The Vaiseys' dinner that Saturday was so dull Aurora strongly considered pretending to take ill and leaving halfway through so that she didn't have to hear another word about Ernie MacMillan's grand plans to revolutionise fucking grain importation. It was, it seemed, a plan of his late father's, which he decided had to be carried out simply for the sake of his memory. Aurora did not care enough about grain importation to know if it was a good idea or not, only that Lord Vaisey's to support it in exchanged for Ernie's support "in like" whenever he wanted it seemed a rather stupid deal.

She got little out of it, other than a brief ten minutes when she and Leah escaped to the garden between the main meal and cheese course, and a hollow promise of loyalty from the Vaiseys. Loyalty meant little when she did not even know what she wanted from any of them. The Muggle liaison bill had hit a dead end, and they either needed to find a way around it or try another angle entirely.

Unfortunately, everybody else seemed to have decided it was a lost cause. "The Assembly has spoken," was Vaisey's grim conclusion when Ernie brought it up, needled by the loss of his father's legacy, "it is time to prioritise other work."

"I thought the bill was important," Ernie had responded, cheeks flushed. "My father thought so."

"It was," Lord Vaisey agreed, "to us, his friends, but clearly, not important to the rest of the country. As for now, we must look to the future — to progress in the war. The Ministry must be united."

The Ministry had to be fixed, Aurora thought to herself, trying hard not to catch anybody's eye. As the other lords turned so easily to the fruitless game the Auror department was playing of cat and mouse, catching anyone they thought a suspect and barely giving them a trial, all she could think was how utterly pointless this was, and how absolutely unqualified they all were to sit around, discussing politics as though it were all some game, the war as though it were a hypothetical, ignoring just how deeply it had already touched their table. When other people were dying, being tortured, and it would continue on and on until they got their shit together. This war seemed to be just another point in the long story of their society, a minor disruption, a wrinkle, not the inevitability she saw it as.

They talked about upcoming balls and the hunting trip Lord Edris was hosting for the Minister next week, and Griffiths' daughter's engagement, in between bursts of grandiose ideologuing that left her feeling more hollow than ever. Hollow words of support for Muggleborns and squibs that had already been dropped when it was too difficult for them; talk of how the evil of Voldemort must be defeated, so the world could return to normal, as if it had been perfect before. As if Voldemort was the only cause of all this unrest, and not a symptom of a disease these very families had allowed to fester.

She was beyond glad when the table broke after pudding, trickling through to the parlour. She latched back onto her dad's arm, as he whispered, "That was a load of shit, wasn't it?"

Aurora bit back a smile. "Keep your voice down," she chastised, "but, yes, it was rather."

"What did you think of Vaisey dropping the bill?"

She sighed, lowering her voice. "I wish I could be surprised. To be honest, I don't think any of them really know what they're aiming for, or why. As a party, they're focused on the war — which is good," she clarified, "I just don't know if anyone wants to really look deeper into what's going on. It's like, they've been campaigning for years for better quality of life for Muggleborns and squibs and for other magical creatures, sometimes, but now this is taking up all the energy."

"In fairness," her dad said, "the war's pretty bloody important."

"Yes, obviously. But they've decided to just blindly follow Scrimgeour, all because he's not Fudge, and is vaguely leaning towards the Progressives, even though, I thought they were meant to be pushing for justice reform before all this and now, they seem to think it's fine that the Ministry's just throwing whoever they like in Azkaban without even a trial!"

She took in a breath, catching her voice as it threatened to rise. Her dad gave her a firm, appraising look. Then, a small, slow smile. "You want to make a quick exit?"

"I want them to get their heads out of their arses," Aurora muttered, and he let out a bark of laughter, tossing his head back. "It's just frustrating. They invited me here, and Ernie, but they won't actually act on anything we say. We're just decoration. It's why Vaisey's terribly bitter about Harry not being able to come. He doesn't want to hear him speak, but having the Chosen One — alleged chosen one — at his dinner?"

Her father snorted. "I could've told you that, Aurora. All this is is posturing." He glared in the direction of Vaisey and Griffiths, who were settling down with a bottle of port, then at the clock on the mantel. "We'll stay until ten? Forty-five minutes seems a decent length of time."

