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

Ohmygoodness, guys, hello! Welcome back to the official last book of the Potter-Black series! I hope you all like this chapter and thank you so much for sticking with me!

(Also, I updated the previous chapter, so give that a quick read if you can)

The Last of Their Kind

Arabella cursed underneath her breath as the ceramic mug shattered around her fingers. She looked around the rather messy room, quickly grabbed a dirty shirt atop the dresser, and wrapped it around her hand tightly. She then picked up the shattered remains of the mug on the velvet, crossed the room into the adjected bathroom, chucked the pieces into the dustbin, and ran her bloody hand underneath the tap.

She didn't expect the mug to shatter. Her stomach had been aching for a while now and she made some honeyed milk with sugar to ease the pain. At least she had some of it before the cup broke. She glanced at the shattered remains and sighed. Normally, Andromeda would have something to say about her making a mess and inflicting injury upon herself in the process. But these days, Andromeda didn't have the heart to raise her voice.

It's been a month since the Ministry of Magic's coined term "Battle of Hogwarts" and Arabella had taken residence in the spare room of the Tonks's house. Her options seemed quite limited at the time. The Lupin house on the outskirts of Dufftown was out of the question immediately. It would have been too painful to go back to the house, see the place Remus had raised her, and realize that he would never walk through the front door ever again. Grimmauld Place after Yaxley had gotten in was not a great idea and Andromeda had agreed with her. They had made sure the place was secure before locking it back up. Orion Black and Alastor Moody's spells would keep the place safe for the time being. Mrs. Weasley had offered her a bed in Ginny's room until she was ready to get back on her feet, but Arabella didn't want to burden her any more than she already had. Besides, the Burrow was already crowded with Harry bunking with Ron, Hermione also in Ginny's room, and Charlie and Percy moving back in their old rooms. Magical inns such as the Leaky Cauldron or Three Broomsticks weren't much of an option either. Many of them were closed or run by those still under question by the Ministry.

The only option left was to room with Andromeda and Teddy. Andromeda had quietly offered the spare room, the same room she had stayed when she was younger during a full moon and Nymph was off at Hogwarts, and she didn't mind being there at all. It was better this way. The house was less crowded and Andromeda was too busy soothing Teddy's cries that she didn't check up on Arabella. Even during the odd moments that she did during breakfast or dinner, Arabella simply life and she was getting better at lying to Andromeda. Her younger self would be relieved.

"No, I didn't have a nightmare last night, Andy… yeah, I miss him, but it's okay… it's fine… I'll go see Nymph tomorrow, I'm sure she doesn't need me there… I'm fine, yeah, I promise, I am…"

The truth of the matter, the truth that she had been hiding from one of the last people on this earth that she truly and utterly loved and cared for, was this: it was too painful and too difficult to relieve everything. To imagine the scenes over and over again in her mind – and yet, here she is, sitting on the plush bed with purple sheets, the scenes of the past month playing in her mind, rewinding like an old movie…

It was a bright and beautiful day when they buried Fred. Perfect weather for a nice picnic or backyard Quidditch with siblings. Chairs were set up near the garden where lilacs, clematis, bellflowers, and salvias were growing. So many people showed up to pay their respects – Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, members of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix, professors, shopkeepers from Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and many Weasleys around the country. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed overwhelmed by the sheer number of people that had come dressed in their best to pay respects to their son. Harry, Hermione, Charlie, and Percy helped people find chairs, but by the end of it, the majority were lined beside the chairs, shoulder to shoulder, while Hagrid stood in the back, blowing his nose loudly into a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. The only person missing in the sea of mourners was George. He had taken refuge in their old room, refusing to leave, locking himself in, placing charms and curses on the door so that if anyone tried to enter, they'd be thrown off their feet. Ron and Bill pounded on the door for what seemed like hours, screaming and yelling at him to come out, but they had given up just before the ceremony had started.

Arabella was sitting next to Andromeda and Teddy when Harry joined them. He had given them a tight smile and took Arabella's hand in his when he told her about George. She didn't blame his reaction one bit. Coming to the funeral, seeing the casket, the lifeless body, the laugh that should be there… it would make it all too real that Fred – hair occasionally falling on his forehead, wide-toothed grin that could make anyone soon – was gone.

