AN: Something I just couldn't resist writing. Enjoy everyone.

June 1899

It was a wet and miserable day for the funeral. The heavy pelts of rain made great muddy pools in the ground around the family grave, where my mother's casket was being lowered. Beside me, my brother Aberforth stood; weeping, solitary and uncomforted. A stronger, better man, would have put a reassuring arm around his younger brother; alas I was not that man. I stood alone, concerned only with my own feelings, staring down as the casket was lowered into the muddy Earth. I was first to take the handful of dirt and cast it across my Mother's coffin; my duty was done.

As according to my Mother's wishes there were very few attendees at the funeral and no wake to follow the funeral. My Mother, being a private woman continued to extend her command, even from the beyond the grave, not to invite people into the house. Thus the few attendees bade my brother and I farewell and gave their deepest regards and sympathies at the graveside, before returning to their mundane lives. Elphias Doge was present, and despite our long friendship seemed quite at a loss at what to say. He shook my brother's hand most formerly before turning to me.

"I will send you an owl Albus. I promise. My...my deepest sympathies..." he said earnestly, but paused and frowned as if something else was at the tip of his tongue and was unable to make it into words. I thanked him and allowed him to leave. Anything he needed to say could be put in a letter.

Bathilda escorted my brother and I home. She seemed to look upon us boys as her wards I believe, although I was now head of the family and had no need for a guardian. She was a busy body, and the more time she spent working on her history books the less of a fuss she seemed to make over us. Now however, I confess she was between books and quite devoted to our wellbeing. I walked beside her, holding an umbrella over our heads. Aberforth walked at the side of the road, where the mud was thickest. His hands were buried deep in his pockets and his head was lowered sullenly. He was determined not to look my way.

"Come Aberforth, you'll soil your shoes." Bathilda said. Aberforth said nothing.

"I'm afraid my brother does not wish to walk beside me." I explained, loud enough for Aberforth to hear.

"Boys...this is not the time for quarrelling. You must be there for each other more than ever. You must cling to the family you have left; not turn them away, Aberforth."

"Agreed." Aberforth said angrily, glancing over his shoulder and looking at me for the first time since we set off for the funeral. It was only a momentary glare however, and he immediately turned his eyes forward again and continued to march through the mud. Bathilda looked upon me to relieve the answers to Aberforth evident displeasure. However, perhaps it was out of my own shame or that I had inherited my mother's partiality for secrecy that I could not explain our behaviour.

I was grateful when the path ended at our cottage. Aberforth, who was ahead of me, strolled through the gate without a backwards glance. I looked apologetically to Bathilda who shook her head, unfazed by his behaviour.

"Don't be hard on him, Albus. He's younger than you and feels his grief more fiercely. Aberforth has always been run by his emotions, have you not always said that?"

"I have." I agreed. She took my hand in hers, squeezed it and peered up at me unblinkingly, her pale eyes locked with mine.

"There's no need to be so proud. Should you need anything, anything at all, you need only ask."

"Thank you, Miss Bagshot. I know my Mother took her time to accept your hand of friendship, but it was always very much appreciated, and still is."

She smiled warmly.

"You're a good boy, Albus. Now...you go see to that brother and sister of yours," she patted my shoulder and turned away back to her own cottage, lifting the skirts of her robes above her ankles to avoid the mud.

As soon as the door had closed behind me, I heard the sound of sniffling and whimpering, coming from inside the house. I marched through to the kitchen, where I found Ariana, sitting at the kitchen table, crying into her handkerchief; Aberforth's arms were around her.

"Oh...Albus..." she whimpered, her lip quivering. I would have embraced her, comforted her and wiped her face, if she had been a normal girl, but not Ariana. The moment my arms closed around her she was have broken down into hearty sobs. I had no choice but to remain cold.

"Ariana, you've got to stop crying."

Aberforth glared at me.

"Let the poor girl grieve, for Merlin's sake!" he growled.

"You know the consequences of that." I said calmly, then I turned to Ariana. "I'm sorry, it is sad."

"She should have been there, Albus!" Aberforth's voice shook, as if ready to roar and sob. I continued, in the calmest voice I could muster.

"And risk a fit of an attack? I'm sorry Ariana, you know you couldn't have risked it."

"I'd have been there!" Aberforth said fiercely. "I know how to calm her down. It's not right that Ariana wasn't able to grieve for our Mother."

"I...I'm sorry," she said, placing her thin hand on her heart. I felt a great surge of affection for my little sister at that moment. I say now, that I never blamed her for our Mother's death, the destruction caused by her emotional outbursts was not her fault but that of an entirely different entity. A demon, that lived inside her. I knew she did not feel the same, she blamed herself for every seizure and explosion despite our attempts to reassure her; this only riled her more. "Was the funeral beautiful?" She asked in her simple way of speaking.

"Apart from the weather...our Mother went to rest in peace and ease." I explained. "She was mourned and Miss Bagshot said a beautiful eulogy for her." At that moment, I myself felt a tear biting the back of my eye, and without warning it spilled over my cheek. Ariana's eyes widened. She raised from her seat. She was very slight for her fourteen years; small, and very slim, she moved like a new born sparrow towards me, with fear and grace and fragility. Reaching out her thin arms, she embraced me; she was so loving and affectionate and I wished I could have shown her the warmth she deserved.

"Ariana, you look tired, perhaps you should have a lie down." I told her, stroking her head. Aberforth was watching me beadily, as if expecting me to do something terrible.

"Yes. Yes." she said looking at our brother, who nodded. With a hesitant smile, she wiped her own tears with her handkerchief and left the kitchen. Aberforth and I said nothing to each other until we heard our sister's footsteps trail away up the stairs, across the landing, and her bedroom door close behind her.

"What now?" Aberforth said putting his muddy boots up on the kitchen table, as our Mother would never have allowed. He knew I would let him get his way, and I did as he expected.

"I have some letters to write. I'll be in my room." I said. "Do you need anything."

"I'll see to the goats. Batty next door brought enough food over in the pantry yesterday, so I won't cook, and I know you won't." He said bitterly and looked out of the window. With no more to say to each other without breaking into argument and disturbing Ariana, I left him with his thoughts and his solitude.

AN: New chapter coming soon!