Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Hold on Tight	By : cls2256 Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 7315 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This fic is for entertainment purposes only!

Chapter List
- 1-one
- 2-two
- 3-three
- 4-four
- 5-five
- 6-six
- 7-seven
- 8-eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-eleven
- 12-twelve
- 13-thirteen
- 14-fourteen
- 15-fifteen
- 16-sixteen
- 17-seventeen
- 18-eighteen
- 19-nineteen
- 20-twenty
- 21-twenty one
- 22-twenty two
- 23-twenty three
- 24-twenty four
- 25-twenty five
- 26-twenty six
- 27-twenty seven
- 28-twenty eight
- 29-Twenty nine
- 5
- 6
- 7
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Adult responsibilities (and some fun things) kept me longer than usual. please accept this extra long chapter as my apology!

Allie’s heart nearly lept from her chest as she sprinted down the upstairs hall towards Buckbeak’s room. Getting into this room was the only thing she could focus on for the remainder of her shift, for her (and Sirius’s) saving grace lied within the protection of a ten ton safe, guarded by the presence of the skittish hippogriff. She wasn’t sure how much money Sirius liked to keep on hand, but she knew it would at least be more than she had.
She didn’t quite understand why Sirius chose to keep his safe in Buckbeak’s room, rather than in theirs; according to him, it was to keep Kreacher from getting into it. The elf made it a point to stay far away from that room, most likely fearful of the gigantic beast that occupied it.
“What would Kreacher want with wizard’s money?” Allie asked, frowning at the safe in the corner of the room. “House Elves aren’t exactly ones to go on a shopping spree in Diagon alley.”
“Oh, I’m sure he has no need for my gold,” Sirius scoffed “Regardless, I don’t trust that slimy rat for nothing! Anything of value is safest in here with Buckbeak.”
She carried a bag of raw steak trimmings in her left hand; she’d collected them from the kitchen at the Leaky Cauldron. She figured Buckbeak would enjoy a change in menu this evening. She opened the door slowly; the hippogriff perked up and flared its nostrils. She bowed graciously, and it in return.
“I got you something special, Beaky…”
She plucked a large piece of fat from the bag, and tossed it high in the air. Buckbeak caught it gracefully, and swallowed it whole.
“How was that?” she giggled “You want some more?”
She spent a few minutes tossing Buckbeak its dinner before turning her attention to the large black safe positioned in the corner of the room. She knelt down so that her face was level with the large brass knob. The safe required a series of numbers, 3 or 4 most likely. She frowned, sighing in defeat— the combination options were infinite. She prayed Sirius hadn’t placed any security charms on the safe as she drew her wand.
“Alohomora,”
Nothing; he’d cast at least some protective enchantments. She figured this was advantageous on his part, despite it being a problem for her. She pointed her wand at the dial once more;
“Aberto,”
Once again, nothing. She let out a sharp huff and stood. She stepped back a few paces, gripping her wand with determination;
“Reducto!”
A jet of blue light blasted from her wand and hit the safe. The safe and its contents rattled so hard it shook the floor underneath. Buckbeak squawked in protest, flapping its wings irritably.
“Sorry Beaky, one more— Cistem Aperio!”
Blinding white light hit the safe, causing it to bounce and land on its side with a thunderous crash. Buckbeak squawked wildly, pounding its hooves and flapping its wings. The noises were echoed by a series of smaller yet equally as loud from down the hall. Allie’s mouth went dry as her heart skipped a beat; she wasn’t expecting any visitors.
She ran out of the room and down the hall, running straight into another person. She stumbled to regain her footing as the intruder fell backwards, limbs flailing as he collapsed. The contents of his burlap sack crashed and clanged as it fell to the ground next to him.
“Mundungus!” Allie panted, “Merlin— you gave me a fright!”
“Oh, Allie— uh— I thought you were staying with the Weasley’s…? Molly told me you were— for a few days, at least…”
Allie clutched her chest as she sucked in deep breaths, unable to answer right away. Mundungus Fletcher rose to his feet, eyes darting around as if Allie caught him in the act of something undesirable.
