10:45 PM

She had been cautioned to leave work in a timely manner. She had also been cautioned to avoid being anywhere alone, even just outside her door.  The women in the library were superstitious and told her to make sure that she floo-d home and didn’t stop anywhere else, especially after she had walked under that ladder early in the day.  They had insisted on reading her cards, just to make sure, and had warned of something menacing.  The blonde had very little patience for such things, however, and simply rolled her eyes at them, shrugging off their superstitious warnings with good natured jokes and reprimands about their silliness.  There was no possible way that walking under a ladder and some silly cards could determine an oncoming tragedy.  They sounded just like Trelawney sometimes…

It was the first Friday night in a long time that she couldn’t be with her parents in a while as well.  She had sacrificed the evening so that the rest of the library women could have their monthly Snap Dragon game (some sort of weird card game), and though they warned her about getting home and not dawdling, she was hungry.  It was later in the evening so she didn’t want to go bother her parents who worked all week, nor did she want to possibly disrupt anyone else after a long week or work, there were definitely people out anyway – it was Friday night! 

There was a small café by her building anyway and all she wanted was something to munch on and a green tea to relax.  A muffin actually sounded quite pleasing to the tired blonde and from the ministry, she made her way toward home.  After taking a very short metro ride, she emerged a few streets from home, heading toward her destination, she took a deep breath and smiled, glad to be out of work and ready to relax before a relaxing Saturday.  She was going to meet her parents for the morning service and then have lunch with them and go out that night. It was going to be a good reward after a week of hard work.

Walking into the little coffee shop, she looked up at the menu and toward the display cases, finally deciding on what she wanted: a white chocolate and raspberry muffin with vanilla chai tea.  Obtaining the desired sustenance and taking it to a small table by the door, Akiva sat down to enjoy.

Cinaed gave the strap of the absolutely humiliating plaid apron a frustrated tug before rolling his eyes.  As if he really needed any more proof of the idiocy and weakness and pathetic nature of muggles.  How did teenage kids of any ilk voluntarily dress in these nasty things for the little spare coins their customers chose to fling at them?  If Cinaed had to remain at such a job like this for too long, he'd probably go hunting for a wand to curse his own self out of misery. 

Perhaps this accounted for the brief moment of excited confusion that had crossed the teenage muggle boy's face when Cinaed had intercepted him.  The boy was so starved for worthwhile stimulation that even the prospects of getting cornered by the likes of Cinaed actually brightened his day.  Or, perhaps, Cinaed was projecting his own excitement on the boy. 

He'd been planning this little rendezvous for months - ever since Rocio had presented him with the task.  Now, for several weeks, he'd been tailing Akiva Katz and, finally, the day and the opportunity had presented itself.  And, really, with luck, Cinaed would only have to impersonate this poor, bored muggle lad for a few hours. 

Finally, after several hours of listening to muggle complain about his less than acceptable cups of coffee. That poor lad (Jason White according to the name tag) would probably find himself jobless if he were to actually be allowed to return to society.  Finally, after several hours of waiting, the mudblood had finally decided to show. 

She ordered some fancy drink and Cinaed had set to making it. A little brewed chai, a little steamed milk, just a slight drop of a carefully concocted mixture of acromantula venom to, slowly, send her to sleep, (Cinaed would have to be sure to thank Kingstreet - if it weren't for her generous lease rates, he would never have been able to afford it), some hellibore to keep her calm and peaceful as the venom took effect and just enough powdered lovage to muddy the mind a little.  It was a homemade concoction - he'd tested it on a mouse or two but, well, if it just turned out to poison her - or he had used too much venom and it digested her as well as put her to sleep - well, Rocio would have to live with the fact that Cinaed didn't have to opportunity to frighten the mudblood.

Cinaed returned to the boy's duties, keeping a close eye on Katz, ready to slip out of the cafe and follow her back to her place where it'd just be a matter of time before she fell asleep.

Akiva had attempted to be pleasant with the boy who was serving her, but he appeared to have more teenage angst than he knew what to do with and just sneered when she ordered and busied himself with making her drink and getting her food.  She wasn’t particularly impressed with his skills behind the counter when she took a sip of her drink, but had tipped him anyway (he needed to make a living) and took her seat to enjoy herself.

Glancing over to the counter, she sighed, wondering what made a kid so miserable.  After all, the job wasn’t that bad.  Sure, he was fairly bad at it, but he was making a living doing nothing but making drinks – and he wasn’t even nice while doing it!  After chewing on the slightly dry muffin, she took another sip of her drink, looking at it with scrutinizing eyes.  It didn’t taste like it usually did.  She attributed this to his lack of skill behind the counter and sighed, shrugging her shoulders.  She had paid for it, so she had to drink it. 