Arabella could not remember specific moments of the ceremony, but she did remember it being beautiful and tearful. Bill conducted the ceremony, giving a speech about his brave and joyous little brother who was never found without a smile, who fought against bullies, who spread joy, and died as he had lived, with his family by his side and a laugh on his lips.

"… I will forever miss him and love him, and no matter where he goes, he will always be my little brother who blew up the shed to make us smile…"

There wasn't a dry eye in the vicinity. Mrs. Weasley's face was buried in Mr. Weasley's shoulder, the stoic father wiping his cheeks with a handkerchief. Ginny and Charlie were curled up around each other, their faces as red as their hair. Percy and Lee were sitting next to each other, both uncontrollably sobbing and clutching each other's hands. Hermione was holding Ron very tightly as their bodies began to shake, tears stained against each other's cheeks. The professors of Hogwarts had come down as well, each sniffling, but none more so than Professor McGonagall, who had half her face covered with an embroidered handkerchief. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Oliver were huddled together, leaning on each other for support, Luna and Neville had stood beside several D.A. members, and Andromeda was silently crying as well, wiping her face ever so often.

Harry was gripping Arabella's hand as Teddy began crying and screaming as well. She gathered him in her arms, whispered an excuse, and took him away from the crowd. She held him close to her chest, rocking on her heels, trying her best to soothe him as she sobbed. Looking back, she was relieved to have Teddy in her arms that day. His solid and heavy body grounded her as she kissed his brown hair, whispering that everything was going to be fine. Of course, in the next moment, loud firecrackers and ribbons burst into the air over the casket. Everyone cheered, clapped, and cried Fred's name into the air.

They buried him at the family plot in Ottery St. Catchpole where generations of Weasleys were waiting for him. They had done it the Muggle way with pallbearers: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Harry, and Lee. The six of them carried his casket from the car, into the graveyard, and placed it carefully into the ground, with a little bit of magic on the last part. Arabella had remembered thinking that Fred would have liked it that way, having his brothers, blood and water, carry him one last time…

But that sunny day wasn't the only thing running through Arabella's mind. Causalities were still being identified and the numbers kept climbing every day throughout the country, families were putting notices in the Daily Prophet and Quibbler for missing daughters, sons, mothers, and fathers. The Ministry was unable to track down Ted or Alastor's bodies, Dennis Creevey had asked the D.A. not to come to his brother's funeral, though he was rather polite about it, Alfred Clemens had disappeared from the hospital wing a week after the battle, nobody had seen Lavender after her parents picked her up from Hogwarts, not even Parvati, and many families were still in hiding. Nobody knew who to trust. Anyone could still be a Voldemort supporter working for his cause, even in the face of his ultimate demise. The more Arabella thought about it – the constant fear, the constant paranoia, the missing Death Eaters, the missing innocents, the Ministry workers hiding behind coy smiles dripping of poison – the more she realized that Voldemort was never going to truly disappear. He will always be around, lurking, his name still taboo, the memory of his action's everlasting… Peace seemed like such a foolish notion…

Then there were the more personal aspects that have happened since the battle…

She hadn't seen Harry since Fred's funeral. The last she had heard was that he, Ron, and Neville were helping Kingsley out in the Auror Department. But even then, even when she knew where he was working and where he was staying, she didn't make much of an effort to go see him. Some days were harder than others and getting out of bed, even walking to the bathroom, was a colossal effort on her part. It was hard to see the point in getting up, taking a shower, dressing up, eating breakfast, or trying to live a life when Fred and Remus couldn't.

And then it came to the real heart of the matter –

Arabella shook her head vigorously and buried it into a pillow. No, she can't think about him. She can't think about his soft voice singing in her ears, the youthful look upon his face after death, or the horrible, terrible, stomach-churning fact that his body was being preserved at St. Mungo's, that he was still there and yet not. She had hoped and even prayed that Nymph would get better soon so that they could bury him together, but she and even Andromeda knew it was just an excuse. Andromeda had the good graces to indulge her for a while. Funerals, caskets, ceremonies… they were definite endings and to her, prolonging the final goodbye seemed right at the time.

The door creaked open and Andromeda was by her side immediately, touching her arm, saying something that seemed far away.

"Arabella, Arabella, can you hear me? Breath, please, breath for me!"

