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MMMM3; The Great Pulsating Killerbug
Topic Started: Mar 8 2011, 04:10 PM (406 Views)
Silas Matthews
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Lord of the Dance

A stretch of dreamless sleep. That's what Silas called the few days that preceded his return to Hogwarts. Of course, it also helped that it pretty much was a dreamless sleep. Seventy two hours passed from the time he closed his eyes and the time he woke up. What happened to him while he was sleeping, he had no idea. He woke up sticky, but dry, relaxed but surprised and healthy but parched and starving. What struck him the most, however, was that there was no one home when he woke up. Dressed in only his very childish dragon pants and pasty skin, Silas had risen from his bed and searched the house for anyone - the house elves, his father, his sister, even Georgette. But the place was as baron as his dreams.

Naturally, the only solution was to use his father's study and floo to Hogwarts where he was sure there would be people awaiting his arrival. It had been ages since he'd seen Jude and Sebastian, and while he was meticulously avoiding Cam from the moment that he kissed Bella for the first time, Silas was harboring a sense of hope that he'd see his best friend and their girl. But, first things first: a drink with the lads to celebrate the disappearance of his comatose state.

The date on his father's Wigam Football (gross, Silas thought) calendar was a Thursday. He spun his head quickly to the side and glanced at the little clock his father kept around. Near 9am. Jude and Sebastian would be in Charms class. There was a chance he could catch them before they got into any of the Professor's crazy charms' work... and then he could drag them out for a celebratory butterbeer (read: firewhisky). The only problem with Silas's awesome plan was the one thing that annihilated 99% of his plans: professors. He couldn't very well floo to the Charms classroom and yank the blokes out. It would have to be much stealthier. If only he had an invisibility cloak...

Ah. But he did have Charms. Hadn't they learned about the Disillusionment spell a few months ago? A devious, confident smile rose on Silas's lips as he flicked through a dozen complex spells in his mind and finally settled on the one he figured was correct. Unfortunately, there wasn't a mirror available and in his excitable squidginess, he didn't bother to go check and make sure he was invisible. A tiny detail that would probably haunt him forever.

Crossing through a fireplace grate wasn't ever a pleasant experience. You were never safe from soot-flooded lungs or the chance that your clothes could catch fire. But, it was the quickest way from A to B without being arrested. And Silas never wanted to experience that again either. The Ministry dungeons didn't suit him. They were too containing. Too... dungeony. Though he did learn how to play a wicked new version of Exploding Snap and -

He was waffling in his own mind when he should have been concentrating on what he was doing. If he would have checked himself over, Silas would have noticed the very bright orange gleam that his skin had taken. Like a pumpkin. Only shinier. A sequin pumpkin. He had no clue.

He scooped out a handful of soot from his father's glass dish and tossed it into the fire just as he stepped in shouting 'Hogwarts: Headmaster's Office.' A quick scan of the office indicated that Reynolds was out scouring the school for misbehaving adolescents. If he snuck quietly through the office, he wouldn't wake any of the portraits, though he did catch a sly smile from one of the greatest Headmasters on the wall. Silas being Silas, didn't question that his Disillusionment charm had failed and instead rewarded the Former Headmaster's smile with a cheeky wink of his own.

When in a situation that requires sneakiness, Silas will go to extra lengths to ensure that his stature and bumbliness are kept quiet and hidden. The success of his efforts can be seen from the detentions that he spends with Professor Gray every couple of days. So he knew that today would have to be an extra sneaky day - smuggling two blokes out of school for a pint wasn't going to gain any favors from the teaching staff. As soon as he began to descend the steps that lead to the rest of the school, Silas was walking very slowly on his tippy-toes, arms squeezed tightly to his sides, mouth pressed in a firm line. He was King of the Chameleons. Champion of Camouflage. He was...

Tripping over his own two feet. Tumbling down and down until his chin hit the cement floor of the corridor. Luckily, he was practically invisible, save for around the edges which could be hidden by keeping sudden movements to a minimum. It was then, however, that he noticed the dazzling orange tone of his skin and the way that the light from the windows bounced off of it creating prisms on the wall. He stayed still for a moment, staring at his arm, completely oblivious to a second year Hufflepuff staring down at him in horror.

