AN: I wrote this on a whim while going through a rough patch in trying to write my main fic, Dancing In The Moonlight. It stars my Arabella Figg from that fic when she is older. Writing this fic came surprisingly easy to me, which is weird because I think it handles some pretty difficult and upsetting stuff. It’s probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written – I kinda scared myself a little actually! I’m not making a habit of it. It’s romantic comedy writing for me from now on, most probably. Tell me what you think of it anyway.

Disclaimer: This is a song fic to The Corrs’ song No More Cry. It was actually written about the death of the band’s mother, and I think it’s a really inspirational song because instead of expressing their feelings in a slushy ballad like you would expect, it’s an up-tempo rock song which is ultimately uplifting. I don’t own it, The Corrs do, and they also own the lyrics to their song At Your Side which also enters briefly into this fic. I don’t own stuff recognisable from the Harry Potter books, JK Rowling (the wonderful person!) does.

By Mab Hippolyta

It was Hallowe’en night once again.

Arabella’s slight frame huddled and shivered beneath the crocheted blanket; she gazed blankly at the tears of rain trickling and streaking across the window pain.

It should be an evening of celebration for any witch or wizard, but Arabella Figg’s Hallowe’en nights would forever be tainted with nightmarish memories. No carved pumpkin lanterns illuminated her modest country cottage. But two candles glowed in the twilight, in remembrance of two of the bravest and dearest souls Arabella had ever known.

It had been one year since the passing of Lily and James Potter. Twelve painfully difficult months, in which Arabella had struggled to rebuild her life with little success. Her days were dreary and senseless, but the nights were much, much worse. Vivid images of their inert bodies, slain brutally by the savage Lord Voldemort… their tiny child, Harry, alive but alone, sobbing in his terror and grief… then that terrible, terrible truth – I could have stopped this… I could have prevented this horrific tragedy…

They said time was the greatest healer, but not in Arabella’s case. The frustration, the anger and the grief were overwhelming, all consuming and soul destroying. She had lost count of the number of times she had wished herself dead too, in hope that it would stop hurting then so she could find peace.

Perhaps what made it worse was the terrible act of betrayal that had sealed the Potters’ fate. Who the cowardly traitor who had given away their whereabouts was, Arabella didn’t know. They said it was Arabella’s lover, her school sweetheart Sirius Black, James’ best friend and the only man close enough to the Potters to able to commit such a crime. They said wild, wild things… apparently he was a ruthless mass-murderer, Voldemort’s right-hand-man, the incarnation of evil itself.

Lies… oh, the lies! The years didn’t make their sting go away. Under layers of invention and mendacity her Sirius was sentenced to eternal imprisonment in that Azkaban hell-mouth, guarded by the spirit-devastating miscreants they called the Dementors. Arabella had forgotten exactly many times she had protested against the Ministry’s decision to incarcerate so honest a soul, once publicly weeping at the feet of the Minister of Magic himself. Like everything else requiring close attention, the Ministry brushed Arabella’s pleas under the proverbial carpet, embarrassed that one of their own Aurors could make such an ‘error of judgement’. She lost her job, of course. Not that Arabella cared in the slightest. Not any more.

She had lost her dearest friends, her one true love and her ambitions. The cold, desolate abyss she was falling into was getting deeper, deeper, deeper. All happy memories were tainted with death, and the future was overcast with thunderstorm clouds and blackened shadows.

Arabella wrote letters to Sirius every day, in some dreamy hope that they might meet again some day. Only the Minister of Magic himself was permitted to visit high security captives like Sirius Black. It was the only prospect she could find to cling on too, although she knew from her Auror days that the prisoners of Azkaban usually promptly turned insane with depression or died in the process.

She would sign and seal the letter with a flourish and a kiss in a pink parchment envelope, misted with a spray of Arabella’s favourite perfume that Sirius had given her for her twenty-first birthday. She secretly perceived that obsessing over a man she would never see again was not a healthy or rational thing to do, but the piles of letters still crept higher and higher. What was healthy or rational didn’t matter when you loved someone that dearly.

