Unsurprisingly, waking up that morning was a struggle for all of the adolescent witches and wizards who resided in 12 Grimmauld place. The adults, who were oblivious to their activities that night, showed no mercy and practically resorted to shaking them awake by their shoulders.
Aurora specifically remembered Mrs Weasley questioning the amount of sleep they all received, she then proceeded to ask if they had thrown a party, to which Rory thought something like that. Aurora, at the time had chuckled at Mrs Weasleys, not completely incorrect, prediction.
Rory, dressed in a pair of mum jeans, a pink short sleeved polo, with her hair thrown into a messy ponytail, made her way onto the train.
Not without a heartwarming farewell hug from Sirius, and a kiss on the forehead from Molly.
To her surprise and pleasure, Aurora had found an empty compartment. She loved her friends to pieces but couldn't find it within herself to tolerate the pitiful glances or random hugs they had been providing her with all morning.
That was the main reason she kept her mothers death a secret, she didn't want pity. She wanted her mother. Everyone acting like Rory was made of glass was just another reminder that she was gone. Aurora would never admit that aloud though, in fear of sounding ungrateful or rude.
She lifted her suitcase into the loft above her, and rested her head against the window. Silence. That's what she needed. That's what she wanted. No one would leave her alone in fear she would break. Her eyes widened and rolled, at the thought.
Legs crossed and tucked beneath her, Aurora found her book, Macbeth. It was a difficult read, but it's one she vowed she would accomplish. She was only on page thirty because she had decided to translate every sentence in her mind, and she had only started no more than a few days before.
Whenever she read, confusion became visible on her face. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes slightly squinted, she even began to lightly bite against the tip of her thumb in question. She had found herself understanding the current plot line, yet unable to figure out specifics phrases.
Aurora decided to challenge herself with Shakespeare, what she didn't realize was how difficult reading it truly was. Her mother had loved Shakespeare, specifically a midsummer's night dream. Aurora was tempted to read it but rather chose Macbeth because of her interest in a particular vile woman.
A viscous, manipulative, cruel, ambitious, nasty woman. Lady Macbeth held the characteristics of which Aurora could never have. Rory didn't know what would happen if she ever even let the mere thought of being impolite cross her mind. Almost as though being unkind was somewhat illegal in her mind.
She read on and remained especially attentive to the words of Lady Macbeth, Aurora for some reasons found a liking to her. She didn't know why. Being rude was the very opposite of her. Why was she drawn to the most malicious women ever written? Perhaps she enjoyed the feminism portrayed through her? Yes, that's it. The feminism. Definitely. Yes. The feminism.
She didn't allow herself to dwell on her thoughts of Lady Macbeth, so she slammed her book shut in hopes to forget the allure of such darkness. Her attention shifted out the window. She watched as a series of trees went by and she admired them as they blurred into a mix of greens and browns.
She rested her head against the glass once again and paid close attention to the colours. Her gaze shifted to the sky and she focused on the question as to why the sky doesn't blur like the trees. She of course understood the concept of distance playing a factor into her question, but she couldn't help but picture what the world would look like if the sky traveled too.
She imagined what the sun would look like, the moon, the stars, clouds and so on. Her gaze was fixed on the clouds drifting in the wind and she pictured the sky moving too. Aurora took pleasure in having such random thoughts, it entertained her, kept her mind busy, more or less.
She raised her left hand to the window and began to tap on the glass to a made up rhythm. She liked to believe that she made her own sounds, and although it was near impossible, she hoped she was the first to make that specific beat.
Fingers tapped on the glass, eyes fixated on the sky, in complete utter silence, she felt relaxed. No pressure of keeping up appearances, or manners. She was always one to stress over such little things. Aurora also often dreamt of letting go. No cares, no troubles. Sounds simple enough, oh how she wished it was.
Her thoughts passed her mind as fast as the trees did, her brain worked at a speedy pace, too fast for her to speak at, that's why she enjoyed being alone. She was able to relax and allow her thoughts to traverse.
Since no one was looking she decided to take a small risk. Without removing her shoes, she raised her feet to lay in a more comfortable position, beside her. Her shoes were covered in dried mud and the grains of dirt spread onto the cushions. It wasn't a 'reckless' risk, it was barely a risk at all, but it was considered rude and she wanted to be comfortable without considering every possible outcome to every minor decision she ever made.
She had began to allow her heavy eyelids to shut, but before she officially wandered off into a much needed slumber, the compartment door slid open, and at an alarming rate, Rory threw her legs off the cushions and placed them under her in a respectful position. In one motion she straightened her posture, and adjusted her clothes, while meeting the eyes of one of Rory's favorite people.
