Once she had settled back into her dormitory and completed the night's homework, Aurora sat down in the common room to pen a letter to Dora. She needed to learn more about Dementors and their effects, as well as how to combat them. She couldn't appear weak in front of anyone again. And she knew that as an Auror, Dora had some experience and expertise in this area. She could perhaps have asked Professor Lupin, but he seemed to have enough on his plate, and she worried that he wouldn't want to help her anyway.

A few days later at breakfast, she received the reply, suggesting a few books to check out from the library and a promise that Dora would teach her about something called a Patronus Charm when she was back over Christmas. The thought of Christmas at the Tonkses' made her heart lift properly for the first time in days — finally, a Christmas with family.

She was still grinning when Draco dropped into the seat beside her. "Morning," he said, spooning scrambled eggs onto his plate. "You look cheerful for a change." Aurora stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. "Who's the letter from?"

"Just Dora," she said as flippantly as she could.

Draco's initial teasing look turned to something serious and wary. "What about?"

"Just making sure I'll be at theirs for the holidays." She grinned. "You are still planning on going back to the Manor, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said, somewhat sullenly, and Aurora frowned.

"What?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd be going back to them for Christmas."

Aurora frowned at him, somewhat uncomfortable with his tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just, you know... Are you not better off here?"

"I'm sure I'll survive the English countryside for a fortnight, Draco."

His cheeks went pink. "I just meant—"

"I know what you meant." She sighed and shook her head as she folded the parchment back. "And thank you. But I will be quite alright. Dora's even going to teach me some defense work to deal with Dementors. Not that I really need it," she added hastily, though he appeared doubtful, "but it may come in handy, and it never hurts to be ahead of things. If I do decide to pursue any higher qualifications in the field, it'll stand me in good stead, and I would be foolish to give up an opportunity."

He still looked disbelieving. "Right." After a pause, he added, "Mum doesn't approve of her sister."

"I had gathered that."

"You know, your father—" She tensed as he dropped his voice. "Mother says she never believed it of him, but if he had truly turned back to our family's side of things, he would go after Andromeda. She said that her other sister was going to. You could be putting yourself in danger if you keep associating with them."

Anger flared in her belly. "Well, I don't have any offers for Christmas from our family," she let her voice harden on those last two words, "so I suppose it's this or be stuck with a bunch of Gryffindors again." She stood up suddenly, and her cousin's face faltered.

"I'm just saying, Aurora. Andromeda's husband's a mud—"

"Stop right there," she said, not sure of why such strong emotion was rushing through her, but desperate to relieve it anyway. "Don't talk about Ted like that."

"I didn't—"

"You were going to. He is a good person and he has been good to me. And Dora is an Auror and despite what your mother — who has not contacted me once through all of this, might I add — may think, I trust them. I'll be safe. And if you worry about my being with them," she added, "and if your parents do, maybe they should have thought of that when I needed them instead of now, when your mother has decided she hates her sister again."

She turned on her heel and stormed away, ignoring her cousin calling after her. Her anger was too much to talk to anyone right now, and she knew it showed on her face. It was stupid to be so annoyed with Draco of all people, and it wasn't an especially significant matter and she knew that, but she couldn't help it. She didn't like what he insinuated, she didn't like that he and his parents seemed to think they had the right to decide what happened in her life when they hadn't seemed to care one bit what happened to her the Christmas before Lucretia and Ignatius passed, or after. She wanted to believe they were just looking out for her, but she couldn't. Just because Narcissa was the only other member of the Black family still alive, free, and not disowned, didn't mean she was entitled to any part of Aurora's life. No one was.

Since she still had half an hour before History, and because she was far too prideful to walk back into the Great Hall after storming out like that, Aurora sought the relative quiet of the library. There was rarely anyone else in it at this time of the morning, and she thought to herself that it really couldn't hurt to do a bit of research into this Patronus Charm that Dora had mentioned.

It was just her luck that she ran into Hermione Granger, who was also in the Defense section, skimming through books about werewolves with a concentrated look on her face. Aurora rolled her eyes as she went past.

"You do know we don't have to do that essay, don't you?" she asked haughtily. "You don't have to show off quite that much."

"You're one to talk about showing off, Black."

Aurora smirked. "Ah, but I do it somewhat more discreetly."

