She and Potter largely avoided one another over the next week, apart from when they went flying. It wasn't particularly amicable an arrangement but it seemed to satisfy her father, and Aurora didn't mind Potter so much when he wasn't talking. Healthy competition didn't hurt, either, even though she would never admit to him that his flying was at all skilful.

Even so, he was dreadfully annoying and insisted on talking at the dinner table while Aurora tried to eat and ignore him. The fact that her father answered his questions seemed to astound him, and so he pestered him with them. It was like a dam had broken. Aurora had no desire to listen to such conversations — there was only so much reminiscing one could take, even if she knew her father thought he was telling them these things for her benefit, too — and often spent the evenings reading rather than listening.

Still, there were benefits. She did genuinely enjoy her father's company a lot of the time. He was a strange person to be around, and Aurora often wasn't sure how to deal with him when his memories seemed to swallow him up in the middle of a sentence, but they tried. Every day, he made a point to remember to tell her he loved her, and though at first it was dreadfully awkward and strange, once he had learned that Aurora was even more uncomfortable with such things being said in Potter's proximity and stopped doing that in front of him, it was an almost pleasant reminder. Their attitude to this new dynamic was tentative, but it worked. Her father was still recovering, anyone could see that, and Aurora was sure Potter did too. But he was trying, they all were.

Despite Pansy's invitation, Aurora did not stay the night at Parkinson House the evening before the gala, and instead promised to be there at ten o'clock sharp so that they could get ready together and catch up. This, she reasoned, meant she could avoid the sleepover sure to ensue with all the Slytherin girls and Pansy's younger cousin, as well as any potential family interrogations.

Aurora had never been a particularly light sleeper, which was just as well considering the way Gwendolyn snored. But at three in the morning, she was woken by the sound of something banging against the door across the hall, and lurched upright with her heart in her throat.

She clasped her bedsheets tightly, trying to breathe quietly as she listened. Her father had silencing charms around his room, she knew, so that meant it came from Potter's direction.

He had probably just gotten up and forgotten his glasses or something, she thought, with a tense coil of nerves in her stomach. But that had been loud, and when she listened intently, she could hear him still moving about, breathing heavily. Almost like he was panicked.

Spying on Potter would be a bad idea. But it wasn't really spying — he was in her house after all, and he had woken her up. Plus, if he had managed to lose or break his glasses, he would probably need someone competent around.

And she was curious.

Aurora swept towards her door, taking her emerald green dressing robe from its place hanging over from the wardrobe, wrapped it tightly around her, and then peered out into the wide hall between their rooms.

Potter's light was on, so at least she presumed he wasn't sleepwalking. Still, she could hear light muttering, the scratching of a quill on parchment, and then said parchment being crumpled up. Who on Earth was he writing a letter to at this time of night?

Aurora was caught between moving closer out of curiosity, and retreating back into her room and forgetting about it all. But Potter's quill stopped, and hardly a second later he had opened his own door and was staring at her, wand out and held towards her, looking as pale as a ghost.

"Black?" he said, blinking. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep." She fixed him with a glare. "You woke me up. Please lower your wand unless you intend to use it."

His face was sheepish for a second as he lowered his wand, before the expression became a scowl. "Well," he said, "go back to sleep then."

"Who are you writing to at this time of night?"

"No one." His hand went to his forehead, almost absently, and he rubbed at the spot below his fringe where she knew his scar lingered. "Doesn't matter anyway, I'm not sending it."

"I heard something bang." She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't throw anything?"

"No," he said sulkily. "I — I had a weird dream, and it woke me up and I — I tried to get my glasses but then I tripped over." His hands, she realised, were trembling. Something was wrong. She stepped closer and he stepped back, eyes widening in panicked surprise as he looked her up and down. "What are you doing?"

Aurora drew her robe tighter around herself — flushing as she realised the impropriety of their meeting — and tied it carefully. "What sort of dream?"

Potter blinked. "Why do you care?"

"Because you woke me up, and this is my house, and you look like you're going to pass out so it's obviously rattled you."

His expression was replaced by a suspicious scowl. "You don't care if it rattles me."

"No, but I'm curious as to what has managed to rattle Harry Potter." She raised her eyebrows. "Don't tell me if you don't want to. But I may know more on the subject than you think."

She likely didn't, and she knew it — she had never taken Divination, and one could only learn so much from a book — but as she turned away, Potter asked quickly, "What do you know about curse scars?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out what inspired that question.

Aurora turned back slowly. "It woke you up, did it?" He nodded.