She didn't even realize her body was shaking or that her pillow was catching her tears. She didn't realize she was curled up on her bed, barely taking any room, sobbing and gasping with her oily hair sticking to her skin. Andromeda held onto her tightly until her gasps turned into steady deep breaths, almost like she was a child again.

"It's okay," Andromeda whispered. "Nice and easy, one breath at a time…"

Arabella wanted to snap at her, to tell her that she knew how to breathe thank you very much, but Andromeda, like Mrs. Weasley, was the closest thing she ever really had to a mother, and she couldn't remember the last time Andromeda held like her this. Maybe it was after Sirius's funeral, maybe it wasn't. She wasn't particularly good at comfort – well, neither of them actually were – but Ted was right. They were all they had, they were the last of their kind, and they needed to stick together. Getting into meaningless fights would do them no good.

Suddenly, Arabella bolted out of the bed, stumbled into the bathroom, and threw up the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Gone was the honeyed milk and the roast from last night that she struggled to finish.

"You've been sick for a while now," Andromeda commented, a small frown on her face. "There's been a bug going around, but…"

Arabella looked up from the tap, her eyes narrowed.

"But what?"

Andromeda sighed. "I know things have been rough since…" She shook her head, her face full of regret at the thoughts in her mind. "Maybe you should get looked at, make sure Bellatrix didn't do anything to you when you were fighting her."

"I'm fine," Arabella said quickly. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."

Andromeda heaved a heavy sigh and closed her eyes.

"Come downstairs when you're ready. We need to talk."

Arabella walked down the stairs ten minutes later, past the singular portraits of the Tonks cascading downwards against the pale green and white striped walls. She paused at the bottom of the stair and looked at Ted. His smile was growing in the picture as he fixed his bowtie. Every bit and inch of this house reminded Arabella of him. The living room contained plants he grew in the garden, he replaced the ground floor with new polished wood years ago by hand, the walls of the kitchen were a bright yellow he painted on a whim one morning, and the paintings in the study were ones he made when he decided to take a class one summer. He had wanted Andromeda and Nymph, the former especially, to live in a colourful and warm house, to know nothing but love and kindness. Andromeda would make a comment here and there, but it was all talk. She loved living in this house with her particular husband who aimed to make her smile every day. Arabella could not understand how Andromeda could go on when the loss of Ted was felt throughout the house.

"Where's Teddy?" Arabella mumbled, sitting at the oak table.

"I finally got him down this morning," said Andromeda, dark circles around her eyes. "He was up most of last night. I wanted to talk to you about Remus –"

Arabella clenched her jaw and shut her eyes quickly.

"I know why you've been putting this off and I understand, but I think it's time we give him a proper funeral. Healer Greyson sent me a letter this morning. They cannot preserve his body anymore without violating several ethical oats and they only did it in the first place due to our circumstance, and…"

Andromeda cleared her throat.

"Nymphadora isn't getting any better. They can't give me a timetable on her progress and we – we shouldn't wait anymore. Remus deserves to rest."

Tears came to Arabella's eyes as she quickly nodded. Andromeda was right, of course she was right. What the Healers did for them was an act of kindness given everything that's happened and keeping Remus preserved was…. She thought she'd have more time before she had to say goodbye.

"You're – yeah, okay," croaked Arabella, picking at her thumb under the table. "We – it should be in Godric's Hollow, next to – his friends. I think he'd – he'd like that."

Andromeda nodded her head, her hand reaching across the table before deciding against it.

"Yes, I think he would like that too. I'll begin the arrangements and see if we can do it this Sunday around noon. To be frank, I thought you'd fight me on this."

An image of Remus sitting by the Great Lake flashed in her mind. The wind in his hair, the stars shining in his eyes…

"Just tired I guess," Arabella whispered.

Before Andromeda could open her mouth, a cry rang through the house. Andromeda turned her head slightly and got up.

"Go to St. Mungo's and tell them that we will be needing Remus on Sunday and please go visit Nymph. I think it will do her some good to see you."

She headed up the stairs towards Teddy before Arabella could agree.

"Third floor, second door on your left – NEXT!"

Arabella moved up the line towards the receptionist. She looked extremely impatient and irritated with smudges of ink-stained against her light brown skin and her light hair tied in a messy ponytail. However, when she saw Arabella, her eyes lit up.

"Miss Black! It's a surprise to see you here today! How can I be of assistance?"

Arabella was slightly startled. She wasn't used to this kind of reception from the wizarding community. They usually looked at her with disdain and sneered at her last name.

