Hi everyone, If you're still reading this then yay! Hope the chapter lives up to any expectations you may have. Sorry it is so short but the next ones will be longer (i hope). I'm still not JK and thanks very much to excessivelyperky for beta'ing my chapter after so many years silence.

Chapter 8

"Pet...Pet?" Vernon sighed and gently nudged his wife. "Did you hear a word I've been saying Petunia?" He bit back his frustration as she gave a startled jolt and then shook her head mutely, returning to her reverie out the car window. He wished he could pull over but they had less than a hundred miles to go until they were there and he figured they could make it before Dudley was due his next feed. Stopping now would mean a prolonged stay in some horrid lay-by being buffeted by the lorries as they thundered past. Alternatively they could engage in frantic renditions of 'Teddy Bears Picnic' in an effort to appease him and keep him distracted for as long as it took to get there, but that wasn't really fair on Dudley at this age and it made Petunia anxious. Not to mention he couldn't think of a more grating, nerve-racking sound than a hungry, upset two-month-old baby.

"I..." He let the sentence fall off into awkward silence, wishing he was better with words. He hated seeing Petunia so... upset wasn't quite the right word... empty, that was better... grey. He wasn't sure if he preferred this to the manic resourcefulness of a few days ago when she was determined to contact her sister or the panic-stricken determination of a few weeks ago when they left the house with as much as they could fit in, and on, the car. It was certainly quieter.

"Hmmm, what was that Pet?" He craned his head towards hers, but it was turned away. Sod this... he was pulling over. They could stay in yet another Travelodge but he couldn't stand any more of this. He knew he had made the right decision when he saw her tear-stained face.

As they parked up he placed his hand lightly over hers. "Pet..." A snort from Dudley made them both freeze. As if not moving any muscles whatsoever would make any difference to his waking pattern.

"Let's get in the room Vernon..." Petunia whispered. She didn't sound like herself. She sounded tired and...broken somehow.

Vernon was aware he wasn't the most patient man in the world, and perhaps he had less restraint than he had previously thought because by the time they had finished unpacking (a task they were well versed in by now) and had settled Dudley off to sleep in the double bed (he had been resigned to sleeping on the floor with as many cushions and pillows as they had been able to scrounge) he could feel his temple throbbing with suppressed emotion. Not anger exactly, more frustration... although to be honest he felt so mixed up and conflicted he couldn't have really said how he felt.

"Petunia..." He saw her wince and tried to calm his voice. "Pet..." He continued in a softer tone, although he still didn't know what to say... how to express all his feelings about the last few weeks. He only knew that if he didn't say something this awkwardness would eat away at their relationship until he felt too much time had passed to say anything. He'd seen it enough times with couples they knew who'd met too young to know... who'd drifted away through just not talking until they had nothing to talk about because there was too much that hadn't been said or explained. Luckily his wife interrupted him. If you could interrupt silence.

"Vernon. Please. I'm sorry." She took a deep shuddering breath trying to speak calmly through the tears streaming down her face. "I took you away from everything... your job... your promotion... our house." Her voice was almost an indecipherable wail in her distress. "You must hate me..."

He prised her hands away from her face where she had buried them and made a decision that would ultimately save their marriage. "You're right." He felt his chest constrict at her look of anguish. "I'm not happy about leaving Grunnings just as I was about to get promoted, especially without serving my notice. It will be hard getting another job of equal standing after leaving like that. I can't even ask for a reference." He ignored her wracking sobs, holding her close and continued. "I don't like leaving our home... you know how hard I saved to get the deposit for that house, our first house...at least Marge agreed to look after it until it gets sold instead of leaving it for the building society to repossess." He couldn't think of anything worse. "I... I'm not happy about roaming up and down the country always looking over our shoulder, jumping at imagined shadows, not really knowing what we are running from." Sighing deeply he continued. "But you know about these... these..."

"Freaks." Came the abrupt reply.

"You know about these freaks better than me. You said we needed to flit Pet, but I agreed. And there's worse things than Dudley growing up with a Brummy accent." His attempt at levity, unsurprisingly fell flat, but if the slightly hysterical laughter was anything to go by it was the right thing to have done. He shuffled along the hard floor to hold her even closer, if that was possible, bending his head to whisper in her ear. "I love you Pet... I love you. And if that means traipsing up and down the length and breadth of Britain like gypsies avoiding mysterious folk wearing dresses and waving sticks about then so be it." He could feel her relax and her back vibrate at the shuddering breath she let out.

