A/N: Oof. Thats all I'll say. OOF.


Year 10

Late Summer, 1993

Barnaby's stomach twisted in knots as he glanced at the time. His heart skipped a beat- ten minutes till closing. The kennels were clean, the hounds fed and happy, his desk tidy and clean.

Maybe, just maybe, Amos Diggory would let him leave a little early today.

He couldn't be late. Especially not today.

There was still so much to do before Arah's big ceremony—a celebration honoring the often-overlooked Magical Maintenance Department. Sure, he was excited to support her, but it was everything after the ceremony that made his stomach flutter in anticipation.

Tonight, he was going to tell her how he felt.
He had it all planned out.

He'd bring her flowers, hand-picked from Penny's rose garden. He'd offer to apparate her home, like always. Then they'd sit together on the bench in that quaint little courtyard overlooking the church. And there—finally—he'd tell her everything he'd kept hidden for so long.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pictured it all playing out perfectly.

"Barnaby!" Amos Diggory's voice echoed through the enclosure, jolting Barnaby out of his daydream. "Just the man I was looking for."

"Hello, sir," Barnaby said warmly, straightening up. "I was just about to close up."

"Good, good." Amos beamed, cheeks rosy beneath his round spectacles. "I wanted to talk to you about something important. Do you have a moment?"

Barnaby's eyes flicked anxiously to the clock. Surely he could spare a few minutes... He hesitated, then nodded with a polite smile, masking his nerves. "Of course."

"Brilliant! Let's talk in my office." Amos beckoned as Barnaby followed closely behind, having to consciously slow his strides so Amos' stout legs could keep pace.

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" Barnaby asked with a nervous laugh as they walked. Five minutes till closing. Shit. He could take a quick shower. Maybe even just dunk his head under the water.

"Oh no, far from it actually." Amos chuckled, eyes crinkling behind his glasses,"Please- please, take a seat."

Barnaby sat across from him, placing his hands on his knees to still his fidgeting legs. Amos gave a little hop onto his chair, his desk barely reaching his chest.

"It seems you've captured the attention of The Ministry, Mr. Lee. They've been quite impressed with you as of late."

"Me?" Barnaby gaped at such a foreign concept.

Surely he hadn't heard that right. Barnaby's efforts were never recognized for anything. His entire academic career was a struggle- he barely ever met the minimum requirements (and that was him trying). Nothing ever came easy for him, but to be recognized by The Ministry of all things? There must have been a mistake.

"Oh yes." Amos nodded enthusiastically, "They were especially impressed by the way you handled that adolescent Green Welsh back in Wales. And don't think your little stunt with that Norwegian Ridgeback didn't go unnoticed."

So it wasn't a mistake.

Barnaby blushed, not used to receiving such praise. He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing back at the clock. Five after closing. At this rate, he was definitely going to be late.

"I appreciate it, sir, I really do, but... you mentioned wanting to discuss something important?"

"Yes, yes. I'm getting there m' boy." Amos let out a bellowing laugh, "Barnaby, you've proven to be strong, incredibly skilled, and patient during your time here as the Hounds Master. You treat creatures with a respect and understanding that is oftentimes rare to see."

"Thank you, sir."

Amos' expression sobered, though warmth lingered in his eyes. "It almost pains me to say this, but... the Beast Division has taken a special interest in you. They'd like to offer you a position. How would you feel about becoming a Magical Beast Wrangler?"

Barnaby's breath caught.

Him? A Magical Beast Wrangler? They were only the most bloody brilliant and bad ass wizards in the Department of Magical Creatures, maybe even the entire Ministry. They were world travelers, incredibly skilled, tough as nails, often wrangling beasts with a XXXX classification or higher. Their goal was simple: to collect, reform, and release the beasts, often back into the wild or a reserve. It was an exclusive job only offered to the best of the best. A job Barnaby never dreamed of having.

"I... I don't know what to say." he managed.

"'You'd be fantastic, Barnaby. Just fantastic." He enthused, clasping his hands together.

Barnaby frowned, his gaze drifting to the kennels. The bond he had formed with the hounds was something Barnaby had grown to cherish. The idea of leaving them tugged at something deep in his chest.

Amos seemed to catch it. "You can visit them anytime, son. You would get to see the world, Barnaby. Not to mention helping a lot of people and creatures alike."