"Um, I'm here to see someone about Remus Lupin's body?"

"Remus Lupin, yes, of course, of course!" cried the receptionist. "I am so sorry for your loss, so, so unfortunate. Please, have a seat and I'll get someone here immediately –"

"I've been waiting for a Healer for nearly half an hour!" yelled a man with a terrible boil on his face.

"I've told you, Mr. Simms, we are short-staffed and do you know who she is?" hissed the receptionist.

"I can – I can wait –" stammered Arabella.

"No, no, it's not a worry, Miss Black, not a worry at all," the receptionist changed her tone immediately. "He will need a Healer from the third floor who specializes in plant poisoning and given all that's happening, it's all hands-on deck for the third floor. Fourth-floor Healers usually stay on the fourth floor given the nature of spell damage and body recovery."

Arabella wasn't really sure what the receptionist was talking about and why Healers from other floors can't help each other. But maybe the truth was much more complicated than what was being given to Arabella, who couldn't begin to understand Healers and the magic behind the scenes.

"Oh – okay, thanks. Also, my cousin, Nympha –"

"She is also on the fourth floor. Please, have a seat, Miss Black. A Healer will be here soon."

The man with the terrible boil shoved his way to the front of the line, giving the receptionist an earful while Arabella made her quick escape. She sat down in the overcrowded lobby, surrounded by wizards with various injuries. Many were either staring at her outright or whispering to their neighbour behind their hands. Arabella tried not to pay attention, but it would have been nice if they made an effort to show that they were talking about anything else in this world besides her.

"That's her?" whispered a rather old witch in lime robes. "She's the one who got that Lestrange woman?"

"I can't believe it, I thought she died!" a middle-aged man exclaimed in a hushed voice to his wife. "Potter's girlfriend, in the flesh!"

"Wait till I tell Millie, I can't believe it!" said a young girl to her mother. "Arabella Black, right there!"

"You will do no such thing," the mother hissed to the girl. "After all she's been through, the poor girl…"

Arabella inhaled sharply, picked up an old copy of Witch Weekly, and began flipping through the pages, determined to block out their voices. But it was easier said than done.

"What the hell is she here for –"

" – reckon she in the right mind and all –"

"Is Harry Potter here too, Mummy?"

"Miss Black?"

"How can anyone be in the right mind after murdering someone?"

" – I bet it has something to do with Madam Lestrange, bet she did something to her –"

"Miss Black?"

"Well, I don't care what anyone else says, murder is murder in my books –"

"Haven't you heard what that woman did?"

"All the more reason for the law to deal with that Lestrange –"

"Can I talk to her, Da?"

"Miss Black?"

"Maybe later, sweetheart, we need to see Gran-Gran first."

"Hope she's all right –"

" – can't imagine if she's not, given the fact that Harry Potter trusts her –"

"Maybe he's sick in her head too –"

"Nah, the Chosen One, pur-lease –"

"Miss Black?"

A hand touched Arabella's shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her seat. The magazine dropped to the floor as Arabella looked up at the old Healer like a scared animal. He was an old man with a kind face, pale and grey skin, and a headful of white hair.

"Hello, miss, I am Healer Greyson. I wrote to Mrs. Tonks about Remus Lupin. Please, follow me."

As she followed him, the voices behind her grew. They no longer had a reason to whisper or even pretend to care that they were talking about her. They can now gossip freely amongst themselves.

"I'm sorry if you had to wait long," Greyson said to her, turning his head slightly as he led the way. "It's been a bit hectic here these past couple of weeks. We're short-staffed and now taking house calls for those afraid to leave their homes. Of course, can't blame them half the time. It's hard to walk out of your homes wondering if this is the last time you're gonna see your kids or if there's a crazed Death Eater around the corner. I try to cheer my patients, tell them that they have nothing to worry about, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead thanks to Mr. Potter and all his crazy flowers are going to be put on trial one of these days, but do they ever listen? Tsk, tsk. You should see some of these folks, jumping at every little sound, scared of their own shadows, like they're gonna be struck down at any moment. Of course, I'm not scared. I've lived through three wars. The only thing I dodge now are patients in ward forty-nine…"

He kept babbling the whole way up to the fourth floor. He led her towards a single door on the opposite side of the long-term resident ward, took out his wand, and muttered, "Alohomora." The door slid open and Arabella followed after him.

