Chapter Eleven: Movement Two, Setting the Company

Amissa Moon was sprawled upon the couch like a Grecian goddess taken form. Her head rested in Silas' lap, allowing her silver hair fall over his black pants like a waterfall. Ivory arms rested above her head, with her delicate fingers playing with his shirt buttons. She had a thin smile on her lips, as if she enjoyed the conversation she was listening to but could think of better things to do with her time then chat the evening away, even if it was with Severus. And the look she cast to Silas every so often told him everything he needed to know of her intentions.

But Silas wasn't in the mood for sex games. He was too busy plotting his masterpiece. And this would be a masterpiece, he knew. He could craft it to become real and daring. He could make this into something no one had ever seen before. It would be his crowning glory. He now only wished for witnesses.

Severus was laughing at his sentimentality. "You want us, to go to your Uncle's party?"

"Not my Uncle's party. Our party. Our last party." Silas pleaded. "Think about it. This is the last chance we have to enjoy our childhood before all those lectures our parents give us come true. Next year, your going to be obsessed with Hecate exams and interviews, you won't have time for us. Amissa's going to be preparing for her OWLS, I'm going to be bribing teachers left and right just make sure I pass…let's face it, Lucius is the only one of us who's going to have it easy."

At the sound of his name, Lucius lifted his head from the book he was only pretending to read, met Silas' eyes warningly and then returned to his guise. Silas ignored him. He turned towards Snape, meeting the Heir of Akel Dama's eyes head on, and favoring him with his deepest, most sincere look. The unfrocked prince was watching Silas with a type of scrutiny that would do him well in his life as an Auror. He knew something was up. Silas knew he knew. Now it became a game of wits, to see who of the two would blink first.

Snape lost. The boy sighed, dismissing any troubling notion from his mind and exhaling in bravado. "I'll call Tante Lorraine and tell her of your plans." He was looking at Amissa.

She made a false sigh, and nodded. Amissa rarely went against the general consensus of other Illuminatti. "Zaida is going to be very upset with me."

Silas grinned. "Beautiful. You'll come a couple of days before the party, so we can hang out and we'll have a grand time."

"I'm sure whatever's up your sleeve will be memorable." Severus offered, before faking a yawn and standing to retire. He walked to the edge of the female side of the wing, and waited for Jamie to emerge so they could go to bed.

Jamie and Severus were an odd pair. They had been "sleeping" together since their first year, barring occasions with either had a partner. Both would defend to the death the chastity of their love; which only served to alienate Silas' even more from their cause. Love always had constructs and contracts, and the idea of a prefect union without such intimacy struck Silas as curious. He usually dismissed it with the theory that Severus was uncomfortable with the prospect of him taking a Mudblood lover being common knowledge.

Silas watched them retreat into the boy's bedroom and nodded. Yet Snape keep his secrets he thought to himself. Before it was all done, Silas would have his own to worry about.

Looking back, Silas would remember the exams and trip home for the holidays dimly, as he would remember the opening to a play. They just seemed to past before him like smoke, burning his senses and eyes for the moment, but become just as fleeting as vapor and forgotten just as easily. What he would remember would be how his Uncle's bar looked in holiday splendor. To put it simply, the Looking Glass glowed. Garland hung from the bar and stage area, with white lights and red ribbons winding through the greenery at tasteful intervals. The liquor caches were polished and shined under the light, making small rainbows dance through the room. It was early morning when he arrived and the dull pink morning was still safety out of view, affording him privacy as he walked up the stairs to Conaire's private apartment.

For as long as Silas could remember his uncle and aunt had lived in separate homes. Isolde and Conaire would appear at formal events, remain close to each other at parties and society meetings and even exchange chaste public displays of affection. They had a son named Kiernan who Silas never saw because the boy attended a year round boarding school in America. Isolde lived in a glittering town home in London with all her bills, and whims financed out through Conaire's multiple bars and pubs within the city.

Conaire preferred a small home in the flat plains of Kings' County Ireland where, by his best guess, his last human ancestors were descended. He built in a Muggle area, and paid for the upkeep of the Catholic Church there. In return, the parson tended to Conaire's plants and dogs when Conaire was away, and made sure Conaire attended Mass when he was. For most of the year, however, Conaire Kade Malone could be found in the upstairs apartment of the crown jewel of all his establishments- the Looking Glass Cabaret.

The Looking Glass was in a little forgotten metropolitan area, far enough from Calais to be removed from all that city's amenities but still close enough to be grouped with the city when asked where it's location was. In fact, the only claim to fame this city seemed to enjoy was that once during World War Two General Patton had been drunk enough to enter a drunken brawl with Field Marshall Montgomery. Conaire had bought the place this legendary battle had taken place, renamed and redid it, making it to the Looking Glass.

