Term wound to a close as it always did. Aurora visited her father a couple of times before he left Hogwarts — at her insistence, the Ministry had agreed he could be kept on house arrest at Arbrus Hill, a large old house near Norwich which had been in the Black family for generations, and passed down to Aurora. It was relatively far from the city, in the countryside — which suited him well, after so long in captivity — in a place Aurora didn't have much in the way of sentimental attachment to, removed from the public view, yet close enough to larger magical communities that Aurora didn't feel he would be out of her reach.

Pettigrew was being detained in Azkaban until the trial, the dating of which was still undecided. But Aurora was pushing for it to occur by the end of July, and if she was insistent enough, she thought they might give in, and also hold it prior to the Quidditch World Cup, to prevent Ministry resources being too tied up. While trials for such crimes would ordinarily take a long time, the evidence was stacked against Pettigrew and in Aurora's opinion it was clear, once he had given testimony, that her father was innocent. No one could doubt it, the Wizengamot would surely clear him — the fact that her father was on house arrest, while Pettigrew was in Azkaban, only demonstrated that the Ministry thought the latter was the guilty party — and in her opinion it would be far more beneficial for them to get it over and done with and keep the scandal from overtaking the press. The wizarding world had, after all, gone into something of a frenzy.

Over the final week or so of term, Aurora received no less than twenty-seven letters — she had started to keep count after the fifth — saying very little of worth except to extend their apologies for how she and her father had been vilified, or to accuse her of lying yet again. Those letters more often than not became kindling for the common room fire at night. It was, in its way, rather satisfying, but it didn't make up for anything.

On the final day of term, during their usual Defense Against the Dark Arts slot — which had been cancelled for the rest of term — Harry Potter caught her alone in the library between Agrippan Pyramids and Arithmantic Tapestry Weaving as she was handing back the many books she had accumulated over the year. Professor Lupin had left two days after the events in the Shrieking Shack — Snape, bastard that he was, had let slip about his condition, and he had chosen to resign before the owls came flooding in. Aurora was sorry to see him go, but he had assured her when she visited that they would see each other again — and that he would keep an eye on her father. Potter had arrived not long after that, so Aurora had bade him a hurried goodbye to avoid the boy's questions; but she supposed, now, it was unavoidable.

"Listen," he was saying anxiously, running his hands through his hair, "I know we uh, don't like each other."

Aurora raised her eyebrows, leaned against the shelf, and drawled, "Potter, I thought you were my biggest fan."

He flushed red. "Look, just... Forget it."

Aurora stared at him. "Forget what, Potter?"

"That... Well, your dad did say I could live with him. And, listen, I know you don't like me but he seems to want to get to know me. And I do want to get to know him and, I get that that doesn't mean we have to like each other now but I think — I'd like to at least not fight with each other all the time." He bit his lips, almost worried, and Aurora raised her eyebrows coldly.

"We have fought with each other?" She mocked confusion. "I assure you, I had no idea."

"Black," he said flatly, giving her a pointed look. "I'm trying to—"

"I know what you're trying to do, Potter," she said tiredly, clutching her stack of books carefully to her chest. "And as much as it pains me to admit, you may have a point somewhere in your rambling. I don't like you, you don't like me, and honestly I doubt that we will ever get along. But my father has had twelve years on his own. There are many things he has missed, and while I wouldn't..." She winced. "While I am not upset with my upbringing, I cannot deny that my father is. His freedom is to give him a second chance at life. At family. And, much as I may hate the idea, he wants you to be a part of his family. He feels he owes it to your parents most of all. I cannot begrudge him time with you." She tilted her chin up. "I do not want to play happy families with you either, Potter. But for my father's sake, I would rather we both attempt some semblance of civility."

He swallowed, still staring at her. Part of her hated the smile that plucked at his lips. "Some semblance of civility." For a moment he sounded like he was mocking her, but then he covered it up with a lopsided grin. "I guess that's better than you trying to hex me."

"And have you never tried to hex me?"

"Never!" he insisted, but Aurora was certain he had thought about it. "And um, I'm sorry. About misjudging you and thinking... That your dad was guilty."

"Everybody did," she said as lightly as she could. "You couldn't have known that. I believed it too, for most of my life. As for misjudging me." She swallowed bitterly. "As you say. We have never liked one another. Perhaps you are more agreeable than I let myself know, I do not care. But if we are to clear the slate, then I suppose I apologise. For my persistence, in hating you. Though please do not fool yourself into thinking that means I like you." Potter grinned, nodding.

