(1 September, 1978)

Aurora followed along after her mother at King's Cross Station, her eyes downcast as she did her best to avoid looking at anyone that passed her by. In truth, her mind was a thousand miles away, her expression drawn, and her lips pursed into a persistent frown. And although she knew she ought to have been eager to board the train, and leave home for the refuge that Hogwarts had come to be, Aurora could not summon the enthusiasm that she used to hold for such an event, her expression remaining distant as she came to a stop behind her mother as soon as she realized the older woman had stopped moving, her narrowed eyes coming to rest upon her daughter as she leaned forward just enough so that she might whisper without fear of being overheard.

"You will say nothing of what happened to anyone, Aurora. Promise me."

"I won't," The young woman assured, her tone hollow, as though every last hope she had had been sucked away, leaving nothing but an empty shell in its place, "I won't damage the family's reputation."

"I will not have your cheek, girl—"

"This is not 'cheek', Mother."

"Then how else would you describe it?" Walburga hissed, risking a glance at their surroundings to ensure no one passing by was paying too close attention to their interaction, and reaching forward to curl bony fingers around her daughter's wrist once she was assured that no one had given them anything more than a passing glance, "How would you describe your snide remarks?"

"I was simply telling you I would do as you said."

"Oh, I very much doubt that."

"Doubt all you like. It is the truth," Aurora murmured, honestly not caring how her mother would interpret the remark as she found herself capable of tugging her wrist away from the older woman's grasp, just as the sound of the train's whistle split through the air, "I should go."

"Not a word, Aurora—"

"Not a word."

Turning from her mother, and heading towards the gathering throng of fellow students that were preparing to board the Hogwarts Express, Aurora was only barely aware of Regulus' presence at her side, her eyes once again rooting themselves to the cement beneath her feet as they slowly made their way towards the compartment doors. She could feel the presence of the other students surrounding her, a suffocating sort of weight that she could not dislodge, no matter how fiercely she tried to do exactly that. But no matter how badly she wanted to simply turn and run until she could finally—mercifully—be on her own, Aurora forced herself to continue moving forward, one trembling hand resting on the railing as she boarded the train, while she simultaneously became aware of the gentle pressure of Regulus' hand upon the small of her back to guide her, as well.

As soon as she was able, Aurora found herself flinching away from the gesture, the spasm of pain that made itself known on her brother's features causing her heart to twist within her chest, despite her lingering anger and disappointment over knowing exactly what he had done. Ever since she could remember, he had been her best friend. Her rock. A safe place to run, when nothing seemed to be going her way. But now, she felt as though she barely knew the man her brother had become, her steps carrying her away from him, and to an empty compartment as she hoped he would take the hint, and simply leave her to her own devices.

After having closed the compartment door behind her, and sinking into the seat such that she could lean against the window watching the lingering students on the pavement, below, Aurora curled her body in on itself and did her best to simply remember how to breathe. She knew her mother had meant what she said. That she was to tell no one what had happened, regardless of whether the act of letting it out into the open would help her deal with the event or not. In truth, she hardly understood it, herself, everything still having the tendency to blur together until it became far more trouble than it was worth to try and recollect anything at all. Her muscles still burned, on occasion, as though some sort of fire were trapped inside of her, just longing to break free again. But no matter how much something instinctive inside of her all but demanded that she simply give in, and allow whatever it was the freedom it so desired, Aurora resisted, her teeth grinding together as though the act would keep her grounded, when her force of will alone was incapable.

It would have been a lie to pretend that she was not abundantly grateful to be alone in her compartment, as the train gave a sudden jerk and began to pull away from the station, the people rushing along in its wake to wave goodbye to their family on board rather rapidly fading away, replaced by the sight of wide open skies, and green grass whizzing by as the train picked up speed. It was so easy to get lost in the view, something not all that far from numbness settling into Aurora's mind as she did her best to focus on what her eyes could see, gazing outside of the train's window, instead of dwelling on things that she could not fully recall. Losing herself in that task had given her a sort of escape, in spite of the fact that she could never have anticipated it being so, at all. But of course, that was before the soft squeak emitted by the compartment door sliding open reached her ears, her muscles tensing as she turned to see who had intruded upon her solitude, only to find her heart very nearly seizing in panic as she recognized the familiar appearance of the very person she had been trying so valiantly to avoid.

