The two girls lay in wait outside the broom shed while Potter stowed away his Firebolt. Pansy was glaring at the door, hunched behind a set of overgrown rosebushes. "How long does it take to put a broomstick away?"

"Long enough." Aurora lounged back against the bushes, ignoring her friend's disapproving look as her skirt wrinkled. There was no one else here to worry about it anyway. "Honestly, I know you think I'm obsessive about brooms, but Potter is ridiculous. He's probably in there polishing that thing."

Pansy let out a snort. "Boys and their brooms."

Holding in a smile, Aurora leaned over to look at the shed again, searching for any signs of movement on Potter's behalf. "He goes on and on about it, but he's never even heard of the Holyhead Harpies."

Even Pansy, who didn't really care much for Quidditch unless her friends were playing, knew of the main Quidditch League teams. Potter had never cared to learn about anyone beyond the Chudley Cannons. Typical, Aurora thought — the Gryffindor gets all the accolades but doesn't actually know shit.

"I'm surprised you haven't hexed him yet."

"Only because the Ministry's keeping too many tabs on the house," Aurora grumbled. "The wards should have been able to evade the trace, but they're paying too much attention, and I don't want to fuck this up."

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Your father's got you swearing more."

"Trust me," Aurora sighed, "with Potter around to annoy you, you'd be swearing more, too."

Just as she said that, and Pansy broke into a grin, the shed door creaked open a touch before pausing. Aurora hurried to her feet with Pansy, and they linked arms to walk past.

"Yes," Aurora said loudly as Potter left the shed, "I do agree that we should bring the pythons back into the dungeons. Snape's wrong about most things, but I think it'd be great fun to watch them in Potions class."

"I am out of snake charming practice," Pansy breezed, saying it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She threw a haughty look over to Potter and then sighed, flicking her hair.

"I think we should try it out on Snape first, though," Aurora said. "Just for fun."

"Or the firsties." Pansy said it in a stage whisper and Potter narrowed his eyes. "You know. Initiate them."

It was just close enough to secret that Aurora felt apprehensive bringing up Slytherin initiation, but she supposed the other houses did it too. Potter certainly looked bothered by the conversation, but also quietly disbelieving. "See who can sneak the most into Gryffindors' socks," Aurora suggested, and Potter chose that moment to break into their conversation.

"You know I probably have a better chance of charming snakes than either of you do, right?"

Both girls stopped. Aurora, who had counted on his annoyance at their crowing bubbling over, simply raised her eyebrows, amused, while Pansy drawled, "Because you are so charming, aren't you, Potter?"

"Charms the socks off all the Gryffindor girls," Aurora replied, and to equal parts horror and amusement, Pansy winked at Potter. He went red, turning away, seemingly flabbergasted.

Proving Aurora's point about Potter's lack of Quidditch knowledge, he only furrowed his brow at this comment, while the two girls giggled and headed buoyantly inside. Potter followed at a trot like a rather confused puppy.

"Gryffindor Quidditch players aren't really my type though," Pansy said, "I do like that Bulgarian Victor Krum though, the Seeker? Skeeter called him the Bulgarian Bon-Bon in the last edition of Witch Weekly. But I don't think he looks that sweet."

"I don't care to hear a word of what Skeeter has to say," Aurora reminded her, and Pansy shrugged.

"I know. I think it's all rubbish. She's an awful hack. I imagine she wrote the worst essays in school."

"Snape would have a field day with his red ink." Aurora tossed a look over her shoulder, seeing Potter following. "You know, the ink only reserved for the really awful students. Potter?"

His head snapped up and he startled forward, before stopping himself, folding his arms. "Yeah?"

"Have you ever gotten a red marker essay from Snape?"

He scowled. "Have you?"

"Oh, yes," she admitted, "plenty of times. I consider it a mark of honour, don't you?"

"We should make badges," Pansy mused, skipping slightly as she spoke. Aurora held back a laugh. "With all his worst insults."

"Such as arrogant toerag."

"Complete and utter dunderhead."

"Awful, messy hair—"

"Which is a bit unfair, because his hair is worse than anyone's—"

"Incompetent fool."

"Sticky little brat."

Potter looked between them, bemused, as if he weren't sure if they were making fun of him or of Snape. Neither was Aurora, but she felt that both was a pretty good option.