"No, you don't." She grinned at Granger, who shook out her bushy mane of hair. "I'm just engaging in some extracurricular research. I thought you would have figured out why."

"Why do you insist on showing off? I imagine it's some sort of complex."

Granger just sniffed and turned around. She ignored Aurora, which suited her fine. She glanced around for the topic reference for D — Dementors. It was on the shelf just opposite the one Granger was perusing, and she sighed as she turned around, and looked through. Along with Newt Scamander's book, Dora had recommended Battling the Dark: Dementors and Defense, A History of Dementors, and Patronuses and their Use.

She picked them all up, holding them tight to her chest. Aurora was just about to move on wen Granger said quietly, "Thank you, by the way."

Startled, Aurora turned and stared at her. "What?"

"For saving Harry. He could have been really hurt."

She didn't meet Granger's eyes. "I don't know why you all act so surprised."

"I know," Granger said quickly. She looked like she was having to force the words out. "I know you helped him back in first year too and — well." She swallowed. "It's decent of you."

This was too strange. Aurora half-expected it to be a diversion so a Weasley could drop a water balloon on her head. "Right," she said uneasily, edging away. "Well, I'm glad to see one of you has a brain in her head."

"You could stand to be nicer, though," Granger added.

"And is Potter nice to me?" Aurora asked coolly. "Are you and Weasley?" At Granger's silence, Aurora rolled her eyes. "If that's all, I'll be off. Try not to drop any books."

She kept glancing over her shoulder as she went over to the checkout desk where Madam Prince was lurking, but Granger had turned back to her books like there was nothing amiss. Aurora decided it was best if she ignored that conversation. She had more important things to think about than what Gryffindors thought of her, after all. Still, there was some odd comfort in knowing that not everybody outside her circle of friends thought she was an awful person. Even if there was still the possibility that Granger may have been replaced by a clone.

That day wasn't too awful by third year's standards. She spent History reading the books Dora had recommended, as she had already caught herself up on the material for this week and Binns offered little in the way of illumination on their topic. After class, Pansy sidled up to her with Daphne and Lucille in tow.

"Draco is very upset with you," she started, which was not what Aurora wanted to hear at all.

"I'm upset with him."

"He keeps going on about it," Lucille aid.

"You only had a half hour of breakfast, I'm sure it couldn't have been that taxing."

"What happened?" Daphne asked, taking Aurora's arm. "He won't tell us."

"Daphne just wants gossip."

"I want to hear the truth."

"There's nothing to tell," Aurora said, bristling. "Our conversations really are not that important."

"Well, he's clearly sulking," Pansy said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "And it is frightful, and so are you. You had your head buried in a book all lesson, for Merlin's sake!"

"Thanks," Aurora replied drily, breaking away from Daphne. "But I think my education is important, thank you very much, Pansy, even if you do not care to enlighten yourself. I'll talk to Draco at dinner, if it means so much. But frankly, it's none of your business."

She knew as she walked away that Pansy and the others were staring after her, bewildered, possibly hurt. But in that moment she didn't care. She just wanted to be left alone.

At dinner, she saved a seat beside her for her cousin, who rolled his eyes as he sat down. "You didn't have to be so rude to Pansy, you know."

"Merlin," she muttered, "does everyone talk about me behind my back, or is it just you two?" The answer, she thought immediately, was everyone.

"Aurora," Draco said, huffing. "We are just trying to look out for you." To that, she didn't respond. "What is wrong with you?"

"What isn't?" she spat in retaliation. "In case you hadn't noticed, Draco, I've a lot on my plate at the minute!"

"Haven't you always?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're always making excuses."

"I am not."

"I know you've been through a lot, with Arcturus and Lucretia and—"

"Don't, Draco."

"—now this, but you're not the only person in the world, Aurora. It's not such a big deal."

"Maybe not for you," she muttered. "But I would wager I am considerably more affected by all of this than you are. You don't have to hear everyone whisper about you, you don't have to have your name splashed across the newspaper with speculation about your life, you don't have to wake up every day and hear the latest news about the person who murdered your mother and betrayed your family." She hadn't noticed she was trembling but she wasn't. Some of the other Slytherins nearby were staring, having gone quiet. The silence was deafening. Don't make a scene.

"I'm just saying you should be a bit more considerate of the fact that there are people here who actually care about you. Who don't care about all this as long as you're safe."