The room was extremely cold. Arabella hugged herself tightly at the sudden temperature drop. The room itself was dimly lit with blue light. Along one side of the wall were large steel doors that looked like cabinets and instead of files, she suspected they held other preserved bodies of those lost in the war. In the middle of the room, underneath a brighter light, was a body with a white sheet covering it. Arabella was acutely away of her own breath as she took a step forward.

"Sorry about the temp. in here, I should have warned you, I suppose," Greyson said briskly. "We just need to go over a couple of things and you can be right on your way. We have also placed all of Mr. Lupin's belongings at the time of his death in that paper bag. It contains his wand, clothes, some photos, and a sealed letter addressed to Harry Potter."

"Letter?" asked Arabella.

"Hmm, yes," mumbled Greyson as he walked around the other side of the body, picked up a clipboard on top of a wooden cart with a brown paper bag on top of it, and began skimming through the papers. "Have you set a date for the funeral?"

"Um… it's not really official, but we're hoping to do it on Sunday around noon."

He scribbled something down and then said, "We can send a letter the day before to confirm the date and time. A Healer, of course, will bring the body to the location, which will be…?"

"Godric's Hollow in the West Country."

"Yes, I am aware," mumbled Greyson as he jotted it down. "And your middle name is?"

"Kassandra with a K."

Once he was done writing on his clipboard, Greyson looked up at Arabella.

"Now it is protocol that I read this out loud, bare with me for a moment." He cleared his throat and said, "I, Arabella Kassandra Black, of legal age and descendent of –"

"I'm – I'm not blood-related," Arabella blurted out.

Greyson merely comically shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

"It's just legal gibberish for us and Ministry purposes. We don't expect everyone to be blood-related to each other, especially during times like these. Most of the people that have come into this room lately are friends and school chums. Now, where were we – ah, right – descendent of Remus John Lupin, born tenth of March, nineteen-sixty, died second of May, nineteen-ninety-eight, hereby take legal custody of the deceased's body and confirms that the body presented to I, Arabella Kassandra Black, in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is of the deceased, Remus John Lupin. As sole inheritor and of legal age, I, Arabella Kassandra Black, hereby swear to dispose of the body legally and ethically on – this is where the date usually is, but I can add that part in later – at Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain."

He then handed the clipboard over the body towards Arabella.

"I need you to sign the bottom of that page, clarifying that you are indeed Arabella Black, and that you will ethically dispose of the body via funeral, cremation, whatever you wish to do, and that you have read through the death certificate on the next page and everything looks correct. Once you are done, I'll make you a copy and send another one over to the Ministry. After that, I will be contacting you on Saturday to confirm the date and time. Do you have any questions, Miss Black?"

Arabella shook her head, quickly skimmed through the papers, and sighed her name at the bottom. Greyson made the copies, handed her one, and she tucked it in her back pocket.

"You can take as much time as you need here," Greyson said kindly. "I'll be off. You know your way out, I assume?"

Arabella nodded and Greyson left with a final nod. The moment the door slid shut behind him, Arabella was alone with a corpse.

Slowly and carefully as to not disturb him, Arabella lifted the thin white sheet. She folded it over his chest and smoothed it out, making sure there wasn't a wrinkle in sight. She stared down at the lifeless body underneath her and her lips began to tremble. It was startling, to say the least, to see a preserved body, especially Remus's. The scars on his face and chest were dark against his grey skin making his light hair vibrate, his lips were white and chapped, and his cheeks were hollow. It was like day and night looking at the body in front of her and then remembering the body the Resurrection Stone produced for her that day. Her mind could not decipher which was the real Remus. The preserved one once held his real soul, but it almost seemed impossible that it could hold anything. The one near the Great Hall was younger and so handsome, but it was neither flesh nor ghost… He was here and there, and also nowhere.