"What's your favourite thing Snape's said to you? I rather liked that time he compared you to a dung beetle." She gave a mocking, wistful sigh. "The man has such a way with words."

"What about that time he said you were too cocky for your own good, Black?"

"Well, Potter, that's happened a few times. And it doesn't have the same ring to it, odd it?" She hummed, and exchanged a falsely contemplative glance with Pansy. "Perhaps he's losing his touch."

"Someone should get him some lessons," Pansy agreed, then said with a wicked smile, "I volunteer Potter as tribute." She winked and then leaned closer to Potter to say, "Didn't someone compare your eyes to a green pickled toad? Perhaps they could get in touch, hm?"

At the mention of that long-ago valentine, Potter's cheeks flushed, but he retorted to Aurora — ignoring Pansy quite astutely — to say, "Personally I'd rather that than whoever wrote Black that awful valentine. Though I still reckon you sent it to yourself."

"You think so lowly of my poetry skills?"

Pansy cackled. "Far more likely the other way about, Potter. Do you always think of toads when you look in the mirror? I bet you do." She winked again, and Potter looked so discomfited that Aurora simply had to laugh. "Ravishing eyes, you have."

Aurora let out an unladylike snort of laughter and had to turn away to conceal it in the crook of her arm. It was clear that Potter hadn't a clue what to do with himself, and she rather liked it that way. Plus, they weren't technically being unkind — he was involved in a conversation which just so happened to place him on the back foot, and it was vastly amusing to both Aurora and Pansy.

"I don't — pickled toads don't even look like that."

"Of course they do." Pansy laughed shrilly and swatted his arm.

"Oh, yes," Aurora said, pouting. "Why, they're my favourite Potions ingredients."

Now, Potter was definitely aware of the hidden slight, and he glared at her. "Really funny, Black."

"I know we are," she sang, hopping up the front steps of the house. "You should take comedy lessons, Potter."

Pansy giggled, as they headed inside, welcoming the smell of dinner cooking.

"You should. It would make Snape furious if Potter learned to talk back even more than he does already. Not," she added hurriedly, sticking her nose up in the air, "that I at all approve of such things. But he is a bit of a bastard." She flung a look over to Potter, who looked increasingly disconcerted as she batted her eyelashes at him. "Then again, so's Potter."

"Two birds, one stone," Aurora said, and grinned as they entered the lounge.

The sight which greeted them was most surprising. Her father was stood by the couch, blinking at the two unexpected arrivals, both of whom were rather sooty and sheepish, before the fireplace.

"I can explain," Draco said, wincing, as he shook soot out of his blond hair.

Next to him, Theodore Nott coughed. "Sorry, Aurora," he said, face rather pale and shoulders up, "your cousin's an idiot."

She raised her eyebrows and then jerked her head towards Potter. Such criticism of Draco was probably warranted if it came from Theodore — but not in front of Potter. "I thought you couldn't come?" she asked Draco, and flicked her gaze to Theo. He had said in his letter that their grandfathers were meeting, and at least she thought, that was probably true. At first she had thought it a convenient excuse for Lucius Malfoy.

"They got boring," Draco said with a shrug. "I wanted to meet your father."

From the stony look on his face, her father had not been so enthusiastic about meeting Draco. A strange sense of foreboding entered Aurora, and Pansy gave her a look which indicated she shared it too. "Great," Aurora said in a strangled tone. "Nott?"

Theodore sighed. "Draco thought this would be more fun than listening to our families go on about the Assembly. I thought we should go outside, or to the library, but apparently that isn't fun enough."

"My father thinks all I should be occupied with is school and etiquette. Boring." He rolled his eyes and then turned to Aurora's father. "Anyway, now you know I am in fact Draco Malfoy, how do you do, Sirius?"

He was met with one of the most forced smiles Aurora had ever seen. "Spectacular, Draco."

When Aurora turned to Potter, she saw he had turned his most venomous glare upon Draco. Which definitely was not going to help the situation. She held Pansy's arm tightly.

"Spectacular," she said quickly. "Well, now the family reunion's underway — Draco? With me? Now!"

Her cousin needed to be debriefed right away. And she also needed to get him and Potter out of the same room, because she knew already that no good could come of them being near each other, and if they started to argue, her father would almost certainly take Potter's side. Because of course he would.

