Life in Prison

"I think I'm drowning

Asphyxiated

I wanna break this spell

That you've created." - Muse

The last time I checked, Sirius Black was a murdering traitor. What the hell was he doing walking around Diagon Alley?

I watched as the infamous murderer slowly made his way up the street passing snow covered shops to stop in front of Quidditch Supply. With one hand pressed against the window and his forehead inches from the glass, his breath swirled around his face before sticking to the transparent surface. A long, slender finger lazily drew squiggles and circles on the cloudy window absentmindedly. He continued to stare into the display case for another full minute before using his sleeve to wipe away the art he created.

Fascinated I watched as he turned and continued up the street, only twenty feet away from my spot in front of Marette's, a pub known most notably for its scantily clad barmaids. Gone was the curiosity that had previously frozen my steps, and it its place a knot of fear gathered in the pit of my stomach. I wiggled my toes nervously before casually turning away from the convict and heading for the pub door. Seconds later, an arm reached around my back and long slender fingers grasped the handle. I froze in place and squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to move--almost for a second believing that if I kept my eyes closed he wouldn't see me. My pulse beat harshly in my chest as I waited, painfully aware of the prolonged silence.

"Ahem."

I weighed my chances of turning invisible in the next five seconds.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Damn. Wishful thinking. I slowly turned around, silently praying to the heavens to protect me from any bodily harm. I watched as he retracted his hand from clutching the handle behind me. My eyes slowly drifted up his arm to his shoulder before finally resting on his face. I sucked in a lung-full of air and exhaled shakily.

"Is there a problem?"

I meekly shook my head and continued to gawk at him. He was more attractive than I had imagined--nothing like his wanted poster. It was no wonder they never caught him.

"Would you mind moving a smidgen to the side, love? I can't seem to get past the brick wall you've put up." He smiled roguishly, his ebony hair falling haphazardly into his eyes.

"Ah, yes, sorry." I said quietly before stepping aside to let him pass. "My mistake."

He flashed me a wary smile before opening the door and stepping inside the smoke-filled pub. I let out the breath I was holding. He hadn't killed me. Thank Merlin for small miracles. Reaching into my jacket pocket I pulled out my cigs and lighter. Forgetting the promise I'd made to myself earlier that week, I lit up, sucked in a deep, shaky breath, and closed my eyes. I felt the familiar sensations of nicotine shoot through my body and sighed in relief. It had been too long, I thought, fondly sucking on the fag. I watched as the officials doused the fire lamps lining the street one by one until only the light shining through Marette's windows was visible.

I dropped my cigarette to the ground before stomping my foot on it, grinding it into the dirty snow. Turning around I walked back into the dimly lit pub and headed towards the bar, conscientiously avoiding the back of the room where I suspected he'd been seated. Once I reached the bar, I shed my coat and drape it over a chair before signing the logbook. I glanced up to check my reflection in the mirror. My cropped brown hair was wind swept and my cheeks were a fiery red from the cold outside. I ran my fingers through my hair as I headed over to the host's stand in front of the door.

As a host, I didn't have to wear the regular uniform the rest of the barmaids had to wear. Their black little skirts and barely there vests were a privilege that I had to earn. Personally, I would rather not look like a slag. As my mom would have said, "No job should require you to wear less clothing than you would when visiting your grandmother." My father on the other hand was a man of few words. He loved three things in life, his family, golfing, and sleeping, and he was very proficient in two of the three. Needless to say, he was a rather poor golfer. Despite his shortcomings, he was an excellent father. When I was nine, I wanted to be a dentist. Their little tools were the perfect size for my petite hands. When my dad discovered my passion for dental hygiene, he took me to visit his dentist for an entire day. He missed an entire day of work just for me. He always thought I'd do great things. So far, all I've amounted to is a hostess, and a pretty bad one at that.

When he and mom died when I was fifteen, I was left with a pretty large life insurance check. I had no clue they had even filed for one of those. I took the money that was left and bought an airline ticket from Columbus to New York to London. One way. I just wanted to get rid of the hurt and leave the pain and death behind me. But what I found was something wild and amazing. I found magic.

I suppose you could say that I stumbled across magic in a most peculiar way. I was job hunting on King Street when I saw a man, dressed in what I now know to be a cloak, disappear into thin air in between a large bookstore and a sweets shop. Not believing my eyes, I walked towards the empty space and stuck my hand into the opening. It disappeared just like the man. I'm ashamed to admit that I let out a horrible scream and tumbled into the opening headfirst. Unbeknownst to me, it was just my luck that I happened to fall right on top of the Minister of Magic. He offered to help me up and we got to talking. He asked me about my job-hunting, and I asked him about magic. He helped me apply at the unemployment offices in Diagon Alley, and I explained to him the exact function of a rubber chicken. Eventually I found myself a suitable apartment just several blocks away from Marette's, where I ended up getting a job. So there I was, a muggle in Diagon Alley. Who would have thought? Although, I had to admit, a muggle in Diagon Alley was a little bit more reasonable than Sirius Black in Diagon Alley. Why hadn't anyone arrested him yet? I darted a nervous look over my shoulder towards the back of the room. There he was sitting in the corner by the fire drinking a mug of ale.

