And so the days and weeks wore on. Monday morning, Aurora had managed to rope Gwen into partnering with her for Potions, and Robin switched to work with Leah MacMillan, who didn't look happy about it. Neville pointedly ignored her, but she didn't miss the glares from Hermione Granger, and Potter and Weasley. At least none of them said anything to her. Still she found herself wanting to scream at them from across the classroom.

Daphne, Millicent and Blaise were all rather frosty and she knew that she wouldn't solve that without fixing things with Draco and Pansy — she just didn't know how. Lucille didn't speak to her at all, and seemed to enjoy the change in dynamics. She couldn't shake her feeling that it was her fault, but neither of them would listen. The words I'm sorry were too difficult to say, but taking it in a roundabout way wasn't working. It was all too frustrating. Aurora had to pretend it didn't bother her, but it was so dreadfully difficult. Gwen and Robin were still fine company, but she missed her other friends something awful.

She didn't know quite what she was supposed to do. She decided to study instead, hide up in the library or else down in her dormitory room when Gwen and Robin were away. Everyone else seemed to pick up on it. She was certain everyone was talking about her behind her back — but then, she thought, maybe that was the issue? Was she just thinking too much, to the point that she was pushing her friends away, like Theodore had suggested?

Forgetting about it was easier than dealing with it. Hogwarts without her friends was lonely, but she found other ways to distract herself.

A day in mid-November, Aurora was continuing her work on the ring she had obtained from her family's vault last year. So far, all she had discerned was that it held some sort of memory — possibly multiple memories — within the shadowed stone. It had the ghosts of the past within it, likely of her ancestors, but she had little else to go on and the four silver snakes offered no help.

"We didn't help make it," Julius said, gemstone eye twinkling. "So we don't know and we don't care."

"You are very helpful."

Claudius hissed from around her neck. "We do not appreciate sarcasm, girl. Respect your ancestors."

She rolled her eyes. "I do, never fear. But this bothers me."

"Everything bothers you," muttered Lyra, silver key form wriggling slightly on the bed. "Young people of your generation are so—"

There was a loud crack and Kreacher landed upon the bed, stifling Lyra's next words. Aurora shrieked in surprise and leapt up, stuffing the ring in her pocket.

"Kreacher!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"Kreacher came, Mistress." He panted, hitting his head, and Aurora hurried to stop him.

Her heart was in her throat. "What happened? What is wrong?" She had asked Kreacher to give her regular reports on the Black estate, along with the upkeep of the houses, but he was due at the end of the month, not now, and he hadn't given her so much as a warning.

"A message arrived in the family home," He croaked. "It is addressed to the Lady of the House. It is from the Ministry."

The warmth drained from her face. Kreacher held out the thick envelope, his fingers trembling. "This is not one message," she said slowly, meeting his eyes. "Kreacher, what is this?"

"Ministry has been poking their noses in," he snarled. "Mistress always said the Ministry didn't know when to keep their noses out! But they've been sniffing about. Kreacher does not wants to worry Mistress, Kreacher spoke to Mistress Walburga's painting, but Kreacher — Kreacher knows he musts shows Mistress Aurora!"

With great trepidation, Aurora took the heavy envelope from Kreacher and sank down onto the edge of her bed. There was a low squealing sound and she grimaced. "Kreacher, could you shuffle over for me? You're sitting on an artefact."

He leapt off the bed as though it were hot coals. "Kreacher did not realise!" he gasped, bowing lowly. "Please, forgive, Mistress—"

"You're forgiven," Aurora told him, waving a hand. "Lyra's fine."

"An artefact?" Lyra cried, rather indignant for a fake snake. "Is that all I am! I am precious! I am the key to this family!"

"I know, Lyra, but that is rather a mouthful."

The snake shut up. Claudius hissed, as though amused. Aurora broke the seal on the back of the envelope and a whole bundle of letters floated out. She bent to snatch them all back up, glimpsing dates and numbers and signatures.

"Explain this to me, Kreacher," she said as kindly as she could considering she was nearly shaking.

