Rewritten
It seemed like a lifetime ago when she stood face to face with Harry, in her chambers, saying an unwilling goodbye to him. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he pledged to her that he wanted to be in a relationship with her, that he wanted her. And now here they were, standing across from each other, a war and twenty feet between them.
They'd changed, they both had. Aurora now knew more about her past than she ever did before, and he knew more about his future than he ever did before. There was blood in her past, staining the edges of her life, but there was guaranteed to be blood in his future, and he was the one who had to spill it. They had to make a killer out of him, that's what they had to do.
So much has changed, so much more was to come. They both went through unimaginable pain, for her physically and for him mentally, and the clandestine image of each other they'd secured in their minds months ago when they'd parted was a stark difference to the bruised and broken version of each other they saw now.
Perhaps that's why they didn't rush to each other as they'd imagined they would. As every bone in Aurora's aching body longed to do. She'd imagined it so much, being wrapped up in those secure arms and breathing in his scent and knowing that finally - finally she was with him again. But. . .but somehow that felt like another Aurora and Harry, not these two who'd witnessed the death of a godfather and a friend. They felt like an Aurora and a Harry that they left behind in her chamber and locked away.
Aurora stared from Alyosha's arms, perfectly aware that the two winged creatures made for a strange sight for the Wizards, but the pain twisting its way through her back allowed for that thought to slip away. Her hands fisted his shirt, to comfort herself or anchor her mind, Aurora couldn't tell.
She tapped Alyosha on the shoulders and he twisted his neck to stare at her with the same emotionless mask she'd seen on his face so many times before. Only this time he wasn't masking his emotions from her, it was from the Golden Trio standing across from them.
"Put me on my feet," she ordered lowly in his ear, giving him a stoic look that made the words of protest die on his lips.
He obliged her, carefully lowering her to the ground until her bare feet met with the cold stone. She was fine until she tried to take a step forward and almost landed with her nose smashed in. Alyosha was quick to catch her arm and stabilize her, carefully leading her to where her friends still stood with concerned gazes and rigid stances.
Alyosha grabbed her waist and stopped her when they were five feet away from the trio, eyeing them with suspicion. Aurora could feel his tense arms and his coiled wings, his stance rigid as a board. She rolled her eyes when she sensed this; the trio would be the last people who could possibly harm her, but being wary of Wizards was in Alyosha's blood. And from what Hermione told her, Alyosha has been surrounded by people who are strangers to him, alone, waiting for her recovery. Aurora isn't sure what he observed, but his guard was sky-high.
Aurora wouldn't admit this, but she was leaning on Alyosha, not for support, but for. . .for comfort, because he was on her side and was the only thing she could hold on to so she wouldn't run across the space between her and the trio to Harry.
"There you are," Hermione huffed, seeming exasperated. "Your escape wasn't very clever, you forgot your wand," she pulled the blackthorn wand out of her robe and waved it in Aurora's direction in a taunting manner.
Aurora's eyes followed the wand. "Didn't really need it, did I? Can't do magic like this," like this as in so injured and in so much pain, bloody hell it's a wonder I'm standing upright.
"Blimey, Aurora," Ron mumbled as he took in her appearance. "Seems like you finally went and did yourself a good one."
He grinned, stretching his busted lower lip into a mischievous smile.
Aurora stared back at him.
Still the same Ron, thank bloody fuck.
"I don't look any worse than you do," said Aurora.
Ron scoffed. "Yeah, but my face is normally handsome, you've always looked like you came out of a brawl."
"Ah, you were concussed I see, must be why you're spitting nonsense about you being handsome before."
"Did your potions muck up your brain or something? I have always been highly appealing to - "
"This will go on forever if we don't stop it now," said Hermione. "We're going to breakfast, would you two like to join us?"
Aurora was about to reply but Alyosha stopped her.
"She has to be taken back to the nurse lady. Her right wing is bleeding." His voice cut through, his grip tightening on her elbow when she stumbled a bit.
"Of course it is," Hermione groused. "That's what happens when you leave your bed first chance after you've woken up from several injuries. Madam Pomfrey spent ages trying to close your wound and now you're bleeding and - "
"Breathe, Hermione," Ron instructed her when the girl looked too red in the face for his liking.
