Chapter 9

"Sir, I'm worried about Prisoner 20402," Blackwood said as his emerald eyes looked at the warden of Azkaban. The warden was sitting in a chair behind his desk as Blackwood stood at the front of the desk. He gave Blackwood a puzzled look and stood and went to a filing cabinet. He opened the top drawer and pulled a file out. He went back to his chair and sat down.

"Let's see," he mumbled. "Sira Volkov, blue eyes, dark-brown hair, female, life sentence, maximum security, convicted for two murders…" He thumbed through the rest of the file quickly and silently. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is her behavior, sir," Blackwood stressed. "One day she is depressed, the next, she tries to kill you, and then she is manically happy. Sometimes," he explained as concern shown in his eyes, "she signs. She actually sings, sir."

"What does she sing about?" the warden asked as he crossed his legs and put his feet up on his desk. Blackwood gave him a questioning glare, his eyes snarled, 'does it matter what she sings?'

"Mostly her life," he replied.

"Does she have a certain song that she usually sings?" the warden asked.

"Well, there is one," Blackwood explained. "It goes, 'I'm a half-blood and a traitor and I'm bored. I'm a half-blood and a traitor and I'm bored. I'm a half-blood and traitor and the Dark Lord will surely kill me 'cause I'm a half-blood and a traitor and I'm bored.'"

"Um, peculiar," the warden mumbled as he rubbed his chin.

"Sir, what do you want me to do?" Blackwood asked.

"Has her condition got steadily worse since her breakdown during her hour of exercise a month ago?" the warden asked as he started to read her file again.

"Yes it has, sir," Blackwood stated confidently as he sat down on a wooden chair near the warden's desk. "Her first month here, she did nothing. She never screamed; she never really suffered. She was just here and now, as I said earlier, her mood is constantly changing. She is unpredictable, unstable."

"Um, this is an odd case for nothing like this has ever happened before, even with the Dementors here," the warden stated as he set her file down on his desk. "I guess there are only a few things that we can do."

"Sir?" Blackwood asked as the warden stood and started to pace the room. Blackwood's eyes followed him. After a while, the warden stopped and looked at Blackwood.

"Lark, all we can do now is watch her. If you see that she is continuing to get worse, come and tell me. Are we clear?" he asked flatly as if lost in thought.

"Yes, sir," Lark Blackwood said proudly as he rose from his chair.

"Now get back to your post." With that Lark left the warden's office and headed back to the maximum security level.

"The night is coming,
"the night brings death,
"but do not fear, my love,
"for it is nothing.

"Nothing but blackness,
"nothing but dark,
"nothing but sadness,
"nothing but a knife through the heart."

Her voice filled her cell with the sad song. She didn't know what she was singing; it just came from her heart. Her voice was dark and beautiful, swelling in all the right places. Her cell door opened with a creak.

"20402," Blackwood stated as he looked at her with concern. She stopped her song abruptly.

"Yes," she said with curiosity.

"Can you please stop singing?" he asked as he closed the door behind him.

"Why? I don't have any control over it," she stated as she walked over to him. "Don't you think my singing is beautiful?"

"Yes, it's very beautiful but it's bothering the other prisoners," he said softly.

"Oh, okay," she sighed sounding defeated. "I don't mean to be rude but," she moved closer to him slowly, "you're so handsome and so well-muscled, why are you a prison guard?" She flashed her eyes at him seductively as she tilted her head a little.

"It's just what I wanted to be," Blackwood said proudly as he looked at her with a little desire. She had him right where she wanted him.

"Hmm, do you have a girlfriend or a wife? I wouldn't be surprised if a handsome, strong, caring, young man such as yourself would have one," she said passionately as she touched his upper arm.

"No, I'm single," he replied as she moved her hand to his chest. She slowly nodded her head and gazed into his eyes. There was something about her eyes that made his heart flutter.

"What's your name?" she asked sweetly as she moved into his chest, he didn't resist.