It was no good. Writing the letters wasn’t helping any more. The nadir of the abyss was beckoning…

"What are you doing, Bell?" Remus tried to keep his tone even and calm. In front of him rampaged a maddened woman reduced to a child-like, wild state of being. She had savaged her home, smashing and crushing possessions she cherished. Her violin… the first bouquet of roses Sirius had given her which she had magically preserved… her first wand… her favourite cloak… all in tatters, all gone.

"Something – something I – I should have done – I should have done a long, long time – long, long time ago – " she muttered vaguely between shallow breaths. She was piling up all the letter she had written for Sirius. They must burn – burn, burn, burn … He must be evil… they say he is… let him burn too with the parchment… let this unbearable never-ending hurt be incinerated… burn, burn, burn…

She poised her wand. Say it. Incendio. Say it! SAY IT!

"Come to me, Bell," Remus said calmly. "You don’t want to do that, do you?"

Her white cheeks were splashed with tears. Confused and frightened, she collapsed to her knees and wept. "I want him back, god damn it!" she shrieked. "Why won’t they let me have him back?!"

"He’s gone, Bell," Remus whispered as he held her in his strong arms. "The Sirius we knew is gone forever. It hurts, I know it hurts…"

"You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong," Arabella sobbed like a little girl.

"Would our Sirius let Lily and James die?" Remus asked gently. "Would he kill his best friend Peter, and those Muggles? Would he do that, Bell?"

"He didn’t… I know it… I just know it…" she mumbled as she clung to her head to try and stop it spinning. "I tried to tell them… tried to… wouldn’t listen… wouldn’t listen…"

"I think you should go to bed, Bell," Remus said heavily, his heart breaking as he watched one of his dearest friend slowly lose her mind.

"You’re not listening!" Bell lashed out, nearly knocking Remus to the ground in her anger. "Why won’t anybody listen?! He was your best friend! Why are you doing this to him? Why are you doing this to me?"

"How are we today, Miss Figg?" asked the nurse, as she drew back the curtains to let the glaring light pour in. "It’s a lovely day."

Arabella was lying on the made bed, still in her robes, staring blankly at the bare ceiling. "Close the curtains, please," Bell said. "I like the dark."

"Do you want to go outside, today, Miss Figg? It’s a delightful day," The nurse’s voice maintained its merriment. "The other patients are planning a picnic. Do you want to join in?"

"No. I want the dark. I want to be like him."

"We’ve got cake, and sandwiches –"

"If I can’t be with him, I’ll be like him. I’ll suffer like him."

" – chocolate, biscuits, pumpkin juice –"

"Forever we will suffer until the truth is told. Forever…"

"Miss Figg, have you taken your medication yet, sweetheart?" the nurse frowned in concern. "If you’re having one of your funny turns again I can give you something to make you go to sleep and it will all go away…"

"It’ll never go away. Not for him. Not for me. He’s not alone… My Sirius is not alone…"

"How is she today, Nurse?" Remus asked the kindly lady on his daily two o’ clock visit to the ward at St. Mungo’s. "Any worse? Any better?"

"It’s hard to say," the nurse frowned. "She’s locked herself in her bed chamber with the curtains drawn, as if to simulate Black’s Azkaban cell. Obviously she blames herself for the tragedy and is trying to punish herself. There’s little I can do apart from ensure she gets a good night’s sleep, but now she won’t even let me in her room…"

Remus sighed. Of all his dearest friends, Arabella was the last one left, and now he was losing her too. Similarly to Sirius being Arabella’s only focus, Arabella was his only focus. Caring for her was the only thing that could distract him from missing Lily, James, Peter, and yes, even Sirius, and the terrible loneliness he had to bear day in, day out. He’d been unemployed for three years now, shunned by society and left to rot in his misery. If Arabella could only get better… he loved her with a painful intensity. Hopes of them one day having a life together was all that kept him surging on through his harsh reality. He saw giving in to the sadness as the easy way out; he was a fighter, a warrior; he would soldier on.

"Can I see Bell?" Remus asked.

"If she’ll let you," the nurse replied. "Perhaps you can get through to her."

"Perhaps I can. I hope I can."

He crossed the room, saddened by the chairs filled with patients muttering nonsense to themselves. It was hard to believe that the clever young girl with ambitions and dreams that Arabella had been had become one of them. It was a sign of the degree of evil she had witnessed; it had contorted her mind and blurred her focus. The doctors doubted she could ever recover fully from such a trauma.