"Sort of. I had this dream, and then I woke up, but my scar hurt and—" He glanced behind him fretfully, and then along the hall. "How heavily warded is this place?"

Aurora scoffed. "Very. My ancestors hid from Muggles, the Ministry, witch-finders, kings, one witch who really wanted to access a supply of centaur hair, their own family, other families they owed a debt to — those ancient wards are very hard to overcome."

"So no — no one could just break in?"

"No, Potter. No one could just break in. And if they did, I would have been alerted immediately." That seemed to relax him, only just. Aurora didn't know much about curse scars, in truth, but everyone knew who had left Potter that mark on his forehead. "Did you dream about him? The Dark Lord?"

Potter stared at her. "I don't know. But my scar only hurts when he's near and — but he can't be here now."

She shook her head. "No. He can't. He's gone, Potter."

"I don't know about that." His eyes were far away.

"Tell me about the dream." She took a step closer. "It might help. My father will know more about curse scars than I do, though."

Potter swallowed nervously and his eyes flicked from side to side in debate. He set himself firmly in his own doorway and said, voice shaking, "I was in this forest. It was weird. I wasn't me, I don't think. I was a Muggle. I was lost, but then I saw this snake."

"Did you speak to it?"

"Sort of. I — I knew what it said but it didn't hear me." Aurora frowned. "But anyway, I followed the snake—" brilliant plan, Aurora thought derisively "—and it led me to this hut. There were people in there, talking. Talking about — about me."

She bit back a comment about how even his dreams were self-centred, because it was clear Potter was terrified.

"They said something about a plan being put into motion. One of them said he needed more time, the other one said he was still weak. He — the first one — he sounded scared. Then they said something about a traitor, that they were still searching for him, but they wouldn't find him there. That they had to move, as soon as they were able. He said he wanted me, needed me for something. That he wanted to kill me himself. And I think— well, that had to be him."

The Dark Lord. Aurora nodded, but her head felt suddenly dizzy. "It's just a dream," she told him. "Nothing but a nightmare, Potter."

"That isn't all. The man — I, the person I was in the dream — went into the hut, and then the snake wound itself around him. Then the other man — I couldn't get a look at his face right, but he looked familiar and I don't know why — put his wand into Voldemort's—" Aurora tried to ignore the way the very word sent a chill into her bones "—hand and Voldemort turned. I couldn't see his face, and he was like a skeleton, but I know it was him. And he — he killed the Muggle man. Or me. And then I woke up and my scar—" He gestured to it, hands still shaking.

"It was just a dream," Aurora repeated faintly. "Only a dream. He's dead, Potter. You killed him."

He looked like there was something more, an awful secret he wanted to divulge. Aurora didn't want to hear any more. She wanted to turn around and barricade herself inside her room until the morning. The Dark Lord could not and would not return.

"Professor Trelawney made a prophecy," Potter said slowly. "At my Divination exam. The same day when you told us everything about Scabbers and we saved Sirius — she said that the Dark Lord's servant would return to him that night. I thought it meant Pettigrew, until you stopped him. And I — I thought that was the end of it, but what if she was talking about somebody else?"

"Like who?" Aurora demanded. "It's been thirteen years, no one would just return to him like that." She ignored the little seed of doubt in the back of her mind, Narcissa Malfoy's words about change, Pansy's complaining that her father was keeping something secret, something involving Lucius Malfoy and Lord Nott. And the insistences and protests in the news, about Azkaban and justice. "They've all moved on. Plead innocent and made a place for themselves, and none of the old accused are in any position desperate enough to try and revive him even if they could, not after renouncing him."

Potter didn't appear convinced. He merely gave her a long, hard look, and then sighed.

"I don't know who. Or how. But I can feel it."

She tried not to roll her eyes. "Well, if you can simply feel it, Potter—"

"I don't know why I thought you'd listen to me anyway," he muttered. "You're going to that thing at Pansy Parkinson's tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth, and he scoffed.

"Try and keep your mouth shut about this."

Her lip curled and she stepped back. "Trust me, Potter, you are the last person I ever want to make conversation about."

They both glared at each other for one more long moment, then turned around sharply. Potter slammed his door and Aurora closed hers with silent fury, but she lay awake for far too long, contemplating what he had revealed. But the Dark Lord couldn't return. He simply couldn't. He was dead. Everyone knew that. Potter was talking nonsense because he was paranoid and had a bad dream. They were safe. She was safe.

She had to believe that.

