Return To Me

She’d done her part. When the castle had fallen under attack she’d helped Minerva, and had managed to take out a few death eaters, but now she stood alone back in the Astronomy Tower, fingers gripping the ledge of the parapet so tightly that her knuckles were white. Hours had passed since dawn, midday was practically upon them. She waited.

There were footfalls on the stairs but she didn’t turn around, didn’t even lift her head from its downtrodden gaze, knowing that they were too light and hurried to be his. “Aurora! Aurora, dear…” Minerva’s voice was soft, though she sounded worlds away. “Aurora,” the older witch’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “It’s over! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Didn’t you hear the announcement? To meet in the Great Hall? It’s over, we’ve won!”

She did not turn her tear stained eyes toward the woman. The horizon taunted her from the distance, and her eyes continued to search the grounds, the woods, the lake, as far as she could see, daring to hope, daring to want. Finally after a moment of silence, though she kept her head stone still, eyes still gazing out, she said, “Have we all returned?”

“Aurora, it’s over,” Minerva repeated.

“That’s not what I asked you,” she said, her voice tight.

“You have to know that there were casualties…” she said. Minerva wasn’t quite sure who exactly the woman was looking for, though she had an idea.

“Then you’ll tell me who hasn’t returned.”

Both women were very still. Aurora kept her gaze out to the lake, just near the Whomping Willow, fully expecting a shadowy black figure to come crawling up from beneath it at any moment. It was foolish to hope for such things, she knew it. Her mind knew it. But it was convincing her heart to accept it that was the problem.

He’d comforted and soothed her, healed her wounds after the attack from Amycus, and although she’d hated him for a solid three days, blaming him, each night that he came to her, just to hold her, to make sure she was alright, she did not turn him away. But it was two solid weeks before she let him back into her bed, and even then he refused to make love to her, not wishing to hurt her.

Her mind reeled, thinking back on the last time his lips had caressed her. It had been the night before the attack. He had stood in the tower, arms wrapped around her, kissing her neck as she sobbed silently, swearing he wouldn’t return to her. But he had promised. This made fresh tears spring to her eyes, where were his promises now?

“Aurora, perhaps it best if you come inside, have Poppy take a look at you, get some tea, and some rest.”

“I don’t want any rest, Minerva.” She said. Her voice was cold. It was impossible to tear her eyes away from the spot she’d focused on, just waiting, desperate to see him appear there.

The other woman leaned against the stone parapet, following her gaze, and she sighed, moving her spectacles slowly from her face. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t apologize.” Aurora said. “Hope isn’t lost. It cannot be lost. He promised.”

“Aurora, they recovered his body any hour ago…”

More tears tumbled down her cheeks. “No, no, he’s hanging on, I’m certain.” She said, sounding nearly delirious, her eyes so swollen with tears they were almost closed. “He promised, Minerva, he promised.” Her fingers clutching at the parapet broke free and she tumbled backward, falling to the stone floor of the tower, her body shaking.

“Aurora,” the other witch came to her knees, trying to pull the woman up as best she could, wrapping both arms around her in a motherly way. “Oh, shh…” she whispered, stroking the woman’s long black hair as she trembled. “I’m so sorry…”

“But he promised!” she sobbed, tossing her face into Minerva’s robes. “He promised, that bastard, he promised me!” she shook, body contorting and her hair flying everywhere.

Minerva held her tight, afraid that if she let her go that the woman might attempt to jump. Helping her to her feet, she guided the Astronomy professor back inside the castle, taking her down to the hospital wing, where Poppy had set up shop, caring for the injured, the dead still laid out in the Great Hall, under respectable sheets with flowers atop.

“He promised…” she whimpered, still shaking as she was guided back onto a bed.

“Who promised?” Poppy asked, a worried glance going to Minerva. The older woman came and whispered into the mediwitch’s ear. “Oh, good heavens…” she said and frowned, “My dear, I’m so sorry,” she said and got a cool rag, placing it on Aurora’s forehead.” The sobbing woman cried herself into a fit of exhaustion, falling to sleep in the hospital wing bed.

Minerva frowned. “I had always had an inkling, but I never realized…”

“It makes sense now, what he said the other night…”

“I beg your pardon, Poppy?”

“He was in here, the great git, though suppose I shouldn’t say that about him now…what with the memories and all…” Both women bowed their heads for a moment. “But he did, he came in here and told me to keep an eye on her especially. Now I know why.”

Minerva nodded. “I need to tend to the others…” and the mediwitch nodded to her as she swept out of the room.

“You poor dear,” she whispered hovering over Aurora’s sleeping body. “I think if he’d had the chance, he would have kept his promise.”