Barnaby looked back at him. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course. But I'll need an answer soon. Training starts in two weeks."

"Where at?"

"Australia. Near the Great Victoria Desert."

"How long is the program?"

"Nine months."

"Nine months?!"

He'd never been away that long in his life. His stomach lurched at the thought—being gone for nearly a year. Away from his friends, his found family... away from Arah.

Merlin's beard, how was he supposed to tell her?

Hey Arah, I've been in love with you for the past seven years. Want to try and make this work? Cool. Oh, and by the way—I'm leaving for the better part of a year.

He cringed.

No. No, this was a good thing. A new beginning. All the more reason to tell her tonight. They could make it work. They could write, he could use a portkey over the weekend to visit. They could do this. They'd gotten through harder things before.

"I know it's a long time," Amos said gently. "But they want you prepared and ready for such a dangerous job. Will you at least consider it?"

Barnaby took a steadying breath and offered a smile, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Thank you, sir. I'll give you my answer this week."

"I look forward to it, m'boy." Amos gave his arm a fatherly pat.

Bloody hell, he was so late. All of this was not going to plan, but even so- he couldn't keep the smile from his face as his dress shoes squeaked against the Ministry's tile floors, taking the corner much too fast.

A large stage was set up in the Atrium, the Ministry's statue towering over the crowd that had gathered below. Barnaby paused, adjusted his tie, flattened his tussled hair, and did a quick breath check. Minty.

The roses he picked had seen better days. They were a sorry scrappy lot, but they were specially hand-picked and pruned for Arah (he had the cuts to prove it, damned bloody thorns). Sure, he could have conjured a bouquet of perfect flowers, but that would have been far too easy. It would have felt like an afterthought. Arah deserved more than that, even if he had suffered a few thorn pricks.

Barnaby patted his pocket, feeling the neatly folded paper that held his most cherished words for her. He'd stayed up nearly all night writing it down so he wouldn't freeze up like last time.

He was ready. Barnaby let out a tight breath and made his way through the crowd, mumbling whispered apologies until he spotted his group of friends near the front. He settled into a small space next to Liz and Ismelda, who were unashamedly holding hands- a sight Barnably would never get used to.

"What I miss?" He breathed, swiping his hair out of his eyes.

Liz glanced at him, her large brown eyes dropping to the flimsy roses he clung to. She gave him a knowing smile, "Nothing important."

"Thank Merlin," he let out a sigh of relief.

The Magical Maintenance workers were lined up on stage. His eyes scanned hungrily for Arah. He spotted a scowling Merula standing next to a colorful younger woman he recognized as Pepper Copperbottom. Reginald Cattermole, a timid man who often helped Barnaby maintain the enclosures in the Magical Creatures Department, stood near. Each of them sported a golden badge on their dress cloaks.

A man continued to drone on with possibly the dullest voice Barnaby had ever heard, pinning the honorary badges on each worker. He had just gotten to a rather energetic wizard who went by the name "Vega", who couldn't keep still as they bounced excitedly on the balls of their feet. Then he finally spotted her. Arah.

His heart jumped to his throat. She was stunningly beautiful as she stood up there, twisting her bracelet (the very one he'd gifted her) as her golden eyes scanned the crowd nervously before landing on him. Her face lit up as she smiled just for him, giving him a slight wave. He beamed like a sorry sod, waving back.

The dull man Barnaby now knew as Cresent Flump had finally gotten to Arah as she stood tall and proud to accept her badge.

"For an outstanding year, cleaning up some of the Ministries' messiest of messes, I award Arah Annon the golden mop of the year. Thank you for your hard work and dedication to this job, no matter how thankless it can be." The man's mouth curled into a shadow of a grin.

Arah looked stunned as she accepted the award, blinking like she hadn't quite heard right. The crowd responded with appropriate applause—until their group detonated into an obnoxious chorus of whoops, hollers, and magically-enhanced whistles. Tulip conjured confetti. Andre let out a shrill "OW OWWW", while Tonks transformed her nose into an Elephant's, trumpeting so loud that it made a wizard three rows up flinch. It was loud, ridiculous, and executed with the clear intention of making Arah combust from secondhand embarrassment.

But even so, Arah's smile stretched so wide Barnaby felt his chest tighten at the beauty of it- of her.

