Saturday Night

If one assumed Knockturn Alley was dangerous during the day, it was because they had never ventured there at night. At night the Alley transformed into the stuff of nightmares, a place where bad things could happen easily and no one would stop them. Turning off of the well-lit and maintained main road of Diagon Alley one stared into near pitch darkness. The first light was several shops away and stood swaying in the night, the light bulb flickering on and off. Every now and again when the light lit just so shadows could be seen darting around, whether they were man or beast would go undetermined until entry into the alley became necessary.

The buildings looked ominous; their shapes in the day forming into other things at night, terrifying displays of authority as they seemed to crowd in on you, making you feel suffocated. Creaks, squeals and howls emanated from the empty businesses and the storage spaces and apartments above them. They reverberated off of the stone walls of the buildings opposite and off the cobblestone street and alleyways. All that was missing was a true howling wind, not just the light breeze that was flowing from the head of the alley.

A lone figure stood there, making the turn from Diagon Alley into the underbelly of Wizarding Society. She pulled her cloak around her tighter as she descended from one place into the other, where an imaginary temperature change was taking place. She wasn’t scared, not at all. No one in the Alley in their right mind would touch her. She had the store, her friends and her reputation to depend on for that. Not to mention the little baby lying in her bag at the moment. It was used to the gentle swaying of her movements, but if someone were to dare attack her, they would be responsible for whatever the reaction might be.

Her heels clacked against the stones that made up the street as she made her way far into the Alley, heading for the locale of an old acquaintance of hers. They had been seeing each other more and more now ever since they had, joined forces in a way. She had yet to make up her mind about him, however. While there was an amount of respect, for he had essentially done the same thing Zachary had, she still didn’t know if she could trust the man as far as she could throw him – which really, wouldn’t have been far.

She finally reached the establishment and entered, shrugging her coat off before reaching into her bag to ensure her protection was alright. A soft hiss ensured her that all was okay and, straightening herself out, she moved towards the bar. She resisted the urge to scour both the bar and the stool she sat on, there was no point in insulting Cin, after all. This was his establishment and she was sure that he had to have some standards of cleanliness, even if he hadn’t heard of brushes or combs since Azkaban. Before then he had been better groomed, certainly.

 “A glass of vodka please,” she said softly to the man behind the bar. “On the rocks, with a twist.” Her final orders were gives as she carefully lay the bag on her lap, looking around the room at the other patrons, making eye contact momentarily with those who she knew were there for other reasons, and not simply because the Chimeara was so… inviting for their kind of business.

The descent into darkness of the world beyond the rickety, wooden double doors of the Black Chimeara had gone, largely, unnoticed by Cináed.  Since well before dusky, the occasional witch or wizard began pushing through those doors in seach of some mind-altering concoction and whatever questionable entertainment was to be had at the fine establishment that was the Black Chimaera. 

Three hours previously, a frayed-winged grey owl had deposited a short simple note on his table.   That worthless, lazy young wench he'd hired to help cover the bar in the evening wouldn't be coming in to help at the bar.  Nor would she be coming tomorrow.  In fact, the rest of the week looked grim.  Her boyfriend - a tall, scrawny, hairless kid who didn't look like he could stand up to an angry toad - had decided, last minute to take her on a trip to bloody somewhere.  Cináed had quickly forgotten where, but it was, apparently, more exciting to her than work.  To her credit, Cináed didn't know how, the girl had managed to convey that excessively privileged, I-deserve-evedrything mannerism in writing that dripped from every hand gesture and every tone she used.  Remarkably, after a long-winded explanation on how she couldn't pass up on the offer, even though it was merely half an hour before her shift, she still hoped she'd have her job whenever she decided to return. 

Oh, but wasn't she going to be surprised the next time she had the nerve to walk through those wooden doors. 

Grasping a trio of shot glasses filled with a slightly fizzing, blood red liquid, Cináed circled out from behind the bar and made his way over towards a cluster of wizards in the back corner.  As he approached, a chubby grey-haired wizard lept to his feet with a loud shout of dismay as, with a loud clash, a bundle of bones went crashing to the floor and sliding away under a table. 

"The thing's not down yet?" Cináed asked, shoving the shot glasses in the hands of their respective clients.  "Bloody hell, I thought it'd be done." 

"Naw, Cin, it's fighting back.  I think I just lost me five galleons on the bloody terrier.  You said it was a terrier, right?"  The pile of bones under the table gave a slight shudder but finally scrambled upright with the help of a slight prod from one of the onlookers' wands. 

"I didn't take the dead thing to one of the muggle animal doctors to find out for sure, Chris.  It looked like a terrier.  That's all I know.  Is Manfred sure that was just a cat?"  He leaned against the back of one of the spectators chair for a moment, watching as the skeleton of the presumed terrier raced back into the circle and made a valiant lunge at the cat skeleton's neck.  It was a silent attack - and a blind one.  Both of the creatures were, in fact, dead, their bones simple mobilized.  There was real consciousness to either animals, though Manfred seemed bent on finding a spell that could actually give them full, conscious life for the fights.  As of yet, it was still a souped up version of boys sitting around fighting with action figures - even if the action figures were the skeletons of animals. 

"You want another." Cináed took Manfred's empty glass and returned to the bar.  When he reached  it, another customer had graced the pub with her presence.  "Evening, Adair," Cináed offered with a charming grin as he leaned against the bar.  "You know, it's fight night.  Better keep your friend under wraps.  No one wants to loose their bets because a serpent intervened." 

He filled the young woman's drink and slid it across to her.  Manfred's order to wait, momentarily.  He was on his fifth, after all.  He wouldn't notice until one of the skeletons gave up.  "How's the boutique life treating you, this evening?"

“A pleasure to see you Tawse.” A shadow of a smile appeared momentarily on her visage. Cináed could actually be alright to be around, and he knew one of her darkest secrets. There was a certain amount of camaraderie that came with being a part of the group, even if no one could see eye to eye about, well, anything really. She had yet to truly decide her stance on the man before her. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite explain to herself, but whatever it was it made people around him respect him. Perhaps it was the power of fear, she was positive that more than one person feared Cináed, even if she wasn’t one of them.

“How barbaric,” she said, disdain apparent as she looked over at the men crowded around the two animals. “Sasha here could end both of their lives mildly painlessly. One quick bite and in a few moments they would be down. They’re fairly small, ratty things.” The cat and dog had nothing special about them other than the fact that they were both close to death. Of course, it was barbaric to have them fight like that. To see them hunted expertly by a creature ready to go for the next available prey, lying in weight and then striking with speed and precision, that was beauty, that was art.

She reached into the outer pocket of her bag, where she kept all of the items she needed when one of her babies travelled with her. She produced from it a cigarette case with matching lighter, running her fingers over them gently. Engraved on both of them was an intricate – if wrongly done – monogram, bearing the letters AZA. Zachary had placed his middle initial in the center, due to his annoyance at Ro’s insistence on calling him ZAA ZAA otherwise. In his mind AZA had sounded better, so throwing caution to the wind he placed the letters as he pleased. The two items were a matched pair and instead of having her own case, she had kept his which was found on his body upon his death. At least the Ministry had been kind enough to give her his belongings, not that it meant she would be forgiving them anytime soon.

She pulled out a cigarette for herself and extended the case to Cin. It was the polite thing to do, and Rocio was up on her smoker’s etiquette. “They give off a lovely lavender smoke, though it doesn’t last long. Perfect for the indoors, not that it seems any of your other patrons mind about that.” Smoke rose from nearly every corner of the bar, and with the windows closed, the smoke was simply gathering, like a mist enveloping the room. At least it was a pretty mist as the simplest of grey smoke cigarettes found the smokes from more elaborate and expensive brands. Greens, Blues and Purples every now and again could be seen rising from people’s mouths and their cigarettes.

She took her drink and took a long sip before answering his question. “This evening it has been excellent. Yesterday was the problem.” She shuddered at the thought of having run into Katz without her snake on her. Had little Sasha been with her then, well, she wasn’t quite sure how things would have gone. Little Miss Muggleborn probably would have been spooked by the sight of the creature’s head slithering out of Ro’s bag. “I had a run-in with Akiva Katz, the goody-two-shoes Ministry Librarian. I absolutely loathe her, and of course everyone else who breathes just seems to love her.” She rolled her eyes and took a puff of her cigarette, the lavender smoke leaving her mouth in small rings, disappearing almost as soon as they appeared.

“Perhaps after the fight is over Sasha could clean up for you,” she said with a smirk. “Though we would have to clear everyone out, who knows what he might do if they approached him while he was catching and eating his prey.” Who knew, the snake might even find a live rat or two lurking in the dark nooks of the establishment. Really, he would be a better mouser than any cat Cin could bring in there, and Ro was always fascinated with watching them hunt – from afar of course. He had been fed two days prior, and she was sure that he would be hungry enough to finish off whichever of the scrawny things lost. “Of course, if I were interested in such barbarities, I would release Sasha, head over there and put my entire fortune on the snake.”

