𝙰 𝙳𝚘𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰 𝙳𝚘𝚟𝚎 - 𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘

Chapter 33

Aurelia held onto Euphemia and Sirius' hands tightly as she watched two identical wooden caskets get lowered into the ground, shrinking under the bitterness of the air. Fleamont, James and Remus all stood by her side, shielding the inner trio with umbrellas and spells to keep them all warm, partly protecting Aurelia too from the glares she was receiving from members of her father's church.

Aurelia was just glad to have somewhere to go after the funeral.

When Sirius had revealed himself to those in the Headmaster's office after sneaking inside with James' invisibility cloak, demanding Aurelia stay with him and James' family for summer break, there'd been no hesitation on anyone's part to agree. Euphemia and Fleamont were well respected and well known amongst the Ministry, and Kingsley and Alastor, who'd been assigned to protect Aurelia's welfare, had immediately sent an owl to the Potter family, ready to begin warding it for Aurelia's safety.

They had both promised to visit at least once a week, to check up on their magical wards, and ensure Aurelia was safe.

When both caskets had finally been dropped into the ground, Euphemia let go of Aurelia's hand, and gently, placed a white rose in the palm of the girl's hand. Sirius reluctantly let go of Aurelia's other hand, and all in the cemetery watched as Aurelia's chin lifted, and she took those few steps forward towards her parent's grave, never once wobbling despite her grief. She lifted the rose to her lips, pressing a small kiss to the white petals, before dropping it onto the caskets, her blue eyes never once leaving the flower.

"I guess this is goodbye," she whispered, lips almost blue from the bite of the cold. "I'm sorry that my world crashed upon yours, and that I was a terrible daughter."

With those final words, she stepped back into Euphemia and Sirius' arms, and slowly, they turned away from the gravesite, followed by James, Remus and then Fleamont, whose eyes flitted all around, as he monitored the area for any danger, echoed invisibly by Kingsley, who'd warded the place in the morning as a precaution for Aurelia. Though a few years older, the young Auror in training had become a regular correspondent with Aurelia in the past two weeks, giving insight into his life in the Ministry, as well as becoming a friend for Aurelia in a time where life was seemingly becoming harder.

Since their return from Hogwarts, all who were residing under the roof of the Potter's had become subject to hearing daily about more and more muggle murders, as well as that of vocal opposers to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Aurelia had started sleeping in Sirius' room on the nights where her dreams were plagued by the daily radio and newspaper announcements, and even Euphemia and Fleamont had become more cautious, though they tried to stay hopeful for the young adults living under their roof.

They were even planning to throw a small party for Aurelia's seventeenth birthday, which was only days away.

"Alright, everyone, straight home please," Fleamont called out, once the group were out of earshot and sight from the muggles at the cemetery. Everyone nodded, before James and Remus immediately apparated alone to the house, followed by Euphemia, who clutched at her hat as she disappeared from sight. Sirius ensured Aurelia's hand was wrapped tightly around his, before he apparated into the morning sky, followed at last by Fleamont.

☽ ☼ ☾

Aurelia wandered around the Potter house as the clock down the hallway struck midnight, unable to find even an inch of sleep. After spending at least an hour tossing and turning under the moonlight that streamed through her curtains, she'd at last slipped out of her room, tiptoeing throughout the dark hallways in order to not awaken the household. Sirius' leather jacket had been left in her room by the boy earlier in the day, and Aurelia held it close around her body, inhaling it's deep scent of ash and cologne.

Aurelia walked, and walked, until she found herself walking down the staircase, following the well-worn footsteps in the wooden floorboards towards Euphemia's beloved kitchen, where the light had been left on.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, the place where cuts and bruises were kissed better by the matriarch of the family, and where every meal was concocted purely out of Euphemia's love for her family, evident in the warmth that always radiated from her kitchen. Dated, floral wallpaper lined the walls, accompanied by a small clock that rested against the large stone fireplace that centred the kitchen, and remnants of what Euphemia had left out for the morning lined the central island, all mismatched and worn through.

Despite having so much money, Euphemia refused to let Fleamont touch the kitchen, refused to let him replace their chipped mugs and splintered wooden spoons. The kitchen was her baby, just as Fleamont's shed was his, and Fleamont respected Euphemia's boundary in the kitchen, just as she respected his shed.

Aurelia lifted a shaking hand to trace the lines and bumps in the wallpaper, unable to stop the involuntary action that had been plaguing her since the funeral earlier in the day, as her lips parted to allow a sigh to pass through, all of the day's events still fresh in her mind, like that of a freshly sliced wound. She'd been surrounded by everyone since they'd arrived back at the house, and for the first time today, began to break down in tears as reality hit her, her hand sliding from the wall as she fell to her knees, tears finally free from the prison she'd held them in all day.

Aurelia cried for everyone.

She cried for her parents, for the defenceless muggles suffering under Voldemort every day, for the future she knew was fast approaching.

No one in the household could ever understand just how horrifying each muggle and muggle-born death was, no matter how much sympathy they could garner. No one in the household had ever lived without magic protecting them, without the fear that any common injury usually fixed with the flick of a wand could easily kill a muggle any day.

Muggles could not just simply yell Protego! and move on with their lives.

Aurelia's shoulders slumped as she harshly rubbed at her nose and eyes, failing miserably at stopping the tears from making her face red and blotchy. Through her now partially blurred vision, she could make out the black and white photographs that lined the mantelpiece of the fireplace, which bore images of mostly James, throughout his years, from being swaddled as a baby in Euphemia's arms, to his first day at Hogwarts, next to much younger versions of the current Marauders.

Everything about the Potter family radiated that goodness and warmth that James exhibited day in and day out.

Aurelia could not remember a time where she'd been in a photograph at all with her parents.

In fact, Aurelia could not remember a time at all where someone had ever offered to take her photo. She'd spent much of her younger years in the muggle world hiding from her father when she could, sometimes even clutched to the back of her mother's skirts when she was in a kind mood, and when she'd finally been taken to Hogwarts in that first year, she'd shied away from most, especially the nastiest of the Pure Bloods, who'd made it their goal to bully Aurelia in every way they could when no one was around.

Aurelia had never admitted that to anyone, that she'd been a target of horrible bullying right up until she'd bumped into Sirius at the beginning of their sixth year. She'd never admitted to anyone that when Dolohov had held her captive for those few seconds on the first day of Potions, he'd threatened much worse in small whispers in the halls, including offering her the worst death imaginable once his Dark Lord overtook the world.

Everything Aurelia had repressed and forgotten about since Sirius had entered her life seemingly crashed back down upon the girl as she moved to curl her knees up to her chest, hidden partially now under the kitchen island. Though it was slightly cold, Aurelia found her eyes beginning to close, a tiredness from her tears overcoming her body, and quietly, Aurelia fell asleep, curled up in that small ball.

For once, she had no nightmares.

And when Fleamont awoke early the next morning, and stumbled into the kitchen to find Aurelia, he told no one of her tear-stained face, nor where she'd been. He simply picked her up, gently cradled her to his chest, and walked with her up to her bedroom, tucking her into her bed as if she were a small child.