"Are you okay?" The pre-pubescent voice asked him.

Silas jumped up, his mouth forming a wonky 'o' and his eyes round, alert. He moved slightly to the left, watching the Hufflepuff's eyes follow him, and then to the right. "You can't see me!" He shouted suddenly, hyperaware that he in fact could be seen. "You can't see me!"

He took off like a snitch down the corridor, arms no longer tight against his body, legs not taking the care they had been when he was tippy-toeing down the stairs. Instead, his body was a mad scramble of limbs as he ran to the fullest extent of his capability, up staircases, through portrait holes and finally to the Charms classroom door. Standing in the hall, waiting for class to start, was the entire 7th year Slytherin and Gryffindor NEWT Charms class.

That's when he knew that his spell had definitely, definitely gone wrong.

It was a moment that should have raised alarms in Silas's brain, alerted him to the dire situation he was facing. Embarrassment. Humiliation. Detention. But, no. Without hesitation, Silas zeroed in on his two mates, standing close together as if they had been talking before the ruckus of his sprint barged into their lives once again. He paid their odd looks no mind - he has used to them. Silas walked to them, his entire ambiance reeking of nonchalance as he leaned up against the wall furthest away from the other students and crossed his ankles.

"So, I had this idea..." He let the words linger in the air for a few minutes, mischievous eyes twinkling under the flicker of light from the torches on the wall. "It's all gone a bit Pete, mind you; orange wasn't on the agenda."

He grinned wider, as if he was proud of his faulty spell.

"I've come to break you lads out for a drink at the Hog's Head. What say you?" Silas ignored their exchange look that would tell anyone else that they seriously questioned his mental stability and withdrew his wand from his pocket. "I know what you're thinking: 'But Si, there are a dozen people here to witness our grand escape!', 'Silas, the professor will know we're missing.', 'Don't be stupid, Silas, sequin looks horrible on you.' But you know what fellas? I've got an answer to each one of your concerns."

He moved quickly to the side and stood in front of their class. Improv was like second nature to the boy, just as easily as some people did Arithmancy. "I have been sent with an urgent message from Headmaster Reynolds. There's been a -" Silas flailed out his arms as if he was reaching for everyone in the hallway. Dramatics never failed him. "- terrible catastrophic, cataclysmic, very bad thing that's happened and all of you have been dismissed from class."

"Matthews-" He heard a Gryffindor say quite condescendingly, if he did say so himself.

"Go now! Go before you get ravaged by the rainbow saliva of the Great Pulsating Killerbug!"

It took a very silent moment, but the hallway filled with shrieks and screams, surrounding the three boys who remained motionless, watching the chaos. Silas stood up straight, caught their eyes and smiled, nodding his head over to the side to invite them to join him on his way to Hogsmeade.

And just like that, they were on their way.
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Sebastian Bancroft
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Apparently, there was a rumour going around that Calleigh fancied some unfortunate bloke here at school. He was unfortunate because if Calleigh was interested, then Seb was determined to make sure that he’d be good enough for her. The part of this idle bit of gossip that was making this so intriguing however, was the mystery that went along with it. No one knew who it was. Calleigh wasn’t saying and no one had actually seen this fellow’s face. Though rumour had it that his (sweet, naïve) sister had been spotted darting into a broom closet with a light haired fellow at the Halloween ball. Seb had chalked it up to the overactive imaginations of the student gossip mongers. He’d seen firsthand how relentless they could be.

As Sebastian had arrived in the corridor just outside the Charms classroom (on time for a change), he’d been fortunate enough to overhear David Beechwood discussing his sister. Beechwood was a smarmy bastard, who had always had a thing for Calleigh. And he was not nearly good enough for her. But in Seb’s eyes, no one really was. He adored all his sisters (even Tara, when she wasn’t being a pain in the arse) but he and Cals had always been close and he was particularly protective of her.

