disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just Arabella and her story.

Offers and Obstacles

Living with Harry Potter was… interesting. Interesting, yes, that's the word Arabella will settle on. Under any other circumstances, of course, she would be thrilled to live with someone like him, someone she cared about and knew would be a good roommate, but the problem was a combination of things that seemed out of her control.

One, their living arrangements were less than ideal. Their only logical option, Grimmauld Place, was still a terrible option nonetheless. The idea of raising a child next to shrunken house-elf heads or her shrieking grandmother made her sick in ways the baby never could. No child should have to suffer with Walburga in the same house. Then came their sleeping arrangement. While Arabella's bedroom would be big enough for both of them, they felt it was best to sleep in separate rooms for the time being. They had barely begun to discuss their own relationship and just jumping back in the sack – for a lack of better term – wouldn't be their brightest idea, and they were determined to make better decisions with a child on the way.

So then came the task of finding Harry a suitable room. The room he shared with Ron seemed small in comparison to a few years ago as well as the fact that Phineas Nigellus's portrait had unfortunately been restored and hung back up. Her grandparent's bedroom was ruled out immediately. The thought of sleeping in the same room as Walburga and Orion grossed them both. On the third floor were three extra rooms and the topmost had Sirius and Regulus's, but Harry didn't feel comfortable sleeping in their rooms. Arabella understood why he wouldn't want to sleep in Regulus's room. There were still clippings of Voldemort donning the walls and evidence of Regulus's pureblood supremacy beliefs. Not sleeping in Sirius's room, however, was harder for Arabella to wrap her head around.

"I don't understand why you won't just take Dad's room," Arabella complained for the fifth time that day. "I'm sure he won't mind and it's not like I take any offence, honest."

"You know it's not that," Harry said for the fifth time himself with a roll of his eyes. "I'd rather be closer to you in case something happens."

"Do you honestly want to sleep with Phineas then?" exclaimed Arabella, throwing her hands in the air.

"I could sleep in Hermione and Ginny's old room," he offered. "Same floor, just a room away."

"It's a small room, though," replied Arabella, her lips pursed. "Smaller than the one with Phineas. They were crammed in there."

Harry shrugged and said, "I'll make do."

They compromised in the end and made changes to the house. They moved Phineas Nigellus's portrait to the attic – "How dare you, child? What an absolute disgrace! You bring shame and humiliation upon my father's name!" – and replaced the twin beds with a full-sized one from the third floor. They weren't far apart, Harry slept better knowing that he was close enough to her because of an emergency, and Arabella was satisfied they redecorated his room. It made it feel as though it was their house, even if the change was rather minor.

Then came actually living together. It was nice enough, pleasant even. Harry woke up early, checked in on Arabella, made himself breakfast, and usually walked to work. Initially, Arabella woke up around the same time as Harry, ate breakfast with him, and tried to set herself some goals for the day. But as the days dragged on and passed her, she found it increasingly difficult to meet them. Cleaning the house was a herculean task that never seemed to end. Visiting Nymph was getting harder and harder when all she was met with were vacant and cold eyes. Andromeda came over most nights for dinner whenever Harry had to work late, but Arabella knew she didn't like being in this house with all those bad memories. Kreacher came over twice since they moved in. He was quite busy at Hogwarts, helping the professors and other house-elves. They now saw him as a leader after the battle and when he told Arabella about McGonagall giving him a promotion to head of kitchen staff, his chest puffed out every so slightly.

The problem that was truly holding her back came at night. Harry worked long hours as deemed necessary by Trenholm and other Ministry officials in an effort to catch dark wizards, so he became a heavy sleeper these days due to exhaustion. He seemed grateful enough for it, despite coming home at midnight most nights. Arabella, however, did not have that luxury. She was lucky enough to get a few hours of peaceful sleep before the nightmares settled in. Some nights were the usual: Bellatrix looming over her, blade shining under the light, green streaking towards her… Other nights were Sirius falling through the veil, just out of reach – Remus's face thrown apart, blood soaking into the cold stone floors of Hogwarts – her running through the maze Bellatrix built just for her, blood pumping in her hears, beasts chasing after her, snarking and snapped their snouts.

She wakes up in a cold sweat every night, shivering and unable to properly breathe, and then the worst part comes along – she thinks about them: her mother dying with the impression that her husband abandoned them, that he betrayed their friends, that he left her alone with malicious intents and that she was alone and was left behind by the rest of her family. Her handsome father, free from the shackles of Azkaban and immediately thrown back into a house full of dark and haunting memories that poisoned his mind. A prison for another prison. He was never truly free, not until the very end when he smiled and sank back into the veil. She thinks of Ted, his body somewhere out there, probably rotten by now. They can't even give him a proper funeral and Andromeda had to ask her if it was okay to bury one of his ties with Remus. And then Mad-Eye, her Mad-Eye, his body was probably blasted into a thousand pieces, Death Eaters rejoicing and dancing out his dismantled body, finally getting one over the old Auror, the bane of their existence.

