Aurora's mind was in turmoil. She could barely think as she strode back through the village, trying to recall the path to the Three Broomsticks. Her father couldn't be innocent, he just couldn't. But the story about Pettigrew was an absurd thing to make up, and he hadn't tried to hurt her, and Aurora knew the memory that the Dementors pulled out of her. Her mother's cry, her father saying, in perhaps his final words to her, that he loved her.

But it didn't matter anyway, or at least it shouldn't. His innocence didn't make him family. He had turned his back on at least one family, and he had turned his back on Aurora, too, surely. He should have fought the Ministry. If she did matter to him, as he claimed she did, if he was truly so opposed to the way she had been raised, well — it was his fault that she had been raised with her grandmother and Arcturus and Lucretia. He had no right to dictate what ought to have been to her, she was certain of that if nothing else.

Her hand had tightened around her shopping bags as she made to turn back onto the Main Street, trying to school her face into neutrality. She couldn't risk someone thinking something was wrong, even if she felt rather like she was falling apart, right there in the snow.

Something slammed into her shoulder as she turned. Aurora let out a shriek, her mind darting immediately to her father, and then a voice said, part furious, part terrified, "Black."

She felt certain her heart had stopped as she stumbled back, pushing him away, meeting green eyes. He shouldn't be there. He couldn't be there, not now. "Potter?" Her voice trembled on his name. No, no, she had to keep it even, keep herself together. "What is the meaning—"

"He..." He eyes flashed in anger. "He... Your..." He was shaking. Aurora stared back at him, feeling cold seep through her. "He — he killed them."

"I'm — I'm sorry?" She couldn't breathe.

"Your father, Black," he spat, and her blood ran cold. "He's the reason they're dead. How'd you like that? That's why you're so smug, that's why you've always hated me!"

"Potter, I don't—"

"He betrayed them!" he yelled, and before Aurora could stop him, before she could even work out what the reply to that should be, now, he had pushed her, and she had landed in the snow, stinging.

"Potter, this has nothing—"

"For you!" he shouted, face red, eyes lost but shining in anger. "He — he betrayed them."

Aurora got clumsily to her feet, seething. "Potter, that is not my fault."

That was the wrong thing to say. Potter lunged towards her again, an almost murderous look in his eyes, and Aurora grabbed his wrists, shoving him roughly back against the wall. "Don't you try and touch me," she spat, and shoved him a little as she let go. "You aren't even supposed to be in Hogsmeade."

"He betrayed them! And you—" He broke off, something shifted in his eyes. "They said..." He was now staring at her like he had never seen her before, in a mix of both confusion and revulsion. "They said... Your mum."

"Don't talk about her," she spat, trying to control her breathing. "I am not having this conversation with you, Potter."

"He killed her." He blinked. Aurora felt her heart tumble into her stomach, stealing the breath from her lungs on its way. "Black, I don't—"

"Don't talk to me," she said in a low voice, because Potter's parents' death wasn't her fault, but if her father had switched Secret Keepers to protect her, what if it was? And if the Death Eaters had come for her because they wanted the Potters, then didn't that make her mother's death Potter's fault, too? "You have no idea what you are talking about, Potter. Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" He made a move forward and she grabbed his shoulders again, kept him away, restraining the urge to slap him, as his words poured out in a bitter torrent. "He's the reason they're dead! And he's your father, and you don't care!"

"Shut your mouth," she spat, rage coursing through her veins, as she drew her wand.

"What? Going to curse me?" The light drew back into his eyes, glimmering with hatred. "I dare you, Black."

It was on the tip of her tongue, but cursing Harry Potter in the middle of Hogsmeade, in light of his accusations, would not reflect well on her. "Do not discuss my family," she warned lowly. "Do not utter their names. I am not my father. But do not — do not bring up my mother. Ever."

"But I — she — I didn't know—"

"Aurora?"

She turned sharply at the sound of her name in that familiar voice. Her face flushed as she stepped back, as nausea dizzied her head. "Draco," she said hoarsely, "this has nothing to do with you."

But he was already walking towards them, eyes fixed on Potter. Vincent and Greg lingered at the corner, looking uncertain. "What did you say to her?"

"Get out of it, Malfoy."

"Do you think you can—"

"Draco," Aurora said, voice teetering dangerously. "Leave it. He isn't worth it."

"But you're upset—"

She clasped his arm tightly, partly because she needed something to hold onto. "You heard what I said, Potter," she said lowly, holding his gaze. "And do not raise a finger towards me. Ever again."

With that, heart hammering, feeling the closest to tears that she had all year, Aurora turned sharply and stormed away, Draco following. At the turn of the street, they passed Hermione Granger, and Aurora glared at her.

