Drew had only set one foot on Azkaban Island when the second thoughts threatened to creep in.

The sickly moon was smothered by black clouds and swarming Dementors. Thunderous waves smashed against the barren shore lined with wrecked ships and bones, and a biting wind carried disembodied wails past an open mass grave.

And worst of all, Drew could barely feel her magic. It was a strange, foreign feeling. Like she was missing a heartbeat. She'd never noticed that pulse inside of her before, but here its absence was unmistakable. Until a few weeks ago she'd had no idea that anti-magic enchantments existed.

The janky platform behind them dropped back down the pit. It had pulled them out from where the Floo Station was, and now—

"There's no turning back," Xavier said.

Drew nodded, resolute. She thought back to Wilby's parting words to her. "When you feel lonely, think about how much lonelier I would be if you were dead."

Not quite the words she expected to hear, but maybe they were just real enough that they would stick with her. He actually had more to say, and they were just as ominous:

"Don't forget me. And most importantly, don't forget yourself."

That sentence kept circling her thoughts as she trudged down the hall. Her cell will be on the second floor. A shared low-security cell, since she was just a "low-risk teenager". Yeah right, she'll show those idiots.

Posted every ten metres was a looming Dementor, their dark hooded heads turning to watch them pass. The two of them made it through the second security checkpoint at the building entrance, where they were checked once again for contraband. Xavier wasn't even allowed to bring his wand.

He hauled her up the decrepit stairwell, passing the soul-sucking ghouls as fast as they could without arousing suspicion. Every time she neared one, her mind just... sank. That was the only way to describe it. Her bravado retreated just a little.

They reached the cell that would be her home for who knows how long — 205. It was a big one, confined by thick stone walls save a single barred window to the outside, and another into the hallway with a food slot. Through it, she could see a couple of girls her age silently sitting around.

Drew psyched herself up for the task. This was light work. She'd scolded a Dementor when she was thirteen. She could handle those weird ghouls.

Xavier bent down to her eye level, dead serious. "Remember that you are getting out of here. Hold onto that thought and don't die on me. We all need you to stay sane, especially your sister."

"Yeah. Thanks for everything," she said, keeping her voice steady. "If you can't make it in time, I'll personally go up to the top floor to get Quentin."

He rolled his eyes. "No, you won't. Stick to the plan and annoy some Dementors for me."

"That I can do."

Xavier slid back three huge latches and pushed open the door. As she entered, he gave her an unnecessary pat on the head.

He smirked at her glare, then shut the door and locked it. She heard his footsteps quickly echo away as she stood back, resigning herself. Dying was for wimps. Cowards, even.

Despite the high mortality rate, the prison was overcrowded, so she was in a six-person cell with a dozen others. Now where was Ari?

"Drew?" a familiar voice said. Drew spun around, and like a haunted mirror, a gaunt Aurora stared at her with sunken eyes. Then Ari turned away, shaking her head. "No no, you can't be here. I don't want you here. You're supposed to be safe!"

"I am safe," Drew said quickly. "Or I will be. Hey, come here."

Ari hugged her in her frail arms. "I can't believe they got you too."

"Not exactly," Drew said, trying not to squeeze too tightly for fear of hurting her. "Yeah, I missed you too. I'm very glad that you're not dead already, but don't worry about me. There's a strategy here."

Ari stood back, eyes shining with new life. "What is it?"

Their cellmates were paying them no attention, just sleeping in cots or ogling the wall. But Drew took her to the corner and said in a hushed tone, lest Fate hear and get a twisted idea: "Don't react, but there will be a mass breakout. Xavier from school helped plan it. We'll get out and bring all the innocent people with us. I'm here to signal them and keep you company."

Aurora's jaw went slack with astonishment, and it took her a couple of seconds to respond. "A-are you for real? Don't give me false hope. I've had enough of that."

Drew nodded, even though it was suddenly a struggle to believe it herself. "It's a real watertight masterplan that dozens of people agreed to be a part of. You're going to be free, Ari, so have hope."

Ari's face contorted through a range of emotions. Relief and disbelief were the most prominent. Finally, she sank to the floor with her hands on her knees. "Oh Drew, I hate it here. You better be right."

Drew filled her voice with conviction. "I am."

"You did all this for me?"

"Eh, a lot of other people, too. Don't get conceited."

Ari smiled a little and wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Drew. I'm not happy you're here, but... I'm happy you're with me."

Drew sat with her, looking her over without being obvious. It had only been three weeks, but Aurora was thinner, hugging her grey prison clothes tightly to fight the cold. She had dry cracked lips, eyebags, scratches on her cheek, and was even missing a clump of hair in the back.

"Stop staring at me," Ari sniffled, covering her face. "You're gonna look like this soon."

"You look the same to me."

"Blegh. You're the worst." But she was smiling.

Drew took the time to scan the room. "What can you tell me about my new roommates?"