"Don't lie," she told him, heart pounding. "Everyone cares about it. You're always talking about it, thinking about it, you just don't want me to know. But I know what you think, Draco. I've heard what you say to taunt Potter. I've heard what you say about my father." It was now an effort to keep her voice steady and quiet.

"So what? It's Potter."

"This isn't about Potter," she snapped. "This is about my father. That's the one thing I would never use against Potter and you know why. Because he was a Death Eater. Because he killed my mother and I hate him for it."

Draco shook his head. "If it were me," he said, "I wouldn't care. He's like my Aunt Bella. He did what he had to do. I'd be proud."

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. She stared at her cousin until she couldn't bear it anymore, until his silence and his stare made her feel like she was burning. And then, with the blood rushing in her ears, Aurora stood up and walked out.

She tried to keep herself looking calm. Don't make a scene. But a part of her felt like it was breaking. It was a part of her that loved her cousin more than anyone in the world and didn't understand how he couldn't understand her. It was a part of her that just wanted a family, and could never have it. Had never been allowed, not really.

Hunger gnawed at her, as did guilt, but she kept walking. The courtyard was beginning to frost already, but she saw no need to run. The cold of the night air was a welcome kiss on her cheeks.

She wandered over the bridge, down the hill. The lake was lit by the half-moon, hanging in the sky. A chill went up the back of her neck and she kept on walking, towards the Forest and the empty paddock where her Care of Magical Creatures class took place.

There was no one around. When she looked back up at the castle, she could see the warm amber lights of the Great Hall. She wanted to be there, but she couldn't right now.

She turned back to the paddock, leaning on the fence. She saw the shadow of Death before her.

She was resigned to it by now. "I don't want any more bad news," she told him flatly. "I can't."

"I bring no ill tidings," Death said. "Only greetings."

"Right."

"It seems you are ill at ease."

"Yes." She bit her tongue. Her mother's final words rang in her head. Her father's did too, but she didn't want to hear them. He'd said I love you but it couldn't be true. "Why are you here?"

"I admit I am curious," said Death, tilting his head. "We have not spoken in some time. But I must have someone to speak to."

"Demons?" she suggested drily, not in the mood for any such chatter. She wanted to be alone with the night sky. Perhaps there would be an aurora, if she was lucky. It was such a clear night.

"They are dull company. No, I prefer wizarding kind much more."

"I see."

If she looked past the paddock, towards the forest, she swore she could see another shadow, lurking. The Grim, perhaps — wouldn't that be fitting? "Why can I see you?" she asked at last, in the lull.

"You are of House Black, are you not?" Death tilted his head. "I suppose I do, for lack of a better word, haunt your family. It is an ancient bond, forged in battle when this nation was very young, and your family's nation even younger. I thought I was going to take your soul many years ago, but I did not. My plan was changed, not for the first time. You Blacks do like to defy Death — but you cannot escape me forever."

"Why not just take me then?" Her voice had a jagged edge. "Why not? You took my family, all of them. Everyone who cared for me, they're all gone! I'm the last one left, just... Take me! Why not?"

His smile stretched in the gloom. "It is not your time." He leaned closer. "There are many things you do not understand, Aurora Black. And many more that you do not know. But I would remind — or perhaps, inform — you, that you are not the last of the Blacks."

She let loose a shaky laugh. "In name I am. In faith I am. I'm... Alone." She swallowed. "I'm an orphan. I have Andromeda and Ted and Dora and I care about them deeply, but they can't replace my grandmother, or Arcturus, or Lucretia or Ignatius. I have Draco but he doesn't understand. He's a Malfoy more than a Black and his mother is the same. Bellatrix is mad and my father..." She broke off, shaking her head.

"You forget," Death said softly. "Death knows far more than you do, child." He inclined his head. "There is much you must learn. If you are a Black, then prove it to me. Learn to understand."

"What do you mean, prove it?" she snapped, but in a blink, Death was gone. Were Aurora not so certain of her mind she might have thought she dreamed him. But Death was as real as anybody else.

She slumped over the paddock wall, and tilted her head so she could stare at the stars. Her eyes found Arcturus first. They trailed to the constellations of Cygnus, then Cassiopeia. Andromeda. Narcissa. Draco. They found Regulus and then Orion's belt and then, below it, the brightest star. Sirius. A shiver ran through her.