“I did last night, but then I decided to come home—“her eyes narrowed at the sight of him slinging his burlap sack back over his shoulder. “— what is all that?”
“Oh, nothing— just some old junk, really— an old tea set, a jewelry box, a gaudy locket—“
“’Junk’ that belongs to Sirius.” she interrupted.
Mundungus’s cheeks turned a twinge of pink. “No, well, yes technically— it’s his mother’ and brother’s stuff—“
“Did he tell you that you could have it?”
“Well, no— but he was going to throw this junk out anyhow…”
Allie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Put it back.”
“He’s not going to miss this stuff—“
“Mundungus, put it back—
“C’mon Allie!” Mundungus groaned “You really think he wants to hold onto his mother’s old rubbish? You know he’s just going to throw it out, and some of its real silver that I can make something off of. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure— I mean, look at this thing!—“ He plucked a large pendant locket out of the sack and held it up by the chain to show her. “— even my own grandmother wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this ruddy thing!”
A lightbulb went off in her brain as she stared at the locket swaying back and forth. Her eyes widened; Real silver? Make something?
“Wait, you can get money for that stuff? Real money?”
“Well, yeah,” Mundungus shrugged, tossing the locket back into the sack. “I reckon 12, maybe 13 galleons for the lot…”
Allie held her hand out, beckoning him urgently “Give it here— I can sell the lot to pay for his trial.”
“What?” Mundungus took two steps back slowly “You don’t need this junk; Sirius has the money to pay for his own trial…”
“Not that I can get to,” Allie said impatiently “Now give me that stuff.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Mundungus shrugged “A man’s gotta make a living…”
Faster than anticipated, Mundungus spun on his heel and sprinted down the hall. Allie took off running after him, shouting loud enough to wake the portrait of Mrs. Black.
“Mundungus! Stop—Give it here!”
“BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTH! VERMIN!”
Mundungus was just barely quicker. He sprinted down the stairs, out the front door and onto the lawn. He disapparated with a loud crack before she was able to catch him, leaving her standing on the front lawn bent over, palms on her thighs and panting heavily.
“Damn it.” she cursed, under her breath “Slimy bastard.”
Her calves burned from her light speed sprint as she slunk back inside and up the stairs to the portrait of Mrs. Black. It took her a moment of wrestling with the curtains to get them closed, and another few minutes of the portrait screaming in her ear before it finally quieted down.
She slowly made her way back up to Buckbeak’s room, cursing herself for not being quick enough to catch Mundungus. She plopped down on the overturned safe, resting her chin in her hands. She hunched her shoulders and let out a frustrated huff. She turned her head to look at Buckbeak, cocking its head curiously at her.
“Any chance you know the combination, Buckbeak?”
Buckbeak let out a squawk.
“Yeah,” she sighed in defeat “I didn’t think so.”

An alarm bell rang at 6:30am sharp. Sirius shot up out of a deep sleep, blinking the 9x9 cell into view. It was so familiar here, yet not at the same time. He questioned if potentially he had never left his cell here in Azkaban, and the effects of the dementors had finally driven him insane.
If this was the case, then why was he so uncomfortable with using the loo directly in the middle of his cell? He felt terribly exposed as he wandered to the toilet across from his bunk, something he’d gotten used to in his previous tenure at Azkaban prison. He hesitantly looked out his cell, snapping his eyes back immediately once he caught sight of his neighbor using his own toilet. Heat flooded his cheeks as he shook off the sight, as well as his nerves, and stepped up to the toilet.
He sighed as he relieved himself, gave himself a shake, and then pulled the flush cord. He watched as the water swirled around and around before disappearing down the pipe; he wondered if he could procure a wand, shrink himself down, and then flush himself into the North Sea.

He shook his head; a stupid thought, really.

