AN: Hello, FF and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!

Can You Take the Jump?

Chapter 65

"What can I getcha?" Lily wiped down the bar before her very first customer of the day could sit.

The man gave her the oddest stare as if he was seeing something or searching for something as he stared at her. "A Pure Malt Whiskey," he shook his head as he sat down. "Actually, make that a double," the older gentleman let out a sigh. He smelled of cigarettes, booze, and perfume.

In her weeks at her job at the Leaky Cauldron, Lily met many people who smelled of such smells, especially in the early morning, stumbling in after a very late night. She learned rather quickly not to let her judgement of people; how they looked, how they smelled, what they talked about, or how early in the day they started to drink, affect her work. There was no way she'd survive this job if she judged everyone that came in.

In fact, it was a certain someone's ability to not let their judgement of others affect their behaviour that helped Lily land this job. Tom, the infamous prickly owner of the Leaky Cauldron, had seen her name on her resume and then her face. Her interview process, one she'd painstakingly prepped and got nervous for, only consisted of one question.

"Your sister Hermione Evans?"

"Y-Yes, sir. We're twins."

He had raised his brow. "None o'that," he waved her off, "I'm Tom. No sirs or Mr.'s. Just Tom. Got it?" He threw an apron at her and that was it. She was hired.

Apparently, her sister was a frequent patron of the Leaky Cauldron last summer when she worked for Mr. Ollivander. Hermione would come in, especially on days she didn't have a lot of work and just sit at the bar, people-watching. She had even helped Tom move the tables around for better traffic of customers and set up a system of payment that worked for frequent drinkers who didn't always have the money to pay upfront.

Lily poured the man his drink. She'd seen him a few times before but usually at night. Tom's wife usually didn't let her serve him, warning her that he was quite handsy when drunk.

"BENJI!" The customer shouted a greeting to another man who walked in. "My good man! Come!" He called him and gestured for him to sit on the empty chair next to him.

Another man of similar age and the same smells grinned drunkenly as he stumbled to the seat next to Lily's first customer of the day.

"So?" He asked with excited eyes. "Did you get to see her?"

"Nah," he shook his head. "She was too busy when I went last night. I got another. She was still good, worth every knut."

Lily had perfected the art of acting like she wasn't listening when she was. It was clear that these men had just rolled out of the dark alleyways of Knockturn Alley. They had spent the night drinking and their heads stuck between the bosom or legs of a woman.

"Gah! You needed to see her. I'd sell my bloody house for another chance to fuck her."

"I've never seen you like this over a bloody girl. How good could she possibly be?"

"She's everything you could possibly imagine for a night with a whore. It's dirty, sexy, and fucking wild. She twists and bends in all ways, she sounds and reacts exactly how you'd want her to. It's like she's bloody reading your mind! And she feels…Merlin, the way she feels is bloody heaven. I fucked her so much she cried from ecstasy! I couldn't bloody get it up for 3 days after!"

"That's just 'cus you're bloody old, you fat fuck!"

Lily listened with a small sense of intrigue. Sex was a relatively taboo conversation in her family. Her parents were conservative in this sense as they didn't believe that children should know of such things. Lily was pretty sure her mother lost her virginity to her father on their wedding night.

Even though sex education wasn't a subject she was taught, Lily had read many books, and later, she would hear the gossiping stories of her friends and sisters talking about sex with their respective partners. She knew how wild and dirty sex could get, but Lily always imagined sex, the 'better' sex, to be on the more loving and sensual side.

Not that she'd know anything since she was still a virgin.

How? One might ask. Didn't Lily have a boyfriend for over 3 years?

Of course, but Lily first started dating Amos at only 13. The two had decided to wait until Lily was ready. Therefore, around the time when Lily turned 15 and Amos was 17, the two made their first attempt. Amos had put in quite a bit of effort to make it special for her with flowers, candles, and a perfectly timed schedule as Narcissa Black had been on rounds for the night. It was supposed to be the night. Her roommates helped her pick out an outfit, taught her a hair removal spell, gave her tips and tricks that they'd seen in books, and offered their contraceptive potions. She remembered how much her heart pounded simply walking out of her dorm, as though she had a neon sign above her head that screamed 'I'm going to have sex!'.