She swore she could feel eyes on her back, but when she turned, there was nothing there except the darkness, Hagrid's hut, and the castle in the distance. With a sigh, Aurora straightened up. Her stomach rolled. She needed to eat dinner, even if she was embarrassed to return. She'd barely eaten breakfast either, and at lunch had only picked at her food.

But as she made to begin the long walk up to the castle, she spied shapes coming through the gloom. Skeletal, dark horses, wreathed in pale grey.

They didn't unsettle her like they once had. Instead, she walked towards them.

"Hello," she whispered through the darkness. She reached out a shivering hand to stroke the mane of the one in front. It let out a low whinny and she sighed. "You're not so scary," she murmured. "Are you? You understand."

The horse moved its head slowly, butting against her hand. "Did Death bring you here?"

It didn't reply, though Aurora had hardly expected it to. She had never been particularly good with animals, except for her cat, but these things felt alright. Almost natural.

At the sound of a door opening, Aurora jumped and turned around sharply. Professor Hagrid was coming down the steps of his hut and she tried furiously to find somewhere to hide, but it was too late. He saw her through the dark.

"Who's there?" he asked, in a booming voice. "Show yerself." Her breath shuddered. "I'm warning you, if this is a student—"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, standing up, hands held above her head. "Sorry, Professor it's — it's just me."

He didn't look any more hostile. In fact, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Aurora Black?"

She nodded, gulping. "I'm sorry, Professor. I just needed some air. And I..." She glanced at the horses. "I didn't mean to come quite so far out."

For a moment, she thought Hagrid was going to give her a lecture, but then he shook his head. "You bin getting in fights again?"

"No!" she said sharply. "I haven't been getting in fights with anyone!"

He raised his eyebrows at that. She wondered what lies Potter and his friends had been feeding him. Instead, Aurora changed the subject. "What are they?" she asked, nodding to the horses.

Hagrid blinked in surprise, moving towards her. "Why, they're thestrals."

"Thestrals?"

"Type o' magical horse. Carnivorous. Not many students can see him. Only those..." He heaved a sigh and didn't meet her eye. "Only those who've known death."

"Oh," she said softly. She supposed she should have already known. Maybe she had, and just didn't want to admit it to herself. "That... Makes sense."

From behind her, Hagrid cleared his throat. "Listen, yeh, er, yeh shouldn't be out o' the castle this time of night. It's not safe."

"Sorry."

The professor sighed. "Come on, then. You're freezing and I ought to get you back up there. Yeh'll miss dinner."

"I've already eaten," she said, and when he gave her a dubious look, continued, "and I'm not hungry."

She was hungry, but he didn't need to know that. She didn't want to walk back in there. Surely she could find the Hogwarts kitchens and get something there. Or just wait until morning.

"Yeh oughta eat," Hagrid told her, clapping a giant hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Black — Aurora," he corrected. "Yeh can't stay out here."

"I'm fine. Really."

He chuckled. "Whether yeh are or not, I'm a teacher and I oughta get you inside."

Her heart sank but she knew he was right. He was being lenient with her anyways. "I just want to go back to the dungeons," she told him, and he nodded.

"Alright, if that's what yeh want. But yeh need to get out the cold, right?"

She nodded numbly. She stroked the nearest horse's — thestral's — neck, taking some comfort from the cold beneath her palm. Then she looked back at Professor Hagrid and stepped away.

"Alright."

"Yeh don't need to look so worried," Hagrid told her as they started up the hill, "I won't tell Professor Snape on yeh."

She smiled despite herself. "Thank you, Professor."

The wind blew around her hair and she drew her robes closer around herself as a shelter. "Do yeh want to tell me why yeh were out here on your own?"

Not particularly, she wanted to say, but Hagrid was looking at her expectantly and she knew it wasn't really a question.

"I just needed to be alone," she told him. "I had an argument with my friend. He's mad at me and I'm mad at him and I just... Can't be around other people right now."

Hagrid nodded in understanding. "I know how you feel. It's not easy." He raised his eyebrows. "Animals can be better company sometimes."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I suppose so." She didn't mention Death. How could she? Professor Hagrid would think she was mad, if he didn't already.