“Please. Calleigh Bancroft is interested in only one guy in this school, me. And she’s just pissed that I asked Elizabeth Madison to the Halloween ball instead of her, so she is starting this rumour. She just wants me to be jealous.” His smug tone while talking about Calleigh was more than enough to set Sebastian’s temper off, but he continued to listen. With a scoff, he continued. “As if she ever stood a chance with me.”

Beechwood’s friends finally noticed Sebastian as he stepped up behind David. He set down his rucksack and folded his arms over his chest before leaning one shoulder against the stone wall directly behind the cocky prat. His friends tried to silence him, but the git was on a roll. They tried shooting him looks of warning, shushing him and even pointing at Sebastian, but the clueless dolt continued on.

“Sure she’s pretty enough, but she’s a bit of a prude and she’s got that overbearing, overprotective arse of a brother to contend with…”

“Shut up David!” One of his friends exclaimed in alarm. Finally, Beechwood turned around to see Seb’s icy thin-lipped grin. His eyes flashed menacingly as David tried to back away. His hand shot out and caught the front of the Gryffindor’s robes, keeping him from stumbling backwards. No, Seb wanted to keep him within arm’s reach for the moment.

“No, please, David continue. I am actually quite interested in hearing more about how a girl like my sister doesn’t stand a chance with a ponce like you.”

“That’s… uh… well…” Beechwood’s eyes darted around the corridor. Seb could only assume he was looking for a professor to break this up before any punches could be thrown. “That’s not exactly, uh, what I meant.”

“No, Beechie, I think you were quite clear.” The cruel grin faded from Sebastian’s face and a dangerous gleam lit his eyes as he pulled the thin lad closer so that they were almost nose to nose. “… and if you ever so much as mention my sister’s name again, you spineless twat, I’ll rip your sorry excuse for bollocks off and feed them to you.” Sebastian growled as he glared down at the scrawny Gryffindor who peered up at him through his wire framed glasses before turning to scurry off with his friends.

A broad grin lit his face as Sebastian watched them go down the hall. At this point David didn’t even seem concerned that he was going to miss class. He leaned back against the wall and chuckled. Just as the trio of scampering Gryffindors hurried around the corner, Jude rounded it heading toward the Charms classroom.

He lifted a hand in greeting and waited patiently as his friend headed toward him. There was a questioning look in Jude’s eyes as he joined Sebastian near the wall.

“Can you believe that pompous arse said he was too good for my sister?” Sebastian scoffed at the thought. The simple question was likely enough for Jude to deduce what had just happened only moments before. “He’s lucky that…”

Jude would never learn just exactly why Sebastian thought Beechwood was lucky in that moment, because another sight stole Sebastian’s complete attention. A sight that would have been completely baffling if it weren’t for the fact that it was caused by the one and only Silas Matthews.

A very bright, very orange Silas Matthews.

Seb’s jaw dropped open for only a split second before a huge grin spread over his face. A bubble of laughter seemed to erupt from within him at the image before them. Silas was running towards them with a flailing of brilliant shiny orange limbs. Yet despite this, Seb couldn’t help but think that this was actually one of Silas’ more normal entrances into any conversation.

As Si’s gangly frame hurried toward them, Seb raised a hand in a wave but the laughter was hard to contain.

"So, I had this idea..." Silas was slightly out of breath from his uninhibited flailing run through the school but his bright orange eyes gleamed mischievously letting them know that this idea was likely going to end up with the three of them in detention. Or more likely, the hospital ward. Again. Yet even as he thought it, Sebastian knew that without a doubt, he and Jude would happily join Silas on whatever little adventure he had up his bright orange sleeve. It’s the way they always worked. All for one and all that rot. "It's all gone a bit Pete, mind you; orange wasn't on the agenda."

Sebastian’s chuckles started anew as he glanced up to Jude, as if to prove to himself that Jude was seeing the same thing he was. From the grin on their Gryffindor friend’s face, he was seeing the great pumpkin too.