Aurora all but dragged Draco out of the room, with Theo and Pansy trailing behind them, the former most bewildered and deeply uncomfortable. Potter, at least, had the sense to stay behind.

"What are you doing here?" she asked her cousin as soon as she could, in a low whisper. "Not that I'm not happy to see you — but you said you weren't coming. Won't your father be furious?"

Draco shrugged then glanced over his shoulder at Theo who was wringing his hands. "Couldn't let you and Pansy have all the fun, now, could I? Someone needs to make sure Potter knows his place."

"That someone is me," Aurora said, rolling her eyes. "And you haven't answered my question."

"It was just rubbish." He shrugged. "Stop worrying, Theo's doing enough of that for the both of you."

Aurora shot him a flat look. "Tell me you didn't drag Nott here against his will."

"He needed out of that house," Draco shot back, in a surprisingly serious tone. "Trust me. Anyway, they were all talking drivel."

Aurora looked over her shoulder to Theo, who was talking hushedly to Pansy. As soon as he caught her looking, his face twisted into an expression which could only be described as apologetic, and Aurora tried to give him an encouraging grin in response. "Regardless, he doesn't seem to want to be here. You know you'll both be in trouble."

Draco waved a hand. "I'll get out of it soon enough. Quidditch Final's soon, Dad won't care about much when he's busy with that. It's all they're talking about."

It wasn't really a satisfactory answer, but before Aurora could prove any further, Draco was saying, "Besides, I had to see how you were doing. I reckon Theo and I've about an hour before they notice we're gone anyway, so long as none of his siblings stir up a fuss. How's Potter?"

The question came so abruptly that it took a moment for Aurora to answer. "Annoying as ever," she said, out of habit. "He seems to be trying to be less so."

Draco snorted. "Have you hexed him yet?"

"I am trying to play nice. It's a new thing."

"Obviously."

Aurora cracked a grin, then dropped her voice. "I went to the manor the other day. It all just got too much. It was stupid of me, I know. But I felt like my father preferred Potter to me, and I mean, it's obvious why, but..." She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's better now, though. Well. A little. We're hardly friends but he'll be gone tomorrow and I think I can get my father back on my side."

"Good," Draco said, then frowned. "It's stupid if he does take Potter's side. On anything. I mean, it's Potter. If I were you, I would have refused to have him."

"I wish." Aurora shook her head. "I guess I was thinking, he helped get him freed. I should do something, and it made my father happy, but." She shrugged. "It didn't really make me happy. Which is a bit rubbish."

"Mother says he's an idiot anyway. Your father, not Potter." She bristled at the tone, though his her irritation. "Though he's an idiot too, obviously, and she does know that."

"Obviously."

"She thought it'd be a good idea for me to come today, even though Father said no. She's interested just as I am, see."

"Oh."

Somehow, the cold meaning of merely 'interested' rang with Aurora, made unease trickle down her spine and something like disappointment fall through her chest.

"I mean, we had to see how you're being treated. You're in a new home and everything and Mother worries about you."

"Of course." But not enough to reach out herself. Not enough to persuade her husband to just let Draco visit like a normal person. And not enough to have reached out before now, not enough to have taken Aurora in herself two years ago. "I'm fine, Draco." There was a part of her that no longer truly wanted Narcissa Malfoy to know how she was, a part that she still knew would be eroded the next time she saw her, the next time that Narcissa became the only person she had to guide her. "It's just a process."

Draco snorted. "Do you want me to hex Potter?"

"On the contrary," she said, "I think I'd like you to get my father to like you." Draco blinked in surprise and she smirked. "Come on. You're my cousin, you're our family, obviously I want him to like you. But more than that — that's going to piss Potter off so much."

Draco grinned and put an arm around her just as Theo and Pansy caught up to them. "Potter's pissed off already," Pansy said, clearly having overheard their conversation. "It's quite fun, actually."

"And somewhat rewarding," Aurora admitted, "but don't let my dad hear your say that." She turned to Theo, who had a rather nervous look on his face, and softened her smile. "I'd say we've three quarters of an hour before Rosebelle expects Pansy to return, hm? How's about we make the most of you two's daring escape from Nott Manor?"

