The Stranger

Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and
Show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the stranger

But we love to try them on
Well we all fall in love
But we disregard the danger
Though we share so many secrets
There are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised
That you never saw the stranger

Silently, the man sat in his cell. He sat and he thought. He thought of strategies and unanswered questions. Sometimes he thought of the sun or flying, but for the most part, he thought of rats. Not just rats, but a specific rat. And by the sound of it, he wasn't alone.

Sometimes he woke in the night. He heard things. The mutters and cries, which generally went unheard, were listened to.

Thin, jagged lines, which grew shorter with time, suggested a time keeping process. He'd only been there a year and a half, but a year and half might as well be forever in Azkaban. He sighed, and his general stance suggested boredom.

His first few months in Azkaban had been hard. The constant presence of Dementors outside his door weighing on him at first. But time had worn on, and he grew stronger. He was still very weak, but he was stronger. Eventually, he relearned to change into a dog. It was a small comfort in a cell alone, but a comfort all the same. Canines have milder emotions. He was less sensed and more comfortable as a dog.

Well, time wore on and the hundred jagged lines turned to thousands. Time keeping had turned into a type of a hobby where all other hopes had failed him. He marked the days and thought of past friends and present enemies. Twelve years had turned into forever.

But then he heard footsteps.

"Good morning, Minister," Sirius greeted hoarsely; he wasn't used to talking anymore. He had been Junior Minister when Black had entered the jail.

Sirius had no idea whether it was morning or night. Though he kept a steady time keeping process, he could never keep exact hours. However, Cornelius Fudge was the type of man to inspect a jail early in the morning. With luck, he would be through and out before all the occupants had awoken.

"Good morning," he said steadily, trying not to eye Sirius. Twelve years had certainly not weighed on him as he had suspected.

Sirius glanced down. "Is that the Daily Prophet?"

Cornelius stared at it. Finally, "…Yes."

"Are you finished with it? I do miss the crossword," he said, a hint of boredom ringing through his voice. Twelve years in a cell, keeping track of time, and pondering over rats did that to you.

He stared at the paper some more, then handed it over. "Actually, I am."

"Good day to you, Minister," he said pleasantly, sinking back into his cell with the newspaper.

Thoughts of the sun, and flying, and drinks at The Three Broomsticks struck him. Relics of the past had a way of reminding you of better times. The moment was shortened as a Dementor seemed to sniff the air.

Sirius sighed. On the front page was a family of nine. He scanned the picture, taking in the details. The father was balding, the son wore a Head Boy badge, another kept a rat on his shoulder… A scruffy looking rat, which was missing a toe on its front foot… A rat that looked vaguely familiar. Sirius looked closer.

"I don't believe it," he breathed.

~+~+~+~

One summer night Sirius sat in his cell, patiently waiting for his dinner. It was never late; Dementors were good at that. They were most unpleasant creatures, but for lack of anything else to say, they were reliable.

They drew near, feeding off his emotions. Like one may shutter at the flickering of a beetle's wings, he shivered. There were some feelings even twelve years of Azkaban couldn't destroy.

He switched to a dog. On time or not, he was about to make them unreliable. He knew they couldn't feel him as well, and so he slipped through the bars. He was thin, and made the escape easily. Apart from the Dementors, Azkaban was never well protected; it didn't have to be. There was no hope in Azkaban. When most of its occupants were stark mad and it was only a matter of time before the rest were it didn't need protection. Nobody could escape from Azkaban.

And nobody had… until that day.

~+~+~+~

"Mama?"

"Yes, dear?"

Time weighed on the woman. She must have married young because she was in her late twenties, and she cradled a child, let two chase each other, a third color, and fourth stand in front of her. That was five children, and possibly a sixth on the way.

"I want a pony!"

"Well, you can have a pony when you get older."

"I want a pony now!" the girl demanded, stomping her foot.

The woman chuckled a bit and pulled the girl into a motherly hug. "We'll talk about it," she eased, kissing her forehead.

