Author's Note: Part two of the shotty little chapter which opened up Silas' part. I realized this must seem unformed and off focus but I assure you, I know almost exactly what I'm doing! J I hope you enjoy, please forgive errors, review and keep an eye out for updates.

Chapter Ten: Movement One: Cruelties Envisioned

The beat was chaotic and only half realized but Silas followed it like if it the Siren's song. Like it was most afternoons, the school grounds were covered with groups of friends and lovers who huddled together to gossip or entertain each other with stories, complains or other mundane everyday things that made up the course of a teenagers life. Nearest to the lake, Silas could see James Potter and Sirius Black horse-fighting in the dirt, while Remus Lupin lay on his side, watching them like Bacchus watching his women. Peter Pettigrew, hands stuffed in pockets, had a book on his lap and was ignoring them or at least pretending too. Further away, a safe enough distance to maintain the appearance of aloofness was Lily Evans.

And off in the corner, the one nearest to the Groundskeeper's hut, and the Forbidden Forest was the heart of the sound that had so entranced Silas. Sitting on the ground as if she and her minstrel were the only ones in the world, was Jamie Kahle. Jamie was wearing blue jeans and a torn, painfully thin shirt that barely covered anything. She was strumming some idle theme on her guitar with her right hand, stopping every once in a while pausing when some unseen force took her over and made her turn her thigh into a drum. She was smiling haphazardly, looking out through one eye open to her singer, encouraging him through her laughter and amazement to forget all else and continue. To always continue with the music.

And there, not so much singing as chanting, in his cold uncultured voice was Severus Snape. His eyes were shut, and his head was moving in rhythm to Jamie's beat. He was totally replaced, in a world not of his making but in his full control. He ruled the moment with his words: unpolished and rough and sometimes stumbling as he tried to make sense of whatever chaotic dreamscape was running through his mind but full of oceans of emotion: pain, love and hurt for some pain he could not understand.

Silas doubled his step, to catch the last words of Severus' theme before the magic of the moment was lost.

"Prefect child, prefect pyre/ Come with him and dance a while. See his wonder, hear his laughter and only wonder after- if he smiles, if he fools you- did he do himself injury or a boon?" Severus sang, "Prefect child, prefect pyre. Never see the fire consuming/ constituting… a hell you'll never know he always held."

Something happened then, Severus eyes flew open and fixed Silas in his gaze and never losing the beat, Severus continued with a small smile on his lips meant only for Silas; to tease him.

"Watch him smile, watch him love you. Know he's waiting for the day you'll rescue him someway. Prefect child, prefect pyre. Come with him a dance a while. Be amazed, leave a trace in the ash of his embrace."

Jamie had finished her song, and folded her body over her guitar to smile catlike at Silas. "Hey Silly-boy, come to join our jam session?"

"No thanks." Silas shook his head as he fell to his knees facing Severus and Jamie. One never came between them, he knew. When you approached them, you sat before them, like petitioning twin gods. Which was exactly what he was going to do, in a sense. Still, it never hurt to kid the gods. "The beat-knick generation ended with my mother's friends."

"Oh, he insults us!" Jamie shouted, throwing her guitar pick at him.

Snape smiled but said nothing, keeping his eyes on Silas knowingly. He was like some strange urban Buddha, Silas decided, only at this phase Severus was more like Siddhartha then his enlightened alter ego. Today found the Akel Dama Lord in a white dress shirt and hanging tie, with black torn pants and with his tie loose and cloak hanging limp around his uneven, unkempt hair. Melanie had always made him tie it into a ponytail, but Severus having no vanity, liked it lose and oily from the many hours he spent in the dungeons. Sitting close by him, kept away from his book bag for fear of contamination, was a sketchbook whose cover was stripped away and scrawled on. In there, judging on who you talked to, was rumored to be anything from sketches, and poetry, to detailed maps concerning a mercenary attack on the school. And, resting serenely and unimposing over Severus' lap like a sheathed sword was a black umbrella despite the beautiful sun that favored the sky at this hour.

Silas was able to keep Severus gaze for a moment, but eventually squirmed and having achieved his objective, Severus smiled more sincerely as lifted his head. "So tell me, dear one, what are you grinning at?"

"Someone loves me." Silas answered truthfully. His voice was quiet, and introverted as if saying this to too many people would cause the secret to be neglected or destroyed.

"Oh?" Jamie returned with a cool, taunting smile on her face. "And who is this creature who has unwisely fallen for you?"

"My little secret." Like all gods, Silas knew to ask something from these two, he would have to pass their tests.

"I know." Severus said, but really didn't. "It's some doleful vision with dark brown hair and of burnished hues who wears gold like a second skin, and whose eyes, dark as coals, watch you like a toy."

Silas laughed in attempt to appear nonchalant. "Try again."

"Some flax goddess then, with sunshine hair and wheat skin. An endowed woman with pink thighs and milk as sweet as honey and lips that taste like nectar of the gods."

Silas made no attempt to stifle his groan. "Oh no, it's bad Goth poetry!"

Snape looked insulted. "My poetry is never bad. It's under appreciated."