-*

It was something of a relief to go to the gala, but the summer heat was stifling from the moment Aurora woke up, and Potter's nervous discussion with her father set Aurora on edge. She didn't want to think that the Dark Lord could return. She told herself that Potter was talking rubbish, but her father seemed to at least take him seriously.

With that thought in mind, she felt more nervous than ever to Floo over to Pansy's front lounge, where her best friend was waiting. She let out a squeal when Aurora arrived, running to pick up her bags.

"We've been waiting for you! Oh, how are you? Is Potter as awful as always — Lucille and Daphne are waiting upstairs, Lucille says she has gossip to tell us but I said we ought to wait until you arrive, Astoria's complaining about the heat and she and Daphne have fought twice already today — you look pale, Aurora, is everything alright?"

She nodded silently. "Just warm." She couldn't tell Pansy about Potter's dream. She couldn't tell any of her friends, she realised, and it was a sickening realisation. It would be dangerous. Because if Potter did happen to be right...

"Living there is very strange," she told Pansy, deflecting, as they passed Rosebelle Parkinson, who kissed Aurora on the cheek and complimented her hair, "but it's manageable, I suppose."

"Manageable." Pansy wrinkled her nose. "That doesn't exactly sound fun, Aurora."

"Well, no, but I do beat Potter at one on one Chasers' Quidditch rather often, and I enjoy that."

Pansy smirked, "Good."

Lucille's gossip turned out to be lukewarm. One of her cousins, whom she had been visiting in France, had a new beau who happened to have a half-blood grandmother and it was causing a scandal that Aurora understood but couldn't bring herself to properly care about. She knew why the Travers family were living in France, anyway. Hiding, after Lucille's uncle had been convicted of mass murder, for the killings of the McKinnon family during the war. She had looked into the case, once determined to know the truth — but she hadn't at all liked the reality of what she found, and had tried to put it out of her mind, until now.

The second piece of gossip was only slightly more curious, though Aurora preferred to concentrate on that rather than Lucille's family — Blaise's mother was divorcing her sixth husband, which was odd only because Estelle's husbands typically died in mysterious circumstances in international waters. Aurora listened to it silently as she got ready, helping a bored-looking Astoria Greengrass to curl her eyelashes.

"But of course," Lucille said, just as Aurora pinned the last rogue strands of her hair up and out of her face, "we haven't even gotten to the story of the year yet."

Hungry, curious eyes turned on Aurora. She smirked over her shoulder. "And who says the other girls don't know?"

Lucille rolled her eyes. "They don't — but everyone wants to know what happened. You thoroughly embarrassed Cornelius Fudge."

"The Minister was doing that by himself anyway," she said breezily, rubbing rouge into her cheeks, to give herself a faint glow. She caught Lucille's frown in the mirror. "There isn't much to tell beyond that which the Prophet reported, honestly."

"But the Prophet hasn't reported what you think," Lucille pointed out, and Aurora bristled. Any of the other girls in this room, she would have given at least some of her opinion to. But not Lucille. She always pushed and pushed and pushed.

"What I think," she said slowly, turning around so that she could meet her eyes, "is that my father is innocent and the the Ministry should be thoroughly embarrassed for the way it dealt with his case, and lack of trial." Pansy shifted uncomfortably. "What I think, is that now we have this business behind us, my family is pleased to move on in society, and I do not wish to be interrogated about the subject."

"No one's interrogating you, Black."

She bit down the sour anger that rose in her throat. "Very well," she said quietly, adjusting her curls yet again and frowning in the mirror. "I think that my father was done an injustice, is that what you want to hear? He should not have been locked away in Azkaban, and certainly not without trial."

Lucille hummed lightly. "And what about Fudge? What about the Assembly — I mean, he isn't going to be welcomed back, is he? He isn't here. But Pansy said you're living with him."

Aurora knew insult lay behind the words. That Lucille did not see her father as a part of their society any longer, and why would she?

Pansy looked sheepish when Aurora caught her eye — but it wasn't a secret, and it wasn't her fault that Lucille was pushing her so. "We shall see," was all she said, with a cold smile.

Daphne and Millicent exchanged confused, uncertain glances. "My dad says he doesn't think he'll show his face," Millicent said, and Aurora raised her eyebrows. Millicent flushed. "I mean, he hasn't yet, has he?"

"He has other commitments." Pansy bit down on her lip, like she was about to say something, but looked away. "It makes no odds to me," Aurora forced herself to say. "He's my father, yes — but now we have accomplished the necessary, I don't much care what he does. Just so long as there is no more shame brought on the family."