Vala observed the family; it was odd to see a woman near her age have so many children. She couldn't have children. She and Saxon had complications in that department. As Fae had said before, Saxon suffered from a well-known disease called "Short Man's Complex" and Vala herself had the hips of a boy scout. And somehow that suited her just fine. It was wrong to raise children into a loveless family. That's how you got poor souls like Grant with secrets and demons to hide. No, she was perfectly fine without children.

She sipped her tea and cringed.

"If you don't like it, then don't drink it," Fae said evenly, reading over a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Vala lowered her cup.

"Well would you look at that," Fae muttered.

"What?" Vala inquired, sloshing the tea around and attempting to finish it in one last gulp.

"Our Sirius Black seems to have escaped from Azkaban," she said casually, dropping the paper on the table for Vala to see.

She almost sprayed her tea across the table. Painfully, she swallowed. Holding a hand to her mouth, she gasped, "What?"

"Amazingly nobody saw anything, not that Dementors can see anything, but you get my meaning… They can sense things." She plucked up the paper. "Quite a shock to the Ministry, and all of the Wizarding World I'm sure. It's never been done before--a successful escape, I mean."

"Well, I should suspect so!" Vala exclaimed. "Most men go crazy within a few weeks!"

"I daresay it doesn't take quite that long," she replied crisply. "Charming picture they've got here, though I must admit I've seen better. Why… You can't even recognize the poor chap."

Vala stared at the paper, her hands fidgeting with her robes. Fae tried not to frown. Maybe Grant had been right. Twelve years is a long time, but if Sirius could break from his prison then perhaps Vala could too.

"Well, it's getting late," she folded up the paper and grabbed her cloak, "We better be off." She started for the door.

Vala hurried after her. She stopped Fae in the street. "How can you take this so casually?" she asked in disbelief.

"Me? Why wouldn't I?"

"He's, I mean, he's--Oh come on, Fae, he's Sirius Black!"

"So? I didn't sleep with him," she said, gesturing to herself.

"What?" she gasped. "Do you honestly think I, that I--Oh, Fae, honestly!"

Fae stared at her oddly. Then she shrugged and continued to walk away, fixing her cloak in the process.

"Wait!" Vala half-called, striding alongside her. "You don't think that I--that I sleep in other beds, do you? I mean, do I give off that impression?" She still tugged at and wrung the midsection of her robes.

Fae shook her head. "No, not at all." She stopped. "Look, don't take it so personally. It was only an assumption."

"But why would you think that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just thought Sirius was different."

Vala fell silent. At length, "He was different…" she began distantly, then snapping back, "But what did I know? I was sixteen."

Fae shifted the collar of her cloak. "Yes, but now you're twenty-eight. Twelve years can really change a person. You're different now, smarter, more understanding."

Somberly, Vala shook her head. "No, twelve years have passed and I'm just as clueless as I was. I'm lonely, childless, and I'm married to a man who only gets colder with age. Some things never change."

Words failing her, Fae remained silent.

"But what's the use?" she asked, walking away, her hands finally falling to her sides. She threw up a hand lazily, only reaching her waist, then dropping down again. "I forgot how to fight a long time ago. It's just as well."

They walked on in silence, each carrying a personal debate.

"Fae, I was wondering…" she began slowly.

"Yes?"

"How are things with you and Grant?"

Fae smiled slightly. "Well, as always."

"When will the wedding be, then?" she asked, trying to keep a casual tone.

Fae didn't say anything for awhile. Then, "There won't be one."

"But I thought you-"

"Oh, I have no doubt that there will be one eventually. I've seen it. However, Grant has some inner demons he needs to deal with… And I'm willing to wait for him."

"You know," Vala began with a smirk, "I never would have suspected this at school."

"Who would've? Grant knew, but I didn't. He was always more sure about his emotions… Amazing, really."

"Can't you see those type of things?" Vala asked curiously.