Then again, she supposed that the men would wonder what snake and would not even see him coming by the time he had coiled around the two creatures and ended their miserable lives. Cin might not like it if she were to anger some of his more regular customers anyhow. Not to mention the fact that Sasha was above playing such games, and he might bite one of the men and that would be hard to cover up or explain afterwards. She shook her head and turned away from the disgusting spectacle, looking back at the man before her. “And you? How is business these days?”

From a shelf underneath the bar, Cináed pulled out a (relatively) clean shot glass and a tumbler and set them both on the bar.  He poured a few splashes into the tumbler from various bottles behind the counter and gave the metal container a shake as he laughed.  "Barbaric?"  Cináed smiled broadly and paused mid-shake, glancing towards the corner, just as Chris lept to his feet, punching a fist victoriously in the air.  "I never took you for a sensitive one.  Standing up for skeleton rights these days?" 

Cináed barked a laugh, shaking his head.  "Ahh, let the men have their fun.  Our simple minds need something to excite us."  The liquid that dribbled into the shot glass was almost a charcoal black.  The drink, with its characteristic shimmer, was the pub's namesake and Cináed's personal favorite.  It was warming, burning, tingling and smooth all at once but blessed be the drinker who had chapped lips or other abrasions in their mouth. 

He barked another laugh and glanced down at Rocio's bag.  "Hate to disappoint young Sasha there, but this may be a one fight he's no match for.  Seeing as how they are already dead.  As I understand, your little friend's bite isn't a scary if you have no flesh."  He hoisted the glass of black liquid in the direction of the center of the room as the skeleton of a cat came racing out of the circle of wizards.  Its skull dangled haphazardly on top of the last neck bone, teetering threateningly.  "Excuse me, darling.  We can't have any runaways here.  Having the skeleton of a cat running Diagon Alley may bring unwanted guests and I can only take one surprise Ministry inspection a week." 

Cináed set his glass on the counter and pushed himself up to sit on the top of the bar, sliding across to the other side.  He grabbed a broom out of the corner, which suspiciously appeared to have been placed there for just such a purpose.  "Back you go, Fluffy.  Or Mogey, or whatever your name was.  There's no running away."  The skeleton scrambled slightly as it got swept back towards the corner.  It took only a moment for Manfred to make his way over, wand drawn. 

"Need some magical help there, Cin?" 

"Ah, shut it, Chris," Cináed chuckled back, good naturedly.  Of course, his wandless status was a sore point and most of his usual boozers knew as much.  Most recognized what the wandless status meant; it was a sacrifice many of those that fought - and didn't run - carried.  But, there were many that thought too much of it.  That believed themselves superior because they still had theirs.  But, Cináed knew Chris was joking; there were few who'd make serious comments about the matter in front of him.  He would have a wand again, one day.

Cináed slid onto a stool next to Rocio and slid his drink towards him.  "Much obliged," he offered as he reached for a cigarette, his gaze darting over the initials.  He gave the case a nod of respect before tapping the cigarette against the bar.  The cigarette had been about to grace his lips when the woman next to him explained their traits.  "Oh-ho?"  Cináed rolled his head and looked at Rocio, his chin tucked in a manner that gave the impression of peering over the rim of one's glasses.  Of course, if one were to envision the non-existent glasses.  "Do I really come across as a lavender sort of guy?" he asked, regarding the smoke already drifting from Rocio's mouth dubiously.  "Should I be reading into this?" 

Cináed took a sip of his chimaera and listened to the story of the muggleborn ministry official's visit.  "Ahh.  What did she want?"  He asked, curiously.  "Was she shopping or snooping?"  Hopefully, it was the former.  Cináed was well aware of Rocio's efforts to remain under the Ministry's suspicion radar.  Had that been an option for him, he might try the same tactic.  Of course, he'd blown that possibility the day he'd taken up arms at Hogwarts.  "It must be infuriating.  Having to act relatively well-behaved around them?  I suppose, if she gets too pesky, you could always recommend a certain pub to her.  I have the luxury of not playing the game."  Oh yes, he'd be happy to whip up a particularly heavy drink for any undesirable visitors.  He'd be sure to give it a twist, as well.

"Now now, keep that reptile of yours under control.  Happy guests drink.  Drunk guests keep buy drinks.  Not all of us can simply hope to get backup business from the Hogwarts shoppers."  Cináed laughed again, considering the collection of guests steadily filling the room. "But, if he'd really settle for bones, he's welcome to a few of them.  However, I promised the femurs to Seamus over there," he nodded a head over towards the fireplace.  In the glow of the fire on the stone floor, doing his best impression of an area rug, sprawled Cináed's very lazy looking mastiff.  "I have to bribe him somehow to leave the bones alone during the fight."  The large dog opened an eye and rolled it, lazily, in the direction of the fight.  If the dog had any motivation to move after the scrambling bones, he didn't show it.

"Business is fine.  Ministry stopped by to snoop around a few days ago.  They've been shadowing a few of us ex-Azzies* since those murders at Hogwarts.  And, I can't find help that's worth anything.  The last chick just shuffled off on vacation after two weeks.  The wench.  I swear, I need reliable help or a wand or ... bugger.  I don't know.  Why's it so difficult?"

(*ex-Azzies - ex-Azkabaners)

A faint blush settled on Rocio’s cheeks for a moment as she realized how wrong she had been. “I assumed they were alive. I could not very well see it properly from over here.” There were many men surrounding the area and all she heard was the talk, not to mention the idea of any form of animal fight. Though she supposed that watching the snake hunt for mice that she loosed was no less barbaric. Everything was a matter of perspective, after all. There were some people who even thought that she was foolish for having snakes the same way she thought it was barbaric to put money on animals fighting each other. “Though, if the skeletons were once quite pureblooded then I suppose, yes, I am standing up for skeleton’s rights.”

She laughed a little herself, shaking her head. “Sasha won’t be too disappointed, believe me. He would rather I left him in his cage unattended and undisturbed. However, he is the tamest; the one I can trust the most. He bites, yes, but his true power comes in his strength to constrict items. Believe me, that this is an absolutely fascinating spectacle to watch – unless, of course, you are being constricted. Once he grows more, though, I will not be able to carry him around anymore. He is still fairly small.” This was true, when at full length, poor Sasha would need to stay at home, and she would simply have to become more imposing somehow.

She observed the fluidity in Cin’s movements as he slid over the bar and made his way to shoo the cat back to its place. He was pretty flexible for having the appearance of one so cumbersome. Where she to attempt what she had just done she would probably have to stand on a barstool just to get high enough to sit on the bar. The action of the other man caused Ro to arch an eyebrow and wonder that Cin would allow it to roll off of his back. She assumed it was a much more sensitive subject, and as such would rarely mention this. A wand was such an important symbol for them, she knew that she would not appreciate losing hers, even if she could master wandless magic.

“If there is something to read into, then perhaps you should. You simply come across as the type of man who would accept a cigarette if offered, regardless of the colored smoke. I do not usually smoke cigars in public, nor do I wish to carry them in case I wish to offer someone something.” She shrugged and took another drag of her cigarette as he tapped his own against the knotted wood of the bar. “If you do not want it, there is no reason you have to accept it. I was simply being courteous.” It really didn’t matter to her whether he smoked the cigarette or not, at the end of the day it would really make no difference. Though she did not understand why a cigarette should imply anything.

“Neither, we met on my way to deposit the day’s earnings. She had the gall to bump into me. I almost had to burn the clothing I was wearing from the sheer stink.” She shuddered a bit and shook her head. There were few things in the world she hated as much as Akiva Katz. The foolish muggleborn was really going to get herself into trouble if she kept going in the manner she was. She could not just go bumping into purebloods and acting all superior, one day she would find herself being snotty and self-righteous to the wrong one. No one wanted to hear about how she was a muggleborn and that was just fine, no one at all. Perhaps she assumed that pride would take her very far, when really, such a thing could never fail to cause trouble.

Fortunately Ro was seen as a relatively upstanding member of society, despite the connections she had adopted by marriage. She was able to convince the Ministry that she was a decent witch, even if she was sometimes watched for this, that or the other thing. “It is not really too difficult, I suppose, to make them believe you are upstanding. I don’t commit large atrocities and any dark magic is kept to the home. My breeding attempts are being kept under wraps as well. They know very little about my babies and I intend on keeping it that way until the proper time arises.” If the Ministry knew about them, well, she was sure that they would probably try to raid the house again, attempt to confiscate any magical creatures. She only had a boomslang though, nothing too horrible. It was not like she was trying to hatch a basilisk.

“I would love to send her to you! Of course, the little scaredy Katz will not enter Knockturn Alley. Perhaps she is worried that something bad may happen to her were she to wander too far away from the niceties of Diagon Alley.” She smirked and shook her head, knowing that if Akiva thought that she was all too right. There would be many people who would not mind harassing and attacking a muggle born, even if she did happen to work for the Ministry. “Besides, there is no need for you to end up back in a cell in Azkaban. What would I do without you for a friend?” The word slipped off her tongue smoothly, surprising even herself, but yes, Cináed was a friend indeed.

