(Little Whinging, 1988)
Aurora woke from a surprisingly restful sleep curled up on her sofa, her cheek nestled against the worn fabric of an unfamiliar sweater, while the gentle rise and fall of a warm chest moved beneath her skin. For a moment, she had forgotten the precise circumstances of the previous evening, her brow furrowing as she attempted to pull herself into a seated position, only to find that she was waylaid by the dead weight of an arm slung around her waist. It was then that she recalled exactly what had transpired to lead her here, the soft snores of her companion registering in her ears while a faint smile finally graced her lips. Though she knew she ought to play the part of the proper hostess, and find some means of extricating herself from her current position so that she could brew some tea and see about some manner of food for breakfast, Aurora was still half-tempted to remain precisely where she was, the comfort brought about by her old friend's presence far more calming than she thought she truly deserved.
After all, it felt like it had been so long since she felt as though she might stand a chance at feeling true peace, even if only for a moment or two, and she was very much reluctant to pull away from that chance, now, not knowing if it would ever return to her again.
With such a thought in mind, Aurora settled back against Remus' chest, steady rise and fall giving her leave to shut her eyes once more, and focus upon taking slow, even breaths of her own as a result. It would have been a lie to pretend that she had not already started to dread the eventuality of his departure, leaving her to her own devices once again whether she wanted to be alone or not. And although she knew very well that keeping Remus with her for any longer than he wanted to be was perhaps one of the more selfish things she could ever do, Aurora still found her mind turning to possible means of securing that precise end, her brow furrowing as she tried to reconcile apparent instinct with the guilt that came about as a result, until a slight shift of the frame beneath her cheek gave her reason to believe she was no longer the only person awake, after all.
"What are you thinking about?"
"How exactly do you know I'm thinking about anything at all, Remus?"
"Because I believe I have known you long enough to realize that a furrowed brow means something is on your mind," Remus supplied, his hand shifting from its position on her waist, to come to rest upon her shoulder instead to deliver a small squeeze, "What is it, Aurora?"
"I don't suppose I can deter you by changing the subject?"
"You cannot."
"Then I suppose I was simply thinking of how nice it's been to have someone here with me, and how much I will miss you when you're gone."
"If I stayed, it might raise questions."
"Would it be too terrible of me to say that I hardly care?" Aurora questioned, shifting just a bit so that she could look her companion in the eye, only to find that his expression had moved from merely curious to something else entirely in the short duration of time that she looked upon him, "I see no reason why a friend's arrival should provoke suspicion."
"Until the full moon."
"I was under the impression Severus had given you potions to remediate the worst of your symptoms."
"And yet they still take their toll," Remus informed, his expression turning remorseful as Aurora moved to sit completely upright, and he moved to do the same, "I would not risk harming you, or anyone else here, should something go wrong."
"You have never harmed me, Remus."
"There is always a first time."
"Would it make any difference if I said I doubted you?" Aurora inquired, hating the self-loathing that had become so apparent in her companion's expression, though she knew there was not a thing she could do to remedy it, on her own. No matter what any of their former comrades had tried, the man had always persisted in viewing his condition as the absolute worst stain of unworthiness. And in spite of how many times Aurora herself had tried to show him that he was still a worthy friend-a worthy man, he simply did not seem capable of believing such a thing for himself.
"You and I both know that it would not."
"How long will you stay, then?"
"Do you really wish to keep me here another night?"
"I would not ask if I did not."
"And I will never understand your steadfast belief that I am worthy of the effort," Remus quipped, tempering the potential bitterness in his words with a faint smile that did not quite reach his eyes, "We have one week, maybe more, until the next full moon."
"Then stay that long. Please, Remus. Stay," Aurora pleaded, aware of the fact that her request might have seemed desperate, particularly given that she had only requested his presence for the one day the evening before, and yet completely incapable of caring whether her friend believed her to be weak as a result. But in light of the smallest bits of comfort she had received since his arrival, Aurora would have been a liar to pretend that his nod, no matter how reluctant, gave her a great sense of relief, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she rose to stand, and stretched stiff muscles for only a moment before heading towards the kitchen to see about preparing breakfast.