They went on the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the castle doors, she could hear the faint buzz of the school coming from inside. She glanced up then, turning slightly for a last look at the stars. The sky had started to cloud over somewhat but she still picked out her favourite constellations. It brought a comforted smile to her face.

"Come on in now," Hagrid told her. "And mind you get to your dormitory. No wandering about outside, yeh don't know what could be out there."

She winced but nodded, as they went inside. "I won't, Professor. Thanks... For not telling on me to Professor Snape."

He laughed. "Just you look after yourself. There are more dangerous things than Professor Snape."

She didn't reply to that, just nodded in gratitude and turned away to make her way towards the Slytherin dormitories, where she hoped she could be alone with her thoughts. Hagrid was right. There were far more dangerous things than Professor Snape. She just wished they didn't have to concern her.

The common room was indeed quiet when she returned. A shadow drifted past the window that face onto the lake, but she didn't have the heart to smile at it as she sank onto a sofa in the corner, far from her and her friends' usual haunt. She took a book from the nearby shelf — a record of Merlin's prophecies — but she barely managed to read it, staring at the window instead, as seaweed stroked the glass.

Something felt wrong. It wasn't just the external world and the mess her father had caused. It felt like there was something wrong with her. Perhaps it was a result of all that, but she felt like her whole life was unravelling. She was lashing out, and she had no way to fix things that she could see. She hadn't wanted to fight with Draco that day, or with Neville a few weeks before, or Gwendolyn at the start of term. She just felt angry, and helpless too. And she was slowly starting to realise that the world she'd inhabited, a world where she was stable and secure, wasn't a world that could continue existing. Her world kept changing, usually for the worse, and she couldn't stop it. The old world was slipping away. She thought perhaps it had been doing so ever since Arcturus died. There was no going back, but she didn't really know what to expect going forward.

Her musings were broken by a tap on her shoulder. She turned sharply, ready to shove off whoever it was, but it was only Theodore, with Daphne just behind him, looking sheepish. Aurora sighed. "Please don't do that."

"Sorry." He exchanged an anxious glance with Daphne. "I, uh, noticed you left dinner quite early."

She raised her eyebrows and shifted to the corner of the couch, trying to look haughty. She knew she was failing. "And?"

"I thought I'd bring you something to eat." From behind his back he produced a few napkins which, presumably, held food. Despite herself, Aurora smiled.

He and Daphne seemed to take that as permission to sit down on the same sofa as her.

Theodore handed over a bread roll with sliced ham, and then a small napkin's-worth of chopped tomatoes, which oozed slightly when she took them. "Exciting," she said, but couldn't hide her gratefulness as her stomach stirred. "Thanks."

Daphne shrugged and tossed her hair. "Pansy's throwing a right tantrum, we're better off here."

"Why is Pansy having a tantrum?"

"Oh, something to with Millicent and hair bows. And Draco is simply sulking." She sighed, tilting her head back. "We were suffering tremendously."

She couldn't bring herself to smile properly at that, and instead she picked at the roll. "What have you been reading?" Theodore asked, with genuine curiosity.

"Prophecies of Merlin."

"Oh, Trelawney recommended we have a look for that," Daphne said cheerfully. "Do you mind?" she asked, already reaching across Aurora.

"Be my guest," she muttered.

The pair of them discussed the prophecies and their recent homework assignment — which seemed to involve tea leaves — quietly next to Aurora as she ate in silence. At least the low chatter beside her was somewhat of a distraction from her own thoughts and the silence, until their housemates started reappearing. In the window's reflection, she could see Pansy and Draco come in with their arms linked, going to sit by their usual spot. She heard Lucille's high laugh. She stared at the floor, and Daphne closed her book loudly.

"I think I'm being summoned," she said, with a glance to where Lucille was waiting by the coffee table. "We're supposed to be going over the Charms homework?"

"I've already done it," Aurora said flatly.

"Likewise."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Of course you both have." She set the book down on the arm of the couch and stood up, before smoothing her hair down over her shoulders. "Good evening then."

She flounced off and Aurora felt a small pang in her chest. No one beckoned her, even though she could feel Draco's eyes flicking to her every now and then.

Theodore looked exceedingly uncomfortable beside her, and she went back to staring at the lake in silence, hoping that he would go away and she could be left to brood in peace.