At that, both Daphne and Lucille let out derisive laughs and something curled in Aurora's gut.

She said quietly, evenly, knowing she was playing a dangerous game and there was always a time to stop, "Personally, I'm more interested in the guest list for today. Pansy?"

Pansy shrugged. "All the usual families. My grandmother had a few extra additions, and Wesley's bringing the witch he's courting. The Carrow sisters should be here soon—"

"Brilliant," Astoria muttered, and Daphne elbowed her in the side, glaring.

"—obviously there are some Ministry people, and Father invited Lord Abbott for Merlin knows what reason." Abbott: Aurora tucked the information away to remember. He could come in useful to talk to, gauge the mood of the inherited seats in the Legislating Assembly. "Lady Caradas declined her invitation for the fifth year running." Tuts went round the room; Lady Caradas was the only woman, other than Aurora, to have inherited a seat on the Legislating Assembly, as most families preferred their men to inherit. She was known to be one of the few members unaffiliated to a particular party, and that made her a curiosity for many people — even moreso because she so rarely came out in society.

"My grandmother will want to see you, by the way," Pansy told Aurora, "don't let her bully you."

"I would never," Aurora promised.

Millicent laughed and asked, "Are you going to dance with Cecil again?"

She tried not to pull too much of a face for Pansy's sake, and because she didn't need any of the others to gossip about it. "Perhaps," she said, "though there's no arrangement."

"My mother says I have to dance with the eldest Fawley boy," Lucille told them, "Theodore's cousin — I forget his name."

"Brilliant start," Daphne said, sniffing, and Aurora hid a smirk.

"Is Nott even coming?" Astoria asked her sister, wrinkling her nose. "You said he wasn't talking."

Daphne's face fell into a scowl and she shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he will, maybe he won't."

Aurora thought of what he had said about his mother while at Merlin's Day, and felt a pang of sympathy.

"He said he would," Pansy told them, frowning, "and his siblings are all coming too — the two twins are starting Hogwarts this year, aren't they?"

Astoria roamed. "Mum's going to make me y'all to them, isn't shell

"They're perfectly nice," Daphne said, and her sister rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but they're Mum's choice, not mine. She makes me talk to everyone, and people are just so annoying! At least you guys get your own friends."

"Maybe you just don't have enough friends," Daphne quipped, and the others pretended to take no notice as her sister pulled a face.

Ten minutes later, the six of them were out into the garden, basking in the summer sunlight. The Greengrass sisters were both pretending not to notice the other's existence, and while Pansy and Millicent kept up quick, easy chatter, Aurora found herself strained and uncertain so close to Lucille. She knew that her uncle's association should not be held against Lucille, but after their conversation earlier, she couldn't help but feel on edge, wondering exactly how much Lucille knew about Aurora and about her parents.

Specifically, about her mother.

She was only too grateful when they descended towards the main clearing in the garden and Blaise came over, disrupting the strain around them.

"Lady Black," he greeted, murmuring the words into her ear. Aurora hid a smile. "Are we to still call you that now? The Daily Prophet seems to love it."

"The Daily Prophet loves anything they can sensationalise," she said drily, turning around to meet his eyes. "Much like you, Zabini."

"Touché." He winked at her, then looked around at the other girls. Astoria huffed loudly. "Anyone for a dance? I'm avoiding my mother — she's courting."

"So soon?" Pansy asked, eyebrows raised.

"You know Estelle, she loves a good bit of networking. Really, I think Corin's glad about it. See, he's over there talking to Miss Avery already."

Daphne hummed. "I hope you don't mind me saying it's a downgrade."

"Estelle would be so glad to hear you say so, Greengrass — be my first partner?"

Daphne laughed and shook her head, just enough that it wouldn't disturb her hair. "Since you asked so nicely. Astoria — don't wander off."

Astoria muttered under her breath, watching her sister go out to dance. Aurora scanned the dance clearing and the edges of it, where Lucius Malfoy stood with a cluster of Ministry officials. There was no sign of Fudge, or of Barty Crouch, but there was Madam Umbridge, alongside a rather displeased Amelia Bones — Head of Law Enforcement — who looked like she would rather hex them all than have been pulled into that particular circle, and appeared inherently suspicious of whatever Lucius was saying.

