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  THE MOMENT THE door to the apartment shut they both relaxed. Draco dropped Seven's hand instantly, concealing his repulsion by busying his fingers with his tie. Seven noticed, a tinge of anger colouring her thoughts, what exactly was his problem?

Try as she might she just couldn't quite seem to figure her companion out. One moment he was smirking, occasionally even teasing, and the next he was cold and calculating as winter dew.

Draco didn't look at her as he spoke, tossing his tie over the bed frame and before beginning on the buttons of his jacket. "Have you still got your knife?"

"Always."

"Good." Draping his jacket over the back of the armchair he stared out the glass wall at the city below, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. "You'll need it for tomorrow."

Seven kicked off her heels, perching on the armchair and tucking her legs up beneath her. Maybe it was just his jacket, but even from there she could smell the scent of him. Warm and pressing and yet comforting all at the same time, she couldn't explain it, but he smelled like home.

  It made her sad. The only home she'd ever known was wherever she found herself on any given night. She'd never felt safe. She'd never slept well. She was always on the run; though she never knew what from, she just knew she had to keep moving.

  Maybe it was herself she'd spent the past two years running from. Maybe it was the fear that if she stayed still for long enough, eventually the crushing sadness would catch up with her. She'd never allowed herself to realise how desperately lonely she'd been, her only company being her fistful of letters and the hatred of a corrupt system that they'd inspired.

  So much so that she'd travelled across four districts, and all the desolate no-mans in between, just to the place she knew she'd find Lust.

  Theodore Nott had always been the most reckless of the seven Sins, and that is why he had been the first to go. His hosting of constant and famed frivolities, albeit parties, orgies or high-flying dinners, had meant that the address of Nott mansion was far from a secret. It had been far too easy for Seven to track him down, find his face amongst the crowd, and stuck a knife in his heart. The other Sins would not go so gentle into that goodnight, let alone now that one Sin had already fallen.

  The death of one Sin could be brushed off by many as a random act of senseless violence, though Seven was not a fool, she knew that the ministry would never believe it as such. However the moment the second Sin's heart stilled, there would be no doubt in anyone's minds what was happening.

  Maybe it would escape the notice of the loyalists in the Greed, Envy, Lust and Pride districts, but to the rebels in Sloth, it could ignite a spark that would burn the city to the ground if they believed that someone was killing off the Sins, one by one.

  Seven couldn't help but wonder if they'd try play off Gluttony's death just as they had Lust's. To pass her off as a traitor to the realm and then slit her throat before a crowd.

Surely if they did even the most dull-minded of passives would suspect something else was going on behind the scenes...

"Seven."

She didn't realise that as she'd been ensconced in her thoughts she'd been staring at Draco. He frowned at her, "Are you even listening?"

  She opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it again and pursed her lips.

  "This isn't a game, you realise." He snarled, crossing his arms across his chest. Seven's eyes fixated on the shift of muscle beneath his shirt. "Killing Gluttony will be nothing like killing Lust. Lust was easy, stupid, —he made himself vulnerable and practically got himself killed. Anyone could've done it, it was only a matter of time before someone took the risk. —But Gluttony will be guarded, and don't let her fool you as the leader of the farming faction, she's just as ruthless and cruel as the rest of them. She will not hesitate to kill you first."

  His underplaying of her role in the death of the first Sin annoyed her greatly. She'd spent months, years planning her assault on the sins, and for him to then turn around infer that it was nothing more than child's play, she wouldn't have it.

  "If killing Lust was as simple as you say, then why didn't you kill him?" She snapped.

  He looked at her for a moment, a strange look in his eye as an unnerving smile crept onto the corner of his lips, "My dearest darling, what makes you think I didn't."

"—Because," She began at once, resisting the urge to clench her fists, and instead settling for a death-glare. He was infuriating. "—Last I checked, I was the one that got him alone, and I was the one that left the dagger in his chest."

She knew he was only trying to get under her skin, and it was working. She couldn't stop herself from snapping back, petty as it may be. "—You weren't even there."

  He watched her; like a predator would prey. Silently sussing out the foreign girl, reading her movements, the subtle furrow of her brow, the way she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, before finally he spoke, "Or was I?"

  This seemed to confuse her, for her eyebrows knit together and she stared back at him for a moment with a look of deep frustration, desperately trying to recall the events of that night. He chuckled, "How else do you think I found you?"

  Then before she could speak he walked off, but not before he said, "Or maybe you're right, and it was all down to luck."

  Then he shut the bathroom door and a few moments later Seven heard the shower turn on.
  She sat there for a while; confused and slightly numb. Trying her best to wrap her head around everything he had just said.

It was then that a knock at the apartment door sounded, and when Seven answered she stood before the same male concierge as earlier. He gave her a tight lip smile, hands folded at his front, "Lady Sadem?"

"Yes?" Seven replied.

"Terribly sorry, but your presence is required down at the front desk," He stepped back and held out an arm, guiding her out of the room, but still he shifted awkwardly where he stood, "There appears to be an issue with your identification."

Seven felt her heart plummet into the ground beneath her feet. Nonetheless, she swallowed her angst inward and obliged, following the young concierge to the elevator, wherein they traveled in silence.

A million thoughts ran through her mind like mice through a larder, scattering and scampering before she could so much as begin to grasp them tangibly.
—Had the dissimulation charm worn off already?
She had spent good money on the damned thing, more so than she thought necessary just to be certain it would work. Had the old man she'd bought it from in Sloth ripped her off? Or, had they somehow managed to bypass the enchantments?

If so then that raised the question of why had they been looking into her identification so closely? She hadn't done anything to merit their suspicion, had she?
—If she had then maybe it was already too late, for her at least. Even if they hadn't afforded Draco's identification the same conjecture, they soon would.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and tried to still the shaking in her fingers as they approached the desk. Once there the concierge shot her one final, pursed-lipped smile before disappearing off.

"Lady Sadem?"

Seven swallowed but stepped forwards, placing her hands on the desk and smiling sweetly. "Yes?"

The receptionist did not smile. "It appears that your identification is fraudulent."

Her words stuck Seven like a dagger to the chest, and she briefly found herself fumbling for words. "E-Excuse me?"

"Your identification." The receptionist echoed dumbly, "It's fraudulent."

Seven frowned, "Yes I realise that, but how?"

"It appears that the social security and ministry trace numbers on your passport do not match." She then began to type rapidly on her keyboard, eyes trained on the monitor. "—In fact, your ministry trace number links back to a person, who is confirmed deceased."

"I—I..." Seven bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Beneath her dress her fingers fumbled for her wand, sliding it silently from her garter, readying to revamp the receptionist's memory with something far more agreeable to her agenda.

That was until she felt a warm body behind her own, and a callused palm wrap around her wrist.

***
QOTD-Who do you think it is? -TFOA