(24 December, 1978)
Aurora stood on the veranda just outside the sitting room of her parents' home, her arms braced across her chest to ward off the chill of the night air while she gazed up at the stars overhead. For a moment, she could almost forget where she was. Forget the presence of the man beside her as he reached out a hand to brush a dark curl away from her cheek, before allowing the pad of that finger to trace down her neck to her shoulder. For a moment, she could have convinced herself that the touch came from someone else, entirely. That she was back at Hogwarts, in the Astronomy Tower, with the memory of another man's kiss upon her lips. But of course, she was not at Hogwarts. And the man whose cologne wafted against her nostrils now was not the one she loved so fiercely she felt her heart may shatter from the force of it…
No, he was another man entirely, and his touch forced Aurora to do all in her power to avoid cringing away as though his touch was the most repulsive thing she had ever experienced in her life.
"You are cold."
"Not—not really," Aurora demurred, shying away from Evan's touch, despite the fact that his light blue eyes seemed to lock upon her gaze, refusing to let go, "I'm fine."
"Nonsense. Let me give you my jacket," Evan insisted, shucking the garment and sweeping it around Aurora's shoulders with a flourish before she could even open her mouth to object, "I won't have it said that I allowed my betrothed to freeze to death on her own veranda."
"I doubt I would freeze to death—"
"One never knows. It seemed to me your mother was rather fond of the idea of the two of us spending some time alone. She may elect to lock us out if we attempted to return indoors."
Knowing that Evan was right, inasmuch as she did not want to admit it, Aurora simply nodded her agreement, and allowed her future husband to tighten his jacket around her shoulders, his hands smoothing over the fabric in such a way that gave her the impression he was not so much seeking to ensure her warmth, as he was attempting to prolong the contact between them without anyone feeling it was improper. If her mother, or her father, were to risk a glance out the window, all they would see was a young man trying to be chivalrous. Trying to keep his intended warm.
If only Aurora could manage to turn that thought into enough gumption to believe that Evan's motives truly were that pure…
"Thank you," Aurora finally managed, forcing a smile to her lips, and stepping back as graciously as she could to maneuver her way out of Evan's grasp, only to find that he had begun to pull her towards him and loop an arm about her waist, instead. In truth, she was surprised at the strength he had, holding her to his side without very much effort at all. But before she could blurt what was truly on her mind, in response to that realization, Aurora quickly changed her mind, pursing her lips for a moment before settling on what her mother would call a more appropriate range of conversation, instead.
"Won't you take a chill, now that I have your jacket?"
"Perhaps that is why I am keeping you close."
"I—I see."
"Do you object?" Evan inquired, drawing back just enough to glance down at Aurora's flushed cheeks, and watching as she swallowed and shook her head before she replied.
"N—no. No, not at all, I just—"
"You were concerned for my welfare."
"I—yes," Aurora confirmed, wetting her lips with her tongue, and forcing herself to relax as Evan pulled her back to rest snugly against his side once again. If she focused on the stars again, rather than spending too much time paying attention to the crawling of her skin beneath Evan's touch, Aurora found that she could remain as pliant as she was likely expected to be, her heartrate slowing as she settled upon simply remaining as still as she could. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine someone else was holding her so tightly—that she would turn to glance his way, and he would press his lips to hers, and she would lose herself in the moment like she had so often, before. But that dream was squashed far too quickly for her liking as she registered a chill breeze blowing small tendrils of hair about her face, and causing the scent of Evan's cologne to make itself known, bringing her momentary relief crashing down around her in mere seconds, flat.
"You're shivering."
"I'm fine."
"Why don't we go inside?"
"No! I—I mean—no," Aurora pleaded, noting the slight flicker of surprise that passed through Evan's eyes as he watched her clutch at the edges of his jacket as though suddenly fearful it would fly away, "My—my mother would ask questions."
"What sorts of questions?"
"Unwelcome ones. She might—she would think I had offended you."
"Well then, it wouldn't do to have her thinking that," Evan mused, relinquishing his hold upon Aurora's waist, in favor of turning to face her directly, while one hand lifted to rest beneath her chin in order to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, "You fear her."
"I—what? No, I—I don't fear her!"
"She is a formidable woman, Aurora. I think it might be wise to."
"I don't," Aurora pressed, silently grateful that her voice did not waver, and that she was somehow capable of maintaining her neutral expression as she forced herself to continue meeting Evan's gaze head-on, "But I do wish to avoid giving her reason to doubt my ability to be a proper hostess whenever I can."
"Has she had reason to do so, before?"
"More often than I would like."