"The Ministry..." Kreacher swallowed. "Ministry of Magic has been asking for informations about Master Sirius — the blood traitor scum."

She nodded, feeling cold. "Yes, I know who you mean."

"Kreacher tells them Kreacher does not know and his Mistress doesn't know, Kreacher knows Mistress would never consort with the likes of him." She nodded again with a lump in her throat. "But they keeps asking. Says they needs to manage the House of Black if Lady Black isn't there."

"They know perfectly well where I am," she snapped. "It's on all the records, are they truly so inefficient?" That, she thought, or they simply wanted an excuse for an investigation. To take over. As if. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kreacher."

"And there is letters from the goblins, Mistress." That chilled her. "They says they've been told to keep watch on the family vault, by the Ministry, because of the blood traitor but the goblins are smart, they dislike the Ministry either, they wants your permission. They sends a statement." He pointed one long, crooked finger to a thick bundle of parchment. "This has all the family accounts they says. Kreacher knows how to handle goblins but Kreacher knows this is Mistress' business, Kreacher hopes Mistress isn't angry—"

"I'm not angry," she said, clenching her fists. "Not at you anyway. These are all recent?"

Kreacher nodded. "The Gringotts letter came in last week, Mistress. The Ministry has sent many since Kreacher last speaks to Mistress, Kreacher had thought he should wait, but they is sending too much."

"The Ministry is bothering the Noble House of Black?" Julius hissed.

"Yes."

"Bah! The Noble House of Black does not bow to the Ministry. I say ignore them."

"Duel the Minister," Claudius suggested. "You must demonstrate power!"

"Unfortunately, I can't do that," she said, shaking her head. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kreacher. Would you mind staying while I read over the documents and letters?"

"Kreacher will do anything to serve the House of Black," he said, bowing low again.

"Good." She picked up the statements and letters from Gringotts. "We'll start with the accounts. I should have done this ages ago, really..." She grimaced. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Kreacher has helped with the accounts for years, Mistress. Kreacher knows hows they works. Mistress needs to read first."

Thankfully, as Aurora made notes on the parchment from her drawer while reading, nothing in the Gringotts statements seemed amiss. That was a relief — she had asked that they inform her if anyone came inquiring, but that everything appeared intact was good. Technically her father may have access to the Black family vault, as he was still a blood member of the family even if he had been disowned, but it seemed his hatred for his family ran deep enough that he wouldn't even scrounge off them. Aside from that, Aurora had her own personal vault which was, of course, all accounted for. Her father did also have his own vault, which she could not access, but was displayed with the rest of the family finances. Nothing had gone in or out in twelve years. The vault of Bellatrix Lestrange was also displayed — as she could not access it, but it had to be accounted for somewhere.

The Ministry was trickier to deal with. They wanted permission to conduct an investigation and search of all the family properties, which Aurora immediately wanted to deny on the grounds that they had no evidence of her father's presence there — indeed, all the evidence pointed to him hiding away in the highlands, removed from civilisation. It seemed to her that they did want to poke their noses in. While Aurora didn't have an exact catalogue of all the possessions and artefacts scattered around her family's estates, she knew there were many things the Ministry wouldn't approve of, but she had no intentions of letting them remove them. She knew that they would put up a fight though, and that denying permission might be taken badly. Her letter had to be written carefully, so as to avoid coming off as hostile. Once upon a time, her family would have held honorary seats within the Minister's Council and on the Wizengamot Legal Court, but those had been done away with decades ago when the Ministry had decided to modernise for a bit, and then contentedly return to its state of nonsense, so that all they had was their hereditary seat with the Legislating Assembly, though the assembly wasn't often called. That did not mean she didn't have power, though, she reminded herself — she just had to find a different way of using it. The Black name meant something. She just had to ensure that it still did for long enough until she was able to properly deal with things.

It took her and Kreacher quite some time to go over all the paperwork and letters, not least because of the interjections from the four silver snakes in the room, who all believed the Minister should be beheaded for forgetting the power of the House of Black. Aurora wasn't sure if they realised yet that this was the 1990s, and not the Middle Ages. She really could not do anything to execute Cornelius Fudge.