Her sister shrugged. "Not much. All of them are more traumatized than chatty, but from what I've gathered, they're all good people. Muggle-borns and wrong place, wrong times. Well, except that girl sleeping over there. I don't know what her deal is. She tried to bite me."

"Oh yeah, that matches the files we pulled. She's Evelyn Atoms and she murdered somebody."

Aurora's head pivoted to her like an owl. "What?"

"It was an accident, it seems. Not important."

"Not impor— I gave her my bread to calm her down once!"

Drew shrugged. "We'll be away from her soon... until she gets out in two years."

Ari groaned, and Drew smirked. Maybe this prison sentence wouldn't be too bad.

Well that was what she thought until someone caught her eye. Through the hall window, she could see right into the opposite cell. One inmate inside had turned his head, and his dreaded face stuck out like a wine stain. She had almost forgotten he would be here. Almost.

Morfinus Labrinth's intense blue eyes met hers, and his mouth split open in a switchblade smile.

Kill me now.

* ° * ° *

Five days in, and Drew still wrinkled her nose at the food. Cold pasta without a single topping or sauce. Again. It was almost dry, too. She was pretty sure the food in Muggle prisons was a lot better than this.

Her sister nudged her. "Look, want some parsley?"

Something that resembled dead seaweed was splayed out on her pasta, and Drew laughed. "No thanks."

A Dementor drifted by, and they quieted, eating in silence with the happy memory gone. They only passed a couple of times a day, but she had soon learned to brace herself at the slightest chill. The air of Azkaban was thick with dread, but the entire world wilted when they were near.

And the GROSS PASTA did not help. She might as well be chewing damp rubber bands. How she longed to strangle the Dementors with them...

"Pasta isn't even hard to cook, but Dementors and depressed inmates aren't chefs," Ari said sadly. "The Ministry ought to give us food that doesn't need preparation. At least it's slightly better than bread."

"You know?" Drew said suddenly. "I've always wondered who gave the Dementors clothes."

Aurora snorted. "What possessed them to wear them? How did they gain the concept of modesty?"

"Colonialism at work."

They giggled together, and another inmate cracked a smile. Aurora was noticeably better than she was before. Her eyebags were shallower and her smile less pained. Hope and companionship had their own kind of magic.

Drew took another chewy bite of dry noodles. "For real though, do you know the answer?"

Ari's eyes got shifty. "Why Dementors wear clothes? There's an urban legend about it, but it's not a fun story."

"Well now I'm intrigued. How bad can it be?"

Her sister hesitated, "I guess... in a way, it made me feel less scared, so I'll tell you. Historians disprove much of the story, but some facts do line up." She huddled closer. "Legend says Azkaban Island used to be massive — the size of three cities. It was sacred to Death, but also full of life. A magical paradise for nature. Undetectable, unplottable. It didn't want to be discovered.

"But wizards eventually found it, and along with it, a Philosopher's Stone. Tens of thousands of wizards came from all over the world to mine for more, building towns as they did. They never found another, if it ever existed in the first place, but they destroyed the island and snuffed out all its life and wonders. And still they kept looking.

"One day, Death appeared to ask them to leave. They refused, so a curse set over the land, and slowly by slowly, the island became a purgatory. Eventually, the people realized they couldn't leave and couldn't die. It was too late for forgiveness. Even then more people showed up to mine, and they were caught too.

"Centuries passed. And once the last man was nothing but a walking corpse with a tiny flickering soul, the curse lifted. And there were the Dementors, desperately grasping for any happy memory they could. They say they can fly because their broken souls are trying to reach heaven."

Drew gawked at her in disbelief for ten whole seconds. "Okay, that's messed up. What's wrong with you? You're telling me this makes you less scared?"

Ari shrugged. "To know that they might just be humans who miss being human? A little. I picture them in the kitchen, trying their very best to make spaghetti, and I feel a little better."

Drew could not picture that. It was already wild watching Dementors drop off their dinner, but their aura of bad vibes more than made up for that bizarreness.

Ari continued: "Some people also say Dementors resemble humans because they become more human with the more human souls they take."

"Thank you. That's better. I like a clear enemy."

Their dinner was almost gone. Drew scraped at the container, trying to dislodge a piece stuck to the side. Annoyingly, she could hear someone tapping their fingers on their tray in the other cell. The sound was on the edge of driving her insane.

She knew it was Morfinus before she even checked. The twerp was staring right at her through the windows. Azkaban heightened negative emotions, and here Morfinus could not hide the hatred and misery in his voice as he smiled and asked: "How are you doing, Drew?"

"Shut the hell up," she snapped, forcing anger to fight off the despair surrounding her mind. A Dementor passed again to collect their trays, heightening it further.

"Drew!" Ari hissed. "I keep telling you — ignore him. It worked for me when he realized I wasn't you. He didn't know a thing about me to weaponize."

