Aurelia stared at the newspaper in front of her with empty eyes. She had dropped her cup and spilt tea all over the table, but she could not bring herself to clean it up. She couldn't bring herself to do anything. Anything but reading those lines over and over again, staring at the newspaper with empty, glossy eyes.

"VOLDEMORT DEFEATED!" read the headline. It was a celebratory headline, and most people of the wizarding community were probably out celebrating on the streets this very moment. But what followed the headline was not celebratory. Not in the least. And Aurelia could not bring herself to feel an ounce of happiness that the war was over. Not when it was ending like this.

"Voldemort's death curse re-bounced off one-year-old chosen one, Harry Potter, effectively obliterating the dark wizard. Both parents, James and Lily Potter were killed in the attack by Voldemort's hand. Death eater Sirius Black has been arrested and imprisoned in high security facility Azkaban for the murder of order member Peter Pettigrew along with twelve muggles, and for aiding and abetting the Potter murders. Harry Potter is alive and well, and has been brought to safety with family."

The girl blinked twice, hard, half expecting other words on the paper as she opened her eyes back up again. But the words remained the same, as did the hot tea, burning on her arm. This was not a time for tears, she decided, utilising the mind games her mother had taught her as a child. Surely, she could manage to shove this newspaper article in a trunk somewhere at the back of her mind, as she had the abortion; the one where she had knowingly killed their child, James' child. James who was now gone. Gone, for all but an empty shell somewhere in a dark cellar of St. Mungos, cold and still – a literal opposite of him, the boy who embodied warmth and life. She had nothing left of him now. He was dead and gone, along with his bright smile, warm hugs, twinkling hazel eyes, and their child that she would never hold in her arms.

Closing her eyes hard and abruptly, Aurelia pushed the thought away, back and further back into her head, slamming the trunk shut with the thought inside. One breath in, deep and slow, one breath out, heavy and controlled, she managed, pushing the panic away. This was not a time for tears, nor was it a time for panic.

Sirius, she suddenly thought with alarm. Soft dark curls, stormy eyes and teasing smirks. Soft, broken Sirius in a cold, empty cell, dementors sucking every happy memory out of him. Taking James, Remus and Peter away from him. Taking away Marlene, Regulus, Mia and Monty. Taking away late nights by the lake, pranks in the great hall, Pink Floyd on New Year's Eve, and dance parties in a Scottish family library. Taking away soft hugs, violent drunken kisses in a bar, light blissful kisses on the floor of a library, even hurtful stupid sex in a damn loo. Taking away her, ripping Aurelia away from him when she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

Close the trunk, she told herself, taking a few controlled breaths again, shoving Sirius to the back of her mind – leaving an empty void; one she needed to fill with other things before he came rushing back. Tea, spilt tea. The girl swallowed hard, failing to rid herself of the thick lump in her throat, before getting to her feet to fetch a rag, wiping up the tea she had spilt on the table forever ago when she first saw the newspaper.

Peter, she thought, dropping her teacup into the sink where she had planned to set it down, glass crashing underneath it. Poor, sweet Peter. Peter, who couldn't take his alcohol for shit, who's curiosity always got the best of him, who teased his friends every chance he got, and who still got ridiculously excited about fireworks. Well, not anymore. Peter - curious and enthusiastic Peter - would never get the chance to be excited about anything again.

CLOSE. THE. TRUNK.

There was crushed glass all over the sink, the girl deducted, internally scolding herself for being so clumsy. She started picking up the pieces, collecting them in the now chipped teacup, quite immediately cutting her finger on a piece, red blood spilling down into the sink. Red, like Lily's hair.

Lily. The caring, concerned Head Girl who Aurelia had ran into in the dark corridors of Hogwarts at night. The young woman who gave soft hugs and asked forgiveness for unknowingly snatching James away from her. The happy bride who was supposed to have the life, the home that Aurelia had imagined for herself once. The young mother who would never get to see her child grow up, not because she had chosen it, like Aurelia, but because it had been taken away from her. Because her life had been taken away from her.

"Merlin, Aria! What happened?"

Hector Fawley grabbed his granddaughter by the shoulders, steadily pulling her away from the sink and healing the cut on her finger with a quick spell, attempting, but failing to make eye contact with the young woman.

"Aurelia. What happened?" he asked, determinedly, shaking her by the shoulders in yet another attempt to make contact with his distant granddaughter.