"I've handled worse," Aurora muttered.
"Worse than this?"
"It's only a surface wound, there's no need to bite my head off,"
Hermione didn't look convinced. "Is that why you've left blood tracks all over the castle?"
"I will take you to Madam Pomfrey," Alyosha cut in. "Then you will eat."
"And if I'm not bloody hungry?" Aurora turned to him with hard eyes, not liking the way Alyosha was taking charge of her decisions. I mean really, since when is he so domineering?
He stared back into her eyes with equal ferocity, and for a moment she forgot that he was just a Chief's warrior, he seemed like he was so much more, perhaps that's why the others seemed so taken aback by him, the amount of power that he exerted simply with his voice.
"Too bloody bad," his accent thickened. "Your body took a heavy beating and all you've had since then are potions. You will get your wing sorted it out and then you will eat."
"Or what?" Aurora said defiantly, teeth clenching.
Alyosha's eyes flashed.
"Or I'll force-feed you if I have to. There is no 'or' in this situation that you'd like, be assured of that; you're completely unfit to be making decisions right now - "
"How fucking dare you - "
"Don't give me that look - "
"I will give you that sodding look because you're being an overbearing arsehole! - "
"Because you're bloody bleeding and I'm the only one concerned about it! Honestly, Rora - "
"Stop it now!"
Both Harpies snapped their gaze to Ron, matching glares on their faces. Ron looked back at them with an expression that was fearfully similar to Mrs Weasley's.
"Aurora, you will go and get your wing fixed. Afterwards, you'll come to breakfast. And we will hear no more of this," said Ron. "No more!" He added sternly when Aurora made to protest.
He hasn't spoken. He hasn't spoken, he hasn't even looked at her. He hasn't glanced once in her direction. Has she screwed up that badly? Is he repulsed by the sight of her?
Has their new and foreign relationship ended so abruptly? Has he lost all feelings - all sentiments for her? By the Harpy why's it so sodding hard to breathe suddenly? -
"Listen to the red-haired one," said Alyosha.
"Yes, Aurora," Ron said pointedly. "Listen to the red-haired one. We'll be waiting for you in the Great Hall. Won't we Harry?"
As if brought back to reality by some sudden loud noise, Harry flinched and turned to his friend, blinking confusedly at him.
"Erhm. . .yeah, right."
It was a painful thought. It was a painful, agonizing thought, the fact that she was back to being Aurora the Creature to him, not Rory whom he kissed and caressed.
Aurora felt a pang in her chest, but the pain blended with the rest and went unnoticed.
"Let's go before you pass out again," said Alyosha, reverting back to Russian and ignoring the sudden startled looks the trio sent him.
By the goddamn Harpy was he being annoying right now.
"Bloody wish I'd pass out so I wouldn't have to look at your damn face right now," Aurora grumbled, shuffling slowly behind him.
"In either case, I'd still be taking you to the Hospital Wing," and with that, he wrapped his long arm around her waist and picked her up again, his hands secure around her. Blood trailed down his arm under her wings and Alyosha froze, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes.
Aurora didn't even know that it had happened until Hermione gave a low gasp and watched as the thick, crimson liquid trickled to the floor.
"We'll wait for you at the Gryffindor table. . ." Ron said slowly, his voice faltering as he grabbed a hold of Hermione's arm and dragged her with him, both of them looking significantly more worried than when they first saw Aurora. Harry trailed after them, wandering like a lost soul.
Aurora let herself be carried by Alyosha, surprised at the way he navigated the castle like he knew it by heart. But he's had much time to map it in his head whilst she was asleep.
Her head sagged against his shoulder, and the outside world tuned out. What just happened? What just transpired? There was no emotions, no sentimentality, no indication that something had happened between her and Harry.
Is that what distance did to relationships? Did it destroy it?
What was that thing she once read? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. What a load of bollocks. No such thing happened, no fondness grew. There was only an iciness, a glacier-like wall between her and the boy who kissed her.