“I promise, I will not let Sasha out,” she said with a nod. “He does not like bones anyhow. If you have a rodent problem, however, I could loan you my babies, we would just have to do this when no one would be around, and you can watch them hunt.” Her eyes gleamed with excitement at the idea of watching her babies slithering around the Chimaera, searching for prey in the deepest corners. It was exhilarating to watch them hunt. Cináed might actually enjoy that even. “Then again, I could always drop you an owl the day before I feed them and you can watch the house elves struggle. There are a few that have gotten the hang of it, but others simply keep being bitten or constricted.” The image of the game was clear in her mind as she spoke of it, how she loved to watch.

“Well, there are other forms of backup business and believe me, if you are careful enough you can keep from getting caught. Besides, we both know that the Boutique is there because I would be bored with my life otherwise.” She sighed softly and took a drag of her cigarette. She had a fortune, she could sit back and never had to work a day in her life if she chose not to, but she was also alone. Even if she would have simply traded her snake venoms out, she tended to stick mainly to trading them with friends and particularly close relations. She did not need the venom and it was fun sport to watch the snakes be milked for their venom by a house elf.

“The Ministry is only around to cause trouble.” She huffed softly and rolled her eyes. As far as she knew they had never done anything good for anyone other than the people who worked there, and even they were screwed over sometimes. “I’m amazed they do not have anyone checking in on me. Though I suppose they assume that when the manor was raided after the battle they got everything. Though I’m not quite the murdering type, am I.” She supposed she was not, at least, not with her own two hands. She was too petite, and could be easily physically overtaken by anyone if magic were to be denied them. The thought was enough to make her desire to physically or magically attack people very low.

“As for finding good help, if you ever need any wand work done towards keeping them around, feel free to let me know. My own employees seem terrified that I will hex them at any given moment. I find it is oft better to keep them with that constant fear.” Then again, she supposed that even without magic, Cináed had outward strength, physical strength that would terrify people and keep them from crossing him. Though they also had the protection that he was not too long out off Azkaban, they assumed the Ministry watch over him would keep them safe. “It may be the coming summer that makes it difficult, perhaps you need to try and find a man to work here rather than a woman anyhow, a man might enjoy the atmosphere more.”

The blush was delicious.  Cináed waggled his eyebrows at Rocio, grinning.  He took his shot glass once more in his hand and tipped his head back and swallowed the remainder of the black liquid.  "Naw, they're dead.  And Chris cleans off the bones so they don't stink.  Act feisty enough to be alive but they're not."  He looked over towards the bag next to Rocio but knew better than to investigate further.  As intriguing and peculiar as snakes were, he knew they were unpredictable and testy.  Before his curiosity got him into more trouble then he was bargaining for, he looked back towards the group of gamblers.  "We tried live animals once.  They were too loud - drew too much attention.  We went with the ones without throats after that."  Cináed laughed.  "Pureblood?  Who knows.  By the time we get them, they're rather hard to check." 

Cináed looked again at the bag.  "Trustworthy snake," he said, shaking his head.  That seemed an interesting oxymoron.  He was fascinated with the creatures - of course.  If anything, it was a side effect of being in Slytherin house.  One couldn't get through the seven (or in his case six) years of being surrounded by snake-covered banners and paintings and not develop a fascination.  But, he could never image having one - living with one.  They were just too cold, too dissimilar from himself.  After so many years in Azkaban, he found the large, furry warm presence of furred animals a welcome.  Of course, he'd never admit such - let others come to that conclusion on their own.  It wasn't hard to tell, considering the lump of dog lying by the fire.  "I'm sure it's quite fascinating.  Seamus is quite boring in comparison."

Cináed regarded the cigarette a moment, rolling it between his fingers.  Of course, the proper gesture would be to accept the cigarette without giving it a second thought.  The color of smoke could easily be seen as a trivial matter but it was the details that defined the manner in which one presented themselves.  Without a wand, it was only the details that really kept his reputation sound.  He couldn't intimidate with magic nor could he protect himself with it.  As he learned to adjust to a wandless life in the violent underbelly of the magical world, he'd quickly discovered the value of first impressions for him.  He established his place in the world through his reputation, his status as an ex-Azzie, the connections he made through the bar and the power of first impressions.  As insignificant it might seem to most, having such a feminine color smoke drifting from his mouth when the wrong person walked through the door could be quite a mistake. 

"I've got a reputation to uphold," he said, simply, handing the cigarette back to her.  "Nothing personal.  It was a very touching gesture."  In place of the cigarette, he reached across the bar for the alcohol tumbler and refilled his shot glass. 

"Katz," Cináed repeated the name, his voice dropping and becoming more serious.  He lifted his glass and peered into the darkness of the liquid.  It seemed to be a name that was tossed around fairly regularly.  In some circles, she seemed to be the poster child for the pitifulness of muggleborns.   Cináed had never crossed paths with the woman but he suspected she must be a piece of work.  "A klutzy muggleborn it sounds like."  He took a sip of his drink.  "They've been straying further and further out of place.  They think they won and they think they're free to parade anywhere they wish with no regards to their superiors.  We've been quiet too long; licking our wounds.  They need to be reminded of their place."

Unlike Rocio, Cináed had no reputation to uphold beyond the end of Knockturn Alley.  Or, rather, no reputation of being an upstanding citizen.  He doubted there were many outside the Alley that would delude themselves into thinking he was an upright solid citizen.  He'd been expelled.  He'd taken his share of victims in the battle ten years ago.  He was in Azkaban within a month of coming of age.  As his Ministry Supervisor put it, he was considered unpredictable and untrustworthy and being given his only second chance.  And, he had more to benefit from maintaining his reputation then denying it. 

"It may be easy for you."  Cináed laughed and took another sip.  "I doubt they'd be believing me anytime soon.  I'd have to work to get them to think I'm upstanding.  I fear that'd include getting a slight trim.  Which won't be happening."  He passed his fingers through a section of hair, shaking his head.  "They try to keep on top of everything I do.  Right down to the food I order."  Cináed kept little around him that raised suspicion.  He followed the rules - begrudgingly - but he followed them nonetheless.  His apartment was clear.  Anything of question was tucked away in the back room.  "They are just looking for a reason to lock me away again.  For good." 

He shook his head.  "Naw.  No rodents.  I leave out a few slices of bread soaked in firewhiskey.  That seems to take care of them."  Her excitement was endearing and he didn't want to disappoint her.  "I admit serpents aren't exactly my favorite.  It'd be fun to watch but I wouldn't want them lingering unattended.  But, if you want to bring them by to let them do their thing you're welcome to.  But, you don't need to leave them."

Cináed let out a long, slow sigh and downed the rest of the shot.  "Perhaps.  There are lots of jobs.  There may be a few I could do.  But, if we're being honest my options are limited.  There's not much a wandless ex-Azzie with only a handful of O.W.Ls behind him can do.  And, I have no family money to live off of.  Everything I did have went into this place." 

"Well, like you said, they don't have much on you."  He looked at the woman next to him, considering her a moment.  A broad, amused grin settled on his face.  She was on the slight side.  "The murdering type?  What would that type be?  Dare I ask if I seem the murdering type?"   With a slight snort, Cináed shook his head.  "Naw; I don't need you instilling fear for me.  I may not have a wand, but I've found other ways.  If I can't keep it going myself, it won't be there.  I do well enough and most seem to accept I'll have a wand again at some time."

She noted his glance at her bag, and wondered how far his curiosity might actually take him. It would be amusing for Ro to see how he would react should Sasha become upset and constrict his hand. Things might not end well for the poor snake if he were to even try that. “If you want to hold him, you will have to wash your hands. The smell of any form of food will make him bite.” Her eyes shone at the idea of her snaking biting anyone foolish enough to stick their hands near it without washing first, but she would warn Cináed, no point in making an enemy out of a friend now was there? She liked Cináed too much, and letting him get bitten for her personal amusement would probably end badly, even if she could heal him up with a spell.

She looked over at the men once more as Cináed spoke of using live animals. She supposed that as barbaric as that was, it was on par with her putting live animals in the room with her snakes during feeding time and letting them hunt. She found that it was actually much better for them to be able to hunt their own food. This kept their natural instincts sharper and this was something Ro valued. “I suppose if they enjoy losing their money for no reason then that is their own business. Though you do get a nice income from it I can guess.” She supposed that the men could sit there and drink all night if it took that long.

She wasn’t quite sure how to take his attitude about Sasha being trustworthy, he really was. At any rate he had never bitten or tried to constrict Ro, even if he thought about it at any time, it had never shown. She loved all of her snakes, but the venomous ones were always testier. They liked her well enough, but she could never be sure that they would not bite her. This was why her most fervent desire was to be a parseltongue. If it could be learned, she would surely have tried to do so. It would have been infinitely useful with all the reptiles that resided in her house. “Seamus is much less of a danger or a threat. He bites, but no venom comes from it to paralyze you swiftly. Before you know what is happening, you can be dead.”