The part that always ripped her heart in half and kept her up at night, was thinking about Remus. About the fact that he was alone when faced with death, that he tried to keep her soul intact, spare her of killing Bellatrix – he never wanted that for her, never wanted her to stoop down to Bellatrix's level – he loved her enough to do it himself. But he never realized he was out of practice, out of the game too long, he would never have won against someone like Bellatrix, Voldemort's most loyal and talented lieutenant… And now that she, Arabella, was pregnant, all she could think about was the fact that he was her father and mother wrapped in one and he would have made an amazing grandfather. He would have loved this child wholeheartedly and regardless of blood, and his initial disappointment would have been short-lived, but it wouldn't have mattered because he would be there for her and he believed her in so much, how could she possibly fail? But now, alone in her room, darkness all around her body and in her mind, how could she possibly succeed without him?

Some days, when the hole in her heart seemed larger than normal and the yearning harder to push at bay, she finds herself walking through the house like a ghost, feeling the desire that will never be met, the regret that can never be mended, the dissatisfaction with her own failings, the nostalgia that lived within her bones… She slept every night, she woke up every morning, and she relived it all over again.

The morning of Harry's birthday, Kingsley visited her with a guest in tow. Arabella wasn't exactly pleased to see a Ministry member in her house, but Kingsley vouched for the guest and Arabella made due. Courtney Jones-Mayford was a pale, tall woman standing only a few inches short of Kingsley himself. She had a long, thin pencil neck, dark hair cut short around her jaw without a strand out of place, and dark eyes that seemed skeptical as she entered the house. Arabella let them down the stairs, into the kitchen, and passed over some baklavas she picked up at the market yesterday. She sat across from the Ministry workers, bracing herself.

"It's good to see you again, Arabella," Kingsley began with a smile. "I am truly sorry about Remus. He was a good man and a good friend."

Arabella was fond of Kingsley, considered him a friend despite their age difference, but if he mentioned Remus one more time, she was going to poke him in the eye.

"Thank you," said Arabella, quiet. "You, um, you wanted to talk about something?"

"Yes. As you know, Courtney is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, which is – er – me," Kingsley added with a small chuckle. "Sorry, still getting used to this title. Courtney, here, wanted to come along and ask a favour of you."

Arabella's eyebrows furrowed as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the wooden chair. Not only has she never met this woman, much less heard of her, but she wanted to ask Arabella a favour?

Courtney Jones-Mayford sat up straighter, if even possible given her stature, and looked directly at Arabella. She attempted a small smile, but forgo it before settling on a stern look. Arabella wondered if she thought that was going to work and was quite unnerved by the older woman's presence.

"As you are aware, we have not yet prosecuted the current Death Eaters awaiting trial," said Courtney, placing her clasped hands on the table. "The Ministry, of course, has current plans to do so as soon and swiftly as possible, and such a thing cannot go by without celebration –"

"Celebration?" repeated Arabella, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

"Yes, of course," the woman said briskly. "Celebrating the imprisonment of these Death Eaters who have terrorized our community and the Muggle world for years, and to give some form of closure to the families who have lost their loved ones. The Ministry of Magic, in our efforts to reunite the Wizarding world and bring out those who are still hiding, will be hosting an event. We would officially like to extend an invitation to you, Miss Black, and ask you to be one of the keynote speakers at this event."

Arabella's eyebrows continued to rise. "You want me to speak?"

"Yes."

"At this – this ball?"

"Hmm, more of an event or function rather than a ball," corrected Courtney. "There will be food provided, of course, and this will be after business hours, allowing other Ministry workers the opportunity to attend if they so wish to. We also plan on unveiling the new statue that will sit upon the fountain in the atrium. I think you will like what we pick out, Miss Black. We plan on honouring those who have fought for our new world, but I won't give too much away."

She looked rather pleased with herself while Arabella, however, was in shock. Kingsley was looking rather far off, occasionally taking a bite of the baklava. When he noticed Arabella staring at him, he gave her a small smile and nodded.

"So, you want me to speak at this event, then?" she asked, leaning forward. "Both of you?"

"Yes," said Courtney.

But Arabella didn't want to hear the answer from her, she wanted to hear it from someone else, someone that was sitting across from her and someone she admired deeply. She looked pointedly at Kingsley, hoping and praying for the answer she wanted.

"I think the event is a good idea," Kingsley said rather diplomatically. "We need to prove to all wizard-kind that we are united together after the devastation we have faced in the past year. This night will be a good way to honour those who have fought for us and take a step in the right direction together."

"It doesn't have to be a long speech," Courtney interjected, her voice honeyed. "Just something inspirational and heartwarming. Perhaps something about your parents or Mr. Lupin –"

"No," snapped Arabella, her jaw set. "Yeah, I'm not – I'm not doing that."

Courtney glared at Arabella, her eyes becoming slits as her own fingernails dug into her skin.

"Miss Black, while I do understand your hesitance, this, however, is bigger than the three of us put together. This is about uniting our already fragile world. Having the public see you and Mr. Potter give speeches –"

"Harry agreed to this?" Arabella asked suddenly, looking at her and Kingsley.

"He had conditions, but he did agree in the end," Courtney answered. "Mr. Potter understands that this is good for all of us. By having this night, by honouring those who have given the greatest sacrifice, by coming together and mourning and celebrating as one, we can move forward into a brighter future. Please, Miss Black, I implore you to accept this offer."

Arabella heaved a sigh. She felt exhausted, her stomach was churning, and the more Courtney sat across from her, the more irritated she became."

"I'll think about it," she said in a strained tone.

Courtney looked as though she wanted to say something else, but Kinglsey stopped her with a small shake of his head and she pursed her lips.

