Tonight was the full moon. Tomorrow night, Sirius would be going on the hunt for Wormtail. He couldn't hear a howling werewolf coming from the Shrieking Shack. This was the only place he thought Moony could be but Dumbledore must have another place for him to transform safely.
The dementors were especially active tonight, so he retreated to his cave. He had managed to steal quite a bit to make his cave more homely in the last month and a half. Many residents of the village had left due to the unbearable presence of the guards of Azkaban patrolling their streets. As a result, he managed to get his paws on food, water, blankets, and more that had been left behind. It was also how he managed to get his hands on a subscriber copy of Witch Weekly for Marisol's article about their night together. The story had been much longer than the standard editorial or article the magazine had published and he had read it numerous times as it painted him as quite the lover. As he had nothing left to do in his preparations for tomorrow night, he pulled it out to read again.
A Night of Black Romance
By Marisol Selic
Let us start by admitting to ourselves that the Black Family is filled with gorgeous people. The late Arcturus and Pollux Black were both silver foxes even up until their dying days. Orion and Walburga were also lookers in a very aristocratic sense, outside of the cruelty that seemed to live in their eyes and actions. The latest generations of Blacks are quite something as well.
The three Black sisters; Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda are all beautiful. Even if the middle sister is a murderer, sadist, and quite insane; she may be the best-looking of the three. Regulus Black was in his 6th year when I started at Hogwarts but I remember he had older girls fawning all over him.
However, even Regulus couldn't beat his older brother in terms of popularity and I have recently spoken with many witches (who asked to remain anonymous), who passed on to me details about his more passionate side both while they were in school and before his arrest.
Onto my story.
I was invited to follow Minister Fudge on his tour of Azkaban along with a select group of other reporters. Some say he was doing it to make up for his cockups the previous year in handling the petrification situation at Hogwarts, and ironically enough putting another man in Azkaban without trial, Rubeus Hagrid - Groundskeeper for Hogwarts. He claimed it was just temporary, but then so is every prisoner above maximum security. The DMLE has its own holding cells outside the prison, so there is no reason for this to have happened unless Fudge has a taste for locking people up unjustly.
The faces I saw in that prison were a reminder that we should all do whatever we can to follow the laws of this country to make sure we never end up there, even for the smallest offense. Though as we've learned, sometimes you don't need to have been convicted of a crime to become a resident of the prison. The inmates there, even the ones in minimum security, looked starved of human contact, all of them in isolation for punishment and protection from the dementors, unable to leave their cells, confined to calling out to neighbors they would never see as their only human contact. All day and double at night, their happy memories were ripped away and consumed by specters of death stalking the halls of the prison. However, when we arrived at Sirius Black's cell, we met with quite a different man than any other inmates we had seen. He was relaxed, made jokes, and while his face had the strain of thirteen years living with the dementors, his eyes still held a spark in them and he still had the swagger and attractiveness of a Black.
When the Minister called him out for being the right hand of You-Know-Who, he yelled down the hall and taunted his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, who believed she was the most loyal of the Death Eaters. Still, when the handsome murderer flirted with me, it did turn me on. Fudge was right, sometimes I do like a bad boy. He asked Fudge for a newspaper, which I had, and the Minister asked me to give it to him. Then we left.
I knew I would never entertain a genuine notion of bedding Black, but the feelings were still there. It was a fantasy, something entertained only in the deep recesses of my mind. After he escaped, I heard of the party at Stoatshead Pub where people were dressing up as Black. I figured that would be the safest way to indulge in this forbidden reverie. My girlfriends and I applied color-changing charms to some very skin-tight dresses of ours to give them prison stripes and jumped into the floo.
We arrived fashionably late and the party was in full swing with the Hobgoblins having just kicked off their set. The lead singer, Stubby Boardman, looked quite a bit like a younger Sirius Black and had turned the evening into a night of muggle music featuring songs with the theme of 'Black' and people were loving it. All except some Pureblood supremacists who 'Stubby' ridiculed for wanting to fuck their cousins and about Sirius Black's hot cousins… which in hindsight was a bit creepy and gross, knowing he may have been truthful about his desires for the Black sisters, his cousins.
After the Pureblood hecklers had been shot down and the audience laughed them out of the pub, he took a break to go for a piss in the woods. However, when he returned, he made a snidget-line straight for where I was sitting at the bar and struck up a conversation. Other than being an attractive musician, something else stood out to me in the man. I would say it's something similar to the aura of victory - a man who has just finished winning a dueling competition or a Quidditch match, and they're just exuding the spirit of triumph. It was confidence, victory, and power; all manifested in a way that filled every sense in my body.
It was intoxicating.
He saddled up next to me at the bar and asked if I had any requests. I went for what I thought would be an easy one and asked him to play The Man in Black by Johnny Cash. He admitted not knowing all the lyrics but would improvise with the 'Sirius Black version' of the song. A modest and honest musician? Go figure.
The lead guitarist struck up the tune as Stubby sang along. He seemed to be telling a tale, something of an adventure filled with danger and violence, betrayal and vengeance. I don't remember the details, but it made me think of a battle between darkness and evil if that makes any sense. The song ended with a jab about Dumbledore which seemed to be a bit lighter in tone.
From there the party kicked up a notch with plenty of other great jail or black-themed music. My girlfriends ended up going home with other men they had met, all of them dressed as impersonators of Sirius Black, just not the man himself. I think both 'Stubby' and I were already planning our afterparty before they finished playing. While both of us had suitors trying to get our attention, he was singing for me and I was dancing for him.