"I've come to break you lads out for a drink at the Hog's Head. What say you? I know what you're thinking: 'But Si, there are a dozen people here to witness our grand escape!', 'Silas, the professor will know we're missing.', 'Don't be stupid, Silas, sequin looks horrible on you.' But you know what fellas? I've got an answer to each one of your concerns."

Actually, the only question on Seb’s mind was ‘But Si, how the hell did you manage to turn yourself that particularly offensive shade of orange?’

Silas had no intention of actually stopping to listen to either of them. And he stepped further out into the corridor and raised his arms while speaking loudly to the class that had congregated in the hall waiting for Professor Sullivan.

"I have been sent with an urgent message from Headmaster Reynolds. There's been a terrible catastrophic, cataclysmic, very bad thing that's happened and all of you have been dismissed from class."

“Matthews –“ A classmate looked at Silas with a look of disbelief. Truth be told, there were a lot of disbelieving looks in the corridor at the moment.

"Go now! Go before you get ravaged by the rainbow saliva of the Great Pulsating Killerbug!" Si ignored them all. And after a few beats of silence, surprisingly, everyone listened. More than likely, they were just looking for any excuse for an afternoon off from class. Laughter and loud voices erupted from the scattering students as everyone tried to get away before the professor could enter the corridor and sent them all into class.

Sebastian cast a wry grin at Silas before glancing back to Jude.

“Looks like we are free for couple drinks.” He stooped to grab his rucksack and began to head down the hallway to find the marble statue of Henry the Hideous Hobgoblin. Behind it was their favourite secret passage that took them straight into the alley behind the Hogs Head.



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Jude McFadyen
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“What a tosser,” David Beechwood spat as he rounded the corner, apparently so preoccupied with his own burning resentment and bitter hostility he didn’t even notice Jude at all, who had only his nimble reflexes to thank for being able to swiftly remove himself from the angry Gryffindor’s path in time.

Someone’s tetchy, he thought, one tawny brow edging above its twin in puzzlement as he turned to watch the other boy’s incensed departure.

But then Jude did round the corner. And suddenly it made sense.

Comprehension made his lips quirk almost instantly.

“Enchanting people with that sparkling personality of yours, are we?” he wondered idly as he approached the waiting Sebastian, mirth casting a knowing gleam across his green gaze. “You charmer, you.”

Sebastian was clearly too worked up to pay much mind to this ribbing. Or maybe just too used to Jude pulling said ribbing on a near day-to-day basis for it to even faze him much anymore. Or both.

Probably both.

“Can you believe that pompous arse said he was too good for my sister?” he countered instead, scowling slightly in the direction Beechwood had run off to.

And just like that Jude lost the smirk.

It was instinctive; a force of habit these days whenever the subject of Calleigh came up around Sebastian. And probably a terribly unsuccessful one, at that. While his expression determinedly tried to affect an air of unaffectedness (which, really, does that ever work out well for anyone? Ever?), his brain simultaneously took that as its cue to sound the alarms and demand that he ‘act cool! act cool!’ Or at least the way he used to act whenever Sebastian had brought up his sister in the past.

Of course, it didn’t help that Jude had trouble even remembering how he used to act back then. Before all… this… happened.

It would also help if he knew, definitively, what ‘this’ was.

Well. Alright, that was only partly true. He knew one thing quite definitively, and that was that he no longer considered Calleigh as merely “Sebastian’s sister” anymore. She was simply “Calleigh” now, no longer attached in his mind to his best mate. An entity unto herself.

Which was problematic for obvious reasons. Namely the whole ‘actually, no, she is attached to your best mate, because there’s this thing called blood, see, which exists so brothers have solid, incontestable reasons for beating up any previously-trusted friend who might stupidly decide to fancy their sister’ thing.

And that was pretty big thing, really. A pretty worrisome, unignorable, unbelievably big fucking thing.

Thus turning into Mr. Smooth Criminal whenever Sebastian so much as breathed a word about his dark-haired sibling. Merlin, no wonder he wasn’t a bloody Slytherin. He was awful at this.