"I'll be sending you a letter in a few days, then," Courtney settled on, her tone stiff. "Thank you for your time, Miss Black. I look forward to meeting you again."

Kinsley escorted Courtney out of the kitchen and back to the entrance. Arabella didn't bother playing perfect host with them. The baklava that was offered to them was more than enough and she didn't expect Courtney in the first place. It was supposed to just be her and Kingsley, the latter now walking down the stairs into the kitchen. He gave her an apologetic smile and sat across from her again.

"You sure she's on our side?" she asked him gravelly.

"Courtney?" asked Kingsley. He laughed and shook his head. "She might be a bit unconventional and pushy, but she's effective and I've known her for years. She's the furthest thing from a Death Eater. We think this function will be a good idea for us moving forward."

"We?"

"The Office of the Minister of Magic."

"So, you and a bunch of people you… trust?" asked Arabella.

Kingsley looked rather patient as he said, "Yes. I picked Courtney because I trust her and I handpicked the others because I trust them as well and they've earned it. I would not have done so otherwise, Arabella, and I would have hoped by now, I would have earned your trust as well."

Arabella blushed and readjusted herself quickly before nodding.

"It's not a terrible idea, of course," Kingsley continued, slightly more laid back given his tone. "The reasons she gave you were quite sound in theory and I do think we found a nice way to honour those like Remus, Fred, Albus…"

Arabella ran her fingers through her hair, feeling horrible and small and even dirty as she thought about the idea of speaking in front of a large group of people about Remus when they despised his very existence.

"I'll think about it, okay?" she croaked, looking everywhere on the table instead of him. "You don't have to sell the idea to me, I got it all from Courtney."

"That's not the real reason why I'm here today, Arabella. I wanted to come and give you an offer."

"Yeah?"

"I came here to offer you a job."

Arabella's eyes snapped up. "What?"

"I've come to offer you a job."

"A job-job?"

"Yes, a job-job at the Ministry."

"And what would I be doing at this job-job?" Arabella asked, slightly hunched over the long wooden table as she stared at Kingsley.

Somehow, she found this moment quite amusing, and so did Kingsley. He gave her a crooked smile and stared right back at her.

"There's a reason why we haven't prosecuted the Death Eaters we currently have in custody. I have only recently appointed Grace Chin as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was the natural successor to Amelia Bones's chair after her unfortunate death, but Rufus appointed Pius Thicknesse and we all know how that turned out. Since the start of the war, Grace has been hiding. She is rather outspoken and a Muggle-born."

"A Death Eater's worst nightmare," murmured Arabella.

"She's effective, she's strong-willed, she's pragmatic, unbiased, idealistic, fair and firm, and she can be quite a trickster when the moment calls for it. I think you two would work rather well together."

"I'm confused, what exactly would I be doing with Grace Chin?"

"She'll be taking over as the Department Head and I was hoping that you would join her as a Junior Assistant to the Department."

"So, I fetch her coffee in the morning?"

"No, no, not that," Kingsley corrected her, shaking his head. "That does remind me, I do need to change the official name of this position… Perhaps Advocate to Witches and Wizards of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or perhaps just Advocate of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"What are you going on about?" asked Arabella, thoroughly confused.

"I spoke to Minerva about this a while ago and she told me that you declared –" he let out a small chuckle " – you wanted to be Head of the Department in front of Dolores Umbridge and she was absolutely livid, of course –"

"Of course," repeated Arabella with a small incline of her head.

Kingsley quietly chuckled again and nodded.

"She told me that you want to fix our broken system and make a difference. What better chance than to work as Junior Assistant – pending name change in the meantime."

But Arabella wasn't sold and found multiple things to fight him on.

"I don't – if I accept this job, I would have to work closely with the Wizengamot."

There was a small pause. Kingsley didn't seem to have realized that she had finished her sentence rather than ask him a question.

"Yes, you would."

"Well, then, don't you see the problem?" Arabella added, her voice slightly high. "You want me to work closely with those old pureblood crones that have kept us back by decades because they think the old way is the better way, and they're only in those positions because their bloody fathers croaked of old age and the – the – the – oh, no, a Muggle-born's in the same vicinity as me, oh goodness, oh good heavens, oh now, whatever shall I do!"

She fainted against her chair with a small snarl.

"So then change it," said Kingsley as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Change the system, change how members of the Wizengamot are selected. Implement a mandatory application and selection process. Give every single wizard a fair trial, advocate for bills and legislations that will push us towards the future. You know how corrupt the system is, you saw it with Sirius and Remus, you've seen the way people like Dolores and Pius and Cornelius and Barty Crouch conduct themselves, how they abused the system, used it for their own advantages to push their own agenda. For far too long, we have allowed these things to happen because holding onto this tired sense of bloody superiority was the only thing we ever had. Forget about the majority of the world, just look at Europe – look at how far behind we are. The only thing we might be in competition on is education, but the rest of it? Arithmancy? New Magic? History and ritual and population growth? Do you realize we don't even have a proper bill protecting Muggle-borns from being rounded up like cattle – "

"So that's how –" Arabella said quietly.

"Exactly! That's how You-Know-Who was able to easily, easily seize power! Bills and blood and power and loopholes his minions found so easily! We have nothing in place to secure ourselves from another way and the ones holding us back aren't even those on the Wizengamot, it's everyone out that that think like that, that think our bloods are purer than Grace or Hermione's. The system of our world is corrupt and broken. I need help fixing it. I cannot do this alone."