"Really?"

"You silly woman. Of course."

"But you hate this!"

"Well... yes... I like being in one spot, you know me... but home is where you and Dudders are, even if that's the back of the car."

"Oh Vernon!" Her relief was palpable as she snuggled into his chest.

"I loved you since I first clapped eyes on you. Who else is daft enough to go out with a lad who asks when the next bus is due when he's driving a car? It's going to take a lot to make me leave you Petunia Dursley. More than this... a lot more." The damp, chaste, but loving kiss surprised him.

"Besides..." He gave voice to the thought that had been nagging him about this whole situation. "If they find us in the middle of Birmingham, the busiest, least magical place in all of Britain, I really don't know where we'll be safe. Especially after the route we've gone... even I'm not entirely certain about where we are."

When Vernon woke the next morning, it was with a crick in his neck but a soothed soul. He snorted Petunia's hair out his nose as softly as he could and a quick glance to the wriggling heap of blankets in the middle of the bed assured him of Dudley's well-being. A squawk prompted him to ease from out of the warm nest he and Petunia had made.

"Hello little tyke." He gingerly picked him up. Petunia laughed at how he handled the lad, as if he were fine bone china, but he was so tiny. So small and fragile. "Well... we're back in the car I'm afraid but it's the last stint for a while. Daddy found a place to rent didn't he! Yes." He continued in a quiet melodious voice. "And we'll get nice and settled and Daddy will find a job. Yes he will. And it'll all be all right." He looked at the sleeping form of his wife and a new feeling of determination entered him. He couldn't fault her for not taking the recession into account when she concocted this madness he supposed. His job at Grunnings had been secure and financially lucrative and there was no reason for her to have supposed that it would be any different for the same sector in the North. Even he had underestimated just how difficult it would be, assuming that the papers had been exaggerating somewhat. The enlightenment had come too late after the flit for them to nullify their actions. He bit back a sigh. Never mind, he would make it right come hell or high water, even if it meant starting right at the bottom and working his way up, which it undoubtedly would. Time to flip through the work ads and spend some more time eye-balling the inside of a phone box hoping his pennies didn't run out before he had spoken to the appropriate people.

Grimacing as he felt, and heard, Dudley fill his nappy he nudged Pet awake with his foot. The excuse to pack the car, although well timed, wasn't false and when Petunia meandered out with Dudley burrowing into the nook of her arm he was huffing and puffing from wrestling with luggage.

"Onwards and upwards Pet." He flicked through the well thumbed map, marking the route in pencil for Petunia. "Should only take a couple of hours if we go this way. The council man said he'd be there at ten with the keys so we'd better get a move on." As he started the car he felt almost elated. A feeling which even he recognised was bizarre and out of place considering their circumstances. But it was better than the soul crushing niggles it replaced. Far better.

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Lily bit back a curse as the bucket banged against her leg, spilling dirty water over the clean floor, and more importantly, over her shoes, meaning she would have to complete the rest of the job squelching uncomfortably. At times like these she regretted leaving the magical world... leaving James and her comfortable life for drudgery. But then the baby would kick or squirm and she would be reminded of what was at stake. Of what she had left for. Even so it was hard. Such an inadequate word for such a feeling. Sometimes she felt like an iron fist was gripping her heart... squeezing it until she felt cold and struggled for breath. She had never known such bleakness. She often wondered if it was worth it.

She had, in her darkest moments of contemplation, wondered if this was her penance, if you believed in that sort of thing, for past wrongs. She'd had plenty of time on her own in dark hushed corridors to the swish and splat of the mop or the gentle buzz of the uncontrollable buffer machine to think. And these thoughts tended to be unhappy, or at least bittersweet. She could hardly believe her position. A qualified witch, married to one of the oldest Pureblood lines in history... reduced to being a muggle cleaner... a single mum, with all the stigma that carried, although at least she still had her wedding ring. That staved off some of the worst gossip.