"Like all Gothic poetry, right?" Jamie asked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Exactly." Severus said with finality. "And while I love talking about myself, this doesn't excuse you from telling us who your beloved is."

Silas turned and for a moment truly meant to tell Severus who had spoken those simple words to him. A moment later, shame took his voice. He was loved, and this was not something Silas had ever felt before, not truly. Not like Severus with his warm legacies or Jamie and her Hufflepuff family. Severus was a golden boy, loved by family and stranger because of his name. He was indulged and pampered and wouldn't for a moment understand what it meant to be in the same room with family, longing for comfort but never receiving it. Jamie was whole and came from a huge family, with generation upon generation falling into step behind her to love her.

People like these didn't-couldn't- know what it was like to stare into the face of your father and know that no matter what you do, no matter how you hurt, or how much you're angered you cannot go to him for comfort for none would be offered and weakness would be punished. Nor would they ever know the humanity of their mother: the baseness and ugliness of the woman who had protected you for the first months of your life.

For them, parents would forever be static and saintly; pictures of beauty and heroism half-remembered and half-imagined that would forever be some vision that worthy of imitation.

For Silas, his parents were something to revile and forget as soon as possible. And as terribly unpoetic and unoriginal as it sounded: if love could not be found at home, how could Silas ever be certain of those who promised him love and compassion on the outside. Be it lovely, lying women or handsome, weak men.

No. There was too much left to chance, and Silas would never gamble with himself. He could lose all else but not himself.

And staring into Severus brown eyes, Silas felt a whisper of mistrust and fear towards his friend. No, he thought, Severus could not understand how profoundly those simple words had affected him and he would not subject his most precious possession to scorn.

"I can't tell you." Silas said. "It's not for you to know."

Severus blinked, "Fine." He said softly. "Keep your little secret."

Jamie reclined, away from him and rested on her knuckles to take in Silas full gaze. "Well, what's up then? If you hadn't come to boast, what brings you here?"

Silas smiled; the gods had accepted him. He could now ask and they would grant. "I came for Severus, actually."

"Me?"

"Your Potions knowledge actually." He turned away, knowing he would have to word this very carefully. "You remember my old cat, the one we found in Hogsmeade and I took to Conaire's bar?"

"Shylock?" Severus nodded, leaning forward. "Yeah, what about the old flea bag?"

"Well Con says Shylock's being acting kind of moody and won't move around, like the arthritis has gotten worst. And you know how Con is about Healers…" Severus' face darkened in sympathy, urging Silas to continue with his farce. "I was thinking of putting him to sleep." To which he added hurriedly. "You know, something easy and painless, I don't want him to suffer."

Jamie blinked and turned to study her guitar. Silas wondered for a moment if she had seen through him. If she had, she said nothing. Severus, on the other hand, was quietly studying Silas, as was his way before choosing to speak.

"Belladonna." He said simply. "It's harder to find but it should give you something painless for Shylock."

"I need something accessible."

"Oleander leaves, perhaps? You'd have to make sure it's the right dosage though. Too little, and Oleander is just a sleeping potion, a little shy of the right amount and you can make Shylock sicker then he is."

"What's something full proof? Something that won't leave a trace- you know something that can tip Shylock off- but won't be too slow or difficult?"

The demigod closed his eyes in meditation and for a moment, Silas feared he had lost Severus. Jamie had begun to pluck on her guitar strings idly, choosing to ignore this talk and concentrate on something more traditional then her earlier jam session. She began to strum the tune of a Christmas carol, humming the words quietly to herself.

Severus opened his eyes. "Mistletoe. You can brew it with some Oleander if you want to dilute the bad taste and put it in some warm brandy to feed it to Shylock. He'll get sleepy, and then just drift away."

Silas smiled, jumping to his feet. "Thanks Sev, you're an Angel."

"No I'm not." He said simply.

Silas turned to go, counted to five in his head then turned back. "Warm Brandy?" He asked, "Should I be careful, I mean this wouldn't like hurt Con if he drank it by accident would it?"

"If you do a small dose, no." Snape allowed. "But give him two shots of it and it's deadly. You only need about a teaspoon of it for Shylock if you brew it right."

"Thanks, again."

Silas ran back to the Commons, thrilled. He bounded down the stairs, twirling at the foot of them to some silent symphony of his own making. He pictured Con's face in his mind's eye; pictured the way his Uncle's quiet, heated looks would now be fixed on him once Silas revealed to him that he had been able to keep Conaire's air of mercy intact. He would be able to show Conaire there were other, cleaner ways of achieving one's end and they were as easy as putting a cat to sleep. Silas stop, laughed at his cleverness and looked around the empty room. He decided he wanted to celebrate.

Prowling towards the floo, Silas whispered her name into the fire only to see a long mane of blond hair and her sad French eyes peering surprised but pleased back at him.

"Silas," Narcissa purred nervously, looking aside to shoo away friends who were scrambling to see his face. "You called, I heard you weren't the type of boy who'd…how are you?"

"Good." Silas answered easily, leaning closer to the flame. "I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight…"