She continued to smoke her cigarette, observing that Cin had not lit his yet. Perhaps he was not in the mood for a smoke, or there was something the matter with the one she had offered him. Then again, it may imply have been the distraction of other things happening which kept him from lighting it. She would never really know and really did not care. When he handed it back with his explanation she nodded, slipping it back into it’s place in the cigarette case. “No offence taken,” she said quietly. She understood where his reasoning was coming from.
 
“Klutzy and foolish, the kind that needs to be taught a lesson, and yesterday she just went too far.” She took a drink pausing, contemplating what Akiva had said. ”You had someone.” The mudblood’s words still echoed in her mind. She had had someone, a very special someone, and Katz had pushed the buttons of the wrong witch. In her mind, that was mentioning Zachary in a less than positive light, and that was punishable. Her voice dropped, low enough for Cináed to hear, but unwilling to share her weakness with any of the others in the bar, not that anyone else was paying her much mind, they all knew better than to go near the Adair. “She went out of her way to remind me of Zachary’s death. Attempted to spout some nonsense about how I am alone and she is not.”

Rocio was far from alone, she had friends. Her friends may not have been upstanding Ministry types, but she preferred them dishonest in a different way. They simply weren’t the people you would want to meet in a dark alley or alone if you did not know them well. Then things might not bode well for you. She could only hope that someday Kattz would learn that one should never bother the Queen Bee, there were too many willing to protect her. Not to mention the fact that the law really did nothing to help the case because no one Rocio was friends with was actually afraid of the Ministry, they were a foolish group of people who had assumed power.

“I suppose it is easier for me than for you,” she agreed. “They see me as a husbandless woman who is related to Deatheaters only by marriage. It is fortunate, then, that my father has always been a Diplomat in good standing who does not believe in intermarriage but preaches tolerance.” She rolled her eyes at the idea of her father and his silly views. It was people like him that had killed Zachary, people who believed that tolerance was the best policy, who believed that they all needed to get along. It was something that would never happen.

She looked him over and couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “A haircut might do you some good, you know, or perhaps simply a trim of your beard.” She was tempted to tug on the beard playfully, but decided against it. They were friends, yes, but they did not have that sort of confidence with each other. “I’m sorry that they make your life miserable. Just remember, some day they will be sorry.” She firmly believed that one day the Ministry would fall and the fools who had put it all together would live under pureblood rule.

She nodded as he mentioned the firewhiskey soaked bread, her inward disappointment not showing on her clear face. She was used to the fact that other people simply did appreciate snakes the same way she did. Her love for them even seemed extreme to other people who knew her and had seen the way she treated them. There were others though who found her love for snakes useful. She could provide venoms, skins and eggs. Anything that was necessary from snakes in potions, Rocio was willing to dispense of to her friends and even people she barely knew, though they had to pay a price.

His admission that snakes were not his favorite really did not surprise her either. “Well, you are always welcome to drop by the manor and watch them be fed. I usually do so from the story above where their cages are. It is the best view of the proceedings, especially when the house elves get caught.” The number of house elves she had actually lost to her snakes was moderately high, but she was loathe to deny them their excitement or their prey once they had caught it, even though a simple charm would stop them.

“You assume I mean upstanding jobs that the normal citizenry would do.” She shrugged her shoulders and a shadow of a grin appeared on her face. She meant more like illegal trades, playing the black market for all it was worth. Perhaps if not he could be someone’s muscle. Getting paid to stand there and look menacing was probably something Cináed could do with ease. She assumed that it really would not be the first time anyone was afraid of the mere sight of him, he could seem very menacing if one did not know him at all.

She took a drag of her cigarette exhaling the smoke slowly before speaking again. “I am sure that you did use everything, though I am sure as well that you are not above doing certain favors for money. You could go around putting people in their place and the like. I think you would be very good at that job, even without a wand.” Brute force could be used in place of other manners of persuasion and she was sure that it would be just as effective as a wand drawn. In fact, in Cináed’s case it might be more effective even.

She shrugged once more, she supposed it was fortunate that she had enjoyed diplomatic immunity at the time of it all, but opted not to participate anyways. She liked to stay under the Ministry radar. Especially since she had long since become a British citizen and lost her rights to any form of immunity granted diplomats when her father left the country she knew it was better to be safe than sorry. Before she simply would have been deported, but now it would be Azkaban and the idea of Azkaban was too much for her to bear. She would not be able to last even one day.

“If you are asking whether I think you seem intimidating, the answer is yes – which is most likely why you do not need my help with wand work. You can be charming, witty and well-educated, but people who know you simply from looking at you would probably have nightmares. I suggest you take that as a compliment. Instilling fear in others is an honorable goal.” She smirked at him and took a sip of her vodka. She really did think he should take it as a compliment that people feared him simply from looking at him. When one did not have a wand they needed to rely on their outward appearance to show others that they had better not mess with them at all.

With a snort of a laugh, Cináed looked back at the bag, admittedly intrigued by this invitation to hold the snake.  It was a tempting offer in that morbidly fascinating way - the same motivation that seemed to draw some people to embark upon potentially dangerous behavior. It was the thrill and the drive of "what if."  Of course, if the snake decided to do anything, he'd have to be careful to refer to Rocio.  If he was left to his own devices with the thing, it'd probably wouldn't bode well for the snake. 

But, curiosity finally got the better of him.  He slipped back over the bar and needlessly washed his hands - he hadn't eaten anything in quite some time, but he didn't feel the need to tempt fate.  Who knew how long food smells lingered.  "Alright, let's see this worm," Cináed said, leaning against the inside of the bar, again.  "If he starts doing something funny, you'll ... do whatever it is you do to make it stop?  I'm afraid my knowledge is limited to ..."  he pantomimed the beheading of some creature.  He certainly had no intentions of harming the snake - he knew Rocio had an attachment to it.  But, if it was him or the snake, he had no intentions of letting the snake win.  It was safe to assume such a result wouldn't be welcome to either Cináed, the snake or Rocio. 

Cináed looked over towards the men in the corner and laughed, shaking his head.  What did Rocio really expect from them?  That they'd be sitting around playing a jolly game of Wizards Chess?  "How do you expect us to pass our time?"  Cináed said.  "I don't exactly draw the most sophisticated clientele.  The fight's exciting; the gambling's what makes it fun.  And, yes, it does encourage them to drink.  Which only helps if they pay their tabs."  Cináed's voice rose for the second half of the sentence, projecting it across the room. 

A short, balding wizard in the furthest chair seemed to be the only one to hear the Cináed's suggestion and he looked up from the fight.  "What's that, Cin?" he called over with a dubious smirk.  "Oh, yeah yeah.  I'll pay it.  At some point." 

Cináed shook his head and looked back to Rocio, rolling his eyes.  "Their useless."  Cináed's gaze flickered across the room at the lump of brown fur by the fire and laughed heartily.  Dangerous was the last trait one would use to describe the mastiff.  "Oh, he's about as useless as that lot," Cináed said, nodding towards the men.  He gave a slight whistle.  The dog's ear twitched but, finally, after another quick whistle, the dog begrudgingly pushed himself to his feet.  He padded slowly across the floor towards them at the bar.  "Actually, he fits in quite well.  I keep him around for companionship, not protection.  I'm not sure there's a thing he does swiftly.  Except, perhaps, falling asleep. 

Cináed lifted an eyebrow as he listened to the summary of Rocio's encounter with Katz.  It did seem a low blow - speaking of her fallen husband in such a manner.  It was the righteousness that came from winning the war - they thought they could speak as they wanted of the defeated.  "You had to sacrifice.  Doesn't mean you are alone," he said darkly, firmly.  "They can't even fathom what we lost those years.  From both sides."  A taste of the bitterness he carried showed through. 

Cináed was never and would never be a fan of Lord Voldemort.  The wizard had done just as much damage to their class as the Ministry had - a class he didn't even belong to.  And, he'd been just as quick to toss his followers aside when they'd been used up.  But, there were many former Death Eaters in their ranks; Cináed was far from being in a position to rile any feathers.  His disdain of the old Death Eaters was there, though he was careful to keep it under wraps in the wrong company.  "One day, they will feel what it is like."

The mastiff had finally ambled his way to the bar and shoved his head against Cináed's hand.  Absent-mindedly, Cináed's fingers traced along the soft, warm wrinkles between the dog's eyes.   "Ahh, yes, the daughter of a diplomat gone astray.  As if you didn't know what you were getting into.  What do they think?  You married a man without noticing the small detail of him being a Death Eater?  I suppose, since the mark was hidden until the old man came back, how could you?"  He snorted derisively.  His tone was bitter but the sarcasm was there.  He was tired of the age old assumption that they were idiots. 

But, he always tried to avoid lingering in bitterness.  The Ministry had already stolen enough from him; he tried to avoid letting them steal his good mood.  "My dear, you are making me depressed," he said, though his tone was back to its usual amusement.  "I can see how a diplomat for a father would have made it easier; seems I struck out there as well.    My father was arrested as a Death Eater, given the dementor's kiss and died in Azkaban before I started Hogwarts.  My blood was born bad.  At least, that's what my friendly neighborhood Ministry Supervisor has decided." 