Feeling a yawn come on, she raised her hand to her mouth and covered her mouth.  She hadn’t realized how tired she was!  When she finished with her muffin, she threw out the wrapper and picked up the cup.  Exiting the little shop, it was only a few blocks to the apartment and she really wanted to get to bed.  Unfortunately, with every step she took she seemed to get a little more tired.  She’d take another sip of tea, in hopes of waking herself up, but it was to no avail.

By the time she actually reached her building, she could hardly keep her eyes open.  Fumbling around for her key, she finally found it, only to drop her purse as she removed the little object.  Yawning again, she leaned down to pick it up but had to use the wall for support.  Dipping down, she leaned her head against the wall and yawned before kneeling on the ground.  “What is going on?” she asked herself, dropping the now empty cup on the ground.   

She felt around as her eyes opened and shut, grasping the key in her hand.  She could hear Lady behind the door, scratching and yipping. "I just need a second..." she yawned again, her eyes closing for what she anticipated would only be a few seconds, but she slipped off to sleep in front of her door.

Oh thank the bloody Morrigan, Cinaed thought to himself as Katz finally pushed herself to her feet and made for the door.  He wasn't sure how much more of the frothing milk and listening to customers complain about the wrong type of milk in their drinks.  Really?  Were muggles really that bored with their lives? He could have sworn if he had to listen to one more gripe about using whole milk and them getting fat, he was going to sock one of them. 

"Latte with soy, please," Cinaed could hear the suited woman in front of him say, but his attention was fully fixed on the head of curls that had passed through the door.  "Excuse me.  Did you hear me?"  Cinaed heard the woman say and then ... she snapped her fingers?  This muggle woman just snapped her fingers at him like he was some sort of servant? 

Despite the comments he might receive from the likes of Adair and his Ministry Super, there were no doubts during times like these that Cinaed was well aware of the benefits his appearance held.  He was sure, leaning across the counter towards the uptight muggle, looking like the scrawny, pimple-faced teen was hardly as satisfying as it could have been otherwise.  But, the woman still seemed surprised and slightly unnerved.  A wave of dumbfounded shock had rippled through the boy's coworkers.  "Snap your fingers at me again and you'll get them back as a garnish on your bloody scone.  Got it?  Out of the way, you bloody wench."  With great satisfaction, he rugged the apron off of him and slipped over the counter. 

"Jason, where are you..." one of the coworkers asked, tentatively.  But, with an obscene gesture towards them all, Cinaed slipped out of the coffee shop and followed the path towards Katz' building.  He had, perhaps, another fifteen minutes before the polyjuice would wear off.

The potion hadn't taken full effect yet, by the time Cinaed had finally caught up to her.  Though she was slumped against the front door of her building, her eyes continued to flutter open.  "Oh.  My sister's gone and drunk too much again," Cinaed told a passerby as he made his way towards Katz' door.  "She does this when she and her boyfriend have been fighting."  By the time Cinaed knelt down in front of Katz, thin whips of curly hair settled around his face, the first sign the polyjuice was wearing off. 

"Good evening," he said, quietly, reaching out to slap her cheek.  Whether she was fully asleep or not was irrelevant.  With the effects of the polyjuice wearing off, they needed to move now.  Cinaed looked over his shoulder as he heard footsteps.  A woman and child were moving up the walkway.  The effects of the polyjuice were, obviously beginning to fade on both of them.  "Take her to your place, Chris," he said to the child.  "Mannie and I will follow shortly."  The child - now halfway between the form of a child and a tall, curly-haired man, tugged out a wand and took hold of the woman's wrist.  With a sharp crack the two disapparated. 

---

Cinaed had to wonder whether Mannie had any idea how close he was to getting knocked out.  Did he really think Cinaed enjoyed using a bloody muggle car for transportation any more than he did?  But, their options were limited.  Colburn had been the only one of them with a wand, so he was the only one who could apparate the woman away.  He and Mannie couldn't use any form of transportation that would leave traces - magical or otherwise.  Which meant, floo network was out of the question.  Portkeys were out of the question.  They had no wands so disillusioning themselves wasn't possible so flying off on brooms from Katz' front yard in a muggle street would only sound the alarms.  But, Mannie would't quite complaining.

Though, at first, Cinaed had been relieved to be free of car and complaints, it soon became evident that watching hostages sleep was far less exciting than one might expect.  And, unfortunately, he had no way of knowing how long the potion would last.  It had already been thrity-six hours and, other than knowing the woman was still, in fact, breathing, when (or if) she'd wake up was a mystery.  Cinaed sat, in a chair opposite the watching.  Despite how boring it was, he wanted to make sure that if she woke, him sitting, twirling her wand was the first thing she saw.

