So, yeah, I'm back with another one of these. I don't have much to say. I'm just playing around with writing right now and figured I'd share, so don't be afraid to tell me what you think about this one.


Eight cigarette butts laid dead in the ashtray in the center of the table in the one private room of the White Wyvern pub in Knockturn Alley. The eight cigarettes had all been smoked in a very short period of time by the lone young woman in the room. She'd also downed two bottles of firewhiskey by herself in the forty minutes or so she'd been in the room, tapping her toes and chewing her fingernails nervously.

If one saw this young woman on the street, no one would peg her as the sort to hang around in Knockturn Alley, especially in the seediest pub in Knockturn Alley. She was far too….well, to be frank, she was far too pretty to be the kind of person to be here. She had features that were timelessly beautiful - full lips, well-sculpted cheeks, clear sea-green eyes framed with thick, dark, lashes, a nose that was neither too long nor too wide, and golden-brown curls practically confined to a french braid down her back. She didn't look like the kind of young woman who'd smoke eight cigarettes and drink two bottles of firewhiskey by herself in less than an hour, especially in such a place.

Releasing a sigh, the young woman pulled up the sleeve of her ratty leather jacket to check her watch. It was a well-loved watch that had been through it's share of wear and tear, the very watch she'd received when she came of age nearly nine years ago. And the time on it read 1:43 A.M.

The time didn't seem to comfort the young woman. If anything, it frustrated her more, causing her to frantically paw through the small purse she wore cross-body style, until she pulled out a small, palm-sized mirror. It was a two-way mirror, or in her case, a three-way mirror.

"C'mon, one of you bloody idiots better fucking answer," she muttered into the glass, shaking it as if it would make someone respond.

No one did.

Frustrated, she grumbled, stuffing the mirror back into her fanged purse. She stood and started to storm out of the private room, but just as she did, the curtain burst open. Two young wizards, about her age, more or less, came storming in. The two were breathing heavily, dusting the dirt off their black garments, as they shoved past her to take their seats.

"Where the hell have you been?!" the girl inquired. Half of her voice was full of anger, the other half full of something like concern. "You're nearly an hour behind, we said we'd meet here an hour ago, and I've -"

"Oh, fuck off with the nagging!" the first, dark-haired wizard shot back with a dismissive hand gesture. "That's all you do, just fucking talk at us, O'Callaghan…."

"Ignore him," the second, white-blonde wizard said, still pacing. "We're late because of him, because he just couldn't control himself out there…."

"Shut the hell up," spat the first wizard again. Looking to the hunchbacked bar wizard who was bringing more drinks around, he hollered, "And you, get the fuck out of here!"

The old wizard was startled with the yelling, nearly knocking over one of the bottles of firewhiskey. He would've, too, if his blunder hadn't been fixed by the young witch called O'Callaghan. Even so, he quickly scurried out of the room, leaving the three to their own private devices.

"I'm going to have to tell her sooner or later, mate," the blonde one said.

"Then fucking tell her," responded the dark haired one. "She'll just go squealing to the Ministry, won't she?"

The blonde haired one and O'Callaghan exchanged hard glances.

"I don't think so," he finally concluded.

"Well, we're going to make sure she doesn't tell anyone, hm?" the dark haired wizard said, rising to his feet. "Get your wand ready, Norwood."

"For what? I don't think -" the one called Norwood fumbled.

"Get. Your. Fucking. Wand. Norwood," the dark haired wizard commanded. It was clear that he was not playing around as he got to his feet and grabbed O'Callaghan's hand harshly and abruptly. "We're making an Unbreakable Vow."

Both O'Callaghan's and Norwood's eyes nearly fell out of their faces. Both were frozen in place, staring at the dark haired wizard who looked furious and serious as he gripped O'Callaghan's hand in his, hard.

"Why the hell are we doing that, Marley?" Norwood inquired.

"Because I want to make sure she doesn't snitch," Marley retorted quickly.
"She wouldn't," Norwood said, sure of his words. "I know Kathleen, she wouldn't…."

"I wouldn't," Kathleen O'Callaghan said.

Her voice was noticeably lower than the voices of Norwood and Marley, and there was both seriousness and fear in her tone and expression. She was scared, yes, but she was also trying to convince Marley that she certainly would not go running to the Ministry to turn them in. After all, if she did that, she was bound to go to Azkaban too.

"Well, she definitely won't after this," Marley said. It was obvious he wasn't changing his mind here. And O'Callaghan and Norwood were never going to make him change his mind. "Get over here, Norwood."

Norwood stepped closer, gulping. Marley pulled O'Callaghan to her knees as her mind raced, trying to process the hell hole of a situation she'd gotten herself into.

"I still don't think this is necessary," Norwood said nervously. "Kathleen's proven herself so far, she hasn't -"

"She's been alright," Marley grunted, looking over Kathleen with harsh eyes. "But she's still too soft to be trusted. Too morally just, too goody-two-shoes to be trusted not to snitch when I tell her that I murdered those two rich pieces of shit back there."

Kathleen felt her heart pumping so hard and fast that she thought she'd keel over and die right then and there. Marley just killed two people. Yes, she'd done her fair share of shit with these two, but she never imagined they'd go so far as killing anyone, she hadn't signed up for murder….she was holding the hand of a murderer right now, she was about to make an Unbreakable Vow with a murderer….

Marley laughed coldly in her face. "I told you, she's too good to be trusted not to tell. I can see it in her face."
"Alex," Kathleen said, giving Marley a pleading look. "I don't think I can -"

"Do you want your cut of the money from the job tonight?" Marley asked. "Don't you need the money to save your niece dying in the hospital in America?"

Kathleen swallowed hard, heart and eyes falling.

"I do," she admitted. "I need the money."

"Then shut up and take the vow with me," Marley said. "Because if you don't, you're not getting any money, and I'll have it seen that you're in Azkaban sooner than soon, because you've done more than your share of crimes worthy of a nice life sentence or even a nice little kiss from the Dementors. And if that happens, you and I both know that niece of yours is good as dead. So are you gonna do it, or not?"

An eternity passed. And she nodded.

"Start it, Norwood," Marley demanded.

Norwood nodded, his face uncomfortable, unsure, and scared. He lowered his wand until the tip touched their two hands, red, rope-like light beginning to encircle their hands, illuminating the dingy room.

Kathleen was numb. She forced herself to be numb in that moment because if she wasn't, she didn't know if she could handle what was happening.

"Do you, Kathleen O'Callaghan, promise not to speak a word of what I've done to anyone while we're all alive?"

"...I do."

"And do you promise never to say anything to incriminate me to the Ministry?"

"I do."

"And that if anything happens, that you will be the one who faces the charges for my crimes in front of the Wizengamot?"

"I do."

Marley looked to Norwood, who attempted to swallow the enormous lump that had been forming in his throat.

"Then it is done," Norwood concluded.

The bright red light intensified, strangling the hands of O'Callaghan and Marley together, before finally blowing out completely.

It was done.