Cináead rolled his eyes, giving the dog's ear a gentle tug.  "Tolerance.  It's just another way of saying complacency.  Accepting the inferior because you lack the spine to do anything but." 

He laughed, loudly and heartily.  Luckily, he regarded his personal appearance with good humor.  "Oh ho ho, them's fighting words, you know."  Cináed stood up straight from the edge of the bar.  "Are you offering?"  Cináed asked with a hearty laugh, twirling the end of one side of his beard around his finger.  "You wouldn't be the first, my darling.  You might have to take a number and stand in line.  There's many a friend or foe who's offered to help lighten my load.  In fact, apparently, I'd earn some brownie points with the Ministry if I gave the stuff to sick muggle kids."  Cináed laughed as he relayed the story to Rocio but there was no doubt he was craving blood when his Supervisor had dared suggest it. 

"I do hope to ..."  For good measure, Cináed took a quick glance around the room.  It'd be just his luck that he'd have a surprise inspection at a most inopportune time.  "... make him pay one day.  I look forward to savoring it."  He had plenty of personal vendettas to take care of, but he couldn't be foolish and spoil it with the first one.  He had to be careful to avoid getting rearrested so he could get to all the individuals on his 'to do' list.

Rocio was a fun woman to be around and Cináed welcomed her company.  Amongst his social group, he was a fairly easy-going and jovial fellow; he was well-known and well-accepted amongst the residents of Knockturn Alley.  Of course, beyond Knockturn was a different story.  But, there were often situations that arose that magnified the differences between himself and Rocio.  "Wow," he said, shaking his head in dismay.  "How nice it'd be to have so many spare house elves that you could just feed them at will to pets.  You have no idea what I'd give for just one of those things.  I find it hard to imagine just disposing of them."  Despite her loss, she still had some distinct privileges and her comments about feeding the snakes only accentuated that. 

Cináed leaned his head back and laughed.  The thought of him in most jobs was, really, a humorous one.  He could just see himself playing the role of greeting wizard at the Ministry or St. Mungos.  Or, asking some first year if they need help finding their schoolbooks at the bookstore.  "Oh.  And what kind of favors are you eluding to, Ms. Adair?"  Cináed asked as he lifted an eyebrow, both curiously and with a hint of schoolboy giddiness.  While, her elaboration still excited him, he feigned disappointment.  "Putting people in their place.  I'm sure I can do that.  I have to be careful about how long I have anything questionable in my presence, though.  I still get inspected regularly.  But, I have my ways."  Oh, yes, he took the remarks about his intimidation as a compliment.  And his amused smirk conveyed it.

She was giddy at the idea of someone else appreciating her snake and watched as Cináed moved over the counter to wash his hands. Her own were clean, she never ate when she took the snake out with her, she knew what a risk it could be. “Sasha, bebe,” she cooed into the bag as her hands reached in and her soft fingers touched his scaly skin. A soft hiss came from the reptile as she took it from right behind the neck and then delved further into the large bag for the tail. He was an Eastern Kingsnake non-venomous and actually immune to the venom of other snakes. He was a beautiful specimen black with evenly spaced silvery-white stripes. Sasha was still quite small though at just about two feet.

His tongue darted out to sniff her and she put him close to Cináed in order for him to be sniffed as well. The customers around her backed away slowly as she offered the snake to the man. “Hold him just like I do, showing no fear. If he senses fear, he may try to constrict. Stay calm and relaxed that is the only way he will stop if he does get loose and start constricting. Firm, but gentle.” She loved the snake, and trusted he would do no harm, but one could never be sure. As soon as Cináed took the snake, she reached for her wand; it never hurt to have it ready – just in case. “Is he not a beauty?”

There were better ways to spend time than watching two piles of bones fight each other. What where they like magical archeologists reconstructing history? No, that actually might have been more interesting. “I suppose I am not really sure as to what exactly I expected. Though, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that anyone would enjoy watching piles of bones.” Perhaps she would bring Cináed any remains from small mammals that she fed her babies. Or the odd set of snake bones. Sometimes her constrictors simply could not help themselves and her house elves did not understand which ones were which.

“They do say that simple minds are easily amused.” There really might not have been a better explanation for the whole fight thing than that. Though the income was probably much needed and Cin did not seem to mind the ruckus. Though what else could one expect at a pub? The people went there to drink and be merry, eat if they were brave enough. It certainly did not look like any of them had any problems with it and in fact the men not involved in the action were just ignoring it. Perhaps Rocio ought to do the same, besides, she had such charming company. “I suppose that the business of men should really not be something for me to worry my pretty little head about anyhow.

She smiled charmingly at Cináed and focused her attention on him and their conversation. She held her glass in one hand, moving the liquid this way and that as she absentmindedly rotated it. She took another drink, contemplating what he said about dogs. She agreed wholeheartedly. She could not stand the things. They were so hairy, and they tended to get that nasty hair all over anything. Not to mention the fact that they easily took on odors and went around creating messes. She was most definitely not a cat or dog person. She would stick to her snakes thank you very much.

Her delicately manicured fingers stroked Sasha’s head that was poking out of the bag from where he had been replaced after being held by Cináed. Sacrifice. The new order and the Ministry did not know what that word meant. They assumed they did, yes, but they were sorely mistaken. A few losses here and there in one battle, that was nothing. The followers of the Dark Lord had lost much more. Their pride, their homes, their lives and for many of them their freedom had been stripped from them in a grisly manner.  The Ministry and its goons would pay one day for causing so much suffering. For now, however, they would have to sit and wait.

“I suppose it helps that we were married at age eighteen. Though one would think it might be held against me that Zachary and I did choose to leave Hogwarts before our seventh year began. Then again, the Ministry was unable to find even a spot on my record, I was fortunate.” Neither of them had been pulled out by their parents, no matter what her father made it look like. Zachary had wanted to join up and she had not only followed him out of Hogwarts, but she lived with him as well. Her own parents would never approve of their daughter cutting her education short and Zachary’s parents had taken her in. They assumed the two would be wed before long anyhow.

Rocio looked up at Cináed and shook her head. “Having a diplomat for a father was useful up to a point. When he abandoned me for having opted to have views rather than keep political nonalignment, I decided it was useless. We travelled around when I was younger, no place to become attached to and no friends really. I might have preferred to stay in one place. Perhaps that is why at Hogwarts I ended up how I did, though I do not regret one day of it. My father most likely expected a Hufflepuff.” She rolled her eyes at the idea and shuddered, how horrible it would have been to have lived in that house of imbeciles. She was far too smart for that.

“ So now being the son of a Death Eater is having bad blood? Hah! If they want to see bad blood why do they look at us? Perhaps they should go look at those mudbloods they love so much. In my veins courses one hundred percent pureblood blue. We are the upper class and it seems they have forgotten that in these troubled times.” She wondered if they labeled the Malfoy scum as having bad blood. Then again, they had opted to become traitors and she had not seen any of them skulking about the Alley after the ex-Azkabaners had started to go free. It seemed they understood that they were not wanted, and were not invited to be part of that society anymore. They could go hug mudbloods.

Cináed was entirely correct. She was angry but she spoke in a calm, collected voice about the situation. “I see no reason why we should need to tolerate them when they cannot seem to tolerate us, even when we are the superior class. Their foolish pride astounds me at times. They call that the end of the war, they cheer and howl about the events every. single. year. We are forced to bide our time at the bottom of society. How I loathe them all.” Rocio tended to be decisive when she hated someone, and she found hatred difficult to hide, despite all her attempts to do so. Thankfully, she was pretty good at not showing her emotions physically, despite what she might be saying.

“I’m positive I could do a thing or two with my wand about your hair, and another time we can take measurements for a whole new wardrobe!” Her voice was laden with sarcasm, and she waved her wand around as though just by her saying this, it might become an incantation and actually happen. “I assume that I would get near that hair at the same time you would get close enough to skin one of my snakes, and I would probably be launching myself at you in anger.” She smirked at him, but was probably right. She really did not think he would let her near his hair or his clothing anytime soon. Even if the change did mean the Ministry might let up on him she did not think he would let her do anything to tarnish his reputation.

He looked around as though she were wearing a tap on her. Did he really think the Ministry would be there, so close to listen to his conversation? Ministry workers tended not to be so discreet, slyness and cunning was a Slytherin trait and any self-respecting Slytherin would know better than to get on the wrong side of Cináed Tawse. Everyone knew what he had gone to Azkaban for, and the odds were that they themselves were blood purists. Even if that was not the case, Slytherins, unlike any other house, had a distinct sense of the need for self-preservation. They would look out for number one before worrying about anyone else. This was probably why most Slytherins tended to stick with careers that did not involve them looking after large numbers of people for prolonged periods of time.

