A/N: I would first like to apologize for repeating a post, but I have updated it so there is no double chapter posting! Yay! Thank you Beccax95, Victoria, and daniiibabiii for letting me know in the comments!

I also would like to note a change I am making to the first chapter. I made a boo-boo, and originally wrote that the Knights of Walpurgis were located IN the Space Needle. However, that is where I've located the American Ministry of Magic, so that can't really happen. Reread chapter one to see the changes!

Thank you so much to all of the stories followers. I'm working hard on making sure I keep this going whilst still having a life and I appreciate your love and patience! :)

Two figures dressed impeccably in black walked through Pike's place market with an icy air about them. Despite the obvious signs that they were not of the area, no one stared. It was normal for a business group to walk through town to pick up a coffee and some lunch, so the duo attracted no attention.

"Bloody muggles won't get out of the way," A deep, raspy voice came from the tallest of the two, Manon Mulciber. His sharp features were turned down in a disapproving grimace as he watched the groups of hippy homeless that walked by. "They all smell like hemp and coffee."

"That's what happens when we pick a bustling city a million miles away," The man next to him growled. He was far from short, but looked so next to his tall, thin colleague. They share a look of distaste before returning their intense glares towards the smoke shop across the street from the bustling market place.

They entered, a harsh buzz noting their arrival to the old man sitting behind the counter. They approached him, waiting for his wheezes to turn to hacking coughs to deep, grumbling sighs.

"What can I do you for?" He grunted. His voice and figure shook under the weight of Parkinsons, though it was easy to see he was concentrating hard on sitting still.

The two men shared another annoyed glance. "We'd like a pack of the Knights." The shorter one, Edmund Travers, groaned out the code, as if it took all his strength to push the words through his pursed lips.

The old man coughed again and nodded. He pressed a button underneath the counter and the three of them watched as a door revealed itself behind some shelving to their right. A dank stairway led them upward into the apartment complex above, where they'd charmed three of them to be one giant room for their headquarters.

At the end of the room was a long glass table where six members sat quietly. Their eyes turned to the two men slowly, watching their every move as they approached the group. The tall man walked to his left and sat in an empty seat besides a beautiful brunette with wide blue eyes that glowed with life. When he was comfortable, he extended his hand to her and caressed the top of her hand with his thumb without a glance in her direction.

"Where were you?" Her voice was quiet and sweet, though her tone was dry, like she hadn't a care in the world where her husband had been.

"Stuck in traffic, Simone darling." He deep voice groaned.

Their eyes found one another and for a split second, the sparks between them ignited if only for a moment. They had to play this way in front of the rest of the group, wearing a mask of boredom and disconnect from one another. Alone, Manon treated Simone to be the true gift that she was to his life. Alone, they were comfortable. Open. Honest. Talkative. They were always laughing and joking and enjoying one another's company. For this split second of eye contact, they were happy and in love.

But with the rest of the Knights, professionalism was key. And if they were to be taken seriously in any way, their adoring relationship had to be hidden in this company.

The couple turned their attention toward Edmund, who sat two seats away from Manon. Between the two sat a young woman with wild raven hair and maniacal eyes that shifted impatiently around the room. She stood, the air around her buzzing with excitement and power. She held herself tall, despite her five foot two height.

"It seems that the Ministry is onto us." Her voice echoed smoothly across the table, holding everyones attention with ease. "Their efforts to follow us have doubled and it looks to be as if they've received backup from Shacklebolt and his Aurors."

A few snickers danced around the table till the woman held her hand up, silencing the room once more. "Don't take their trying too lightly. My concern is not completely sarcastic." She stood from her seat and began to circle the table. The heels of her boots clicked across the concrete with the ominousity of a ticking clock, synchronizing the steady heartbeats of everyone in the room. "What do you think we should do about this, North?"

At the opposite end of the table from where she had sat, a man with black eyes leaned forward, the muscles tightening under his thin black tank top. "You know what I think." He said, his American accent stark against her British. His voice was like velvet, the words dripping from his mouth.

The young woman smiled knowingly, as if she had expected his response. "Tell the group." She spat.

The tan in his cheeks glowed pink for a slight moment, though quickly returned to it's natural dark shade. He ran a hand over his shaved scalp, thinking to himself for a moment. "I think we should relocate."

"He thinks we should relocate!" The woman turned on her heel, now crouching over his shoulder, grinning like mad, a curious twinkle in her eye as she laughed uncontrollably. She repeated her exclamations over and over, digging her fingernails into his skin. His face flinched with every word she screamed into his face and he could feel the pit of his stomach clench uncomfortably. "Lady Mulciber!"

Simone's small frame jumped slightly in her seat, closing her eyes as she regained composure. "Yes?" She whispered.

The mad woman grinned at the girl's fear. "Simone, Simone, Simone. Why is it that it would be a bad idea to relocate?" The volume of her voice was low and deep, her heels clicking until she was now standing behind Simone, a hand possessively on each shoulder. Beside Simone, Manon held back angry growls, tightening his grip on his wife's hand.

Simone swallowed back her fear, breathing deeply as she recited the words the woman so often used. "Because it would be a silly gesture."

The woman let out a happy sigh, releasing Simone's shoulders as she returned to her seat. Manon and Simone held each other's hands tight. The woman's heels clicked to an excited rhythm as she practically danced around the table. "Never have such truer words been spoken!" She cried. She stopped suddenly, her palms slamming onto Mr. North's shoulders. He shut his eyes, but did not flinch, even as her nails tightened into his flesh. "We must never leave this building. It is where we stay. However," her grip loosened, her hands sensually tracing down the muscles in his arms as she bent down, her mouth a whisper away from his cheek. "Our dear Patrick North has given me an idea."

A loud smack left ruby red lip prints on North's cheek and in almost a blur, the woman had left the room. The table remained silent for a moment, the room still claustrophobically full of tension.

"Well," A man sitting in the center of the table cleared his throat. "She always knows how to keep us on her toes."

The woman beside him nodded. "Just like her mother, she is."

Edmund grinned, his eyes twinkling darkly as he stood slowly from his seat, buttoning his jacket to leave once more. "Once a Lestrange, always a Lestrange."

A/N: Thanks again for reading and sorry it took so long to update! Please R&R!