Arabella heaved a sigh, feeling her insides crumble at the weight of everything he was saying.

"Why me? Why not Hermione or Harry or Ron or – or – um, Andy or Percy –"

"Percy Weasley officially resigned from the Ministry of Magic as of Monday morning, Andromeda would never accept this position even if I were to give it to her, Harry and Ron are doing wonderful work at the Auror Office, Hermione has applied to work for the Department of Magical Creature Regulations and also plans on retrieving her parents in Australia."

"So, I was your second option, then?" Arabella asked quietly.

"Hermione wasn't an option," Kingsley told her with a small shrug and his fingers intertwined. "Don't get me wrong, she'll do fantastic work in Ministry, but this specifically isn't for Muggle-borns. I thought you would understand, don't you? You are one of the last descendants of one of the last great houses of our world, and even if you don't believe it, those old crones in the Wizengamot value your name. They will listen to you in ways they will never listen to Grace, even though they should."

"None of them will listen."

"But enough will and enough to lead a shift in our community."

"I thought you wanted to move away from blood superiority. Having me around just because of my name sort of contradicts that."

"I'm not asking you just because of your name, Arabella, come on now, but having you will be instrumental. The House of Black is the oldest and greatest house, and your name means something. You don't think like them – thank, Merlin – but the old guard will take your word into consideration and we can use that."

"You have plans, don't you?" Arabella asked him softly. She admired him, she truly did.

"Many," he said shortly. "I want to dissolve self-serving factions, rid our world of outdated ideals, throw every Death Eater and pretender alike in Azkaban, shorten the gap between the old and new generation –"

"You're too idealistic."

"The world around me is too pessimistic and too defeatist, and if I may be blunt, you are only saying this because of your recent loss. Any other time or situation, you would have accepted my offer in a heartbeat."

Arabella bit the inside of her mouth, her lips thin, and her chest seized in tight knots.

"I'm pregnant. Still want to offer me this job?"

Kingsley didn't even seem fazed by her declaration as he told her, carefully, "You do have, er, a sort of glow about you. If you squint."

Arabella laughed at that end bit, her shoulders relaxing.

"I am in no position to be picky about the people we hire," Kingsley conceded. "Many families are still in hiding and I want good people like you, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Grace in the Ministry. I do think you will like her."

Arabella sighed and licked her lips. "I'll get into a lot of trouble. I'm sure some old bat will complain about me and make you do something about me sooner or later."

"I expect nothing less."

"They'll wanna throw me in Azkaban."

"Let them try."

"I'll go mad and crazy dealing with them, especially if they start sitting in on trials. I'll probably hex one of them."

"I don't blame you, but I also know you won't."

"I'll be on maternity leave soon enough."

"And your job will still be there when you come back."

"There are better people out there."

"I'm sure there are, but I do think I found the right person for the job at hand. Good thing she's sitting in front of me."

Arabella heaved another heavy sigh and rubbed her cheeks with her knuckles.

"I'll do it if you give me a detailed explanation of what the – Advocacy, Junior Assistant, whatever it's called – is. I know I'll have to work with the Wizengamot eventually, but the actual job and what I'm going to be doing for the Department –"

Kingsley proceeds to explain certain aspects of her job, that she will be helping Grace Chin in gathering information and evidence, and also being a representative during Ministry hearings. It sounded rather complex and tiring, and she was sure that they were days when she would come home feeling defeated. But hearing the way Kingsley describe it lit something up within her. They would be able to prevent others from losing parents due to a corrupt system, give everyone a fair trial, stop people from buying their way out of Azkaban…

"I'll have Calliope send you the details of your duties and what Grace Chin with all be doing for the Department since you both will be working closely together. She's still underground at the moment but will be reporting to the Ministry in a week's time. I can arrange a meeting for you both –"

"I'm not sure if I'm going to accept it yet," Arabella said shakily. "I just need some time to think it through."

"Do you still have doubts about the job or yourself?" Kingsley frowned at her.

"A little bit of both, more the second option than the other, honestly, but it's not just that," Arabella shook her head slowly. "I need to just think about it. It's not just me, but also…"

She waved vaguely around her abdomen, slightly uncomfortable and perhaps a bit embarrassed, especially in front of Kingsley.

Kingsley nodded and then said, "Understandable. I will have Calliope sent you a detailed description of your duties and a contract with the Ministry. If you do agree, bring it with you Tuesday morning. If not –"

Kingsley broke off, unable to finish his sentence as awkward silence washed through them.

"I do hope you will accept and if you don't, I will come to terms with it, eventually," he added with a playful tone. He then looked down at his pocket watch and frowned. "I'll have to head out, duty calls. Think about my offer and Courtney's. Her hearts in the right place, after all. Take care, Arabella, and congratulations on the baby."

He left her alone in the kitchen with a lot of ideas and scenarios to think about.

In the heart of London, at the end of the block of Whitehall, sat a small diner frequented by many government officials, Muggles and wizards, though the owner of Cafe Moxley's did not know about the latter. Harry sat near the window, his chicken sandwich half-eaten and the small side salad barely touched. He supposed he should be happier. It was a beautiful Saturday, the sun was shining, barely a cloud in sight, even the city folk seemed kinder, what more could he ask for?