She nodded at his assertion, knowing that he truly would savor the moment. “They will serve us as they rightfully should.” Darkness brewed in her eyes as she spoke of the matter, wishing that their revenge was closer at hand. It was unfortunate that they should have to wait so long to be put back into power. Ten years was roughly what it had taken the Dark Lord to rise again, and his followers had always been loyal. The Wizarding Blood Alliance was much smaller and needed to be much more careful. The Ministry was constantly on guard these days, for any form of suspicious activity. Anything that might be deemed strange could get one put on a surveillance list.

Many of the good purebloods were living lives in cages at the Ministry zoo. They were told how to act how to look and even the proper things to say. Like birds in cages, the Ministry could rattle their bars whenever they wanted, or look into the places they lived and worked, searching every last corner for something incriminating. Even one little piece of evidence that there might have been some form of dark deed against muggle borns and half boods and all of a sudden they were being dragged in and watched even more closely. All they could do now was pace from one end of their cages to the other and bide their time as they licked all of the wounds clean.

She looked at him casually, a blank look on her face. “Would you like one?” The question was blunt, straightforward; there really was no point in beating around any bushes. “A house elf that is. I do have many of them, more than one person would need, and mine breed like rabbits.” A sneer formed on her face at the thought of all the baby house elves that might be around at any given moment. It was utterly disgusting the way they infested the Manor, and while she was accustomed to the silent help, she couldn’t help but wish that they would not produce so many children. Were they really that much at a loss for what to do? Not to mention the fact that her house elves were getting more action than she was. Greaat.

“Well, I supply potions products for my closest friends and would be willing to pay a high price to anyone willing to buy me a lovely clutch of Runespoor eggs from the Black Market – though they are exceedingly difficult to find; I do not like to drag my name about in such manners. The Ministry is already not too pleased with my choice of pets, if I were to be suspected to be at a Black Market trade they would raid the Manor for certain.” She had her own things to hide, and if anyone even assumed that she might have Runespoor eggs that would be the end of her clean slate with the Ministry of Magic, and her clean slate was something she valued for the time being. Perhaps in the future she might change that.

She smiled at him coyly, an idea forming in her mind. She did not think that it would require very much convincing, but she had to play the game carefully, after all, her plan was not entirely thought out yet. “No one could put people in their place like you could.” The simple sight of him approaching would probably make Katz scream in terror, mousy little witch that she was. Cináed looked more unsavory than the man Katz normally associated with, Rocio was sure. Did she not spend time with that pansy Tristisa? The tabloids claimed they spent much time together, and if Akiva called that having someone then she was delusional. Tristisa was no better than a wall, in fact, the wall was probably more interesting as it would talk about other people and not just itself.

Rocio's excitement was quite obvious and it pleased Cináed considerably.  This was, in many ways, the essence of what Cináed sought in this dusty, dark hell-hole of a pub.  It was what amused him about the skeletons going at it in the corner and what had drawn him to join with the early mutterings of the WBA.  In the face of the injustice the Ministry flung at them and the pure humiliation of playing second fiddle to mudbloods and muggles, they could come together and laugh.  Have fun.  Even if it just took watching a dead cat rip the tail off of a dead dog.  Or watching a woman baby talk to a two foot long snake as she put it in his massive hands.

Feeling only slightly foolish, Cináed grasped the reptile behind the head and took hold of the tail.  A small forked tongue flickered out from its crack of a mouth as Cináed lifted it slightly, gazing into one of the dry-looking, scaly eyes.  For its size, the snake was surprisingly strong.  It was quite an attractive creature as well.  But, it did make him feel uneasy.  Cináed wasn't fearful of the thing, but, as the long, thin body draped between his hands, it seemed the creature followed a thin line between strong and delicate.  Not entirely unlike its owner.  It was a rare, and therefore startling moment of insight and Cináed glanced briefly across at the Rocio. 

"Can't exactly lay your head on it in front of the fire, can you?"  Was the comment that actually made it to his mouth from the jumble of thoughts that had been jostling in his head.  Slowly, he reached back across bar and handed the serpent back to Rocio.

"It's not that pathetic," Cináed said, with a laugh as he pointed a finger towards the back corner.  "No, it isn't the high class entertainment some might find out on Diagon, but its better than sitting here just getting drunk.  Granted, it was rather pathetic in the beginning before Chris got a knack for the charms."  The first few dozen matches were ... abysmal.  All the skeletons had were simple, rigid locomotion.  Most of the time, they'd stand in one place and chomp at each other, missing half the time.  And, the cleaning charm was still a little rusty and the bits that stuck in the hard-to-reach places stunk up the whole building. 

"But, they actually seem to show some strategy and tactic.  Like wizard chess pieces gone awol.  Look, you can't go passing judgment on us without watching a match."  It was unlikely being an eyewitness would, actually, change her perspective but it was better than dismissing it sight unseen.  "And, we do find other ways to have fun."  Cináed barked a laugh.  The business of men, indeed.  "I'd hate to see you worry your pretty head over the likes of us." 

It was likely human nature, but there were times when Cináed couldn't help pondering how things would be different if he'd not chosen to lift his wand during that fateful battle.  He'd been a quiet, awkward Slytherin during his school years - still on the strange side, yes.  Had he chosen to stay in the dorms - or even been off playing hookie - he might have had a job at 18.  Or, even, been married.  So many options that didn't include a cold, isolated cell on that horrible island.

He listened quietly to her story, nodding his head at those times that, at least to him, seemed appropriate times.  Her story was certainly more complicated and convoluted then his.  But, the end result was obvious.  She was fortunate.  She was free, of interest to the Ministry but not greatly so and she had her family's money.  Once upon a time, his family had had money.  Most had been confiscated following his father's arrest.  The remainder had been funneled into supporting his mother and sisters as well as paying the fees of whatever legal help they managed to find for his father. 

"A Hufflepuff," Cináed breathed with a combination of amusement and pity.  "I can see he set some high expectations for his child.  It's hard to imagine.  You as a Puffie."  Cináed listened to Rocio's venting, continuing to nod his head.  It was aggravating; so much of what she said was true.  Many of the same thoughts ran through his own head but his venting took a more physical form.  Women seemed to find an abundance of words when they vented - Cináed preferred to find action.  "Blood has no value to these people.  You know that.  We've allowed ourselves to be placed at the same level as mudbloods.  As muggles.  Muggles!  We let them hold us back." 

"It can't be that bad," Cináed said, pushing himself upright from the bar, looking down at the ends of his hair.  Sure, it wasn't the latest fashion but he always felt it fit him well.  It had been some time since he'd seen himself without hair of a significant length but he doubted he'd like the look.  "New wardrobe?  And, what would you have me looking like?  Clean shaven and designer robes?  The newest supermodel?"  He laughed. 

Cináed looked at Rocio, startled by the offer.  "Would I like one?  A house elf?"  Cináed regarded the woman across from him as the idea churned in his head.  His family had a house elf, but Dori served his mother now.  Elf magic was powerful - immensely so and they seemed like such a precious commodity.  He'd never been aware of the creatures breeding prolifically; it seemed Hogwarts would be overrun with them if that were the case.  "Well, I wouldn't want to borrow one.  Who knows what deep dark secrets the bugger might tell you about me.  But, if you are offering to release one to my service - it is tempting." 

"Runespoor eggs?"  Cináed asked, lifting an eyebrow.  "You're asking if I can get you hooked up with some?"  He wasn't quite sure if she was simply remarking on how difficult some supplies were to get or if she was, actually, on the search of a supplier.  He didn't know of anyone off the top of his head, but he could think of a few individuals to ask.  Shady dealings were a common place in the Black Chimaera and there were several people who may be contacts or who might know of contacts.  He certainly couldn't get caught with them, but he could facilitate. 

Cináed lifted the shaker and poured the remainder of the drink into his glass as he listened to her comments.  Of course, he was flattered.  Who wouldn't be?  Somehow he'd come to maintain his reputation without the primary tool of the trade; it was quite an accomplishment.  "Well, yes.  I like to think I have some abilities."  His attention had been piqued; he leaned against the bar.  Of course, this was exactly the type of behavior that stood to get him in trouble but a little excitement was so tempting.  "Are you proposing something, my dear?"

Sasha was behaving quite well, and she was pleased to see this. Had she needed to stop him from hurting Cináed in any manner that was hurtful to her baby she would have been badly shaken afterwards. If it was absolutely necessary there would be no hesitation, but the better her snake behaved, the more she could let it out of the house. She did work at taming them, so she supposed that it should not have been very much of a surprise. It was more of a relief, really. The wand lay still on the table and her baby behaving perfectly, like a little angel.

Of course, it did not seem that Cináed was particularly fond of the creature. “No, I suppose you really cannot do that. Though I have never really attempted to do so, I doubt he would enjoy that.” She took Sasha back and gently laid him back in the bag, though his head continued to stick out, his tongue flicking at the air as he acclimated himself to the surroundings. Soon he would likely coil right back up and return to ignoring their presences. After all, snakes were not overly fond of being disturbed or jostled in any way.

