Aurora had a wretched sleep that night. Her dreams were of bright lights and high cackles, and when she woke there was a cold wrapped around her despite the summer weather, reminding her eerily of the Dementors. Her morning mood was not helped at all by the owl pecking mercilessly at her bedroom window, and she had to resist the urge to throw a slipper across the room as she got out to answer. The owl glared at her as she took the parchment envelope from its leg, and then hooted loudly before flying away.

"Rude," she muttered, tearing the envelope open. Inside was a pale green and white card, inviting her to the Parkinson family's summer gala on Saturday afternoon.

She grinned — the invitation had been expected but not guaranteed, and she was excited to get to see Pansy and the rest of their friends again. She wrote back in her best handwriting and parchment, one letter directly to Pansy, and another thanking Rosebelle for her gracious invitation and confirming her attendance officially. Then she hurried downstairs, to see her father and Potter were already sitting together, laughing. The sight made an unwanted sort of envy writhe bitterly in her chest.

"Ah," her father said, when he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. "Rory, I was getting worried. I thought I'd have to send Tippy up."

"I only had to send a letter off," she told him stiffly, determined not to look at Potter. "I'm going to Pansy Parkinson's on Saturday, for her family's Summer gala. The invitation came through just now."

Potter glanced up from the bacon and eggs he was devouring. "Gala?" he asked through a full mouth of food.

Aurora wrinkled her nose in disgust and gave him a pointed look. "Pansy's family hosts a gala every year. I wasn't anticipating an invitation this time, but it seems people are curious, and it will be good for connecting with society in light of the trial."

He just stared at her. "What, and you can't just connect with society in Diagon Alley or something?"

She couldn't help but burst out laughing at the absurdity. "Aurora doesn't mean society in the sense you're thinking of," her father said, with a quelling look. "She means high society." Potter frowned, like he didn't understand.

"The old families," she said. "Like mine. A lot of purebloods, but also families that have just been well-established, well-connected, or just plain wealthy. Of course, I also get an invitation as a friend of Pansy's, but there are important people there. The Minister's Senior Undersecretary was there last year, but I don't think she liked me — not that I'm a fan of hers either."

"I left before my mother and father could force me into society properly," her father said, and she could tell he was keeping his thoughts on the subject contained for her sake. "It's an awful lot of posturing and greeting people and dancing. I could never be bothered with that."

Aurora rolled her eyes, and ate a mouthful of scrambled eggs before replying, "That doesn't diminish its importance to me. As Lady Black, I have to represent us, now more than ever. And a lot of my friends will be there, so it's more tolerable." She glanced at her father. "I still can't be doing with courtship."

"Quite right," he said quickly. "Absolutely no courtship. You're too young."

"Not by anyone else's standards, but thank you."

"Wait," Potter said, eyes flicking between them, "Lady Black? You said that to Uncle Vernon." Aurora nodded, frowning.

"I did."

"That's your real title?"

"Yes, obviously, Potter, I didn't just make it up."

His cheeks went red and her father gave Aurora a warning look which she ignored. It wasn't her fault if Potter asked stupid questions.

"Well, yeah, but — you said something as well when you came to see me about the Potter family, and if it was a noble house." He took a deep breath and Aurora got the sudden impression that he had been thinking over the matter for some time, considering how to address and approach it. "What does it all mean?" His eyes darted to her father. "And how come you're not Lord Black? Or is it — you're not, like, a duke or something, are you?"

Aurora tutted. Her father's voice was strained as he answered, "I was disowned, Harry. But my brother didn't have any children, nor did our aunt Lucretia, and as my mother raised Aurora—" he still sounded disgusted by the thought, and that annoyed her "—she was reinstated. The Noble House of Black couldn't just die out." He said the name in a sneering tone that made Aurora bristle defensively.

"Well, it couldn't," she told him. "If it had, everything would have gone to Narcissa and then Draco, or else Bellatrix, so I hope you don't think that's a better option."

She was glad when her father didn't try to argue. She didn't want to have this conversation around Potter, but there was something about it that bothered her. She turned, frowning at him.

"I don't quite know how the inheritance laws apply to the Potter family — I imagine the seat and house would pass to you, and I'm sure there was a Potter in the Assembly at some point, and I'm sure it was inherited. Some other families have strange laws, like anyone in the family can inherit but have to fight for the title, or that only men can inherit, but I don't suppose anyone else has claimed the title"

Potter stared at her. "There aren't any Potters left, though. Apart from me." He looked to Sirius. "Are there? Cause no one ever told me any of this, not even Dumbledore or Hagrid!"

