An Unexpected Second

An early Christmas party occurred around him. A small cafe was celebrating the special time of year and Whight needed a place to lay low for a while. He had just finished his work and still had not changed his face.

He sipped on a cup of hot chocolate and surveyed the room. Upon a second take Whight noticed a woman who seemed to be enjoying the happenings as much as he was. He watched from the other side of the room to confirm his suspicions. It was in fact Ms. Lyons. He wondered what business she had gotten herself into since their first and last encounter. Unfortunately she had turned down his offer, but he understood.

Whight thought about his next move. He didn't know whether to approach her and start a new relationship with the woman, or leave her be. Surely she would recognize his name, and if she was as smart as she seemed she would recognize more than just that.

In the end Whight decided to stay exactly where he was. In their last encounter there seemed to be a draw toward one another. An unexplainable interest in the unknown. Maybe things would play put that way once again.

Amelia knew the solitude she had enjoyed after getting well at St. Mungo’s wouldn’t last, but she had at least taken solace in the fact that as long as her parents were still ill, there was little chance she would be mandated to attend formalized social gatherings.

But as she always did, Amelia had underestimated her mother, and Antionette had wasted no time informing Amelia that, as the only person in their family fit to be seen in public, she was to attend all the mandatory upper class events that her parents would have attended if they had been well. So instead of just a few encounters that her parents forced her to attend in the past, this year’s holiday schedule was already packed, and the suitable outfits for each hung up in her closet by Antoinette’s personal assistant. Amelia was not to be trusted to pick out her own clothes.

So tonight, Amelia had put on the obligatory green dress and gold shoes that her mother had chosen for the occasion, stopping to brush a kiss on her father’s cheek before she swept out of the house. His cheeks were sunken and his pallor green, but his eyes still held that same intellectual curiosity that had always defined him in Amelia’s mind, which was reassuring at least.

Amelia apparated to the café on the invitation card that her mother had given her, all gold filigree on cream-coloured card stock. It felt too thick between Amelia’s bony fingers, but she was rid of it as soon as she passed the threshold of the café and into the crowd of people.

The next hour was a blur. Someone took her coat, and moments later she was recognized by several people all at once, being directed from one conversation to another, whisked here and there to grace them with the presence of a Lyons family member, which for some reason they all seemed to think was important. Thankfully, Amelia didn’t need to talk much, as all of these types of people loved to talk about themselves, so she merely handed out the routine compliments, nodded to feign interest, and politely smiled her way through the endless barrage of small talk.

Eventually, though, Amelia needed to excuse herself to use the bathroom, a few moments of solitude to regain enough endurance to face the rest of this night. It was going to be a long holiday season keeping up this social façade.

Stepping out again into the throngs of party-goers, Amelia plucked a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing server, sipping it as she surveyed the room. She wasn’t certain what group she ought to rejoin, since she didn’t actually belong to any of them, but she figured if she waited long enough, someone would tell her what to do. Someone always did.

The job had been simple. Capture, a bit of torturer, a divulging of information and a quick killing was all that needed done. His worked would not be so clean and simple without the use of magic.

"I need to know where you where the day Diagon Alley was attacked?" Whight asked the man tied to a small chair.

"I'll tell you nothing you pathetic piece of sh..." Whight silenced the man by chocking him with a quick spell.

"Your lack of cooperation will only lengthen the pain I am about to put you through." Whight leaned in inches from the man's face. After placing the tip of his wand to the man's temple letting it burn his skin just a bit, Whight said, "Now, I would advise you to speak with a bit of respect before speaking again." There was a pause before he continued. " Tell me. Where were you during the attack on Diagon Alley?" Whight released the spell to allow the man to speak but remained unmoved.

The man hesitated before stating another insulting remark. "You worthless Order scum. You don't scare me. I've seen more pain than you could even begin to imagine."

"Have it your way. I believe I am about to enhance you imagination," said Whight in an unchanged tone.

Whight stepped back and raised his wand. He first released the bonds holding the man in place. The man soon found himself three feet of the floor pinned to the back wall. Fear swelled in the man's eyes as he worked to catch his breath after being thrown across the room. Whight waved his wand to remove the man's shirt. Slowly he walked across the room as the man fought to be freed. Whight made several cuts to the man's chest, abdomen, and wrists. The man squirmed in pain.

"If you wish to live you will speak quickly. As I'm sure you have noticed, you are losing blood quickly. I'm no doctor, but I do believe that with blood loss at your rate you will be dead with in 5 minutes or so. I would speak very soon if I were you." Whight turned around to pull the chair in front of the suspended man. He liked to be relaxed if possible when he did his work.

"Please, please don't do this. I have a family, Children. Don't let me die here," the man begged as blood pooled below him.

"Answer my question," Whight said simply.

After the passing of a few minutes the man realized the severity of his pending death. He began to whisper, but the words were too soft to be heard. Whight pressed an ear toward the man's lips. After a moment Whight thanked the man and made his way to the door.

"Help me," Whight faintly heard as he opened the door. Whight waved his wand and the man's body fell to the floor.

Whight placed his wand inside his jacket, closed the door behind him, walked down the street and entered an active party only to loose any possible tails he could have gained. The man at the door seemed to inebriated to ask about his invitation.