She shook her head and shrugged. Perhaps one had to be a male to understand their desire to watch things fight. Hunting was a completely different matter; the animals did that to survive. The only type of fighting she enjoyed watching was the occasional Quidditch match. They could turn out to be quite exhilarating. She was not sure what exactly she would feel about watching two piles of bones fighting each other, though she could surmise that it would be far from becoming her favorite activity any time soon. “I shall have to take you up on that some other time.”

She thought of informing him that there really was no need to worry at all about her worrying her pretty little head. Then again, she supposed that it was unnecessary to say that she really would not be thinking twice about it once she left the establishment, she would likely even forget that she had said she would watch a match some other time. It was simply how her mind worked, she was used to making empty promises like that to people. Cin would later need to remind her of the matches if he intended on her actually watching one.

“My father would have preferred a child who stayed impartial to the fighting, not someone who took such a strong position on one side or the other.  It did not matter to him which side was chosen, he always would have preferred neutrality.” It was simply what being a diplomat was all about she supposed. They could never choose sides; they had to be friendly with whatever government was in power at the time. If it was a tolerant one then they went with that, if it was a strict purist society then they could go with that too. “What can we do now other than sit and wait?”

She looked him up and down, her head tilting this way and that as she made measurements in her mind. She did design her own clothing line, after all. “The hair I am not quite partial to, but it is your head. As for new robes, it really would not be a problem. I could have you looking much more cleaned up at any rate, even if they were just robes to wear to your Ministry Supervisor meetings. She can think you are changing.” She laughed at that idea, thinking how easy it would be to bamboozle the Ministry into believing one had changed. A hair cut here and some new clothes, and everyone assumed you were a new man or woman.

His surprise was endearing to her and she simply looked at him, her face straight. “I would release one to your service. It would be amusing to watch it separated from the others. I could even give you one of the younger ones; you could whip it into shape however you would like it to act. The older ones might be a bit harder to push to do your bidding.” It really was a good offer she was making him, and she really hoped he would accept. It might fix his problem with needing help.

She would have thought it was fairly obvious that was what she wanted, but perhaps more explanation might be better. “I would love a Runespoor for my collection of snakes. They are highly prized. Two-headed snakes are rare.” She nodded at him and smiled. “If you could find me a supplier that would be lovely, and I would be eternally grateful. Though it would all need to be very hush hush and my name would have to stay out of anything shady.” Those were her only stipulations, and she paid high prices to be kept unmentioned.

“How would you like a new wand?” That was the jumping off point in her proposition to him. She thought that might at least lasso him in. The idea was still forming itself in her mind as she spoke to him, leaning ever closer, though her torso was too short for her to plausibly lean over the bar without standing up on one of the cross bars that kept the stool together. She went as far as she could go, her chin resting on the closed fist of her other hand. She was so excited about the idea that were Cináed to agree to it all she might just kiss him.

As the thought entered her mind she actually began to wonder about doing just that. She moved positions and placed the tip of her thumb in her mouth, her head tilted to one side. Would his beard tickle her face? She really could not be sure. She had never kissed a man with a beard. What about his hair? Did he like it when people ran their hands through it? Or was he opposed to people touching his hair in general? She liked it when people played with her hair, but maybe Cináed was not the same. Maybe we would fear that if anyone were to touch his hair they might cut it.

Seamus' large, cold nose brushed against Cináed's fingers, sniffing at the leftover snake scent on his hands.  Two warm wet spots spread on Cináed's lap as the dog rested its head in his lap,  drool seeping out of the corners of its mouth.  As fascinating as the snake was, Cináed was content with sticking with the dog.  Yes, the animal took up more room than his fair share of, snored horribly and was generally messy and useless but he was a steadfast companion.  That was all he really needed to be. 

Cináed laughed, nodding his head.  "Suit yourself.  But, if you ever start wondering what your missing, feel free to stop by.  I'm sure we're the only place where you can see bone fights."  He didn't really expect that to happen nor was he in any way offended.  He knew of very few people - men or women - who didn't have better things to do with their time.  It just happened that most of those people chose more respectable venues to pass their time. 

"Impartiality is for cowards."  Only those that felt they needed an excuse not to fight considered themselves impartial.  "Or idiots.  And, in the end, it seems impossible to achieve.  No one can be entirely neutral - they may act neutral - they may refuse to help either side, but they aren't really neutral.  They just convince themselves they are to make themselves feel higher.  In the end, the impartial are really only partial to themselves."  It seemed a ridiculous thing to expect for one's child.  "And, really, when you don't do anything you are supporting those in power."

"I have no idea what my father would have expected of me," he admitted.  "Whatever it was, I doubt this was it."  He looked around the interior of the small, dark pub and chuckled.  "Merlin knows my mother doesn't approve.  Last time I saw her she couldn't stop reminding me that she thought kissing up to the Ministry and straightening up might be a good choice."  Most of the time, those comments led to more heated arguments.  His sister would try to intervene which usually ended with Cináed storming out.  He'd only been home to visit twice since his release; in the end, he regretted both visits.  It had been almost a year since he'd been back.

Cináed looked up and shook his head.  There was a lot of sitting and waiting as well as bickering going on in the WBA and it frustrated him considerably.  "We could do more if we tried to work it out.  But, we're too busy pointing fingers at each other to figure out how to work it.  We sit and wait for someone to stand up and tell us what we should do but the moment someone does that, someone gets their knickers twisted out of shape and we break up even more.  That part, we do ourselves.  For some reason, we are content to keep ourselves under control for the bloody Ministry." 

No one in the WBA wanted to give up power or prestige - among their ranks there was no an unquestionable spot open for head honcho.  No one wanted to concede the spot to anyone else.  Cináed certainly understood that feeling; he wanted the power just as much as the next person.  But, they were keeping themselves down at the same time.  They were breaking the bristles to spite the broom.

"I have met many witches who were envious of this hair."  Cináed grinned.  "And, no, the day I walk into the Ministry in bloody designer robes will be the day I ask them to sign me up for community service.  I don't want to give that hag any sense of satisfaction - if anything, I'd rather go in wearing Death Eater robes just to rub it in her troll's face that she's failed."  He'd give nothing to that woman.  Nothing she wanted, at least.

"If you're offering, I could use a house elf around here.  It'd help when the hired help decides not to show up and might give some people the impression I have class."  He grinned and nodded his head.  "At least, those that don't know me already.  And, I'll see what I can do about suppliers.  I can't make any promises, but I might be able to call out a few favors." 

The proposal of a new wand intrigued Cináed and his eyebrows lifted.  If it was even possible, Rocio appeared even more excited than she had been when she'd handed him the snake.  She was leaning across the bar towards him, watching him with a strange new intensity that he attributed to her anticipation of his answer.  Of course, it was a rather risky proposition - getting caught with a wand would create a whole new world of trouble.  Even more so if he used the thing.  Which, chances were slim that he'd come in possession of a wand again and not use it. 

But, on the other side, there was an unquestionable prestige that came with being a wandless ex-Azzie who'd won a new wand.  And, if Cináed was following her thoughts right, this would be a wand off of a Ministry official.  An added bonus.  It was, very tempting.  He ran a hand over his chin as he considered it but, even as he did, a broad, mischievous grin settled on his face.  "What exactly are you wanting," he asked, slowly, nodding his head as he did.  "You want her dead?  Shaken up?"

There was no disputing his statement about impartiality being for cowards, this was very true. “The impartial are simply waiting to see who will come out victorious. Then their impartiality flies out the window with the next owl. They do not want to have beliefs so that they do not ever have to be wrong.” She rolled her eyes at the matter and took a slow sip of her drink, savoring the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat. It was a welcome feeling when such matters were discussed, which may also have been why all of the WBA were so touchy. Brilliant idea, let’s meet in a pub. Drinking and politics always ends in disagreements.

She rolled her eyes and huffed softly. “Who needs parental approval anymore? We are both adults, they simply do not like the fact that we no longer need them.” At least, her parents probably did not. She was unsure what Cin’s family was like though she assumed that most parents were the same. As soon as they saw that their children were growing up they stopped liking the idea and stopped feeling useful. What they needed was reassuring every now and again that they were still usefull by allowing them to mettle.

“Knowing who to follow is not an easy decision.” She spoke somberly, her eyes refusing to budge from the smudge on a glass behind Cináed’s head. “Look what happened to our predecessors, simply because of who they chose to follow. No one wants to make the same mistake a second time around.” They had already lost enough, had they not? They were all separated and what small rag tag group dared get together was still busy sitting around and licking each other’s wounds. Next thing they knew they would have group therapy circles where people could talk about what they had lost to that scam of a wizard, Voldemort. How terribly droll of an idea.

No one was content under Ministry rule, however, and Cin knew that just as well as she did. If they had ever discriminated against muggleborns they were now being paid for it in full coin of the crown. They were being discriminated against as well and it seemed the Ministry had learned no lessons from history. An oppressed people are simply looking for the time to revolt. After all, every country could use some revolution now and again, and England was stuck in it’s muggle loving ways. Something had to be done.