Everything was very fuzzy for Miss Katz after she slumped on the ground.  Her eyes tried to wiggle open even just a little, but she was exhausted.  She heard a voice, though it was not recognizable.  Trying to look up, her head lolled to the side and she groaned, unable to keep her head up or stay awake for more than a few seconds.  She could not make out the figure that she saw in front of her with those bleary eyes, nor could she really hear the words being said, even if they were to her. 

Detecting something about drunk, sister, and a muddle of words she did not understand, Akiva attempted to look up again.  A moment of clarity let her see an unrecognizable young man’s face, but it drifted away quickly as her eyes closed again and the memory was lost as she once again drifted off.  Though she tried to fight it, it was impossible and she could detect no reason why her exhaustion was so great or her why anyone would be coming up to her. 

She did feel the sensation of being hit on the cheek though and a tired yelp of shock was the only sound she could manage to make.  An attempt to move was greeted by the heavy limbs that were impossible to move – it felt like her entire body was filled with lead, to lift a finger took every ounce of energy she had.  She was powerless to do anything about it and couldn’t find the energy to even panic.  The last large movement she had made was only caused by the energy exerted upon her cheek.  After that point, she drifted off while her skin still stung from the touch.

The sleep she fell into was the deepest she had ever experienced.  There were no dreams to entertain her either, just a black hole of nothingness.  The passage of time was unknowable to the young woman and in this heavy slumber, she did not detect that she had been moved at all nor who had done it.  For as much as she could have been aware, she was deeply impacted by the potion which removed her ability to reason or wake up.  The sleep that felt like five minutes was in reality for more than a day, and when she finally felt like she was coming out of it, the first sensation she felt was a pounding headache.

Her eyes fluttered open and her first thought was she had no idea where she was.  The floor under her was cold and hard, her body ached and her head was in so much pain.  Her arms were still weak and she couldn’t push herself up.  Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she didn’t need to turn much to see what greeted her.  First, she saw the heavy boots and her eyes travelled upward quickly in reaction, no idea what was going on.  Her eyes sought the face of the man with the boots and she saw the most menacing face she had ever seen, cold and hard with something twirling in his hand.  When she finally got a chance to look at it, she realized it was her own wand.

Instantly seized with the urge to scream, her mouth opened but no sound came out.  Her mouth and throat were completely dry and the strangled sound that emitted from her lips could not have even woken up the lightest sleeper in the world.  It was like a nightmare in which one couldn’t scream and in the pit of her stomach, she really hoped this was the first dream she was having, no matter how terrifying it was.  She tried to reach back and feel for the wand in her pocket, but when she glanced back, she saw her purse ripped open, its contents all over the floor – her wand was definitely in his hands.  Between the ache of her body, the pounding in her head, and the panic she was feeling in her chest and stomach, the woman tried to push herself up, breathing heavily and feeling that she might have been crying had she any spare hydration in her body for such a thing. 

She tried to scream again, but it was impossible, "What's going on?" she asked in a rasping voice, filled with panic, "Who are you?  What is this? Where am I?" once she could speak, it poured from her mouth like a pitcher into a basin.  She felt feverish and she could have thrown up, had there been anything to actually bring up.

Finally.  Katz was coming around.  Still, of course, taking her dear sweet time about it.  It was a shame he didn't know if that particular concoction of his had an antidote - it would have sped things up considerably.  As she turned her head to look at him, a long, thin, cold smile spread across his lips and he winked at her.  "Morning, dear," he said, flatly, sliding the Katz woman's wand behind his ear. 

Lazily, he reclined back in his chair and took a half-eaten sandwich from a plate on the table next to him.  "Fabulous meat, pastrami," he said, conversationally as he took a bite.  "Especially with some sweet and spicy mustard - doesn't get much better,"  he continued, his mouth half full of sandwich. 

"Go right ahead," Cinaed said, as Katz opened her mouth in a clear attempt to scream.  He took another bite from the sandwich, lazily chewing it, the act of eating the sandwich taking clear precedence over the woman's predicament and the conversation at hand. "Scream all you want.  Might as well convince yourself now it's useless before the venom wears off completely.  It would really save us from having to waste too many headache potions."  He shoved the last of the sandwich in his mouth before picking up the glass of juice.  "Just so you know, there are protective charms on the building and we're a good mile and a half from a road.  Screaming would just give you a sore throat and irritate us."