With nothing else to do and not wanting to dwell on her... if not bleak, then certainly less than enviable future, she dwelt instead on the past... which she had first thought held only happy memories. And they were, for the most part, but they were such a contrast to her life now that it often made her uncontrollably weepy. The baby hormones didn't help, she supposed, although she had been lucky so far in terms of symptoms.

She shook her head abruptly, almost painfully so, as if the physical act alone could dislodge such thoughts and continued her slow progress up the corridor. Almost without realising her thoughts turned again to whether she should return to James. Sadly, that wasn't really the question. She did want to return to James, to chance death in return for happiness. But therein lay the problem. She wasn't sure if she returned that she would be any happier. Was this feeling in her chest due to loneliness? Or was it due to the horrible suspicion that what she had done was unforgivable... unexplainably so... to him. It has seemed such a simple decision at the time. Her child safe at any cost. But she hadn't realised the cost would be so high... so life altering. She wished she could run to her sister for advice as she had done until she was nine, but even she recognised that she had burned that bridge long ago, even if she had known where Petunia was now.

Sighing softly she hefted the bucket up and emptied the contents into the slop sink, pausing to rest on the rim. The task made her uncomfortably aware of how little time she had until the Fawn became a person. That in itself was another worry. She now had no support whatsoever, both financially and socially. The council had housed her, and she was now on benefits as well as having this cleaning job so she was getting by quite nicely at the moment. But that would change in, if everything went according to plan, a month or so. She hadn't worked long enough in the post to get this new maternity pay that was coming out, and she wouldn't have anyone to look after the baby so she could work, meaning that for a while at least she would need to live solely on benefits... a daunting prospect.

She choked back the rising sob and supported herself against a wall as the thoughts came unbidden. She couldn't do this! All alone... her first child... without even another mother's guidance, let alone her own. Perhaps she would send a letter to James. She had been the brightest charms student in her year. Surely she was able concoct some sort of charm that would allow her to communicate with James without her giving away her location.

Holding onto that thought, and with renewed purpose she shrugged on her coat. Perhaps she was just overreacting. Surely James would understand. Would empathise even if he didn't agree. Maybe in time he would forgive her for any perceived betrayal.

Five sheets of crossed out scribbles later and Lily had a headache.

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"Haven't you lot got jobs to do?! Get to it!" Moody felt a perverse sense of satisfaction as green and seasoned Aurors alike scrambled out of the gossip huddle that had formed by the kettle. He had no patience for prattle, and none at all for the type that had been doing the rounds since Snape got sentenced.

"What's got his goat now?"

"Oh... he's just old and grumpy..."

Moody humphed as he overheard whispered snatches of conversation. He wondered if they meant him to hear or just didn't care. On reflection the latter was more likely. This newest intake of Auror trainees didn't seem to be the brightest and if it was up to him the whole lot would have been kicked off by now, particularly that damned Potter and Black. He was insightful enough to realise that he had less tolerance with them since overhearing them bragging about the casual cruelty they had inflicted on the Snape lad during their school days. But after viewing the lad's memories and seeing how hard he had tried to keep his countenance during the hearing he just couldn't find it in himself to view the boy as evil incarnate anymore. Silly and foolish with a good dollop of naivety thrown in, yes, but not despicable.

He bit back a frustrated groan as he saw Black saunter down the isles of desks. If he heard one more round of "glorious Snivvy bashing" he was going to cuff him upside the head regardless of the repercussions. Although by the delicate way Sirius was holding himself all he would really have to do was bang around a bit to make him regret coming into work today. He was known to be a bit of a boozer but had been overdoing it lately, along with Potter, to the extent that he had been put on a warning. He harrumphed to himself at the good that would do. They both viewed any sort of censure with a flippancy that had more than him annoyed.

Smirking he leaned on his crutch a bit more and stomped louder when going past. His contemporaries knew he could be stealthy, and judging by the amused glances they were sending his way, knew exactly what he was doing. Smirking to himself he approached Smithick "So, I hear you're looking for some newbies to run some raids... I think I know just the men..."

