A Memory Of Shadows

15 - Fight like a girl

They were too late. Almost. As they apparated in front of the building that held the Malfoy business offices, they were greeted by chaos. Smoke, the sound of shattering glass, and a witch running out of the building, screaming for help. As they rushed through the foyer, Verin's ears started drumming, the rush of adrenaline picking up her heartbeat to forgotten heights. The Welcome Wizard stood on the wide stairs that snaked around a beautiful elevator, ducking from a blast from above as he helped another witch to guide people down. The witch had her wand raised upward, focused on something Verin did not see. She magical shielded everyone on the stairs from flying rubber and astray spells as they made their way down the stairs, covering their heads for protection. Harry's arm wrapped around her upper arm. Verin had stormed past him, wand out, but he pulled her back and forced her to look at him. "No, Verin. Stay here, help them get everyone out. I need you to stay out of the line of fire. You are not a trained Auror." Harry ran up the stairs and past the woman, wasting no time to throw himself into the midst of the attack. He did not even wait for her response. You are not a trained Auror.

It took so much for her to think straight. Battles always merged into a series of intuitive attacks and actions. No matter how planned the attack was, in the chaos, one's fear zoned it all out. That was why training was crucial. Verin did as she was told, guiding people through the rubble and out. But as the fighting heated up upstairs, no one came down anymore. No Aurors in sight. Minutes ticked by. By Merlin's Beard, where are they?, Verin thought.

Suddenly the railing just above them exploded. The woman on the stairs shrieked and Verin turned to her in time to see she had been hit. Blood ran down her forehead, soon soaking her blouse. Verin helped the Welcome Wizard catch the witch, who was about to faint and guided them both down the stairs. "Take her out and look after the people outside. Quick! Help will arrive soon," she instructed, hoping her words were true. Either way, as she stood there, fine dust and rubble nestled on her curls, Verin decided to join the fight. Somewhere, from a dark corner of her mind, an unfazed stillness emerged, settling beneath her skin.

No, she was not a trained Auror. But she had been trained. Brutally. As much as Verin had tried – still tried- to forget that part of her life, it had happened. It was still part of her. She looked down to her shoes and clicked her tongue. Not her smartest choice for what was about to come, especially being so rusty. Everything would hurt afterwards. If there was an afterwards.

Of course, Verin had not been able to picture herself having tea with friends after Azkaban, but she had also not pictured getting herself involved in any sort of duel. So quickly. She wasn't scared, exactly. For Draco, yes, but not for herself or for her skills. Dueling had been such a large part of her training; she didn't even have to think about what to do. She simply reacted. It came so naturally to her, what if fighting was like a drug to her? An Addiction you, once overcome, could never go back to. Not even a little bit. Unless you wanted to relapse. Stop it, Verin. You need to help them, she scolded herself. Rambling had never helped anyone. And then, not allowing herself another moment of doubt, Verin leaped up the stairs, two steps at a time, her steps echoing through the foyer.

The former Death Eater had not even placed her deep green heels with the cutest golden bow on the last step. A spell hit the ceiling above her, dust and rubble raining onto. Wonderful. Covering her head with one arm for protection, Verin shot a spell back into the direction the spell had come from, satisfied she heard a choked shriek. From the corner of her eye, she saw another movement and flicked her wand, sending a vicious curse over her shoulders. Verin caught sight of a wardrobe and made her way over, climbing over its and bits what had once been a lavish interior, no doubt. Black marble, gold, heavy materials, leather. An expensive looking vase with a gigantic bouquet of exotic flowers courtesy of Narcissa, the table it once stood on rolled onto its side as if it had been used as a shield. Verin sent another couple of curses to various sides and shrugged her cloak off. One Stupefy here, one flick of the wand there, another Depulso there and her cloak floated onto a hanger and into the wardrobe, next to what she knew to be the Malfoy men's cloaks. She had no idea where her weird sass came from, she did not remember ever being this arrogant in a fight.