Madam Pomfrey gave her a lecture to rival Golden Boy's on the importance of bed-rest and recovery. She was stern and scolding and merciless to every grunt of pain out of Aurora's mouth every time she tightened her new bandages.
For an agonizing half-hour, she had to endure the chatter of Madam Pomfrey, Alyosha's stoic silence, and the stares of those still confined in the infirmary.
Alyosha helped her change out of her gown, his face expressionless as he coaxed the clothes over her limbs like he was dressing a toddler. Aurora had no capacity left in her to feel embarrassed. Everything was taken over by pain.
When Aurora was pulled into the Great Hall, there was a great moment of deja vu, when a hush fell over the tables and heads turned in her direction and voices whispered. It was the same as her very first evening inside the castle, when she could have cared less about it because she was Dumbledore's relative, and that's all they knew.
That's not all they knew now. Not even slightly.
Half-breeds-half-breeds-half-breeds-filthy half-breeds.
That's what they were thinking.
If Alyosha noticed the stares he received, he did not acknowledge them.
He sat her down in the far end of the Gryffindor table and started piling food on her plate without missing a single dish. Soon enough she had a plateful of breakfast in front of her that her ten-year-old self would have been jealous of.
Aurora had a tight grip on the notebook in her pocket, in the absence of a wand it was the only thing she could hold to stabilize her.
"What's that you're holding?" Alyosha asked, his face masking his curiosity as he started piling his plate.
"Does it matter?"
"You have a tight grip, you're in pain?"
"I have flesh missing from my bloody wing, of course, I'm in pain," Aurora hissed.
Alyosha eyed her wings, his blond brows pulling together. "I would write to my mother for some numbing cream but the journey would take too long,"
"One syringe full of morphine," Aurora sighed with longing. "That's all I need for my wound,"
"No. No Muggle medicine." Alyosha said sharply. "You're a Harpy, you heal like one. Eat your food."
Speaking of, the sight of it revolted her, the smell of bacon and eggs was wafting up her nose and invading her senses to an intense degree, it made her stomach churn tightly and there was a burning in the back of her throat. She would have thrown up right then and there onto the breakfast table had Alyosha not waved a goblet of orange juice under her nose suddenly.
The fresh smell of the fresh fruit somewhat calmed her nerves.
How did he. . .
"How did you know?" Aurora asked him as he filled his own goblet and took a sip, licking his lower lip.
"Sensory deprivation. Your body has focused more on healing you than enabling your senses during the time of your recovery, which means they shut down temporarily to navigate all your natural healing procedures. When they come back they might be a bit intense, like now, when the smell of various foods all in one spot was too much for you. Soon enough it will be distant and high sounds and insignificant things that your eyes will focus on without meaning to."
He spoke easily as he munched on a piece of toast, his blue eyes trained on her rigid form, seemingly oblivious to the hundred pairs of eyes and whispers that surrounded them.
How could he not bloody hear the whispers? Aurora watched him uneasily, flinching when her ears caught a sudden crunching noise. Turning her head, she tried to find the source of the sound and winced again when she located it to be a sixth-year Ravenclaw boy, grinding his teeth down on nuts as he ate them, tightening his jaw every time he bit down. Aurora whirled back around and exhaled, reaching for one of the prepared coffee mugs, but her fingers barely grazed it before Alyosha's hand snatched it away.
She slowly faced him and let out a hiss, baring her teeth in contempt.
Alyosha merely blinked.
"No caffeine." He stated simply, pushing a fork toward her.
"Now listen here," Aurora began darkly, speaking through gritted teeth, "I have had a very, very shitty couple of weeks, and I am in a lot of pain right now, all I need is cigarettes and caffeine. What I don't need is you bossing me around and acting like my bloody mother. You don't order me, I've made that clear."
"Yes, you've made that very clear, however, I don't care." He swallowed a mouthful of pancakes, efficiently ending the conversation. Aurora stared at him, wishing she had the strength to reach across the table and whack him over the head. Maybe she could stretch her right wing and do it, but no, that would do more damage than good.
"Come closer so I can smash this pitcher over your head,"
"I'd love to see you try, it would be very comical."