That was when she met James who'd been walking in to their dorm from quidditch practice that Thursday evening. And truly, as though she did have a neon sign that screamed those exact words, he could sense what she was planning to do for the night. She almost expected an explosion of jealousy, but it never came. Then again, James had been dating Sofia at the time.

"Is he picking you up from here?" He asked, glancing at the entranceway.

"No, I agreed to meet him there."

"Oh," he nodded slowly, his lips twitching as if he wanted to say something. "Is he getting you guys dinner? Or are you guys going on a secret date before?"

"No," Lily frowned, "that'd be silly since we just had dinner, James. And it's a school night, not Hogsmeade weekend."

"Right." He could see the anxiety and defensive anger build in her before she could even register her own emotions, so he quickly smiled. "You guys have been dating a while. You guys know each other better than anyone. I'm sure it'll be…you know…good. Great!" He grimaced as a deep blush started climbing up his neck and to his cheeks.

Her irritation lowered at his fumbling words. "Right…" Lily let out a small laugh at his embarrassment. "I'm gonna go."

Just before she left the common room, James shouted, "Wait! Before you guys…make sure he…so that you…" He smacked himself on the head.

"Was that your really sad attempt at giving me sex advice with my boyfriend?"

Lily tilted her head, watching the blush crawl higher and higher until he was completely red. It was kind of adorable.

"Perhaps I'll consider looking up what you said in a James-to-English dictionary the next time you want to have a conversation so that I can understand your incomplete sentences, but I've got to go. I'm going to be late."

"Oi! Miss!" Lily blinked as she found herself taken out of her memories and brought back to the present.

"Oh, I apologize," she walked back to the two men she'd been serving. "What can I get for you?"

"Is the kitchen open yet?" The second man asked.

"The cook is having a half day, so Arlene is filling doing the cooking this morning. I'm not quite sure if she's ready yet, would you like me to ask?"

"Arlene's cooking?!" He seemed excited, clearly having experienced Tom's wife's cooking in the past. "Well, I gotta have her pancakes, then."

Just as Lily was about to walk away to ask if Arlene was ready to take orders, she heard them whisper amongst themselves.

"Gods her red hair…" her first customer muttered. It made Lily's heart pause at her very prevalent red hair. "You know, I've had Angel before, something about her has changed. She used to act more forward when she flirted with me in her bed, but in bed, she was very meek. Now, she's meek in her seduction, but in bed…wow. I'd leave my wi—"

"Ahh," the second man covered the first man's mouth with his hand. He must've noticed Lily's frozen figure standing at the edge of the bar. "He's just a dumb drunkard. Don't mind him, sweetheart." But, when Lily's angry face didn't relent, he quickly changed his tune. "Actually, I'll do a rain check on those pancakes. C'mon you dimwit." He dragged his friend out of the Leaky, leaving Lily standing behind the bar with a confused look on her face.

…

Sirius didn't have much to do in the mornings, so he slept. He didn't have much to do in the afternoons so he idled, listened to some music, ate whatever leftovers Lily brought from the Leaky from the night before, and then slept some more. In the evenings, James would sometimes come over, they'd sometimes go out for a drink, sometimes they'd sit around and play card games, sometimes they'd just talk, then it would be time for James to pick Lily up from the Leaky and bring her back where the three of them would eat dinner with the leftover Lily brought back from work along with the food Hermione's House Elf would make in bulk for them during the weekends.

He didn't need to clean, Pinky did that thoroughly every other day.

He didn't need to work; his uncle's money had set him up for life.

He didn't need to study; his grades were stellar.

Every once in a while, he would work out. Lift some heavy weights and then put them down, put those same weights on his shoulders and squat. He would do it for hours, only to fill up the time.