The ceremony came to a close as the workers shuffled off stage, each of them finding their respective friends and families. Merula joined them first as their friends surrounded her with words of congratulations and appreciation. Merula rolled her eyes, but Barnaby could see the slight flush to her cheeks and the way her mouth twitched to keep herself from smiling.

It was the first steady job Merula had managed to keep in over a year.

Barnaby's fingers clenched around the stems, his eyes searching for Arah when he spotted her silver hair bobbing through the crowd toward them. His heart sped up as she approached them with a bright smile.

"You all really didn't have to come to such a boring thing!" she laughed lightly, gripping her cheeks in that shy way of hers whenever she felt embarrassed with gratitude.

"Nonsense! We wouldn't miss it for the world." Penny sang as she wrapped her arms around her. "We're so proud of you."

"You lot are the best." Arah flushed.

"I'm only here for the food and beverages that were promised." Tulip gave her a cheeky grin.

"You and me both." Arah snorted.

Barnaby took a step forward, his tie suddenly feeling much too tight and his palms a sweaty mess. He took a breath, desperate to still the hammering in his chest. Arah turned toward him, her face lighting up, eyes softening just for him.

"Hey," he croaked, his voice hoarse like he'd forgotten how to use it.

Her lashes dropped down to the roses, her smile stretching wider, and Barnaby was certain his heart would burst.

Then she was airborne. Lifted clean off the ground and spun in an elegant sweep by none other than Callum McClintock.

The world tilted. Barnaby froze, breath locking in his throat as the moment shattered around him.

Callum handed her a flawless, overstuffed bouquet of the most beautiful exotic blooms—orchids and lilies and heart-shaped things Barnaby couldn't name if he tried. Arah laughed as Callum kissed her cheek.

"I knew you'd get the Golden Mop!" he said brightly, pulling her in, his hand settled too comfortably on her waist. "You deserve it more than anyone."

Barnaby's mouth went dry. A faint ringing started in his ears. Arah let out a breathy giggle as Callum squeezed her tight again.

It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room. The room seemed to spin, his heart pounded in his ears as Barnaby stood frozen, watching her in someone else's arms.

The roses suddenly wilted, petals blackening, curling in on themselves before falling like ashes to the floor by his own magical means. The stems slipped passed his fingers and fell to the ground where they would be trampled and forgotten.

After the ceremony, the Atrium transformed into a luxurious after-party, floating golden lights glittering above tables that overflowed with rich food and enchanted drinks. Their friends reveled in the rare bout of extravagance, laughter echoing off marble walls.

Barnaby stood quietly in the corner, brooding, his eyes trained on Callum and Arah—watching, overthinking, unraveling. Every brush of their arms, every shared laugh, sent Barnaby's stomach twisting tighter.

Maybe they're just friends. He told himself. I'm just overthinking it. Probably. Hopefully.

Arah never mentioned anything going on between her and this bloke. And she told Barnaby everything. Didn't she?

He tilted his firewhiskey back and let the burn distract him, setting the empty glass with the others. The alcohol didn't help. The static in his head only grew louder.

He felt ill with heartbreak watching their flirtatious exchanges. Callum paraded her around like a trophy, always touching her waist, her shoulder, the small of her back—territorial, smug. Arah didn't seem to mind. If anything, she leaned into it, laughed louder.

The thought of slipping away crossed his mind more than once, but he stayed. He needed to be sure. He wanted to be wrong. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd assumed something to be true only for it to blow up in his face...

Barnaby shuffled over to the makeshift bar, ordering another whiskey when he felt someone shoulder up next to him.

"Make that two, please." Callum said with a wink.

Barnaby offered a slight nod, accepting the drink from across the counter.

"Cheers, mate." Callum clinked their glasses together.

"Right. Cheers," Barnaby mumbled, draining his in one go. His head swam. He'd lost count of how many he'd had—too many, if the room's gentle tilt was anything to go by.

He caught Callum staring at Arah from across the room—openly, hungrily. She was radiant, lost in conversation with the girls, completely unaware of the way Callum devoured her with his eyes.

"She's incredible, she is," Callum breathed, taking another swig. "The witch is stunning, wicked smart. Quick as a whip with those whitty comebacks... drives me mad."

Barnaby didn't respond. His jaw clenched.

Then Callum leaned closer, voice low and confidential.