Theo, to her relief, chuckled. "I haven't seen your library."

Draco and Pansy groaned, while Aurora and Theo exchanged smirks, both knowing exactly the reaction such a statement would get.

"I'll give you the whirlwind tour," she promised, with a wink, "then, you can all update me on everything, away from listening ears. Goodness knows I need to find out what's all going on under my nose."

"All dreadfully boring, actually," Draco said, as she started leading them towards the library.

"But significant," Theo corrected. "Very significant. And you do need to know, probably sooner rather than later."

He took in a sigh, and Aurora got the feeling that she should really get him to the library. She forced an uneasy smile and hurried onwards, ushering the doors open.

"Watch out," she warned as they stepped inside the forest-like space, "they might throw books at your head. Draco, you're almost definitely going to receive a copy of the Black family tree. Feel free to keep it."

Even Theo seemed to perk up at the sight of the library — though Draco and Pansy were both bemused and bored — as Aurora quickly showed them the various sections and collections, and the constantly growing tree in the centre of the library from which all the shelves grew.

Then, they sat down in one of the grand bay windows, Aurora called Tippy to bring them some lemonade, and, their legs tucked beneath them and perched on various leafy and moss-coloured pillows, Draco and Theo started to tell them about their families' meeting.

"The crux of it," Draco said, in an important sort of way, "is that my father, grandfather, and Lord Nott, are all doing some very important business for Minister Fudge. My father's donating to St. Mungo's Hospital — as he always does, of course, but this year it's even more, so we can join Fudge in the Top Box at the Quidditch Cup." Pansy pulled a face, and Aurora tried to ignore her own jealousy. "Grandfather's ensuring extra grain supplies, because Fudge is having difficulties with the Muggle market again — hardly surprising, though — and Lord Nott is giving generously to the Department of International Co-Operation, because they're frightfully low on funds at the moment, and very much need their income. Of course they're all also helping with this important piece of legislation Fudge and his Senior Undersecretary — Madam Umbridge — are trying to put through, so everyone's very busy with that.

"And Theodore's father's getting an appeal."

Draco looked smug about this. Theo, on the other hand, looked to be filled with great unease and tension, barely managing a smile at the reveal. Aurora just felt cold.

"Right."

"It's all because of your father's trial, of course. There's been such outrage that it could happen to him."

"Yes," Aurora said faintly.

Really, she should have seen it coming. It was in the news, that some of the old Death Eaters imprisoned could potentially be re-tried if there was enough doubt, or enough suspicion around the process of their prosecution. But Theodore's father had been tried most thoroughly. He had admitted his crimes, refusing to go quietly. He was not the victim, and Theodore's look seemed to say that he knew it.

Aurora reminded herself that they couldn't know, that perhaps the Ministry really did think there was something to be worried about — but the timing was not a coincidence, and neither was the blatant bribery of Fudge. Then again, she thought, she had threatened to take away some of the Black family's funding for St. Mungo's Hospital, before Fudge agreed to her fathet's trial.

She tried telling herself it was different, but an uncertainty lodged inside of her nevertheless, an unease at the world.

"Well," she said awkwardly, trying to maintain a sense of neutrality while her world seemed to shake at the thought of everyone else in Azkaban, everyone else who might be transformed or let free. "I hope justice is served."

Theodore only chewed on his lip and said nothing.

Draco remained oblivious, nattering on about their families' new alliance — which discomfited not only Theodore but Pansy, too — and how good it was for his mother to see Matilda Nott, who was still apparently poorly. Theo closed up even more at that, and Aurora rather felt that even if Draco had thought he was doing him a favour by getting him out of that house, he had rather brought the house's atmosphere with him.

She let Draco and Pansy go on ahead when at last they left to return to the Floo, and she stayed back with Theo.

"You've hardly spoken," she pointed out, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry about Draco. You know he means well."

"He does now," Theo said, then winced. "Sorry. I've come to your house as a guest and I've done nothing but mope—"

"Potter does far worse, trust me." She cracked a grin. "Take a book from the library, alright? Any book." He blinked. "Well, go on. Then you'll have an excuse to come back — say I passed it on to you at the gala or something, if you need a break before we head back to Hogwarts."

Theo simply stared, then coughed and said, "Okay."

