| Details for Honest Owls |
| Summary: | Silas and Genevieve discover a common interest and 'friendships' are formed. |
| Date: | 1938-12-01 |
| Location: | East High Street, Hogsmeade |
| Related: | Previous: Loweborn |
| Characters |
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This is the main street and venue for Hogsmeade Village, the eastern portion of High Street. The street is always occupied by someone either out for a walk, loitering, or tidying up the outside of their business. OPEN signs hang in windows, shutters and drapes are open wide so display windows can be peered into to view some of the shop's wares. Bustling with life the forest surrounding the village is as active with wildlife as the village is with civilization, however quaint and country it might be. All of the buildings along High Street are very acute when it comes to their roofs. Each roof outfitted with one or more extremely tall brick chimneys that sometimes are twice the height as the actual building.
Late in the evening… dusk was several hours ago, but with the crisp, clear air, unseasonably warm for the time of year, it's the perfect time for one more comfortable with solitude to enjoy the relatively empty streets. Sitting down against a wall, under a lamp in its flaming glow, is a young man.
Silas is currently sitting with a book in hand, a magicked quill writing for him as he intones this thoughts quietly. Homework, perhaps?
Unlike many students, he comes to Hogsmeade in traditional winter robes well-made, embroidered, intended to show off just how much they cost him. The entire outfit is a striking emerald green and black. Coiled across his shoulders is a striking puff of white, nestled as best she can under the unused hood draped behind his head.
In the distance, several crows call out.
Jenny'd been wandering, letting the chill of the evening air help to clear her mind and some of the heat from her cheeks and her blood. It was relaxing; hands in her pockets, jacket open, breathing deep. Oh to be fair, the chill left her cheeks windswept and her dark hair a tousled mess but she'd didn't seem to have the same stickler air for appearances that she once did. Everything about her radiates a relaxed poise, an easy mind.
It's the crows that call her attention first and she looks towards the sound, watching with an expression that's gone from at ease, to thoughtful with the sound of a sigh, pluming outwards in little puffs for the temperature. Shaking her head, she eases on, and it's then that the flash of black, the splash of white and finally the face draw her eyes.
"I know you." What does that mean? Of him, surely but personally? "Whatcha doin'?" She's not given over to her robes, instead relaxed in a pair of trousers and a comfortable blouse beneath a jacket. Far too liberal homelife, perhaps.
The book snaps shut in a moment, the quill hanging in midair for a moment before he grabs it from midair, dispelling the charm. Silas smiles, looking up as he stows the book into a bag at his side. He waits to make eye contact before he continues, "Genevieve Solomon… of course you know me. We've only taken many of the same classes together for years." Silas makes a point of knowing names.
As he shifts, the animal on his neck, a ferret, should make his identity obvious by now. As he does so, a bit of leg slips out from under his robe. Traditionalist? Definitely… those were black leggings that poked out there.
"I was just taking a bit of the air, as it looks you were doing as well," he offers as a response, "Enjoying the end of our weekend?"
Jenny makes it a point to, walk a little closer, so that he's more defined with his head lifted enough for her to make out facial features closer rather than from afar. "Silas Meliflua." Hah. See, she's not completely oblivous. Temporarily distracted when the ferret moves, as proved by the grin that turns lopsided on her face, but not oblivious.
"Mourning the end of our weekend, more-like. I do not relish the return, the closeness, the sooo many people with serious faces, acting like the world's going to end because of something that isn't going to matter anymore beyond the finish. But that sounds maudline, and very unlike me and heaven forbid, I should be anything unlike myself." Which was a continuation of what was likely still highly mauldin.
Time to change tracks.
"So…how's it going?" There. Maybe that was normal enough.
"I promise to call you Jenny from here on out, if you promise to call me Sy henceforth," the boy intones, his grin wide and honest. A hand brushes his hair back, kept perfectly in place despite the wind. "Mourning? With as many places are there are to hide from the masses at Hogwart's? Here, is seems every firstie is underfoot."
He lets the rest sit in the air for the moment, before responding to the rest, "It is going well, and has been a great time for me to relax. Thankfully, I myself have made a point to stay out of these pointless squabbles you refer to."
"Sy, huh?" The girl ventures, squinting at his hair and the absolute way it remains steadfast, while hers looks like she's been up in the air on a broom for hours. "I suppose I could manage that, if you use Jen and not Jenny." Her smile while warm, was having a little trouble meeting her eyes.