Aurora wanted to escape sooner, and she could tell her dad did too. But it would be horribly impolite to just disappear straight after dinner, and anyway, Leah was giving her such a pleasing look from across the room, trapped between her brother and Felix, Aurora could not abandon her.

"Fine," she said. "You should talk to the lords." He grimaced.

"I hate port."

"I'm sure you can convince someone to summon a whisky," Aurora said, rolling her eyes.

"—oh, and of course Malfoy won't have a word to say—"

"What's this?" Aurora asked, catching the conversation of the lords from across the room. Leah sent her a desperate look which she ignored. "You're discussing the new Lord Malfoy?"

Vaisey and Griffiths looked uncomfortably between one another. "All rumour, Lady Black," Vaisey told her. She raised her eyebrows. "Lord Edris heard some rumour the other day, about the family fortune."

"The Ministry's conducting raids into the homes of all recently captured Death Eaters," Edris told her in a smooth accent, "as you know. But my wife heard it from Llysa Greengrass, that in light of the investigation into Fudge's bribery case, most of their assets have been confiscated. There's a suggestion they may lose the manor." Aurora sucked in a breath. The Malfoys had too many properties to count, all of them flashy and sprawling, but the manor was their jewel. If they were letting it come under threat, things must be bad.

She relished the thought of the look on Narcissa's face when she realised the life her husband had built was crashing down around them, and of Draco when he discovered just how the tides were going to turn against them. Trying to hide her smugness in her smile, she said, "I'm sure the Malfoys will struggle on." At last, though, the Ministry might be putting some justice into the world. "Though I doubt, unfortunately, that they are the only ones whose money turns the Ministry."

Griffiths, she noted, glanced away at that, and took a deliberate sip of his port. She looked up, to Leah, and her desperate look, and nodded. "I'm afraid Miss MacMillan is hailing me — I shall speak to you all later."

"What was that all about?" Leah asked when she reached her side, turning to hand over an illicit glass of white wine.

"The Malfoys' impending financial ruin," she said cheerfully, sipping on the sweet wine. "It seems bribing a failed leader and then being imprisoned in the dying days of said leader's administration, can have consequences sometimes."

Leah snorted. "Bet he's the only one facing those consequences. There'll be a hundred more like him."

"Well." Aurora shrugged. "Probably."

Leah glanced at her sideways, a frown on her place. "Are you glad about it? The Malfoys thing?"

"Of course." Aurora blinked, surprised — and a little offended — that she even had to ask. "It's what they deserve."

Her friend gave her a look she could not decipher, except that it seemed doubtful. That she would doubt her in this made Aurora's skin crawl. "Good," Leah said eventually, still watching her, as though searching for a hint of weakness or uncertainty. "You're right. It's what they all deserve — nothing but absolute ruin." She looked her in the eye with firm, fierce resolution. "All of them."

-*

A week later, the end of the holidays were approaching and Aurora found herself back in the Leaky Cauldron. It had changed almost beyond recognition since she had last passed through, near empty and hung with shadows, those few patrons who dared to linger whispering to one another with darting, nervous looks. The group she appeared with did nothing to ease anybody's anxieties; herself, her dad, Harry and Elise, with Molly, Ron, and Ginny Weasley, plus Hermione, Hagrid, and a host of Aurors, including, to her relief, Dora.

Their booklists had arrived just two days after the Vaiseys' dinner, and for her and Harry, there had been an extra surprise. For with their letters came the information that they were to be made Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch Captains, respectively, complete with badges and prefects' privileges. It was the most excited Aurora had allowed herself to be in months, with the heady rush of victory — over Draco, over everybody who had not wanted her even on the team in the first place. Her father had been so proud she thought he was going to crush her in a hug.

Diagon Alley's appearance, however, was more than enough to dampen her spirits. Quality Quidditch Supplies, her favourite store, was only just struggling to stay open, all but one window broken and boarded up; Florian Fortescye's Ice Cream Parlour was closed, its pastel pink and mint green paint charred brown and black; even Ollivander's was closed now, and from the looks of it, had been raided severely. Wanted posters hung from every doorway and flickered in the wind. The street was near deserted, and those few shoppers who did brave the outdoors scurried from shop to shop like mice running from the housecat.