"Aurora," Draco said quickly, once they moved out of earshot. "Aurora, you're shaking. What the hell did Potter say to you?"

"Nothing of note," she said, but her voice was high and strained and she couldn't stop it from warbling on the final word. "I said I'd meet Theodore and Gwen and Robin in the Three Broomsticks."

"Don't do that," Draco said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Change the subject — Aurora, you can tell me what's wrong. Tell me what that bastard said to upset you!"

"Oh, as if you have listened to what I have to say recently! I'm fine, Draco, can't you just accept that?"

"Not when you're lying to me!" he cried, and it was all Aurora could do not to just collapse, mentally exhausted. She tightened her grip on her cousin's arm.

"It was nothing I hadn't heard before," she told him softly. "I can put up with it." Draco didn't look like he believed her. "And I certainly don't want to discuss it in the middle of the street. Besides, I don't believe you have told me all that is amiss with you recently, so you cannot expect me to tell you everything."

Draco flushed, but nodded. "Are you going to tell anyone, though?"

She shook her head. "I am fine. It doesn't matter. None — none of this matters to me." It was perhaps the most obvious lie she had ever tried to tell.

Draco tentatively put his arm around her shoulders. "Suppose I'll come with you. If that's alright?"

She sighed. "Where's Pansy? Or Daphne or Blaise?"

"The girls are looking at jewellery, I don't know where Lucille and Millie dragged Blaise off to. The three of us were headed for a Butterbeer."

Aurora nodded stiffly but as they approached the Three Broomsticks, her breath stuck in her throat. She did not know how to face Gwen or Robin or Theodore, who would all know something was wrong but never put her at ease like her cousin did. And being around so many people, she felt, was a recipe for disaster. "I think I had better get to the castle, actually. It's getting late, and these presents won't wrap themselves."

Draco gave a quick nod to Vincent and Greg, who started off into the Three Broomsticks, presumably to let Theodore know. It was an unspoken agreement — they needed to talk, because they needed each other.

They were quiet on the walk up to the castle. Aurora tried to ignore the subject, because the wind was blisteringly cold against her cheeks and she already looked like she was crying, face red and nose sniffly, and she felt so confused and entangled and messy. There were too many people on the path, too many pairs of ears, and they spoke quietly of Christmas celebrations and Quidditch until they got to the dungeons and Draco drew her towards a corner of the common room where she would usuallysit with Theodore, and Aurora felt her lip tremble.

"Did he hurt you?" was the first thing Draco asked. "I mean, you know... Physically?"

"He pushed me," she said, and a dull pain went through her shoulder, a phantom of memory. "He — He was angry, Draco. The angriest I've seen him." She sank down onto the edge of a sofa, staring at the window which looked out into the murky lake. "He just lashed out. He found out about - about my father and what he did and..." Her voice trailed out and she pressed her face firmly into Draco's shoulder, still bitterly suppressing her tears. "I'm just in shock. That's all. He's bloody crazy, Potter is. I'll be fine." The silence said Draco didn't believe her. "I just hate this. All of this and it — it isn't fair to put it all on you, especially right now, I know that, and I — Potter doesn't know what he's talking about and he brought up my mother!" Her voice hitched. Pain splintered in her chest and her eyes stung, but she forced such feelings away, clinging to her cousin. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. What side I'm supposed to be on and now—" She couldn't say the words on the tip of the tongue. Telling him about her father was dangerous not only for her, but for Draco, too. She couldn't pull him into it. His family was too tied up with both the Ministry of the present and the Death Eaters of the past. "I want this all to be over. I don't care that Potter hates me, I hate that he hates me for something I didn't know. I hate that he thinks he's entitled to speak to me, to taunt me, to think anything about me!"

Draco put his arm around Aurora's shoulder, looking like he had something to say too — his eyes were shining silver. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment.

"I'm sorry, to you," she murmured, leaning against him. "I'm sorry, I — I've not been myself but that's not your fault."

"Yeah, but... We're family, right?"

"Yeah." She sniffed. "It... Got out of hand. You're stubborn as hell when you want to be."

"And you aren't?"

She couldn't help the low, sharp laugh. It may have been a sob, if she allowed herself to think of it that way. "Point is, I should have... Been a bit nicer."

"I should have tried to understand—"

"So should I! I'm just..." She shook her head and sat up straighter. "I hate all this. I hate how absolutely shit this year is. I hate that all anyone sees when they look at me is my father and I know maybe not everyone does but that doesn't stop me feeling that way, I'm just... So conscious of it, all the time. But it's not your fault. None of this is." She swallowed tightly. She hated apologies. But sometimes they were necessary.