There was a certain oddness to Rocio and her membership in the WBA. She was tiny, a little, breakable thing. The idea that she might commit any form of muggle bashing where they would possibly be able to physically overpower her were small, though it should be mentioned that she was not truly bothered by this fact. She liked to consider herself more brains than brawn - which was certainly true. As such she generally liked to send others to do her dirty work for her and was willing to compensate highly for their services as hired thugs. There was no need to get her own hands dirty, after all.

This also generally meant that she had no designs on any position of power within the WBA. There were others that those positions could go to, people who had more prestige and experience. She was pleased to be part of a group that understood and continued to fight the good fight to keep the Wizarding World for the purebloods, but she also knew that any pretension on her part would be unwelcome. As had been clarified to her many times, she did not fight and so had no business being in charge. As such she simply sat by and watched, which was even more dangerous. As soon as a likely leader cropped up she would easily slide in and support them. For now, however, there was no one.

She supposed the hair was alright, shiny if not wholly clean, though the clothes could use an upgrade. “Are you insinuating that I would make you look anything less than terrifying?” She could not help but arch an eyebrow at that, a smirk playing at her lips. “Designer does not have to mean pretty, simply better looking. Besides, they would be Rocio originals one set only, made to order.” Her eyes swept him over, nothing too good-looking certainly not just less... grungy. It would only be a small improvement and the Ministry had to understand that people were bound to buy new robes someday. Besides, a very select few Ministry Officials would even be able to recognize that the robes were designer at all.

There was a faint pallor to her cheeks as he mentioned Death Eater’s robes, but she gave a small ‘ha’ at the idea and shook her head. The idea that anyone dressed in Death Eater robes would be allowed to enter the Ministry anytime soon was a ridiculous one at best, though an interesting image. “You might want to wait until Halloween for that one, tell them you are getting into the muggle spirit.” She smiled smugly at the idea. Yes, the muggle spirit indeed.

She nodded at him, almost sighing exasperatedly. If she was not offering would the topic even have come out into the open? She did not think so. Not at all. So he was either being smart or he truly did not understand where she was coming from. “Of course I am offering. I shall see that it is all settled and that the house elf will arrive here tomorrow.” It was that easy, really he could have asked. It would have saved her the trouble of offering and she really did have more than enough to spare. She was only one person, after all. The matter settled, she took a sip of her vodka, spinning the glass slowly on the counter with her fingers.

The idea of his calling in favors pleased her greatly. She would owe him greatly if he could do so and she assumed that he might have more favors to call in from such people than she would. Of course if there was a nasty potion or venom needed... the tables would surely be turned in her favor. “I would be most grateful for that.” She reached out and placed her own small hand on his in an odd gesture of amiability before quickly withdrawing it again. 

She was pleased that he liked the idea that she had set forth and when she saw his eyebrows lift, she leaned in closer to him, not wanting to disclose plans to the room at large. One never knew who might or might not actually be a Ministry spy. They were probably all over the Chimaera like dementors on happy. Though Rocio had to admit, being the prey might be as exhilarating as being the hunter. She simply hoped that she would never have to test that theory. Perhaps Cináed would be kind enough to inform her if she was correct. Though she supposed that simply being watched was not quite the same thing.

“At least shaken up, though I will leave the details up to you so long as you tell me all about it afterwards.” She waved her hand airily, caring little for the plans that he would set in motion, only caring that the result be an Akiva Katz not willing to step one toe out of her little circle of protection. Rocio wanted her to suffer, yes, suffer like she had probably never suffered before. The twit deserved it for acting the way she had and doing what she had done, an encounter with Rocio Adair was not to be taken lightly. She may have been tiny on the outside, but she had friends, friends who would love to set a muggleborn in her place. She smirked broadly at him, “And of course the wand will be yours, you will win it off her after all.”

Cináed chuckled, nodding his head as he chewed on his thumbnail.  Impartiality was, either, the cowardice sniffling of idiots or a privilege to those that faced a world without challenges or animosity.  Considering that, as far as Cináed knew, there were few who fit into the latter, most were the former.  Even as a teenager, he'd understood that and had acted on it.  He had never been a Death Eater; the dark mark had never graced his skin.  He had been too young during the Dark Lord's last rise to power but when the conflict come to school, he hadn't hid behind the safety of impartiality; he hadn't sneaked out with the rest of the students.  He'd grabbed his wand and chosen a side.  And lost his freedom. 

Cináed spun his empty glass slowly in his hand.  "Isn't that hypocritical?"  Cinaed asked.  Though he was speaking of a topic he was quite critical of, there was no critical tone to his voice.  She was right; that's what they were all doing.  It wasn't she he questioning.  "I know that's what's going on but isn't that that same impartiality?  We didn't even decide the last time around.  If we don't decide, we run the risk of someone, again, making the decision for us.  It's ... nevermind."  The shot glass gave a slight clunk as he set it on the bar.  He'd lost a lot their predecessor's last attempt at power.  His father - his freedom.  The idea that he might find himself loosing what he had left following some inferior wizard left a rancid taste in his mouth.

But, there was only so much thought and talking of politics he could take.  It was a necessity, of course but despite the restrictions placed upon him, he was determined to enjoy life as much as he could.  It seemed as much a part of his rebellion as his involvement in the WBA. 

"I don't know what you'd make me look like, my dear," he said, arching his eyebrows in response to her smirk.  "You think terrifying is the look I'm going for?  I'm not -"  He looked down at himself, tugging at the edges of his scuffed cloak.  On some level, that was, probably, part of it.  Imposing was what he thought it was.  "I'm not sure who I'd be looking to impress.  But," he pursed his lips and considered the woman opposite him.  It would be interesting to see what a designer would make of him.  "Hair's off limits.  But, if you think you can make an improvement, I'm brave enough to see what you'd come up with." 

With a shake of his head, Cinaed reassured Rocio that he didn't intend on wearing Death Eater robes anytime soon.  "Well.  A house elf.  That will make it easier.  I am indebted to you for the help."  He watched the woman opposite him twirl her glass but surprise made his brow wrinkle slightly as he watched her hand settle on his.  It hadn't been an expected gesture and, as she drew her hand back, an amused grin flickered at the corners of his mouth.  "Is that what it takes to delight women these days.  Offer to take care of Ministry officials and runespoor eggs?" 

"I'm sure I can handle this mudblood," he said in rough whisper, still leaning towards her across the bar.  "It'd be my pleasure."  He preferred to enter such activities without a solid plan.  He'd much rather improvise as the situation dictated.  "I'll be sure to tell you all about it when we are finished."  To have a wand again.  The idea was almost exciting enough to make him giddy.  He returned her smirk. 

Their little shindig at the Shodding Arms had found Nate and Daz sleeping the whole next day through; after escorting Effie home they'd spent the rest of the time between liesurely but for tonight.  Daz was all honkered up on a betel nut chew for her Saturday escapades, fitted with richly red lipstick to cover the stains on her lips from her favorite pick-me-up (the occasional staining was still just red and she liked to ignore Nate when he warned her of black-stained teeth down the road).

She'd perused the Diagon shops near the five o'clock hour but was hard-pressed to find any likely prospects and, at any rate, was rather restless and had some items to get to people.  So she spent the next few hours apparating this way and that, dropping in on her brother and delivering goods to thankful clients.  By the time she approached the Black Chimaera, however, her bag was just as full as before -- only with different sorts of goodies and mostly in the form of coins.  It was nice to get some work done at the end of their lazy day but because of the trend of easiness she was ready to sit down in good company again.  It'd take her a day or two more, she thought, to fully recover from the intoxicated stupor of Thursday night.

As she entered the pub heads turned, though she rested her eyes on nothing but the back of Ro's head, walking straight toward her target.  Rocio and Cinaed were both chumming about tonight.  Daz's pleasure in this fact was evident in her sudden springy step as she drew nearer, donning a smile.  She laughed a bit, registering their faces, and set down her bag and her self as well. 

"It's the family reunion," she said.  "I remember youse guys from when we got all bloody banjaxed and made absolute arses of ourselves oh -- forty-eight hours ago?"  She was feeling chipper and a bit supercharged from the betel; as her closest knew, stimulants and Dazmond were a frightfully energetic mix.  She popped up, saying "hugs," and embraced Rocio before leaning over the bar toward Cinaed.  "You too, ye big bear."  She pecked him on the cheek before sitting back down in her chair.

"Sorry I'm wired I know," she said.  "I'll try and breathe a bit."  And by that she meant she was going to have a cigarette.  Dazmond had, it seemed, finally given in to Nathan's bate of play.  The after-effects of the Remembrance weeks were for some reason lost in a sea of alcohol and herbal delirients.  She was possibly trying to erase the residual confusion over her side having lost the war when she never understood truly what it meant to be on her side anyway.  She wasn't naive and she had been raised with all the best arguments for purity that there ever were (her father being who he was); yet it just left a bad taste in her mouth knowing a Witch was a Witch and the case for whether they deserved to exist or not really depended more on their brain capacity than their heritage. 

"What sort of foolery are you two lovebirds cooking up?" she asked, settling in.