"It's so quiet," Elise said as they meandered past closed stalls and dodgy wizards selling odd talismans and amulets, crooning out of the shadows, hands clutching at their group like claws.

"We'll be quick," Aurora assured her little cousin, who was frowning as she stared around. "Don't worry — we're all perfectly safe with my dad and all the Aurors."

"I wasn't worrying," Elise said, looking up at her, "'til you told me not to."

Aurora swallowed tightly and gripped her shoulder, steering Elise onwards in line with the others. She knew it was too dangerous to bring Elise's family with them, for their own safety, in case they were targeted, but she felt certain the girl would have been more reassured by their presence than by anybody else.

"We'll go to Madam Malkin's first," Aurora decided. "Then Flourish and Blott's, then—"

"I was thinking Wiseacre's," Molly Weasley said, and Aurora held back a glare.

"There's too many of us to all cram into one place together," Aurora's dad said. "How's about I take this lot—" he gestured to Aurora, Harry, and Elise "— and you take yours, and we'll meet up at the joke shop?"

Molly Weasley frowned. "I'd really rather Harry came with me."

"I'll go with them," Dora said. "Each group's got an Auror, that way. And Hagrid can join us."

Hagrid looked very pleased by this suggestion, and beamed at Dora. Molly scowled. "Fine. We'll meet at the boys' shop at one o'clock, no later. Hagrid — keep them out of mischief."

Her father and Dora wore identical scowls. Aurora imagined hers was similar. First of all, Hagrid was the last person to be able to keep them out of mischief; second, all of them resented the implication that they had to be kept out of mischief at all. "We'll go to Madam Malkin's first," Aurora's dad said, as though this conveyed particular authority. "Elise needs fitted for new uniform. Come on."

"One o'clock," Molly yelled as they turned and departed, Elise frowning back at her.

"She seems annoyed," she said, and Aurora laughed.

"She is. She's alright though, sometimes, really."

"I guess now she knows I'm not dying she's happy to criticise me again."

"Mrs Weasley's nice," Harry defended to Elise, and Aurora rolled her eyes. "She's just overprotective. She wants to be everyone's mum."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Elise shrugged and skipped on, towards the robe shop. Aurora shook her head, but none of them had the willpower to argue with Harry on this one, so they followed her quietly, until they arrived at the robe shop.

"I won't be able to fit inside," Hagrid said, with a wince, "but I'll stand guard outside."

"Subtle," Aurora and Dora said at the same time, and then glared playfully at each other.

Her dad rolled his eyes and strutted in the door, ushering the kids through. "Think someone else is already in here," he said over Harry's head, "but we'll wait."

"Hey," Aurora said to Elise, catching her hand, "want to have a look at dress robes? I know you didn't get to see them properly last time we were in."

"Oh, please!" Elise said, eyes lighting up. "I want ones like the purple ones you showed me the picture of from that school ball!"

"We'll have a look then — though Andromeda got me those from Twilfitt and Tafflings—"

"—not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother." The sound of Draco's voice cut off Aurora's instantly, and her heart turned cold, plummeting. "I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

For a split second, Aurora contemplated following the sound of Draco's voice back to the other room. Part of her wanted to see him, and the effect recent weeks had had on him. But she stopped herself, turning back to Elise.

"Come on," she said, taking her hand and leading her to the rack by the window. "Here, something like this is pretty, isn't it?" She picked out a set of cornflower blue robes, the bodice covered in whorls of sequins, the skirt a light, shiny silk.

"I like this pink," Elise declared, reaching over to a frilly, sparkly set that made Aurora immediately think of Pansy. She pushed the thought aside, forcing a smile that came out as more of a grimace.

"That'd suit you. You could try them on, once you've been re-fitted—"

Draco strode suddenly out from behind another rack in glittering green robes stuck through with silver pins, making a beeline for the mirror. He stopped in his tracks, turning to Aurora with wide, startled eyes. His gaze darted between her and Elise and then across the room, to Harry and Dora and her father.