With a lump in his throat, Remus knocked twice on Arabella’s door.

"I don’t want any pills, I told you!" sounded Bell’s shriek. "Go away."

"It’s me, Bell," Remus replied softly, his melancholy evident in his tone. "Remus."

"The werewolf," Bell grunted. "Was it you that took my Sirius away? Was it you that killed Lily and James and Peter?"

Remus gulped slowly. "No, it wasn’t me, Bell. I wouldn’t do that, because I love you. You know I love you, don’t you Bell?"

"Sirius loves me," Arabella said vaguely. "He used to kiss my hair and tell me so over and over again... Sirius loves me..."

"Will you open the door for me, Bell? Will you do that?"

"They won’t open Sirius’ door. They say he’s evil. Maybe they are right and I am evil too… did I kill Lily and James, Remus? Did I do that terrible thing?…"

"No, Bell. You’re very, very, very good. You’re an angel, and we all love you. Please let me look after you. You’re very, very poorly and you need me. Please open the door."

It was like talking to a child. Even as a child nobody had spoken to Bell like this; she had been a child prodigy, memorising violin concertos before her age reached double figures. Now Remus doubted whether Bell would recognise what a violin was.

"Who will look after Sirius?"

"Please, please open the door, Bell…"

"Who will look after him when he is poorly?"

"Please, Bell…"

"Nobody! Nobody will look after him. So nobody shall look after me. Nobody. I shall stay here till I die. Then I shall be with James and Lily…"

"You don’t want to die, Bell."

"Yes, yes, yes I do!" Bell started to wail and scream. "I want to be dead, dead, dead! I’m no good! I’m bad! I want to be dead!"

"Bell! BELL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

The smashing and crashing of Bell sabotaging the furniture in her bedroom resonated in Remus’ head. She’s going to kill herself, he panicked. Instinctively he started bashing at the door with his shoulder, using all the strength within him. He could hear Bell screaming. It was terrifying.

As the door flew off its hinges, Remus grabbed Bell’s tiny, quaking body as she lay weeping and bleeding on the floor amidst the shattered wood and glass.

"Oh my God," Remus’ voice shook when he noticed the rough piece of glass savagely jutting out of Arabella’s side. Rivers of blood streamed across the floor. "SOMEBODY! SOMEBODY HELP!"

"Merry Christmas, angel," Remus whispered as he clutched Bell’s hand. They said she was recovering, physically at least, but she seemed so fragile still.

"Merry Christmas," Bell croaked, and smiled. Remus hadn’t seen that beautiful grin in a long, long time.

"How are you feeling?"

"I’m okay," Bell said in a voice hoarse from lack of talking. "It doesn’t hurt so much today. The nurse gave me some books to read, but they’re not very good. I can’t stand Gilderoy Lockhart’s stuff."

Remus grinned. "I can bring in your old copy of Pride and Prejudice if you like. I know you love your Muggle classics."

"That would be wonderful. And Mansfield Park. I haven’t read that one in so long."

Was Remus being too optimistic in believing that Bell was beginning to sound more like her old self? With a light-hearted flourish, he handed Bell a Christmas present dressed in gold ribbon.

"Oh, you shouldn’t have. I haven’t got you anything."

"Open it, please. I think you’ll like it."

"Okay…" Bell grinned cheekily as she unwrapped the colourful parcel. It was a new set of robes, in a beautifully feminine shade of claret, trimmed with intricate lace and embroidered with a floral pattern around the hem. Bell gasped with excitement. "Oh, it’s beautiful!" she whispered as she kissed Remus on the cheek. "Thank you so much, Sirius! Love you!"

Sirius? Remus did a double take, frozen horror. Did she think he was Sirius?

"You always buy me such wonderful clothes, Sirius… you have the most immaculate taste… Oh, thank-you so much!…"

There were no words to fully explicate the devastation Remus felt. Had the dress triggered this strange behaviour? How stupid of him… Sirius always bought Arabella beautiful clothes… Remus struggled to remember if Arabella had called her by name before he had given her the gift. To his frustration, he couldn’t remember.

A male nurse entered the chamber. Bell gasped and laughed, declaring, "James! Oh, I can’t remember the last time I saw you! It’s been too long, too long! How are you? Where’s Lily and little Harry?"