"Whenever anything comes from the Ministry or Gringotts," Aurora told Kreacher sternly, once they had organised everything into piles to keep for reference and piles to be sent away, "you bring it to me immediately. I will organise for the post to be delivered to me personally rather than to Black Manor — it seems rather sly on the part of the Ministry, I must say. But I would have expected you to ensure this communication with me regardless."

Kreacher seemed to wilt and Aurora winced as he hit himself on the head. "Kreacher is most sorry, Mistress. Kreacher never would seek to harm the House of Black, Kreacher knows he is a disgrace—"

"You're no disgrace, Kreacher," she sighed. "There's no need to punish yourself like that, it's done now. But just bear this in mind for the future. And have these—" she handed him the pile of half a dozen letters, all bound and with the Black family seal on the back "—owled to the correct addresses for me."

"Kreacher will, Mistress," he said, bowing low. "Thank you for your forgiveness, Mistress."

He disappeared with a pop and Aurora lay back on her bed with a loud groan. Her head hurt and she still had a stack of homework to do this evening. Plus, she realised when she checked her watch, she was late for dinner.

Cursing, she scooped up the spare snakes and placed them back in their drawer, bound together, along with the ring. Then, in the drawer below, she put away all the documents she needed to keep with her, and locked the drawer. She would have to find a permanent charm or hex to protect it, but for now a simple lock was suitable, as she doubted Gwendolyn would go snooping about in her drawer. Then, Aurora tucked the necklace she was wearing into her robes, flattened her hair down, checked her reflection in the mirror, and hurried out of her room.

When she arrived in the Great Hall, most of the Slytherins were already seated, and she felt her cheeks blaze as she searched for a seat. Draco had Pansy on one side, Goyle on the other, and Blaise, Theodore and Lucille across from him. He glanced up when she entered but didn't make room, and it stung. They hadn't made up properly, and hadn't exactly spoken much, but they still usually sat together. She usually sat with the others, too.

Aurora had to turn away, searching for another place, another familiar face. She caught Potter watching her from the Gryffindor table and wanted to scream until she lost her voice.

But she could not. She took in a deep breath, and went down the aisle until she found Gwendolyn sitting with Robin, Tracey Davis, and Clarissa Drought. The latter two appeared surprised by her arrival, and Gwendolyn uncomfortable, but surprisingly enough it was Robin who shifted over and made room for her. It spared her the embarrassment of asking and she smiled gratefully at him as she sat down.

"Chicken pie tonight, is it?" she asked briskly, trying to smile. "Excellent."

Davis and Drought stared as she ladled food onto her plate, but she did her best to look as unhostile as possible. Shoulders relaxed, leaning back slightly, faint smile instead of resting bitch face. And gradually, they just started talking. It was surprisingly easy to eat in this company, so long as she didn't look back along the table to where the others were all talking and laughing, completely at ease in each other's company — while she, in her own idiocy and irritation and awful nature and stubborn pride, had been shut out. Had shut herself out, maybe.

And by Merlin, did it feel shit.

-*

The atmosphere in the common room remained frosty at best. Aurora did not know how to thaw it. She did her homework in the draughty corners of the library instead, not speaking to anyone. It was lonely, certainly, but she was also certain that if she had to posture in the common room, had to put on a front, had to deal with Pansy's silent treatment, had to deal with Blaise's judgment and Lucille's haughtiness and Draco's steadfast anger, she would lose her mind.

She was making her way back to the dungeons after finishing a long and arduous essay about the origins of written letters in the Eastern Mediterranean, thinking bitterly over everything that had happened in the past month. Somehow, her Slytherin victory had an unexpected peak before a stupidly steep decline. She couldn't bring herself to apologise to Draco, even though she knew things wouldn't fix themselves. Without fixing things with Draco, she could not possibly fix things with Pansy. And, in truth, she was so, so tired of it all. She was sick to death of everyone in this castle. She was sick most of all of Potter, who had taken her stupid decision to help him as a personal insult. She should have left him to break his neck, she thought bitterly, glaring at the stones below her. The Gryffindor team could all rot as far as she was concerned — as could their housemates.