The sound of Evan's sudden laughter caused Aurora to flinch, one foot instinctively inching backwards in spite of the weight of her intended's hand as it dropped down to reach for her own in the same motion. His palm was calloused against her skin, his grip strong as his fingers threaded through her own. And although she wanted nothing more than to simply pull away, Aurora grit her teeth and remained precisely where she was, her breath leaving her lungs in a shaky rush as she realized that Evan's other hand had come to rest lightly upon her cheek. As he drew nearer, she could feel the warm gusts of his breath against her skin. She could feel his grip tightening upon her hand as he leaned down to hover mere millimeters away from her face. And, in response to the panic that seeped through her veins, lighting fires in every nerve ending she possessed, Aurora found that she was suddenly wrenching away from the man that was to be her husband, one hand lifting to cover her mouth as her breathing turned to strangled gasps.
"Aurora?"
"I—don't—I'm fine," The young woman gasped, stumbling backwards until she could cling to the brick siding of her house as though it were the only thing that could keep her standing. Every muscle—every bone and tendon burned, exactly as it had the night she had first learned of her engagement. Aurora would have been a liar to pretend she could not feel the panic clawing its way up her throat in response to the realization, her vision blurring as hot tears began to spill down her cheeks. This could not be happening now. Not again.
Her mother had made it very clear that if her intended, or his family were to catch any hint of her illness, such as it was, the consequences would be severe…
She did not want to even contemplate facing Walburga Black's ire, should the Rosiers withdraw their offer, any more than she wished for news of her insufficiencies to be spread around the wizarding world like wildfire.
"Get—get Reg. Please."
"Regulus? Shouldn't I get your parents?" Evan countered, aware of the almost immediate shake of the head that Aurora gave in response, despite the rattling sound coming from her attempts to draw breath, "Aurora—"
"Reg! P—please, I need—I need my brother."
Consumed in the act of sinking down until she crouched with her back against the bricks behind her, Aurora curled in on herself, trembling arms winding around her knees while she remained oblivious to the dampness that soaked into the skirt of her dress. She knew her mother would be displeased. That poor Kreacher would likely be forced to spend hours mending and cleaning it as a result of her carelessness. But even in spite of the small spasm of guilt she felt over the thought, Aurora could not seem to move, her entire being focused upon trying to regain some control over her fractured breathing in the hopes that she could keep herself in the here and now. She could not afford what had happened the previous summer happening again. Not with guests. And although she truly did not want to risk Regulus getting too close, should the worst happen—should she lose control—Aurora knew he may just be the only one capable of calming her down enough to have hope of holding onto her composure for the duration of the evening.
She could only hope that Evan would be discreet, rather than alerting her mother to the fact that something was wrong, or her problems may only get worse, rather than better…
…
(Little Whinging, 1988)
After spending the majority of the evening encouraging Harry Potter to take as many cookies as he would like, and listening as he launched into a rather animated description of one of the shows he had watched while in the care of Mrs. Figg, Aurora found herself alone in her den once more, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as she stared absently at the threads of the sofa as though they were the most fascinating thing in the world. The pull of her memories had become very near to overwhelming in the wake of the boy's departure, her defenses seeming to fracture as soon as Harry's presence no longer required them to remain intact.
Everything she had worked so diligently to keep out of her mind had come barreling back in with a vengeance, and she would have been a fool to ignore the burning behind her eyes that throbbed in time with the sudden dull ache in her chest, near the vicinity of her heart.
She had not seen Lily and James Potter much after they had left Hogwarts, her own studies, and later on, her marriage and the need to avoid contact with anyone not already included in her husband's group of friends and colleagues keeping them apart more than either party would have liked. Lily had always been kind to her, and James had been more like another older brother than simply one of Sirius' acquaintances, regardless of how their social circles had diverged as time went on. She never wanted to be forced to ignore them, acting as though they were strangers at best, and something disgusting she had scraped off of the bottom of her boot at the worst, were they ever to meet in public during the war. But survival had dictated that she do precisely that, and luck or something else entirely made it so she was never forced to choose between her former friends, and her husband's expectations…
Of course, even that reality had never been enough to assuage her guilt, and seeing a living reminder of everything that Lily and James had sacrificed was only making that guilt announce its presence as though she had truly ever believed it had a chance of going away.
Lifting a hand to dash at the tears that had finally broken free, Aurora forced herself to stand, and move towards the kitchen, her hand trembling as it fell back to her side, and she was forced to lean against the countertop in order to give herself something to grasp onto. In the wake of her apparently morose line of thought, her knees had started to shake, making the task of remaining upright a difficult one, to say the least. But before she could become too panicked by the thought of what her sudden surge in emotions may mean, Aurora found herself distracted by the sound of a soft knocking on the front door, her brow furrowing as she waited with bated breath for a moment until the knock repeated itself once again.
Who would be at her door at this time of night?