"And between you and me—bloody wild under the sheets, mate."

He laughed, elbowing Barnaby's arm like they were sharing some great joke.

Barnaby's body turned to stone, heart cracking clean down the middle. No. No, he didn't say that. He didn't mean it like that. He had to be joking. Exaggerating. Messing with him. Right? He was sure he'd misunderstood. He couldn't stomach it.

"The fuck you just say?" Barnaby slurred, voice thick as the words came out all muddled.

"I mean, Salazar's Soul, she's got the whole package, she does. I'm telling you..." he let out a long whistle. "Dunno how I got so lucky."

Something snapped deep within him. The anger and hatred that he was born into clawed out from the deep recesses of his soul, a beast born of heartbreak and bitterness and a lifetime of not being enough.

He only saw red. His blood boiling as he looked to Callum with such disdain, his words were openly crass— as if Arah were just another conquest. A young woman swayed by his silver tongue and honeyed words.

Callum's smirk faded. "You okay, mate? Yer lookin' a bit peely wally."

Crack.

Barnaby's fist flew before he even knew he was moving. It collided with Callum's jaw, knocking the man's head to the side.

Callum stood still for a beat, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek as he rubbed his jaw. A low and humorless laugh spilled from his lips as they stretched into an amused smile.

"Damn. Okay then." He cocked his head, rolling his shoulders back.

Then he struck—swift and vicious. Barnaby, too sluggish to react, took the hit full-on. He stumbled backward into a table, glasses crashing to the floor, shattering like his pride.

Gasps echoed around the room. A hundred eyes turned to stare.

Barnaby's vision swam. Blood coated his tongue. His hand came away red. Heartbreak and anger exploded within him. Nothing else mattered other than punching this ass hole in his cocky mug. Barnaby surged forward, ready to return the blow.

But she was there.

"STOP!" Arah's voice shrilled, her small frame planted firmly between them. Her golden eyes were wide with shock. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Come on, try that shite again." Callum taunted, holding up his fists as if he were just warming up, "I fuckin' dare ye."

Barnaby growled, trying to step around her, fists shaking, but Arah gripped his chest, grounding him, his mind clearing at her touch.

"Callum, enough," Arah seethed, turning back to Barnaby. "Barns—stop! You're drunk!"

Barnaby huffed, chest heaving. His throat swelled with emotions. Everyone was staring. Friends. Strangers. A hundred other eyes were gaping at him in pure shock.

Godric's heart, what had he done? His eyes stung with bitter anger and embarrassment. He'd made such a fool of himself.

"Yer mate came at me first, Arah. I swear." Callum protested, but Arah wasn't listening.

"I'm taking you home," she said firmly, eyes locked on Barnaby. There was something raw in her expression—anger, yes, but also... concern. Worry.

"I'm taking him home," she repeated louder, cutting Callum off. "Let me talk to him."

It wasn't a question, but a demand.

Callum threw up his hands. "Seriously?"

"Callum."

"Fine," he spat.

Arah turned back, gripping Barnaby's shoulders. He barely had time to register the warmth of her touch before—

Crack.

The party disappeared behind them, swallowed by silence.

Arah panted, swallowing a wave of nausea as they apparated into her flat, the silence heavy between them. Barnaby immediately pulled away from her, running a shaky hand through his disheveled hair.

"Have you lost your damned mind?!"

Barnaby's shoulders shook as he let out a bitter laugh. He paced the room like a caged animal, absently dabbing his sleeve to his mouth, drying the blood from his lip. Arah's heart ached at the sight of him, unsure of what possible torment was going on inside his head.

"Well?! Are you going to talk to me or stomp around like some angry troll?" Arah's voice shook with anger.

He froze, his body tense as he looked down in his hand- a folded piece of paper clenched in his grasp. He studied it a moment before meeting her gaze, a flicker of intensity in his green eyes. It wasn't anger—no, it was something deeper, something almost... desperate.

"What am I to you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"What?" Arah blinked.

"Just answer the damn question, Arah." He pleaded, voice suddenly heavy with the weight of whatever was plaguing him.

"You're... you're my best friend," she said, the words coming out soft and unsure.

"Is that all?" he spoke, his eyes desperate and searching.

Arah froze at the question, its meaning hanging heavy in the air. Because the truth of it was...

No, it wasn't. It never was.