"There you are," The newcomer intoned, his words soft as he closed the compartment door behind him once again, and almost immediately frowned upon seeing the haggard and surprisingly guarded expression upon Aurora's face in the same motion, "What—Ro, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I can't—Barty, I can't tell you."

"Course you can. We tell each other everything, don't we?" Barty encouraged, taking a seat beside the young woman, and settling for reaching for her hand, as she had pulled away upon realizing his first desire would have been to wrap an arm about her shoulders, "Come on, Ro. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I don't think you could help me, even if I did," Aurora finally managed, keeping her eyes fixed upon the way Barty's fingers twined through her own, in hopes that by avoiding a direct look at his face, she would have a better chance at maintaining her composure despite the fact that she could already feel it hanging on by a thread, "I just—the last week of summer holiday was—"

"Rough?"

"You have no idea."

"Your parents?"

"The entire family."

"Even Reg?" Barty inquired, his fingers giving Aurora's smaller hand a squeeze that seemed enough to prompt her to finally meet his eyes head-on. What he saw when she did was all but heartbreaking, her usually warm hazel eyes now a deadened sort of brown, as though she held the weight of the world upon her shoulders, and there was no relief in sight. And although every single instinct he possessed wanted to pull her into his arms, if for no other reason than to give her a reason to let some of that burden free, Barty resisted, knowing full-well that if Aurora wanted such a thing, she would have already sought it out for herself.

"Yeah. Even Reg," She finally confirmed, her shoulders curving inward as she shifted to allow the position of her hand that was still firmly clutched in Barty's to become more comfortable, and frowning a bit as the act caused her thigh to press against his in response, "He—I feel like I don't even know him, anymore."

"Can you tell me why?"

Shaking her head, and biting at her lower lip as she realized the strange stinging sensation at the corners of her eyes was in fact a sign of impending tears, Aurora struggled to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat, as if sheer force of will alone could keep her intact. Everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours had been kept at the outside of her mind, somehow, though she could not entirely understand how she was capable of doing such a thing when all that she wanted, now, was to simply let go. And whether she knew that Barty would likely feel as though he failed her in some way if he could not help her in that process, Aurora was also poignantly aware that if she told him one of the things that had gone wrong in the past day, she would soon be telling him everything—

And regardless of the promise she had been forced to make her mother prior to boarding the train, Aurora was not at all willing to disclose everything that had troubled her in such a short period of time, particularly the bit of news that had sent her entire world reeling away from its moorings so quickly that she could almost still feel her head spinning as a result.

She could not tell him that she essentially belonged to another man, now. Not when all that she wanted was to ignore that reality, and live in the foolish dream she had created of a world where they could be together with no one saying a word of protest at all.

With such a reality before her, Aurora was left with nothing else to do but finally accept the previous offer inherent in Barty's attempt at curling an arm around her shoulder, her body sinking against his as he leaned back against the seat they occupied, while keeping his other hand clutched around her own. Though he was still very much troubled at the idea of whatever had happened while they had been apart, as it was clearly so terrible that Aurora was reluctant to tell him at all, he was also more than a little relieved that she had at least acquiesced to taking whatever small comfort he could offer, his arm tightening around her now trembling shoulders, while his mouth brushed against her dark hair.

Whether she told him of what had transpired since they had last seen each other in the near future, or at a much later date, Barty was determined to stand by her side, no matter what happened in the meantime…

But neither one of them could ever have hoped to have a full understanding of what was to come, and it would come very close to being their undoing.

…

(Little Whinging, 1981)

Stood on the porch of the young woman who had made such an effort to befriend her not long after she moved into the house on Privet Drive, Aurora held the plate Ellie had given her that was now full of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the fingers of her free hand lifting for just long enough to ring the doorbell, before her hand fell back to her side, so that she could drum her fingers against the fabric of her jeans. She did not have long to wait before the door was swinging open, revealing her neighbor with wide blue eyes, and long blonde hair done up in a messy bun, while the soft sounds of a Muggle band Aurora dimly recognized echoed from farther off down the hall. And, before she could lose her nerve, she was pressing the plate of cookies into Ellie's waiting hands, a half-smile upon her lips as she managed a tentative shrug before she spoke.