Harry cringed as he played around with his drink, trying to crush the ice with the straw. Working on a Saturday wasn't supposed to be common, but as Trenholm quite often told them, these days were unprecedented and since there was no Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement, the burden fell on them to be vigilant and strong-willed. Because of course, it did. Initially, Harry didn't mind all that burden Trenholm placed on them. He was used to it by now with everything Dumbledore placed on him at an early age, but today was too terrible to bear. Today was his birthday and the office surprised him with cake and a sickening celebration.

It was incredibly jarring, seeing everyone rush towards his desk, a large sheet cake in Chopra and Pearson's hands, the balloons and streamers popping in midair suddenly, the smiling faces bearing down at him, tears in their eyes as they sang For He's a Jolly Good Fellow, and then thanking him for everything, for saving their families, their world, their livelihood, purging the world of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and continuing to fight for them. Ron and Neville tried to hold them off, but more and more people arrived from different departments and they were outnumbered as the Aurors handed cake around Harry's desk, closing in on his small cubicle as though it were nothing. It didn't help that Courtney Jones-Mayford came around during the height of the celebration to ask him a favour that made every part and inch of his bones and muscles scream. After she agreed to his condition that his speech would be short, he agreed. It was a favour for Kingsley and though he hated to admitted it, Harry knew he had a role to play and knew he had to be at the banquet no matter what. There were still families that needed to be consoled, told that their loved ones did not die in vain, that they had captured the Death Eaters responsible, that Voldemort was truly gone and rid of this world, that they were safe once and for all. They needed their symbol, their guide, the boy who became their saviour, the Boy Who Lived, their Chosen One, the burdened Potter raised by Muggles…

It was all too much, too soon, right in his face, whispering in her ears, at his doorsteps, in his mind constantly wherever he went… He felt as though she was going to crack at the weight of it all, the burden of their world, the knowledge that he will always be followed and watched, and all of that would extend towards his unfortunate child that just happened to also be with someone that will always be scrutinized by every wizard as well.

He contemplated talking about it with someone, all that burden, but it was difficult. Hermione thought about her parents every day and made plans to track them down in Australia. Ron was torn between trying to draw George out of his room, being a good Auror, and helping Hermione. Ginny was hardly ever at the Burrow, spending most of her time either with Neville or Ginny. Mrs. Tonks was out of the question. He didn't even know how to navigate around that woman. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley weren't an option either, he could not burden them any more than he already had, and that notion extended to Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Percy.

The most sensible option was to talk to Arabella. To put it plainly, they've known each other for years, they've confided in each other before, they've slept together and there's certainly proof of it, and he knew they were connected in ways that not even Hermione or Ron could understand, but it was difficult. They were so different now, so tired and distant. He sees the way she walks about Grimmauld Place, the way she stares off, the way she shuts down and becomes empty at the mention of Remus, the pain and emptiness and sorrow that has taken its toll on her body. She was already going through so much, trying to navigate a world without Remus and coming to terms that in a few short months she'll be a mother, so adding his own personal problems on top of her own was… he couldn't do that to her, not the mother of his child, not the woman who felt like home between her shoulders and the crook of her neck, not her, especially her.

He couldn't remember the last time she laughed. It felt like ages ago since he heard those musical notes flow through the air like water against a babbling brook, his ears perking up. He wished he could have bottled that sound sooner so that he could hear it every night and rest peacefully.

Harry looked down at Fabian Prewett's watch. The small break Trenholm allotted for him was over ten minutes ago. He got up, tucked in the chair, gathered the pitiful scrapes in front of him, and threw it away. Above the garbage was a bulletin full of flyers of college kids looking for roommates, some metal band audition, lost cats and dogs and – pet lizard? Harry was slightly amused – someone had posted a lasagna recipe, polaroid pictures of patrons throughout the years. But one particular posting caught his eye. It wasn't quite as lavish or dramatic as the missing poster for a tabby cat, or even have a picture like the recipe.

The flyer was for a self-help support group. The letters were big and bold stating a time and location with little slips to tear off and keep. He stared at it for a moment, his fingers twitching.

"Hi, there!" said a cheery voice behind him.

He turned to see a rather kind and comely woman standing behind him. She had dark straight hair, dark eyes with crow's feet despite only looking a few years older than him, and olive skin. Her smile was wide and bright, her navy suit pressed and free of lint, and she was clutching a disposable coffee cup.

"I hear the counsellor that overlooks those sessions is pretty cool," she told him in a rather whimsical tone. "Pretty great, pretty great, really listens and connects with the others, and she's got great, great jokes."

"Yeah?" Harry said offhandedly.

"Here's an idea, you should take one!" the woman said to Harry. "You know, come for the help, stay for the jokes."

"I'm fine," Harry said tightly.

"I guess we all are in one way or another," she now dropped the cheerful tone, becoming low and gentle. "But talking to people –"

"I have plenty of people to talk to," Harry cut across.

The woman smiled at him, ripped a slip off the flyer, and handed it to him.

"I often find that I open up to people that don't directly affect my life. It's easier to talk and be listened to and, in the end, isn't that what we all want? To be heard and acknowledge in whatever battles we face? Come to a meeting, you don't have to talk unless you want to, but if you do, we'll be there to listen and share our own stories as well."

As he walked along the pavement, down the flights of stairs, and into the underground public toilet, he clutched that little paper in his hands, the details of the meeting imprinted in his memory. When he walked through the heavy oak doors of the Auror office, Murray announced that his birthday had been published in the Daily Prophet – "Front page, Potter, got a lovely picture of you too!" – he decided then and there that he would at least go to one meeting.