"Where are you going, Aurora?" The man asked, curiosity once again in his tone, and one brow quirked in obvious anticipation of whatever the young woman's reply would be…
A reply that was not long in coming, the smile upon her face so genuine that for a moment, Remus thought he might have glimpsed a shadow of who she had been, before the war had torn them both to pieces.
"To make us breakfast, of course. If you're staying like I want you to, I won't have you thinking I expect you to do all the work yourself."
If Walburga Black had done nothing else, she had certainly seen to it that her only daughter knew how to make someone feel welcome in her home with almost as little effort as it took to draw breath.
…
"So, you have met him," Remus surmised, somehow gathering the nature of the truth in just one glance at where Aurora's gaze had turned, so that she could watch as a young boy with familiar dark black hair played alone on the front lawn just a few yards away. The sight seemed enough to render him motionless, a tightening in his chest the only concession to memory that he allowed himself, no matter how temptation might wish otherwise. In truth, he was far more grateful for Aurora's presence in the boy's life than he could put into words, the expression that graced her own features giving him every reason to believe that she would care for him as if he were her own, whether his own aunt and uncle did so as well, or not. But of course, before he could become too distracted by such musings, an answer to his earlier inquiry was reaching his ears, the way Aurora's voice seemed to crack minutely as she spoke giving him every reason to believe that she felt the very same pull of memory and regret as he did, himself.
"I have. He is so very much like them already, Remus, you really have no idea."
"And it is better, I fear, that it remains that way."
"Why?"
"I am more dangerous to that boy entering his life, than I am by leaving him as he is now."
"You don't know that," Aurora protested, once again doubting her sudden decision to venture to her front porch with Remus in tow not long after they had finished clearing the dishes from breakfast, as it seemed to have brought a return of the man's ever-present self-doubt no matter how fiercely she had hoped that it would not, "James and Lily loved you, Remus. They adored you, and they would have loved the idea of you looking after their son."
"I am not so certain."
"I am."
"You always were far too stubborn for your own good, Aurora," Remus informed, a mocking smile toying at his lips before it faded away, to be replaced by a sorrowful expression, instead, "Always refusing to hear a refusal if it was not the answer you wanted."
"You make it sound as though I am a petulant child."
"On the contrary. You are a far better friend than I deserve."
"Perhaps I could say the same of you," The young woman returned, finally averting her gaze from where Harry Potter remained playing on his own, and turning her hazel eyes towards Remus, instead, "I'm hardly harmless, myself."
"You said yourself, you have had no issue since you arrived."
"That does not mean that I won't."
"Have you spoken to Dumbledore of this?" Remus questioned, his words gentle, despite the obvious belief he so clearly held that doing so was in all likelihood the best course of action, "To anyone?"
"I haven't."
"Aurora…"
"I can't," The young woman whispered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she forced herself to keep looking Remus in the eye no matter how fiercely she wished to duck her head and return indoors, "I can't have him thinking I am incapable of doing even this simple task, Remus. I can't."
"An admission of a struggle is hardly the same thing as a confession of being incapable."
"Can you guarantee that Albus will see it in such a way?"
"In fact, I think that I can."
"Then you clearly are far more optimistic than I will ever be."
"Why is it you believe he will doubt you?" Remus pressed, reaching for Aurora's arm when she began to turn away, and holding on gently, though he could still feel the minute trembling that had taken over her frame, "Even the best of us need help, from time to time."
"Said by a man who has to be forced to accept help, himself."
"Perhaps we are more alike than I thought, then. A rather unfortunate fate for you, I'm afraid."
"Or maybe it is more unfortunate for you," Aurora countered, a sardonic smile toying at the edges of her mouth as she glanced down at his hand upon her arm, one brow lifting in silent question over precisely how long he intended to keep her stationary, "The very last thing that could be said of me at the moment is that I am a good role model for anyone to look up to."