Not that the alternative was even a remotely possible option at this point. For some reason, something told him things wouldn’t go over all that well if he suddenly said, “Hey there, Sebastian, you know how we’ve been friends for years and trust each other with our lives and have that whole Bro Code thing going on? Yeah, well, I just thought I should let you know that it’s pretty bloody likely that I might possibly fancy your sister.”

Honestly, he might as well just skip that part and go straight to, “Would you like to kill me now, or later?”

Smooth Criminal it was.

Fortunately for Jude, an irritated Sebastian also made for an extremely unobservant one. He was still glowering at nothing in particular, likely imagining future scenarios in which he painfully acquainted David Beechwood’s face with his fist for daring to besmirch his sister’s name.

“He’s lucky that…” he continued ominously, but the words tapered rather quickly off when what sounded like a small stampede erupted directly behind Jude out of nowhere.

Judging from the caliber of the ungodly racket, it was either a crazed wildebeest or Silas Matthews.

Somehow Jude wasn’t really all that surprised to discover that it was, in fact, the latter.

What did surprise him, however, was the abhorrently violent shade of orange his noise-control-challenged friend had managed to turn himself.

He looked like the goddamn sun. Honestly, Jude had to avert his eyes after a couple stunned seconds. Which only helped to an extent. Every time he blinked there was still a vague Silas-shaped outline behind his lids. The lunatic was literally blinding.

“So, I had this idea…” said lunatic began without preamble, leaning casually against the nearest wall as though nothing about this situation was out of the ordinary in the slightest. Perhaps it wasn’t.

Still. Jude’s retinas were burning off.

“Did this idea involve jumping into a vat of radioactive cheese puffs?” he asked with a grimace. Only half kidding. The prat was, after all, practically fluorescent. That couldn’t be healthy.

"It's all gone a bit Pete, mind you; orange wasn't on the agenda."

Ah. So it was an accident. That was surprising. Jude actually would have bet good money that Matthews had done it on purpose because he felt like the color “obviously brings out the green in my eyes, McFadyen, sheesh, get with it, would you?”

Clearly, he was mistaken.

Undaunted, Silas beamed at them. Literally. And somewhere beneath all the UV rays, there might have been a big shit-eating grin. It was hard to tell. "I've come to break you lads out for a drink at the Hog's Head,” he announced proudly, hands on hips like some smug Muggle superhero. Or one of those really cheesy characters they put in ads directed at small children. Vitamin C Man! Here to tell you about all the fun, nutritional ways you too can grow up to be big and strong just like me!

Silas grinned at them expectantly. “What say you?"

Brow raised, Jude exchanged a glance with Sebastian that their orange friend clearly interpreted as a warning sign his motives were being called into question on suspicion of sheer insanity.

He was right.

"I know what you're thinking,” Silas was quick to cut in, withdrawing his wand and affecting a completely unnecessary high-pitched tone that did not sound like Jude or Sebastian at all, thank you very much. “'But Si, there are a dozen people here to witness our grand escape!', 'Silas, the professor will know we're missing.', 'Don't be stupid, Silas, sequin looks horrible on you.' But you know what fellas? I've got an answer to each one of your concerns."

Jude calmly raised a hand. “Is imbuing copious amounts of alcohol going to have any adverse effects on your troublingly altered pigmentation? Because that’s one of my concerns.”

Naturally, it went blithely ignored. Silas was far too busy turning his attention on the rather large group of students huddled outside the Charms classroom – who Jude only just now realized had been silently gaping at the three of them ever since their friend’s colorful entrance. It was easy to forget how off-putting the eccentric Slytherin could be when it came to people who didn’t know him that well. Silas was the sort of bloke you really had to take in small doses at first.

So… Jude sympathized.

“I have been sent with an urgent message from Headmaster Reynolds,” Silas informed the crowd with what would have been an impressive amount of authority had he not been colored such an unfortunate shade of Day-Glo orange. ‘Course the manically flailing arms didn’t really help all that much either. “There’s been a terrible, catastrophic, cataclysmic, very bad thing that’s happened, and all of you have been dismissed from class.”