She stared down at his body for a moment, slightly probing his chin, cheeks, chest, and other parts of his upper body, wondering if whether or not hitting the right place would make him suddenly wake up and engulf her in his arms. Of course, she would be mad at him for making her wait for such a long time, but she'll forgive him eventually and they'll head down the hallway to Nymph and show that he was alive after all and they'll all head back home and be a family again. But no matter where she poked or how hard she dug her fingers into his skin like a little child, he was gone, gone, gone, gone, gone…

"I think about you every day," she whispered, her voice rough and small. "I hate you for leaving. My – my soul aches for you – I don't know how – how to live without you – why did you have to leave me? This is – there's a place for you right here," she dug her fingers into the place where her heart laid, "but it's empty now because of you and n – nothing could ever fill it – I – I can't live without you –"

Her stomach squirmed and she ran out of the room with the paper bag, tears streaking down her face. She could not stand to look at him anymore, not in this state, not like this… She slid against the door to the floor in the deserted hallway, her whole body unsteady and gasps escaping her mouth. There was nothing in this world or the next that could ever console her when all she wanted, all she truly wanted, the only thing she wanted, was for the man in the next room to wake up, kiss her hair, and tell her everything was going to be okay because they had each other and they can get through anything with each other by their sides.

Sometimes it felt like it was just yesterday he brought her home from St. Mungo's, made her pancakes for dinner, and as she struggled to eat, he promised her that he would take care of her, love her, and they'll always have each other. He played an old record for her that night and when she began to drift off against the couch, he carried her to her new room, tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and sang her a small song. During those days, her nightmares were constant and when she woke up screaming and crying, he was there by her side in an instant and he stayed there until she exhausted herself. He always reassured her that he was going nowhere, soothing her cries every night.

Well, I guess it finally happened, huh, a cruel voice whispered in her mind. And now you're taking him home…

The horrific thought that barged in her mind was so vile, her stomach did multiple flips as she dashed towards the trashcan in the corner, her breakfast official gone and her mouth now dry.

"You all right there?" said a throaty voice.

Arabella looked up to see a Healer glancing down at her with a worried and confused look on her face. She was a middle-aged Black woman with short hair tied back and instead of the usual green robes Healers seemed to wear around the hospital, she was wearing a deep navy robe with white trimmings.

"Oh, hey, you're Arabella Black!" exclaimed the Healer. "Yeah… I recognize you from the papers, but – what are you doing here? Do you have an appointment with someone? I know these halls can be a bit confusing –"

"I'm – I'm fine, it's just a bug," Arabella told her, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"No, I don't think you are," the Healer said astutely. "Indulge me for a moment –"

"I'd just – I'd rather not," mumble Arabella.

"It'll take a moment, I promise, and then you can be on your way."

Arabella was not convinced and the Healer seemed to sense it as well.

"My name's Suzanne Wardell, but everyone around here calls me Sunny. I'm not trying to probe you like you're some sort of freak or get some hot scope for the Prophet. I just want to make sure you're all right. As a Healer, we all took oaths to do no harm and help every patient that comes through –"

"Okay, fine, fine, whatever," said Arabella, her hand on her head as it began to throb. "Just – make it quick – please," she added, remembering her manners.

Healer Wardell gave her a big smile and Arabella followed her down the stairs, through multiple hallways, and into a bright room on the ground floor. There was a medical examination chair in the middle, a wooden cart beside it, and an enchanted window on the wall showcasing a field on chamomiles. Along the walls behind the chair were cabinets and a counter with instruments Arabella had never seen before and a golden cauldron.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" asked Wardell.

"A while," replied Arabella, her fingers fidgeting. "I, um, didn't really notice until this morning when my aunt said something. She told me I should get a check-up."

"Smart aunt," commented Wardell. She was standing by the counter, mixing ingredients together in the cauldron. Once she was done, she poured the potion into a goblet and handed it to Arabella. "Here you go. You should probably sit down, love, and then drink this. Some witches do experience side-effects."

Skeptically, Arabella looked down at the odourless milky potion and then back up at Wardell. She heaved a heavy sigh and downed the potion in one gulp. Dizziness overtook her immediately and she quickly sat down on the examination chair, her head spinning and her eyes unfocused.

"Easy now," muttered Wardell, grabbing the goblet from Arabella's grip. "How you feeling, Arabella?"

"Um, my – my headache's gone," Arabella purred, her words slightly blending together. "Wha – er – wha' now?"

"Just lay back and relax for a moment," Wardell said kindly. "I'm going to perform a spell and we'll officially know what's going on with you. The effects of the potion should only last a few minutes. You'll be fine soon enough."

"O-key, articho-key," Arabella smacked her lips together before blowing a raspberry in midair.

"The potion is supposed to make witches serene and happy. I'm glad it's working for you. Now, I'm going to need you to stay still for a bit."