Terrapin (accompanied by a dementor sucking all the warmth from around them) shoved a tray of food into his cell at breakfast time— a hash brown, two sausage patties, and a banana. All three were frozen solid from the dementors frosty aura, and completely inedible. He discarded his hash brown and sausages, and then tossed the banana onto his bunk; hopefully it would be edible later today.

During rec hour, he chose to sit alone on the outskirts of the prison yard. He stared up at the caged ceiling encasing the cement field for the first part of the hour, watching the dementors float aimlessly back and forth. He closed his eyes and listened to the rough water crash against the lower portion of the prison. He tried using his imagination to pretend he was lying on a beach somewhere in the sun, basking in warmth and relaxation. It didn’t work.
“Well, well, well,” said a familiar, drawling voice “home sweet home, are we?”
Sirius opened his eyes to look into the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy. His long, silvery blonde hair was dry, straw-like, and lackluster. Behind him stood two other faced he recognized— Dolohov, and Nott.
“Piss off, Malfoy,” Sirius growled. “I’m not in the mood for socializing.”
“Socializing?” Lucius scoffed. “As if I would enjoy socializing with you.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, then leaned his head back against the cement wall, and closed his eyes once more.
“What do you want then?” He said apathetically. “Because if you’re here to rub prison in my face, you might want to check where you’re at as well.”
“For now,” he drawled “tell me how it feels knowing you may never see your pathetic little friends again? The Murphy girl?...”
Sirius’s eyes shot open, and he locked his gaze with Lucius’s. He took note of the coldness of his steel grey eyes, as well as the shadowing underneath and his sallow skin; seemed the dementors were taking a toll on him in the few short weeks he’d been in this place.
“…yes, I’ve heard she’s with child, is she not?”
Sirius’s heartbeat pounded in his ears; how would that piece of information not only get back to the Death Eaters, but inside prison as well?
“…How do you know that?” he asked quietly.
“Word travels in here,” Lucius said casually. “for those on the… well, proper side of things. I do hope she pays mind to where she steps, a woman in her condition; with all those stairs at the Leaky Cauldron, I’d hate to hear she slipped and fell…”
Sirius rose to his feet, cocking his head slightly as he glared Lucius up and down. The smug look on his face made him want to knock his teeth out…
“Is that a threat, Malfoy?” He growled.
“A threat? No, just mere concern, Black, that’s all—” Lucius’s tone was saccharine sweet as he spoke “for one human being to another— I wonder what she’ll do if you get life in prison?” he continued “Surely a tough life lies ahead on a waitress’s salary.”
“That…” Sirius gritted his teeth. “…won’t happen.”
He wasn’t very confident in saying this— he honestly didn’t know what lied ahead for him. The aurors were less than informative during his arrest, and the only reason he knew he was going to have a trial was due to Terrapin’s brief mention of one.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain— escaping prison is a capital offense, you know,” Lucius turned his head to speak to the men behind him “What do you gentleman think? Maybe we can find a place in our ranks for the Murphy girl? I’m sure Cian would love a reunion with his daughter…”
“Nah,” Nott grumbled “a blood traitor like her? She’s only good to keep our beds warm— we can feed the bastard tot to Greyback once it comes ‘round.”
“You vile son of a—“
Anger coursed through Sirius’s veins as he charged at Nott, tackling him to the ground and striking him across the face. Nott spat blood in Sirius’s face as he swung back, just barely missing his jaw. Sirius clasped his hands around Nott’s throat, getting only one good squeeze before firm hands on his shoulders ripped him back. He was thrown onto the concrete hard; Lucius’s knee came down onto his throat as Dolohov kicked him hard in the ribs repeatedly. Sirius clawed at Lucius’s leg, gasping for a breath, trying with all his might to push him off. He could not move; the weight of his leg was a ten ton anchor, rooted down with impressive strength. Any chance of breath he could have was knocked out of him by Dolohov’s sharp kicks. His ribs cracked under impact, his throat felt like it was going to collapse in on itself, and his hearing began to muffle.