"My father is currently residing at one of the family homes near Norwich. I will get the details to you. Doubtless he will want to see you soon — and there will be the matter of the trial, too, of course, in which we must be united. I will contact you. And I suppose I must also thank you. For assisting in saving my father — pass on my regards to Granger, too." She smiled wryly — Granger had been her out for top spot in Ancient Runes by two percentage points, though Aurora had scraped an equally narrow first place in Arithmancy. "Weasley, as well, I suppose. He has lost a rat. And, if it isn't too much of an intrusion, might I have an address to contact you in the Muggle way, if need be?" The Ministry were far likely to intercept an owl than the Muggle post, if they decided to try it.

Potter blinked, then cleared his throat. He ran his hands through his hair again — she had never quite realised how often he did that, but now she did, it inevitably annoyed her. "Surrey. Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging. But uh, please don't come unless you have to."

"I was not intending on calling for tea anytime soon."

"No, but — my aunt and uncle don't really like magic and that stuff much. They'd be a bit freaked out if you appeared and they'd probably get quite angry, too. So."

She nodded, not quite in understanding, but acceptance. "I won't disturb you unless necessary."

Potter bit his lip, then he nodded too. "So," he said, managing a small grin, "am I meant to call you Aurora now?"

"Not a chance." She pushed away from the shelf, turning on her heel. "You can help me deliver these books to Madam Prince safely, Potter, or you can get out of my sight."

He had the audacity to laugh as he left.

-*

Packing her trunk at the end of the year felt different than it usually did, somehow. Aurora could sense, just as Pansy and Draco had pointed out a few days prior, that change was on its way. She would be returning home to the Tonkses, yes, but over the summer they would all be visiting her father, too. He was still under watch by Aurors in Norwich, at least until the trial, but they were allowed to visit. She didn't know how Andromeda would react to seeing her cousin in the flesh again, for the first time in over a decade. She wondered, too, if she ought to include Narcissa, but felt her father wouldn't have such a positive reaction to her, even if she was family. Even if she had been family for longer than either her father or Andromeda could have been — she had not yet written to Aurora, though Aurora wasn't really sure she wanted to know what she had to say, anyway.

On the final night of term, she and her friends gathered in Draco and Blaise's room. It was the end of term, but Draco's birthday had recently passed and they all agreed they were deserving of celebration. For the occasion, Gwen and Robin had been invited in too — as Aurora and Theodore's roommates, respectively — and the room was verging on cramped rather than cozy. But Aurora rather enjoyed being able to relax again, and breathe easy around everyone. Besides Pansy and Draco, the only other person she'd shared the true story of that night with was Gwendolyn, but the others all had varying degrees of understanding around the subject.

She had been gauging their reactions over the past few days. Theodore appeared uncertain and trepidatious, and did not breach the subject with her even when she thought he wanted to; Millicent, bless her, was stoic and unchanging, her only comment being that she hoped Aurora gave the Ministry a kicking for its stupidity; Blaise tried to give off his usual air of indifference, but Aurora could tell he was secretly curious; Lucille was rather haughty, and had yet to do much acknowledge the change in circumstance, which Aurora supposed could also be something of a blessing in its own way; Vincent and Greg appeared curious, but had clearly been told not to push the subject; Robin, she suspected, knew a bit more than he was letting on, but seemed only to have been positively affected by the news; and Daphne was unexpectedly warm about the ordeal, likely because of her family's lack of affiliation with the Dark Lord in the first place.

Gathered as they all were, shoulder to shoulder, Aurora's legs out in front of her and crossing with Pansy's ankles, her head resting on Draco's shoulder, she could pretend, for a moment, that all would be well. She could pretend that nothing would change, and that nothing had changed. They whiled the night away with gossip and many explosive rounds of snap.

"Of course," Daphne said cheerfully, when Vincent and Greg became the first to give in to drowsiness and announce that they were going to bed, "we'll all see one another soon, won't we? My Aunt Lavinia is hosting Merlin's Day, and I believe that now most of you should expect invitations." She avoided, rather conspicuously, meeting the eyes of either Aurora, Gwen or Robin — she didn't like being pushed into the same category as them, not in this context. Merlin's Day was a traditional celebration popular with pureblood society, but most strongly associated with the Welsh wizarding community of which the Greengrass was a cornerstone. It was only becoming more popular nowadays, celebrating a day when magic and by extension the magical community, was renewed. "And then there's the Quidditch World Cup — Vincent, you absolutely must convince your folks to let you go."