"I thought I heard a familiar voice," he said with a sneer, raising his eyebrows. "Mother, look who it is! We've a family reunion out here!"

Aurora stepped instinctively in front of Elise, heart thumping. "And I heard your whining," she said softly. "Suppose your father isn't here to join us?"

"Aurora." Narcissa's cold voice made her turn, and she heard her dad take in a short, startled gasp. "What a pleasure, as always." Her gaze swept across the store, and a cold smirk curved her lips. "I see what Draco means. You look well, Sirius. For a moment there we were all very concerned about you."

An angry flush grew over her father's cheeks as he strode forward, laying his hand on Aurora's shoulder in quiet warning. "Narcissa," he said, more diplomatically than she had ever thought him capable of. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Still hanging out with Potter, are you?" Draco sneered at Aurora, face twisted in mockery. "Surprised you didn't bring the mudblood along with you." He glanced at Elise. "Although, I suppose, squib-born's close enough."

"Say that again," Aurora drawled, taking a step closer, "I dare you. The Daily Prophet is just waiting for a new twist in the tale of the Malfoys' misdeeds."

A momentary fear, uncertainty, flickered in Draco's eyes. Aurora forced a cold, mocking smile. "You won't get away with it, you know. You'd better watch your back — all of you."

"Or what?" Harry snapped, stepping forward. "Leave her alone, Malfoy."

"Oh, protective, are we, Potter?" He laughed coldly, and looked to Aurora. "How cute. Suppose you're in need of some friends — even if it is Potter." He shrugged. "At least he's not got any parents left for you to get killed."

The words stung, and she was reminded with a visceral slap how Leah's face had twisted with grief at the funeral, how everything about her seemed to have changed overnight.

"That's enough," Aurora's dad cut off, a protective growl in his voice. "Narcissa—"

"Let us go, Draco," she said, looking down her nose at them. The act made Aurora's blood boil in anger — who did she think she was, acting like this, when once she had been Aurora's whole world, the woman she looked up to the most? "Twilfitt and Taffling's will have a much better…" She faltered, staring across the room, and Aurora turned, following her gaze to Dora, who was stood with arms folded and fury on her face — her face, which looked more like Andromeda's than it ever had. Narcissa's face paled, and she gripped Draco's arms tightly.

Time seemed to slow, and the world compress into just the space between them, a twisted and torn family, incapable of speech to heal the rifts between them all. Aurora's dad tightened his grip on her shoulder; Aurora clasped Elise's hand again, leaning away from Draco.

"Looking at something?" Dora asked at last, eyes flashing with challenge.

Narcissa swallowed tightly, tilted her chin, and turned away. "Madam Malkin! We are leaving! These robes are not suitable for my son."

They both flounced into the back in the exact same way, and the knot in Aurora's stomach undid itself. She let out a breath of relief, and dropped Elise's hand, shuffling back towards Dora. When they left a moment later in a whirl of haughty irritation, Aurora caught Narcissa's eye and, just for a moment, thought she was hesitating, as if she was about to say something. But no words would fit them now, and she left, in the open silence, and Aurora tried to suppress the twist in her heart of bitter nostalgia with a neutral, stony expression.

Once they had left Madam Malkin's with their new robes — including a set of sapphire dress robes Aurora had bought Elise, in case she needed them — Aurora kept her eyes peeled for any signs of Draco. It wasn't that she wanted to speak to him, it was anything but. There was just a sort of masochistic urge in her to see him, to feel the bitter sting of betrayal and hurt and the corruption of fourteen years of friendship, as if to remind herself that it was real.

They met with the Weasleys and Hermione at the joke shop. Aurora loitered by the door with a scowl, doing her very best not to appear impressed with the place. She did not want to make Fred and George think she was forgiving them for what had happened to Graham, nor did she want to reckon with why they had done it. There was too much of that, too much pain and conflict filling her head and her heart. It was overwhelming.

She kept an eye on the window and the street outside. It seemed darker, somehow. She supposed some of the streetlamps might have gone out, and the storefronts vanished. Everyone still hurried to and fro, watching their shoulders afraid of the person who might just brush up against their robes.