Aurora felt her nerves flutter at the idea of what they might be discussing. She engaged in strained pleasantries with anyone who approached her, which turned out to be a great many people. Some she didn't know, such as Ellison Philips, apparently a consulting Seer who offered to read Aurora's father's political fortunes — Pansy said she only got an invitation because her Aunt Hilda insisted, and no one said no to Aunt Hilda unless they wanted their knees hexed backwards — but others, such as Alasdair MacMillan, enquired as to her political affiliations, and if she was at all interested in allying the Black family with their factions in the Legislating Assembly. The assembly was, at the moment, the only one of the Three Aspects of the Ministry that the Black family had a hereditary seat on, but she knew MacMillan had a seat of his own with the Minister's Council, and his brother sat on the Wizengamot. But she was not foolish — she knew that two months ago none of these people would have touched her with a barge pole, and was cautious about either accepting or declining any offer. There were three main factions or parties out of the seven, and while Aurora's own political opinion gravitated more towards the Moderates, she could not declare a side so openly yet, nor was she willing to.

Cecil Parkinson called her for a dance, of course, and as it was his aunt and uncle's own gala, she could hardly refuse. He was as dull as always though at least not quite as patronising — something which it seemed was rather an anomaly among most of the men who wanted to speak to her tonight.

Diplomacy, she decided after two hours of this needless, fruitless procession, was exhausting. She hated having to smile at people, especially when they were annoying her. True, she was gaining a bit of a better picture of the political landscape of the Assembly, and her perceived place within it, but her friends were all happy and smiling and dancing with each other and having a jolly time, and she couldn't help but feel somewhat resentful, no matter how immature that made her. Her family reputation was more important than a few hours' worth of frivolity, after all.

Even so, she was grateful when Theodore spotted her trying to make conversation with Jacob Abbott, who was around a hundred years old and seemed to be trying to talk her into a betrothal with his eldest grandson — whom Aurora knew to be almost twice her age and an absolute creep besides — and took pity. She raised her eyebrows in a pleading look over Abbott's shoulder while his gaze had drifted to a cluster of witches by the champagne, and Theodore nodded quickly.

"If I may," he said, appearing just between them, "I believe Lady Black offered me a dance this evening, and it is getting rather late."

"Oh, my apologies, Mister Nott," Aurora said, though she had made no such offer. "Lord Abbott." She smiled kindly at the old man. "Might we continue this conversation at a later time? I believe Madam Bones is hailing you, besides."

He turned around quickly, and Aurora took Theodore's offered hand with a sigh of relief. He led her to the clearing where everyone was dancing, leading her through a waltz.

"What did Abbott want?" he asked her softly, keeping her in a steadying hold as they turned together.

"Same as everyone, I suppose," Aurora said, relaxing into his hold. "To know where my loyalties lie. Though he also seemed interested in marriage to his grandson, which is..."

"Revolting?" Theodore pulled a face. "Isn't he fifty?" She nodded, trying not to wrinkle her nose.

"I'm not a cow at a cattle market," she said, eyeing Abbott over Theodore's shoulder, "and I have no intentions of marrying anyone. Most certainly not someone like that."

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Really? Not ever?"

Aurora sighed. "Not not ever," she said slowly, even though the thought of agreeing to marriage still made her skin crawl. "But certainly not now. Besides, everyone's interested in me. Even Abbott was likely trying to gauge my interest more than making a genuine offer."

"How many propositions have you received tonight?" His lips quirked up as she groaned.

"Too many, and I don't want to recount them to you, anyway. Your job is to lead this dance and make sure you don't tread on my feet."

He feigned offense, eyebrows knitting together. "Lady Black, I would never. I may not be Blaise, but I can promise you, I am sufficient enough."

She rolled her eyes, but really had nothing to complain about. While Blaise was, as had always been the consensus among the girls, the best dance partner out of all the boys their age, Theodore was her personal favourite. He was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, easy to trust as they danced. And he was good at distracting her from political concerns, even if she would feel guilty about neglecting politics later. Still, for as long as she had a gentleman on her arm, she found people didn't try bothering her with politics quite so much. She promised herself a break of half an hour before she engaged in conversation with Lois Fawley, an old associate of Lucretia and Ignatius who also happened to be an aunt of Theodore, who assured her that he would be easily able to charm his aunt away if she proved too much.

"You know, Theo," she felt the need to point out after a moment, aware of the eyes on them, "your grandfather, I don't think will be too pleased about this."

He blinked, surprised, and his brow furrowed. "Why?" he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

"He essentially told me so himself," Aurora admitted, "at Merlin's Day, when he and the other lords spoke to me. Apparently, we are on different paths. Presumably, the difference is our blood."