"Sorry for taking so long to return the plate—I wanted to think of something good to give you in return for those muffins."

"You liked them, then?"

"More than just a bit," Aurora admitted, surprised at the genuine smile that sprang to Ellie's lips in response as she stepped back from her open doorway and gestured for her to step into the foyer, herself, "Hopefully you feel the same about the cookies. I haven't—I haven't exactly baked anything in a while."

"Well, they smell absolutely amazing," Ellie enthused, carrying the tray of cookies into her small kitchen, and finding herself rather more than a little pleased that Aurora seemed to follow after her readily enough, "You don't mind if I try one now, do you? I haven't actually eaten anything yet, today."

"No, not at all!"

"Good. Feel free to take one, yourself, of course—"

"Oh, no. It's the mark of a poor baker to sample her wares," Aurora teased, surprising herself with the free laugh that she allowed as soon as she registered Ellie's own amusement in response to her remark, "You didn't—you really haven't eaten anything yet?"

"I only just got home from the hospital," The blonde confessed, noticing the startled expression that passed across her neighbor's features, and hurrying to reassure her before she could gather the wrong impression, entirely, "Not for myself! I—I work there. I'm a doctor."

"Oh. Oh, that's—that's impressive!"

"You really think so?"

"How could I not?"

"Well, it just seems fairly routine, to be honest," Ellie said, shrugging as she bit into the cookie she had plucked from the plate, and closing her eyes to emit a happy sigh as she chewed and swallowed with a soft hum of pleasure, "Wow. You, my friend, have a gift in the kitchen."

"As do you."

"Mm—no. No, I think these cookies are better than any muffin I've ever made."

"I hope you can forgive me, then, if I say I don't believe you," Aurora protested, flushing a bit in response to the compliment Ellie had given her, and glancing at the plate of cookies upon the kitchen counter, for a moment, before going on, "Those things were positively sinful."

"So are these."

"Thank you."

"Any time. Would you—would you like some tea? We could move into the den—" Ellie suggested, then, her hesitation making itself apparent in the slight waver to her voice, as she found herself wondering if her somewhat cautiously distant neighbor would agree to the offer of tea and further conversation, or if she would wish to make a hasty retreat to the confines of her own home. It had not taken her very long to realize that Aurora was a woman with secrets, and that she appeared inclined to guard those secrets to her last breath. And while she obviously understood that everyone had a right to their own privacy, and that there were literally no two people who processed things in the same way, Ellie could not help but worry that Aurora's manner of clinging to every last detail of her persona was far more detrimental to her than it was protective.

She had clearly made a habit of being so guarded that it had left her with nothing but a fierce desire to isolate herself from just about anyone that even tried to come into her life, and Ellie was all but determined to attempt to make herself the exception to that rule.

She, perhaps more than anyone, knew exactly how valuable a friend could be, and she was not about to deny Aurora that same opportunity if she had anything to say about it.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you," Aurora replied, then, her words effectively startling Ellie back out of her own internal musings, and causing her to direct a warm smile toward her companion before she shook her head, and almost immediately countered her neighbor's worry with an assurance of her own.

"If it was a trouble, love, I wouldn't have offered."

"Fair enough. I suppose that means my answer is a yes, then."

"Good. Why don't you go and get yourself settled, and I'll see about the tea," Ellie suggested, gesturing toward the doorway at the far end of the kitchen, and finding herself more than a little pleased that Aurora seemed to readily move off in that direction, while she set about filling the kettle with water to boil, before rummaging in the cupboard above the stove for the tea bags. Of course, she knew she had a long way to go, to make any sort of headway in earning her newfound neighbor's trust, and friendship, too, if she could be so lucky. But regardless of how much effort it took, she was determined to show the brunette that was now headed into her den that in spite of her own misgivings, perhaps letting someone in was not all that terrible of a decision as she seemed to believe.

Even only just having met her, Ellie could tell that Aurora was a woman with so much to offer, and she would be damned if she didn't give the young woman the chance to do exactly that, no matter how many road blocks she instinctively threw up along the way.