Her father blinked in surprise. Aurora had not mentioned the brief discussion she and Potter had had about it last month — she hadn't thought it a priority, and in truth didn't want to give them something so easy to bond over and discuss. "I'm sorry," her father said, "I should have said something before. I just reckoned you didn't care about it, Harry. Your dad was never fussed about titles, though I suppose, in the circumstances..." He coughed. "It doesn't really mean anything."

Still, he looked equal parts horrified and confused by the revelation. "You did know your parents were wealthy?" Aurora asked slowly, sending that she was treading on somewhat volatile ground.

"Yeah, but — I don't know, I just figured..."

"Most of the family's later wealth did come from Sleakeazy's," her father put in. "But you must know there's Potter Manor."

From the look on his face, Potter did not. Aurora imagined what it must be like to truly not know any of one's family history — she did not like the thought, and it didn't sit right in her mind. "So when you said you didn't know anything... You really didn't know anything."

The enormity of it seemed to wash over her. She in no way wanted Potter to be a part of her world, and certainly would not be the one to introduce him to it or associate with him — but the absence of knowledge about one's past was something that spoke to her no matter how much she hated to hold anything in common with Harry Potter.

"I know there's quite a bit of money in the vault, but... Even Gringotts didn't say anything!"

"Again," Aurora said, "they likely assumed you had been told. You should have been told — I can't think why Dumbledore would keep it from you."

Potter frowned too, seeming greatly discomfited by it. "This is ridiculous," Aurora decided, when he did not speak. Father, you will have to teach him."

"Me?" Her father raised his eyebrows. "You're the one that's out in society, Rory."

"Don't call me Rory — and I'm not teaching him."

"Why not?" her father asked, and for once she and Potter were both united as they stared at him. It was obvious why not.

"I have homework," she said primly, "and this isn't what we said we would do today anyway, is it?" She shot him a pointed look and his eyes lit at the reminder. Pleased to have the matter quelled, Aurora tucked into her breakfast, thinking of her friends. With Potter here, she missed them even more — Pansy's quiet snark, Draco's haughty grins, Theo's quiet support and Gwen's distracting gossip.

"I was thinking I might ask Draco and Pansy over at some point, actually," she said suddenly, not quite daring to look up as she asked. She knew it was controversial, and her father tensed as expected, surprised — but Potter had had his friends over, and it was unfair, she thought, of him to pull such a disgusted face. Even if he didn't like her friends, he could at least be polite.

"Right," her father said, and even he sounded disgruntled by the idea.

She gritted her teeth. "They're my friends," she started defensively, "I can invite them if I want, can't I?"

But her father's eyes flickered to Potter — as if he was the important one, the one whose decisions he wanted to take into account. The action infuriated her.

"Well?" she snapped. "Can't I?"

Potter snorted. "I'm not having Malfoy over."

"Then you can leave," Aurora retaliated.

"Aurora," her father scolded.

"Well, it's my house! Potter had his friends over!"

"Don't know if you remember, Black, but Ron and Hermione helped save your dad's soul, and yours!"

"And I respect that, and I'm grateful, but that doesn't mean I have to like them over my own best friends."

Potter snorted. "Please, Malfoy's a bullying git and you know it."

The words caused an anger to surge within her. "Don't speak about him like that."

"It's true!" Potter said indignantly. "He's the reason Buckbeak almost got executed, first of all, and he's horrible! I'm not talking to him!"

"Then don't! You can go somewhere else or sit in your room or something, but don't tell me what I can and can't do, or who to be friends with."

"I'm not," Potter scoffed, "I'm just saying, I'm not talking to Malfoy, and I think he's a git."

"I don't care what you think, Potter, but don't voice it so rudely in my own house."

"Yeah," he said, glaring, "'cause you're the same as him."

"Excuse me? What exactly are you trying to—"

"Maybe we should circle back to this later," her father tried in vain.

"Well, you're vain like him, you're rude like him, you're arrogant like him—"

"Harry, don't—"

"Says Harry Potter!" Aurora snapped, cutting her father off before he could interrupt them.

"I'm not arrogant!"