Oh, Harpy strike him down so she doesn't have to deal with this - this - "Bothersome, brutish, bastard - "
"Stubborn, self-destructive, brat - "
"Well, this is a light conversation," suddenly Ron cut in, sitting down on one side of Aurora. "Please continue, don't mind us."
"No, don't continue," said Hermione, "there's no need to snap at each other," she sat down on the other side of Aurora. They both kept a fair distance from her so as to not brush up against her bandaged wings, but their gap was nothing compared to the distance Harry kept between himself and Alyosha as he sat down opposite them.
"We do it for fun," Aurora drawled.
Alyosha scoffed derisively. "Only when she is not abusing her body with cigarettes and toxic beverages, which is never."
"See," Aurora pointed her fork at Alyosha. "He has his own way of telling me 'up yours' and I have mine, which is to tell him to go get fucked in the - "
"Alright! Enough!" said Hermione, "no more speaking to each other if all you're going to do is shout insults."
Aurora and Alyosha glared at each other from across the table but said no more.
"Here's your wand," Hermione held it out to her.
Aurora eyed it warily. "Why don't you hold onto it, for now," she said slowly, "won't be doing any good with it if I have it."
Her magic wasn't the most stable one right now. It felt like she was stuck inside the scorched room in Grimmauld place inside, constantly scorching and exploding things around her.
"Blimey, Aurora," Ron whistled, "I think you're turning into me," he joked, motioning to her plate.
"Jeahareyon help all of us then," why wouldn't the earth open up and swallow her? Why was the world being so bloody cruel to her and leaving her under Harry's absent gaze? Why aren't you looking at me, speaking to me, by the Harpy shout at me, insult me, show me how much you hate me, how you don't want me anymore, instead of watching Hermione take it upon herself to cut bacon and sausages into neat little squares on my plate.
Distracting herself, Aurora watched the smart witch with a confounded expression. They were treating her as if she was defective and could not function. The only thing left to do was for Hermione to hold the fork up to her mouth and make aeroplane sounds. Aurora grabbed the utensil and stabbed through one of the well-cut pieces of sausage, letting the flavour settle on her tongue - until she almost spat it out. It was way too cooked, Aurora wanted something raw right now.
She settled for nibbling on dry crackers and gulping down tea that she sneaked past Alyosha's radar.
"So, Aurora, where did you go?" She looked up at the mention of her name; she'd been trying to stop herself from snapping at a Slytherin boy behind her who chewed like he was eating gravel instead of cereal.
Aurora bit into her toast and shrugged. "Places."
Ron snorted. "Obviously, but where?" Hermione perked up, turning to them. Even Harry glanced their way, clearly curious.
"On a continent," she replied irritably. They knew she couldn't divulge any information, so why was Ron asking? - and why was this kid chewing like his teeth were made of lead? Could he not hear how loud he's being? People in bloody Inverness could probably hear him, does he want to inform the rest of Scotland about his breakfast?
"Very informative," Ron said sarcastically, loading waffles onto his plate.
"She cannot disclose clan location," Alyosha's thick accent interrupted, "It is against Harpy law."
All three stared at him before turning to Aurora, whose face was hidden in her cup of tea.
"Bold of you to assume Harpy law applies to me," she wiped at her lips. "It's because the Order doesn't allow me to disclose information."
Alyosha gave her a subtle glare, but she kindly ignored him.
As if sensing that she would say no more on the matter, Ron swiftly changed the subject to how the school was in her absence. Hermione and Ron continued to tell her what she missed, but Aurora could not hear a word of what they were saying, not when Harry was so close to her, and yet so far out of reach. She still had the letter he sent her, the one he'd spilt his entire problems onto. He'd said more to her in that letter then he had face to face. All those things she imagined doing to him when she read that letter, and yet, here he was in front of her, and she only wanted to move further away.
At times like this, Aurora preferred solitude. But when her thoughts were polluted she sought out the company of very specific people - Golden Boy, or. . .or Padfoot. But neither were here, so what was Aurora supposed to do? What could she do but stew in her mind and endure the unbearable smells and sounds and harsh lights against her sensitive eyes and the pain searing through her back with every tiny movement because of injuries she attained protecting a boy who couldn't even stand the fucking sight of her -
Everyone has their limits, even the strongest and most emotionally detached of us. Everything overloaded, and Aurora finally snapped.