Silas doubted the story was true but it didn't matter. Conaire had bought and loved the place for that reason and so Silas would love it too.

The door to Conaire's bedroom was slightly ajar. Silas heard muffled sounds coming from behind the door, making him pause for a moment before curiosity over took his senses, forcing himself to go nearer. He felt his stomach sink as the sounds made sense in his mind- the deep grunts and heavy breathing. But still, Silas crept closer. He wanted to see.

Peering in, he saw Conaire's bare back facing the door. He saw the muscles tense and work under Conaire's dark skin, and the deep ugly scars that ravaged his torso and arms flex and shift as Conaire moved. His uncle's voice was low, and impeded as if he was psychically fighting back words. Silas watched for a long time, caught in a dim vertigo, until finally Conaire reached his end and fell limp against his paramour.

Silas stumbled back, turned and ran back to a room usually reserved for his pleasure. He jumped under the covers and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. He regretted his episode now that he could not expel the vision from his mind. He felt tears stinging his eyes, mixing with the desperateness of lack of sleep. His heart was pounding in his head, and to try harder Silas dug his head deeper into his pillows; willing slumber to come.

He froze when he heard the door open. Grabbing his last breaths, Silas shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He didn't want to see Conaire now. There was a deep throbbing pain in his chest that would only deepen if Conaire was there.

The figure walked into the room quietly but purposefully, making no sounds as the distance between the door and the bed was crossed. Silas felt someone sit on the bed, and faked a moan to pretend to be asleep. He knew Conaire would have known he was there. His uncle always knew. He waited for some greeting or mumbled word for what seemed like an eternity, before the mattress shifted even more under the new weight and Silas felt himself being kissed- softly but passionately. He jumped up, eyes fluttering open in alarm.

Conaire's new lover was sitting there in the pale morning light smiling at Silas knowingly. She was beautiful despite her age, which Silas placed at a little older then Conaire and devoid of any of Conaire's quiet aloofness. This woman exuded confidence; from the crown of short red hair and deep green eyes, to her toned fair body that was only partially covered.

"I felt your eyes on me." She whispered, quietly. "Do you require me?"

"Who are you?"

"I am called Rio Hecate."

"Are you his lover?"

Rio laughed and Silas decided he liked her voice, even if her amusement was at his expense. "Such a queer title for me to bear." She said, mainly to herself. "No, I merely satisfy his longings for a moment." She turned then, to study the doorway as if she half-expected Conaire to appear. "Such a magnificent creature," She mused, idly. "It is a shame he is enslaved so to his memories. But you already knew that didn't you?"

Silas turned. "My Uncle is a good man."

"Yes, but he could be great. He could be a King among insects but he denies himself so much…for you and others like you." Rio's eyes had taken on a darker tone, a secret and self-contained fire that made Silas shiver a little despite the warmth of the closeness between them. When she reached out to touch his chin, to bring his eyes back to hers, he didn't resist. "And again, I think you know that." She whispered. "He talks about you, you know. Very much. He wishes so much for you, and longs to be there for you." She tilted her head, tracing her fingers down his chest. Silas inhaled a little, nervous. "There's so many ways…he wishes he could touch you."

Silas heard himself speaking despite his best effort to remain silent. "Why doesn't he? Can't he see I'm dying for it?"

"Because he fears it. He will not release himself from his self-contained prison." She leaned closer, brushing her lips against his brow. "He will not take what he so desperately desires…because of his conscience, his inhibitions."

"I can help him!" Silas exclaimed, passionately. "I will help him." He felt a rush of power as Rio withdrew from him in surprise. He liked the idea of putting a woman as commanding as she on edge. "He's refusing to do away with one of his enemies but I will do it for him…I'll save him."

Rio's discerning look had returned. "How?"

Silas looked away, humbled.

"You mean to kill this enemy?"

"yes."

"How?" There was no rebuke in the woman's voice. Merely curiosity that was so simple and unassuming that Silas felt assured enough to share. "I'm going to poison him."

"I believe you." Rio laughed again, and began to pet Silas. "But it is a small thing to speak of such business, it is a far different matter to follow through."

"Do you doubt me?" He demanded.

"Not at all, I merely fear for your…execution. If you plan to do this masterfully, you'll need to learn the art behind it." Rio leaned forward, pushing Silas down unto his bed and hovering over him. Silas could smell Conaire's cologne and scent thickly on her and the darkness would afford his imagination a suitable cover. "But don't worry," the woman continued. "I'll teach you what you need to know."

Silas smiled darkly, before shutting his eyes, and pulling Rio nearer to him, basking in the scent before overcoming her with a powerful kiss.