Pansy laughed, "Don't speak as if we never see each other in the hols, Daphne." She rolled her eyes and clasped Aurora's hand tightly, looking to her. "I'll be seeing you."

Her heart warmed and she squeezed her friend's hand in return. "I'll write to you. Update you. I promise."

"You had better," Lucille said, tossing her hair, "my father will no doubt interrogate me as soon as I get over the threshold."

If anything, that made Aurora less inclined to discuss the matter with her. Especially since that promise had been intended for Pansy. "I suspect he'll glean more from the Daily Prophet, in all honesty," she said. Her gaze flicked, fleetingly, to Theodore, who at once looked away from her. She suspected he was thinking of his own father, in Azkaban. Their fragile understanding seemed to have twisted in the face of the revelation about her own father.

"Even so." Millicent leaned forward and said, "I just want to know what this Pettigrew bloke's up to. And did you hear about Barty Crouch?" Everyone blinked and Millicent sighed loudly. "Clearly, none of you have read the Prophet, then."

"I've been avoiding it like the plague," Aurora admitted, and Draco and Pansy both nodded.

Millicent sucked on a sugar quill before she elaborated, "Rita Skeeter says he's losing it. Stress with the investigation and the World Cup and everything. Mum wrote me the other day, said to see if anyone knew anything, like, from parents at the Ministry, but I forgot." She shrugged, seemingly bemused by the reaction this garnered. "Probably nonsense. Rita Skeeter likes to exaggerate, we all saw what she wrote about Aurora. Just thought it was interesting."

That had effectively dampened the mood. Vincent and Greg made their way to their dormitory with stilted goodnights, and Daphne and Lucille left not long after. Blaise leaned back once they were gone and said, "I don't know what you all make such a fuss for. My mum tried to court Barty Crouch after his wife died around the same time as husband number three, she says he's a boring arsehole. He's probably more concerned with cauldron bottom legislation than something like the Quidditch World Cup, honestly."

Theodore rolled his eyes and said quietly, "He put a lot of people in Azkaban after the war. It makes his life rather difficult to ignore."

"Can we not discuss him?" Aurora asked pointedly. "I have around sixteen hours before I'm confronted with it all and would much rather discuss Zabini's absolutely dismal attempt at packing his trunk."

"Eh, I'm just going to do it in the morning. I knew you lot would mess it up if I tried to be tidy before having you all over."

"As if we would ever," Pansy drawled, and Gwen giggled.

"There's an entire pile of sugar between the two of ou," he pointed out.

"Well, if you're tidying everything tomorrow, mate, it shouldn't be a problem." Robin clapped him on the shoulder.

Blaise sighed melodramatically and leaned back against his bed. "Why, oh why, am I so cursed as to be in your presence?"

"Because you invited us," Pansy said, and he flashed her a grin.

"Woe is me, Parkinson. Woe is me."

Soon though, they were all beginning to lag, and Aurora noticed Draco almost falling asleep on her shoulder, so they had to call it a night just as the sun was beginning to rise, casting gold into the murky lake outside. Aurora hugged her cousin goodnight and held on just that little bit longer than normal, before she left with the five others.

"You'll be alright," he whispered in her ear. "We'll be alright."

"I know," she said, though it still felt very much resonant of a lie. "I promise I'll write to you. And visit you. And tell you... Whatever I can."

Draco grinned as Aurora broke their hug. "Just be careful, yeah?"

"I'm always careful," she said, but there was still one thing weighing on her. The voice she had heard when the Dementors came had been familiar. She knew why — she just really, really didn't want to acknowledge it. Staring at her cousin, she didn't know how to. Because she was certain, in the depths of her soul, that it was the voice of Lucius Malfoy.

She took the thought with her all the way back to her room, where Gwen almost immediately fell into bed. She could not — would not — let her suspicion affect her relationship with her cousin. If that really had been Lucius Malfoy that night, who had come to kill her or worse, it was no more Draco's fault than the death of the Potters could ever have been her fault. But the memory still haunted her. The hatred in his voice haunted her, and as she dropped off to sleep that night she was haunted, too, by the voice of Death whispering through the shadows, "Don't you see yet, little dawn? There is so much left for me to take."