He pinched Lucius’s thigh with all his might, twisting his flesh until he heard a loud yelp. His leg barely moved, but just enough for Sirius to suck in a desperate breath. The cool, sea air burned his lungs and he coughed violently. He spasmed under the crushing weight of Lucius’s knee as it came down once more onto his throat, fighting to both cough and breathe. Spots began to form in his vision, a ringing started to crescendo in his ears, another blow kicked him in the side, cracking yet another portion of his ribs. Blood pooled in his mouth, leaking out the corners of his lips and down the sides of his face, soaking into his hair and his shirt.
As he felt himself drift, an odd calmness blanketed over him, and Allie came to mind. He could picture her clear as day, seated atop a red and white checkered picnic blanket with a box of French macarons in her lap, smiling shyly at him. He reached out to touch her, to feel the smoothness of her skin under his fingertips, to run his hand through her wild mane of curls— but she was just out of reach. He stretched closer, desperate to ground himself. Before he could reach her, however, everything around him faded to black.

The kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place buzzed with voices speaking over one another as Allie rested her chin atop the table. Most of the Order was here already, waiting on Kingsley to arrive with information from the Ministry on Sirius. Molly had tried to make this meeting a little less melancholy with homemade muffins, but this failed to do so. The general energy of the room was tense with anticipation.
Allie’s mind raced as she questioned how much money she would even need to hire a solicitor; she prayed it was less than she thought she would need.
“Kingsley’s here! Kingsley’s here!”
Allie perked up and sat up straighter as Kingsley came down the basement stairs. He was dressed in a crisp gray suit; most likely coming straight from his post at the muggle Prime Minister’s office. His eyes caught Allie’s for a split second before addressing the group.
“Is everyone here?” he asked “Where’s Mundungus?”
“Don’t know where he is,” Tonks piped up “Surely he got the patronus about the meeting…”
“Probably too afraid to show his face…” Allie whispered.
She whispered so softly that only Harry next to her could hear. He looked at her quizzically, but she waved him off— she didn’t think she could explain her interaction with Mundungus without explaining how she chased him down for 12 galleons worth of old silver.
“We’ll have to start without him, I can’t be long— Sirius was arrested under the charges of escaping Azkaban, and evading ministry custody,” Kingsley said, “He is set for a hearing on Monday.”
“What does this mean, exactly?” Harry asked “wasn’t he was exonerated?”
“Of the murder charges from the night your parents were killed,” Kingsley said “these are a completely different set of charges.”
“That’s rubbish!” George piped up “Can’t they leave well enough alone?!”
“As far as what I can tell, this trial a formality,” Kingsley said, thumbing through the file “the Ministry can’t play favorites when it comes to the law, and Sirius broke the law…”
“So they’re going through this trial, wasting everyone’s time, for nothing?” Fred asked
“It seems like a few individuals at the Ministry pushed for this,” Kingsley said “They petitioned Minister Scrimgeour himself, claiming to not persecute Sirius was a violation of—“
“That’s rubbish—!”
“What a load of—!”
“FRED! GEORGE!” shouted Molly disapprovingly
“Who petitioned?” asked Allie.
Her soft voice still spoke over the group. Everyone stopped and turned to her; she felt a blush creeping up her neck as all eyes in the room were on her.
“Who petitioned for his arrest?” she asked again.
“It had quite a few signatures…” Kingsley said slowly, “but it seems that Albert Runcorn, Dolores Umbridge, and Charles Payne organized the petition.”
“Payne? God, that slimy bastard…” Tonks cried
“As in Auror Payne…?” Allie asked.
“Yes,” Kingsley said “Self-righteous fellow, that one.”
“So is this the work of Voldemort’s supporters?” Remus asked
“I don’t think so,” Kingsley said “The three of them are vile people, but not Death Eaters. I like to think of them as Ministry superiors— no matter which side the Ministry is on, they stand with it...”