He would go shopping, after all, he lived in the biggest wizarding shopping district in England. It would be a shame not to. He found all the latest shops, the best tailors, bakeries, bookshops, restaurants, and the best deals.

When the boredom of life crawled up to his eyes, making him want to punch through a wall or throw the aforementioned weight out the window, Sirius would make his way to the muggle world. He would go to record shops, the pictures, or walk through a park where he would have dozens of dogs, even the most well-trained dogs, rush to him.

He got hit on quite a lot, women and gay men alike, at the shops in Diagon Alley, in the muggle streets, parks, shops, and cinemas. Even his neighbour batted her lashes, especially after finding out Lily was not his girlfriend.

A small and angry—no, furious—part of him wanted to accept those seductions despite the lack of the slightest temptations. Even if the only reason he'd accept was to get back at Hermione. Sirius knew she'd know he betrayed her when she came back. He knew that she would take one look at him and know that he hadn't stayed faithful, know that he hadn't waited. He could imagine her hurt expression, the way she'd cry, the hope that she'd feel just half the pain he felt when she didn't return and feel a sense of relief knowing that she cared enough to get hurt. However, a bigger part of him was scared that she wouldn't react at all. She'd return to see his unfaithfulness and simply give him her cold and distant smile that said, "Good for you. Nothing you do can hurt me. Nothing you do matters to me."

The only answer he could think of was to keep busy to shorten the hours awake so that the day Hermione would return would come faster, but the boredom didn't help. It was driving him crazy. James was busy taking care of his elderly parents who weren't feeling well, and they were suffering from a summer cold that wouldn't relent. Remus was going to Germany to see how Wolfsbane was created. Peter…well Peter's family didn't really let him out of the house as the papers continued to write about stories of people's deaths.

Sirius never realized how little friends he truly had until he was alone. Even in Grimauld Place, he always had Regulus with him.

He walked the streets of Diagonalley aimlessly. He considered walking into the Leaky Cauldron and bothering Lily, but she was always too busy to hang out with him anyway. He walked and walked until he found himself at the entranceway of Knockturn Alley. The dingy and dark alley was empty during the day, unlike the bustling drunks and sex workers that stumbled around during the cover of the night.

He remembered the number of times his father also stumbled into the house late at night with an unknown woman from this alley in his arms, the two of them giggling and kissing as if there was no one else in the house that could hear them. And Sirius also remembered the morning after as the woman left the house with a bag of galleons given to her by his mother.

However, the reason he stopped at the entrance of the dark and infamous alley wasn't due to the unpleasant memories of his father's adultery, it was because of something he had told him a long time ago.

"Son, do you know what this is?" He held a galleon in front of his 3-year-old son. "Money, Sirius, is great power and there is nothing in the world that can't be bought."

There's nothing in the world that can't be bought? Nothing? Nothing at all?

This thought made him hyperaware of the heavy bag of coins on his waist, which was followed by the thought of his waist needed the weight to be lessened.

Sirius made no plans as he walked into the alley with a sense of desperation. He looked into the closed bars and brothels, searching for someone who was still around at this time of day to speak with. The place was dingy and dark, so dark from the grand buildings in Diagon Alley that it was humid, the summer sun couldn't penetrate the alleys to evaporate the moisture in the alleys of Knockturn Alley. The humidity held a stale smell of sewage, alcohol, vomit, and piss. It was enough to make him gag, but not enough to make him turn back.

He walked deeper into the alley, areas that he'd never ventured before as a dumb 3rd year who dared to enter the forbidden backstreets of Wizarding England's outcasts and discards.

He saw a man lying on the steps of a closed pub with an empty bottle in his hand. At first glance, he almost appeared dead, but a great snore escaped his large, red-tipped nose.

"E-excuse me?" Sirius gently nudged the man with his foot. "Sir?" He nudged harder when the man didn't wake from his drunken slumber. "Hey!"

The drunken man's eyes flew open wildly. Without even taking a moment to look at his surroundings, the man with yellow-tinged red eyes smashed the glass bottle on the ground and lunged forward, nearly skewering Sirius like he was a lamb kebab.

