A/N: As usual, I don't own Harry Potter. I thought it would be fun to do Arthur's parents. Reviews are the most welcome thing you can give me!

Prologue

For as long as I could remember my parents had told me stories about how successful marriages in the Black family were. Father told us that they were long (though I think that was because divorce was frowned upon in our world), full of healthy children (taken care of by house-elves) and very wealthy. Every child was well educated and brought up to be the best in any occasion. The Blacks were the cream of the crop so it was an honor to be married to one. Therefore, many people tried for my hand.

All my life my parents told me I had to uphold the family honor. They would tell me how pleased they were each time I did so. They were proud when I made Slytherin and was the top in my year. They would tell me what an honor it was that I was their daughter. They said they liked my taste in clothes, music and friends. I can't say it bothered me. I was never unhappy…or so I had thought. I had clothes, food, and shelter. Everything I ever asked for. My questions were always answered and my parents made sure I was comfortable. But something was missing.

I didn't know what the empty feeling was until I met Septimus. I never disliked him. He was odd with his fascination with Muggles and their things. He wasn't obsessed just curious. I'd see him with something he called a portable radio one day and the next he'd have an alarm clock. He had red hair as did his brothers. I had never seen such a color on anyone else. I had red hair as well, but it was different from his. While mine was cherry red his head looked like it was on fire. He also had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Charis had blue eyes, but his were kinder, softer. He was covered in freckles many more than any other person I had ever seen.

We first spoke to each other in fifth year. We were partners in Potions. He was awful with them and Slughorn new I was fantastic so he told me I was something of a tutor. Septimus and I got on like lightening and a dry wood. He was funny. That was the first thing I noticed. No one in my house ever laughed. Septimus cracked jokes left and right and I couldn't help but laugh. It felt so good, like a friend I had lost. I realized I loved to laugh.

The next thing I noticed was that Septimus was always happy. I never saw him frown. It was like someone had permanently stuck in the biggest smile he could muster. No one in family smiled that much. In fact, I think only the children ever smiled. It was like marriage made a permanent frown in our family. Septimus made me want to smile more and more until I saw no reason to frown again.

The last thing that struck me harder than anything was his connection with family. He was the youngest of four. His older brothers always said hello to him in the halls and when they graduated they sent him constant letters. His parents sent him care packages every week and there were love notes from them hidden in all his books, clothes and other possessions. They all told each other how much they loved each other.

Mother and Father only wrote when they were angry with us. Callidora was two years older than me. She never said anything to me when she saw me unless she wanted something from me. She was very vain and had time for only herself. Charis was two years younger than me and she hardly spoke to anyone but her best friend Cheyenne. She was very shy and didn't like people.

We were a family that knew nothing about each other. Septimus knew absolutely everything from how his parents met to his oldest brother's rock collection hidden in their basement. He knew all their favorites and what they disliked. I knew none of that. I had no idea whether Callidora preferred milk chocolate to dark or if she ate chocolate at all. I didn't know if Charis liked white, orange or violet.

It perturbed me so I asked Septimus why he needed to know all of that about his family. He looked at me as though I'd grown an extra head. Then he laughed before he realized I was serious.

"We love each other, we want to get to know each other." He said. "Don't your parents and sister love you? Don't you love them?"

I had no idea. I didn't know what love was. I thought that it was just a ruse to explain why people got married. When I told him this he looked astounded. He explained to me that was love came in many shapes and forms. When families love each other, it means that they would do anything for them. It meant that they cared very deeply for everyone's well being. Romantic love was the same for one person.

I thought about what he had said for a long time. Eventually I came to the conclusion that he was crazy. Every now and then though I felt the ache from that empty hole of something missing like I was suffocating. One night I woke up in a sweat. It wasn't a nightmare, but a revelation. I wanted to know what it felt like to love and be loved.