Fate Set Right

Chapter 9

—————A—————

September 2, 1993

Aurora stomped up to the hospital wing after supper without a single care about who saw or what they had to say about it. She could feel her curls sparking and growing tighter, nearly a copy of Hermione Granger's curls when she wasn't angry. Aurora's eyes were narrowed, the deep brown growing black like her father's. And the scowl on her face was such a perfect combination of both her parents that even seventh years stepped aside as she passed.

Without hesitating, she entered the infirmary and marched straight to Draco's bed. The prat was awake, a book opened on his lap, one leg propped up to help keep it open. He was angled in such a way that he couldn't see who was coming in.

"It's about time dinner got here," he started to say with that Malfoy sneer. "You wait until I tell my father—"

He never finished the sentence. The very instant he turned his head, Aurora threw a punch hard enough that Draco went tumbling over the other side of the bed.

"You stupid, arrogant prat," she spat, and Draco scrambled as best he could with one arm, pain mingling with surprise as he did his best to face her. "Do you realize what you've done? Has your head been jammed so far up your arse that you really have no common sense, no human decency left?"

"What are you talking about, Rory?" Draco asked, finally managing to get to his feet. It had been the first time he'd referred to her in a familiar manner since Colin Creevey's Petrification the year before. It had been Snape or Aurora until that moment.

"I'm talking about your belief that you're superior to everyone and everything because you're a bloody Malfoy. I know you know how to bow to a Hippogriff because of that time we ran into one in the wild. Remember? With Mum? And I know she warned you very, very thoroughly the kind of damage it can do if you don't show it the respect it deserves. But no. No, the mighty Draco Malfoy had to risk his neck, which Buckbeak easily could have ripped open, all to show up Harry Potter. Or maybe show off for him, because frankly I'm beginning to wonder." Draco paled at the implication, and while it registered, Aurora continued, "And bragging to your imbecilic housemates about how you could get Hagrid fired—"

"What do you care about the bloody oaf?" Draco demanded.

"I care because Hagrid has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember! I spent the first five years of my life living at Hogwarts. I've walked these grounds more than any seventh year, and Hagrid is practically an uncle to me."

"He's a half-blood," Malfoy sneered, spitting the words.

"So am I!" Aurora shouted.

It felt like all air left her lungs and her heart stopped. She hadn't meant to say it. She'd known her blood status since she was four years old and had heard the dreaded 'M' word tossed around by Uncle Lu when he hadn't realized she could hear.

Her father had noticed, though. He'd spotted her in the shadows of the hallway heading to the washrooms from the playroom down the hall. He acted like nothing had happened, not giving even the slightest hint she was there. He had explained afterwards what that word meant. "It's a terrible word for people like your mother," he said. "Muggle-borns. The people that use that word are typically of only wizarding blood and believe that they are better for it. Daddy has to pretend to like them and agree with them. But I do not."

"Why do you have to pretend to hate mummy?" she asked, confused and a little hurt.

"I don't," he said, tapping her nose. "Mummy pretends she has only magical parents, so no one tries to hurt her. But we must not tell. Remember what I told you about secrets?" Aurora nodded. "I am a half-blood."