"Woah!" He jumped back, a reaction time he would not have if he hadn't been an Animagus. "Hey! What the fuck!"

"Waddaya want!" The drunk man waved his jagged bottle around. He wasn't even fully awake or sober by the looks of it, it appeared to be just a deadly instinctual reaction.

"I'll tell you when you stop waving that fucking thing around!"

The man stumbled but finally managed to focus his beady eyes on Sirius, who stood there with his hands up.

"Who're—" he burped, but up with it came some alcohol and vomit. "You." He finished his sentence as he wiped his lips.

"I came here for some information."

"Information? Ain't got none of those here. If you're looking for whores to fuck so that you can brag to your friends, come back when it's dark, the alley's littered with them."

"Come on, this is fucking Knockturn Alley where anything and anyone can be bought with some galleons." Sirius quickly made a two-step maneuver, then grabbed the drunk man's hand that held the broken bottle, and shook it out of the man's hand. "So tell me, you drunk bastard, where can I get some information?"

The man sputtered at the speed of the young man's attack. He breathed heavily not knowing what to do.

"Fine, but I won't say anything for free either. As you said, you can get anything in Knockturn as long as you have the galleons right?" The man sneered, his yellowing eyes trailing down to Sirius's luxurious clothes, the gold chains around his neck, the gold earrings dangling around his ears, and simply the aura he gave off.

Sirius sighed as he released the man. He reached into his pouch and pulled out 2 galleons and handed it to the man.

"Hmmm, I think I might know where you could go…but my alcohol-fueled brain just can't seem to remember the name…"

He pulled out 2 more galleons.

"I'm pretty sure it was called something like Darkest…umm…"

Sirius pulled out 2 more, but paused, his hand hovering over the man's greedy hand.

"These are the last two, otherwise, I'm going to beat you up and take back my other four if you don't give me the information I want."

"Deepest Desire at the main corner. Their guard is a vampire who checks everyone as they come in, but also a long-time resident. If there's something you want to know about within Knockturn or want to find someone who can find out information outside of Knockturn, he'll be your guy."

"Deepest Desire?"

"The newest and hottest place in Knockturn, also the only place that I know that might have everything you desire, including information, so long as you pay your dues."

The drunken man pocketed the gold coins and whistled off, leaving Sirius whispering the words Deepest Desire over and over again, savouring the taste of the words as they rolled off his tongue.

…

Knock knock

"Come in."

Centuries of life, especially the last few decades focused on living in Knockturn Alley, had made Laisren Byrne unfazed at the wildest debauchery that man could imagine. He'd quite literally seen it all, therefore it wasn't the different acts of sex that surprised him, it was the people that performed them that tended to shock him. He'd seen whores more flexible than gymnasts, hold their breath longer than swimmers, and ignore body odours that made his eyes tear up just for an extra knut. For anyone who thought being a whore was an easy job, they had very little understanding of the realities of sex work.

However, every once in a while, there comes a whore that makes it look all too easy.

Fake-Angel was one of those people. When she ran out of her room nearly naked with tear streaks in her eyes, trembling from fear, during her first job with the younger Lestrange, he made a bet that she wouldn't last a week.

He'd never been wrong, until that week ended, and she was still there.

Not only was she still working, but within weeks she had collected an impressive client list involving some of the most notorious and wealthy Purebloods in Wizarding England. But if he was being honest, as he watched her work, her rise to infamy didn't shock him. Her skills in recognizing what her clients desired were unbelievable. Within minutes of meeting her client, she knew exactly what type of girl her client desired. How flirty, how forward, how rough, innocent, coy, talkative, etc. However, knowing what the client wanted was only part one. The second part, and arguably more important part, was convincingly playing the part of the innocent school girl, or of the sexy dominatrix, and everything beyond and in between. She proved her top-galleon price tag with every client, with each of them rescheduling and fighting for her next availability.