She forced a smile, as he quickly searched for a book and neatly caught one that fell from the shelves.

"Runes and Ruins," he read, "a journey into ancient magic."

"Delightful."

His smile was forced, and Aurora wrung her hands together, feeling an uncertainty in the pit of her stomach. "How is your mother?" she managed to ask, and he shook his head.

"Better than she was. But that's still not good. And with everything with my father... She doesn't..." He shot a nervous glance up the hall.

"I won't say anything," Aurora was quick to assure him. "They won't listen in."

He lowered his voice anyway. "She doesn't want him out of Azkaban. I think she's scared. But it makes my grandfather mad and..." He straightened, shaking his head. "He says she doesn't know what she's saying."

"Ah."

"It's just... He doesn't care. Sometimes I feel I'm the only one who cares, but he only thinks of me as being, well, the heir, I suppose. The next Lord Nott. Mum's the only one who just thinks of me as Theo and she—"

He broke off suddenly, voice cracking with the telltale signs of an oncoming sob, and Aurora resisted the urge to hug him, to try and do anything to comfort him. Instead she placed a hand on his arm, warm and gentle.

"I know," she told him, in the softest tone she could manage. "Trust me, I do."

"It's stupid of me to get upset. She's getting better, she's going to be fine."

Aurora had heard such things about Arcturus, but she didn't say so to Theo. "She will," she told him, "I'm sure she will, Theo." She glanced at the time on the clock — five minutes to five. "You could stay longer if you need."

"No." He shook his head, picking up the pace and striding towards Draco and Pansy. "No, it's fine. Grandfather will be furious enough if he finds out I left. I never wanted to — not that I didn't want to see you, I just — Draco got this whole idea in his head, and he's probably trying to find out where Potter is right now anyway, and I kind of got sucked along. I kind of just wanted to see a friend."

She tried to withhold a smile. "Well, I'm glad you did," she said, "even if it wasn't for long."

Even so, she felt nerves creep in, as she called her father in and bid goodbye to Pansy — with a still disconcerted Potter watching on — before Draco and Theo went back.

It seemed her father's release was going to have even more impact than she had intended. She knew it was hypocritical of her, but the thought of the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange or Gabriel Travers being released chilled her to the bone, shook her belief in their guilt. Because of course they were — but she had believed that about her father, too.

And the public, she had been quick to realise, could believe anything.

-*

A distraction from politics, however, came the very next day. The Weasleys were due to arrive and pick up Potter in the afternoon, as they were apparently travelling to the Quidditch World Cup Final in the early morning. Dora, as an Auror, had managed to obtain a later time for them to get a Portkey to their campsite, to save the inconvenience. Aurora's father spent much of the day with Potter in the garden. It was a beautiful day, and her father insisted, so with reluctance Aurora joined them outside, reading a Muggle book Gwendolyn had sent over — Pride and Prejudice. Aurora had always had an aversion to the idea of marriage, and honestly wasn't entirely taken with this Mister Darcy figure, but she did find herself reluctantly enjoying it. She would have to ask Gwen more about Jane Austen — she wasn't sure if she was a popular enough author that Potter would have heard of her, and she didn't want to ask him anyway.

It could have been a pleasant day, if she could have ignored the company. Potter's presence was a looming reminder of the gulf between her and the rest of pureblood society, of the doors of politics and negotiation that had been closed to her, leaving her on the back foot and needing to scavenge for news in the form of gossip from her school friends. She hated even more that she had felt the distance from Draco, from his thoughts and beliefs. She stewed over the issues of werewolf legislation and Death Eaters' appeals and the question of exactly how easy it was to bribe the Minister of Magic, and her mind slipped away so much so that she barely noted the afternoon slipping away from her, when really, she felt in the aftermath, Potter's departure ought to have been a cause for celebration. She hadn't even had the time to argue with him today, she had been so busy considering her best angles to get involved with whatever was such a commotion behind the scenes of the Legislating Assembly.

And then came the Weasleys.

They crashed through the fireplace at thirteen minutes past four, a time which greatly aggravated Aurora — their letter had said they would be there on the hour. The letter also had not said that Mr Weasley and Ronald would be joined by the rambunctious twins Fred and George, who were beaming from ear to ear. And, to Aurora's horror, they made a beeline straight for her and her father.