"I refuse to think any comparison of the two of us that puts me in even the remotest light of comparison to you is an offense."
"Why? Why do you persist in seeing this fictitious good in me, Remus? It isn't there."
"I believe I persist in seeing it because you have done the same for me far more than I could ever count," Remus replied, aware of the fact that Aurora's mouth had opened, likely to dispute his claim, and lifting a hand to forestall her rebuttal so that he could press on, instead, "You and Lily both did so, Aurora, you can not deny that."
"Am I to take this as your way of telling me that you will not stop searching for that goodness, no matter what I have to say about it, myself?"
"I believe you would be wise to, yes."
"Then I suppose we should agree to disagree," Aurora concluded, exhaling softly as she turned towards where she had last seen Harry Potter at play, and frowning as she realized in the time since her attention had been diverted, he must have gone inside, "You are certain you do not wish to meet him?"
"I am," Remus confirmed, aware of the obvious concern that was so apparent in Aurora's expression, and yet forcing himself to continue on, regardless, "It is better for the boy. And perhaps, for me as well."
"Because of the memories it will bring?"
"Amongst other things."
Managing a nod by way of acknowledgement, and because she knew that if she spoke out loud, it would only be to deter her old friend from the censure he so clearly wished to place upon himself for things neither one of them could change, Aurora gently extricated herself from Remus' hold upon her arm for just long enough to grant herself the ability to thread her fingers through his own, instead, to give his hand a small squeeze. As easily as he seemed to have read her own thoughts, she could see his own so clearly now, laid out as they were before her without hesitation or restraint. And she knew full well what it was that he feared most about the prospect of meeting Harry Potter in the flesh…
It was the very same thing that haunted her, whenever she looked into those all too familiar green eyes of a friend long dead.
The boy may well be the spitting image of his father, but he truly did have his mother's eyes.
….
(24 December, 1978)
Finally in the solitude of her room, and in spite of not having the faintest clue of how Regulus had managed to get her there on his own, Aurora sat upon the crisp sheets of her canopied bed, clinging to her brother's hand as though her very life depended on it. He had remained silent after they had shut the door to her room behind them, choosing to settle her into a more comfortable pose rather than attempt to force her into idle conversation. But in the wake of her sudden decision to shift minutely, until her head had come to rest gently upon his shoulder, Aurora found that Regulus seemed capable of holding his silence no longer, his voice soft, but no less imploring as he squeezed her hand tightly in his own before he spoke.
"Does he know?"
"I don't-I don't think so," Aurora murmured, swallowing past the apprehension she felt over the thought of her intended discovering her secret, and the consequences it would invoke as a result, "He went to get you readily enough."
"I am not talking about Evan Rosier," Regulus spat, his distaste for the man his sister was to marry apparent in his tone, despite the fact that he knew, on some level, that speaking so harshly might only succeed in frightening Aurora even more than she already was, "I can't for the life of me fathom what Mother was thinking, forcing you into a match with him."
"She wants me to further the prospects of the family. My duty, she calls it, to be his perfect little wife, so that she can take the credit for my disposition."
"Seems to me it's more like selling you to the highest bidder."
"The thought had crossed my mind as well," Aurora confessed, her voice still holding a certain tremor, though she was pleased to note that her brother's steadfast presence at her side appeared to be keeping most of that at bay, "But if-if you aren't talking about him, Reg, who-who are you talking about?"
"I think you already know," Regulus said, aware of how Aurora seemed to tense at the suggestion inherent in his words, though she did not move to immediately deny the truth of them, herself, "You really are terrible at keeping secrets, Ro."
"I thought you did not like him."
"That doesn't mean I can't see he's still better for you than the man who is most likely flattering our mother downstairs in hopes that she will give him permission to check on you himself before he and his family depart."
"Do you really think that she will?"
"Answer my question honestly, and maybe I'll see that she doesn't."