Kingsley didn’t really have much information to share with the group, other than that Sirius’s hearing was open to the public, and he would be held in Azkaban until then. The gathering turned into a typical Order meeting; Moody took over for Kingsley, jabbering away about information Dumbledore asked him to relay to the group.
As the conversation shifted away from Sirius, Allie’s mind wandered off. She didn’t particularly care about the work Hagrid was doing or Remus’s postponed trip while Sirius was sitting in a prison cell. Would he be stupid enough to try to escape again? She hoped he wouldn’t, albeit fearing what would happen once he stood in front of the Wizengamot to plead his case. Would the rest of the court take pity on the fact that he served 12 years for something he didn’t commit?
“Allie, could I speak with you for a moment?”
She looked up suddenly, just now realizing the meeting had disbanded. She sat up straighter in her chair as Kingsley took a seat next to her. She instinctively shifted her body weight away from him, nodding stiffly, put politely.
Kingsley had a soft expression on his face, studying her for a moment before speaking. She felt uncomfortable in his presence; her mind flashed quick recalls of her convulsing under the cruciatis curse as Kingsley did nothing. Sure, he’d come by to apologize, explain the situation, and she’d shook his hand and accepted his pleads for forgiveness— but this had been a farce. She could hardly stand to be in the same room as him.
“How are you?” he asked, softly, so that the groups congregating around them in earshot could not hear.
“fine.” She replied.
They were silent for a moment as Kingsley continued to study her.
“How are you really?”
“I’m fine,” Allie repeated “what can I help you with, Kingsley?”
“I—“ Kingsley reached out, towards her hands on the table. She removed them, hiding them under the table. He cleared his throat awkwardly as his posture stiffened. “— just want to make sure you’re doing alright. I’m going to see what I can do from inside the Ministry…”
“That would be appreciated.” Allie said stiffly, nodding.
She felt a blush creep up her neck as Kingsley looked at her appraisingly. She wished he’d quit staring at her, to just say what he wanted to say and then leave.
“You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
“mhmm.”
She did not rise from her chair with him. She watched him stand, and move to exit only to be stopped by Arthur and pulled to the side. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the look on his face as her torture commenced. Expressionless. Stone. Nothing. She swallowed hard to fight the lump forming in her throat – she didn’t want to cry; not here, not now.
“Allie, can we help you with anything?” Hermione asked, now sitting herself where Kingsley had been a moment before. “Anything with Sirius’s hearing? Anything around the house?”
Ron and Harry stood behind Hermione, looking at Allie earnestly. She relaxed, leaning back in her chair and sighing.
“I don’t think so— I’m going to speak with a solicitor today…”
“We’ll come with you,” Harry offered.
“You don’t have to do that…”
“We insist,” Hermione took her hand “please, let us come with you— we want to help.”
Allie studied her for a moment, and then nodded stiffly.
“Alright.”
Allie felt a little silly walking down Carnaby Street an hour later with a rag-tag band of teenagers; would this Copernicus Slade bloke take her and three 16- year olds seriously? Maybe the sheer sight of the Boy Who Lived would be enough to convince him to take Sirius’s case— without charging an astronomical amount.
She was painfully aware of the sack of coins in the back pocket of her jeans. She could feel them against her bum with every step she took; she prayed it would be enough, at least to get started. She had cleared her own savings for this— 50 galleons wasn’t much to many, but it was all she had.
They reached a shabby antique store that looked less than inviting. Its cracked, flickering sign appeared to be hanging by a thread, and the bushes around the building looked like they hadn’t been pruned in years. A giant red banner was slapped on the front of the building, reading BUSINESS CLOSED.
“I think this is it,” Hermione said, looking around.
Allie opened the door and stepped inside first. Rather than being met with a musty old antique shop, she was met with a bustling atrium. People in business robes were zipping back and forth, along with yellow paper airplanes that made their way from office to office. Everything was slatted with polished oak, and the doors to each office were a frosted glass with each individuals name etched into the surface. A woman with thick horned rim glasses sat at a large oak desk directly in front. Carved into the front panel of the desk read ‘Slade and Merryweather’ in large script writing. Underneath this text in smaller script read ‘and associates.’
