A Memory Of Shadows

8- Insight/Inside

"Where did you get this?", his tone was sharp now, sharper than it ever had been during their past meetings. It was the first glimpse of his nature as an Auror she had caught. With her, he had always been a little boring, rattling through questions efficiently. Now he emitted an air of threat, a kind of no bullshit attitude.

Verin shrugged, still standing in front his desk with her coat and the Daily Prophet in hand. She waved with the latter. "Like I said, foul owl mail." Fitzroy opened the letter carefully, scanning the words. He loosened a very colourful string of curse words under his breath before sliding his chair backwards.

"Impressive," she complimented, not having heard some of the words since her first Hogwarts years. The Auror just glared at her before turning his attention elsewhere. "Harry," he called, and Verin felt her heart plummet once again, "I need you to look at this."

This had to be the worst joke. One trip to Diagon Alley. One trip to buy ONE stupid box of Bertie Bott's Beans and a few essentials. Now here she was, one meeting with Draco, a break down, an insulting front page article, one threat letter, an appointment at the MoM AND one super- duper chosen Harry Potter later.

This was exactly why some people did not want to leave their bed.

Verin tilted her head, watching the scene in front her unfold as her chocolate curls lazily fell from her shoulders. Something was very wrong. The other Auror approached, grabbing the letter out of Fitzroy's hand, and scanning it just as he had.

Apparently five years was not an awfully long time for people to change. Because, just as Draco, Potter looked exactly as she remembered from the last time she had seen him. Still a little boyish with his disheveled hair and green eyes, still a little rough and unpolished. What had changed was his reaction the room. He felt less lost to her. Back then, although their paths had barely crossed, she always had this uncomfortable vibe coming from him. Like he did not know where or if he belonged. That sense of restless search for answers. Verin assumed he must have been found the answers, whether it was in the defeat of the Dark Lord, his wife or his job.

"Where did you get this?", Harry's eyes darted first to Fitzroy, then to her. He must have not realized who she was before, because it took a moment for recognition to settle in his eyes. His Eyes narrowed to slits, head slightly nodding. "Miss Yaxley," he acknowledged her dryly, a vary of emotions crossing his face and wafting towards her. "Mr. Potter," she greeted back, equally strained and with no intention of answering this question again.

They had never really talked or interacted with each other on a level that created memories. Verin had been two years ahead of him at Hogwarts and always been more of a bystander in the happenings surrounding him and her housemates, her friends. Yet there was an odd familiarity about this, him being a constant presence in her life. She did not feel the disgust or resentment coming off him as she had expected. He just studied her, as if trying to figure her out.

It seemed to answer his question as well, as he did not repeat it. He just sighed, "I will get Robards," he sounded frustrated, already turning away. "Interrogation is free, maybe that is a better place to chat."

Robards. Interrogation. Chat.

Verin stood frozen. Maybe she should have read the article. Or caught up on what she had missed the last years more. Find out how things had changed, how people had moved on. Then maybe, maybe, she would have an inkling, an idea what exactly was happening here. Fitzroy and Potter, while a little shocked, did not seem surprised. She didn't know what to think.

Her raw anger had made her careless. She had not prepared herself enough, not shielded herself as she should have. Thoughts and emotions that were not her own tickled on her skin. It confused her, not really able to tell how to react now. Verin noticed herself zone out. She had to quickly do something before she couldn't pull out anymore.