Fae shook her head, a thoughtful expression on. "No, the mind works in most unusual ways. I never looked into Grant's mind if I could avoid it. And though I did see us together I never though much of it. After all, we were friends… Why wouldn't he be in my visions?"

"So when did you know?"

A rich smile crossed her lips. "I didn't know until I kissed him, and if you remember when that was…"

The smile infected Vala. "Who could forget? Possibly the most affectionate situation at my wedding." She paused thoughtfully then finished, "Though the honeymoon definitely held more amusing ones… But you know, if I could relive any of them it'd definitely be when Grant bashed in Saccade's head."

"That makes two of us," Fae agreed.

Again, they walked quietly, each remembering the night from their perspective.

"Would you like to come with me tomorrow and see Remus off?" Vala asked, seemingly at random.

"Where's he going?" Fae asked curiously.

"Hogwarts."

"Oh?"

"Yes… He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Really now."

"Mm-Hm, would you like to come?"

"Yeah sure, I'll be there."

~+~+~+~

"Where have you been? It's damn near six, and you're yet to be fitted for your dress!"

"I was fitted last week… It'll only take me a minute to change," Vala muttered, hurrying past Saxon.

Saxon glared after her then directed his gaze to Fae. "What are you staring at?" he snapped.

Fae frowned. She walked past Saxon, and followed Vala in a slowed pace. She needed time to think. Saxon had once been bearable, but with age came anger and possessiveness. He'd learned to control his wife like one would control the radio. Turn the knob left and it silences, turn it right and it screams.

Saxon favored his left. Sometimes late at night he preferred his right. And as a husband he had the right. At least, in this family he did.

Remus didn't know, of course. To think Vala had gotten mixed up in that mess? It'd break his heart. Eventually, he'd get over the heartbreak, but then the real hysterics would begin. And at that point, not even Vala would be able to control him.

Fae sighed. Vala was so strong, if only she knew it. She rapped her knuckles on the door. "Vala?"

"Come on in, Fae!"

"Actually," she poked her head in, "I was just--here, let me help you with that." She entered the room, unthinkingly leaving the door open. With skilled hands, she laced up the back of Vala's dress and sleeves. The dress tried desperately to flatter her small chest, but succeed little. It cut open on her upper back, and the sleeves tied on either side at the shoulders, connecting to a stiff choker. The sleeves gloved her hands in a pointed angle, linking around her middle fingers. Tightly, the dress wrapped itself around her, only releasing at the ankles for her to walk.

"What were you saying?" Vala asked.

"Oh, I was just leaving. Will you be alright on your own?"

"Of course I will," she replied, looking herself over in the mirror. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, with all that has happened today I thought you might be a bit off balance. You know, with Sirius escaping and…" she closed her mouth, how could she put it? "With everything else that's been going on," she tried.

Just say it, it makes it more real, Vala sighed. "It's alright, Fae," she said, turning. "I don't want children. It's better this way."

"I know, but…"

"Yes, I know," Vala said, sweeping towards the bed and taking a seat. "It's my third and we really had a hope for this one."

Fae sat down next to her.

"Saxon wants a son so bad, but I'm so weak I can't even give him that."

"Oh, Vala you're not weak," she soothed, resting a hand on her shoulder. "This type of thing happens all the time."

"Does it, Fae? Does it really?" Vala asked hollowly. Unexpectedly, she rounded on her. "Three miscarriages? Is that common?"

"Vala-"

"No really, is it? One I can understand, two even, but three?" she continued. She stood up and walked to the window. Looking out, "Go away, I'd like to be alone."

"Vala…" Fae half-pleaded, half-reasoned.

"Go. Away," she commanded icily.

Fae sighed, standing up. "If you need me you know where to reach me."

Vala stood unmoving, staring unblinkingly at the landscape.

Quietly, Fae left her alone.

Why me? she asked herself listlessly. What did I ever do? Her eyes dropped to her belly, she rubbed a hand across it. Three wishes, three strikes, three cards… Three's not so lucky; three's your last chance, and if you don't succeed you lose.