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 woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Instead of her usual emerald green covers, this room was decked out in soft pastels and ocean blues; there was no filthy clothes screwed up in the corner, or cigarette buds littering the floors – it felt clean. It was clean.
Aurora groaned, feeling as though she was being hit with a silver hammer. Her head throbbed, a dull ache forming behind her eyes; it was too bright, the blinds were drawn, and early morning light spilled onto the pillow besides her and over Remy's angelic form.
She was sleeping, a dead weight to Aurora's left, and Aurora stared, not being able to remember how she got there. She pulled the covers over her head; she was fully clothed, thankfully, in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a woollen jumper – they must have been Remy's, the jumper practically swamped her small figure. She sighed, rubbing her eyes.
"Moring," Remy croaked, her voice raspy from sleep, "What time is it?"
"Half nine," Aurora whispered. She lay back down next to Remy, curling into her side. Remy smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Aurora as she buried her face into the crook of the taller girl's neck; Remy smelled like the sea, fresh and clean, with a hint of citrus – terribly different from what she was used too. "We've missed breakfast,"
Remy chuckled. "We can always go to the kitchens," She said, "Are you hungry now? We can go now if you want,"
"No," Aurora's voice was muffled by Remy's shirt, "You?"
"Me?" Remy laughed, "I don't usually eat breakfast, I can wait until lunch."
Aurora hummed. "If you're hungry, I don't mind heading down,"
"Don't worry," Remy said, "I think I'd rather stay like this anyway...."
"Mhmmm."
Remy laughed slightly, running her hands through Aurora's tangled raven locks. They didn't say anything for a while, reminiscing about the night before: Aurora remembered how they danced, twirling and waltzing messily around the dance floor, stepping on each other's toes and laughing so hard that Aurora's cheeks ached. She remembered downing about three classes of Champaign, and watching as the Weasley twins spiked the teacher's drinks with Fire-whiskey – for once, Aurora didn't feel her heart weep as she looked at Fred. Remy had been the apple of her eye, to Aurora, Fred simply hadn't existed.
They danced until well after midnight, drunk on spiked punch and fire-whiskey. Aurora couldn't remember much after that, maybe they went for a walk, or perhaps they headed straight down to the Beauxbatons carriage, Aurora didn't know – but she was happy. Happier than she had been for a long time.
She flexed her fingers, tracing Remy's collarbone. The skin beneath her touch was soft and delicate; flawless and untouched; freckled and pale, almost as pale as her own. For a second, Aurora wandered if somebody so pure, so perfect, could be seen with a monster. She shook her head, pushing her thoughts to the very back of her mind. She knew that Echo would dig them out, but she let herself relish in the tranquil simplicity that was Christmas 1994.