"Well, I don't particularly care what my grandfather thinks of anything at the moment," Theodore admitted, and the indignant tone almost made her laugh, if she didn't remember what Daphne had said, and his earlier worries about his mother.

"Even so," she said, "I felt I ought to tell you. It was sweet of you to step in, though — thank you."

He shrugged slightly, but was quick to smooth out the motion so they could dance, and he turned her under his arm. "Just being a gentleman, Lady Black."

At his grin, Aurora had to bite back a smile. "Well then thank you for being such a gentleman, Mister Nott." She smirked, clasping his hand.

His grin faded only slightly, as he said, "He shouldn't have said anything to you, Aurora. I'm sure he was rude."

"Yes," she admitted, "but I've heard and read far worse this summer."

At that, Theodore frowned. "Like what?"

"Doesn't matter," she replied breezily, confused by the concerned look in his eye. "People will say anything if they can say it anonymously." Even at the thought, though, a lump welled in her throat. She held Theodore tighter, forcing her smile. "I shouldn't have said anything. But I suspect we should end this at one dance."

He didn't look happy at the reasoning, but nodded, as the music wound to its close.

She and Theodore reunited with the other girls and Blaise, along with Millicent and her sister Alexandrina, and the Carrow twins, at the edge of the clearing, beneath lilac fairy lights. Little wings beat against the captured air. They weren't real fairies — capture of fairies was frankly dangerous, and illegal anyway — but they were still beautiful.

Draco appeared swiftly after, just as Daphne and Astoria started to get into a debate about whether it was fair or creepy to use permanent beauty charms. He looked annoyed, but was quick to pull Aurora into a hug. To her own irritation, he had grown considerably since they'd last seen each other, tall enough that he could almost sit his chin on the top of her head.

"Hexed Potter yet?" he asked by way of greeting.

"I'm managing to rein myself in," she told him with a faint smile, "but the thought has most definitely crossed my mind." Draco grinned as he let her go, only to have Pansy lean over his shoulder, beaming. Aurora smiled at them both.

"Our parents aren't looking," Pansy whispered, "finally."

"And your father?" Draco asked, looking at Aurora shiftily. "Is it — I mean, are you two okay?"

She considered this question carefully. "I'd say it's better than I might have expected. It's still really weird, but we're getting there."

"And you're happy?" Draco asked sternly.

"Yeah." She was surprised how quickly the word came to her. "I suppose I am. It'll be nice to live with the Tonkses again next week, but I am happy there, too." It was a strange thought.

They both exchanged an tense look, then Pansy smiled. "Good. I suppose it's a step up from worrying you might be murdered, or have your soul accidentally sucked out."

She smiled breezily, but Draco didn't.

"I meant to ask," she said, feeling unsure of herself in a way she rarely felt around her cousin, "would you both like to visit sometime?"

They exchanged glances, dubious, the sort to make Aurora realise immediately what the answer would have to be. "I would," Draco said, gaze darting to his father, who was laughing with Narcissa and Lord and Lady Carrow. "But I don't think I'll be allowed. You can come to the Manor, though!"

The thought still disheartened her. Of course they wouldn't be allowed.

"I might," Pansy tried to assure her. "And I'd love to, I've never been to Norwich." She frowned, wrinkled her nose. "Potter won't be there though, will he?"

"Depends on when you visit," Aurora admitted, "if you come after the cup, he'll be gone."

"Right." Pansy still looked uncertain, even moreso as she looked back to Draco.

"I'll ask," her cousin promised. "But Father — and I mean, Mother probably won't — won't want to bring me."

"She'd be welcome," Aurora said, even feeling that it was a lie.

Draco smiled tightly, as the others turned and drew them back in. "Maybe," was all he could say before Millicent bounded over to ask about their bets on the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup Final.

The Cup Final dominated conversation as soon as the opportunity arose — and was one topic which Aurora could discuss endlessly. It would be taking place in a week's time, and the whole country was abuzz. Ireland would be playing Bulgaria, and Aurora and Draco made a covert bet of ten galleons on the outcome of the match. He backed Bulgaria, as he seemed to have adopted something of a hero worship of their main Seeker, Viktor Krum, so Aurora took on Ireland — a far more experienced team with a group of Chasers who were at the top of their game, and who played in a very similar shade of green to her own Slytherin team, which she appreciated and took as a good omen.

This year, she thought, even as she bid her friends goodbye to talk to Fawley, was already looking much better than the last. She just hoped it could stay that way.