Rehabilitation (Helen)

The Ministry had been adamant about Marilyn laying low and wearing her face and voice glamours, but the witch was a trained fighter, not some symbol. And she thought that the glamours were a blatant lie, so she refused them, not caring what people thought or if they were afraid of her.
What she didn't like were the paparazzi. But she'd hexed them into next tuesday when she'd found them snooping in her bins so they didn't bother her that much nowadays except to write passive aggressive columns on 'the witch who did the impossible- turned mad for it?' and that she could live with.
At first it had bothered her, that children stared at her and were frightened when she spoke, that those her age and older avoided her gaze. But now the witch didn't mind. It was the price she'd paid. And better battle-scarred and isolated than dead in the waters of Guantanamo.

On that depressing note, Marilyn pulled up the hood of her black cloak, wand hand ready to grab and hex as always, left hand clenched and face void of emotion, and apparated to Hogsmeade. There were just too many people in Diagon, and Hogsmeade was mostly full of students too terrified to cross her.

Entering the Hogs Head she took a seat at the bar and pulled her hood down, her tangled locks spilling around her scarred neck and shoulders, the long, jagged scar down her face caught the dim light mildly.
 
"One Pumpkin Juice, please." She rasped in her broken voice lowly.

Helen has fallen into a mind numbing routine that mainly consisted of waiting for news, drinking, ignoring the shady deals that were going on in her pub and trying not to think of Idella. The Hogwarts Professor was incredibly attractive, funny and smart and there wouldn't be any problem at all if she was Helen's usual one night stand or just something fleeting. The problem was that deep, deep down, Helen wanted something more and it scared her, so she was doing her best not to think of the witch at all.

There was also the question of Capulets and how nobody seemed to have any clue where the two siblings were. It was frustrating and annoying and it was making Helen angry, but that was mostly because she didn't let herself feel sad about it and rather focused on the anger. They were her two best friends and she didn't even know if they were alive.

She was leaning on the counter, doing her best to ignore the conversation at the back of the bar. She was pretty sure she heard someone mention Chimaera eggs and, frankly, she didn't want anything to do with that. Luckily, the door opened and somebody walked in, a welcome distraction from her thoughts and the black market.

Helen walked over to where the woman sat down and nodded at her order. She recognized her, it was the woman who broke out of prison, but Helen knew better than to mention it. She kept her face blank and poured a glass of pumpkin juice. Years of being in Slytherin taught her to mind her own business unless there's a chance of profit for her. This situation didn't seem to promise any profit for the witch. Not yet at least.

"Here you go. Long day?" the brunette asked, as the woman in front of her looked like shit. Not that she expected anything else, really.

For someone showing early signs of paranoia, the Hogs Head was probably not the best place to be. Still, with no badge, Marilyn wasn't able to book anyone. But she did remember faces well and would be using whatever intel she could for later use.

Nodding her thanks the witch took a sip of her drink before finally looking the other woman full in the face, something that usually made people flinch or shudder, but she had a feeling that she wasn't the shadiest character to ever stumble into the bar. Still, she knew her appearance wasn't without shock-value.

"They offered me Glamours." she rasped, "But I figured that's more hassle than help. In my line of work, it's likely to get much worse anyhow." After another few sips she added, "And I could ask you the same question." she cocked an eyebrow at the woman across from her. Marilyn knew she looked like hell, she knew she'd always look like hell. But that was good. Because hell is what she wanted to be, to any dark witch or wizard that crossed her path.
But that didn't mean she couldn't return a gesture.

"Lots of hassle, and not worth it." Helen agreed, nodding. She remembered trying the Glamour Charms back in Hogwarts, when she didn't want to get caught. Of course, she was much too young to really master it and it didn't work. Plus it gave Theo way too much blackmail material, so she stopped and just learned to be more stealthy.

"And I could ask you the same question."

Helen smirked. She pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and poured herself a glass. "It's always a long day 'till you start drinking." the witch shrugged. She wasn't about to go in a detailed discussion about her problems. She was a bartender, she was there to listen to other people's problems.

"What brings you around here? Don't you have any decent pubs in America?" She figured it was safe to assume the witch was American, judging on her accent. Truth be told, Helen never really took the time to read about her in the papers. She was everywhere, yes, but the bartender was far too restless to read through a long article.

"Cheers then." Raising her glass to clink with the bartenders' she  nodded.

"What brings you around here? Don't you have any decent pubs in America?"