"Mr. Padfoot," they greeted, both sweeping into low bows. "Your greatest fans, sir."

Aurora rolled her eyes as her father grinned. "You must be the Weasley twins I've heard so much about."

The one closest to Aurora grinned. "All good things?"

"Suppose that depends on what you mean by good," her father said slyly. "Aurora tells me you two are quite the pranksters, and I'd count that as pretty good."

To her aggravation, they both looked absolutely thrilled. "It's only with your map that we could," said the one on the right. "It's brilliant, don't know how you did it! It even insulted Snape for us this one time, called him a slimy-haired git." Her father let out a loud laugh and Aurora's lips twitched appreciatively. "Course, Ronniekins tells us you know all about the map."

Now, whichever Weasley it was looked at Aurora. "I told you not to call me Ronniekins," muttered Weasley from where he was stood chatting to Potter.

"Even we wouldn't have nicked something from Lupin," the twin said in a whisper, ignoring his brother.

"Dungbombs and Wet-Start Fireworks work wonders," she said drily, as both twins grinned.

"McGonagall though that was us!"

"Course, she'd no evidence."

"But she acted like she knew."

"Bloody confused us, to be honest."

They turned petulantly to Aurora and she shrugged. "I'm sure you boys are used to it. And a clean record also works wonders for not getting caught. Besides, Lupin knows. You won't get detention or anything."

The twin on the left said, "Can't believe you would have done it. Funny, though."

She rolled her eyes. "It was such an inconvenience."

Her father snorted. "I can't believe you pranked Remus. He could always tell when one of us was up to something, we never managed to pull one over on him."

Aurora shrugged. "Perhaps I'm just sneakier than you. And I really don't think he expected me to have anything to do with dungbombs, in fairness." She turned back to the twins. "I suppose you two were the ones who took it from Filch's office."

"Our first year," the left twin said proudly. He was the one who spoke the most, she noticed. Was he Fred, then? "How'd you know it was in Filch's office?"

"Oh, he confiscated it when I was in seventh year," her father said. "We could have gotten it back, but by then we knew everything we needed — reckoned we could leave it behind for the next generation."

Maybe-Fred grinned. "You have our thanks, Mr. Padfoot."

Aurora tutted. "I wish you hadn't gotten your hands on it. I had no idea what to do when I realised it wasn't in Filch's office."

Maybe-Fred turned to her with a gleam in his eyes. "Did you break in there, too?"

"No." She scoffed. "I got myself in trouble, then created a distraction to get him out the way. Far less risky. Lupin rescued me from detention anyway."

The Weasley twins looked at her with new respect. "Fred!" their father called over. Maybe-Fred looked over — she had guessed his name right, presumably. "George! We have to get a move on, don't pester the two of them." He smiled kindly at Aurora, and she returned it. Arthur Weasley was alright, really. Aurora had not forgotten the kindness he and his wife had shown after Lucretia and Ignatius died.

"You're bloody brilliant," George said reverently to her father, before hurrying over to Potter and Ron Weasley, who was talking rapidly about Viktor Krum. Her father looked awfully pleased by this assessment, and Aurora rolled her eyes.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr Weasley," she said as she joined the conversation. "I hope your work's been treating you well."

He chuckled, "It's certainly been keeping me busy. And I daresay I'll have a job to do after the cup, I just hope everyone manages to keep to themselves and not make any Muggles suspicious, but that's often too much to ask."

Aurora smiled. She thought of herself as relatively good at dressing Muggle by now, certainly when Ted and Dora advised her, but most wizards had no idea what Muggles were like — she had guidance from Gwen and from the Tonkses, but the likes of Pansy and Draco and Daphne were clueless about it.

It took a long conversation between Aurora's father and Arthur about the methods of enchanting Muggle vehicles — "with the correct licensing, of course" — before they were finally on their way and Aurora could breathe. Her father sank down onto the couch, staring out the window.

A few moments later, he said, "It's going to be strange having the house empty again."