"It's different here, people aren't in such closed circles, looking down their noses at things." Absently kicking at a rock, Jenny watches it tumble across the outter edge of the street and out of sight. "At least the firsties, as you call 'em, are too wide eyed with wonder to be judging you every second of every day, whether they know you or not."
And she seems disappointed with herself too, because that perk is just, it's so painfully hard to pick back up. "I'm glad that you had fun and managed to avoid things. And that you were able to relax. What were you working on?" After all, she'd seen the dancing quill.
With a a slight chuckle, Silas pats the cobblestone next to him, "Jen it is, then… and I'm sorry to infer, then, that you've not had the same experience." A tilt of the head showsx as he waits to see what her reaction will be, before he continues.
"Judgment is something none of us can avoid, sadly… but it happens just as much out here as it does in there. And those closed circles are… permeable. If you know just where to prod." At the next question, he shakes his head, "A journal, actually. A reminder of whom I've spoken to, what I've said. With all the wheels within wheels of everyday life, one must keep track, after all."
He looks to her again, "Don't you keep one?"
Looking slightly surprised, Jenny joins him, sinking down onto the cobblestone only to shiver from the sudden cold that washes up through the thin fabric of her trousers. No wonder he was still in his robes. "S'colder down here," she admits, fishing through her pockets for her gloves because that chill has suddenly made them necessary.
"Of course they're crackable, but, who'd want to be part of some of them? It just seems silly. But I'm rambling and I'll be over it by tomorrow. And silly was the wrong word. I meant boring. I have seen some seriously boring circles that the refusal to crack is made by choice, rather than an inability not too."
He's floored her of course, with this mention of journaling and she gives a shake of her head, sending that dark hair to dancing. "Write down personal thoughts and opinions, where other people can find them, quote them and then pass them around the school? Hah," there, some of her laughter has returned, as has her grin. "No thanks."
At the movement of the girl taking a seat next to him, the ferret on Silas' neck shifts, her head peeking out, bead-like eyes twitching as she chuckles out a warning… apparently someone's not feeling as friendly as usual tonight. At mention of the cold, Silas nods, "It's bracing. And it's also why I don't understand the Muggle fashion of trousers. Far too much room for cold air to chill you. Give me woolen leggings any day,"
"The secret to these circles, however," he continues, "is not accepting the nonacceptance. You'd be shocked how one can upset even the hardest nuts to crack when you assume you have a place there, and refuse to acknowledge any statements to the contrary." His grin widens as he looks at her, "But then again, I'm all about creating allies, or at least making certain any who might otherwise be of a mind to take offense to me has no reason to."
And then, finally, the journal. "There are such things as ciphers and spells and the like to make it unreadable to anyone else, you know. And then there's the ultimate security: have nothing to hide."
Jenny blinked, looking up at the ferret with a hint of a pout for it's warning, "I'm sorry that Mister Mephistopheles bothered you last week. But in my defense I thought it was a white rat he was chasing," she offered the slight and delicate creature, before, again that easy chuckle to Sy's words. "I wear them because they're effective on a broom and for walking." She's spent too much time, as the house chaser. "And because I get tired of the uniform and look absolutely silly in a skirt." Did she? She thinks she does, at any rate.
"As to the circles, oh I've seen how upset they get. I've pushed." His grin is answered with one of her own, and a teasing wriggle of her nose. "But you worry more over allies, I think, than I do. Who you sat with at lunch means a little less, when the walls are gone and you're in the real world. The manipulation's different to gain success out there. But, enough of that," and she waved the topic away with a sweep of her hand.
"There are seventh years with more spells than us, teachers and…," did he say nothing to hide? Jenny looked at him then, aiming to meet his eyes. "I fail to believe that you have absolutely nothing to hide. Maybe, maybe if you were in Hufflepuff, but you're not."
Silas meets the look, eye to eye without any trepidation, or faltering of the smile. "Allies are what I depend on after I get beyond these walls… those who remember my temerity, or those who remember my kindness… but, as you said, enough of that."
He takes a breath, and returns the look with what might be startling intensity, "I've hurt no one, at the least not intentionally. I've stayed out of the petty squabbles and machinations of our fellow snakes. I've taken young ones under my wing, Slytherin or not, and shown them the kindness of an older student. I leave my life an open book, because then none can use that life against me in the future."
Then the smile turns roguish, "Now, I many not reveal all at once… but I've no secrets I fear to come to light."