"Miss Black."

McGonagall's voice rang through the air after her and Aurora had to stifle a groan. Just who she didn't want to see — though in fairness, she didn't really want to see anyone.

She turned, put on a polite mask, seeing the grey-hairedwitch hurrying along the corridor after her. She looked agitated, and her lips were twisted in an unamused glower. "Yes, Professor?"

"I'm glad I found you. We have been searching the castle."

Her stomach plummeted. "Why? What happened?"

"Nothing — yet." McGonagall winced, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You are needed in the Headmaster's office. The Ministry is here."

Cold washed over her. "When you say the Ministry..."

"Minister Fudge, his senior Undersecretary, and the Head of the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement."

"And when you say I am needed..."

"Only for a word."

"Has there been a development regarding Sirius Black?" she asked, cutting to the question, since she sensed McGonagall didn't want to.

"No. That is precisely why you are needed. Professor Dumbledore has attempted to shield you from the investigation, but the Ministry has been in touch?"

"I replied," she said tightly, "they have no right to bother me at school when they have no evidence of my involvement in my father's escape."

"And you are correct," McGonagall said, tight-lipped. "Nevertheless, they have descended." Like vultures, Aurora thought bitterly. Damn them. "Your head of house is already in the office."

That would only make it worse for her. "Will you remain, too, Professor?" she had to ask, moving along the corridor with McGonagall. "Three representatives from the Ministry, three from Hogwarts?"

There was a moment of silence, penetrated by the squealing of some first year girls around the corner, before McGonagall said, "If that would be preferable for you, Miss Black."

A faint smile touched her lips in reply. "Thank you, Professor."

It was not long before they reached the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. Aurora had had few causes to be here in the past, none of them particularly cheerful — she was not sure where this ranked. Definitely near the bottom. McGonagall said, "Chocolate frog," and the gargoyle moved aside, revealing winding stone steps. Aurora could just imagine the Minister and his lackeys standing up there, great cats laying in wait for their prey.

She forced herself up the stairs. She had nothing to hide, after all — but the mere imposition was enough to unsettle her. She could not shake the feeling that something more might be amiss.

Dumbledore's office, though, was as she had last seen it. The man himself smiled at Aurora's entrance and held out a bowl of lemon drops to her, as if that would ease her. She declined politely, surveying the room, and was surprised to see more than one familiar face. Of course, she recognised Cornelius Fudge, but there beside him was a short, pink-clad woman she had met at the Parkinsons' gala during summer. She wrangled her brain, trying to think before she caught the name — Umbridge, forename Dolores.

"Minister," she said, with a polite but minimal incline of the head. "Senior Undersecretary." She glanced at the tall, greying woman beside them, trying to think, recollect a name.

"This is Madam Amelia Bones," Dumbledore said helpfully, as though sending her uncertainty.

"Naturally," Aurora said, inclining her head again. "A relative of Susan Bones?" Madam Bones nodded. "We're in the same year, I thought I recognised the name. Headmaster, might I lay my books and essay on your desk? I was just on my way back to the common room from the library, but I didn't want to keep the Minister waiting."

This seemed to endear Madam Bones to her somewhat, though Umbridge's eyes were beady and suspicious, and Fudge seemed more agitated than anything else. "Of course, Aurora. An interesting topic?"

"Ancient Runes," she supplied, putting the books down with care, and steadying her bound scroll of parchment on top. "The emergence of written letters in languages of the ancient Eastern Mediterranean. It's fascinating, but certainly challenging — though I suppose that is Professor Babbling's preferred method."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and, assured slightly, she turned back to the waiting group across the desk from her. She supposed she had better put her best foot forward. "How might I assist, Minister?"

"Sit down, Black," Snape said boredly, before anyone else could reply. Hiding a scowl, Aurora looked to Dumbledore, and as the others all sat around the desk, so did she. McGonagall conjured a chair too, and sat beside her.