At six o'clock on the night of their small celebration, Arabella and Harry left Grimmauld Place, the door closing as Walburga's screech filled the air. They walked down the small steps, held each other's hands, and Apparated straight to the Burrow. The birthday boy was dressed in blue jeans and a nice jade button-up that complimented him. Arabella was dressed in a loose, dark floral dress that went down to her knees. Though she was hardly showing and had the smallest of bumps, she was still rather paranoid. Her friends would be oblivious, but Mrs. Weasley? Someone like her would easily be able to tell if something was wrong with Arabella and Arabella wasn't ready to announce her pregnancy to everyone quite yet. She didn't want to get bombarded with questions and accusations, and neither did Harry.

"You look nice, by the way," said Harry.

They landed on the dusty lane just outside the protective barrier of the Burrow. Arabella felt rather dizzy and nauseous due to their mode of transportation. She placed a careful hand on her abdomen and tried to smile at him.

"You look nice too. Spiffy even," she added.

They quietly made their way through the gates and up the lame towards the dimly lit house. The sun was beginning to set, giving the sky a beautiful gradient of red, yellow, pink, and purple hues. Clouds were still moving in the sky, birds were flocking over them, and the grass was still. Though Harry wasn't keen on it, Mrs. Weasley wanted to celebrate his birthday and once she realized Neville's was just the day before, it was all the more reason, according to her. Harry couldn't say no to her and so here they were. In the garden were two battered old tables and chairs all around. The cutlery was already out, two piles of gifts were placed on the middle of both tables, and the chickens seemed to have escaped their coop.

Just as they were about to knock on the kitchen door, it was suddenly thrown open. Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of them with a small smile. She looked rather tired, her hair was slightly frizzy, bags under her eyes, and skin fairly pale.

"It's good to see you both," she said softly, leaning in and giving Harry a tight hug. "Happy Birthday, Harry, dear. We're almost done in here, just bringing everything out."

Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around Arabella and gave her back a small rub. Soon enough, the two tables were covered with dishes of Mrs. Weasley's cooking, and the garden was overflowing with guests. Neville arrived sometime after Arabella and Harry did, Andromeda and Teddy were right behind him, and Luna made her way sometime later, skipping gracefully into the garden. Together, the eight Weasleys, sans George, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Andromeda, Teddy, Harry, and Arabella settled themselves down to eat as several bewitched lanterns hung over them. Arabella was somehow stuck between Harry and Percy with Hermione right across from her.

"Hagrid wrote this morning," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry down the table. "He unfortunately couldn't make it, he's trying to find a nice giant colony for Grawp. He said negotiations are taking longer than necessary."

"Why would he have to negotiate?" asked Harry.

"Some giant colonies are rather strict and wary of outsiders," answered Charlie. "Given that Hagrid would most likely want to visit Grawp frequently, they'll need to set up some sort of system or schedule so that the other giants are aware and not caught off guard. It's been centuries since the last attack on a giant colony, but they're still on guard, nonetheless."

Arabella stared down her plate. The chicken was perfect and the potatoes were cooked just the way she liked them, but her stomach kept churning and she tried her best to at the very least, take a few bites. Teddy was at the end of the table, leaning on Andromeda, and looking at the table. His hair changed its colour ever so slightly towards a dark orange, and Bill pulled funny faces until Teddy gave his little throaty, toddler laugh. Mrs. Weasley's smile faltered before she took out her wand and summoned some toys for him to play with.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The only one making any sort of noise was Teddy. Percy seemed more subdued than usual after announcing that he quit his job at the Ministry, Harry was nodding along to something Luna was telling him, Neville and Ginny kept inching closer towards each other, Fleur and Bill were giving all their attention towards Teddy, and once they were done with their dinner, Mrs. Weasley brought out the cake. It was a three-tier cake with pink and green frosting, and though it looked slightly messy, it had character. They all gave a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday to Harry and Neville, both terribly red, and passed out the cake.

The moment her slice was placed in front of her, Arabella jumped up. She was already feeling so queasy from the day and not dealing with it sooner made it much worse. She excused herself, headed towards the house, shot up to the second floor, threw the bathroom door open, and spilled Mrs. Weasley's food in the toilet.

She must have been a sight for sore eyes, kneeling on the tiled floor, head over the toilet, wrenching sounds echoing in the room. She slowly got to her feet, flushed, pushed herself towards the basin, and splashed some water on her face. She suddenly felt very hot, congested, and – were the walls closing in?

"What's wrong with you?"

Arabella turned towards the dark hallway. George stared down at her, emerging from the shadows and towards the dim bathroom light. He looked thinner since the last time she saw him, his hair overgrown and dirty, his cheeks hollow and covered in grime, his shoulders looking as though they were about to pop off, his lips chapped, and he was wearing pyjamas that looked overdue for a good wash.

"I heard you," George told her, his voice hoarse and flat. It was a terrible contrast between George of yesteryear and George now. "Vomiting. You – You got some –"

He picked up the loo roll and ripped off a couple of pieces. For a moment, it was rather sweet, both of them standing under the dimly lit bulb, both worn out, tried and sorrowful, and then it was immediately ripped away as George roughly wiped her cheeks and threw the piece in the trash. She almost recoiled at the look of disgust he gave her.