"We all heard a bit of what you and Draco said to each other."

Aurora clenched her jaw, staring even more determinedly out of the window. "I'm sure you were suitably entertained."

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was low and somewhat wary. Aurora turned to stare at him. "And... Your father?"

"I've already told you, Theodore," she said in a clipped voice. "I don't want to discuss this. At all. I'm perfectly alright and even if I wasn't, I doubt you'd understand anyway."

"Wouldn't I?" He stared at her. "You know, you're not the only person in the world with a family who were Death Eaters. You're not the only with relatives in Azkaban. You're not even the only one with a father in Azkaban."

"Except my father isn't in Azkaban," she pointed out sharply, "is he? He's escaped and I would say that puts me in a rather unique position, especially considering I barely have any other family." Theodore made a derisive sound. "No one understands and that's fine. I wouldn't expect anyone to understand. You're all perfectly fine, everyone knows Draco and Pansy and Lucille's fathers were all Death Eaters but it doesn't affect them! They have jobs and money and mansions and families that understand them! They're all perfectly happy to go about their lives, and so are you, so don't lecture me on how we're the same, because we're not."

"You think you're the only one with a complicated family?"

She scoffed. "Not the only one, but I gather none of you had your mother killed by your father, only for your father to murder thirteen people and cause the death of your godparents, then have you sent to the very family he betrayed before this. And I don't think any of you have seen your grandmother die, and then your great grandfather, and I don't think any of you have lost four family members in two months and left you as the only free member of the family bearing your name, sent to live with people who were disowned before you were even born, because every other member of your family either died, turned their back on you, is locked up in Azkaban, or murdered another family member."

Theodore winced and looked away. She thought that would be the end of it — it usually was, with Theodore - but then he turned around and sighed. "I never knew my father," he said, "I doubt I ever will. I know my grandfather shares his views and is lucky he didn't get caught at the end of the war. He raised my brothers and I to think the same as them. Just like Draco and Pansy and everyone else was raised." His eyes were focused on Aurora and she squirmed at the attention. "I gather you read Muggle classics."

"My great-grandfather believed they had some literary merit, yes," she said stiffly, "and for much of the canon we can't establish whether or not the authors were muggles or not. Ancient civilisations were rife with magic."

He smiled. "Precisely. And I know you have Muggle blood, on your mother's side."

"Is this merely an excuse to insult me? Has your ego been so suddenly and unnecessarily inflated?"

"It's not an insult. You know that." She pursed her lips. "You're bright and you know that, too. Certainly brighter than Vincent or Gregory. Tearston's brighter than them and she's full Muggleborn as far as anybody knows. And that's just Slytherins. Hermione Granger - I know you don't like her but don't make that face before you hear what I have to say - is still one of the best in our year. My grandfather says it's preposterous and Dumbledore is rigging the curriculum in favour of Gryffindors and Muggleborns, but I don't think we can dismiss it."

"Is there a point to all of this, Theodore, or are you merely trying to bore me to sleep?"

He shrugged, but she could see that his jaw and shoulders tightened. "I suppose only that none of us are fully agreed with our families. Daphne's family doesn't give a toss about blood, anyway, just ask her about it. We're all... Complicated."

"Maybe," Aurora said, folding her arms. "But like I said, I'm still in a bit of a unique situation. I don't even know who my father is and everyone judges me based on him. My family hated him for being a blood traitor but then he betrayed his other family too. He betrayed me twice, effectively. He's a murderer and a Death Eater and I really don't think any of you understand that he could and would kill me, and that I do hate him — for both sides of him. And he is my father. I think that's complicated enough."

"I don't agree with my family either, you know," Theodore told her. "They're all I've got, but, I think they're wrong. My grandfather is... Agressive about it all. He raves about his opinions and I always have to wonder how he's convinced himself so strongly one way."

"But not convinced you?" Aurora asked pointedly, eyebrows raised.

"He's convinced my brothers. But I don't see it. Not anymore. I'm not old enough to remember the war but I remember more of the aftermath than they do. It didn't fade quickly, after all." Aurora shifted on the couch. Her grandmother had kept her shielded from much of that, from much of society. She didn't want to muddle things. She didn't want Aurora to go the same way as her sons — not when there were still whispers about Sirius, and rumours about Regulus.