"I… I dropped my cup," she mumbled, absentmindedly, in response. Her mind was elsewhere. With a small child, a small innocent child – who shared far too much with the one she had chosen away, the one she would never see grow up. This child, James' child, was barely a year old and had lost everything in a single night. He'd lost his dad, his mum, and his godfather. He'd lost the chance to ever fall asleep in his mother's arms again, to laugh at his father's silly jokes, to grow up chasing three unusually friendly animals around in the garden. He'd lost everything. Everything but his life.

"Aurelia!" her grandfather demanded, and the girl slammed shut the symbolical trunk at the back of her mind yet again.

"Sorry," the girl swallowed, wiping her cheeks dry from tears she hadn't realised were falling in the first place.

"I need to leave," she mumbled, feeling herself slowly slip away again, as the teenage girl inside her head started walking towards that damn trunk. The trunk she wasn't allowed to open. The trunk that would set all hell loose.

"Nonsense, where are you going? You're clearly not in the right mind to-"

"I need to leave," she interrupted, pushing past the elderly man and making her way to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder and effectively leaving the mansion in flames.

As the young woman entered the empty apartment, yellow morning light hitting the white wall through the window, the teenage girl inside her head made her way to the closed trunk and bitterly unclasped the locks – knowing what she would find inside. James, dead. Sirius, gone. Peter, dead. Lily, dead. Harry, alone.

The blonde collapsed on the sofa, soot from the fireplace rubbing off on the knit blanket that smelled like cigarettes, expensive cologne, and dog fur – words spoken two months ago in that same apartment echoing in her head- "and you don't have to knock the next time. I have a floo connection, you know."

Before she knew it, she was soaking the blanket in tears, terrified she'd ruin it and make his scent go away – that she'd lose it, like she'd lost him. There was no way out of Azkaban. They'd thrown him in there like he was trash, a monster, which was most likely what he was telling himself. He didn't deserve that. Aurelia was sure he hadn't… he couldn't have… Sirius was innocent. He had lost his brother and been thrown into Azkaban for it – and it would be too much for him. For the kind, loving boy who had picked her books up from the floor, who had put her back together when she was bleeding, who had held her every time her world had seemed to fall apart- but who wasn't there to hold her now that it actually had. Sirius, who'd never know how much she loved him – because she'd been too stupid, selfish and weak to actually tell him.

Aurelia couldn't breathe. It was as though the room had run out of oxygen, or as though there were strong hands squeezing around her neck, when in fact – she was just breathing too damn fast, panicking. Quivering, the young woman sat up in the sofa, slowly and heavily taking a deep breath, holding it in, and trying to let it out without shaking.

Wiping her face with the palms of her hands, Aurelia inspected the apartment with dimmed vision, more tears forming in her eyes instantly. There was a wrapped gift on the dining table, wrapped in red paper with a golden bow on top. PADS, she could make out from the note tied to it. Biting down hard on her lip, she realized it was November 1st, and in just two days, Sirius would be spending his birthday in the presence of nobody but himself. Himself and dementors, ripping his mind apart, when he was supposed to be here with James, Peter, Lily and Harry. With Regulus, Remus, and Aurelia herself. He was supposed to be happy, and now Aurelia knew that there was a good chance he never would be again.

With weak steps, the young woman made her way into the kitchen, once again losing her breath upon seeing the photograph stuck to the wall. It couldn't have been taken long ago, she figured, as the young boy in the photo was sitting up on his own, smiling widely as he touched the black fur of the big dog lying in front of him on the floor. He looked so much like James; this small boy with black, messy hair and an uncontained smile seemed to carry the same warmth and radiance his father did. Had.

As the blonde fell down onto the same kitchen floor James had found her on that Christmas nearly two years ago now, she understood how wrong she had been. While James was gone, and their child had been gone for a long time, there was something of him left. She hadn't lost all of him. Harry was still alive. Sirius was still alive, and once again she tried telling herself that this was not a time for tears. That it was not a time for panic. Sirius and Harry were still alive, and they had lost more than she had. Which meant she couldn't fall apart, not when there was something she could do.

Some hours later, Aurelia Fawley found herself at the docks where they sent the boats off to Azkaban, not entirely sure how she had ended up there, but entirely sure that there was nowhere else she could go. She needed to see him, and she knew he needed her. He needed to know he wasn't alone, that there were people out here – waiting for him.

"Excuse me," she managed, as she approached an auror working on the prisoner transport that was about to leave.

"I was wondering if you could take me with you. I need to see a friend, Sirius Black, they took him in last night and I-"

"Miss, this is Azkaban prison. We don't take any visitors. Especially today. I don't think you understand how many of these fuckers we're getting now-"

"I work at the Wizengamot, I understand perfectly," she defended, but was interrupted yet again.

"Then, respectfully, I suggest you go back to where you're needed and do your job."