"You've a mind for future politics then? Where every hand you shake is one you've showed a kindness to in the past. That makes sense then, why you'd be so careful." Why else care about the rest of it? The girl gives a little nod, regardless, the self-same smile. "But I do think that's good of you, in regards to the little ones, particularly not to care for their house." And her smile had tempered towards something sweet, with a hint of admiration in it then.
Though her cheeks may have tempered with a touch of color, when his own went roguish rather than as it'd been. "You've an interesting take on the world, Sy," and there, she tests out his name. Shortened like that. "There's a cleverness in you. Underplayed, I think. You're nice." And so was she and if she was nice with alterior motives some of the time then, why wouldn't others do the same thing?
Silas laughs, shaking his head again, "Actually, no. I plan to care for, and perhaps sell, animals. However, in this world we have friends, allies, enemies, and acquaintances. I prefer to have as few as possible in that third category as I can. It goes no further. And I find that kindness serves me much better than trying to categorize and shift people into little internal cells in regard to how they can be useful to me."
"I appreciate the complement, however."
Animals? Silas has hit on one of the notes that Genevieve actually feels rather strongly about. She scoots around on the cobbles just a little, angling to better face him, which while it may allow their knees to touch, hers are certainly close enough; makes it easier for her to meet his eyes, too.
"I love animals. But…I have a question though. About these animals. If you sell them, do you intent to sell say…owls?"
Silas shifts to meet the change in gaze, and nods, "To a point." He reaches up, fingers scratching idly at the rodent on his shoulders, "Too many get animals for status or idle fancy… when they are a companion, a life dedicated to you. They are not an accessory. So if there is someone who comes to me who would be best suited to an owl as a companion… absolutely. If not… I am not hurting for money."
"I…," the girl began to admit, though her voice was small and measured. "I don't like that they're used so easily. So without sense and someone the other night told me that they were just grateful to fly but, I don't understand how that's some means of defense. They're taken as babies and taught how to forget to care for themselves, trained until it's a near brain washed conditioning, if they aren't just spelled completely stupid to obey without thought to return and I just," can't quite seem to find the words for just how unhappy this actually makes her. "I really, really don't like it. You're not going to do that…are you?"
"But who can know the heart of an animal they've never bothered to bond with, right?" Silas offers as a continuation to an earlier statement there. He nods, "I am certain some would do it willingly, without all the magic and manipulation, you have the right of that. We have, several owls at my parent's estate… a few of whom I had to work with to prevent them from hunting my own companions. It is a great convenience… but yes, it does tug at me a bit as well."
"Yes," Jenny agreed, with a sigh. "But you're right, some would, with enough care and time and investment to go into a thing. It should, too. With things that matter." As obviously animals did. Her smile was kindly, when she looked at him then, watching his eyes as he explained how he'd had to work with them. "Instinct. Nature. But it's good that you took the time with them. There's some who wouldn't." A sad thought, one that tugs the corners of her lips down into the sad little sigh.
"Half of our house, I would think…" He smiles back, "It's not typical to find another honest animal lover in Slytherin. Most would malign me as a Hufflepuff for even having those thoughts." He reaches out, actually attempting to place a hand on the girl's shoulder, "Something tells me there's more to this here."
Jenny doesn't shy away from his hand, there's no instant recoil. It's accepted with an easy smile, though her eyes were still touched with disappointment for his truth in regards to those of their house. "I've had Mister Mephistopheles since he was a kitten. My dad," that smile turned just a smidge shying, "..was a Hufflepuff. Now he works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. So I guess you could say that I come by it honest. He was terrible for bringing in strays when I was growing up," as if she's oh so ancient now. "You'd like him, I think."
"Likely… I may even have met him once… when signing up for my NEWTS we did the typical review of possible jobs we would want to take… and the RCMC was actually one of the departments I considered," Silas offers with a nod, lightly squeezing the shoulder before removing his hand.
"What about you? Will you be devoting yourself to the owls once you graduate? Or is there a greater scheme in mind?"
"You know," there's a decidedly surprised look on the girl's face, "I never considered a career with owls. I mean, I thought about trying to go out for the Arrows or one of the other international teams. Or something with brooms, or bartending, if something happens and I don't manage to finish school but…I never thought about it that way." She smiled at that, leaning in, to return that light squeeze of affection with a little shoulder-bump.