Allie swallowed and wiped her sweating palms on her jeans, and walked up to the desk.
“uhm, hello…” she said just above a whisper.
The woman did not look up from whatever she was doing, but spoke.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re, uhm—“ Allie coughed, then forced her voice louder. “We’re here to see Copernicus Slade,”
The woman did not answer, or look up.
“…Please.”
Heat creeped into Allie’s cheeks as the woman slowly peered over top her horn rimmed glasses.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Appointment?” Allie’s heart fluttered; she hadn’t even thought about making an appointment. “Well, er— no…”
“Mr. Slade is very busy,” the woman said dismissively “If you’d like an appointment, he’s scheduling consultations for October.”
“October?!” Ron shouted irritably “But it’ll be too late by then! Tell him Harry Potter wants to speak with him!”
The woman looked up in surprise, behind Allie to where Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing.
“Merlin’s beard…” she whispered, taking off her glasses and gazing at Harry. “Is it really?”
Harry huffed impatiently, shooting Ron a dirty glance before he brushed his fringe upward. The woman’s eyes bugged at the sight of his lightning bolt scar brazened across his forehead.
“Just one moment,” she said weakly, “I will let Mr. Slade know you are here.”
The woman hurried off out of sight. Allie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as Ron clapped Harry on the back hard.
“You being— well, you—“ Ron gestured to him with both hands “–really can come in handy sometimes— you know that, Harry?”
A few minutes later, they were ushered by the woman back to what appeared to be the largest office in the firm. A man that reminded Allie unsettlingly like Kingsley sat hunched over a mountain of papers. His bald head reflected the light overhead, and his skin was the color of dark chocolate. His robes appeared to be expensive— custom tailored, no doubt, and his office smelled of crisp, brand new leather and cedar. The plaque on his desk read ‘Copernicus Slade, esq.’
“The Harry Potter,” Slade said, setting his quill down. “What do I owe the pleasure? Hopefully not in more legal trouble with the Ministry— this time last year your face was plastered in the Daily Prophet for charges of underage magic.”
“No, Sir, actually—” Harry begun “We’re here to ask you to represent Sirius Black at his hearing next week.”
“Sirius Black?” Slade sat back in his chair, and waved his wand so that the two chairs before him doubled to four. He motioned for them to sit down, and then continued once all 4 were seated. “You want me to represent an undeniably guilty man?”
“He’s not guilty!” Ron cried “Well, ok, he did break out of Azkaban— only because he didn’t deserve to be there!”
“It’s a crime to break out of prison, young man,” Slade said, narrowing his eyes “Sirius Black will be found guilty, there’s no way around that,” Slade shrugged “Now, what the Ministry and the Wizengamot decides to do with him—“
“That’s what we need you for,” Harry said “can’t there be some way he doesn’t go back to Azkaban because he was there for so long before?”
“It’s possible, if the high court rules it so…”
Slade eyed Allie curiously; she hadn’t said a peep since entering the room, sitting off to the side bouncing her leg nervously as she fidgeted with her velvet coin sack. She felt uncomfortable under his stare, as if he was x-raying her.
“I know you,” he said “your face, at least— what’s your name, luv?”
She looked away and flushed; “Allie Murphy.” She whispered.
“Yes, that’s it…” Slade nodded “You ripped off Barnum’s Bakery while you were working there— I remember your mum bringing me your file, asking me to represent you— were you convicted?”
Allie swallowed, and nodded stiffly. “I got 6 months.”
Slade frowned, creasing his brows together. “I’m sorry,” his tone was sincere “so how are you roped in with Harry Potter and his friends? What is Sirius Black to you?”
What was Sirius to her? To answer simply that he was her boyfriend seemed trivial— the father of her child? Still not good enough. He was everything to her. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, just a small squeak, and her face flushed crimson. Tears stung her eyes, and she fought the lump rising in her throat.
