In third-year halls, their paths first crossed,
A Raven boy, a Blonde girl lost.
"Stay out of my way," she warned with a glare,
But something lingered in the frosty air.
Crimson with his scar and fame,
Emerald with her secrets untamed.
Two worlds ap...
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The dark, twisting trees of the forest blurred past Aurora's vision as she struggled to maintain her composure, walking in step with a group of Death Eaters who had just returned with a grim prize. They had captured Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger—bound, battered, and at the mercy of Voldemort's forces.
Aurora had been wandering the shadowed halls of Malfoy Manor when she'd first heard the triumphant shout echoing through the air—"We've got Potter!" The words froze her blood, a chilling realization taking hold. Harry, here, in this house, with every ally of Voldemort just waiting for the opportunity to tear him apart. She forced herself into a calm stride, fighting to mask the horror and dread clawing at her insides as she followed the procession of Death Eaters into the manor. Memories flooded her—quiet moments with Harry, his laughter, the warmth in his gaze. And now, she barely recognized him under the dirt and bruises that marred his face, though he caught her eyes briefly, only to look away, knowing the danger.
Bellatrix Lestrange pranced alongside the bound trio, cackling with maniacal glee, her wild eyes glinting with excitement as she dragged them through the grand entrance. Aurora stayed silent, biting back her fury, knowing she had to act as though Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nothing to her. She breathed steadily, burying her feelings beneath a mask, though it pained her to see Harry so helpless. The memories of their shared laughter and moments of love kept pressing to the surface, making the façade even harder to hold.
They entered the drawing room, the atmosphere thick with a tension that seemed to smother the air. Bellatrix pushed Harry to the center of the room, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion, while Ron and Hermione were forced to their knees beside him. Draco was there too, rigid and pale, standing by the wall with visible discomfort. His gaze met Aurora's just for a moment, a flicker of desperation in his eyes, but he quickly looked away. She knew he felt the turmoil just as keenly, but like her, he was bound to silence.
"Draco, come here," Lucius Malfoy ordered, his tone sharp and cold. "Look at him closely. Is this Potter?"
Draco hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before reluctantly stepping forward. His eyes flicked toward Harry, but the recognition was met with a murmur of denial. "I... I'm not sure," he stammered, voice barely audible. Aurora could sense his struggle, his reluctance to betray even the faintest loyalty he still held.
Bellatrix's patience wore thin, her hand twitching around her wand as she hissed, "Not sure? Look at him, Draco!" She leaned closer, her sneer twisting as she pushed Draco forward.
Aurora's breath caught. She could feel the danger mounting; any wrong word or hesitation would bring Voldemort here instantly. And then—Bellatrix's piercing gaze turned, latching onto Hermione, her face igniting with a cruel, delighted spark.
