Author's Note: Now, I know what you're thinking. "Wow. It's not dead." Actually it is, I just hate lose ends. Tune in sometime for Lucius and Narcissa's love story and the return of the plot!

Chapter Thirteen: Deus Ex Machina

Karel and Marjorie arrived at the Looking Glass late, but Conaire met them at the door. He was dressed in pale gray, with Isolde in deep blue and on his arm. Behind them, a small string quartet played traditional carols intermingled with waltzes. Silas and Lucius, both in black, trailed behind the parents into the party. In Silas' head Rio's word were buzzing. In his coat pocket was a small bottle of poison. He would only need to bide his time till the right moment came. He would have to be patient.

"You're late," Conaire was admonishing Karel with laughter. He turned for a moment, catching two drinks from the tray of a passing waiter and handing them to Marjorie and Karel. He seemed to remember himself then, and replaced one glass back on the tray. He put his hand on the waiter's arm. "I have a special black tea on the fire. Bring a glass for Master Malfoy, milk, no sugar…" He gave Karel a teasing look. "Light laudanum. I know your headaches at these events, Karel."

"Thank you, Con."

"Nothing to be thankful for." Conaire waved his hand, dismissively and turned to face the couple. "I was worried you weren't coming."

"You know I wouldn't you alone on this night." Karel returned, softly. He leaned over and kissed the corner of Conaire's mouth chastely. Conaire tiled his head at the last moment and pressed his lips to Karel's, teasing the corner of his mouth with his tongue. Marjorie made an annoyed noise and disappeared into the crowd. Lucius followed shortly afterwards. Silas made a choice to pretend to be searching the room. Karel, ignoring Silas, pressed closer to Conaire. "Where is he?"

Conaire bowed his head, eyes darting to the far end. "By the far corner, near the quartet." His voice turned bitter. "He brought his little sister."

Silas turned, to catch a vision of his quarry.

The man looked barely out of his youth. He wore, as best one could, a red, crushed velvet coat with a white Victorian lace shirt underneath, black trousers and high boots. The man looked he was a disciple of the fledging movement of young adults taking London now who seemed insisting on referring to themselves as architecture: the Goths. His skin was prefect for it too; a smooth creamy white that glistened like polished bone. His hair was sable and curled, framing his narrow face too perfectly to be natural.

On hand slid into his coat to remove produce a small silver box that the man opened seamlessly with one hand, and lifted to his nose, inhaling deeply.

Cocaine. Silas shook his head. It would be easier then he thought.

There was a girl standing next to Alphonse shared his bone white complexion, jet black hair and otherworldly taste, although she carried it better. Her hair was knotted on top her head in an attractive display. She wore a gentleman's suit, of a dark purple that at first appeared black. The boots she wore were simple riding chops, reaching to her calf but flat-footed, as if she were preparing to race rather then dance tonight. Her hands, covered with dainty black gloves, carried a riding crop that she held like a sword.

The girl felt Silas' eyes on her, and quite unashamedly turned her head towards his direction. Her eyes were a mixture of red jasper and fine merlot: a deep violet color that left him with the deep-seated impression that there was something wrong about this girl.

Her gaze held him until Silas flinched, and then, content with her victory, the girl looked away.

"You know I should kick you firmly in your family jewels and stalk out of this place."

"I knew if I waited long enough something interesting would happen." Severus Snape interjected as he joined Amissa by Silas' side.

Snape had his arm firmly around Amissa's waist, if only to avoid courting females although Silas was certain Severus was enjoying touching the creamy white skin that exposed itself under her shirt before it met her low-rise pants. It was obvious from the light eights Severus was tracing her skin with the tips of his cold fingertips, and the dark, teasing smile Amissa was sporting.

The pair had come dressed for scandal. Amissa wore jeans, and a shirt that did nothing to keep out the chill but ensured that many a male imagination would be in the gutter. Severus wore dress robes, with his ever present umbrella. It was draped over his arm, as he sipped from a glass filled with Brandy.

They looked like a true Slytherin couple: the woman and her benefactor with sentiments of love or true devotion never entering the equation.

"So, Silas…" Severus drawled in a mock-bored voice. "Where's the victim?"

Silas blinked and turned face the Akel Dama Lord. "I'm sorry?"

"There's no creature adorning your arm just yet." He told him, "That means I can only assume some virginal beauty has captured your lusts for the time being."

"You're a bastard, Severus."

"Of course I am." Snape nodded. "Of the highest degree. But that doesn't mean I'm being false." His dark eyes met Silas. "Now, tell me who she is."

Silas looked again to Alphonse, and his wine eyed beauty. He tucked his hands into his pockets, fingering the small vial of poison he nurtured till this time. He turned and studied Conaire. His heart was pounding in his chest. "No lady occupies my mind...just one fell deed."

Severus took a step back, meeting Silas with a knowing look. He shook his head, and turned to Amissa. "Come, the air's getting sour here."