A part of her had always loved Barnaby more than just a friend, she knew that now, even if she hadn't realized it then. She had fantasized about what could have been for years. But how could she tell Barnaby that now? How could she throw away everything she'd built with Callum? Something that was real. Somethingshe wasn't ready to walk away from.

She swallowed the truth, her heart shattering into a million pieces.

"Yes."

Barnaby's eyes went dark and distant. He nodded slowly in solemn acceptance, processing the words she had spoken, struggling to accept them as true.

"Do you love him?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"I... I don't know," she answered honestly.

Barnaby's gaze turned skyward, his chest rising and falling with a shaky breath. It was as if he were searching for something, anything. His face twisted, and she could see the pain written all over it.

He looked down at the folded piece of parchment clenched in his hand—creased and worn at the edges.

For a moment, it looked like he might hand it to her.

But then he slipped it back into his pocket.

"Are you happy?" his voice was quiet, almost defeated.

"I am." she admitted, despite the tears that now rolled down her face.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed another wave of grief. "Good." he said, his smile forced and hollow. "Good. That's all I've ever wanted for you."

Arah's heart squeezed painfully at the sincerity in his voice.

"Barnaby- " she began, but the words got stuck in her throat, unsure what more she could say.

Barnaby took a shaky breath, as if steeling himself for something. "I... I wanted to tell you I'm leaving."

The words hit her like a Bludger to the chest. Her thoughts scrambled, grasping for clarity, but everything felt dazed—like she'd missed a step on the Grand Staircase and was suddenly falling through empty air.

"What?" Arah stammered, struggling to make sense of the sudden confession. "When?"

"I was offered a job as a Magical Beasts Wrangler. I leave for Australia in two weeks."

Arah's chest tightened, the weight of his words crashing into her. She opened her mouth, grasping for protest-

"Don't." Barnaby's voice cracked, his hands trembling at his sides, "Please don't tell me to stay. Because for you, I'm afraid I would."

That wasn't fair. Her anger sparked like a lit fuse, curling hot through her limbs. "What am I supposed to do, Barns? Just stand here and be okay with that?!"

"Yes!" His voice rose, sharp and strained. "That's exactly what I'm asking you to do."

She stared at him, breath shallow as she shook her head in denial. "No. No, what can I do? Please, tell me what-"

"I can't stay here anymore, Arah!" he shouted, the words tearing out of him. It wasn't anger—it was something deeper. Raw. Fractured. "Not in that house. Not seeing you with—" He broke off, swallowing hard. His face twisted with something agonizing. "I need to find my own happiness. I can't find it here. Not anymore."

Arah's chest ached as she struggled to hold back the words that threatened to pour out. She wanted to beg him to stay, to tell him everything she had never said, but the silence between them grew heavier with each passing second.

"Okay," she bit out the words at last, the salt of her tears spilling through her lips. It was clear he had already made up his mind. She loved him enough to let him go. "Okay."

Barnaby faltered.

The tension in his jaw loosened, his breath catching as he saw her swipe away at her tears. The anger melted—replaced by something softer, aching.

He took a pained step toward her.

His green eyes swept over her, as if trying to commit every one of her features to memory. The warmth of his hand tucked a stray silver strand of hair behind her ear before settling on her cheek. His thumb grazed across her skin, wiping away her tears.

Arah leaned into the warmth of his palm, eyes fluttering shut, like maybe if she stayed still enough, he wouldn't go.

"Do me a favor."

"Anything." She breathed, a spark of hope flickered within.

"Don't say goodbye."

Arah's chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. The spark of hope that had flickered in her chest died instantly, replaced by the cold weight of reality.

"Barns, please—" she whispered, stepping forward-

But he was already gone.

The air still humming with the faint echo of his magic, the scent of earthy cedar and fresh laundry clinging to her like a ghost.


A/N:

This was gut-wrenching to write. Gah. I promise you we won't linger in this for long. We are going to be jumping ahead a bit more, so buckle up, buttercup.

As always, your comments / reviews mean so much to me and truly motivate me to keep writing. Thank you for those who continue to be invested in this story and share your thoughts with me!

When I tell you I've obsessed over this story for years, I'm not lying. This particular chapter was something I have daydreamed about for a LONG time. So thank you for taking the time to read this story and continue to comment and share such kind words and encouragement. It means so much to me.