Wardell then took out her wand, pointed it directly at Arabella, and said, "Graviditatis Revelare!"

For a moment, nothing happened and Arabella felt slightly disappointed. She scrunched her eyebrows together, pursed her lips, turned towards Wardell, and squinted. She expected more after the theatrics and dramatics that today held. But Wardell, calm and collected, merely stood there, hands behind her back. She was looking up at the ceiling.

"I, er-rrrr," Arabella began dryly, "cool, I gotta go home-eeeee…"

And then it happened, taking Arabella's breath away. The room had become eerily, and a steady, low thumping noise filled every inch of it. Arabella sobered up immediately, the effect of the potion disappearing as though it were never there, and she realized with a terrible certainty that the noise was a heartbeat, and her own heart was beating along with it in unison, together as one…

"I've got to go," Arabella said quietly, picking up the paper bag containing Remus's belongings and making sure she still had her wand. "I gotta go home – no, I, um, I need to see my cousin, she's here somewhere, I've got to visit her, she's – she's sick and she needs me –"

"I can take you to her," Wardell said kindly. "Do you know where she is?"

"I – I think they moved her to the long-term ward," Arabella told her, scratching the top of her head as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I've got – I need to go –"

"Miss Black, do you understand –"

"I'm fine!"

Arabella ran out of the room, down the hallway, up the many flights of stairs, past portraits of old Healers screaming at her to slow down, and then she was finally back on the fourth-floor landing, staring at the double doors marked SPELL DAMAGE. Wizards who experienced permanent jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly-applied spells stay here, though there was a separate room for short-tern residents that just needed some time before getting back on their feet. After the Battle of Hogwarts, they had moved Nymph into the short-term ward due to Dolohov's curse but when she woke up and had been told of what happened to Remus… she did not get better and they moved her to long-term a week ago. Andromeda had locked herself in her room all night while Arabella looked after Teddy. In the middle of the night, out of curiosity and concern, Arabella tiptoed down the hallway and pressed her ear against the door, listening to Andromeda's muffled cries.

Arabella tucked Remus's paper bag underneath her arm and pushed open the door. Personal items were peppered around the room of those who made the ward their home.

"Hey, it's you."

Healer Murphy, the same Healer who had patched her up when she was a child after what Bellatrix had done, appeared by her side His dark hair had been cut short, he looked thinner than the last time she had seen him when she was here to see Mr. Weasley a few years ago, his tanned face wasn't particularly kind, and he was looking down at her with his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Oh, hi," mumbled Arabella. "I'm here to see someone."

"I gathered as much," Murphy said briskly. "I've been reading about you in the Prophet. It's been less garbage than usual, though they are still speculating what Potter has been up to since he's joined the Ministry and all, but I heard about what you did. I'm sure you're relieved, given everything that's happened." He sighed and looked around the room. "Who you here to see, then?"

"Nymphadora –"

"Right, here, I'll take you to her."

He led her to the opposite end of the ward, past multiple people that were laughing hysterically at nothing in particular, mumbling something to themselves, or being restrained by Healers. There seemed to be more beds in the ward than usual and they were all occupied. The room felt very small and cramped. At the far end was a white curtain drawn around a bed. Murphy pushed the cloth to the side and Arabella stepped forward. Her blood went cold at the sight in front of her.

Nymph, her joyous cousin with the wicked smile and lovely laugh, was laying down on a single bed, staring up at the ceiling vacantly. Her face was thin and worn out, her cheeks hollow, her skin pale and covered with grime, and her hair thinning. Her arms were up by her head in a serene trance and it weren't for the slight rise of her chest, Arabella would have assumed she was dead as well.

"What – what's happened to her?" croaked Arabella, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her.

"It's a bit of Antonin Dolohov's curse. It's quite deadly and it has caused some internal injuries to Mrs. Tonks. But that's not all. When we informed her of Remus Lupin's unfortunate death, she… it seemed to have broken her. We had to restrain her after she had become hysterical and frantic. We had given her a Calming Draught and she's been like this ever since. We have ruled out any foul play with the potion, and we've tried every spell and potion known to man, but nothing has made her better. At this point, it's up to her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Other patients here cannot help themselves. Mr. Williams, for example –"

Murphy turned and nodded towards a man diagonally across from them. He was staring aimlessly at the blank wall behind his bed, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, before slamming his head against the wall. Arabella jumped backwards, nearly colliding with Nymph's bed and letting out a small scream, as multiple Healers rushed towards him.