"Professor Dumbledore was telling us of your academic record," Bones said. "You are a dedicated student?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I certainly do my best."

"And a Slytherin?" Umbridge inquired. She had a slightly nasal, slightly simpering voice which now she heard it, Aurora wasn't sure how she could ever forget.

"That's correct." It was rather obvious — from her badge to that fact that Snape was her Head of House — but she held her tongue. "Madam Undersecretary, I believe we have met before, have we not?" Umbridge's eyebrows rose. "The Parkinson family's summer gala?"

"Ah." Her smile was so obviously fake, but the reminder of Aurora's connections did seem to still some of the suspicion in her eyes. "Of course, I recall."

"You are close to the Parkinsons?" Fudge asked, scrutinising.

"Their eldest daughter, Pansy, is a good friend of mine. As is," she added, hoping he wouldn't be upset by her bringing his name into it, but knowing it would steady Fudge somewhat, "Draco Malfoy. I believe you are familiar with his father. Lucius Malfoy."

Fudge's smile was strained. "Quite."

"If we could get to the matter at hand," Madam Bones cut in crisply, with a disapproving smile. "Miss Black, the Ministry did not want to have to bother you at your place of education. However, the situation surrounding Sirius Black is of major concern to the public, and with little development, we must now enquiry of you whether you have any idea where he may be."

She said, clearly and honestly, "I do not."

"You have no idea whatsoever?"

"Last I heard was Dufftown, and I read that in the Daily Prophet. I assure you, I am no more informed than the rest of the public. My father and I have no ties to one another beside the unfortunate coincidence of my birth." She could have sworn Snape was amused by that. McGonagall shot him a look.

"Even so," said Fudge, leaning forward, "you understand, the Ministry cannot be seen to be doing nothing."

"I'm afraid I cannot help," she reiterated. "I have no idea where my father is or where he has gone."

"The Ministry asked for permission to search the Black estate," Bones put in. "You refused that permission. Why?"

"There was no reasonable evidence," she replied smoothly. "My father has not had access to the family estates for years, and I would rather not have my childhood memories intruded upon, especially when I cannot be physically present as a result of my education — which, as you know, is a requirement for such inspections even when there is evidence to warrant it. There are strong wards upon all our properties, my house elves are aware of the situation and monitoring it, and none have reported anything amiss. Likewise, I am in contact with the goblins at Gringotts, and not a knut has been removed from any of the vaults my father may have access to."

"You are certain of this?"

"Yes," she said tightly, "I can get ahold of the documents from Gringotts if you require proof — I have had no contact with him. I have offered him no assistance, nor has he sought any shelter, or any money from the family coffers."

Madam Bones pursed her lips. "If you are certain there is nothing that you know, Miss Black, I cannot force out of you any information you do not possess. But I am sure you are aware of the public mood."

"I am," Aurora said, recalling the article about her. "I am aware of what people think of me because of my father, Madam Bones. I assure you, I have nothing but contempt for him and his actions. I would not assist him even if he did ask."

"And your other family members?" Fudge asked, and she turned slowly to him, frowning. "You can think of no others in your family who may have extended their sympathies to Black?"

The question jolted her. "There are very few of us left," she said, hearing the strain in her own voice and struggling to keep it under control. She felt like a wire, stretched too far, about to snap. "None of us have any sympathy for him, Minister."

"Your father was not the only one of your family involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

She tensed, feeling like all the breath had been knocked from her, and said stiffly, "I am aware of that, Minister. However, if you are alluding to Bellatrix Lestrange, I trust that you do not intend to let her escape Azkaban prison, too?"

His cheeks flushed but Aurora couldn't take the words back. "Madam Lestrange was also not the only other family member involved," he reminded her. "Your father's own brother, Regulus Black, was said to have taken the Dark Mark."

"I doubt even my father is capable of receiving assistance from a dead man," she said flatly, though her chest flared in irritation. Was this simply an excuse to tear at her family history? To point out all that she tried to ignore?