He downed half the glass of juice as the myriad of questions spewed from the woman.  He smacked his lips contently.  "Well, I'm having a spot of lunch and your body is flushing out the acromantula venom.  I suspect that's the only thing lingering.  Who I am is, really, irrelevant.  Just ... well ... consider me a concerned citizen.  One who's just grown weary of those who insist upon stepping out of their place.  This, is a room.  In a house."

He gave her a pleasant grin and took another drink of his juice.  It was times like these when one began to understand why cats insisted on playing with their quarry before dispatching and consuming them.  "And, in the long run, where you are is a rather irrelevant question as well.  It's not like the answer will do you much good."  Pushing himself out of his seat, Cinaed crossed the room to Katz and stood over her, regarding her for a moment before draining the rest of the glass of juice. 

She couldn’t really process the fact that he was talking about food at the moment.  In fact, it downright made her sick to her stomach.  Of course, even the looks of a sandwich, even in his hands, made her stomach start to grumble.  She realized she must have been asleep for quite some time.  She was so tired still and her head hurt and her mouth was dry, everything was in pain.  Her body must have been surviving on itself at this point.  She licked her lips, clearly attempting to create some moisture on her lips, but it was to no avail, there was nothing there to draw from, not even the smallest reserve.  She couldn’t even cry though she felt like she wanted to, desperately. 

“Us?” she asked dumbly, looking around as though she might see another soul in the room.  She was, unfortunately alone with this character, however, and looked back to him.  He was not going to answer her and she had no idea what he wanted with her.  He knew she was a witch, that was clear enough, though she did not know how – she didn’t know him.  If she had, she was sure she would have recognized him.  That thick hair and those menacing eyes; it would have struck her immediately, but she got nothing when she looked at him except an acute sense of terror.  No memories of even bumping into him, unfortunately, so she could not place one reason as to why this would be happening.

Sitting down as she could no longer hold her own weight on her hands and knees, the blonde used her hands to cradle her pounding head.  Venom?  How had she been poisoned?  What had happened to her?  The last thing she remembered was dropping her tea… Her tea!  But that was impossible, she thought, a muggle teenager had made that tea.  There was no way that could have happened.  She had no idea where this came from and why, and though the light bothered her eyes and made little specks of color dance around in her vision, she wanted to look at him and see what on Earth was going on with his face.  There was no sympathy at all written across his features, he appeared pleased at himself and as though he was doing something alright.

She did not understand the warning he afforded her, the indication that he was a concerned citizen, that someone was overstepping her place.  She did not know she had a place and couldn’t fathom that someone would honestly and sincerely think that way.  It didn’t even process in her mind what boundary she had overstepped.  It was 2008, not the nineties, what was he talking about?  “What do you want with me?” she looked up at him, ignoring his hold on questions and wondering why he was playing with her like this.  She was a person, not some kind of animal.  “Why did you take me here?” she squeaked with some indication that she was angry floating in her voice. 

He barked, a single loud, harsh bark.  Of course, he had to give some benefit of the doubt; the traces of venom were probably contributing to her less than intelligent question.  He doubted it accounted for all of it, though.  "Yes.  Us.  You really think it's just you and me?" he asked, shaking his head.  "But, they aren't in the room.  Really.  How many do you think it takes to watch a drugged, unarmed mudblood?"  He let the word unarmed and mudblood linger on his tongue.  "So, what is it?" he asked, tugging the wand from behind his ear and gazing at it curiously.  "How long have you had it?"   

She was trying to get up, but by the looks of it, her body wasn't quite ready for that.  "Paralysis is, apparently, an unfortunate side effect of spider venom.  I suspect it should wear off soon.  If we're lucky, completely.  I am pleased to see that it didn't digest you.  That could have been messy."  But, that's one of the many reasons she was brought to Colburn's house rather than Cinaed's. 

Cinaed crossed the room back to his seat and lowered himself back in it.  He tugged out a cigarette and lit it with Katz' wand.  The question she posed was a good one - what was he going to do with her now?  He had her wand - did he just shake her up and toss her out?  Really, where was the fun in that?  Not to mention, he couldn't afford to just let her go.  She'd finger him faster than a niffler could inhale a ring. 

"Well, nothing directly," Cinaed answered, truthfully.  He didn't necessarily want anything with her, specifically.  Perhaps that was cruel - making her aware that all of this had been done for nothing important.  "I couldn't care less about you; it was purely a business deal, my dear.  Plus, your wand was a nice perk." 

