actually."

"What?"

"Pureblood's are an incestuous lot." Jayna said, pulling a face. Healer Cattermole decided she didn't want to know. She headed to the next grave in the row. "Roland Aleron Blackwood the second. 26th of April 1953- 10th July 2017." The line underneath his name was in Latin. Jayna read it quickly and blanched, horror rising in her eyes.

"What? What does it say?"

"Ardet nec consumitur. Burned but not destroyed." Healer Cattermole shuddered.

"What a creepy old man." Jayna bit her lip to stop the smile. She looked at the symbol drawn underneath the letters. The full moon looked back at her; a hooded eye in the centre of it. Jayna realised she'd just stumbled across the symbol of the Nightwatchers. "Is that a family symbol?" Jayna snorted.

"No. Our family symbol is an ebony wand." She didn't elaborate. "Broken we stand." She murmured, still looking at Roland's grave.

"Sorry?"

"Our family motto." Jayna said, snapping out of her trance. Healer Cattermole just nodded.

"If you want, I shall leave you to pay your respects to your family." Jayna looked at her. "It is natural to grieve Jayna. It does not make you weak."

"Don't leave the property." Jayna croaked out eventually.

"Why not?"

"The people who kidnapped Potter and I last year are still looking for us. This place is warded." Healer Cattermole blinked.

"I'll stay near the cemetery." She answered, trying not to let it show how shaken she was at the idea of being kidnapped by a group that had stolen children.

Jayna emerged a few hours later, the gate clicking shut behind her. She raised her head to meet Healer Clearwater's gaze, pulling her robes tighter around her body as the November chill hit her again. Her face was blotchy from tears but her expression was thoughtful. She didn't say anything, but the small smile the Healer gave her was answered with one of her own.

Lien was kind of concerned.

Not just about Jayna, whom they still hadn't heard from, but about everything that had happened last year. She stood with a cup of tea clutched in mitten-covered hands on the bridge outside the castle, and made a mental list of the unresolved problems from last year.

1) Who had cast the curse in the courtyard duel? Had it been that man that Sam and James had visited in Azkaban? Was it the spy in the school?

2) Who was the spy?

3) Did whomever owed her a life-debt, still owe her one?

4) Who had poured all the blood over Jayna in February?

5) Had the rest of her friends forgotten these questions or just dismissed them as unimportant?

She drummed her fingers on the lid of her mug. She sometimes wondered if the rest of her group had passions. She still played and wrote music all the time, but… Last year it had seemed important. This year her group was draining themselves on so much horror, so much confusion that just trying to survive was taking all of their energy. Jayna was dragging them all down into her pit of grief and despair.

Albus she knew was also a music fan. And Scorpius was apparently an artist, though he'd never admit it. James and Sam had an outlet in Quidditch, and Lydjah seemed to have an outlet in people. Molly spent a lot of time in the greenhouses, tutoring like Jayna did. Jayna was stretching herself too thin. Lots of emotion and nowhere to put it except in words that hurt everyone around her, regardless of if they were meant to. She didn't need a break; she needed structure, regularity.

Well, maybe a break too.

Lien couldn't say why, but she had a feeling Jayna had stopped writing and reading when she'd stopped sleeping properly.

Lien took a sip of her tea. Here she was, worrying about Jayna again. It was ridiculous. She caught a hint of a song in the back of her mind and shut her eyes to concentrate better. She fleshed it out in her thoughts, pulling notes and chords out of thin air, not noticing when her tea began to tip out of her mug and off the side of the bridge into the cavern very far below. She breathed in and let the song take over.

When it was done, the last note clinging to the inside of her head like blu-tack she ran inside, not stopping till she reached the music rooms and poured out her thoughts onto the piano. This, this is where she belonged.