"While Regulus Black has been presumed dead for a number of years," Fudge went on, "there was never a body discovered."

She raised her eyebrows. "Minister, this is beginning to feel rather far-fetched."

"If there is any possibility that Regulus Black is alive, having fled, it is highly likely that he would lend your father assistance."

"And how might he do that?" Aurora asked. Her voice came out snappish and she tried not to wince. Umbridge gave her a curious look. "I repeat, none of the family's funds or assets have been accessed. And my uncle has been dead for almost fourteen years. While leaving the service of the — of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Her words strained and she added, in a cool breath, "I appreciate that you want to do all that you can, Minister. If I knew anything I would tell you gladly but I do not. My family's history will not solve this case."

"Miss Black, you do not understand the seriousness of the situation."

"You do not understand that I do not know my father's whereabouts," she replied, frustration beginning to simmer over. "You do not understand that I do not wish to have every inch of my family's history scrutinised, when the history you are dredging up is from before I could even talk."

"There are stirrings, Miss Black," said Madam Bones, ignoring the sharp looks she received from Fudge and Umbridge. "Worrying whispers. We can not divulge the extent of these, but I implore you... Anything you know..."

"I will tell you," she said, voice clipped. It was time to impress upon them. "But I am afraid that, at present, there is nothing to tell. I am Lady Black, head of my house and family." She let the weight of those words sink in, ignoring the way they seemed to unsettle Dumbledore and McGonagall. She wasn't above pulling rank, even if there wasn't so much rank left to pull. "I do not appreciate the way this is being handled, but I understand your urgency. There is nothing more that I can say at this moment, though I wish I could help."

In those words was the underlying: do not make this worse. Do not mess with the House of Black.

And Fudge nodded. He swallowed, then stood. "If that is all then, Miss — Lady Black." She tried not to show her pleasure at the title. "The Ministry has much to attend to... Barty Crouch and his leave—" He cut himself off, glanced to Umbridge — whose eyes were stilled fixed, unsettling as beetles on her skin, on Aurora's face — and then back again. "Well. Thank you for your time. And you, Dumbledore. Snape. McGonagall."

The latter two gave curt nods, scarily similar, while Dumbledore offered Fudge a jovial smile. "Mind the step before the Floo," he said merrily. "It has caused many the inadvertent stumble over the years."

"Yes, yes." Fudge shot her one last nervous look, and then slipped into the Floo, calling for the Ministry. Umbridge did the same, after a too-sweet smile thrown Aurora's direction.

Only Madam Bones lingered. "I am sorry that we bothered you," she said. "There is no reason to believe your involvement — but you must know that the case is of great worry to everyone—"

"Of course," Aurora said as diplomatically as she could considering how her blood was boiling. "I would hope you find Sirius Black soon."

Bones' smile was tight. "Quite. Good day to you all. We may be in touch."

Then she too, stepped into the fire, and was gone.

Aurora turned to Dumbledore, no longer quite so bothered about hiding her anger. "Did you know they were coming?" she asked sharply.

"I only received word half an hour beforehand. Had I had advance notice, I would have been sure to give you time to get your head round things, Aurora." His eyes twinkled. "I trust you will forgive me if I do not refer to you as Lady Black."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring Snape's sneer. "Why did they think my family would help him?"

"I believe Cornelius is trying to find any theory he can cling to at the moment," Dumbledore told her quietly. "He is not the only one."

"I see." It made sense. But other elements of their conversation had unsettled her too. The mention of her uncle, Regulus Black... Stirrings and whispers. "Do you believe the Ministry capable of catching him?"

Dumbledore's eyes turned down. "I suppose," he said slowly, "that, like all things, remains to be seen."

She nodded. "If that is all, and you do not plan to interrogate me too, then I would like to return to my common room. I believe Marcus Flint has ordered a meeting of the Quidditch Team ahead of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff's match tomorrow."

"Very well," Dumbledore told her. As she picked up her books and her essay, she could feel his penetrating stare still on her. "Professor McGonagall will escort you."