It was too much to bear. Remus burst into heart-wrenching tears.

It’s the beginning of spring, a new start, Remus thought on his daily stroll to the hospital, desperately looking to cling to something positive. The scars of the last three or four years would never go away, but it was about time that the wounds healed over. He and Bell had suffered enough.

The doctors said Arabella was slipping in and out of delusions. Her mood swings were worse than ever. Sometimes she would be hysterically happy and would dance around the hospital gardens, belting out her favourite songs and laughing. It never lasted. In a fleeting instant she would turn from crying with happiness to weeping with tormenting sorrow. The delusions overwhelmed her at both extremes, but the sad ones were the dangerous ones. Last week the nurse said she had struck out at one of the other patients, giving him a black eye.

As Remus neared the hospital, he could see three or four patients out on the lawns with the nursing staff. Bell was singing like an angel, a song Remus didn’t recognise.

"When the daylight’s gone, and you’re on your own!" she belted out with all her power. "And you need a friend – just to be around! I will comfort you! I will take your hand! And I’ll pull you through! I will understand!"

Remus beamed at the sound of her silky sweet voice, never missing a note.

"She wrote it this morning," the nurse who had been mistaken for James said. "Quite extraordinary. Sat there in bed with a pen and paper, scribbling down lyrics and notes, and in ten minutes she stood up and sang it all the way through."

"Extraordinary," Remus gasped.

"And you know that, I’ll be at your side! There’s no need to worry! Together we’ll survive! Through the haste and hurry, I’ll be at your side!" she sang. "Remus Lupin! There you are! I was waiting for you, Remus Lupin!"

"I’m here, Arabella Figg," Remus smiled. Arabella had developed this new habit of calling everyone by their full names, and expected others to do the same or she’d get a bit peeved.

"Did you like my song?"

"Very much so, Arabella Figg."

"It’s for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. It says that I’ll look after you, just like you’ve looked after me. When you need me, I’ll be at your side."

Remus simply smiled, and hand in hand they walked around the grounds alone. Arabella was talking rationally and calmly in length, something she hadn’t been able to do in weeks without reverting into strangeness. She told Remus she’d heard the song in a dream, and she’d written it down straight away when she awoke so she didn’t forget it.

She then talked about her illness frankly with him. She said it was like walking along a road, trying to get home when it’s late and you’re thinking about thieves and murderers and beasts that might get you in the dark. Then you get lost, and all of the sudden these horrible things seem real even though there’s nothing there, and you get frightened and confused. She said it felt like the sun was coming out again; she was still shaken by the experience but at least she could see her way home ahead of her.

Remus said nothing; listening to her talk and make perfect sense was wonderful. She told him that now she could feel the dark clouds moving away, she wanted to be there for him like he had done for her. He wasn’t alone any more.

For the first time since his late teens, Remus was beginning to see the world as a land of opportunity again. What he had once seen as a miserable place of downtrodden dreams and emptiness was changing. Colours were brighter and the darkness was weakening. When he walked down the street, he noticed people smiling.

Since that morning when Bell had written that song, her progress had come on in leaps and bounds. The doctors who said she may never fully recover were now eating their words. They now let Bell stay with Remus at his house, as long as she checked in to see the psychiatrist once a week. She was still unstable and would cry easily, occasionally go for hours without speaking a word even when addressed directly. Generally though, she was practically her old self, if a little more contemplative and a lot less bold and confident.

It was the day Remus had been dreading. Arabella had been particularly quiet and irritable all week, and the doctors said today could be the day that Arabella lost her way home again.

Three years. Three years. Had it really been that long? In a way it seemed like yesterday that Remus had been laughing with James, Lily, Peter, Sirius and Arabella at his 21^st birthday party. Harry had been born just days before, and he was so beautiful and incredible that everyone, Remus included, eventually completely forgot what they were supposed to be celebrating.

Yet it felt like the pain of the loss and betrayal of Hallowe’en 1981 had been plaguing Arabella and him for a hellish eternity. Time is a strange thing; sometimes Remus was so aware of it, it hurt, and other times he never noticed it passing.

He looked in the mirror at his sallow, bony face. Another grey hair – can you believe that? Only twenty-four and he was getting bloody grey hair. It was times like this when Remus was all too conscious of time running too fast for him to keep up.