-*

The sun shone on their departure from Hogwarts the next morning. Aurora greeted the thestrals that pulled the carriages with a nervous smile, and tried her best to ignore the shadow that hung around them, whispering. While the weight of secrecy had been lifted from her shoulders over the past few days, Aurora by no means felt free as she had thought that she would. Even with her father on his way to being cleared, she had more and more questions about her family and its past — questions which she wasn't sure she really wanted to have answered. There were still too many loose threads on the family tapestry. Regulus, lost, presumed dead. Callidora, the distant great-aunt, a recluse. Various members disowned, her father and Andromeda included. All of it seemed to come into focus now more than ever, that this was the legacy she had inherited. And that she did not understand it nearly as well as she needed to.

Yet, for those few golden hours on the Hogwarts Express, Aurora allowed herself to indulge in her friend's' gossip and laughter. The more observant of them — Draco, Pansy, Theodore, Gwen — saw her reticence to join in, but she was grateful they did not speak of it. Tired from the night before, they all dozed at various times in the compartment, and when Aurora woke from a post-lunch nap, she went to stretch her legs.

The train shuddered beneath her and she couldn't help but give a start, remembering the Dementors — but it was light outside, sunshine blazing over the rolling hills of the Scottish Borders, and there was nothing to hurt her, yet.

Halfway down the train on her wander, Aurora ran into Cassius, his hair a mess and his face flushed. He grinned when he saw her. "Aurora," he greeted cheerfully, though he paused slightly as he came closer and cleared his throat. "I thought I wouldn't see you." She raised her eyebrows. "We, uh..." He winced, fumbling over her words. Aurora sighed and leaned against a wall, content to let him work through it himself. "Are you alright?"

She blinked. "Of course I am."

His eyes narrowed. "Right. Only... I mean, everyone knows about your dad and I just. I know loads of people are probably asking and you can tell me to bugger off if you figure it's none of my business, but. How are you holding up?"

It felt like a surprise, coming from him, though Aurora wasn't quite sure why. No one had quite put it like that. Holding up. Like he knew that even if she was slightly shaky — because how couldn't she be? — she was still standing. She wasn't fragile, or breakable. She had done what she wanted to do, perhaps not in the way intended, but she counted it as a victory.

"As well as can be expected," was her clipped, careful response. She considered him, meeting his eyes. "It's all complicated, I'm sure you appreciate."

"Of course," he was quick to say, flushing. "But, you know. Team needs you to be on form if you're stepping up to the plate next year."

Unexpectedly, it brought a smile to her face. "Ah, if it's Quidditch you're worried about then I'm afraid I may be coming for your own position."

Cassius grinned. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I absolutely would." She allowed herself to smile at him, to say through a lazy grin, "But you're being rather sweet to me right now, so I suppose I'll have to unseat Montague instead."

That made him go bright red, and Aurora laughed, a shrill but true sound.

"Really, though," Cassius said, "you don't have to tell me anything, I guess, but you can. If you want to, or need to, then... Yeah."

Aurora tried to hold back her laugh and said, "Thank you, Warrington. I appreciate it."

He ducked his head somewhat bashfully. "You look after yourself this Summer, Black, alright?"

With another quick nod, he made to turn and Aurora called after him, "Cassius?" His head snapped back around. "You will let me know when you get captain, won't you? We'll have to figure out formations for next year. I'm not losing the cup two years in a row."

His cautious smile turned to a smirk. "Wouldn't dream of it, Aurora. They aren't going to know what's hit them."

And with a final, parting grin, Cassius went on down the corridor and Aurora let herself have a small, tentative smile. At least Quidditch was a constant in her life.

And at the precise moment she thought this, of course, Harry Potter had to almost collide with her coming the other direction down the corridor.

"Watch where you're going!" she snapped at him immediately, then winced. Civility. It had to be massively overrated.

Glaring, Potter said, "Your dad's letter arrived for me."

"And?" She tried to sound bored, but she hadn't known her father was going to write to Potter, and by the sounds of it, she was going to discover why.

"He said to pass it on to you. He was only allowed one owl, and it's been given to Ron — since he doesn't have a pet anymore." Potter shifted uncomfortably and held out a folded piece of parchment which Aurora took carefully. Writing to her was a formality; they would see each other in a few days anyway, but perhaps there was something he didn't want to discuss with Andromeda present. "He also said that he wanted to see me, and to ask you when that might work? Seeing as you're... In charge, or something?"

She gave him a withering stare. "As I am the head of the family?"

Potter's cheeks flushed red. "Yeah, I think so. Look, he seems to want to see me, so if you'd, you know, get in touch?"