“She and he… uhm— she’s pregnant,” Hermione offered softly “It’s his.”
Slade nodded “I see,” he eyed the velvet sack Allie was fidgeting with “I’m guessing that is payment to get started?”
Allie nodded, and handed him the pouch. “50 galleons,” she whispered “I can get you another 10 by the end of the week.”
“Fift—“ The word caught in Slade’s throat as a slight flush came over his cheeks. He coughed awkwardly, and set the pouch onto his desk. The galleons clinked. “Sweetheart, I bill at 250 galleons an hour.”
Allie’s mouth dropped open as her heartbeat pounded a violent tattoo against her chest. 250 galleons an hour? She’d had no idea Copernicus Slade’s soliciting services were going to cost this much.
“250 galleons an hour?!” cried Ron incredulously “Bloody hell— who’s got that kind of money?”
“I—I—“ Allie stammered, staring at the velvet sack bewildered. “— c-can’t afford that. Fifty galleons is all I h-have— that’s my entire—”
“I’ll pay it,” interjected Harry, quickly “I’ll pay it— whatever it takes...”
“Harry, you can’t!” hissed Hermione. “You are going to bankrupt yourself!”
“I don’t care, it’s for Sirius!”
Ron, Hermione and Harry bickered back and forth quietly as Allie blinked a few tears silently, and then picked up the velvet pouch.
“I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Slade.” She said, softly.
She made it to the door whilst Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued to argue.
“Wait,” Slade called. He waved Allie back in impatiently, and pointed back to her chair. “Sit.”
Allie turned back, and slunk back into her chair.
“I’ll take his case,” Slade said “pro bono.”
Allie stared at him with her mouth gaping open.
“You will?” Ron asked incredulously. “Wait— what’s pro bono?” aside to Hermione.
“It means Mr. Slade isn’t charging us,” Hermione explained, aside to Ron.
Allie let out a shaky breath “W-why would you do that?”
“I have my reasons,” Slade folded his hands across his desk. “Personal they may be, or possibly I’m feeling charitable— I’ll represent Sirius Black, and see what I can do for him; I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best— alright with you?”
“Yes, yes—“ Allie gasped, struggling to hold back now joyful tears. “Thank you, Mr. Slade— thank you…”
The stone against his back was cold through his shirt as he leaned back against the wall. He’d spent most of the day seated on the top bunk in his cell, staring at the adjacent wall to the small window outfitted with iron bars. From here, he couldn’t see out into the North Sea, but he could hear the waves crashing against the building all the same. His sides were sore anytime he moved, so once he sat himself down, there is where he stayed. His throat was hoarse and raw, despite being three days post this brawl with Malfoy, Nott and Dolohov. He’d woken up nearly a day later, back in his cell where the hospital matron lectured him to sleep elevated. Terrapin had come by and informed him he was not leaving his cell until his trial, that he’d lost rec yard privileges, as well as the three other men had.
On the wall where his back lay, letters were etched just above the mattress line, spelling out Allie. He’d spent a few hours facing the wall, staring at the name etched. What he wouldn’t give to be with her now, holding her close as they sipped tea on the couch. He craved the smell of her floral perfume, the silky softness of her lips against his, the sound of her sweet giggle that made his stomach roll.
He pressed his fingertips against his Adam’s apple and winced; he hadn’t tried to speak in a day or so, and wasn’t looking forward to trying. Despite the prison’s matron repairing his broken windpipe and ribs, his throat was extremely sore. His sides were spotted with black and purple that matched the turtleneck bruise around his throat.
“Black!”
Sirius turned his head to see Terrapin glaring at him through his cell bars.
“What?
The word hurt coming out of his mouth. His voice sounded deep and croaky, like a hoarse bullfrog.
“Someone’s here to see you,” Terrapin said “get down off that bunk and get moving.”
“Who is it?” Sirius asked thickly
“Like hell that I know, some hot shot solicitor— Slade or whatever?” Terrapin said impatiently “He’s here about your trial— now get moving!”