"You were so convinced of your Quidditch talents you tried to call for a rematch when I clearly bested you!"

"You did not, it was totally unfair, and you were only playing cause Malfoy's a little coward and he wanted to get Hagrid in more trouble for his arm—"

"Draco was seriously injured and—"

"He was not!"

"Can we please break this up, you two—"

"And if were talking about unfair, how about McGonagall buying you a broom when first years aren't allowed them, and putting you on the team without any trial after you broke the rules and attacked Draco—"

"I didn't attack him, I was trying to get Neville's Remembrall back—"

"Oh, please, you were trying to show off and show him up, I had half a mind to—"

"He was being awful and I know you knew it too, you told him to stop! You just don't care about anyone else!"

"Just because I don't particularly care about you!"

"Well, you've made that perfectly clear!"

"Good! Now shut up and piss off!"

"Aurora!"

She pursed her lips and tore her gaze away from Potter's to glare at the table. He muttered under his breath.

"Like I was saying," she went on, "I wanted to invite my friends to visit me. Though clearly, they're not welcome, and dear golden boy Potter must have the final say on all friendships."

"I never said that," her father told her gently, ignoring Potter's protests. "I can't say I'm sure of them, but I don't know them. They're your best friends and if you want to see them, you can."

Potter pulled a face, and muttered, "Still gits, though."

"So are you," Aurora snapped, "yet you still keep hanging around."

He scoffed but said no more, and Aurora resolved to ask her friends at the gala. With any luck, Potter would be gone by the time they arranged to meet anyway. Good riddance, she thought with a scowl.

She turned to her father, hopeful to change the subject, for the room suddenly felt very warm, and she felt entirely on the wrong side of things. "You said you had music to show me?"

His eyes lit up at the reminder. Aurora let him ramble about Muggle record players and something called Eurovision and how Marlene had taken him to his first concert, while she ate breakfast and seethed at Potter's words. Vain, she could perhaps grudgingly accept if Potter wasn't messing up his hair all the time, if he wasn't constantly demanding to be the centre of attention. Arrogant, she didn't feel was true and at any rate, Potter was far worse than she could ever be. As for rude, he had never learned any manners in his life, and she at least didn't have her elbows sitting up on the table.

No, she thought, Potter was wrong about absolutely everything. She tried not to think of what he said about Draco. She didn't want to have to concede anything to him, and she didn't want to think anything bad about her cousin, not when she had already experienced what it was like to grow distant from him and miss him so terribly. He had his faults, but she was not going to let Potter voice them, or influence her feelings about her cousin. She had to have faith that Draco was a good person, because she was terrified of any wedge that might push them apart — she had experienced it far too often already.

So she tried to focus on her father instead, ignoring Potter's presence as much as possible for her own sanity. Some of what her father was saying, she could follow along with, since Gwen had explained Muggle means of recording music, and told Aurora about some of the bands and singers she liked, but she didn't know any of the old bands her father was name-dropping. Potter nodded along as if he did, which aggravated her — but this had been her suggestion for today's activity and she was determined to show her appreciation for it. She was determined, too, to enjoy it far more than Potter would.

The three of them went from the parlour around to the music room at the back of the house. It seemed her father had remembered his promise perfectly well — there was already a square black box set up and open next to the pianoforte, looking similar to a gramophone inside. Aurora had never been brilliant at the piano. As a child, she was merely frustrated that it didn't sound right, and had seen no need to continue it, much preferring to dance to music than to play. This piano looked forlorn and abandoned, as she supposed most of the furnishings of the family properties were. It caused a strange sweep of sadness over her, to see the neglect.

Already, though, a stack of vinyl records sat next to the record player.

"You'll have heard of a few of these, Harry," her father was saying, to Aurora's annoyance. "Queen, ABBA, Rolling Stones... AC/DC..."

"I don't think Uncle Vernon really likes that sort of music," Potter said, with a twitch of the lips like he thought there was nothing more hilarious than his uncle listening to some stone band. "He'd say it's for delinquents."

"What?" Aurora said in fake astonishment, just to annoy him. "Not the Falling Pebbles." Gwen always sighed when Aurora and Robin got the name of some Muggle thing wrong, and it seemed Potter was annoyed by it too. "They sound like a very respectable band."

Her father just laughed. "Doesn't have quite the same rock and roll ring to it, though, does it? Now, Aurora — you didn't take Muggle Studies, did you?"