"Yeah, well, he already knows me."

"Then don't give him more information!"

Her sister could be extremely irritating, so Drew ignored her. "Two years in Azkaban is not long enough. You deserve a long torturous death, Labrinth."

Morfinus, as he often did, looked hurt. "I feel sick for what I did to Tristan. But it was an accident. I was a kid and I don't deserve to be here. I don't. You've got to understand that."

"I see the denial is in overdrive. Azkaban did a number on you."

He sighed, but it came out a grunt. "I refuse to feel bad for something I didn't do. I should've known you wouldn't understand. You never feel bad for anything."

"Please stop talking to him," Ari murmured, squeezing her arm. "Please. He knows you always fight back."

Morfinus continued, back in his element: "We're both wrongly imprisoned, so you should be able to empathize with me."

Ari glared at her, so Drew grudgingly stayed quiet and ate her food. Deep down she knew he hated himself and was doing everything possible to redirect it.

Morfinus whistled. "You know, I never knew that trauma could repress and change my memories like that. Crazy how differently victims react, you know? I denied it. And Cyndee went crazy."

"Shut up."

"Jeez, I wasn't insulting her. It's what I've heard other people like you say. It's messed up if you ask me. I don't know what Wilby sees in you."

The mention of his name triggered her. "You've one to talk. You killed someone and then tormented your friends and family."

"I know your doubts about me eat at your mind," Morfinus said suddenly, and it was like his words went directly into her brain. "You wonder what the truth is. The truth is you put an innocent man in Azkaban for self-defence. The court only found me guilty for Tristan. Cyndee couldn't prove I did anything to her and Jack refused to testify. I never strangled him and I did nothing to you."

Ari covered her ears. "Stop, Drew. I don't want to hear him anymore."

"I don't deserve to be here!" Morfinus bellowed, shaking the bars. "YOU DO."

She was starting to believe it. Drew could feel Morfinus's eyes on her as she finally gave in and shut her mouth. And now she felt ten times worse than she did before.

I don't know what Wilby sees in you.

Yeah, talking to Morfinus was always a bad idea.

* ° * ° *

"It's been four weeks," Ari said, almost accusingly. "One month."

Drew opened her eyes blearily, waking herself up. "The plan takes time. I told you this. Did you even sleep?"

"What if You-Know-Who doesn't come back?" Ari demanded. "You said there are only a handful of Death Eaters still locked up."

"There are other reasons for him to break in, Ari." Drew sat up and stretched her back. The stone floor was a back-killer. "It will happen."

Ari shook her head. "In my mind — I gave myself one month. I was counting down the days and everything. One month at most and I'm out of here. And now it's passed. I have to extend my hopes. I don't want to keep extending and extending."

"We'll get out, Ari. Sit tight." Drew tried to go back to sleep, but found that she couldn't.

It went on like this. Day after day after day. Drew had already lost some hair, her sister gave up hoping again, and nothing could convince her. Drew was getting tired of making new happy little prison memories just for them to disappear when she needed them most.

Voldemort better hurry his ass up.

* ° * ° *

Seven excruciating weeks in Azkaban. Seven. Drew had lost so much weight she didn't even want to look. It was obvious why staring at the wall was such a fun pastime for these people. If you were dead inside, you felt no different when the Dementors came.

But Drew held on. Because inside her arm she'd tattooed a message for herself — an immovable force that she needed to remind herself of every minute of every day:

WILBY.

That one word was all she needed.

Drew hit her small loaf of bread against the wall. The crust of these things was always rock hard and practically inedible, so she had to literally break them open to eat the softer — and sometimes soggy — insides.

Ari wordlessly handed her bread to Drew so she could open it for her. Drew bashed it around and handed it back. "Here. How's it going, sis?"

"I wish that window was bigger," Ari said, staring out into the night sky.

"So we can escape, right?"

Ari lay down on the dirty floor. "Yes."

Great. Now Drew had to have enough will to live for the both of them. "The day is coming," she said. "It's inevitable. So focus on that."

"I wish I could cry," Ari murmured. She had been saying that for the last two weeks. "But I can't. I'm suspended in the feeling just before it. Just building and building."

"Wilby's not going to leave us here," Drew said. A draft was blowing in, and she used the dinner tray to block it. "Okay?"

Aurora wasn't convinced. "You trust him so much. I bet you anything he'll go for his father first."

Drew's blood boiled and then chilled all at once. "Don't say that. Even if — if — our side of the plan goes wrong, and ... and he abandons me, there's still Cyndee. Blaise. Your friends Sylvia and Sue."

Ari nodded vaguely. "That's true. Maybe we'll find out."

"I'm done talking to you," Drew snapped, and she silently traced the tattooed words on her arm. She tried to recall Wilby's face, but the details were getting hard. The exact shade of green in his eyes... what was it? There was nothing here but black and grey.

To anyone still reading this — thanks for sticking around ♥