Some of her classmates were there. Pansy, for a moment, stepping out of Flourish and Blotts; Clarissa Drought hurrying up to join the long queue at the front of Gringotts. No sign of Theo. She was glad of it; she wasn't sure that her heart could take it.

"Aurora!" Ginny's voice interrupted her people-watching, and she turned, eyebrows raised. "Have you seen the pygmy puffs?"

"Yes. They're quite cute, aren't they?"

"They're adorable, I'm trying to make Mum let me get one, come back me up!"

"Surely the boys will just give you one?"

"Probably — though don't tell Ron, I think they're charging him double for everything he looks at — but Mum thinks they look like discoloured rats."

Aurora had to laugh at that, and allowed Ginny to drag her off into the middle of the store for a look. There was something sweet about their appearance, round and fluffy and pink, but she could also see Molly's point. "What do they do?"

"They're cute."

"Oh. I suppose that's fair enough. Good for them."

"Come on, Mum," Ginny pleaded with her mother, wide-eyed, "they're so sweet, look! And they're low-maintenance, Fred said, I wouldn't have to do much! Aurora agrees!"

Aurora shrugged as Molly turned a disappointed gaze on her. "They are cute," she said flatly. "And it's a nice shade of pink — my favourite, actually."

"See?"

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'll think about it, Ginny, why don't you go and find the others?"

"Mum…"

Aurora took the moment to slip away from them again, in search of Elise, but Harry caught her first. "Did you see Malfoy?"

She blinked at him, momentarily confused. "In Madam Malkin's? Oh — he's in here?" She had trouble imagining her cousin giving any business to the Weasleys.

"No, no, outside! Heading down Knockturn Alley, we're all going to follow him, are you coming?"

"I…" She floundered for a moment. She did not want a part in any of Harry's schemes, but she also wanted to know what Draco was doing. Curiosity twisted in a hold over her mind. If he was going down Knockturn Alley, she imagined, he wasn't up to anything good. It was another thing she could hold over him, more proof that she was right to cut herself away from him. "Right now?"

"Yeah. Come on, get under the cloak, or we'll lose him. We have to crouch, it won't cover all four of us."

She hesitated a moment, but then glanced at the window, remembered how he had spoken to her in Madam Malkin's. The way he had looked at Elise. "Yes, alright, but I want to tell my dad." A loud sigh from an invisible person, presumably Ron. "He'll worry if we disappear. Just give me a minute."

She hurried over to him, hearing the faint patter of three pairs of feet behind her. "Hi," she said quickly, over his shoulder, as he inspected some black powder, "I'm just popping through the back for a moment, with Harry and the others, we'll only be ten minutes."

He looked at her with suspicion. "Where are you really going?"

"We'll be fine."

"Aurora."

"Knockturn Alley — but we've got the cloak and there's four of us, and if you insist on coming then you'd better come now because we're following Draco."

With a sigh, her dad ran a hand through his hair and looked out the window. "Some things never change, do they? Listen, I'll disillusion myself, we'll never get all of us under there. Go, if you must."

Aurora grinned with relief and ducked under the cloak with Harry, Ron and Hermione. They hurried out of the door as quick as they could, Harry guiding Aurora by the shoulders down after Draco. "You're sure he went this way?"

"Positive. Come on and be quiet or we'll lose him."

Aurora pursed her lips, annoyed, but crouched and continued down the alley, searching every direction until she spotted, through the crowded displays of skulls and cursed jewels in the window of Borgin and Burke's, her cousin's distinctive white-blond hair. "Stop — that's him, there," she whispered.

"Borgin and Burke's. What's Malfoy doing in Borgin and Burke's?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she hissed, crouching down against the opposite wall to watch. As Ron unfurled what appeared to be an upgraded Extendable Ear, she said to Harry, "Malfoy Manor's full of Dark artefacts, I bet he's getting rid of some. Or he's having to sell them off — the Malfoy fortune's been seized, because of the bribery case with Fudge. They'll lose thousands, and I think Draco knows it."

He eyed her warily at that, but nodded, and leaned into the ear Ron held out for them. "I can't," Draco was saying, "it's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to fix it."