Sure, the other girls and workers got jealous, but none of them could deny her level of expertise. None of them could do what she could do. She was the ultimate femme fatale.

This was the precise reason why he didn't bat an eye when he walked into her private office on the second floor of their growing notorious business. Instead of a regular chair, she was sitting on a large burly man who wore nothing but socks and a collar around his neck. A leash hung loosely off the collar and was held in her hand as she wrote the checks to their alcohol suppliers for the next month.

"Should I come back later?" He asked, glancing at the naked man, whose erect penis was leaking from the pleasure of being a chair for this girl. To think that he was paying nearly 325 galleons an hour (around 1500GBP and over 2000USD) just to be sat on…

"No," she shook her head, barely looking up from her chequebook. "Was there something you needed?"

"No, just dropping off the girls' payments for this month."

"Oh," she finally looked up from her cheques.

He frowned as the wrong icy blue eyes looked up at him. He wondered what she looked like beneath her guise as Angel. He wondered if she was as beautiful as Jordan was and if she would be able to seduce men without that mask.

"Wonderful, you can place it here."

He placed a locked ornate box that contained slips of parchment, where girls would place gossip and other bits of information they gathered from their clients as payment for her protection system.

"This means you'll get your payment tomorrow, Mr. Vampire."

"You will also get your payment tomorrow, Ms. Angel."

"Thank you," she said as a means to dismiss him, but he remained in his spot, which was unusual for him. Just because they had a working relationship didn't mean he liked her, and he was pretty sure she didn't like him. However, they did have a mutual sense of respect, which came with an understanding of their shared desire for privacy. Their interactions were usually limited to receiving what they needed from each other, asking no personal questions, and then fucking off.

"Yes?"

He glanced at the human chair beneath her.

Quick to notice his hesitation, she snapped his fingers, causing the man beneath her to rise in a hurry. The man was blindfolded, but it was harder not to recognize the frequent visitor of Knockturn Alley, Geoffrey Goyle. Even without his status as a Pureblood and the Sacred Twenty-Nine, it was hard to miss such a large man in the crowd. He stood at 187cm tall with kilos of muscle beneath a significant layer of fat. The circumference of his arm was the size of a man's head.

Who knew such a burly man's kink was to be humiliated and used by a girl not even half his size?

"I'm done with you, you're a shit chair. Can't even do something as simple as being on your hands and knees properly?"

"I-I-I'm sorry, Madame."

She yanked the leash in her hand, pulling the large man down to her eye level. She grabbed his nipple and twisted it harshly, causing him to grunt and whimper, but it was clear from the twitch between his legs that it was more from pleasure than pain.

"I hate your fucking pathetic stutter."

"I-I-I… urgh-mmph" He groaned before ejaculating over her abdomen.

Without warning, she slapped the man across the face. The sound of the slap was clear, crisp, and satisfying. Sure enough, when he glanced at the man's face, a noticeable handprint was on his cheek with scratch marks left by her nails.

He wondered if this might have pushed her over the line, where the significantly larger man would snap and retaliate against the tiny girl in front of him. There was a silence that stretched for a while.

"That will be all for tonight's session Mr. Goyle. As per usual, you may make your payment with Verma downstairs."

The tone of her voice was completely different, like a receptionist at a reputable and posh establishment; serviceable, and friendly, but also detached.

The large man quickly took off his blindfold.

"T-thank you, Mi-Mi-Miss Angel."

She nodded at his gratitude, placing his leash in his hand.

He shuffled his way to the door, but stopped, clearly desperate to say something. "N-ne-next t-time, can I b-bring the outfit f-for you t-t-t-to wear?"

"I'll see them first, and then decide." She closed the door as he left, letting out a long sigh. She quickly magicked all of his semen off of her body as one would pick lint off their clothes.

"What was it that you wanted to say?"

He blinked nearly forgetting why he'd stayed, being forced to watch that whole thing.

"Next time, I'd rather not be in the room while you conduct…business."