Trying not to roll her eyes, Aurora told him, "I told you I would write, and I will. It will be arranged, but as you can see, Potter, I am still very much on the Hogwarts Express and therefore unable to do your bidding."

"I'm not trying to get you to—"

"Thank you for handing this over," she told him, effectively ending the conversation.

That was as good as he was going to get and he seemed to know it. Aurora pushed past him to get back to her own compartment and he trailed for just a minute before slipping in with Granger and Weasley. When she got back to her compartment, Aurora was immediately questioned about the letter in her hand but she shook her head, curling up next to Draco as she read.

My dearest Aurora,

I'll try to keep this brief, since I know you're not a fan of my sentimentality. Everything's alright here, definitely better than Azkaban or hiding out in the forest. I can't remember being at Arbrus Hill often when I was your age — this was Aunt Cassiopeia's domain, if I remember correctly — but it is pleasant and your little house elf Tippy is certainly sweeter than Kreacher ever was. Andromeda has written too, and apparently I'm to expect you soon. You'll be pleased to note I've cleaned up a bit since you last saw me.

Remus has visited every day since he left Hogwarts. I probably shouldn't encourage you but I know you hate him anyway, so give Snivellus hell for us. Slimy git. And I'm back in contact with a couple of people from our school days, which is odd but nice. Hestia Jones visited with Remus earlier, and she said she would love to meet you, if that's something you'd be comfortable with, and want, of course. You don't have to, but I think you would like her. Apparently she has a nephew who is in Slytherin, in your year, too, called Apollo.

I've written to Harry, too. Presumably he was the one to pass the note on to you, though, so you already know that. I've explained to him some things I couldn't explain before. I know you two don't get on, and I don't expect you to suddenly change. But it would make me very happy to be able to see you both at least try to work out your differences.

I'll see you soon. I can't wait. We'll be a proper family soon, or at least as much of a proper family as I can offer you after so long.

With love, always,

Dad

Aurora didn't entirely like the way the note made her lips tremble with a faint smile, or brought a lump to her throat. Nor did she entirely hate it.

She was aware of her friend's careful eyes on her and so folded the note neatly into her pocket. She controlled her smile and said, "Nothing bad to report, so you can all stop watching me like I'm a dormant hex." Turning to Draco, she added, "He's happy, I think."

Her cousin smiled, though not without a hint of apprehension. "Good."

"He wants me to work out my differences with Potter."

Draco snorted. "Good luck with that, Aurora." He pursed his lips, as the others in their compartment resumed their conversation about the Quidditch World Cup. "My mum wrote to me too. She said she wanted to write to you but didn't know what to say. That she was really worried about the news." Aurora tensed — there were many ways in which Narcissa could be worried because of what had happened. But Aurora had worked towards this. The consequences, she would carry upon her shoulders. "I think she wants to speak to you, at some point, about all of it."

"I see," Aurora said with a lump in her throat. Narcissa Malfoy had always been so important to her, yet allowed her to go to Andromeda and Ted years ago, rather than stand up to her husband and convince him to take her in. Aurora didn't regret it, but she couldn't help the twinge of resentment she felt towards Narcissa, for thinking herself entitled to speak to her about it. But she was still family, even if Aurora was starting to rethink and worry over everything she had known of her husband. "I'll speak to her at some point. We'll definitely see each other at some ball, I don't intend on missing out on society."

"Potter won't be joining society or anything, will he?" Pansy asked, leaning over. "Seeing as you have that relation. I mean, he's been raised by muggles."

"I know." Aurora sighed, frowning. In any case. She could not see Potter being interested in galas, balls, or society events of any kind. "He certainly won't be joining with House Black, I can assure you."

Satisfied, Pansy said, "You will come over to the manor some time, won't you? I know you'll be busy, but..."

"I'm never too busy for Parkinson Manor." Aurora grinned at her. "Or for you two. Promise."

The three of them curled towards each other then, hands held out, fingers linked. "Not everything has to change," Pansy said, and there was a slight nervous tremor in her voice, "does it?"

Aurora and Draco glanced at each other, the answer passing in silence between them. "Not everything," Draco agreed slowly, fingers tightening around theirs. "No."

They let go, and something more certain seeped into Aurora's bones at the assurances of her friends. They would be alright. They had to be alright.

And the Hogwarts Express rolled onwards through the sunny countryside, towards an uncertain future.

A/N: That concludes third year. The next update will be a little further away, as I'm going to take a couple weeks' break from updating, before summer and then fourth year starts. Thank you all for sticking with this fic, and I hope you enjoy what I have in store.