Aisling's occasional trips down to International Cooperation were not usually viewed in a negative light. It was, after all, a chance to step out of the office, to see a few faces she might not have otherwise. On this day, though, she was far too tired for traipsing about the Ministry. Her energy, and her mood as well, still seemed to have not recovered from the stress of the holidays. She'd felt snappish at Edwin, even, which was a very good sign that this day needed to be a weekend without work or emergencies.

Unfortunately, it was a Friday. Which left half a workday before she could curl up next to Tarron and rest. And to finish that day, she would have to make it back up to her desk with the box of paperwork she had retrieved. A box just large enough to be unwieldy in her arms.

She was heading back towards the lift when a few memos slipped from the top of the box. Merlin, but that did not help. There were only a few papers strewn about, but she hardly needed something else to go wrong. With a quiet sigh, she drew her wand to gather them together.

They were floating their way back into the box when Aisling heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see just who it was. "Apologies for the mess, I-" She stopped. There was something very familiar about that face, but she could not quite place it. Or explain the particular chill it sent through her.

Piled up high and floating behind Evangeline Kuester as she walked along the corridor towards her office were magical legal journals about Russian law, Russian customs, books about dangerous plants, Carnivarous Snaplark production, distribution and laws on banned plantation throughout the UK and the world. Eva had a dull and arduous afternoon and no doubt evening to get through before she could go home to her lonely flat for the weekend and forget about international magical law, annoying colleagues and carnivorous plants until Monday morning. She’d probably see the grumpy wizard she’d been happening to spend a fair amount of time with but didn’t expect to make plans.

Ahead of her in the corridor papers flew up into the air and as the witch before her gathered them with her wand and a simple spell, she turned to make her apologies to Eva. Kuester frowned as the speech stopped abruptly and as she came closer to the witch, the lawyer’s face went a ghostly white, the colour from her cheeks vanishing as she was overcome by a strong memory.

All of a sudden she was back in a dark and damp cell hugging her bony knees to her chest as she tried to combat the cold despair and hunger. Eva blinked back the flashback and found herself staring at a former cell mate. A much healthier looking witch now with smart muggle attire and less bone visible beneath stretched skin.

“No mess. No bother.” Eva spoke quietly, trying to keep her accent as neutral and English as possible. She didn’t want this witch remembering her and wanting to talk. She averted her eyes and made to walk past.

That was not the look of someone who felt not bothered. Not at all, and Aisling expected that anyone could have seen it. But it also made some memories suddenly clearer, enough for her expression to suddenly turn pale as well. Such memories were common enough without attempting to summon them.

Though she had to wonder, why this hadn't happened before. Aisling had been back at the Ministry for some time, a decade or so. Plenty of years for recognition and the  bitterness of shared history.

Her gaze was pulled away by one lone, fluttering piece of parchment that seemed to have missed her earlier sweep. It almost looked to be trying to scurry away under a nearby desk. "It seems I missed one. I'll be out of the way in just a moment." The wand wavered slightly in her hand, but her voice was calm.

With the other witch in her way, Eva decided not to push past in a rush. Instead she stood in front of her, stiff and uncomfortable. Azkaban and the war was something to be forgotten about, ignored and pushed to the back of her memories, not forced upon her never to forget. Not brought up when a familiar face came up against her in the corridor of the department she worked in everyday. It had taken all of her strength to come back to London for fear of an unchanged ministry, or people recognising her for a mudblood that should still be in Azkaban.

But the witch before her was also of the same blood. She’d been through very similar. They’d been locked in a damp wet and cold cell together for a short while. They’d been scared and tired and empty together. They’d shared an experience that both no doubt wanted to forget forever.

Eva frowned and crossed her arms. The books hovering behind her lowered but remained in the air. At least that was one spell she remembered from before Azkaban and Europe.
“Knight?” The lawyer finally asked a question she knew the answer to. You didn’t forget a person you’d shared such an experience with. “It didn’t destroy you then?”

The last paper was finally gathered when the question came, and Aisling couldn't help that brief, tiny flinch at everything it entailed. Kuester. That was the name, the letters set away in those memories of such terror. "Not quite. It's good to see you." Good to see that someone else had survived, had made it through so much without being twisted into something unrecognizable.

She forced herself to look away from the paperwork, directly at the other woman. "It's almost time for lunch. Any chance I could convince you to join me?" The words came slowly, quietly, but she didn't look away. "Think we've rather a bit to catch up on." More than either of them wished to think of, perhaps, but she couldn't just walk away from this.

Some things couldn't be forgotten. A couple of the papers were wrinkled from the fall, and she smoothed them out, waiting.