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Ms. Lyons vanished momentarily, but soon reappeared alone. Whight decided to take a chance on the opportunity. "Quite the party, eh?" he said nonchalantly. Conversation was never Whight's forte, but he had enjoyed speaking with Ms. Lyons before. "I would be nice if the world was this pleasant to one another throughout the entire year. Why should one day be anymore special than any other?" He took another sip of his hot chocolate and hoped she didn't realize who he was.

And right on cue, Amelia heard a voice slightly behind her, closer to her ear that she would have liked, which made her back away slightly as she turned to face the man who had spoken. There was a moment of disconnect when she saw the person who seemed to have commented on the party and Amelia looked around him for whatever it was that her brain was looking for but couldn’t quite put into concrete thought. For some reason, her mind was telling her that she recognized the voice she had heard, but… the man she was seeing was no one she knew.

The trouble with having a photographic memory was that her other senses tended to get trumped by her eyes, and if she couldn’t find this man in her rolodex of a brain, then she didn’t know him. He was taller than she was, angular jaw, dark hair, light colored eyes. He was dressed in the same sharp fashion of the rest of the room, so he seemed to fit in naturally. Amelia wished she looked so calm and collected in these scenarios. Her mother would be so proud.

“I fear everyone in this room would be likely to implode if they needed to put on these extensive airs of cheeriness year round,” Amelia responded to his question with a hint of a smirk. Her brain was still latching onto that voice, but she brushed it aside. It was probably just the champagne and the noise of the room.

“Though I suppose a gentleman such as yourself always conducts himself in a manner deserving of a dinner party,” Amelia added in a more subdued tone, the voice of her mother in her head reminding her not to come across as rude or jaded. Antoinette’s daughter had inherited her father’s sharp wit, which was constantly at odds with her mother’s desperate attempts to socialize Amelia into this prim and proper upper crust of wizarding society.

Whight guessed that she still had not figured out who he was. It was possible that she was concealing her knowledge, but it seemed unlikely. Whight wondered how long the conversation would last before the woman began to piece things together.

As if he was looking for someone else he might know at the party, Whight looked around the room to spot any possible tails; still none. He felt safe. He then looked back to Amelia and gave a good chuckle. "Dinner parties are nice and all," he laughed, "but I only attend them when I must. I only stay long enough to get a 'funny party story' and to say "Hello" to a few important faced. Once I feel my appearance has been made I leave. A moon lit walk is much better than a stuffy uppity party, even if it's a bit could outside." Whight smiled to Amelia. This would be the time where he typically gave his name, but he was unsure of the problems that might cause. If she asked for it he had a plan around it already.

"So what is your story?" he asked. "You seem as bored as I feel. I know not everyone wishes to attend these things and I think you and I are two of them." he said as politely as possible hoping he hadn't stepped over some sort of line.

While Amelia spoke, Whight wondered about the new angle he would have to play this time. He wasn't about to make another attempt in bringing her over to his views of things again, this would have to go a little differently. He felt he had pretty much burnt a bridge in their last encounter, but this time he at least hoped to gain some sort ally. Time could only tell. For all he knew he was just another fly in her ear.

You and I both Amelia thought when the gentleman she was speaking to said he only went to dinner parties when he needed to. Amelia struggled through these kinds of events for her parents’ sake, but she had never been good at them. Other women in the room were easily charming their male counterparts, and flattering their female companions just enough so no one would feel insecure. Amelia had never had the social graces to be able to breeze from conversation and conversation, despite her mother’s constant coaching.

When he asked about her story, Amelia was ready to respond with the same answer she had given the rest of the room – My parents weren’t able to make it because they’re feeling under the weather, so they sent me with their regards. They were so very disappointed to miss out on this event. – but before she could recite the mother-approved public statement, the man she was talking to called her out on the fact that she didn’t seem to want to be there.

Although he was probably not the first to notice this – Amelia had never been particularly good at playing the correct emotions to fake her way through these things flawlessly – he was definitely the firs to say it. People at these kinds of parties were better at reading people than they let on, but the rules of upper crust society dictated that you never said things like that directly to a person; rather, you waited to say it behind their back.

But since the dark-haired man had pointed it out, Amelia knew it would be futile to try to give the pre-planned response, but she didn’t have another suitable answer at the ready. So instead, she was caught with her lips slightly parted, her brain racing to come up with something quasi-intelligible to say, but since she didn’t yet know who she was speaking with, she didn’t know what was liable to offend him.

“It’s just the- ah-“ Amelia stuttered, held up by both her indecision and the fact that his eyes were very blue, and something about them seemed familiar, but…

“It’s the holiday season,” the redhead managed, shaking her head slightly to break the trance she had fallen into for a moment, “The number of obligations and the pressure to impress. It can be a bit draining.”

A diplomatic answer, her inner mother’s voice approved, Polite, but, vague. Very good.

“I apologize if I am mistaken,” Amelia said a moment later, finally giving in to her mind’s demand to know who she was talking to. She couldn’t continue to internally refer to him as ‘the gentleman’, “But I don’t believe we have met before. May I have the pleasure of knowing with whom I am speaking?” she inquired, as politely as she was able and glad to be diverting back to the script again, where she felt most comfortable.