Genevieve Garcia-Gamp had visited Azkaban once during her husband’s twelve and a half year stay. It had been several months after the release of her book as a new found confidence drove her to face him with a form she’d desperately needed him to sign. Another refusal from an uninterested and unrepentant man had been enough to confirm to Gen that she neither needed to visit again or inform him of the son he’d fathered in between murdering and torturing innocents.

The request had come as a surprise. An official letter from Azkaban prison had been sent to Gen’s flat, a request from her husband to visit. He’d made these requests for 10 years after the sentencing. They’d stopped over 2 years ago and Gen had finally thought that she could ignore them. This morning, Genny had taken the trip on the boat from Charon’s Point, trying to choke down the taste of vomit which threatened to move up her gullet. The last time she’d seen Leo, he’d appeared unrecognisable having drastically aged. It had been terrifying, the man she’d loved still in there but shadowed by the stranger on the surface.

“The Death Eater in my Bed?” There was no chance for Genevieve’s eyes to adjust to the darkness of the small room as the cell door opened before her. The man’s voice was harsh and angry but unmistakably familiar. Gen felt her stomach drop as she now became aware that Leo Gamp had read her book. That meant that he was now fully aware of Dante. The urge to turn around and leave now was overwhelming but her reason for visiting pushed her through the doorway into the dimly lit room.

“You backstabbing, vindictive, lying, vicious whore. Leo didn’t hold back, his voice dripping with venom. She heard the rattle of magical chains as he shuffled in the seat. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light, his features came clearly into view. Her husband no longer looked like the handsome twenty something she’d married. Chiseled and tanned features were now pale and angular. Warm green eyes were frosty and cruel. Short hair that had rivalled her own in it’s dark shade was now long, scruffy and peppered in grey, . He’d scraped it back into a ponytail and his beard was unkempt. The black and white striped shirt of Azkaban clung from his body, saggy, grubby and badly fitted. His hands were in his lap, balled into fists.

“Sit down, Mrs Gamp.” The guard behind her indicated the seat opposite Leo which Gen reluctantly took. She kept her leather jacket on, feeling a distinct chill in the air.

“You’ve read the book, then.” Nerves gave her voice an odd, unusual sound.

“We have a son. Why in Merlin’s name did you fail to tell me that we have a @*%$ing son?!” It was clear that Leo was trying to keep his voice down, fully aware that if he became too irate, the visit would be over and he’d return to his cell.

“I have a son. You gave up that right when you became a murderer.”

The movement was quick, Leo was out of his seat with his hands lifted as high as they could in the chains. He was about to hurl himself across the table when the wand went to his neck.
“Sit down, Gamp.” The guard’s voice held enough threat for Leo to still, check himself and lower back down. Gen let out the breath she’d been holding.

“My son. Whom you’ll never meet.” Gen dared, sitting stiffly on the wooden seat.

“You seem sure of that, Genny.” Leo eased back into the chair, still glaring hard at her. “You dragged my son into your &*@#ing publicity stunt. You think you’re a fit mother?”

“Here I was, hoping you’d asked me to come here because you’d finally decided to do the right thing and sign for our divorce.”

“Why? I’ll be home with my wife soon.”

“Don’t piss about, Leo.” Shaking hands reached into the pocket of her jacket where she pulled out the parchment her lawyer had given her.

“I will be home soon. With my whore of a wife and my son.” As Leo spoke, Gen started at him with her teeth clenched. “I’m disappointed in you, Genny. Giving up on me so quickly.”

“You’re dying in here, Leo. Please stop trying to drag me down with you.” The parchment was thrust across the table at him. To her right, the guard was clearly twitchy.

Grubby and worn hands took the parchment and he unfolded it, green eyes scanning the contents. He looked back up to her and grinned as the parchment was torn in two.
“Two months, baby. That’s all the lawyer says.”

Gen, suddenly pale as a ghost and feeling an overwhelming urge to throw up, stood up unsteadily.

“You better hand your notice in, Mrs Gamp, because no wife of mine is working for Witch @%*ing Weekly.”