Sirius moved off the bunk as fast as his injured ribs would allow him. With a flick of his wand, handcuffs and a waist chain appeared around him. The cell doors opened with a slam, and he hesitantly stepped out of the cell.
They made their way down the hall, accompanied by a lone dementor hovering a few paces behind, and down a few flights of stairs. Terrapin led him into a room not much bigger than a broom closet, where a man in pin stripe robes sat. His heavy set brows were fixed in a concentrated scowl as he stared at the papers in his file folder on the table in front of him. The noise from Sirius’s waist chains made him look up suddenly.
“Ah, you must be the infamous Sirius Black,” he said, standing and sticking his hand out to shake “Copernicus Slade— from the law offices of Slade and Merryweather.”
Sirius stared at Slade’s outstretched hand, feeling awkward that he was unable to shake. Slade coughed uncomfortably and withdrew his hand.
“Please,” he gestured to the chair across from him “sit.”
Sirius sat down slowly, looking back at Terrapin slipping out the room and shutting the door behind him.
“Now, we’ve got a lot to cover before tomorrow—“
“Excuse me,” Sirius rasped “but why on earth are you here?”
Slade looked up, only mildly surprised by this question.
“I’m working your defense case.”
“You’re my solicitor?” Sirius asked thickly
“Yes, yes,” Slade said dismissively “Now, looking at your case—“he flipped through a casefile of papers “looks like there is no way around pleading guilty to your charges, as indeed you did escape from prison…”
Sirius stared at the man in front of him, unable to focus on the words he was speaking fully. He watched the way Slade’s bald head reflected the lamplight overhead.
“So, what do you think of that?”
“What?”
Sirius was snapped back to reality. Slade sighed, setting his papers down.
“Look; I know your story. You spent 12 years in here for a crime you didn’t commit, and you chose to break out. I don’t blame you, I would’ve considered the same thing— except that by escaping custody, whether or not guilty of the crime you were incarcerated for, doesn’t change the fact that you broke the law in doing so. Now, do I feel you deserve to be back here for it? No.” Slade looked at him earnestly “I think you have a shot of getting off.”
Sirius looked at him skeptically. “And if you don’t get me off, am I still stuck with the bill?”
Slade chuckled softly “No— I actually took your case pro bono. Now, let’s look at—“
“Pro bono?” Sirius asked “Why would you do that? Do you make it a habit of combing through the Daily Prophet for your next charity case or something?”
Slade raised an eyebrow curiously. He set his quill down, leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.
“My wife left me a few years ago,” Slade said, sighing “she told me I had become a greedy man— all I cared about was work and money. Cases would come my way of real people in need, ones that needed sound legal counsel. A woman came to me shortly before my wife left with a picture of her daughter and a case file, nearly in tears begging for my help. Her daughter had stolen a large sum of cash from her job, desperate to buy food and clothing for her younger siblings,”
Sirius shifted in his chair to lean forward.
“She couldn’t pay,” Slade continued “Her daughter had stolen the money because this woman wasn’t able to provide enough for her children— naturally she couldn’t afford my salary. A first time petty theft charge wouldn’t’ve taken up much of my time or resources, and I know I could’ve gotten the girl off without jail time. I never knew how the case ended up going, because I never looked. I didn’t care. My wife was not wrong— I was a greedy man, and I had developed some bad karma because of it,”
Slade looked at Sirius earnestly.
“When the girl I let go to prison for petty theft showed back up in my office, begging for my help with hardly any money, I knew I had to help her this time around.”
“Allie came to see you?” Sirius asked hoarsely.
“Her, Harry Potter, and a few other teenagers,” Slade said “They were all very passionate about getting you out of here— I told them I would do my best to ensure that would happen,”
Slade picked up his quill, dipped the tip in its inkwell, and smiled easily at Sirius.
“Now, let’s work on how we’re going to get you out of here, shall we?”
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