She stared at him. A Slytherin, a pureblood, take Muggle Studies? Even if she had wanted to, she would have been mocked for the whole year. It simply wasn't the done thing. "I did not," she said flatly. "But that does remind me of a gramophone, and Gwen tells me lots of interesting facts about Muggles. That's a record player." She felt rather proud of herself for knowing it, but annoyance flared when Potter scoffed and rolled his eyes at her. "What?"

"Everyone knows what a record player is."

"Maybe in the Muggle world, Potter," she said, glaring, "but I happen to be learning."

"It's literally just a record player. It's not that interesting. People have CDs now."

"Well, that sounds disgusting," Aurora snapped, wrinkling her nose. "Forgive me for taking an interest. If you think it's so boring, then leave."

"Well, actually, I was—"

"Right," her father interrupted sharply, "let's get on with it then. Im glad you know what a record player is, 'cause at your age, I didn't have a clue." Aurora shot Potter a smug look. "But, you still don't know what rock and roll is, which honestly, is a tragedy."

"It sounds rather dangerous."

"Think the Weird Sisters, but just... more of everything."

Aurora wrinkled her nose. She had never been a massive fan of the Weird Sisters, though Dora loved them. "Got a favourite, Harry?" her father asked, but Aurora cut in before he could reply.

"I want to hear one of your favourites," she told him. "Something... Fun, I don't know."

Her father screwed up his face, thinking, and then broke into a smirk. "I have the perfect song, as a matter of fact."

He sifted through the bright square covers until he found the correct one, with four men standing on the front, and grinned. "Harry, you'll definitely know this. It's a lot, but it's iconic."

There was a faint sort of crackling noise as he lifted the needle of the record player and placed the record carefully on the turntable. Magic flickered and then settled around them. The music started softly, which Aurora had not expected, and Potter was frowning like he was looking at a particularly tricky Transfiguration formula. Then came the words, high, "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?" and Aurora stared at her father.

She liked the start, swaying slightly at the music, until it started to speed up and suddenly turned into a clash of drums and guitar. The singing turned to what she really thought was more accurately described as shouting, and most certainly reminded her of the Weird Sisters.

Though to her annoyance, Potter seemed to think it was just as brilliant as her father did, and the two of them started singing parts and grinning, sharing the moment which she felt hideously detached from. She wondered, as the music slowed again, how Potter would hold up spending a day listening to Tchaikovsky or Prokofiev. Perhaps there were records of ballet music — if not, she knew there were certain charms for pianos and orchestras for the more popular suites.

"Well?" her father asked when the song ended, and Aurora pursed her lips, crossing her ankles.

"It's very long. And strange."

His jaw dropped open. "It's Queen!"

She blinked. "The Queen wasn't in that!"

"Not the Queen — the band's name is Queen! Don't you think they're brilliant!"

She shrugged, avoiding Potter's gaping look. "There are some nice bits, and I suppose that operatic part was good technically, it was just strange. And I don't like the loud parts."

Potter coughed and she was sure he muttered an insult under his breath. Her father frowned at him for a moment before turning back to Aurora.

"Alright." He did look faintly disappointed, but Aurora felt there was no point in lying. He switched out that record for another. "How about some ABBA?"

Potter shot her a look again. She hated him looking at her like that, like he knew something and was holding it over her. "She's not going to like ABBA."

"She," Aurora said sharply, "has a name, Potter. And how would you know what I will or will not like?"

"Potter has a forename."

"Is that an invitation, Harry?"

"Not for—"

"ABBA!" her father interrupted loudly, clapping his hands together. "Everybody loves ABBA."

"I won't, apparently," Aurora said breezily. "As Potter knows my music tastes so well."

He grumbled something Aurora couldn't hear, and which she ignored anyway. There came again that faint crackle before the music blared into life, a high pitch ringing out, "Super trouper, beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue..."

She started tapping her foot again. This music was much nicer, it felt brighter. It was something she would dance to, if she felt at all inclined to dance when Potter was right there, staring at her like he was trying to decipher something. She quelled her smile.

"...Feeling like a number one..."

"This one is much better," she told her father, who was humming along under his breath, missing parts out and frowning every time he did so, which was rather often. And if she did feel more strongly about it precisely to spite Potter, well, it was hardly the worst thing she'd ever done.