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Severus stood, suddenly enveloped in the darkness as the door clanked shut behind him, leaving him blinking like a stupefied calf. His subconscious reprimanded him for his lack of reaction, but although his mind comprehended the fact, it did not have time to evolve into anger. Instead he drifted off, trying to find thoughts less maudlin than his slow cognitive decline leading to his inevitable death. Admittedly, statistically this scenario was the most unlikely given the relatively short sentence, but since the most improbably outcome was usually the one that graced Severus with its presence he felt morbidly justified in wallowing.

"Well, bugger" he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as his hand brushed the rough stone walls, pausing over a crack in the mortar, large enough to let the biting wind through, but too small to facilitate an escape. Although subjectively his mind naturally turned to trying to find an exit, objectively analysed he knew it would be a premature respite if succeeded, as it would only result in dogged pursuit his whole life. Two years of acute discomfort outweighed a lifetime of anxiety and furtive living in his mind, although whether he would feel the same way after spending some time with the Dementors was another matter entirely.

As he settled on the thin, but thankfully clean pallet on the floor he contemplated his current situation. He really hadn't thought he would end up in Azkaban, despite verbally being told it was likely if not certain, at least for a given amount of time. He supposed he had been so relieved that the charges, though serious, had remained fairly mundane, despite his political affiliations, and had grown so used to being having others effectively bend the rules on his behalf, particularly on medical grounds, that he had thought he would get a long parole with heavy restrictions.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom he started to scope out his surroundings. The cell was not very big, approximately ten feet by six feet. He sat on a thin mattress on a very small wooden frame- only a few inches off the ground- enough that you could feel the chill radiating off the stones but not enough to get influenza. It was placed against the farthest wall in a corner. A washbasin and jug stood in a rickety stand by the bed. Opposite the bed was a narrow opening leading to a toilet- or more accurately to two large slabs with a round hole in the middle, rather like what one saw in a medieval muggle castle. A narrow slit towards the top of the cell in both the toilet and the main room accounted for fresh air and ventilation and that was it. His little world.

He was lulled to a fitful sleep, fully clothed on top of the woollen sheets by the waves crashing rhythmically on the rocks hundreds of feet below. He shivered as he dreamt a confusing dream of chains, hooded figures with changing faces and escape via coffins in true Monte Cristo style.

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"Wakey, wakey... rise and shine"

Severus stirred as the disembodied voice reverberated down the corridor, filtering into his cell, momentarily bewildered before the events of yesterday caught up with him. Blinking his sleep encrusted eyes, he groggily half-sat, half holding his breath in expectation, only to frown when nothing more happened. He strained his ears but was unable to hear footsteps, or any other identifiable noise, although he started at the wind as it blew, wailing through unseen cracks.

He sat in indecision. What should he do? He was very tempted to try to return to his fitful slumber. Not only had his dreams been full of nightmares, but the cold had seemed to chill his very bones, making his teeth chatter and body shake. It had taken him a good few hours to feel merely chilly, and that was after carefully tucking the threadbare blanket around him like a cocoon and staying very still.

Lying back down he found himself unable to drift off, instead he watched the walls of his cell change hues, from charcoal to pewter. Suppressing a sigh, he tried to order his thoughts and actions, although he wasn't really sure why. It was habit, he supposed. How ironic that here there was no-one to hide from and no one to judge. In fact the walls were so thick he could probably scream and thrash and rail at the world 'til kingdom come and not disturb anyone. A laugh bubbled up out of nowhere and it came out as a barking harsh cough until tears came to his eyes. Shaking his head as it petered out, he pondered on his thoughts.

Would they let his father visit? He hoped so. He drummed his feet against the flagstones wondering what he should do before mindlessly starting his hand exercises. He was startled out of his reverie by a bowl being shoved carelessly through the wooden hatch in the door, its content slopping on the floor. Eyeing it with suspicious expectation for a bit he groaned as he kneeled on the rough stone to examine it further. Yep, definitely looked like prison food. Unidentifiable grey sludge with lumps in it. "Brilliant" he whispered sarcastically setting it back down. He knew he should eat but his stomach was revolting just at the thought of putting that near his mouth and he couldn't resist a muttered "Ergh". With nothing better to do he returned to what he laughingly already referred to as a bed. Cradling his head in his hands he stared at the rough flagstones beneath his feet. A feeling of defeat and despair enveloped him slowly as the creature that lurked outside his cell sucked the joy from him that could have buoyed his hopes.