Something in that old manor must be going haywire without Abraxas and Lucius around, and Draco the interim lord. If he and his mother were the victims of one of their own curses, Aurora thought, they would probably deserve it. Still — she didn't like the image that came into her mind of them, afraid and pale and dead from their house's own hubris.

"…it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" Draco said, and Aurora was sickened to recognise the sneer in his voice as her own. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

Aurora craned her neck to try and see what he was doing, showing to Borgin, but the cabinet in front of Draco kept him from view. Perhaps he was bribing him — but with what? Next she knew, Borgin was staring at Draco like he had been set upon by a vampire. "Tell anyone," she heard Draco say, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback?" Aurora's blood ran cold at the name. "He's a family friend." A lie. Lucius despised Greyback, a known, bloodthirsty werewolf. What had happened to make Draco think he might be an ally? "He'll be dropping in from time to time. Just to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention." His voice was silky smooth and cold, just like his father's. It made Aurora want to cry and she didn't even know why, but just that comparison felt like a knife to her heart, tearing away yet another familiar piece of childhood.

"Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe. I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not… sir."

Borgin bowed deeply, the sort of bow only afforded to a lord, and Aurora breathed in sharply, trying to hold back the growing dread in her chest. "Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother — understand?"

"Naturally, naturally."

Aurora scrambled back and pulled the others with her, and a moment later the door swung open and Draco came out, a smug grin on his face. On instinct, she made to rise and follow him, but she held herself back. It would be foolish to reveal herself in Knockturn Alley, but she wanted to follow further.

"Do you know what that was about?" Ron asked her in a whisper.

She answered with a sharp, unamused glare. "No. Why would I? Draco and I aren't friends."

"No, I know, but you do know him. You've got a better idea what that means than we do."

He did have a point, not that she would want to concede any ground.

"I don't know. It could be innocent — well, not innocent, but, not awful."

"He wants something fixed," Harry said, "but what?"

"It could be anything, really. Perhaps something that can't be taken out of the manor, something ancestral… I know a lot of families have rituals, to induct their new lords, perhaps he has to do that — Hermione, what are you doing?"

She had just ducked out from under the cloak with only the words, "Just trust me," and then disappeared into the shop, humming cheerfully to herself.

Aurora slumped against the wall. "What is she doing?"

"I think she's going to ask Borgin about it."

"I gathered that, but she's an idiot if she thinks she's getting anything out of it."

"Hermione's not—"

"That's not what Aurora meant," Harry said quietly. "Both of you, shush."

Without looking at either boy, Aurora picked up a string of the Extendable Ears and listened as Hermione asked, "So it's for sale, then? It isn't being, um, kept for anybody?"

Aurora cringed. From the look on Borgin's face, he knew exactly what Hermione was up to. It would far from be the first time he had somebody try and poke their nose into whatever another customer had been buying, or selling. "The thing is," Hermione continued, stumbling over her words, "that boy that was in here just now, Draco Malfoy, well, he's a friend of mine and I want to get him a birthday present—"

"Draco's birthday's in June, for Merlin's sake," Aurora hissed under her breath.

"—but if he's already reserved something, I obviously don't want to get him the same thing, so… um… well…"

"Out," Borgin snapped at her, eyes flashing. "Get out, now!"

Hermione did not wait to be told twice, hurrying from the shop with bright red cheeks. Ron hastily reeled the extendable ears back in, and as soon as Borgin's back was turned, Aurora grabbed her hand and tugged her back under the cloak.

They stood, carefully, as one. "That was stupid," Aurora told her in a hard whisper. "No young witch is going to be wandering about Knockturn Alley on her own, not in these times, and certainly not looking cheerful about it. And you were so obvious about it — if you wanted someone to go in, I could've done it much—"

"Oh, do be quiet, he would've known your face in a second," Hermione snapped, and Aurora blinked in surprise.

"I'm just saying," she said, nettled by the truth in her words. "And it could have put you in danger, too, going in there alone."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're so concerned about my well-being," Hermione retorted, cheeks red.

Aurora merely raised her eyebrows and kept looking ahead as they hurried back up the alley. Her dad was waiting at the entrance to Diagon Alley, and Aurora carefully reached out a hand to him to gesture that he come with them. He sighed, but went on ahead to the joke shop, where Mrs Weasley was flapping about worried about where they'd gotten to.

