Chapter Text
Aurora Mac'Starv was a terrible woman, according to her own opinions. She had never made a point of being nice, hardworking, or understanding, the world belonged to selfish people, so she would be one. Life had never been kind to her, forcing her to work since she was a child and away from any possibility of studying. Of a good future. Still, she wasn't stupid, much less fragile. Nothing in this insane world made her back down, even in her worst moments.
From all that experience and the obvious, she knew she was in trouble.
She bent over as she felt a new wave of contractions. Her belly was on fire, and her vision was too blurry to let her see. Her legs were weak, making her lean against the wall as she staggered down the hall.
That child didn't just want to be born, he wanted to rip her in half.
She rolled her eyes, irritated by the situation. Where were those damn witches? What was the use of magical powers if they didn't make them faster?
"Miss Mac'Starv."
The woman glared at the strange old wizard.
"Call me that again, and I'll stick this wand right up your ass."
For various reasons, Albus Dumbledore didn't care for the words, just greeted her with a standard smile as he raised his hands to indicate the people beside him who looked as strange as he did. Two women accompanied him. One of them carried a bag and wore robes that classified her as some kind of nurse. The other witch, on the other hand, wore more formal robes and carried a worried expression.
"These are..."
"I don't care," Aurora interrupted him, leaning against the sofa. "Where were you two? I've been in pain for hours!"
"Sorry we're late, we're at war," the older woman replied, acquiring a judgmental look.
"Wasn't the war done with that pale snake?" She snapped through gritted teeth.
"There is still-"
Aurora interrupted her, but without meaning to. The scream escaped her mouth as a new contraction hit her without mercy. It was hurting more and more. She had never been pregnant before and had not even had contact with anyone in that situation, but she felt that she was not having normal reactions.
"This is not the time for conversation," the nurse interrupted, already approaching the woman. "Come on, darling, show me your room. You need to lie down."
The woman did not object. She gladly accepted the other person's help and used her as support to her room, which was not far away. It was a relatively small house in a neighbourhood well away from the centre of London, not very attractive, and almost never visited, if you could count the quick visits of Dumbledore himself.
She threw herself down on the bed and allowed herself to lose focus on her surroundings. The wizards were pacing back and forth, picking up utensils, and rummaging through the rooms of their house, looking for anything that might help them with what was to come. It's not that everything was unexpected, but they weren't exactly prepared to welcome that baby two months earlier than planned.
How could it be different after all the attempts? Aurora didn't regret trying to put an end to that announced martyrdom. It was just one time because she knew she wouldn't have the courage for a second time, but it was worth it. And because it had been in vain, she had to feel at least a modicum of pride and respect for a being who had survived an abortive mixture and a fall down the stairs. "As stubborn as I am", she used to think when she felt the child move in her womb. Dumbledore didn't judge her when he heard what happened, quite the contrary, he offered help and care without saying anything. But would anyone judge her?
"Shall we call the father?" the nurse asked, rubbing a damp cloth over her face.
Aurora widened her eyes.
"No."
"The Headmaster said you don't blame the Death Eater for what happened..."
"Snape didn't rape me because he wanted to. Periede. But that doesn't make him a good man. I don't want him to have contact with that child until he's out of this life... dark and miserable."
"She's right, Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore intervened calmly. "She has a right to choose."
"As the father, he has the right to know," the other witch argued.
"Not over my dead body," Aurora snarled before screaming again.
The witch opened her mouth to complain, but before any words were said, Madam Pomfrey practically pushed her to approach the bed with a basin of water in her arms.
"This is no time for conversation, this woman is going to have a baby!"
"Madam Pomfrey is right, Minerva. We can work out the details more carefully once they're both safe," Dumbledore argued, taking something that Aurora assumed was a wand from the pocket of his large blue cloak.
And that reminded her that she couldn't wait for one later.
"No, no," she whispered desperately, struggling to raise her head at least. She wanted to look at those people. "This is not up for debate, okay? You can name her, register her, whatever the fuck you want, but don't get that kid involved in that way. Promise me. She... shit! She can't grow in that lair..."
"But how are we going to keep this a secret? She will grow up and, at some point, attend Hogwarts!" Minerva squealed indignantly.
"Secret? I didn't ask for a secret... madam... witch, whatever! I just don't owe anyone an explanation, just like this child. Let him know, I just don't want him near."
"That's it-"
Aurora screamed again, and this time she didn't stop. That child was determined to be born on that particularly cold December afternoon. Dismayed, she was limited to holding tightly the hand of the unknown witch Minerva, transforming her into her momentary safe haven.