Marilyn shrugged, "Maybe they do, but they also have some paparazzi I haven't been able to ward off. Plus the Ministry has me stationed here while I complete my Auror training. Figured if I can break out of Guantanamo I could escape the Ministry's eyes for a few hours." the witch croaked dryly.

"Have you run this place for long?"

The barkeep nodded as she listened and drank her firewhiskey. She wasn't surprised that the witch was going to become an Auror, it was sort of given. She did break out of the wizarding prison, after all and going after the bad guys was the next logical step. Of course, if anybody wanted Helen to become an Auror, she would just laugh in their face and then grab the nearest bottle of some sort of alcohol.

"It's not really that hard to escape those idiots." she commented and then held up the bottle. "Want something stronger than pumpkin juice?"

"Have you run this place for long?"

Helen shrugged. "Not really. I had another pub in Spain and then when that all went to Hell, I came here." She left out the part where she was tortured and then killed a person, but you know, details. "I used to sneak here from Hogwarts, it was the only decent pub around. So I figured why not own it."

"No it really isn't." She nodded in agreement, finishing her drink.


"Want something stronger than pumpkin juice?"

"Can't, Training and all." Not to mention it would probably interfere with the medication she still had to take in order to sleep at night. Dreamless Sleep Potion. Not exactly something you were supposed to take often, but it was either that or not sleeping at all. Mari had to choose something.

"But I can do another pumpkin juice."

"I used to sneak here from Hogwarts, it was the only decent pub around. So I figured why not own it."

Marilyn listenen attentively, "Which house were you? My sisters went to Hogwarts, one Gryffindor, one Hufflepuff."

When the woman said she could drink alcohol, Helen let out a low whistle. "I admire your willpower." She poured herself another shot, but then put the bottle away. Instead, she got herself a beer bottle after she did the shot. Drinking Firewhiskey alone in the middle of the day wasn't exactly as fun as drinking it with someone else.

The witch poured another pumpkin juice for the woman sitting in front of her as she listened to her. "Slytherin. How old are they? Maybe I knew them." Maybe I bullied them into doing my homework at one time or another, she added in her mind.

"Twins, 25 years old. Nora and Zooey. Hogwarts seemed very different from Salem. Then again, it's older and so is the magic that built it." she shrugged. She preferred not to think about the past. There was nothing to be done about it so the future was all that mattered to her. 
"Any siblings of your own?" Marilyn inquired as she sipped her drink, the tangy taste of the juice a welcome distraction from any deeper thought that threatened her calm facade.

"Twins, 25 years old. Nora and Zooey. Hogwarts seemed very different from Salem. Then again, it's older and so is the magic that built it."

Helen shrugged as the names didn't ring a bell, even though they were roughly the same age as her. "I mostly hung out with Theo Capulet. He didn't care about his future almost as much as I didn't care about mine." Damn, she missed him. More than she ever thought she'd miss the lanky, sarcastic, spoiled pureblood.

"Nah, only child. Apparently I was too much work and Mummy dearest didn't want to deal with another kid." she smirked, taking a swig of her beer.

The witch regarded the woman sitting in front of her and decided to ask about her friends. It was worth a try, even though she wasn't particularly optimistic. "When you were... in prison, did you happen to hear anything about Capulet siblings? They went missing in Spain and they're purebloods who didn't share that particular world view as some of the others." No showing emotion, Helen, her Mother's voice rang in her mind and she masked her face in a neutral expression and kept her voice even. "They'd make for good ransom, but no demands have been made. If they're dead, I want to know."

"Well my sisters don't look anything like me so you probably could't tell their faces from looking at mine. Well, now definitly not." she shrugged, "We're adopted. Two Moms."

Then the moment of truth. Marilyn's breath caught in her throat for a moment. Since escaping Marilyn had had three types of people that had tried to get her alone. 1)Black Widows. 2)Reporters. And the worst, 3) Searchers. Searchers ranged anywhere from curious friends of missing people to sobbing mothers looking for their children. Most of the time Marilyn was able to avoid them. Not only was it immensly taxing on her to go through her memories of that year, but she never had good news. And after the first time (a huge, huge mistake) when she had matter-of-factly given the unsuspecting searcher a brief rundown of what Guantanamo had been like the person had broken down sobbing in the street.

Marilyn set down her glass and let out her deep breath, meeting the womans eyes,
"I was in Isolation 90% of the time and too deranged to see straight the other 10%. The Widows killed most of us and turned the bodies into Inferi to guard the island. If they were taken to Guantanamo then they probably aren't alive. However, from what I gather I was amongst the oldest people there. They could be somewhere else."