Luna Lovegood, is one of the most fascinating people to exist in Rory's opinion, she pictured the platinum blondes' mind to be a labyrinth, filled with surprising twists, turns, and unsuspected ideas hidden within. Not only did Rory find the girls thinking process intriguing, but she also took a liking to Lunas carefree attitude, and politeness. It seemed so natural.
Rory allowed a real smile to adorn her lips at the site of the girl with the unmistakable ashen complexion. Luna was dressed in lavender jeans with a matching colour, but different shade, t-shirt. Her neck was decorated with necklaces and beads of all shapes and sizes. Her pale hair was worn out except for the braids that held the front part of her hair up, delicately tied to the back of her head. Odd goggles rested on the bridge of her nose, Aurora took a liking to the creativity of her outfit. She was more decorative than a Christmas tree.
Lunas eyes hazily wandered throughout the compartment, taking note of Rory's body stiffen and soon relax at the sight of her. Her small and ever so natural smile widened to greet Aurora.
Rory returned the grin instantly. Her body slouched in relief at the sight of the one individual Rory knew would never judge.
"Why hello, Aurora" her voice was whimsical, almost like a song, Aurora always found it soothing.
"Hello, Luna" Rory greeted back. She then took notice on the stack of magazines Luna held to tightly to her chest. "What've you got there?" She gestured to the pile.
"Oh, just a few copies of my fathers magazine. The Quibbler." She softened her hold on the books to signify her offering one to Aurora. "Would you like one, I'm handing them out."
Aurora eyed the stack of books warily, surely it must've been difficult to carry all those books, yet she spotted no signs of struggle. Despite this she offered to assist Luna anyway. "You wanna hand with those?"
"Why, thank you Aurora, how kind" she chirped. A positive attitude always was expressed in Luna.
Rory raised in her seat, and collected a rough estimate of half the stack. Both girls attempted to open the door, which had fallen shut during their short conversation, with their feet. The utter failure encouraged soft laughs to erupt from both girls.
After placing down the stack of magazines, Rory opened the compartment door and soon followed Luna out. The two quickly agreed they should go in opposite directions to make more ground quicker.
The witches turned separate ways, and Rory began to advertise the Quibbler in every compartment she crossed. Unsurprisingly the quibbler wasn't as popular as the daily prophet, but Rory, along with her expertise social quality and persuasive arguments, succeeded in supplying the students with at least thirty copies.
Sooner than she had expected, Rory had provided her peers with an overall half of the stack that Luna originally gave her. At least a quarter down, she thought to herself.
About ten meters ahead of her was the trolley where the students of Slytherin resided. She partly dreaded entering Slytherin territory.
There, in those quarters sat, as she guessed, the Slytherins. Although Aurora didn't particularly like the majority of Slytherins she never let her kind demeanor drop, not even amongst the serpent house.
On her sides were tables and chairs, which the ambitious and witty students sat at. On her left was Draco Malfoy, she despised him most, for his ruthless comments on the Weasleys, muggleborns and herself, a supposed blood Traitor. He once had the audacity to mention she was spoiled goods.
Next to Draco was Blaise Zabini, dark energy radiated off him. He always retreated to the shadows and rarely spoke up, but when he did, his quick wit and vagueness made him appear mysterious and puzzling, she had been intrigued by it the moment she had learned of him.
Facing them, and in addition Rory, at the seat closest to the walkway, was Pansy Parkinson. A mythic bitch she was. Aurora and her had rarely ever interacted but Rory was fully aware of Pansy's snide comments and attitude.
By the window seat, a pair of blue hues, along with the eyes of the other Slytherins, pierced into her as she vastly observed them. Theodore Nott, eyes slightly squinted, head lightly cocked to the side, eyebrow raised in anticipation, watched her. Aurora knew she shouldn't cower, but his gaze was intimating, the whole table was. So she diverted her attention to the table on her right.
Crabbe and Goyle narrowed their eyes at her also, but Aurora wasn't an ounce bothered by it. She knew if she was to ever fear someone, it wouldn't be because of their brawn. Facing them, at the window seat, was Astoria Greengrass, and by her was Rorys' dear friend, Daphne.
A matching, bright grin etched on to the faces of both girls. Daphne shot up from her seat and threw her arms around Rory so fast she tumbled back a step. The hug was reassurance from Daphne, allowing Aurora to know she had a friend.
