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's hands were cramping painfully, and her mind was hazy. She scrunched up her bed sheets, the white fabric creasing in a way that made her cringe, and knotted the edges tightly - the last thing she wanted was to fall out off the window.
The Hogwarts express left in two days, and Aurora felt like she was suffocating. Never in her life had she felt so controlled, there were boundaries, rules, things that she couldn't do - she wasn't used to it, and quite frankly the rules were bullshit. Bedtime at nine? Bullshit.
Back at the orphanage, there wasn't anything that you couldn't do. Rules? None. Boundaries? Zero. People that cared? Too little. Drugs? If you didn't get caught. There were endless possibilities when adults didn't give a shit about you, and Aurora preferred that lifestyle to being watched over by a middle aged man like a Teacher in detention.
So she was making a run for it.
Throwing the knotted fabric out of the window, Aurora stood up straight and sighed. The TV blared from downstairs, the News echoing through the house in such a dulcet tone that Aurora was sure that it was the sole reason Remus was going grey at such a young age; he probably wasn't even watching it, just using it as background noise whilst he re-read little Women for the hundredth time.
She stepped out the window, her bag clinging desperately to her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Aurora grasped onto the soft fabric of her duvet cover, the knots providing a sturdy hand grip; she lowered herself down the rope, landing skillfully on the floor below. Finally, fucking freedom.
Aurora decided to leave the rope there, so that Remus could see that his security was shit - she hoped it would strike a nerve, and she hoped that he worried. She wouldn't know either way, because hopefully, she wouldn't have to see him or his strange and very ugly dog ever again.
The cottage wasn't too far from the main road, and Aurora made quick work of drawing her wand and summoning the Knight bus. Stan emerged from the purple double-Decker with his usual dramatic flair, greeting Aurora like a friend and insisting that she needn't pay extra for a hot chocolate. The hot chocolate was flat and weaker than Lupins locking system, but she drank it because, (1) she was hungry, and (2), because she needed something to occupy her mind.
By the time she had gotten back to London, the stars had hidden away and the sky was blushing a bright pink. Aurora sighed deeply. She wondered if Lupin had noticed that she had disappeared yet - not that he cared, he didn't 'notice' her until she arrived in his class almost a year ago - and, if he had, sincerely wished that he was panicking. It offered her a sense of accomplishment, knowing that she had succeeded in harming somebody the same way that they harmed her. Although, she supposed it wasn't quite the same thing.
Once again her mind traveled to the scrunched up piece of parchment that lay dormant at the bottom of her bag. Everyday she inched closer and closer to burning it, but the prospect of burning a potential apology prevented her from doing so. It wasn't like she actually needed an apology from a man she hardly knew, she was almost an adult - only having three months of her childhood left - and had outgrown her need for a parental figure. She did know, however, that it would hurt his pride to apologise in any way, shape or form, and that thought offered her comfort in the most satisfactory way possible.
