Shadows

"It's not the shade we should be cast in

It's the light and the obstacle that cast it," – Hozier

The summer had not felt long; it had snatched its light away in a blink of an eye. On the cusp of autumn fading in, darker evenings settling. Summer skies a hazy memory for whom had time to note it.

A plume of smoke rose, it drifted into the inky blackness. The only source of illumination was a slither of the moon's silver light, which was reflected against a pale hand that grasped a cigarette, the orange tip glowed against the surrounding darkness. The owner of the hand was obscured by a cloak. He had positioned himself into a wild hawthorn hedgerow that allowed him to be concealed, whilst simultaneously giving him vantage point.

Less than a hundred metres ahead of him lay a grand entrance, imposing wrought-iron gates. They protected a driveway that was gravelled, and well-kept, topiary hedges lined every corner leading up to the large manor house. Which, in his opinion, was far to ostentatious and a little gaudy looking. His attention had fallen to his left arm, where it had begun to burn and itch.

You really think that is enough to have me running to you, Snakeface? Why on Earth do you think I am stood here, as if I have nothing better to do?

His dragonhide boots came down to grind the cigarette butt into the ground, stomping out its flame, where he heard a loud crack. Retreating further into the hedgerow he saw a figure walking at a fast pace. The figure had a light, long plait that ran down his back.

Yaxley! Recognition hit the man observing the other. Oh Yaxley, you are much like a rat; go feed your master with your lies.

Yaxley had soon scuttled his way onside the manor. The man hidden in the hedgerow allowed a few minutes to pass before following the previous man's footsteps. Boots crashed against the gravel, his stride wide and filled with confidence as he came out of his hiding place and travelled onwards. It was only a few short moments until he came across the wrought-iron gates. He mumbled a few quiet words, just before the gates dissolved into smoke and allowed him entrance onto the grounds it protected. White peacocks casually strutted amongst the manicured lawns.

He bit his lip as a small laugh escaped. Trust Lucius Malfoy to own white peacocks – they certainly reflect his personality, and if he could conjure a Patronus they would be his.

Above him lay an imposing manor that had diamond-pained windows, which had begun to cast small squares of light onto the manor's shadow. The front door swung open upon his appearance whilst being greeted by several pale eyes, whom were staring at him from the wall. A few of the portraits sneered at him His response was to simply chuckle, well aware that his blood status was the result of their sneers, and anyhow, most of them had been dead for several centuries, why Lucius kept them upon his walls was beyond his comprehension. Perhaps, it was something to do with wealth? A topic that often brought him discomfort. Descendant and lavishness were just unnecessary, a simple framed photograph of an important loved one was enough for him, no need for expensive oil paintings.

He turned away from the portraits to face a large ebony door that had bronze handles adorned to it. A pale hand came out to turn a handle with anticipation. He slid the door open and glided into the cavernous room, which had an ornate table situated in the centre, where many sat around it.

A voice pierced through the tension that had begun to grow. "Severus – here!"

Snape felt over seventy pairs of eyes fell on him, which made him feel a slight bang of anxiety. His ebony eyes engaged with a fiery pair of slits, ones which had beckoned him over to a seat near him.

"My lord," Severus replied. He exhaled in order to clear his mind; he wanted his full concentration on occluding his mind against the Snake's penetrative forces.

Severus gracefully found his seat next to his master, Voldemort had conveniently placed himself at the head of the table in a throne-like chair. There was a long shadow that was cast against the middle of the dinning table, just above of the shadow lay a woman suspended in the air. She spun around slowly as if she were a pig on a spit.

"What information do you have for me, Severus?"

"My Lord, the Order intend to move Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall." Severus stiffened at his finished the last of his sentence, as once again, all eyes had fallen on him, despite this he had managed to calmly reflect his master's stance by maintaining eye contact with only himself.

"Saturday nightfall – where did you source this information from?"

"The source we previously discussed, my Lord," Severus held back a small smirk. He enjoyed knowing only he and Voldemort were aware of 'the source' being Severus himself.

"Good, very good!" Voldemort praised his faithful follower.

Severus watched as the rat leaned forward in the hope, he would catch Voldemort's attention. It was very clearly written across Yaxley's face his dislike to Severus being his master's sole attention. Yaxley had a pleading-yet-smug look about him that made Severus want to burst into laughter.