"What's wrong with you? You've got something or –"

"It's a bug," Arabella said dismissively.

"No, that's not what I meant," he snapped. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "How the fuck have you not offed yourself yet?"

"George –"

"Don't 'George' me," he snarled, taking a step towards her. "How are you still standing here when Lupin's dead, your parents are dead, your – your –"

"Goerge, stop –"

"No, I want to know," he said roughly, grabbing her arm. "How can you even walk knowing that they're gone? How could you go on knowing that – that – that –"

He released her suddenly, causing her to stumbled backwards, her footing gone. She quickly grabbed hold of the metal towel rack, stopping herself from smashing into the tub.

"I don't know what you want from me," Arabella croaked, her throat clenching. "I don't know how I'm standing here or why I even bother liv –"

"I do," said George in a disgusted and strangled tone, as though struggling to stop himself. "I understand everything now, actually. You could never know what it's like to lose the other half of yourself, to look towards your left and realize it's empty, to know that there's this piece of you missing, gone and dead and buried, and you… you never loved Lupin, did you? You never loved him the way I loved Fred. You could never understand."

He practically spat the last little bit, glaring at her, and for a moment, she was scared, wondering if he was going to advance on her again. For a second, he looked capable of hurting her and Arabella didn't know if she would have the heart to fight back. She didn't have to think much on the subject, when a hand reached out from the darkness and clasped his shoulder. They both turned to see Mrs. Weasley standing in the hallway, a head or two shorter than her son, and faced lined with anguish.

"Go back to your room, Georgie," she whispered. "I'll bring your dinner up soon. This is not the time."

George shot a glare back at Arabella before walking towards his room and slamming the door in his wake. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were trained on the floor and when the slam echoed back into the bathroom, she sighed and looked up at Arabella.

"Come along, Arabella, I made some tea for us."

Arabella followed after her, slightly dazed and completely in shock by what's occurred. She could never have anticipated George finding her sickness in the bathroom and certainly not yelling at her either. She could hardly process his words, his mouth twisting and twitching as he shouted that he loved Fred more than she could ever love Remus.

"We're all going through it right now, grief," Mrs. Weasley confessed in the empty kitchen. "Please don't hold it against George, he's taking it the hardest. In the right state, he would never have even thought those things. He's going through the stages right now. One minute he's silent, the other he's fighting us, and the next day… Well, you know how it is, I'm sure. Sit, sit."

Arabella sat at the table as Mrs. Weasley placed a plate of biscuits on the table and their teacups.

"It's – it's fine," Arabella squeaked, her eyes prickling. "I – I do get it, yeah. I miss Fred too."

Mrs. Weasley's small smile faltered for a second before widening.

"He was himself right until the very end. He was so brave, my little boy. He made choices in the end, they both did, him and Remus. I'm proud of them. They were true to the very end and they meant all of it, their choices."

Arabella nodded, glancing down at the tea, her heart feeling as though it were going to fail at any given moment. She tried to lift the cup to her lips, but couldn't bring herself to it.

"How far along are you?"

Arabella's lips twitched. Of course, she knew.

"Only found out a few weeks ago. About two or three months now."

"And this happened when…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off, slightly unsure of herself.

"Yes, when we were gone. I think… we both expected to die and thought –"

"Caution to the wind, I suppose?" quipped Mrs. Weasley.

"Something like that, yeah," replied Arabella, running her fingers through her hair.

Mrs. Weasley brought her cup to her lips, took a sip, and Arabella was rather surprised to see her smiling.

"Well, under any circumstances I suppose I ought to yell at you both, for being so reckless, but I'm sure Andromeda already did that for me, and I myself had Bill around your age. It would be quite hypocritical of me to claim the higher ground."

She let out a tiny laugh and sniffed. She looked around her kitchen, her eyes glossy.

"This house used to just be one-bedroom, did you know? My uncle left this for us in his will. It was nothing at the time, barely a small barn, but when Charlie came along, we built more rooms. Stone by stone, this one and the next, all the rooms on top of each other… We did that together, Arthur and I. Back in those days, I could hardly get out of bed. I made myself sick worrying over my brother, but Arthur was there. We built our life like that, slowly and carefully and together. We built this house, this family, and… it can be hard, yes, but it's so worth it, so worth all that pain and grief, and you'll love the little thing so much you could burst! And then you'll give the little one brothers and sisters – hopefully more sisters than the one I gave – and you'll love them all and they'll tease each other and chase each other in the garden and you'll make more room so their friends can come over and – and – and –"

Her voice began trembling, her eyes far away, and Arabella reached across the table to clasp her hand. She held it tightly between her own and they sat there for a moment, gathering their breaths and their thoughts.

"I'm reminiscing," Mrs. Weasley whispered, gently stroking Arabella's hand. "You know, when Ron wrote to us that he made friends in his first year, I couldn't believe it. He said that being your friend was easy and cool, and I was so shocked. Here I am, just doing house chores, his letter comes, and then I'm sitting in the kitchen remembering both your parents. They were so bright and brave and in love. I couldn't imagine being so young and doing what they did, and I look at you both now, you and Harry, so much like them, bright and brave and in love. They were good people, your parents. They were like my Fred, you know. True until the very end."

Mrs. Weasley let out another tiny laugh and patted Arabella's hand.