Distracted from her sudden anxiousness, the young woman moved cautiously towards the door, her hand reaching for her wand where it resided in a drawer near the stove, and stowing it in her back pocket for ready use, should it become necessary. It would have been a lie to pretend that she did not abhor the idea of having to risk drawing attention to herself, should a fight in fact break out. But inasmuch as she did not wish to be forced to rely on the skills that had kept her alive before everything had fallen apart, Aurora was also determined that she would not simply stand aside and let a threat overwhelm her completely without at least attempting to fight back.
She was too much like her older brothers for all of that…
Gritting her teeth in hopes that it would steel her nerves, and give her the courage to open the door as though nothing was amiss, Aurora reached for the doorknob, her lips pursing as she did her best to ignore the tremble of the gesture, while her free hand rested at her back pocket, near her wand. Her entire body was taut, waiting for a potential confrontation that she hoped would never come. And yet, as soon as she recognized the person on the other side of the door, all of the tension left her frame in mere seconds, flat, a tentative smile spreading across her lips before instinct prevailed and she vaulted herself into the visitor's arms before she could think twice about how such a thing might look if any of her neighbors were peering out of their windows.
"Remus!"
"Hello, Aurora," The werewolf replied, only freezing for a moment in the wake of the unexpected enthusiasm in his companion's response to his presence, before he was relaxing, and tightening his arms around her waist in turn. It would have been a lie to pretend that it did not do far more good than he thought he deserved, feeling the connection to another soul that he had been missing for what seemed like ages. And perhaps that realization alone gave him the strength he needed to manage a faint smile for his friend as he pulled back and gave her the once over, before releasing her in order to better follow her into the foyer of her home.
"You look—healthy."
"I am, for the most part," Aurora confirmed, keeping her attention fixed on the task of removing the throw blanket that had been strewn across the sofa as soon as she entered the den, in hopes that it would prevent Remus from sensing the slight lie that was so inherent in her reply, "Just—attempting to adjust. Did—did Dumbledore send you?"
"No. No, I decided to come myself," Lupin informed, tired eyes tracing Aurora's movements as she folded the blanket and placed it on the back of the sofa, and then turned to pick up one of the corresponding decorative pillows from the floor to place it on the cushion near the coffee table, instead, "You hardly need to tidy up, you know."
"Oh, I—I supposed I hadn't really realized I was."
"Old habits?"
"They do die hard. Can I at least offer you something to drink, if I'm not permitted to clean up a bit?"
"No, thank you. I—I am afraid I cannot stay long."
"No?" Aurora murmured, trying and failing to keep the disappointment from her voice as she turned to face her guest, with one brow lifted in open inquiry over his intentions, "May I ask why not?"
"You may, but I believe you already know the answer," Remus supplied, following Aurora's gesture to sit upon the sofa, though he only did so after ensuring she had taken a seat in the chair opposite where he sat, as well, "You have always been a rather perceptive witch, Aurora."
"If this is about your fear of being a burden, Remus, I can promise you, you are nothing of the sort."
"You only say so because you are too polite to consider doing otherwise."
"I only say so because I care about you. And I, for one, think that we would both be better suited for some companionship than we would be to being alone."
"I believe Dumbledore would not want me to risk your presence here drawing more attention than it should," Remus pressed, aware of the way his companion's expression seemed to harden just a bit, and finding himself not even remotely capable of suppressing the soft laugh that broke free in response, even if it did earn him a surprised glance in return, "You know he does, whether you care to admit it to yourself or not."
"Then why did you come? If it was not for an ordinary visit, or a prolonged stay. Which, by the way, you would be more than welcome to, whether you want to admit it or not."
"I came, admittedly, for rather selfish reasons."
"Oh?"
"I suppose you could say I was desperate to see an old friend."
"An old friend you apparently cannot stay with," Aurora quipped, tempering any risk of censure in her reply with a faint smile of her own, and finding herself more than a little relieved that Remus appeared to take the gesture as it was intended while she went on, "Is the Order checking up on me?"
"Aurora—"
"I couldn't exactly blame them, if they were. The need to keep my husband in the dark must have made some of my actions more than a little suspect."
"None of us suspect your loyalty," Remus interjected, catching on to the flicker of doubt that passed over the young woman's features, and almost immediately regretting the fact that he was the one that caused it to come into existence in the first place, "But we also are well aware of your losses, and how they may impact you on a day-to-day basis."
"You mean Dumbledore recalls what Slughorn believed my problem was, and is fearful it may make an appearance again."
"He is only looking out for you. For your well-being," Remus clarified, frowning as he realized Aurora did not appear to be at all convinced, and that she had in fact withdrawn just a bit in response, with her shoulders hunched, and arms crossed over her chest, "Have you experienced any—"
"Any symptoms? No," Aurora began, chewing at the inside of her cheek as she averted her gaze to the book that still remained on her coffee table, a constant reminder that she had not been capable of persuading herself to sit still for long enough to read, "Why the sudden concern? I've been living here without incident for years, now."