She paused, as it didn't occur to her that he might've not wanted to see. "Sorry, you see the other girls working all the time, so I didn't know it bothered you. I'll keep that in mind."

"I keep watch for security reasons, not because I want to."

"I see," she nodded. "Then this was incredibly rude of me. I'm very sorry, Mr. Byren."

The girl had gotten in the habit of calling him by his real name when they were alone, almost like Jordan did, but unlike his Angel, she always called him by his last name.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the way she continuously reminded him of Jordan while simultaneously being nothing like her. "We have our first information customer."

She stood alert, "Who? Where are they?"

"Downstairs."

"What did he want to know?"

He shook his head, "He knew I was a vampire the second I saw him. He was very on guard. He smelled like a dog."

She froze, which made him look up at her unusual reaction. She was staring at herself in the mirror as if to check her appearance, but the thing was, she knew her appearance was impeccable as always.

"Does he know that the payment for information is more information?"

He shook his head. "Although I don't know how much he'd know about anything. He's a young good-looking kid, just graduated or still in Hogwarts." he put his hand in the air and hovered it around his brows. "What could a child like him know of anything?"

If he wasn't a vampire, there was no way he would have caught it, but there was a discernible skip in her heartbeat and a slight increase in her heart rate.

"You know him."

She knew it wasn't a question, so she didn't bother answering.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, I just didn't expect him to come into Knockturn."

"Well, he's here."

She looked thoughtful, worried even.

"Do you want him to leave?"

"No," she sighed, "let him in."

He raised his brow, but nodded, leaving her to bring the boy.

As soon as he exited the office, she locked the room and cut off all sound from leaving so that she could vomit, then magic every inch of her office clean without being disturbed.

She wanted to lay on the couch of the office and sleep. Forever. But the murder and torture of so many muggles and muggleborns that the papers failed to mention that she had stolen from Goyle's mind were enough to make the dead rise.

She looked to the corner where Verma usually sat balancing their books to make sure that no employee was stealing from the business or simply using their rooms for sex without proper payment. The booming music below and the chatter of strangers could be heard through the walls and floor of their small second-floor office above their growing notorious business.

Hermione knew that the business would be a success, but she hadn't anticipated just how successful the whole venture would be. The business fit perfectly with the general theme of Knockturn Alley, but provided its services in an illustrious venue, unlike any of the other places in the neighbourhood. They had seen profit within the second week of opening, already paid off the line of credit they took out for renovations, already made a reputation within the community and beyond, and sex workers and customers were lined up at their doors for a taste of their business.

Perhaps it was because she had lived a life of restraint and control over her desires, but it always surprised her how much people were willing to pay for their services. The money people dished out to see her, specifically.

Her exclusive client list was getting quite long and impressive. Her skills getting more refined, her flirting is more clean and seductive, and her emotions are more in check. The better her memory manipulation became the more clients that sought her. Not only could she manipulate their memories, but their perception as well to make them believe they hadn't fallen asleep, even though they did. She could now simply look into their eyes to perform surface-level legilimency to gather information on what they wanted from their whore and what services they desired. It all helped in the art of seduction.

Word of mouth spread, and she became a commodity of their little red-light district.

She was becoming disgusted by the simple touch of men as she could feel their intent through a simple graze. Their leering eyes and grin made her want to curl up into a ball and never exit her tiny room.

But even so, she was getting used to it all. In a way, her mind was normalizing the horrors of her daily life, like a prisoner waking up in her tiny miserable cell accepting the terrible reality of her life. It was impressive how quickly the human mind, specifically her mind, adapted to trauma to survive. Although she had to admit that it was a skill that her brain was already quite accustomed to. Within the second week, Hermione was able to completely dissociate from her disgust, fear, shame, and anger. The cruelty and treachery she saw in her clients' minds, while filthy, no longer shocked her.

Knock knock

"Come in," Hermione called out, straightening herself at the desk, double checking she was not Hermione Evans, but Jordan Walsh.

She heard their shoes clacking on the floor before she looked up at their face.

"Finally, I found you."

…