He leaned his head against the back of the chair and tapped his foot to the beat of an unheard tune.  "But, you do bring up a good question.  What to do with you now.  Any suggestions?"  Without dropping his head back down or otherwise moving, he gazed down at the woman and grinned coyly at her.  "What is one supposed to do with a filthy, stray mudblood?  I suppose, if I had faith in whether they were trainable enough to learn their proper place, it'd be possible to consider releasing them.  But, I have little of that faith."

Drugged… unarmed… mudblood.  Her stomach churned agitatedly at the use of a word she had not been in the presence of for ten years.  She had received that insult quite a few times in her days at school, but after the fall of Voldemort it wasn’t something she had really come across since.  It happened once or twice, of course, but the viciousness in his voice and the way he treated her like she was some sort of half-human creature, unworthy of the courtesy of fairness or consideration.  That term was inhuman and people had died because of the dehumanization it created – that thought gripped her throat for a moment.

Anxiety filled her and looking around, she realized she had no idea how she would get her wand back at all, if she could, and if she did – could she even apparate out?  She didn’t fathom she had the strength to do it, and he had said there were spells all over the house… Looking at him with an expression akin to the blank stare of a doe in bright headlights, Akiva looked at the light piece of wood between his fingers and tried to process his question despite the racing thoughts.  She instantly realized it was probably best not to anger him unnecessarily and keeping him waiting was probably less intelligent than all of her questions. “My wand? S-s-seventeen years…” her voice quivered with anxiety and she tried to get up on her knees, but quaked and fell.

Whatever he had used was strong, and apparently caused paralysis.  Her face tensed as she gritted her teeth, frustrated and frightened.  Her fists balled up, she could feel her nails digging into her palm, perhaps a desperate attempt to be able to cry, but no tears poured forth.  It was so dry!  She looked to the relaxed captor and felt disdain and nausea.  He didn’t even know what he wanted with her – what kind of business was this?  “What business of yours am I?” she questioned with a barb of insolence toning her voice.  She was upset and clearly feeling the effects of the potion lingering in her body.

He considered the options of what to do with her, teasing by asking her what she wanted him to do with her.  Of course, just what she wanted was to be let go – returned to her home.  Her family must have been… she couldn’t even imagine what they were doing, probably reporting her absence to the authorities – and here she was, dazed and pained from a poisoning and kidnapping.  Images of her family played in her head and she suddenly felt so terrible as she realized what they were going through – what she was going through!  It was far too much to handle on top of being confined to a small room with the scariest example of a human (she assumed he was human, at least – though yeti was a good next choice) she had ever set eyes upon. 

“Let me go!” she managed to say with as much force as she could muster before dissolving into a pitiful mess on the floor.  “Please… let me go,” she collapsed in a fit of anxious, dry sobs.  Somehow, she felt he would have no sympathy for her, but it was the only thing she could do. She was still so weak and overpowering him was out of the question, especially when he had her wand.

It was remarkable the types of responses a single word could generate in people.  Language was peculiar that way.  They were, after all, merely letters jumbled together and, if rearranged and offered in different contexts could be downright comical or just peculiar.  Loud mob.  Seemed like something out of one of those goofy monster stories but rearrange the letters and add an extra "d" and they took on a whole new meaning.  Power, social rank, cultural order.  Mudblood.  It was symbolic.  Descriptive.  And by the association of years and years of violence had made it its own weapon.  It even had a little bit of poetic inner rhyme going on.  Sheer beauty - like the awe-inspiring beauty of a lion taking down its prey.

An interesting philosophical thought.  Cinaed probably would have been content to let the inner pensive monologue continue but he'd noticed Katz' gaze settle on the wand.  His expression hardened and his fingers tightened around the wand in his hand, lifting it a fraction of an inch.  As his fingers pressed into the smooth wood, he felt that surge of power and excitement that came from being reunited with ones weapon of choice.  And in the presence of a poor, helpless, unarmed mudblood.  The tables had been turned and it was a better buzz then the strongest drink he served in his pub.  He pointed the wand at the woman.

He kept the wand trained on her for several still breaths before speaking, his tone mockingly conversational compared to the intensity of the threatening gesture.  "Seventeen years is a long time.  You must have known each other well.  I've always been curious.  Does it feel like a betrayal?  Like a best friend has turned their back on you when it's taken and used against you?  I never found out; mine was simply broken.  What is it's core?  I'd imagine unicorn hair - seems those quaint little creatures are probably best suited to mudbloods." 