"Molly," he said, just as they took off the cloak, "we're all here, see — I told you we had to run back to the apothecary, remember? Aurora forgot to pick up the horned slugs."

"You never told me that!"

"You were looking at Pygmy puffs," he lied, "must have gotten distracted — oh, I see Ginny got it, though! It's a nice thing. Quite rat-like, though, I'm not so much a fan of that."

Aurora suppressed a laugh. "It's not funny," Molly told them all sharply, "times like these, anything could have happened."

"But nothing did. The kids are all fine. Come on now, if we're all done, we'll get a spot of tea at mine before you all head home, how does that sound?"

-*

It was only once everybody had left Arbrus Hill that evening that Aurora and Harry got to tell her dad exactly what they had seen and overheard in Knockturn Alley.

"It is suspicious," he said once they had finished their story, "but it doesn't have to be connected to Voldemort like you think, Harry."

"There's a pretty good chance though, right?"

"Well…" He grimaced in Aurora's direction. "Yes."

"I bet he's one of them," Harry blurted out, and Aurora turned to stare at him.

"One of what?"

He shot her a withering look. "A Death Eater, obviously. Look, his dad's in prison — maybe he wants to take his place."

Narcissa wouldn't allow it, was her first thought. He was only sixteen; it was too dangerous, and after what had happened to Lucius, she doubted she would let her son take the same risks. Unless they didn't have a choice.

"I doubt Draco has many skills Voldemort would need to make use of," she said coldly, not wanting to entertain the idea. Draco had always wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, in whatever he did. But not this. Not yet. If he had already signed himself over to Voldemort, there was no coming back. It was too late. "He's only sixteen," she reasoned. "He's still at Hogwarts."

"Maybe he wants someone at Hogwarts."

"He has Snape."

"Maybe he doesn't trust him." There was such conviction on Harry's face that she thought he might know more than he was letting on. But he didn't expand on that.

"Maybe. But I don't know. And whatever he and Borgin were discussing, it doesn't have to be connected to that. There are plenty Dark artefacts kicking about Malfoy Manor, just as there are at Grimmauld, and I don't think Draco knows what to do with all of them."

"I agree," her dad said, and she flooded with relief. "It sounds like he was talking about something in his own possession."

"Yeah, but Borgin had something, too — he said he'd keep the other one there."

At that, her dad frowned. "I don't know. Maybe he's buying a counter-curse, or replacing something gone bad. There are so many possibilities. But…" He paused. "If that was the case, that this is about family curses or something, why would he be hiding it from Narcissa? She would know far more."

"Pride," Aurora said, but it didn't feel right. Draco had always wanted to prove himself, but if there was something wrong, Narcissa would make it her business to know and get involved. It wouldn't be such a secret. "Maybe. I don't know! I don't think he's a Death Eater."

"Why not?" her father asked, and the question pinned her to her seat. What she wanted to say was: because I don't want him to be, but that was a useless answer.

"He's too young," she said weakly. "And he hasn't proven himself."

"Maybe this is him proving himself," Harry said, and her stomach turned. "You can't say it isn't something he'd want to do? He clearly worships Voldemort, and his own father."

"Yes, but…" But what? That she just wanted to keep believing in him, that he could find some way to be good, that she could fix him and everything would go back to the way she had believed it once was, when she was naive. "We can't assume anything. When we get back to school, I'll see what I can find out." Pansy would know. If Draco had a secret, she would be the first person he told, and if he had a mission from Voldemort himself, there was no way he would be able to stop himself bragging about it for long. "He'll let something slip. I'll keep an eye on it."

But Merlin, if he really was a Death Eater, already, there was no coming back from it. No way for him to change his mind, no way for them to reconcile, and even after all this time the thought of that made her throat close up in panic. It felt like she was losing another piece of him to time and the distance between them, ever-growing.

And she could not even bring herself to be surprised, to truthfully protest. That was just who her cousin had become. If he wasn't a Death Eater yet, it was almost certain that he would join up, in time.

She had to better prepare herself for that eventuality.