She shifted uncomfortably on the edge of her armchair. "The cup won't last too long, I'm sure," she told him, "and if you want to come we might still be able to wrangle some last minute tickets—"

"No, no." He sighed, shaking his head. "I've no interest of going to the Quidditch Cup and having half the country gawp at me for all the wrong reasons. I'd much rather be up playing than hanging about a campsite getting stared at by little kids. And besides." He room in a reluctant breath, like he didn't want to believe what he was saying. "It's like Tonks said, I'm better off keeping a low profile for a while, rather than inviting people's hatred. Besides." His smile twitched. "You'll have fun. I'll be alright here, really. Might have Remus over."

"Good," Aurora said. "I'm sure you two want to reconnect without Potter and I getting in the way. And after that, I'll visit you, too, it's not like I'm just going to leave you."

"I know." He smiled again, more convincingly this time. "I'll find something to occupy my time anyway. The motorcycle could do with some more modern modifications."

Good, Aurora thought. He could use a distraction, something to do instead of muse on the past and worry about the future. Perhaps she needed it too.

Andromeda, Dora and Ted joined them for dinner before Aurora was to head back home with them. Tippy made a wonderful lasagne for dinner with meringue and ice cream for dessert and they ate outside in the warm evening sunlight, discussing the cup and Dora's work and how absolutely furious Umbridge was, and how Mad-Eye Moody was apparently taking the word retirement seriously at last, and taking a year to teach at Hogwarts before moving quietly to Mallorca.

"I can't imagine it sticking," Dora admitted, "Mad-Eye isn't really the type to lie on a beach sipping martinis."

"I can imagine him with one of those fruity cocktails," Aurora's father said with a wry smile, "and a little pink umbrella sticking out the top."

Dora snorted and the others all laughed. "He'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts then?" Aurora asked, though it was a bit of a useless question.

"Yup. Favour to Dumbledore apparently."

"Thank Merlin. I don't know what we'd do if we ended up with another idiot like Lockhart or Quirrel."

"He'll be tough," Dora warned, "but he's a fair teacher, too, and he knows what he's doing. You'll like him, I think."

Aurora smiled to herself, digging into dessert. "Can't be worse than Lockhart and Quirrel. But I'm sure Lupin'll still be everyone's favourite."

Dora grinned. She had only met Professor Lupin twice before, but Aurora got the impression that she did rather like him. "Don't speak too soon," she said. "That's all I'll say."

"You'll certainly be in for an exciting year, all things considered," Ted put in, and he, Dora and Andromeda caught each other's eyes and grinned in that knowing, annoying way.

Aurora's father turned to her for explanation, and she shook her head. "They keep hinting at this," she said, sending Dora a playful glare. "They know something I don't."

"I'm sworn to secrecy," Dora sang, smirking. "You'll find out soon enough, munchkin."

Aurora resolved to wear her down. If there was an Irish victory as hoped, they'd all be very pleased and therefore more susceptible to tell her what the hell was so interesting about this year at Hogwarts.

It was over almost too soon. She hadn't expected to feel apprehensive about leaving her father, but the look on his face when she made to do so gave her pause. He hugged Andromeda tightly, and she told him to look after himself, which only made him laugh. But Aurora thought it was a very reasonable thing to say.

Aurora let Ted and Dora take her things back through the Floo and then turned to her father. His eyes were suspiciously misty.

"It isn't like I'm disappearing off the face of the earth," she reminded him pointedly.

He laughed and brought her in for a fierce, tight hug. "I know, Aurora. It's just going to be strange. I know it's only been two weeks, and I know it hasn't all been great, especially for you... But I wish we had longer. I want to understand everything that's going on with you. Maybe — we could take more time, after the cup? You can stay with me for a bit again, just me, or we can do something, go somewhere. Anywhere you want. Though maybe not Antarctica."

Aurora smiled, despite herself. "I'll come back," she said, "for a few days, at the end of Summer. I want to, you know. Know you better. Even now."

He nodded in understanding. "I know. This isn't all going to work out overnight, is it? But I do really want it to. So, you have fun at the cup. See your friends, and then tell me all about it, every last detail that interested you, that made you smile or laugh. I want to hear everything from you, alright? Just don't get hit by a Bludger, please. Happened to me once at a Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match, and it hurt."

Aurora chuckled, and he released her.

"Stay safe," he told her softly, as they moved towards the fireplace, and Aurora rolled her eyes.

"It's only a Quidditch match," she said drily, "what's the worst that can happen?"