…

(5 March, 1976)

In the aftermath of James dragging her down to the Whomping Willow, in the hopes that they could somehow devise a way to stop Severus before he came upon Remus in mid-transformation, Aurora found herself once again standing by the surface of the lake, the chilly night wind ruffling tendrils of her hair, and causing her to shiver in response. Severus stood beside her, his expression impassive, and his skin paler than its usual hue, though his eyes did not betray a hint of the fear he must surely have felt, witnessing what he had. And although Aurora knew that she was playing with fire, trying to even begin to talk to him about what had just transpired, and the utter importance of keeping it a secret, she was powerless to stop trying, her smaller frame turning towards her companion's as she summoned the wherewithal to break the silence between them for the first time since they had arrived at the lake.

"Sev—you can't—you can't say anything about this—"

"After what they did? You're barking!"

"Only I'm not," Aurora pressed, a spasm of nerves causing her stomach to twist as she dropped her arms to her sides, even in the wake of the renewed breeze that ruffled at her hair and her clothes as well, "Please, Sev—I know you don't like them—"

"That would be the understatement of the century."

"But this goes so much farther beyond any petty quarrels—"

"That is what you call this? A petty quarrel?" Severus exclaimed, disbelief coloring his tone as he whirled to face his companion, and noticed her almost automatic flinch backwards in response to the volume of his retort, "They deliberately led me to where they knew, full well, that—that—monster was!"

"Don't say that. Please don't call him that," Aurora begged, her voice cracking in spite of her desire to keep her emotions in check, though she was miraculously still capable of keeping her frustrated tears at bay in favor of going on, "This isn't Remus' fault."

"No, you're right. It's your brother's. And you really are mad if you think I'm not going straight to the headmaster with this to get him expelled."

"But you can't! You can't, because if you did, and the real reason why got out—"

"You really think I give a damn if the rest of the school knows we've been harboring a—a freak—a dangerous animal, on the grounds?"

"You should. You should, Severus, because regardless of whether he poses a risk or not, Remus Lupin has never once done a thing to you to make you hate him so much."

"That's exactly it. He hasn't done a thing," Severus spat, turning away from Aurora and facing the lake once again, his gaze hardening as though a single gust of wind would shatter him entirely, "He just sits by, and lets the rest of his little gang do whatever they want."

"And you seem to be forgetting that one of the members of that gang just saved your life."

"Is that what you're calling it?"

"It is," Aurora confirmed, stepping just a bit closer to her taller companion, and ignoring the shiver of apprehension that rolled through her as he turned his gaze upon her and she noted nothing but disdain, "James knew exactly what—what Sirius had done, and he wanted to make it right."

"Well maybe he got there too late."

"Sev—"

"Don't, Aurora. Don't try to defend them when you know they don't come close to deserving it," Severus hissed, yanking his arm away as he realized that Aurora had moved to place her hand upon it, and hardly even noticing when his response to the gesture caused her to chew worriedly at her lip for a moment before she replied.

"What do you want me to do, then?"

"What?"

"I said what do you want me to do?" Aurora questioned, once again folding her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture as soon as she realized that all of her attempts at persuading her companion to see her side of things had failed, and would likely continue to do so, no matter how hard she tried for the opposite, "What can I do to help you?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Don't try to be her."

"What?"

"Don't try to be her," Severus repeated, stealing a glance at Aurora from out of the corner of his eye, and realizing that it took her a moment before her eyes had widened, showing her realization of exactly what he meant, such that he did not have to actually say her name, "Don't because you—you can't. No one can."

"She still—she's not speaking with you, then?"

"No. And I doubt that—I doubt that she ever will, again."

Saddened by the confession, and yet finding that she was not exactly surprised, in spite of it, given what she knew of the event that had transpired, Aurora could do nothing save for remain silent, in that moment, her frown deepening as she followed her companion's gaze as he looked back out over the lake. If the situation had been any different, they could have just been two friends spending a quiet evening together before returning back indoors, and to their studies. But the ordeal they were enduring now was far from being that simple, and Aurora would have been a liar to pretend she did not feel more than a little discouraged that nothing would ever be the same between them, again.