McGonagall's face darkened at the prospect of embarking on a journey into the dungeons, but she did not protest. Their walk down was silent, mainly, until they got past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and McGonagall said, "Miss Black, I hope you understand that we all only want to help you."

She stared at her. "Help me how, exactly?"

"None of this can be easy for you," she said, almost tentatively. "I have noticed your recent isolation in my classes. Your grades have slipped only slightly, but I would not wish for further disruption." Aurora's breath caught. She hadn't noticed her grades being affected, but if they had, then she knew she had to repair that damage as soon as possible. "I believe you when you say that you do not know your father's whereabouts. I do not believe you when you act unaffected by this affair." She stared at the ground. "Professor Snape is not the most hospitable of teachers." McGonagall sighed. "But my door is open to all my students. If you have an enquiry about your work, or require a place to sit and study that is not the library, then do see me."

This felt absurd. She looked up at McGonagall. "Professor, I am completely fine."

Her eyes glimmered. "If that is your belief." They went down the stairs in silence. Aurora reached the common room door and turned.

"Thank you, Professor. I can go from here."

McGonagall's nod was curt, and she soon swept back up the staircase, out of sight and out of earshot as Aurora said the password to let herself in.

She had barely time to put her books down when Marcus Flint pounced on her.

"Where've you been, Black? I told you — we're having a team meeting. You can't just skive off, this is an important meeting. You're lucky we let a girl on this team, your homework can't be a distraction—"

"I was in Dumbledore's office," she snapped, glaring at Flint. Now she was back in her usual surroundings, the leash on her anger had loosened. "If you must know. I wasn't skiving off, I was dealing with something, and I'm sure I can work out the scores for myself tomorrow afternoon. Even if I am the only girl on this team." It was only after the words had left her that she realised the small crowd around them. Namely, the entire team plus half a dozen seventh years, and Pansy and Blaise sticking their heads up at the top. She didn't dare meet Draco's eyes. "Is there anything urgent I need to know?"

"Watch your tone, Black," Flint said lowly.

"Or what, Flint?" She held his gaze. When he said nothing more, she turned. "I will be at the stands with you all tomorrow. That I can promise. If you'll forgive me, I have some things to deal with."

She didn't look back over her shoulder.

She got halfway to her room when Pansy came to her side, scowling. "Yes?" Aurora asked brittly, then remembered she had invoked Pansy's family's name and probably ought to be a bit nicer. "Sorry." She winced.

Pansy clicked her tongue. "Were you really with Professor Dumbledore?" Aurora nodded. "Why?"

"Cornelius Fudge." Her lip curled. "He has been demanding audience with me."

"Because of your father?"

Obviously, she thought. "Yes. The Ministry is... understandably concerned, but I have assured them I have had no contact with him."

"Right." Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Draco was worried when you didn't show up for that meeting. He thought Potter might have gotten to you, or something."

"Well, clearly," Aurora said, "he thought wrong."

Pansy made a sound of annoyance. "Will you stop that!"

She turned sharply to her. "Stop what?"

"Getting all... Cold." Aurora raised her eyebrows. "I'm trying to tell you Draco's worried about you."

"Is he, now?"

"Obviously!" Pansy huffed. "Merlin, you are both being so — so stupid!"

"Excuse me?"

"You are!" Pansy's cheeks were going pink. "Honestly, you're both so stubborn. You're miserable, Draco's miserable, and I'm miserable being stuck in the middle of you both being miserable!"

Aurora felt heat rise to her cheeks. "You don't seem very in the middle," she muttered, and Pansy tutted.

"Well, all my attempts to mediate have ended with you trying to insult me." Her cheeks got even hotter now. "I'm not getting into an argument, Aurora. It just needed to be said — you both need to work this out. Draco knows this too. You're my two best friends." She pursed her lips, and Aurora saw her eyes shining. Guilt washed over her. "Just sort it out, for all our sakes."

And then she turned on her heel and strode down the corridor, leaving Aurora to stare after her, feeling worse than she already had.