Of course, we didn't just carry each other off immediately after they closed the party down with Elvis Presley's Jailhouse Rock. There was quite a bit of heavy flirting at first. I had a drink ready for him by the time he pushed through the cheering crowd to reach me. I ended up telling him about meeting Sirius Black before his escape which he must have been eating up as he played it off like he wasn't the same man.
He asked me if any of the look-alikes in the pub were anything close to the real thing, smiling like an imp the whole time. I told him about how Sirius the prisoner had flirted with me and that it had turned me on, again, I'm sure I was feeding his ego something terrible.
He took an ice cube from my glass and ran it down my neck as he asked if I would like to fulfill the fantasy of being with an escaped prisoner, one who didn't look exactly like Sirius Black, but something close enough. We had been dancing around that the whole night so I dragged the man out of the pub and planted a deep kiss on his lips before using a portkey back to my place.
I lost track of how long we spent in my entrance hall, just making out, but after some time trying to get his clothes off he just did it himself and then quickly dissolved me of mine as well. He did not look like someone in prison for thirteen years. The other prisoners in Azkaban looked starved; not of food - as part of the tour showed the reporters I was with that they were given plenty of the blandest but filling slop I've ever tasted in my life. Despite that, prisoners there still looked like their bodies were hungry for human contact. Black's body looked like he had been working as a sailor for the last thirteen years.
I tried to fall into the roleplay of a woman who had picked up a man fresh out of prison, asking if the sight before him was something he missed while incarcerated, and he made a crack about having magazines there. Before I could make a nasty retort, he corrected himself and paid the appropriate compliments.
The man that I thought was the lead singer of the Hobgoblins scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder to take me to the bedroom. However, in his confidence, he forgot that he had no idea where to go in my apartment. I tried to direct him, but he ended up in the bathroom, then my study, then the kitchen. Statistically, he should have gotten to the bedroom by random guessing, but he didn't.
Eventually, he gave up finding the bedroom and laid me on my kitchen counter after casting a cushioning charm on the surface. Again, in hindsight, he must have stolen a wand that didn't like him from somewhere, as it took three attempts to cast it properly. I just attributed it to heavy drinking at the time.
My thoughts of what it must be like to be with a man just out of prison were completely different from my experience with Sirius Black. I imagined that he would ravish me like someone who hadn't had a sip of water and was dying of thirst. Instead, it felt like he was on death row and eating his final meal. Every taste, every sensation, he savored. Not just for himself, but for me as well. I could tell that he was enjoying my pleasure as much as he was relishing his own. Once I realized he wasn't going for a quickie, I relaxed and enjoyed myself quite a bit more.
The past lovers of Sirius Black I corresponded with before writing this told me that they occasionally experienced this side of him, but before Azkaban, he was more playful and experimental, sometimes in a bad way. The only negatives I found to the lovemaking of Sirius Black were the few love bites he gave me.
We must have stayed in the kitchen for at least an hour before I moved to the bedroom. He seemed to vanish for a moment as I changed locations, only to show up with refreshments, looted from my kitchen. After a snack break and rehydration, the marathon resumed with another two hours of passion that I don't know how I stayed awake for, but I did and I lost count of the number of times we finished and started again, but eventually, we both passed out.
When the morning came, and I felt the sun on my face, I also felt a cold and empty spot in the bed next to me. I hadn't expected a musician to have breakfast with me, but it would have been nice. After a good stretch, I noticed the note on the nightstand. It read:
Thanks for the wonderful evening. It was everything I needed as a free man.
I feel like I must now flee the country, with the Aurors on my tail and The Grim stalking my shadow.
Sorry for all the love bites, though I did warn you that I might do that. Thanks for the newspaper.
-Sirius Black
The last part was what revealed his identity to me as when he flirted with me in Azkaban, he had offered me an 'exclusive interview' and said, "I don't bite… wait, actually, I bite a lot." I had also given him the newspaper, at Fudge's request. After the shock wore off, I dressed and called the Aurors, as any good citizen of this country would do.
That was the night I spent with the mass murderer Sirius Black. I'm sure you're all disappointed that some details of my encounter were conspicuously missing. I had assumed that when I signed the contract with Witch Weekly I would be informing the readers about more quantifiable details of my encounter. Things like sizes, lengths, counts, times, positions, and movements. However, in the last few weeks, the editors told me that I shouldn't do that as too many young, impressionable witches have started reading this 'adult' magazine. So it's not my fault, that blame belongs to all of you that should be still reading TEEN witch weekly.
Outside of the suffering he has committed, I don't see that he is the psychopath that the government has portrayed him as over the years. Maybe that's because of my healthy and justified dislike of the current administration. Maybe it's just that one mugshot we've all seen of him laughing maniacally or the idea that one man could have killed thirteen people with a single spell, but I didn't see the madness in him during our encounter. He performed, sang, laughed, made passionate love, and did not at any point become a man that would inspire fear in those around him.
I do wonder what he was doing in Ottery St. Catchpole that night. His note said he wanted to leave the country, but we've had reports of him heading north since then. What could be his reason for heading so far south from Azkaban just to go north again? I doubt it was for the party and there's no way he could have known I would be there as I didn't arrive until after him.
We may never know.
Accompanying the article, there was a picture of Marisol, dolled up to look like she had been for their night together. They had done a bit more for the glamor shot with a striped prison dress that looked like it was tailor-made for this picture, extra makeup, and her hair styled for the photo. She moved around and posed in the photo that was supposed to pass for a prison cell at Azkaban, though it of course looked nothing like it.
Sirius smiled before putting down the magazine and refocused himself on the task of the following night.
"You'll know soon enough why I was down there," he said aloud to the empty cave. "Everyone will know soon."