After that, her father put on another ABBA record called 'Voulez-Vous' which brought a smile to Aurora's lips as she tapped her foot and wriggled her hands, feeling the music in her fingertips. She wasn't going to dance, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it.

The morning wasn't even so awful. She did avoid talking to Potter, but the music was a distraction enough, and she found she didn't mind when her father finally cajoled her into spinning under his arm to another Queen song called 'We Are The Champions'. His movements were clumsy and she was sure he couldn't have had any dance lessons since he was around her age, but it still made her smile, no matter how much she tried to conceal that fact.

She got the afternoon to herself, but just as she made to head into the library — she hadn't nearly explored it enough, she felt, and was certain Potter wouldn't hang around a library to bother her — her father drew her aside and wrapped her into a tight hug. "What's this for?" she asked awkwardly.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I hadn't listened to that music since..."

He didn't need to finish. "Right."

"I'll admit I didn't have my money on you preferring ABBA."

She shrugged awkwardly in his grasp. "It's better than that ABC or whatever it's called."

He gave a low chuckle as he let go of her. "You can stay through here if you like, even if you want to study. Harry's bringing his homework down."

"I've seen him interact with Hermione Granger," Aurora said bluntly, "she is always helping him and Weasley with their homework and I have no interest in doing the same."

His face fell into something of a frown. "Well, alright, though I'm sure he doesn't."

Aurora gave a tight-lipped smile and didn't respond as she snuck away to the library. Part of her wished to stay with her father, enjoy quiet companionship, but she couldn't do that with Potter around.

It simply wouldn't work, she told herself, even as a bitter jealousy twisted at how easily he seemed to slot into her father's life, while she was uncertain, hesitant, disagreeable even when she wanted to make an effort.

Libraries, at least, were familiar. This one was old, full of books which only Kreacher knew how to take care of and preserve properly, and even then, she thought there must be some that had been damaged over the years. Some would be ancient tomes, though of course the most valuable had the strongest protections upon them. The library wound its way like a forest, shelves like pillars or ghostly trees, constantly moving, responding to her magic. Whatever she wanted to read, it would bring a selection to her.

Currently, what she wanted to read was an Arthurian tale, and as such she had five deposited right in front of her, along with a customary genealogy book which the family libraries just liked to thrust on people in general, as a nice little reminder. She took it, because the library was grumpy and if she didn't then it would follow her wherever she went in the library and likely fall on her head when she was least expecting it. The libraries at Grimmauld Place and Black Manor both did the same, and Aurora was naturally wary.

One thing the library had which forests generally did not, was a windowseat, and it was there that Aurora curled up with books around her, ready to sink into anything that wasn't her current life.

Late that night, after dinner and supper and really past the time Aurora had intended to go to bed, she heard music drifting up from the music room. Curious, she went to investigate — it wasn't any of the songs she had heard that day, though it did sound like Queen. The door was open just a crack, and she peered around, trying not to shiver with her bare feet on the wooden flooring — she would have to see about heating charms.

Her father sat on the piano stool with a drink in hand, staring into space. His face seemed oddly gaunt and pale in the halflight, as the music played on.

"Love of my life, can't you see? Bring it back, bring it back..."

Even from here, she could see the slight movement as he whispered the words under his breath. He looked frail in a way she hadn't really seen in months. He was staring at something that was not there. A phantom that had not been present in many years.

In her heart, Aurora felt this was something she couldn't intrude on. Slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb her father, she backed away and crept up the stairs to her own chambers, recalling the melancholy lyrics. Two minutes later, the song played on again, over and over, until she drifted asleep, wondering at the significance of the song and if there was ever anything she could say about it.

-*

Aurora did not mention that night to her father, but she did observe the heavy bags beneath his eyes, and the stiffer, tenser way in which he held himself over the next few days. Once, she caught him humming the faint melody of that song, but he stopped if ever he caught sight of her and smiled in a way that was painfully fake.

She didn't know how to inquire further. Potter seemed to grasp that something was up, but he certainly didn't mention it in front of Aurora — not that that was surprising. Often, she found herself choosing to go for a flight outside rather than to deal with the suddenly strained atmosphere inside.

Flying was still the best feeling in the world, even if Aurora had to keep beneath the tops of the trees so as to avoid being caught by any of the nearby Muggles. The wards were strong and should hold fine, but she didn't want to risk a Statute of Secrecy infringement in the current climate.