"Lark Blackwood," he whispered as his emerald eyes filled with his longing. He carefully touched her cheek and brushed away a piece of hair out of her face. "Even after suffering in Azkaban," he breathed, "you're so beautiful." She gave him a sweet smile.

"You're so sweet, Lark," she whispered kindly. He leaned in close, their lips almost touching. He seemed a little uneasy, a little unsure. She moved her hand up to his face as his mouth met hers. His lips were soft and gentle on hers but they held a passion, a hunger that he was so desperately trying to hold back. Slowly, his mouth pulled away from hers and he held her in his arms.

"Sira, hopefully you know that I'm concerned about you," he whispered into her ear. "I've never seen anyone act like you do. It's like you're a different person every day and it worries me."

"I can't control it, Lark," she said as her tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't control myself. I never used to be like this."

"It's okay, Sira. We're going to get you some help if you get any worse," Lark breathed as he released her from his arms and she stepped back away from him and went over to her cot. Slowly, she sank down on the cot as her body started to tremble. "Sira?"

"Get out of here, Lark," she hissed sinisterly as a fire burned in her eyes. Her lips twisted in a cruel snarl. "Get out!" she barked. He rushed out of the cell in an instant, slamming the door behind him with a sharp thud. A sinister smile formed on her face, her plan was going perfectly. She stopped trembling and lay down on her cot, satisfied with her work as she thought of Lark running through the halls to get her help.

Sira sat against the cool stone of the wall in the arena-like exercise area as she watched the other prisoners. It had been a week since Lark had kissed her and she had been deemed unstable and dangerous to the other guards; she had already attacked two of them. A smirk flashed across her face as she thought of how she tried to strangle one of the guards, of how her hands tightened around his thick neck, and of how he squirmed.

Lark grew more and more concerned about her. She swore that he truly did have feeling for her, but she didn't feel the same. There was no emotion in it, there was no desire. She was just using him to get what she wanted. My Lord will be pleased, something within her purred.

Yes, my Lord will be pleased, she thought back as her smirk grew colder. The darkness warmed her, comforted her, and empowered her.

"Sira, what are you doing here against the wall?" Lucius asked coldly as he sat down beside her. She noticed that there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

"I'm just thinking," she stated flatly. He gave her an unconvinced look.

"The word is you're unstable and a threat," he hissed arrogantly. "I have to say I halfway agree." She glared at him sinisterly, not believing that he really didn't know what she was doing.

"You don't know me, do you?" she asked coldly as she stood. "Besides, you have better things to do than to be thinking about me. You should be thinking about your family or, maybe, even your own life, like how you messed it up or what you've missed out on."

"What do you mean by how I messed up my life?" he snapped with anger in his grey eyes.

"How you got yourself landed in Azkaban," she hissed. She could easily see his anger, his whole body showed it. With a turn of her heel, she lifted her chin and walked away from him and over to a group of men. They weren't Death Eaters but they all looked to be in their twenties, about her age. One of them caught her eyes for he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He had long, dark, tangled hair with a streak of red in it. He looked as if he had been here for a while. "'ello, miss," he said as she walked past him. She stopped and watched at him.

"Hello," she said seductively as her blue eyes studied him.

"What's your name, beautiful?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Sira. Sira Volkov," she said proudly as she pushed some of her hair out of her face, "and who do I have you pleasure of meeting?" His smile widened a bit as he stepped closer to her.

"Call me Scabior," he replied cockily and she flashed him a small smile.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Scabior," she said kindly as she started to walk away.

"Wait," he said quickly as he grabbed her shoulder, "I need to ask you something." She turned and looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion. "Didn't you kill two wizards and aren't you a Death Eater? You seem too, 'ow do I say it, sweet." She flashed him a big smile and touched the side of his face.

"There're a lot of things that you can't tell about me, Scabior, but yes. Yes, I did," she said passionately as her eyes softened. She walked away slowly but she couldn't stifle the manic laugh that broke out of her chest.