"You're all of our's business," Cinead answered, a trace of impatience in his voice.  If these subwizard beings were going to drag down the quality of the wizarding world, they might at least have the decency to realize they were doing it.  Sure, Cinaed had done some less than socially acceptable things in his time but he'd at least he granted his victims the decency of acknowledging the crimes he'd committed.  "You come in, you muddy our world and prance around in it like you belong here.  You degrade us with every ounce of your presence and then act like surprised, pathetic little victims when asked by your superiors to acknowledge your place in society.  The damage you and your mudblood-producing muggle parents commit to my world is my business." 

He pushed himself to his feet and opened the door out into a dark hallway.  "Mannie!  Our guest is awake," he called out into the hallway.  There was a muttered response from somewhere down below and Cinaed shut the door, turning back to his quarry.

"I suspected you'd say that," Cinaed admitted.  It was almost cliche.  The pathetic little half sobbing plea to be let loose.  Cinaed could vaguely remember issuing that same plea during so many of those first long cold nights in that cell in Azkaban.   No one had even bothered to listen to him there and the feeble boyish pleas faded by the end of his first year in that place.  She should count herself lucky.  Her sobs found no sympathy in him.   "But, there's a problem with that plan.  I have no desire to return to Azkaban.  And, really.  This room has to be much more comfortable for you than a cell would be for me.  You do understand, I'm sure."

Her ability to speak faltered as the tip of the wand was turned upon her.  A tool she used for years, something she kept at her side for as long as she could remember and used in the course of a day more times than she could count was now poised and ready to do whatever work this monster had planned for her.  She was not sure how willing her wand would be to work in the hands of a man who had nothing even remotely resembling an ounce of goodness inside of him.  She had been told that her wand was for those with a pure heart – his was marred with sin and soaked with mire, she prayed it would not work against her. 

It did feel like an old friend was standing there, waiting to throw down whatever punishment was to be laid, but she did not give him the satisfaction of knowing.  Her jaw set and she glared at him, dark eyes poised upon his forehead (she was still intimidated to look at him in the eyes).  Without giving him an answer, she turned her head away, down toward the floor in a sad attempt to avoid the inevitable conclusion that her first official welcome in the wizarding world would probably bring her great misfortune, stuck in this room without any clear sign of escape.  She couldn’t even apparate, it would probably be too much and result in ending up in two different places at once… not a good thing. 

“Your world?” she breathed, astonished that such a creature could claim ownership to an entire race, an entire culture.  He had no conception of just how large the wizarding world was, clearly, and it did not all belong to him or ‘his kind.’  She looked at him again, wondering just what ran through that head, if anything at all.  Perhaps there was too much hair and it seeped into the cavity where there could have been a brain.  Unfortunately, the traces of that line of logic proved there was nothing there at all, even hair wouldn’t give him the delusion he had rights to a gift.  “It doesn’t belong to you,” she spat, somewhere in her stomach there had been a surge of bravery, “and without us you and your elitist, purist brothers and sisters would be nothing but inbreeds!”

This surge of energy was met with a sudden collapse.  She fell to the floor with a thud, whining softly as her strength was once again drained.  She wished this potion would finally wear off, or at least allow her to stand.  There were more than one of them – without any strength; she could hardly be expected to fight back.  Her wand was still in his possession as well.  She only had her own hands and that was not nearly enough in the face of magic.  He was not averse to using it either; there was no sympathy in his dark heart. 

Indeed, she was going to be held in this place as long as he wanted to, drying up her tears to some degree.  After a few deep breaths, enough to calm her, Akiva used the last bit of strength she had to push her upper body up and shift her legs so she could sit.  She wasn’t going to lie on the floor anymore.  Even if she couldn’t quite stand (definitely not an option as her head swam from moving upright), she refused to lie down.  “The difference is you deserved to be in the cell!” she glared.  If he was going to keep her and hurt her, she was stupidly going to not let it be passive on her part.  She was afraid, yes, but if she was too much for them, perhaps they would get rid of her faster – do what they wanted and throw her out.  It was scary, but it was better than having no plan at all. 

Cinaed lifted an eyebrow at the woman sitting on floor, finding little of interest in her words.  Yes.  It was his world - though not in the way she'd interpreted it.  Of course, he did not claim sole ownership to wizarding Britain - he wasn't even trying to gain any manner of leadership in this world.  No.  This was his world in the same manner a soldier fought for his country.  Or, in the way composers of old wrote masterpieces for their royalty.  It was his world because he belonged to it - he served it.  He had a right to it - despite how much the Ministry tried to deny it - but with it came a responsibility. 

But, when it came to the mudblood on the floor at his feet, it was a different story.  She was a visitor, a foreigner - an intruder.  She was the product of tainted muggle blood and for anyone to pretend that she ... or any mudblood ... was on an even keel with families who could boast centuries and centuries of wizarding ancestors was offensive.  It was his responsibility - as a true son of this world - to protect and honor it.  In that respect, it was unquestioningly his world. 