"We suspect it was a Death Eater that placed the Imperius Curse on him improperly," Murphy continued grimly. "He's a senior member of the Ministry of Magic – or at least he was a senior ranking member of the Ministry. It will be a while until Mr. Williams's family can receive good news. Mrs. Tonks, on the other hand… it's up to her whether or not she wants to leave."

"So she's like this because her heart broke," whispered Arabella, tears coming to her eyes.

"Emotional trauma after losing a loved one can cause something within us to break," Murphy told her, nodding his head. "All that pain and grief simply made Mrs. Tonks freeze and impaired. The best that we as Healers can do is make sure she's comfortable until she's ready to wake up."

"Can I – " Arabella sighed and cleared her throat. "Can we have some privacy please?"

"Yes, of course," Murphy said promptly. "I will be out there if you need me."

He closed the curtain behind him as Arabella sat down on the chair next to Nymph's bed. She placed the paper bag on the floor next to her feet and took Nymph's hand between her own, her thumb gently rubbing against Nymph's palm. Arabella looked at Nymph and realized that her eyes did not leave the ceiling once. She was there physically, yes, but she also wasn't. What Nymph once was – dedicated Auror, energetic cousin, vibrant daughter, and loving wife – was now replaced by this near-comatose figure in front of her. Arabella grieved for her as she did for Remus, but at the same time, she envied Nymph for not being here, for not seeing or dealing with the aftermaths of this new world without Mad-Eye, without Ted, without Remus…

"Andy wants to bury Remus soon," said Arabella. "She wanted to do it weeks ago, but I managed to make her wait for a bit. I told her it was for you, that you should be there too, but I think it's because I'm not ready. I don't know anymore and they've made it pretty clear that they can't keep his body here anymore. We're going to do it at Godric's Hollow, next to Sirius and James. I think he'd like that, don't you?"

But Nymph did not reply or make any indication she heard Arabella.

"I get it," Arabella murmured. "I wouldn't want to be here either. Sometimes I wish I were in your place, other times I feel like I already am. I'm sorry for not coming sooner. There are just days when waking didn't really feel worth it. Not when he's gone and you're here and…"

Arabella felt her throat close, thinking about the terrible, terrible fact that Remus's body was just down the hall from the ward, that the three of them were so close to each other, and yet so far because Remus had left them behind, going somewhere they cannot follow, Nymph was a shell, and Arabella was left standing nowhere, trying to pick up the pieces of their fragmented family, trying to begin to move on, trying to get up every day and not fall into a pit of despair. Some days are better than others, but most days are dark and just make Arabella want to sleep and never wake up again.

"I think I'm in trouble," breathe Arabella, leaning forward. "It's not a good time and – god, me? A parent? What kind of a sick joke is that? I don't know what to do, I need you, Nymph."

But Nymph continued to stare at the ceiling, not even blinking, barely breathing, and when Arabella left, paper bag in hand, heart at the pit of her stomach, she knew she had failed Ted.

Let me know what you guys think of this chapter!

So, obviously, no Harry in this chapter. He will in the next chapter going forward, but for now, I just wanted to keep it between Arabella, Andromeda, and Nymph, aka the last of their kind, the last bit of Arabella's original family, etc.

Regarding Nymph and a couple things: I know that I referred to her as "Mrs. Tonks." I did this deliberately. I wouldn't know if she would have changed her name, if she would have even had the chance in the original books, so I've decided to make a small storyline out of this as well, so keep an eye on this small part in the future ;)

Also regarding Nymph: I don't really agree with Murphy's choice of words when he described Nymph's condition, but the way I imagined him is a pretty blunt and rough man. And Nymph's heart IS broken. She lost her mentor, her father, and now her husband. Her road to recovery will be difficult since I've decided not to have her killed in the battle.

And the road to recovery for Arabella will be difficult as well. So much is going on and will go on, and also not completely trusting herself will be difficult as well, especially with being a parent at this age and after everything that's happened.

I hope you liked this chapter. My plans for this book will slowly start to unravel with Arabella, Harry, and the whole wizarding world. Hope you guys stick around and let me know what you think :) Until next time, my friends!