Aurora liked to think of her life as one that, unlike seemingly everybody else nowadays, she did not want to re-live.
Sometimes, when she's lying awake at night, she likes to think that the fates, or God or whoever it was that planned out peoples li...
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"Aurora sweetheart! It's so good to see you!" Molly Weasley grinned, pulling Aurora into one of her signature breath taking hugs. "Come in, deary...oh look at you - you've grown a good few inches, i'd say, though you are still much too skinny! A spot of breakfast will do you good...yes...well, in you come, the boy's and Ginny are out back-"
Aurora followed Mrs Weasley through to the back garden, very conscious of how clean her shoes were, or how luxurious her new stolen red leather jacket looked. It seemed a shame, really - Aurora had spent all morning scrubbing her shoes so they twinkled, it appeared that she needn't have worried. The Weasley home was as much of a home as ever; it wasn't sparkling clean, but looked as if it was lived in.
The furniture was worn and comfortable, splatters of pain on the counter top and dirty plates stacked up in the kitchen; there were muddy boots by the door, coats hung haphazardly on the coat rack. In the corner, a muggle potato peeler had been charmed to peal a great vat of apples, and the book shelf was filled with rows of neatly stacked books; two knitting needles were working away in the living room, and a cat was stretched sleepily on the battered carpet before the roaring fireplace. Aurora's favourite feature, however, was the clock hung on the wall in the kitchen - it wasn't a usual clock, the numbers had been replaced with locations, and on each clock hand was a moving photo of each Weasley family member. She thought that it must be nice to feel included.
The back yard was large - clearly having been expanded magically - and in it's center was a mini quidditch pitch, which was occupied by six equally as redheaded children. Aurora watched them play for a while, Fred and George were chaotic as always, and Ron was playing as keeper - a position Aurora thought that he was quite suited for. Charlie Weasley was, naturally, playing seeker, and Ginny and a boy Aurora didn't recognize were darting about throwing the quaffle to one another. Ginny was amazing, scoring goal after goal and never missing a shot - like a flash of red, even if the broom she was playing on was an old Cleansweep 4.
Charlie caught the snitch, and the Weasleys all collectively flew to the ground - windswept and sweaty. Fred was the first to notice her, dropping his broom and just....staring.
Aurora gulped, wavering under his intense stare. She cleared her throat, muttering a croaky "Hello..."
"Aurora...hi!" His voice cracked slightly, and he flushed in embarrassment, "You look...you look..yeah!"
Charlie chuckled fondly, "Aurora Black, as I live and breathe! Tis' been a while-" Aurora smirked.
"How's the head, Weasley?" She had hit him with a bludger during his final match - when she had been in second year - and he'd been rushed off to Madam Pomfrey with a blood dripping down his face and the snitch clasped tightly in his hand - screaming and cheering as if he wasn't seconds away from permanent brain damage.
"Fine, fine," Charlie said, waving his hand carelessly, "Still won, didn't we?"
Aurora rolled her eyes. "Only because we had Montague as our Seeker!"
