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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Did any of you do my essay for me?" Aurora inquired as soon as she got to dinner that night, "My transfigurations one? It was complete."
Silas looked up from where he was staring at his mashed potatoes. "No, I don't even take transfigurations, remember?"
"Oh, right." Aurora nodded vaguely, "I forgot."
Silas shrugged, spooning up a spoonful of peas and letting them drop back to his plate. "Perhaps you should ask George, or Remy. George takes McGonagall's class, right?"
"No, Fred takes Transfigurations, George takes charms." She watched with mild interest as Silas played around with his food, before frowning and gently nudging his shoulder. "Alright, penny for your thoughts?"
"Penny for my what?"
Aurora rolled her eyes. "It's a- you know what, it doesn't even matter. What's up? You love mash potatoes, and that's not even your second helping."
"Just not hungry, I guess," Aurora frowned once more, and Silas sighed, his eyes flickering over to the over side of the hall, "Look, it's not important, ok? Just boy troubles,"
"Oh, you wanna talk about it? Is it Goldstein again?"
"No." Silas replied shortly, "No. It's not Goldstein and no, I don't want to talk about it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shed load of research to do for my potions class."
He then stood up, swung his bag over his shoulder and stormed out of the hall. Aurora cast a glance around the direction he had been looking at, only to see an empty portion of the slytherin table staring back at her. She shrugged, if Silas wanted her to know, then surely he would tell her, right? If he didn't, then it was none of her business unless the situation was serious.
She grabbed a piece of bread from the centre of the table, earning herself strange looks since she was a slytherin sat alone at the Hufflepuff table, but she ignored them and continued to absentmindedly butter her bread. She ate silently, her brain whirling, until a loud laugh from across the hall snapped her out of her trance. The Weasley twins jogged into the hall, wheezing with laughter, their faces flushed, and plopped themselves at the Gryffindor table, directly in the middle of their little fan club.
She could spot Fred from a mile away, the wounds in her chest still only just scabbing over, from the way that his laugh was higher pitched than Georges, and from the way it seemed to echo around the vicinity like bird song. Not the pleasant kind of bird song, though, but rather the one that wakes you up at the crack of dawn because you accidentally left your bedroom window open. The annoying kind that makes you want to cry. George, however, had a much quieter, booming sort of chortle, lower than his brothers and, in Aurora's opinion, a lot more pleasant. The kind of laugh that would cause a smile to bloom across your face, voluntary or not, instead of one that immediately alerted you of trouble.
Usually, Aurora would speak to George whenever his brother was not around, preferably somewhere very far away from herself, but it was Thursday, and Aurora knew that Thursdays – being perhaps the most miserable days Hogwarts had to offer besides Mondays – was a day dedicated to causing as much unwarranted chaos as humanely possible. So, she could either pull him asides now and risk returning to the common room with antlers sprouting from her forehead or be forced to wait until sometime tomorrow; she decided to go with the former, considering matters involving her essay were eating away at her insides.