"You have been on your own for those years, Aurora. You need contact."
"Says the man who deliberately isolates himself for fear of harming one of his friends. You and I are the same, Remus."
"You have not killed—"
"Oh, but I have."
Unbidden, the declaration had risen to her lips, tumbling into the open before she could stop it, and prompting her to clasp a hand over her mouth in delayed horror at having said such a thing out loud. She could see the open disbelief that made itself known in Remus' expression, and she wished with all that she had that she had truly earned his apparent faith that she would never take another life, no matter what the cost. But she was not that girl he had known at Hogwarts, anymore. The sweet, innocent girl, that would have defended her friends with her dying breath, but would never have sought to harm another soul, if that outcome could be avoided.
That girl had died the day she married Evan Rosier.
Still, Aurora was not entirely willing to allow Remus to think the worst of her, even in spite of all that she had done, her hazel eyes meeting his as she bit her lip for a moment, before summoning the wherewithal to speak once more, and hoping with all that she had that he would understand what had caused her to do the only thing she thought she could do to survive.
"I'm not proud of it, but I have. During the—during the war," She explained, watching Remus' expression turn from one of surprise, to one of sudden understanding, instead as he leaned forward almost immediately to place both elbows upon his knees while his fingers threaded together before him, "Believe me, there was nothing I hated more than playing both sides, but—"
"You have nothing to apologize for, Aurora. You did what you had to do to survive, both your marriage and the companions he brought into your home."
"I could have done something different—"
"And for that, you would have been killed."
"Sometimes I—I wonder if that might not have been better," Aurora confessed, hating herself for succumbing to the admission, though she suspected Remus may have already come to the conclusion, himself, if the expression that trailed across his face were any indication, "Don't look at me like that, Remus. I'm not saying this for pity."
"I know that, Aurora. That is precisely what worries me."
"Why is that?"
"Because although Dumbledore and I have every reason to believe you will protect Harry Potter, should the need arise, we would both be blind to pretend we did not feel concern over the lengths you may feel you must go to in order to atone for what you perceive to be past sins."
"I feel I need to atone for them because I do."
"Then you would be the only one who thinks so," Remus argued, his tone vehement despite the gentleness that still remained, as if he truly wished to avoid frightening her off, "Tell me why you agreed to do this."
"What?"
"When Dumbledore came to you, and asked you to watch over Harry, why did you agree? To die? Or to get another chance to live?"
"I—I do not know."
"See, I believe you do. Lily wanted you to be his godmother, you know—"
"She—she did?" Aurora questioned, shock coloring her tone as she found her thoughts diverted from thoughts of her own misdeeds, and her eyes once again met her companion's, this time with some small hint of the spark they formerly possessed as she went on, "I—I never knew."
"She and James felt that you and Sirius would be the boy's best chance, should anything befall them. And, now that Sirius is—"
"In prison."
"In prison," Remus repeated, a sad smile toying at the corners of his mouth as he regarded the young woman sat before him, for a moment, before going on, "You are all the boy has left."
"I told Dumbledore I would protect him, and I meant it."
"You cannot protect Harry if you are dead."
"I know that, Remus," Aurora acknowledged, leaning down to run her fingers through dark curls, and sighing as she realized her companion did not appear at all convinced of the sincerity in her words, "I didn't—what I said—I didn't mean it. I'm just so—so—"
"Lonely?"
"You have no idea."
Falling into an almost companionable silence for the moment, Aurora found that she was reminded of the days before the war, and the few moments of peace that she and Remus were able to obtain before being forced to venture off to attempt thwarting whatever mischief James and Sirius had managed to concoct. Though she loved her brother dearly, there was something to be said for a quieter evening spent with a good book, or in hushed conversation every now and then. And perhaps it was that yearning for times long gone that had her feeling bold enough to repeat her earlier question once more, her tone softer—far more pleading—as she forced herself to meet her companion's gaze again before she spoke.
"Remus—stay. Just for the night, but—stay."
To say anything other than that she was relieved at Remus' answering nod, no matter how reluctant it may have been, would be a lie…
…
Well hello there, dear ones! And welcome to a brand new chapter in Aurora's tale! I confess, the ending in the present day kind of caught me off guard, as I had initially intended to continue on in the flashback that I started at the beginning of the chapter. But apparently the muses had other ideas, so I do hope that you do not mind the minor detour! I promise, the flashback will continue next time around!
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! Special thanks go out to last chapter's reviewer: JayBat, for leaving such kind words of support! I truly do appreciate the time everyone has already taken out of their busy lives to read this story and give it a chance! And as always, I cannot wait to hear what you think this time around!
Until next time, darlings…
MOMM