Pathetic creature! I think you are perhaps more a shrew, as we already have a rat sat amongst us.

"My lord—" Yaxley stated, pausing in order to wait for Voldemort to respond to his calling, but when he did not Yaxley continued. "I have conflicting information, Dawlish, the Auror, let it slip that Potter will not be moved until a day before his seventeenth birthday."

Snape's mouth twisted into a thin smirk as he turned his attention from Yaxley back to his master.

"My source informed that this information would be fed to lay a false trail. Clearly Dawlish has had a Confondus charm place on him once again—"

Yaxley rudely cut Snape off by talking over Severus.

"I assure you, my lord, Dawlish was extremely certain!"

Snape waited for Yaxley to pause, before contradicting him, "Naturally, if the man has been Confounded, he will be certain. The Order stopped trusting the Ministry as they believe we have managed to infiltrate it," Severus nonchalantly stated.

From the back of the room there was a rather horrifying giggle being admitted from a watery-eyed short, fat man. He took a seat to the left of Yaxley and slammed his fist against his on thigh. "The Order finally have something right!" Pettigrew snorted.

Pettigrew was ignored. Severus kept his focus on Voldemort, knowing that the man never gave much away, apart from occasionally his eyes betrayed him. Those were the moments Severus was on the lookout for as it told him more about his master than anything else. Yaxley had begun to say a few words to contradict Severus.

Voldemort responded by raising his grey-coloured hand to stop hum. Severus could never doubt the fear and control that Voldemort could command with a simple hand gesture, if it had been anyone else, he would have been mildly impressed by Voldemort's power, but hatred marred his opinion.

"Where do they plan to hide the boy next?"

"I believe it to be an Order member," Snape sighed. "According to my source, once the boy is there, he will be untouchable, unless the Ministry has fallen by then." Severus felt as if he was a tape recorder reeling off information in a monotone voice. He sat himself back, to ensure the connection with the Snake's eyes broken.

Severus watched as blonde haired Yaxley sat himself forward in his chair. The focus of the room then shifted, Yaxley was centre of attention. "My Lord, please don't forget that it is indeed happening – that I have good news for you – I succeeded in placing a curse on Thickness."

Severus' mind had begun to wander having to listen to Yaxley's tripe. His eyes rose up passed the floating woman, whom was perfectly framing the bottom of the Malfoy family's portrait. Severus particularly focused on the fine details of the portrait, the elder Malfoy was central. Lucius Malfoy's demeanour was stiff and seemed rather uncomfortable when painted in oils, but his face seemed to be much softer, as if he was almost smiling and quite handsome. Severus allowed his eyes to drop from the painting to the real-life Lucius Malfoy. Pale blue eyes seemed withdrawn and tired, but he still looked as handsome as his painting, their eyes briefly locked,

Lucius' pale eyes gazed over at Severus in a pleading soft fashion. Severus offered him a soft curl of the lips that indicated a smile, before he withdrew his focus back onto Malfoy portrait.

I do wonder if Yaxley realises he will not be in the Dark Lord's favour after defying him? Severus smirked at the very thought of Yaxley being at the wrath of Voldemort, unusually Severus was feeling sadistically smug that it was Yaxley's turn. Severus disliked most of the Death Eaters – the Malfoys were an exception – but, Yaxley was a special case, Severus despised him.

Over the years, Yaxley and Severus had a turbulent relationship. Yaxley had been slightly older than Severus, as he had been in Lucius' year at Hogwarts; he had used this to his advantage. Severus had been in his second year, Yaxley in his sixth year. Severus had been malnourished, small and his personal hygiene lacked –boarding on neglectful – Yaxley had seen these qualities and made fun of Severus.

Severus may have been small back then, but he knew how to physically brawl. Yaxley had been rather surprised when Severus had reached his limit and had lunged for him. Severus had shocked the pureblood, as he was not particularly skilled with physical fighting, only duelling. He knew he had the upper hand if they had duelled. Severus had attacked Yaxley furthermore by throwing a few punches to his nose, which had broken. It could be seen that his nose was still crooked from where Severus had punched him.

As the years went on, Yaxley had tried to retaliate when there had been no one else around, but Severus had the upper hand, as he had been determined to be stronger – magically and physically. As of late, Yaxley just enjoyed the opportunity to outshine Severus whenever summoned by the Dark Lord.