Silas picked up a flute from a passing waiter. He turned, admiring it and tapping the vial towards the glass. A quick movement; even quicker to be forgotten, before he was back again with a cool smile. He reached over touching Amissa's back. "But dear pet, would you leave before helping me?"

Amissa smiled, tilting her head. "And since when did you need a woman's help?"

"I have only need of you." Silas saw Severus bit back his snide rebuttal, knowing the Akel Dama Lord was curious to see what would progress. He twirled her, and despite herself Amissa laughed. Severus smiled. Neither one could resist Silas for long. "That pale skinned couple there that appears to have been left over from the Enlightenment are my father's business partners." Silas offered his best smile to align perfectly to the way Amissa perked up upon hearing the prospect of rich, elegant fresh game. "Now it's been left to me to ensure the gentlemen is…well-indulged."

"So you want me to whore for you?" Amissa asked quietly, eyeing Silas out of the corner. Silas met her smile with his own overconfident grin as he slid his hand around her waist, and began to nibble on her neck.

Severus during this time had fallen back, returned the Brandy to a passing waiter and the Auror-paranoid gaze had returned. Silas made a note to avoid his gaze for his moment. Severus would not have stopped him, but Silas felt no desire to explain himself to someone who someday would be an enemy. Silas paused but chose not to think of that revelation.

He had no desire to accept the truth of that thought. He continued to ignore the Siddhartha and remained intent on his Grecian Goddess. Smiling, he said, "I would send the finest to any of my allies and who would think to equal you, Amissa?"

"Flatter." She purred, taking the drink from his hand. "Silver-tongued viper."

"So you'll help?" He asked.

In response, Amissa walked away with a purposeful sway of her hips. Silas watched her as she curled into Alphonse's company as she had graced Severus' arm. Silas licked his lips and watched proudly as the man sipped from the drink she offered him. He had done it.

He had protected Conaire. He had done as he said.

And Severus knew. Somehow the Auror-to-be, the Siddhartha knew because when Severus spoke again, Silas heard something in his tones that he had never heard directed at him: disgust. "And is your game worth it, Silas?" Severus intoned.

Silas turned, watching him. Judging. He couldn't have known, Silas told himself. There was no way Severus could have known of Conaire's dealings in the underworld, in the involvement of Dark Wizards, or Silas own act of murder. Severus was not savvy enough to outwit Silas. Of course not. "Game, Alexander?" Silas retuned, "Of what do you speak."

Snape stepped around Silas daintily, watching Amissa and Alphonse. "You could tell me." Severus whispered. "But there is a game. I can see it in your eyes. You're happy. And Silas, you are only ever happy when you are destroying someone. You're the only one I know who truly laughs when breaking down a person."

"It's well that you put the drink away, Severus. You're speaking nonsense."

"That's all that you are, Silas." Snape put a hand up, reaching for Silas and tracing his muscles under his hand. "Do not misunderstand. I love that about you." His dark eyes burned into Silas. "I just don't trust it. So, I'll ask again. Who is that man and what have you planned?"

"I told you, he's a friend of my father's."

"And what did you slip into his drink?"

Silas stumbled but only inwardly. He licked his lips and shrugged. "Something to loosen him up. What the booze and Amissa can't break down about him, the drug will. It's nothing serious…mother."

"I don't trust you."

"What, Severus? Do you think I'd kill him?"

Severus hesitated then, and shifted. His hand fell to his neck and soothed over his collar. He seemed paler now, as if the invocation of death had chilled him somehow. When he chose to speak again, Snape's voice had lost its bite, thankfully. "Forgive me Silas. I meant nothing…the brandy talking."

"Of course." Silas returned. "Severus, is it worth it? Holding everyone at arm's reach to maintain the guise that you are Akel Dama's Lord. The next King of Hecate Compound?"

"We all have our destinies, Silas. We all have something we would surrender everything for."

"The Auror's are yours?"

"…No. But I cannot be anything else. I am a Snape." Severus turned back, eyes sad. "That's how it works, I was born a Snape. I am an Auror, then. To be an Auror, to be my father, I sacrifice everything else. It's my purchase price. We all have it, like I said. We all have something we'll give everything for." Severus shrugged, looking his age for one brief moment as if he chose not bend under the weight Silas could not see. "Do you have something like that, my Silly-boy? Do you have something you'd give up…everything for."

Silas looked over, catching Conaire in his gaze. The older man seemed to feel his eyes on him because Conaire turned, and met Silas'. His face brightened softly and he smiled at Silas. When he was sure no one was looking, Conaire blew him a kiss.

Silas stared for a long time into the face of his beloved, thinking. He had just murdered for this man. Twice. He had sacrificed his own innocence for him, had betrayed and sinned against man, Amissa and God for him and now staring into Conaire's clear, sagely face Silas realized he felt nothing for him.

"No. Not yet." Silas demurred, as easily as if he'd been talking Quidditch. "Maybe. I doubt it."

There was a pause, and then. "Me too."