"Da's name is Angelo. Angelo Solomon. Did you meet him?" She was curious at that, those dark eyes lingering in expectation on his own.
Silas chuckles at the shoulder-bump, and responds to it in kind with a shared lean, "See? My plan works. Another friend made. Life is so much easier that way," He grins, reaching back to pull the ferret off of his neck, and into his lap, despite her sleepy clucks of protestation, although she silences almost immediately in the pleasure of a belly-rub.
"You should think on that, then," he continues, "What you do once leaving Hogwarts should be something you love. Something you are passionate about… not simply something that fits within a simple six-step pogrom of 'what good little witches do when they grow up'." He looks to catch her eye again, smile still clear, "It's those who remember that who change the world. Do you think our famous house-mate, Merlin himself, just satisfied himself with whatever was put in his path?"
At the last question, he nods, "Indeed I think I did. Wonderful man, from what I recall."
"Oh," Jenny replied, watching the way he handled his little mistress and petted her into quiet submission, "I don't have any sort of six-step program for…anything. I've just, I don't know." And she doesn't. Perhaps that's why she sighs, taking that lean for what it is and gives over, letting her head come to rest against his shoulder. "I haven't though about it. Or, just, not about it enough to…," it was hard to really put into words. Jenny lacked direction and her grades reflected her lack of passion. How do you say that to someone who's so straight forward about what he wants and how he's going to get it.
"I like you." A plain statement, "You're open." Like a book. And she was taking his kindness as a genuine face value truth, whether that was a smart thing to do or not. "You see things differently and I..don't. It's kind of helpful."
"You just need direction, then," Silas offers, his voice quieter now, "and perhaps friends to push you in it, once you've decided upon it." His smile softens as she leans her head on his shoulder, and he lets a moment of silence stretch out before he replies to the next bit, "I'm honest. Again, nothing to hide. Makes life so much easier than sifting through and remembering lies." It's all just a matter of recalling how much truth is provided instead.
"And thank you," he offers to the complement, "I like to think that I do… and honestly that others can do the same if only they allow themselves to. You are more than welcome to lean on me for that, until you're able to find it in yourself."
With that, he looks up, and with a little calculation upon looking at the moon, sighs, "However, I think we should be heading back… we still have time enough to get back before curfew." Then the smile turns just slightly impish, "Care to start a few rumors and whispers by showing up arm in arm? I'm sure that would set all those little circles aflutter."
"Probably," even agreeing to a direction is a trick for Jenny, she's missing such of a goal for it. But he can feel the way she nods her agreement, to at least admitting she needs a little help to find one. "I'm honest too," the words are soft. "Or well, that's a lie. I am nice. Sometimes I don't entirely mean what I'm saying, but it's said to avoid the alternative which is…less kind." But being with someone so honest is making her feel, guilty? That was strange.
"You wouldn't mind? Me leaning for insight and such?" He'd offered of course, but she wanted to be sure. And then, he up and made her grin. "You think that'd set them to talking? I wouldn't be adverse, of course. It might help me a little, honestly, because some of them got…upset when I invited some others of questionable blood out drinking with me the other night. If that doesn't bother you, then I'd love to walk back with you. To the start of our hallway, at least? I've got something I need to run do, but I could meet you in the common room after?"
"It would be a pleasure, if only for the chance to help someone who could some day change the world." Silas offers with another smile, and then, which much careful movement, works to get the two of them up and standing, "You may of course lean on me… because I hope we can be friends, and that is WHY I seek friends. Who knows when I will some day need the same?"
At the mention of blood purity, he does pause, and his voice gets quieter, "The only place where blood matters to me, truthfully, is in the continuation of my own bloodline and family name. Beyond that… questionable blood considerations are best left for those who still hold to notions I don't share."
He tilts his head down the road, "Come on, then… let's go make some noise."
"Friends." Jenny considers the word. There's some sense that it's a little different when he says it, that he means it. That he's in their House can means it. That's the unexpected part. No one has been harmed in the creation of this friendship. No one has been plotted against for harm, for it's making. "Yes." She finishes, at length, with a smile who's warmth touches her eyes and adds a tidge of color to her cheeks.
She's careful though, as they stand, not to squish his companion, as her arm laces through his and admittedly, she is close, half because they've conspired to turn heads and half because he's a lot warmer. And this is, nice. "I won't repeat it," she promises, as the pair start off towards the school. "I promise. Because I feel the same way."