From downstairs, he could hear Arabella singing. He recognised the melody instantly as a lullaby Lily used to sing to baby Harry. He could see Lily now, rocking the little bundle to sleep, James at her side, them both swelling with happiness. It was a poignant and moving image, but he tried to remember their laughter and exuberance rather than their cruel fate.

He wandered downstairs to check Arabella was all right. She had a photograph of Harry, James and Lily in her hand that was splashed with tears. She smiled at Remus and they held each other for a few tender moments, listening to each other breathe.

There was no mood swings, no delusions, no sabotaging furniture, no violence. No relapse. Arabella had proved that she was strong again. For those fleeting seconds in each others arms, their only thoughts were of each other. It was Remus and Arabella. Arabella and Remus. They were still together, and that was all that mattered for now.

It had been a fragile and strange day for both of them. Arabella had spent hours visualising herself on her imaginary road home; she didn’t dare take her eyes off the road in fear of getting lost again. One more step, and you’ll be home, she’d think to herself persistently.

Asleep, she continued her way home in her dreams. It became increasingly difficult to keep her eyes and thoughts from wandering away the road… her steps became slower, more tiring, heavier. In her dream she gasped for breath, clutching her aching chest, urging her throbbing legs to go on. She heard whispers, some encouraging her forward while others attempted to torment her into a frenzied panic.

The hazy nothingness of confusion was threatening Arabella. Was she going to move on to the future, or wallow forever in the past?

"Come home, Bell, honey," said a familiar voice. Lily. It was Lily’s voice.

In her dream, Bell looked forward, shielding her eyes from a white bright light. She couldn’t bear the intensity of the luminosity at first, but once her eyes adjusted she could see that the glorious glow was Lily. She was an angel, holding out her hand for Bell to grasp.

"What will happen to me if I take your hand?"

"I don’t know that, my darling. The future is uncertain."

"What will happen if I don’t?"

"Then you’ll be doomed to wander this same path forever, in circles, risking getting lost again for all eternity. Take my hand Bell. You don’t have to forget the past, but you do have to embrace the future. It’s that or condemn yourself to endless hardship and misery."

Bell nodded, and tried to raise her hand. It felt so very, very heavy – like it was made of solid rock – lift up, arm – lift UP! – it took incredible effort to even move it slightly.

"Come on, my Arabella! You can do it!"

"Just a little further, and you’ll reach me!"

Bell gasped. It suddenly became so easy. There was no fight any more, because with every essence of her being wanted to take Lily’s hand and move on. As their fingers touched they both smiled.

"Go home, Bell," Lily whispered. "One day soon we’ll meet again."

With a jolt, Bell woke up.

Gasping for breath, she gripped the blankets as if the whole world was about to slip away from under her feet. She recalled the dream… the road… the whispers… the bright light… Lily, the angel… then, taking her hand, to go home… to embrace the future…

She had woken up. Did that mean she was still pacing that seemingly endless road, looking for a way home? Had Lily failed to help her in time?

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Remus popped his head around the door. "Beautiful morning, isn’t it? I made you breakfast… eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomato, fried bread… all the way you like it…"

Bell wasn’t really listening. She was still thinking about the dream.

"… Freshly squeezed orange juice too… oh, and some toast and marmalade… What’s the matter? Did you want cereal too?…"

Then by some amazing spark of inspiration she understood. Lily had saved her. She was home. Remus was her future.

She didn’t speak for a good few seconds, which disconcerted Remus.

"Bell, are you all right?"

"I’m better than all right," Bell said at last, beaming. Her mind was racing with wonderful thoughts of all the amazing things she now felt she could do. She felt brave and daring in her new-found sense of freedom. She got out of bed and dragged Remus into the room, causing him to drop the breakfast things all over the floor.

"Oh, bloody hell…" Remus sighed, stopping to clear up, but Bell stopped him, taking his arm. She held his face in her hands and slowly and gently kissed him.

AN: So, what do you think? I haven’t had much experience with mental illness so I don’t know if my portrayal was accurate – I just wrote what felt right. Was the ending too predictable? I’m sorry, I just had to let it end happily! Please tell me what you think, constructive criticisms help improve my writing.