Albus Dumbledore never approached. He didn't think he could really help, but his eyes kept straying from the panting woman on the bed, screaming as she tried to deliver the baby she never wanted and who looked nothing like the arrogant woman who had, of her own free will, thrown herself down a flight of stairs. The blond hair was now short and unkempt, and the brown eyes no longer gleamed with greed, but with pain for Severus Snape's daughter. The wise old headmaster of Hogwarts could not even imagine what the future held for such an innocent creature who would undoubtedly be thrown into the chaos and darkness of the wizarding world.
What would become of Aurora Mac'Starv's daughter with Severus Snape? Perhaps nothing more than a normal person with the same possibilities and chances as anyone else, if the eldest continued to follow his own beliefs.
The screams continued, as did the suffering. At some point between sunset and dusk, Dumbledore finally moved. After all, someone needed to stop Aurora's bleeding while Madam Pomfrey was concerned with bringing the child into the world and Minerva was trying to keep her conscious. The trio exchanged a suggestive look. No one dared put it into words, but everyone, without exception, knew that the chances were gradually diminishing.
Until, at 7:45 p.m., Aurora gave her first sigh of relief. Then, little by little, she was contaminated by worry.
" She-she 's not crying. This is a problem?"
Madam Pomfrey ran the tip of her wand along the length of the small, bloodied body in her arms and smiled.
"No, she's perfectly fine."
"Can I... can I hold her?" Aurora asked with discreet tears in her eyes.
"Well, of course, dear. It's your daughter."
The woman allowed herself a smile as she took the child in her arms and watched her in silence. She could see her smooth features, free of the rough expressions she always carried since her adolescence, but her skin was too fair and her eyes too dark, eyes that seemed to analyse her soul. She didn't know the Death Eater very well, but she felt she was holding their pure union, the result of the absence of all the bitterness impregnated in them.
"I'm not her mother... I don't deserve that title," she announced in a weary voice before casting a grim look at the others. "Using the best words, I just carried her around until she was ready."
"Aren't you going to stay with her?" Madam Pomfrey questioned in fright.
"She can't stay with me, Mrs. Pomfrey. I have a sister across town, I'm sure she'll be happy with another kid."
"Aren't you even going to name her?" Minerva insisted beside her.
Aurora thought for a moment, then smiled and stroked the child's pale, round cheeks.
"It's going to sound pretty cliché, especially to you, but I was thinking about Morgana. Morgana Faytz. Before you say anything, that was my grandma's name... the most wonderful witch I've ever known and the strongest woman too."
"I thought you were a Muggle."
Aurora frowned, wondering if she was too strict with others or if this woman had forgotten her manners somewhere before entering her home. Dumbledore seemed to read her thoughts because he cautiously intruded.
"She didn't develop the magic, Professor McGonagall."
Abortion. He could use the word, and nothing would change. But the headmaster had chosen to absorb the gentle manners that Minerva had forgotten to use. Aurora forced a smile of thanks, even though she was indifferent to the act. The little acquaintance with the witch had taught her that his kindness, apparent and immeasurable, hid a vast list of thoughts and mysteries that didn't need to be discussed.
So it was better to pretend.
Aurora took a deep breath, feeling all the strength drain from her body.
"Please, can you help her? I was still going to buy the clothes. And... you know? Do your magic to make sure she's okay."
Madam Pomfrey smiled.
"Of course, dear."
She handed the child into the nurse's arms and watched as Minerva and Minerva left.
"I don't want promises," she announced with her eyes still glued to the door, expressionless and distant. "But please, take care of her as if she were your own."
There was no response, they both knew no words were needed. Aurora knew the headmaster would do whatever was necessary for the girl, and somehow she trusted him more than anyone else she knew. For his part, Dumbledore was silent, just pondering the paths that opened up for the child and for himself from that moment on.
Minutes later, with the girl clean and tidy, Madam Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall returned to the bedroom and found the old Dumbledore standing at the foot of the bed, observing someone who was once someone who was suffocating in mistakes and sinking deeper and deeper in her own pride. Aurora Mac'Starv's body was now empty of life, but her name continued to echo in the minds of those present as the woman who would never get the chance to show her strength to the world that had demanded so much of her, leaving behind a child who, in her judgement, would have a much better life without her boring company.
Poor Aurora, she would never see how her daughter would charm everyone around her.
She would never see how Morgana Snape and her best friend Harry Potter would influence the Wizarding World from birth to death.