Daphne didn't let go, and when Rory went to back away, she squeezed her tighter. "Daph, you're suffocating me." She pleaded.
At her words, Daphne released the squashed Gryffindor. In an instant she raised her hand to the sides of Auroras face and checked for any signs of distress. Once she found none she spoke. "Oh Rory, how are you feeling? Are you okay? How's your family? How's the pen? How are you?" She fired question after question at a relentless pace. Aurora had to interrupt before she could ask another.
Gripping on to the blondes shoulders and slightly shaking her, the Gryffindor answered "Fine. Daph, everything's fine." She spoke reassuringly, a small smile expressed. In all honesty she had been internally suffering but she wasn't going to share that amongst listening ears. The others in the trolley were initially confused as to why a Gryffindor would dare walk on their grounds in the first place, and now wondered on Daphnes friendship with said Gryffindor.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop" she gave Rory a look that indicated her condolences. Rory appreciated the gesture but shot her a look to prove she was okay. "What are you doing here? What are those?" She nodded towards the stack of magazines secure in Rory's right arm.
Rory followed her gaze and answered the questions, "I'm helping Luna Lovegood hand out her father's magazine." She emphasized the items in her hand as she offered one to Daphne "Quibbler?" She asked. Daphne shook her head with a soft smile gracing her perfectly plump, pink lips.
Rory once again turned to face the opposite table. "You interested?" She offered the others. "Trust me, It's a fascinating read." She assured. A look of politeness evident.
All four, shook their heads in decline. But Draco, of course, then took it upon him self to turn his head towards her, providing her with his undivided attention and spoke up. "No. I would never accept anything from a blood traitor." Malice was obvious in his words. He sneered at her, and with a frown, she averted her eyes elsewhere.
Theodore kept his gaze on her. He could admit she was stunning, but he didn't appreciate the "little miss perfect" vibe she gave off. He offered her a sly sneer, unimpressed by her completely. Her attitude offered no danger, no passion and quite frankly, no allure. Her appearance, at first sight, would undeniably attract many, she had the most remarkable figure, olive skin, even though she originates from London, doe eyes, soft and pleasant facial features, perfectly maintained and curled hair. She even had a pleasing, sugar sweet personality.
In Theo's mind she was boring. Too perfect for his liking. He believed she could never fulfill him in any way. So when he looked at her, it was a gaze filled with disinterest. She continued her path down the corridor, arms wrapped tightly over the remaining copies of the Quibbler.
His eyes followed her until she was no longer visible. He shook his head in distaste. Boring, he thought. The moment the brunette was out of sight Draco shot a withering glare at Daphne. "What are you doing talking with her?" He spat.
She turned to him, head tilted and eyebrows raised, clearly unbothered by his opinion. "She's my friend." She emphasised the word 'friend', not because she needed to explain herself to him, but she wanted to.
"She's beneath you." He protested. "She's a blood traitor." The white haired boy exclaimed, as if she didn't already know. "Don't fraternise with the enemy, or we'll claim you a blood traitor due to association." He threatened.
Draco was the only real blood supremacist amongst them at that very table. No one else was particularly bothered. Pansy also believed, due to her blood status, that she was the better witch, but never bothered to express her opinions, it was always an awful chat, she thought. Crabbe and Goyle had also agreed but were too daft to express their ideas. Most believed they lacked the mental capacity to hold their own opinions in the first place.
Daphne rolled her eyes at Draco's remark, completely unfazed. Theo admired Daphnes courage, un hesitantly, she associated with her friends, even if they were openly a blood traitor or even worse a Gryffindor. Daphne was kind Theo thought, way better than the rest of them Slytherins.
Blaise spoke for the first time since Auroras arrival "Mate, Daph couldn't give two shits about your opinion, even if it had to do with the end of the world." He lightly chuckled at his own remark and Draco shot it head to face him, a deadly glare present on his features.
Theo thought for a minute until the revelation hit him, and he grew curious. "Daph, why wouldn't Aurora Flores be fine?" He directed his attention to Daphne in question, she had been so bothered by Auroras well-being. Due to all the questions, it made him eager to learn why little miss perfect wouldn't be okay. She had the perfect life, the perfect grades, the perfect face, he couldn't understand why she wouldn't be anything but, well, perfect.
The blonde Slytherin wore a solemn expression. It made him ever so curious "Not my place to say" was all she responded with. Her eccentric behavior had made him nosy, now he wanted to know, but there wasn't anything he could do, so he temporarily brushed it off.
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