"It's going to be hard, raising a child, but Arthur and I will help in any way we can. Here, I even have a little something for you. It's not much, but it should do the trick…"

She walked towards the living room and came back with a small stack of thick cards wrapped in a brown ribbon. She placed it in front of Arabella and smiled widely.

"Copies of my recipes, all adjusted since you're now eating for two. Can't go wrong with any of them, steak and chips, fish and chips, gran's meatloaf and trifle – separate recipes, of course – strawberry shortcake, French onion soup, all the works. If you have any trouble with them –"

"I do know where you live," commented Arabella, flipping through the stack, her mouth-watering and her stomach flipping in glee. "I think the baby appreciates it too."

"Have you thought of names, then?"

Arabella shrugged and gave Mrs. Weasley a small grin.

"Thinking about Mandrake, you know, works for a boy or a girl."

Mrs. Weasley was mortified.

"Question," Harry said in a rather prompt manner as they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, their feet planted firmly on the last step. "Why did Mrs. Weasley hug me and whisper, 'Don't name it Mandrake'?"

Arabella's lips twitched, trying her hardest not to laugh.

"I told her that's what the baby's name's going to be. Works for a boy or a girl."

Harry was apprehensive, his face in pain, and pleaded, "Please don't name the child 'Mandrake'."

"Maybe."

"Arabella…"

"I won't."

"You say that, but somehow I don't believe you."

A low throaty laugh escaped Arabella's mouth as she opened the door to their house. Mad-Eye's voice did not greet them any longer, nor did a dusty figure of Professor Dumbledore, but the moment the door opened, the curtains flung open dramatically and Walburga's screech filled the air.

"Filth! Scum of the earth! Abomination of my forefathers, how dare you step foot into this house, how dare you show your filthy half-blood face! Dirt of my foot, shame of my –"

Harry snapped his wand towards her and with a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut.

"Huh, I never thought about this, but I guess I can't change into my Animagus form," muttered Arabella, shutting the door behind them. "I suppose I could, but who knows if that'll work."

"Best not risk it, honestly," said Harry with a small shrug.

"That's fair," sighed Arabella as they began walking up the stairs towards their rooms. "Speaking of, um, risking situations, Kingsley came by today."

"Really, what about?"

"He came and offered me a job. A pretty good one, in fact."

They passed the row of mounted elf heads and the lights flickered around them.

"That's fantastic! What is it?"

Arabella gave him an uneasy smile.

"I'm not sure what the title is, but I'm going to be helping the Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Grace Chin. I'll be gathering information and helping prepare cases and other things as needed such as stuff with the Wizengamot – and I'll be helping the upcoming trials. He's going to send me more information about the job, but… I don't know, it sounds worth it, right? I mean, I'll be doing something worthwhile in a way. What do you think?"

Harry looked just as nervous as he did when he requested that she not name their child 'Mandrake.' They reached the second landing and she looked at him expectantly.

"It… it does sound worth it, yes, and they'll need help with the trials coming up soon, but are you sure you want to do this? It's going to be stressful and with you being, you know, pregnant… I don't want you to be any more stressed than you already are."

She winced and fretted from foot to foot.

"I mean, I'm sure it's going to be stressful, but if I can, I don't know, make a difference then it's worth it right?"

"You're already quite impactful, to be honest," commented Harry with a lopsided smirk.

"No, I meant… look, if I can stop another Arabella from happening, then it's worth it –"

"What's wrong with –"

"Dad didn't get a fair trial and Remus was – he was constantly looked down upon his whole life because there were no laws in place to help him. If – if there's some way we can prevent that for every happening again, to stop the cycle, then… we agreed that I should get a job, why not this one?"

"I'm not arguing against it," Harry said gently, "I just don't want you to be in any more stressful situations than you've already been in. If you want to take this job, I get it and I'll support you. If you don't, I'll still support your decision. Whatever you want to do. Just take it easy on yourself. There's nothing wrong with Arabella Black. She's nice and you should be nice to her."

She felt rather awkward and agitated after his declaration. He was so sweet, and she undeserving and unworthy of his kindness. But he was also wrong, Arabella Black did not deserve to be off the hook. She should atone for her sins, for her failures, for all the wrong she's done in her life and the pain she's inflicted on others… Kingsley presenting a way for her to make amends with the world, to stop another Arabella from ever happening, and she was going to do it. Stop the cycle, stop separating parents from their child, and maybe one day, when she tells Teddy just how sorry she is, he'll forgive her.

"I don't know, we'll see," Arabella settled on with a small smile as she took a step towards her room and opening the door. "I think I'm gonna take the job. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't. But if it does…"

"We'll work on the same floor," said Harry, taking a step with her. "We can have lunch together."

"You'll get sick of me –"

"Never."

Arabella turned around as Harry leaned on the doorframe. He smiled at her with that grin that could melt anyone's heart and something inside of her tugged towards him.

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

She kissed his cheek and they went their separate ways with small sighs.

Thank you so much for reading!

A lot going on in this chapter. George going through the stages. Kingsley offering Arabella a job. Courtney's function. Harry's decision. Mrs. Weasley opening up. Arabella's ghosts and decisions. Things are going to keep moving along and new characters are going to get introduced soon. As for Arabella and Harry, it's going to be a bit of a slower burn, but at least they're living together, right?

If anything needs explaining, let me know and I'll try to add a note in the coming chapters. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter! Until next time, my friend!