The bell jingled signally that a customer had arrived. I turned around and faced the door with a fake smile plastered on my face. I was immediately taken aback. The biggest man I had ever seen walked through the door. Over nine feet tall and many feet wide, this man was exactly what I would have pictured a giant to be, but seeing as I had never actually seen a giant, I kept my mouth shut for fear of offending him. He smiled at me and pointed to the back of the pub, signaling that the rest of his party was already there. I watched as he carefully ducked his head to keep from hitting it on the ceiling as he walked to the back of the room and took a seat at Sirius Black's table.

Having nothing else to do, I watched for several minutes as the two odd men conversed in what I assumed to be hushed tones. I snapped out of my daze when I noticed they were both looking at me looking at them. Embarrassed, I ducked my head and busied myself with straightening out the menus. I chanced a look up and saw that the large man had gone back to talking, but Black was still looking at me. I returned his gaze until he ducked his head and focused his attention on the large man.

I shook my head and went back to work.

Several days later, stepping outside my flat, I found it was a sunny, beautiful day in downtown London for once, and I was going to make the most of it. I whistled in tune to the music blaring from a boom box hiked up on the shoulder of a rough looking youth. Across the street, standing on the corner of Kensington and Berber, a group of teens beat boxed to the music. As I ambled down the street, fragments of their lyrics drifted towards me.

Here we go we'll start right now

Follow me I think you know how

Remember you're a vital part

Keep it real, straight from the heart

Leep bop doom ba doom doom

I nodded my head in beat with the rhythm before continuing on down the street, stopping every once and a while to pick the dandelions lining the sidewalk. I let my mind wander, as it was likely to do, and set my body on autopilot. I wondered briefly where Sirius Black might be at that very moment, and whether he had really massacred Peter Pettigrew. I had heard all the gruesome details from Marette, but he seemed more interested in how only a finger was left of Peter than in telling me the whole story from the beginning. Why did Black kill him, and how did he escape from the wizarding prison? I'd heard that Azkaban was impossible to be broken out of. Did he have help?

Dark questions stirred in my mind in contrast to my bright, happy surroundings. I continued to ponder the mystery as I slipped into the Leaky Cauldron unnoticed by other muggles. Almost immediately I sensed something was wrong. The air smelled sickeningly sweet and hung in damp clouds around the lit candles scattered throughout the room. The pub was empty with chairs and tables overturned and shattered bottles laying in pieces on the ground. The room was in a state of disarray like I had never seen before. I quickly walked to the back of the building and stood in the alley facing a great brick wall. The putrid sweet smell was stronger near the bricks.

I stood staring at the wall for several minutes wondering how I was going to get in without Tom when the wall shuttered and the bricks fell into place to create an arch. Standing before me were several men dressed in black robes and wearing white masks. Terrified, I stood completely still until one of them grabbed me by my neck and pulled me flush against his body. He smelled of cigar smoke and sweat. Without a word, he raised his wand and pointed it at my wrists, muttering a faint incantation. He did the same with my ankles before pointing his wand between my eyes and whispering another spell. All went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a shoddy-looking room still tied up, only this time I was bound to another person. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came ringing from my open lips. I took a deep breath to try again.

"It won't work."

I swiveled around to stare at the figure leaning against the barred window, his face shadowed. His straight white teeth were the only things visible in the dark. He grinned at me wickedly before stepping out from the cover of the shadow. He features were harsh. A long, straight nose and sharp cheekbones were crowded on his handsome face, while bright blue eyes contrasted his midnight black hair. His robes were of the finest material and his shoes glistened in the moonlight spilling from the now clear sky. He sauntered towards me, his robes billowing in a non-existing wind. He leaned down and touched his fingertips to my lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked laughing a deep, mirthless laugh. "Maybe I can help you out with that."

He flicked his wand and my vocal chords restricted before returning to their normal size. I cleared my throat, relieved that I could make noises again. Nobody had ever cast a spell on me before. I felt so powerless. I licked my dry lips before opening my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by a moan.

"Mmmhhmm."

I twisted my head as far as I could without snapping something out of place, but couldn't see the person behind me. The dark man crossed behind me to get a look at the other prisoner. I heard him mutter something under his breath before the moaner jerked awake.

"Ahh. There we go, traitor. Have a nice kip?" He laughed his harsh laugh again.

"You bastard. You sick, twisted arsehole. What have you done?"

The man smirked before casting a look in my direction. "Nothing...yet."

As if noticing my presence for the first time, the man tied to my back twisted his head around to look at me. Turning my head to match his, I got my first look at my cellmate. It was none other than the man I had been speculating about hours before. Sirius Black's dark eyes pierced mine before they flashed in recognition and then horror. The last thing I saw was a wand pointed at my face before a flash of light once more enveloped my consciousness.