"I think you should go back up to the school now, Aurora," Severus said, then, the softer sound to his voice startling Aurora as she tore her gaze away from the lake once again, and looked at him directly, instead, "I just—I think I'll be better off down here on my own."

"You—are you sure?" Aurora inquired, her tone skeptical, to say the least, as she did what she could to force herself not to succumb to the urge to press upon him the necessity of remaining silent about what had just transpired once again. She knew that it would do no good. That it would only make him angrier if she persisted in what he so clearly saw as a vain attempt to defend her brother and his friends for all of the hardships they had ever inflicted upon him since they met in their first year. And so, she persisted in keeping silent, despite how anxious the prospect of him going to anyone about what had happened made her, her eyes meeting Severus' as he gave her a simple nod, and she was left with nothing to do but turn and head back towards the school in response.

She did not know how she was supposed to face Sirius in the wake of what he had done, but she felt still worse when she considered the prospect of enduring the consequences of his expulsion, instead.

Still, she forced herself to continue on towards the school, regardless, her footsteps heavy, to say the least as she was given ample time to consider her disappointment in her eldest brother's actions now that she was not absorbed in trying to deter Severus from doing anything rash. Ever since she could remember, she had always idolized Sirius, toddling around after him almost as soon as she could walk in an effort to stay as close as possible to him for as long as she could. And, even in the face of his eventual distance from Regulus, and her own growing bond with their middle sibling, Aurora had always felt like Sirius was her first true friend…

A fact that made his apparent decision to endanger a fellow classmate's life with a ridiculous prank all the more painful, as she realized perhaps he was not the man she had always believed he was.

Shaking her head as she struggled to reconcile that single act with the brother she had adored and placed on a pedestal for so very long, Aurora realized with a jolt that she had already approached the stairs, her feet taking to the task of trudging up to the castle doors while she remained lost within her own thoughts. In truth, she was dreading the following day at breakfast, knowing that she would not be able to escape her brother, or his friends. And although some small part of her was all but tempted to tell Sirius exactly how she felt about his foolish attempt at taunting the apparently permanent target of his jokes, she was not entirely sure that she could with Remus looking on, as well.

As much as she hated the idea of allowing Sirius to think she actually approved of his actions, she would be damned if she let Remus think that she blamed him in any way for them, as well.

Stymied, to say the least, over exactly what she was supposed to do to even begin to rectify the situation, Aurora moved through the front hall of the school in a daze, only dimly aware of the other people milling about, either en route to the library, or back to their dormitories for the remainder of the evening. Suddenly, she found she was nothing short of exhausted, the adrenaline of the past few hours leaving her in a rush so that she was left with nothing but a hollow feeling in its place. And although she knew that she would be far better served attempting to get a head start on some of the massive amounts of homework her teachers had assigned that day, Aurora knew that she would be much more likely to simply collapse into her bed, and sleep.

She could only hope that as soon as she laid her head down, she would actually be capable of shutting her eyes…

…

Hello there, my angels! And welcome (finally) to a brand new chapter in Aurora's tale! I am so, so sorry for the minor delay in posting (but I blame David Tennant wholeheartedly, since I kept finding new shows to watch with him in it, and that sparked a few other ideas for some stories based on said shows). So I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for my minor distraction, because I promise I have no intention of abandoning this story! I know this was another chapter that was rather heavy on the flashbacks, but I plan to do a small time jump soon to get Aurora to her very first meeting with Harry on Privet Drive. But I just couldn't help but delve a bit further into the aftermath of her learning of her engagement, and give her a bit more time with Barty and Severus as well. So hopefully that isn't too terrible! I have to admit, I have so many other flashbacks in mind, as well, particularly as they pertain to getting Barty and Aurora together, before the first war, and everything falls apart. But I'm going to try my best to pay equal attention to the present (Harry's early childhood, and then his school years eventually, as well), so hopefully everything works out according to plan!

As always my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (and special thanks to Ghostwriter71 for leaving such a lovely review last chapter)! I truly do appreciate the support, and I can only hope that you all enjoy this chapter as much as you appear to have enjoyed the last one!

Until next time, angels…

MOMM