"Oi, mate! Yeah you, foppish bloke," The kid - a fifth-year Slytherin - turned to her disdainfully.
"Keep chewing like that and I'll hand you your teeth in a jar." Aurora threatened venomously, glaring at the rapidly paling boy.
"Aurora!" Both Hermione and Alyosha shouted at the same time, though Hermione's was one of mortification and Alyosha's was an admonishment.
Out, she needed to get out and away from people.
"I need a cigarette." She got up and brushed past them, moving fast in case Alyosha got it in his head to follow her.
Aurora hated this, this - all of it. This feeling - this tightening, this unbearable ache in her chest. She hated the people around her and what they'd unknowingly caused. She hated Wizards and their utter stupidity, their lack of grip over their reality that led to Padfoot's death. She hated her family and her blood. She hated this castle and the students in it and oh God, she hated emotions. There was no sense of control, none of the usual composure Aurora had over herself. She was in pain, she was in agony, she felt as though she wanted to break down and beat against the ground or dig her claws into her flesh until she couldn't feel anything at all. Nothing. Numbness. The vast emptiness she's so accustomed to.
Where is Aurora the Creature and her ruthless lack of sentiment? What have they done to her?
In the end, she wound up in her room, curtains drawn and the gramophone whirling slowly with music, the lilting voice of the singer barely registering in Aurora's ears. She lay draped on the chaise longue, a cigarette trapped between her lips. She hasn't looked at the bed, nor at anything else that reminded her of that night.
Aurora couldn't help but remember a time when she was a nobody, a runaway girl living in caves and abandoned buildings. She used to live and breathe the forest, a place that was entirely her own.
And everything she had done, she'd done alone.
Perhaps there was wisdom in that after all. It certainly never landed her in a situation like this, fighting for a few precious moments of solitude. Even now, someone knocked on the portrait outside and Aurora heard the broken angel cry out indignantly.
"Go away, Alyosha." She said at once, blowing out smoke and watching as it swirled around in the hazy room.
"It's Harry."
The air around her seemed to freeze. She opened her eyes and sat up, her spine stiff as a block of cement.
The silence stretched on, she watched the door wearily, expecting him to walk away.
"May I come in?" She heard him ask.
Her heartbeat sped up. "No. . ."
Right, he'd walk away now.
Except he didn't. "Aurora, let me in."
She didn't respond. "I still remember the password Aurora, just let me in."
When Aurora failed to respond, Harry decided for himself and gave the password to the painting. The angel reluctantly let him in, glaring at the boy who knocked on his frame. He came in awkwardly, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, eyes darting around the room as if remembering something from way back.
Aurora watched him, watched the way he stood stiffly and stared around warily and remembered with a pang, a time where they stood in the same room and shared heat-filled kisses and desperate embraces. It seemed like such a long time ago.
No - not seemed. It was a long time ago. She had to remind herself.
He coughed upon inhaling the smoke that had dispensed from her many smoked cigarettes, but Aurora did not try to wave it away. It was better to see his hateful gaze through a cloud of smoke than face to face.
Harry waited for her to say something, but she didn't.
"You look terrible," he said.
Aurora peeked at him from under her lashes.
"You know I imagined a very different reunion all those months ago when we were last in here," he stepped further into the room. "And you were only gone for a few months but it feels like decades since that night,"
Aurora pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms securely around them, curling up and tucking her face into the small gap between her knees so he couldn't see the frown on her lips as she watched him with wary eyes.
His nervous habit returned and he ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends of it. "I thought I hallucinated you when you showed up at the Ministry, and then thought the same when I saw you in the Hospital Wing."
Aurora wished she could wrap her wings around her so she could disappear even more.
"And - and I don't know if you - if you could tell - I wasn't with you," he said, "I couldn't stand it, any of it, and I'm. . .I'm sorry."
What. . .the bloody fuck was he apologizing for?