Recognizing the offer for what it was, Aurora pursed her lips for a moment, her gaze searching her brother's expression for any sign of duplicity or ill intent. She wanted to trust him of course, every bit as much as she always had for as long as she could remember. But even in spite of that longing, something seemed to hold her back, cautioning her against disclosing too much, out of fear that it may be used against her, even if the person he told was not her mother, at all.
Aurora would have been a fool to pretend she was not comforted by her brother's seeming devotion to her as far as it had pertained to this holiday, but that did not mean she remained blind to where his loyalties had shifted to, whether she could comprehend such a decision or not.
She wanted to trust that Regulus would not betray her, but a lingering voice at the back of her mind still seemed determined to urge caution, regardless.
As though he seemed to sense her misgivings, Regulus opted for squeezing Aurora's hand once more, and caused her gaze to lock with his own once more in response. For a moment, the two of them simply remained silent, each gauging the other as though waiting for whatever tenuous truce had sprung up between them to fade away. And when it did not, Aurora determined that she might risk granting her brother the liberty of knowing he was right in his suspicions, a sigh escaping before she summoned the wherewithal to reply.
"He doesn't know. Not yet."
"And do you plan to tell him?"
"What would I say?" Aurora demanded, pulling back just a bit and withdrawing her hand from her brother's in favor of using that hand to tuck a stray curl back behind her ear, "That I'm-that I'm broken, somehow, and there's no way we can think of to fix it? That I-that I'm a monster?"
"You are not a monster."
"Tell that to our mother."
"You need to tell him, Ro," Regulus pressed, once again stubbornly bringing the subject of conversation back to the topic his sister seemed to wish most to avoid, "You need people to help you, when-when I can't."
"Meaning I need people to help when you are too busy doing the Dark Lord's bidding?"
"That's not fair."
"I know," The young woman agreed, hating herself for having even said the words at all, though she could not deny that the fear that they were true still held sway in her heart, "But I-I can't do this without you, Reg. And I-the idea of you? With him? It terrifies me."
"Just as the idea of you on your own with this terrifies me."
"But if I tell him-if I tell Barty, he will never see me in the same way again."
"And think of what will happen if you tell him nothing, and he hears from someone else," Regulus began, watching as his sister's expression tensed, the fear she felt at the prospect of what he suggested glinting in her dark eyes no matter how fiercely she tried to keep such a thing to herself, "I promise you, he will feel far worse if he discovers you kept this from him."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because no matter how little I may truly know Barty Crouch Jr, I do know that you may just be the only person in this world that he has any sort of genuine feeling for at all."
Biting her lower lip, and considering her brother's words as carefully as she could, Aurora soon discovered that she could find not even the slightest hints of deceit therein. Regulus was not attempting to simply appease her with words he did not truly mean. Not this time, anyway. And although she was still more than a little reluctant to dare to believe him completely, no matter how she might hate herself for that distrust in its truest sense, the young woman did as best she could to manage a simple nod, her resolve to be fully forthcoming with the man she really wished she could give her heart to suddenly strengthening, whether by her brother's will or her own, she could not tell.
At the very least she owed it to Barty to tell him of her engagement, and if the truth about all the rest came about in the meantime, then so be it.
If he truly loved her as much as he claimed, perhaps it would not matter at all.
…
Hello there, my angels! And welcome, finally, to a brand new update in Aurora's tale! Once again, I offer my sincerest apologies for the delay, particularly as it was never my intent to let the wait stretch on this long between updates! But, whether or not my intentions were successful, I do truly hope that this chapter, as it stands, was at least somewhat enjoyable...as I always say, the journey does not end here! I have so many more plans ambling around in my head as far as Aurora's past, and her future, and I can only hope that all of you are still along for the ride!
As usual, 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, of course, go to last chapter's reviewers: Ghostwriter71 and evasamui14 for leaving such wonderful words of support the last time around! I appreciate all of the encouragement more than any of you know, and as always I cannot wait to hear your thoughts of this chapter, as well! Hopefully it proved to be a fun read?
Until next time, my darlings…
MOMM