"You're right.  It doesn't belong to me.  But, I belong to it.  And you, my dear, are simply an unwanted infiltrator."  He looked up as the door to the room swung open and a pudgy, balding wizard walked in baring a tray with toast and a glass and a pitcher.  "You've been missing it, Mannie.  Our guest here has been enlightening me to the inbred nature of our brothers and sisters.  But, as amusing and captivating as the conversation might be, it has grown a bit old.  I've always found it amusing how that argument seems to conveniently overlook the fact that it's because of their dirtying of old bloodlines that there are fewer and fewer pureblood families around.  It's like listening to snidget hunters complain there aren't enough snidgets to hunt after having killed them all." 

Cinaed waggled his wand at Mannie, directing him to set the tray down on a corner table near Katz.  "Of course, the question still remains whether your wand will function for me.  It's a tricky thing - determining when a wand has swapped allegiance.  Obviously, when you kill someone, it's always straightforward but poisoning.  Is that sufficient?  I suppose we should find out, shouldn't we?"  He felt a surge of adrenaline as he flicked the wand at Katz, just as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, wordlessly cursing her.  Mannie paused by the door, turning to watch the effects. 

His gaze darkened with anger and he leaned forward, the wand still in his hand.  Who was she to pass judgment upon him?  To determine whether he deserved to be in a cell?  It was pathetic and, again, a sign she needed to recognize her place.  "No, my dear," he snarled.  "The difference is I'm the one making the decisions right now.  I don't want to return to Azkaban which means we have a problem.  I can't simply let you go.  It's quite a dilemma."

When the second wizard entered the room, Akiva felt as though he was far less of a threat than the man that had been with her the whole time.  He even came with a tray of some sort, which was both relieving and nerve-wracking.  If it was for her, she wasn’t sure she would actually take it.  The last thing she remembered doing before falling asleep was drinking her tea, which could not be a good sign.  No, it was probably the tea that did it and she turned her eyes to avoid seeing it.  She was hungry and thinking about it would only increase that hunger.  She just didn’t want to be prey to some other volatile potion coursing through her system.  She wasn’t sure she could handle it. 

It didn’t appear it was being offered anyway, especially when the gruff man began to address the pudgy wizard who walked in.  Akiva turned herself toward them, trying to decipher what the intention beyond causing her grievous bodily harm was.  She figured she was not twisted enough to understand the motive, no matter how many times it was put in front of her.  She just could not imagine!  It was especially confusing as she did not know him and there was nothing personal between them – could he not have targeted a more likely target?  Perhaps he was too smart for that… even if she did not want to admit it, some criminal types were exceedingly intelligent. 

“No one’s complaining about a lack of you people,” she hissed close to inaudibly.  She was so frustrated with his twisted logic, with the idea that it was a world that those blessed with the talent but weren’t from the right birth couldn’t get into.  It was so bigoted; it made her stomach churn with anger.  The whole idea that a person could be punished for their birth – it was far too close to home for her and she was about to speak again, however was wordless cursed.  She shrieked as it felt like a thousand needles pricked at her skin and twisted before pulling back.  Her shriek died with the end of the course though and she breathed heavily as she lay on the ground, he was not playing with her.

Well, in a way he was playing with her.  Taunting her and using her own wand against her.  Perhaps the curse hurt more than it had in defense against the dark arts because it was her own wand – because he really meant it.  She was surprised when she looked down and she did not have puncture wounds all over.  Balling her fists she attempted to sit up again, she didn’t want to show him the ultimate submission by laying there.  She was not being particularly intelligent at the moment, but she wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen either – she picked the more foolish of her two choices.

Addressing her captor once again, Akiva’s jaw clenched with residual pain.  “Apparate somewhere, throw me out, I don’t care! Just… let… me… go!” the last syllable was pronounced with force as her chest heaved, elbows quaking as they held her up.  Unfortunately, a lack of upper body strength caused her to collapse onto the hard ground again.  She continued to take labored breaths, moving to her elbows again, a hard stare at the two men in the room.  "I'll be found soon anyway," she added with a shaking voice, "People will have noticed I've gone missing - you'll be back in Azkaban faster than you can say kneazle."

A trace of pity thinned out Mannie's mouth as he spared a glance at Akiva before quickly looking down on the floor.  Luckily, with Cinaed so fixated on the woman on the floor, the expression was lost on the younger, but taller man.  He hovered in the doorway, interlacing his fingers awkwardly before turning to leave.  Halfway out the door, Mannie looked down over Akiva, watching as she opened her mouth to hiss at Cinaed.  Just as she started to speak, he nodded to Akiva and said, loud enough to drone her out, "The toast isn't bad.  A little stale, but the butter should help.  The drink..."