"Aurora - " Harry murmured, his eyes desperately seeking hers out. "Rory, why won't you speak to me?"
RoryRoryRoryRoryRoryRoryRory -
" - Don't say that name," Aurora muttered quietly, "not yet." It's not yours to say, it's his. But he's dead.
Harry looked confused for only a moment before realization dawned on him and his face cleared.
"My mistake," he said in an odd voice. He took a step in her direction and Aurora flinched out of reflex, scootching back on the chaise.
Harry froze at once. He was suddenly terribly pale.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Aurora said at once.
"Then why won't you even look at me?"
Because I can't stand the look in your eyes.
Aurora said nothing, trying and failing to unfurl her tense limbs.
Harry dragged his bottom lip between his teeth. "Did you know?"
Confusion. What's he on about? "In your letter, you said 'now that you know about your connection with the Dark Lord'" he paused. "My connection with Lord Voldemort, you knew about it."
It was no longer a question, he was making a statement for her.
Aurora uncurled and stood up, feeling her legs tremble a bit before they regained balance.
"I did," she said quietly.
"But how?" Harry questioned. "You didn't know about the prophecy, you didn't know what they were guarding," He paused. "So how did you know?" he asked slowly.
Please don't make me do this. You don't want me to tell you, truly.
"Tell me, Aurora," Harry ordered. "Show your work, go on,"
Why was he speaking like that? She raised a newly lit cigarette to her lips and wrapped her other arm around her midsection.
"Dumbledore - he - in the beginning when they sent me to Hogwarts, it wasn't only to watch Umbridge. It was also to - to watch over you."
Nothing changed in his gaze, he was still as a statue. Aurora continued.
"He once said you understood Lord Voldemort more than anyone, but I reckoned it wasn't because you fought him off on multiple occasions. He said there was something akin to a tether between the two of you. I imagine he was using it as a metaphor at the time, but it was the truth. And then I thought - why you? Why did the Dark Lord choose to go to your house that night and murder your parents and try to murder you?" Aurora swallowed, feeling her throat dry. She raised her cigarette for another drag, though somehow her hand shook.
"What would he gain from killing a baby, if it didn't pose a threat to him? Perhaps, not who the baby is, but who he might grow up to be. If - if you're given an animal and told that once it's grown it's going to be the death of you, you would wring its neck while it was still small. Which meant that. . .that there was a connection between the two of you somehow, in some way, that tethered you to one another, and gave him a glimpse of what you might do to him, and he felt threatened by you, because one day you might kill him."
It was hard to say those words, to voice these thoughts, because they'd been mused in the mind of an indifferent Aurora, who had no feelings for the Boy Who Lived and only found him a distant curiosity. But now, it felt dehumanizing to him, to express observations made on him as if he was a test subject rather than a person.
"Right," Harry nodded, "right," he said again. "When did you reach that conclusion?"
Aurora paused, fingers digging into her neck, her bloodshot eyes raised to his emerald ones.
She hesitated. "First week in Hogwarts,"
His heart was beating oddly, Aurora didn't know whether it was from anger or from the realization that she had examined him like he was a different specimen in the beginning. It was hard to tell, his face was blank and his voice was low, but with every passing minute, she wanted to take a step back.
"Alright, so the first week into Hogwarts you have a better idea of me than I do, and you know about this connection and how it's affecting me and throughout none of it does it cross your mind to tell me."
There it was. He was angry, that explained his heartbeat.
"I didn't know if it was true or not, it was mere observations on my part, Dumbledore hadn't explicitly said there was a connection between you he only somewhat hinted at it. Could have been utter nonsense for all I'd known. And even if it was true, I - I did not care about it. Because I did not know you. You were only a task then, not someone I. . .cared about." Not someone I longed for.
"Everyone knew," Harry scoffed angrily, "every one of the Order knew, or figured it out on their own and hid it from me. If I'd known, I wouldn't have - "
"Don't - " but it was too late.
