A Memory Of Shadows

7- Bright yellow mornings

Verin groaned, her head throbbing in an aftermath of too much fire whiskey. To be fair, after five years of not drinking, even half a glass might have thrown her off already. It was almost noon as Ebbie had sneaked in, placing a breakfast tray next to her onto the bed, some letters neatly tucked into a little rack in one corner.

Verin pulled herself up, watching the house elf carefully opening the lavender curtains. Lavender had been her favorite colour in her teenage years. Now, the colour made her feel uneasy. She poured herself some tea and spilled cream on top, stirring it as she caught sight of a small glass vial with a reddish liquid inside. "What is this?", she addressed the house elf, who gathered up the clothes she had just left on the floor last night. "Ebbie prepared Miss Verin a potion for headaches, Miss Verin," the house elf whispered, already guessing how Verin would react to a loud voice. "Ebbie thought maybe Miss Verin might like something against the headache, Miss Verin. Ebbie added some honey as well, so it does not taste so foul."

Foul? Verin uncorked the stopper and sniffed. Yikes. It did smell foul. Sighing, she pinched her nose and downed it in one large sip. It was bitter and tasted like...yikes she didn't even want to think about it too much. Thankfully, it was the added honey that dominated the aftertaste.

"Ebbie", Verin changed the topic, placing the vial onto the furthest corner of the tray, "I want you to clean out the Master suite out today. The Furniture can go into storage, as well as the pictures. Destroy the rest. Curtains, my father's clothes, the tapestry, tiles in the bathroom. I want it all gone."

"Of course, Miss Verin", Ebbie bowed and left the room, giving Verin space to enjoy her breakfast and read her mail. Three letters and the Daily Prophet. She reached for the first one, the seal of the Ministry glaring at her from the parchment.

"Dear Miss Yaxley,

Please be informed that your monthly appointment at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, MoM, London, regarding your lifestyle and well-being following your release of Azkaban has been moved to today due to the urgency at hand.

Please find yourself present at 3pm sharp in the offices of the Department. Your interrogation today will be held by Head Auror Gawain Robards. Your assigned case Auror, Mr. Caelan Fitzroy, will also be present as per usual.

Kind regards,

..."

Verin starred at the letter, frowning. What urgency at hand? What were they talking about? Her appointment was supposed to be two blissful weeks from now.

Still confused, Verin reached for the next letter. It held no information about the sender, just a seal she did not recognize. A Wand in front of a sun, embedded in deep yellow wax. With a burrowed brow, she carefully pried the envelop open. It was written in the same yellow as the seal, screaming from the pages in a way it made her eyes hurt.

But that was not what had her jump from the bed, gasping. Her heart plummeted to the floor, then picked up racing, a full-blown panic attack sending her breathing in a havoc without her behind able to hold on to anything.

"We saw you, Yaxley. Prancing through Diagon Alley as if you were not the murderer you are. The Ministry might not do anything, letting rotten criminals walk about like this. The Daily Prophet has outed you already.

We are watching you. We are coming for you."

With shaking hands and vision blurring, Verin scrambled onto her bed, reaching for the Daily Prophet. A picture from her caption after the Battle of Hogwarts, her robes torn, her eyes haunted and face dirty, being led away beside her father, was splashed across the entire front page.

"DEATH EATER YAXLEY FREE TO ROAM AGAIN"

She snarled at it. A wave of rage hit through her wall of anxiety and shattered it.

How dare they.

It was one thing to deal with shame and guilt and anxiety. One thing to deal with the silence and her own rightful losses. The first of her adult life spent first as a Death Eater through sheer fear to make her own choice and then imprisonment. She had accepted it, dealt it with it, and survived. She had and would pay in almost every way they asked of her. Verin had known the second she had accepted that blasted Mark on her arm that her future was to be formed of consequences of her actions. But she would not, for one second, let herself be terrorized.

Verin didn't even bother to read the article. 15 minutes later she was showered, dressed and on her way to the Auror office.

In a blurring vision of light blue and grey, Verin crossed the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic towards the elevators. It was 1pm. There was no way she would wait for her 3 pm appointment.

As she waited for the elevator, Verin tucked the paper and letter beneath her arm, pulling off her dove grey gloves. She had been surprisingly quick at the wand registration and though the wizard on duty at the security post looked at her funny, she faced no trouble passing through the gate. Impatiently tapping her foot on the floor, its echo running through the room, she revised her strategy. So far, all she had come up with as a plan was storming the place and let off some steam. It did include the possibility of her being thrown back to where she had come from three months ago, or, if she did not manage to suppress the fury bubbling inside her, St. Mungo's Mental Ward. It did not include what happened if she were not to control her rising Slytherin attitude. Which, beneath all the low-ladylike-voice-and-reserved-demeanor, she had a ton of. Maybe she'd just blow up and be done with it. Deep breath, Verin.

"Good morning, Mr. Fitzroy," Verin breathed, staring down on the focused Auror hunched over his desk. Blue eyes slowly widening at his sight met hers. "Miss Yaxley!", he exclaimed surprised and she almost rolled her eyes. Almost. "We have not expected you to arrive before the later afternoon." Verin pulled her hat pin of the thick felt, adorned with simple light blue flowers and small feathers on grey, and placed the hat on some seemingly random pile of files.

"Well, I was awoken by some fowl mail delivery owls. Do you really expect me to just sleep in and wait for some oddly timed appointment to arrive?"

"Sleep in? I...Miss Yaxley, the owl has been sent not more than an hour ago. I did not expect anyone to be, uhm, well...", he scratched his head, unable to find a proper way to start the conversation. It must have been quite fascinating how she carefully opened the clasps of her cloak, all those grey pieces revealing a beautiful, light blue wool dress. He watched her every move. Was he waiting for an attack?

"I do not concern myself with the matters of the poor and their daily routines, Mr. Fitzroy, "she breathed again, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. "Neither should you concern yourself with mine. Now, I believe you wanted me to offer this seat?"

He seemed to collect himself now, her snarky attitude pulling him back into action. "I told you before that attitude does not help you, Miss Yaxley. And while it is something to be discussed sooner rather than later, I do doubt it calls for storming in here like you just did." He was already tired of her, annoyed to not be listened to. He leaned back in his chair, scanning her up and down. "No", she agreed, "it isn't." Verin pulled out the envelop and placed it, bright yellow seal first, onto the table. "But I believe this is."

She watched the colour leave his face, irritation now seeped through with shock and a kind of fury that seemed to resemble her own.