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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The game had been great; Ireland had won, of course they had, they had the strongest front line Aurora had ever seen, but Krum had caught the snitch. They had been right in the top box, and besides a run in with the Malfoys, the night had gone pretty smoothly.
That was, until, the Potters and Black-Lupins arrived. It turns out, the tickets Mr Weasely had gotten had been the same ones that James Potter had managed to get his grubby and overly optimistic hands on too, and the entire family was there. Sat right next to them.
Fucking fantastic.
Aurora had stuck to the twins side the entire ninety minutes, hiding her small frame behind Fred and George's long legs and not even glancing in their general direction, even when she could feel the prickle of silver eyes against the side of her face. It took ever ounce of self control to keep her head forwards, and to not turn and lock eyes with Sirius - it would've given him the satisfaction of knowing that she remembered him, and Auroras pride couldn't take a blow that big without collapsing in on itself. The internal humiliation would be too much to handle at the moment.
Instead, Aurora had stared fixedly at the Irish beater's techniques, absentmindedly sucking on a cigarette - purely because she knew that it would wind the Potters up. Countless times she felt peoples eyes on her, emerald green eyes like twinkling fields of moss staring her down curiously, hazel nut brown with recognition, and silver pools with guilt and sorrow. Regret was a common emotion, but never had she felt so much directed towards her. It was strange, but Aurora didn't know these people, and she hadn't a clue on how advanced their acting skills were.
Nonetheless, it made her wonder.
When Fred and George went to collect their winnings from Ludo Bagman (they had bet him all of their savings that Ireland would win but Krum would get the snitch) Aurora was left on her own. Ginny had slipped off with Luna, and the pair of them were making corkscrew necklaces, Ron - although she wasn't too fond of him - was fangirling over the Bulgarian seeker, and Percy was being, well, Percy. He was striding around like a pompous poodle, with his nose in the air and his chest puffed out - Aurora didn't particularly fancy discussing the importance of cauldron bottoms right then.
She wondered aimlessly around the campsite for a while, watching as wizards downed bottle after bottle of firewhiskey. She grabbed one for herself when nobody was looking, and downed half of it in one. The burn took her mind off things. The knife flashed abruptly through her mind, but she pushed the temptation away for now - she would feed her addiction later, when she had a little more privacy. She found that Echo quite fancied the dark, solitude of her bed, and the silkiness of the night.
A group of Wizards staying in a tent that resembled a bouncy castle pushed past her roughly, chanting and cheering to themselves, bottles of liquor held high above their heads. She had stumbled into a sea of green; the tents looked more like Hobbit holes than actual tents, and there were curtains of mossy shamrocks hung proudly around their exterior.