The sunlight warmed her skin as she flew, breeze drawing hair from its low bun. Strands hung about her face but she flew despite them, in love with the way her heart pounded in the rush.

She had not expected her time to be interrupted by Potter hollering over to her.

"Bloody Potter," she muttered to herself as she turned sharply in the air, seeing him careening towards her on his Firebolt. "What are you doing?"

"Sirius said I should join you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did he now?"

"Yeah." His cheeks were flushed pink. "We, uh — we can just stay out of each other's way, but I thought I should let on that I was up here in case you crash into me or something."

Aurora sneered. "I'm sure I would not be the one crashing, Potter."

The smile that flickered on his face was a competitive one which riled her up. "Fine then."

Then with a challenging grin, he swooped down into a sharp dive. It was obvious what her father was up to, trying to get them to talk to each other, actually acknowledge each other. In fact, it was painfully obvious — and it also wasn't going to happen.

Gritting her teeth, Aurora whirled around and soared in the opposite direction to Potter. It was just very frustrating that they would have to keep passing by one another, but she was not going to be behind Potter as they flew — it would be too much like a race, and while she had every confidence in her agility, the idiot had a Firebolt and it just wasn't fair. That was what she told herself anyway — she was not going to test such a theory right now.

It occurred to her as she flew that Potter could easily be trying to figure out more of her flying style ahead of the next season. They likely wouldn't be playing directly against one another, if she did get promoted to Chaser, but she was careful to hold back on any particular tricks anyway. And naturally, she kept note when he showed off. He was, to her anger, quite a good flyer to observe. His form had flair if not precision, and from her vantage and a new perspective, she admitted to herself that he was good at what he did. He was natural in the air, in a way few people were.

Not that she would ever admit such a thing aloud.

Still, his technique didn't seem to emulate any of the typical moves. It was not unpractised, but it was unrehearsed. He did what felt natural to him, perhaps. It was an odd technique — but it had proven to work for him time and time again.

"What are you staring at, Black?" he called up at her.

Aurora yelled down, "Wondering how you've ever managed to win a match flying like that, Potter!"

The Firebolt was quick, and he was beside her too soon. "Like what?"

He almost seemed to be amused. Aurora bent lower over her broom, meeting his eyes carefully. "An uncoordinated mess."

His eyes flashed with annoyance and now it was Aurora's turn to give a satisfied smile. Mentally, she started a points tally. How much could they annoy one another before someone threw in the towel and decided they would rather risk crashing into the ground?

"Bet you couldn't beat me in a race, though."

"Flying ability isn't about speed only," she said, rolling back her shoulders.

"So you agree." His eyes sparked. "You don't think you could beat me in a race."

"That is not what I said." Aurora gritted her teeth. "I could easily beat you, were it not for that obnoxiously fast broom. I'm surprised you can even keep yourself seated on that thing."

Potter smirked. "Race you to the edge of that stream."

She didn't wait for him to say go before she took off. Bloody Potter on his stupid Firebolt — but she was not going to back down from his challenge, not ever. Her robes fluttered as she flew, leaning forward and pressed tightly to her broom, curled around it. But Potter was close on her tail even with the unexpected headstart, and he was gaining on her faster than her broom would have been able to gain on him.

Determined, Aurora swerved slightly to the left, surprising him just enough that he paused, drawing up, and then she plunged into a dive down towards the grass at the banking of the stream. The momentary distraction was enough for a little while, but even as the end careened into sight, she felt him rush beside her, hurrying down towards the ground, and he pulled ahead even as she pushed forward.

He beat her by half a second, but it was infuriating all the same. Especially when he grinned at her, knowing he'd won.

"Told you, Black."

"I thought you were calling me Aurora now," she said with a sneer, stepping off her broom. "And you wouldn't win if you were on a Nimbus 2001 like me. Professional racing has rules like that."

"I said I'd beat you and I did." He looked far too pleased with himself. "Unless you want a rematch?"

She scowled. "No. I know something I will beat you at. One on one Quidditch. I brought a Quaffle with me. You can catch a Snitch alright, but I bet you can't throw a Quaffle to save your life."

Potter smirked. He seemed just as thrilled by the challenge as she was. "You're on. Aurora."

The use of the name just made her more determined to beat him.

She went to get the Quaffle from the storage shed just outside the main house, while Potter constructed some makeshift goals marked between standing trees. Aurora twirled the Quaffle in the air as she strolled out, just to see his reaction. Predictably, he looked annoyed.