"I wouldn't have played into his hands so easily!" Harry bellowed, his eyes ablaze. "I wouldn't have been tormented with dreams I could not understand! I wouldn't have gone to the Ministry and he would still - he would still be - "
Don't say his name - do NOT say his name, please -
"Stop - "
"No! You all lied to me, you especially." He took two strides towards her but once again stilled when Aurora backed away until she was almost pressed against the wall, partly blending within the shadows. "I came to you and I told you about my nightmares and - you - "
"You kissed me," said Aurora, "and I know right now you wish you hadn't, but I didn't tell you any of this because you would have allowed it to control your life. You tell someone they're a monster long enough, they start to behave like one. If I had told you about it, you would have let it consume you. You'd have spent every minute of your life in fear of ending up like him because a lot of people told you there was a connection between you two. And you wouldn't have ever trusted yourself or your decisions again."
She stubbed out her cigarette and let out a shaky sigh, running a hand through her hair and moving to stop the gramophone, surprised it was still working, with the tension between her and Harry it felt like there was nothing but silence.
When she turned back around with her hands braced on the desk, Harry was calmer than before but there was still a cold look in his eyes.
"You have bruises on your neck," He said suddenly when he looked at her.
Aurora raised a hand to her neck and felt the swelling underneath her fingers with a passive face. Couldn't even tell how she'd gotten those.
"I guess." She muttered, letting her hair shield the black and blue spots.
She watched him run a hand aggravatedly through his hair, messing it up even more.
"Why did you say that?" Aurora looked up confused.
Harry faltered. "Why would I wish I hadn't kissed you?"
Aurora frowned. "Don't you?"
"No," said Harry, "do you? Is that why you won't let me near you?"
Aurora was so surprised by his response that she could form no words, which Harry took the wrong way. He began talking again.
"Do you regret that night?" he asked quietly. "is that why - why Alyosha is here?"
Alright, now Aurora's lack of knowledge on tones and human tendencies sparked again when she failed to detect the low tremor to Harry's voice.
"Why would Alyosha be involved in this?" She asked, perplexed.
Harry's head tilted. "Well I thought - you brought him back because you two are. . ." he trailed off, expecting Aurora to fill in the gap herself.
This was a social thing, Aurora had to figure out what he meant. He first asked if she regretted that night when she kept a long gap between the two of them. Ridiculous, of course, Aurora regretted none of it. But why did he mention Alyosha? He wasn't related to this. She tried to connect his sentences. Do you regret that night, is that why Alyosha is here? As if Alyosha was a barrier to keep between the two of them so she wouldn't have to face him. I thought you brought him back because you two are. . .wait - Hermione had tried to teach her about this. The difference in tone, the way he said you two, not in the normal way a person would say the two words, but you two, as if he was trying to integrate italics into his tone.
Unbidden, Hermione's voice gave her the answer in her head. Together, the different kind of together.
"Is that it?" Aurora blurted out. "Together? Is that what fills in the gap? You think we are together not in the meaning of close proximity, but rather a close association bordering on amorous?"
Something flashed through his eyes, it was the same look he got whenever she asked 'is that something friends do?'
He shifted nervously.
"Yes, I assumed that,"
What a stupid assumption.
"He's a friend," Aurora said softly. "He - he was my only friend there, the only person I could somewhat rely on. And now, here, he's. . ."
"Someone who understands," Harry continued for her perceptively. "Someone who knows what it's like to be you."
What it's like to be a half-breed, is what he meant.
"He didn't leave your side, I think that's why I didn't stay with you,"
"It's fine," Aurora murmured, scratching at her neck.
"He's protective of you,"
"He's an arsehole,"
Harry huffed out a laugh. "It's good to know there was at least someone with you protecting you."
"You thought I changed my mind about you?" Aurora couldn't help but ask.
"I - " Harry sighed. "Aurora you flinch away from me, it's not an unreasonable assumption."
"That's different, it's not for that. It's because - " Aurora broke off, shutting her eyes.
"Is it because you received all those injuries because you were protecting me? You think I will hurt you?"
Aurora rolled her head. "That's implausible, there's physically very little that you could do to harm me that I wouldn't be able to defect, humans are very slow, you know."
Harry hesitantly took a few steps, waiting for her reaction. When there was none, he closed the distance between them and stopped a few feet away from her. Aurora could not bring herself to look into his eyes.