"Yeah, but..." Draco shrugged. "I am just trying to look out for you. You know that. I'm sorry that... I know I'm maybe not being great, I don't always get it but I'm trying. You're my best friend."

"I know that," she said as softly as she could, trying to keep the creeping exasperation out of her voice. "I just don't want you to have to. I don't want to be the person people are looking out for! I don't want — I don't want to feel... Whatever?"

"Whatever..."

She took a deep breath. "I know people care about me. I know you do. That's what matters. And I care about you too. You're my best friend, Draco, but sometimes I just don't know how to talk to anyone. And I don't want to."

Part of her expected him to get angry about that again. But he just frowned. "But you can. Talk to me."

"But I don't want to have to... Discuss my bloody feelings! There are far more important things. I have to be strong. For the family — our family. Now more than ever." Her eyes burned. The family her father had left behind.

Draco didn't say anything but she knew somehow that he understood what she wasn't saying. "You're right," he said eventually. "It has been a shit year." That got a small chuckle out of her. "But, Aurora, you know I never think you're weak."

"Even so. Grandmother always said... I can't cry. I can't make a scene. I can't be weak, Draco. Not just for me."

He nodded, looking like he understood. Because to an extent, Aurora knew he did. Knew he had heard similar from his own father, about the strength of the family, the house, the name, whether Malfoy or Black.

"I'm sorry we fought," he said, "and I'm sorry it took so long to, you know, actually talk. But it's just... You're always the one in charge." She straightened, staring at him, wondering where this was going. "I mean, I get it. You're just like that and that's how it's always been. But you're always best. You always tell yourself you have to be and you always want to be right and don't get me wrong, most of the time you are and I just don't want to admit it, but it's infuriating."

She raised her eyebrows but was determined to steady her annoyance. "Infuriating how?"

"Because I want to be right too. And because me being right, means my father being right and... All of this stuff... I know how much you hate yours but they're... They're not so different. In what they did. I — my father—"

"Just didn't get caught," she finished flatly for him. She stared at the cold stone wall, trying to keep her words even, to arrange her sentence. "That isn't your fault either, though."

"I know. But my father... He wants me to be the perfect son and heir and everything. And I want to believe everything he said. But the people he associated with... The people he supports." He shook his head, shrugged. "They're people like your father. And you hate him and for good reason. And my mother hates him for different reasons. But it could have easily been my dad. I think I kind of know that now? And I don't know if that means I should think the way I think. Because, it's like... I mean, you're basically my sister but your mother was..." He trailed off, the word on the tip of his tongue. For once, he left it unsaid.

"Muggleborn."

He nodded, cheeks pink, looking away. "I don't know if — if what my father believes is... You know."

"It isn't right," Aurora told him flatly, glancing away. "It never has been. Even if people tell you it is. My grandmother hated her — my mother. I sometimes worry part of her hated me, in case I turned out like... Them." Her father's haunted face flashed before her eyes and she clasped her cousin's hand tightly. "But Arcturus said, we can't live like that forever. He didn't talk about them but it — I mean, I'm not... Technically, pureblood." The words were strange and heavy to say. "But I know I'm not lesser for it." The words toujours pur rang in her head and she eyed the ring on her finger. It seemed to twinkle up at her. But despite its words, it still belonged there. It belonged with her. "He knew that too. He taught me so."

Draco stared at the ground. "Things are... Changing." His voice took on a new strain and he looked faraway. "Mother's worried. I'm worried. Because I don't want you to be hurt. And I get you don't want me to worry and you don't think you need me to worry about you, but I do. And I just don't really know how this all fits into... Everything?"

"Yeah." She bit her lip, going over everything she had heard earlier, trying to pick out how any of that fit into 'everything' trying to make sense of the world that seemed intent on fucking her over and falling apart before her very eyes. Whatever Draco was trying to get at, it still sat uncomfortably with it. She didn't know where he was trying to go. What he was really thinking. She said quietly, "I get it."

Silence fell between them for a moment. But it was a comfortable one, which had been rare recently. Then, Draco whispered, "We'll get him back for this." He squeezed her shoulder. "Potter, I mean. No one attacks my cousin and gets away with it."

"I can get my own revenge, Draco," she said, teasingly rather than wearily. "Can we um... Just go back to being normal? Well, I suppose, not normal, nothing's normal, but um... Being friends again?"

Her cousin chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't say we were not friends." Aurora raised her eyebrows. "Maybe just friends who... Were angry."

Aurora laughed bleakly. "I'm always angry. Just not usually at you." She smiled though, because she had to. "It's been shit. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Draco said, breathing out. "I miss you. I know you don't like talking about things like that though."