"No need to look so glum," she taunted, "I'll go easy on you."

He had never played Chaser before, or at least not to Aurora's knowledge. But she would not go easy on him — though she would hold back on some of her trickier moves, if only to see if he and Gryffindor would then underestimate her in their next match. She swung her leg back over her broom, and swept into the air with the Quaffle tucked under her arm.

"First to ten," she declared, eyeing the line between the trees across from her. Potter rose into the air and met her eyes.

"You're on."

Giddy exhilaration rushed through her. "Three," she counted down, "two... One."

She tossed the Quaffle into the air between them. It hovered for just a moment, before plummeting back down, and they both lunged. Potter caught it first, but Aurora was quick to get in his way. The trick was moving back and closer to the goal while keeping an eye on him, which she did by pressing him back into his own end, blocking attempt to move. Then when he was far enough away that he wouldn't have the guts to aim at goal, she turned sharply, inclined enough that her broom tail still cut off his advances, and soared into her own end.

She whirled around in time to see him let the Quaffle fly, and lurched to the side to catch it, before darting forwards into his end, weaving underneath him and launching it forward. It soared between the trees and they raced to catch it. Aurora clasped it tightly, whirled around on herself, but as she crossed the threshold of her own goal, Potter swerved towards her to snatch it from her arms, grinning.

He was soaring forward and Aurora rushed around his side, turning quickly so that her tail was in his face and made him startle. He dropped the Quaffle and she darted down, but his dive was steep and dangerous, but it paid off. Potter launched it toward the goal, and it veered off far more to the right than he'd intended. Even so, it just scraped through before Aurora could catch it.

Both were smirking in anticipation as they rounded on one another. The game was on.

It was tougher fought than Aurora had expected, but she still had much more experience in Chasing and Keeping than Potter did, since she'd been trained in all areas and he'd only ever been a Seeker since first year. She beat him ten goals to four, and was still beaming when she touched down.

"I think that makes us even now, Potter," she said, eyebrows raised.

He pursed his lips, and held out his hand. "For now," he said, and she accepted the challenge, shaking his hand.

"I can't wait to one up you next time."

They went back towards the house at distance from one another, but not quite as tense as they had been before. As Aurora went to stow the Quaffle away, Potter asked, "What do you know about my family?"

She stiffened, and took her time closing the Quaffle box before she turned to answer. "Not very much, I admit. But I know their connection to my own, and I clearly know more than you do."

He scowled at that, but she ignored it. "Did you really not know you were a noble family? Did no one tell you?" He shook his head silently. "Professor Hagrid was the one who visited you? When you received your letter?"

Potter flushed, for some reason. "After that, technically, but yeah."

She frowned, thinking that over for a moment. It was entirely possible that Hagrid had simply not found it important, or not known, but that still felt unlikely. Perhaps he felt it unnecessary, or unfair, to burden an eleven year old with that weight. But Potter still should have known.

"You'll have to visit Gringotts. See exactly what vaults you have access to, and the Ministry will have the copy of your parents' will, and any other inheritances you are due. It is up to you what you do with your position." She wondered what decision would be to her best advantage. They had used his name before — having Potter here would be useful, and though she knew he liked to resist her and argue, he had no one else to guide him. She did not want to be the one to help him find his own power, but she had opened that door already, and it was an inevitability now. At least, she thought, she could find a way to use his power to her own advantage, covertly, without raising too much suspicion.

But Aurora also knew that his family's legacy had to be important to him. She understood that even without him saying so — their situations were not quite so different, even if neither of them would admit such a thing.

"Beyond that, I don't have much else to say. Believe it or not, my world does not revolve around you."

"I know," he said hurriedly, as she swept past him out of the storage hut, locking the door behind them even if it was unnecessary. "But you — do you know what my dad did? For a living, or..."

"You may be better off asking Sirius that one," she said, "I certainly don't know. But a lot of the heirs of noble families don't work. They don't need to — they invest, or work with the Ministry, or in charity."

"Right." He still seemed slightly dazed by it all. "My aunt said..." But he trailed off. Aurora raised her eyebrows but didn't press further — she didn't particularly care to have the shrill musings of Petunia Dursley relayed to her.

They did not speak again as they went back into the house, where Aurora's father was waiting for them.