"My parents weren't good people," Theodore went on, voice heavier. He was staring at the wall too, like he found it easier to talk to the stones than to talk to Aurora. "I don't particularly approve of murder, funnily enough. My brothers want to believe they were doing the right thing, because I suppose most people do want to believe the best of their parents, unless they're told otherwise. Thing is, Aurora, I might not know what it's like to be in your situation, but I get how you feel about your father, to an extent. And I just wanted you to know that you — well." He bit his lip and looked down for a second, before his gaze flicked up to meet Aurora's eyes. "You're not alone."

She stared at him for a moment, wondering how on Earth she was supposed to respond to that. She wondered why Theodore expected her to able to. Did he want her to agree? Did he want her to decide now, suddenly, that everything was fine because he had told her that she wasn't alone — as if he knew that? Nausea rolled through her.

"Well, if that's all." She struggled to keep her voice even as she stood up, napkin folded as neatly as possible in her hand. "I would like you to know that whatever you think, I am likely a far better judge of whether not I am alone. And it's wonderful that you think you understand, but you simply don't, and I doubt that you, or anybody else, ever will. So stop trying, Theodore. I don't want your pity."

He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. In the silence, Aurora took her cue to leave, with a sharp glance in the direction of Draco and Pansy.

But then Theodore said, "You know, Aurora, you really don't make it easy."

"Make what easy?"

"Trying to be nice to you."

She turned again to stare at him. "Perhaps I don't want anyone to be nice to me, Nott. Perhaps I don't need you to tell me how to feel. Perhaps I'd rather that you left me alone."

His eyes glinted, and he looked doubtful. But Aurora didn't want to discuss this further. She didn't want to dwell on the mess that was her life and she didn't want to dwell on Theodore was trying to say. "Or perhaps you just find it easier to be a bitch to everyone else than to deal with the truth."

Anger flickered in her chest, hot, but she just stared Theodore down coolly. Why should she care if she was being a bitch? The world was being a bitch to her. It had been doing so for the past fourteen years and didn't show any signs of stopping.

"Perhaps," she said quietly, and then straightened, flicking her hair. "Thank you for the food, Theodore. If you don't mind, I think I'll have an early night."

But she lay awake for some time before Gwendolyn arrived in their room. She'd been called a bitch before, but it was very different to hear it from Theodore Nott than from Ron Weasley. She actually liked Theodore. He hadn't deserved it, not really — though she knew what she'd said hadn't been the worst she had ever said, from it, she knew he meant well. Part of her wanted to be nice, to just be a good person who people liked, but no one was ever going to see her that way. And sometimes she couldn't help but snap at people, because people were so infuriating to be around now.

But a small worm of guilt did squirm in her stomach. She was under no obligation to confide in anyone and she knew that. Maybe she didn't handle such things as well as she could, but she didn't for the life of her know what people expected. For her to suddenly spill her heart out? To cry and cause a scene and let the whole world know how upset she was? She could never do that. That was showing weakness and for her to show weakness, was for House Black to show weakness. Right now, that was the last thing she could bring herself to do.

Still, when Gwendolyn arrived in their room at half past nine, Aurora stared into the darkness and asked her, "Gwen? Do you think I'm... Not always a very nice person?"

Her silence was answer enough. Aurora rolled over, pulled her knees up to her chest and resisted the urge to pummel her pillow.

"Aurora, you... aren't a bad person. You're a great friend." She could tell Gwen was saying what a friend should say, and what Aurora wanted to hear. But she wasn't sure she believed her.

"Theodore called me a bitch."

She could almost sense Gwen's wince. "What did you do?"

There it was. Certainly, Gwen thought that if Theodore had said it, it was justified. And that meant that what she had said originally, she hadn't entirely meant. "It doesn't matter. I've pissed off everyone today."

"You haven't pissed me off."

"Give it some time," she replied. "It's not quite ten o'clock yet, I'm sure I'll manage."

There was silence for a second before Gwen said, "Aurora, I know you don't like talking about things. But you can, you know."

"I know. I do still have a functioning voice."

Gwen gave a small laugh. "Alright. Yeah, I know." When Aurora said nothing, instead mulling over her conversations from earlier that day, Gwen said lowly, "Night then."

"Yeah." Aurora sighed, wrapping her arms tight around herself. "Goodnight, Gwen."