"Mannie!" Cinaed barked at the balding man.  Mannie readily grew quiet after muttering a quick apology.  Cinaed glared at the man before looking back at Katz, shaking his head slowly.  "I'm not expecting you to understand," he said.  "After all, it isn't your fault you were born tainted.  Obviously.  We're just expecting you to learn your proper place.  It's not that complicated."  Of course, for those who understood the order of things - for those who were born naturally lacking ... well, that was a different story. 

His focus had been trained on the woman screaming and curling on the floor, his eyes not wavering from the pained expression on Katz' face.  Again, he missed the pinched look of pity in Mannie's expression and was, mostly, unaware of the other man until he'd heard the door to the room click closed.  The greedy bastard.  Always more than happy to reap the benefits of their little club but too weak to share in the real, dirty responsibilities.  Cinaed turned his attention back to Akiva.  The wand's test had been a short one - chances were, with some of the venom still coursing through her veins her body couldn't handle too much more. 

Cinaed pushed himself to his feet and made to follow Mannie out the door.  But, then Katz spoke up again.  He stopped and turned back to her.  Heavy boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the room to her, kneeling down to draw his face up close to her.  "I'm sorry, sweetheart.  I can't 'just let you go.'  You see.  It's probably guaranteed they'll lock me up if I do just let you go."  He reached out to pat her on the shoulder as a long, thin grin stretched across his face.  "Kneazle."  He said, standing up to stride towards the door, leaving her in the room alone with the food and the contents in the glass.

It was clear that the man who entered the room was older, but the man who had been the whole time was the more dominant.  He wasn’t going to let him get a word in, particularly to Akiva.  He probably didn’t think she was worth an explanation about anything, even just a piece of toast and something to drink.  She looked at it again, feeling as though she could smell it even if it was on the other side of the room and her stomach jerked with a hunger pain.  Licking her lips, she tried to focus on the men in the room, but it turned out she was more hungry and thirsty than she thought – the room spun just a little. 

She was not going to be able to sustain much more at the moment.  Her body ached, her stomach was churning with hunger pains, and her head was swimming.  It would have been better if she had passed out again, but she was not to that point yet.  She was still conscious and enduring the lingering effects of the potion, the hex, and the trauma of being in an unknown location with people she did not even know (though felt like she was committing to memory to describe later).  It was overwhelming, but she was determined to get through this.

There was too much for her to just give up on, clearly, and she wasn’t going to let him win.  Perhaps that was the stubbornness she had in her, to get out of here and assume the position she always had – one she had worked hard for.  So what if he felt like he was entitled to hold her down?  That did not mean she had to give in and be submissive.  She gasped despite herself though, when he bent down to get in close to her face.  She could have vomited had there been anything in her stomach – his breath was rank and his eyes were enough to make fear make anyone queasy.

She recoiled when he touched her shoulder, pushing herself back to avoid the physical contact.  It burned like someone had pressed a cigarette to her shoulder and she glared at him.  The urge to hit him or spit in his face was high, but she refrained.  She wanted him gone; it looked as though he was – only after a final taunt, and shut the door behind him with a deadening thud.  She was alone.    Looking around, she was gripped with fear and relief simultaneously, dragging herself across the floor toward the small offering. 

Picking up the toast, she practically devoured it in one piece.  It was barely enough to satisfy the hunger that had built up, but it was at least something.  The drink, she looked at critically.  Though it appeared to be water… she couldn’t be sure.  The toast had been dry though, despite the butter, and she grabbed the glass.  The temptation was too high, especially alone, and she took a long draw from the glass.  It tasted like water, she reasoned, and looked like water, so she took another long draw.  It was, for a moment, refreshing.  And then her stomach seemed to scream at her. 

Dropping the glass, it shattered into several pieces, some larger than others, and some intensely small, but it didn’t matter as she groaned in pain.  One hand clutched her stomach and she absently put her hand down, slipping on the liquid and letting glass embed itself in her hand.  She cried out again, backing away from the mess and into the middle of the room once again.  She groaned to herself, the pain coming in tidal waves and crashing down in her midsection.  She knew, but she had ignored the instinct.  She had been weak and went against better judgment. 

That measly helping of toast was not going to be in her system for long, she thought through the pain, ready to collapse on the ground again.  She wished she could escape, could go home.  She hoped she would be able to soon or else she feared she might not be able to handle much more.