"Then what is it, Aurora?" He asked softly, his voice barely grazing her ears.
I preferred it when you were shouting. This tone of voice is unbearable.
"You don't hate me?" she choked out.
Harry sucked in a breath. "Of course not," he said slowly.
"You should," Aurora muttered. "I think I'd understand it better if you resented me."
"Why - why on earth would I hate you?" asked Harry in bewilderment. Aurora said nothing, lifting her eyes so he could glimpse some of the agony she was suffering inside. The emerald green orbs held stare with the dulled gold and coal, searching them.
And Harry, strangely attuned to her emotions, exhaled with realization.
"You feel guilty," he breathed out.
Aurora wrapped her arms around herself. "You should hate me. I did nothing, it might as well have been like I wasn't even there. I couldn't save - I couldn't save Sirius. And he's dead. I fucking did nothing."
The first time the name escaped her mouth since his death. Why was it so painful?
And there it was; the flood. Her body shaking, Aurora braced herself against the wall and breathed in heavily. "I feel helpless, and I can't stand it. I can't bloody stand it. I could always rely on myself because I never failed but I did nothing and I hate it so much. . ."
Harry took a leap and crossed the few feet between them, his hands tightening.
No tears were escaping her eyes, Aurora wasn't capable of tears. But her body shook with tremors, and her wings ached with every ripple across her limbs, and she felt so suffocated that she wanted to dig into her skin and drag down her hands harshly, leaving red, bloody lines behind.
She looked up at him, biting her lip. "I don't like grief - no one ever told me it pains this way. I feel like I need to tear into my chest and rip out every organ. . .I can't - can't imagine what it must feel like for you. . .make it stop, please make it stop Harry. . ."
There was very little Harry could do to make such destructive emotion fade away. If he had the answer he would have used it on himself. But there she stood before him, hunched over as if she wanted to fold in on herself, a mighty fortress crumbling down, so unused to these harsh human responses to vast and immutable change. How terrifying it must be for her to experience these things for the first time, unaccustomed to any of them. It was even harder to watch, knowing that Aurora was someone who was the epitome of strength, someone whom they all believed could outlive anything life threw her way because she was a survivor, and what she did was fight back. They looked at her, and saw a fighter. A centurion with her sword, taking on the world.
She didn't look like one now, under the dim lighting of her room. Her chariot was broken and her armour was struck. There was no sword in her trembling hands. She looked - she looked like a painting. Like the most wan, most exquisite, most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.
Fragile, and looking to him for help.
There was no hesitation in his movement when he gathered her in his arms and held her firmly against his chest.
Frozen, she lay in his embrace, her head pressed against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Harry's hands avoided her wings, one wrapped around her waist and the other holding her head to him. Her hands fisted his shirt uncertainly.
"What are you doing?" Aurora asked, her words muffled into his collarbone.
"Hugging you," Harry replied.
"Why?"
"You said to make it stop,"
"And this helps?"
"Only for a short while,"
Aurora sighed, burying her face into his chest and melting against him. Harry felt her slacken in his grip and he held her tighter, burrowing his face into her neck.
"And what happens when that while ends?" Aurora whispered.
Harry pressed his lips to her temple. "We live on. We never forget, but we move on."
Aurora squeezed her eyes shut. "And the pain fades away?"
"No. . .it's always there. But we learn to live with it."
"Why do we have to? Why can't I go on and feel nothing?"
He spoke, his next words like cement blocks on her chest. "Because you're human."
Aurora had never felt human. No one ever believed her to be one. Treat someone like a monster long enough, they start to feel like one. She was Aurora the half-breed, not Aurora the Human.
We feel, because we're human.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"I really missed you."
Harry paused.
"So did I."
And there they stood, two lonesome castaways on a deserted island, stranded and alienated from the world. Shattered, crumbling down like stars falling to the earth. Seeking comfort in each other's embrace.
It wasn't home as Aurora remembered, but she had changed, and so had Harry, and it wasn't the home she thought she'd come back to, not really. But it still made her feel warm, and still, in his arms, she could disappear.