"It isn't only that," she told him quietly. "I don't want to put you in a difficult position. And I know — I know, that all of this is tremendously complicated." Perhaps even more so than she'd originally thought. "I know I upset you. I didn't mean to, but I..." She sighed, and her cousin put an arm around her. "It's a mess, and I'm sorry."

Draco smiled warily. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did. At Quidditch. I know were trying to apologise."

"You were sort of right," she admitted.

"I know I shouldn't have said it like that. All that stuff, well, it shouldn't affect us. But it does. It affects you even if it doesn't really..." He pursed his lips. "Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I know I don't really get your situation. But that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about it." He winced. "From now on."

Aurora curled her legs underneath her and sighed. "You're right, Draco. You don't understand. I know you try, and it isn't your fault either. But that just doesn't mean I'm okay. I don't even know how to think about all this myself!" She let out a frustrated, breathy laugh. "I don't want to have to think about any of this. But I do. Every single morning, I walk into the Great Hall for breakfast and people stare and whisper about me and my father. No one else has that! It's not your fault, I know that. That doesn't mean it doesn't bother me."

Draco leaned back. "You always say nothing bothers you."

"Well, I think—"

"I know it does. I always do. You just keep pushing everyone away. I know you have reasons," he was quick to add, "but you can't deny that you do. And I think we all actually do understand a bit better than you think."

"Draco, when people look at you, they see the son of someone who has power, is friends with the Minister, and can do basically anything he wants, regardless of what he might or might not have done in the past." She avoided passing judgment on that for now. "When they look at me, right now, they see the daughter of an escaped convict who has no power or influence. They see someone to hate. And the people who don't see someone to hate for one reason, will see it for another. I don't — I mean, in truth, I can't deny that the rest of my family were involved in the war. But I don't claim Bellatrix—" the name caught in her throat, and she imagined green light flashing behind her eyes, her mother crying out "—or Regulus. I don't agree with them, and that doesn't make me a Blood Traitor or anything. But no one else sees it that way. And often, it feels like no one sees me. I am a Black — but I'm Aurora Black. I don't want them to define me. Whereas you may have some of the same things to hide — but people don't get to see them all over the newspapers."

When all Draco did was stare at her, Aurora wondered if she had tremendously messed up with her words.

"I know," he said eventually. "But I don't know where I'm supposed to stand. With my father and... Everything." He broke off. Aurora could tell that she was likely not going to get further down that particular path tonight. Regardless of her own thoughts on whether one should agree or disagree with Lucius Malfoy's view of the world.

"Fine," she said, though with an edge to her voice. "We won't discuss that tonight. I trust you know where I stand regardless."

"I do." Draco stared out the window, as seaweed brushed against the glass. "Are we are alright then?" Draco asked her, looking nervous again.

Aurora squeezed his hand and stood up. "We're alright. We're family, aren't we? We have to stick together."

Perhaps now more than ever.

She sat with Draco most of the evening and they were joined by Pansy at dinner, but surprisingly it was Theodore who stuck closest to her, sitting by her in the common room. It took her a while to realise why and when she did she couldn't help the affection that flickered for him. She knew Theodore had had his own share of judgment for his father over the years, too. His quiet solidarity kept her rooted, somehow.

When she finally got to be in her dormitory, alone except for Gwendolyn — who had the sense to realise Aurora didn't want to talk about it, that she had given up all the emotion she could for one day — the memory of that conversation burned in her head. All the things she'd said, all the things he had told her. She'd called him traitor and murderer and everything she'd heard him called over the years. Any time she'd thought about him, she'd imagined herself screaming like that, every horrible thought pouring out. She'd thought it would have made her feel better, to let out the rage that had sat with her all her life, but instead she felt empty and tired.

Part of her wanted to never see him again. Part of her wanted him killed so she wouldn't have the trouble. Part of her also wanted to do the honours herself. But part of her wanted to go back there. She wanted to know. She wanted to understand the tangled mess that her family had become. She hated him, and yet, he was her flesh and blood. Not family, because he never could be after everything, but he was something close, something almost. Something that could have been. She couldn't trust him, but somehow the things he had said, they hadn't sounded like lies. But they should be. He didn't care about her, he didn't love her, he was a traitor who had killed her mother and turned his back on his family.

But as she lay awake in bed, Stella's weight heavy on her chest, she wasn't sure. She hated not being sure. She had no plan because she didn't know what she was up against. Maybe she should forget it. Plead ignorance, when the time came. Enjoy her Christmas with the Tonkses. And yet...

She didn't know what to do.