Not-very shockingly, they didn’t appear to buy this. One of Jude’s fellow Gryffindors even crossed his arms and shot Silas a flattened gaze. “Matthews—”

“Go now!” Silas erupted dramatically, making violent shooing motions with his gangly arms. “Go before you get ravaged by the rainbow saliva of the Great Pulsating Killerbug!”

What happened next is just proof that if you say anything crazy enough in a convincing enough manner – really sell the thing with that next-level, terrifying kind of lunacy – people will have very little choice but to believe you, because surely nothing that barmy could ever occur to a fellow human being’s brain otherwise.

Five seconds flat and the hall cleared entirely.

“Looks like we are free for a couple drinks.” Sebastian’s mild observation was the first to break the silence, and he turned to Jude with an anticipatory smile that easily matched the one already adorning Silas’ enormously pleased features.

Jude felt his own lips begin to war against a very Merry Man-like grin. “Suppose we are,” he agreed simply.

And that was that. No other words necessary. Besides, an afternoon free to budge off class and have a few Butterbeers with his mates wasn’t something Jude was likely to ever pass up anyway, if he was being honest, even if one of those mates probably did belong in an insane asylum.

Oddly enough, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, with a shake of his head and a slight chuckle, Jude set off after his friends down corridors they’d traversed about a thousand times before, hardly even needing to look where they were going in order to find themselves standing before Henry the Hideous Hobgoblin's familiar statue.

Only a very select few individuals knew that this hidden passage existed at all, and even fewer knew how to actually gain access to said hidden passage. Many a student, upon hearing rumors, had tried every spell they could think of on poor old Henry, but the castle had a habit of getting a bit testy when you tried to magic away its fixtures (a lesson Jude learned the hard way back in Second Year when a sconce attempted to choke him for stealing it off a wall once). Needless to say, their efforts usually didn’t end well.

Obviously this wasn’t even an issue for the adventuresome trio. With an ease borne of years of experience, Silas, arriving first, performed the top-secret ritual of entry on their old friend Henry (two fist-bumps and one finger up the left nostril, they’ll have you know), and with a very satisfying sound of stone grating against stone, a square-shaped hole slowly appeared on the ground before them. The way was clear.

One after the other, they hopped nimbly into the open passage, landing on their feet in a long dirt tunnel just wide enough for three. When the light above them disappeared and the statue returned to its usual place, Jude automatically reached for his wand out of habit, but immediately realized he didn’t need it.

Which was confusing for about half a second until he remembered that Silas was glow-in-the-dark now. Thanks to him, the passage was impressively well lit.

“Wow,” Jude couldn’t help but comment, taking in the considerable distance the orange light covered with no small amount of awe. “You know what, I take back everything I said before. This is actually really bloody helpful. You should just stay orange forever.”

Merlin knew they came down here enough.

Lumos charms. Pfft. Who needed those when you had Silas “Sun Flare” Matthews?

“I think I can see China.”
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Silas Matthews
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Lord of the Dance

It was easy to know when he had his friends hooked. Sebastian’s face lit up in that devilish grin that got him into so much trouble with the ladies. And Jude’s lifted eyebrows and tilt of the chin were a dead giveaway. Silas won. He closed his eyes at the glorious sound of their agreement.

“Looks like we are free for a couple of drinks,” Seb said lazily just before Jude added in, “Suppose we are.”

It was as simple as taking the piss from Slant. A few ‘arghs’ here and a bit of flailing mania, and Silas had nabbed one day with his best mates. A trouble free flight off to the Hog’s Head for a pint. Or twelve.

Henry the Hideous Hobgoblin had never looked so lovely. There were far too many bad days that Si had to put behind him and this glorious statue symbolized everything that he needed at present. Freedom. Good times. A day with mates and no female hormones. The lads. The bollocks. A night on the piss and perhaps at the end of the evening a little bit of swashbuckling hoopla to satisfy their thirst for adventure.

“’ello, Geez,” Silas mumbled to Henry, immediately lifting his fist to the statues marble hand and bumping against it in a very familiar manner. While Henry was distracted with the fist bumps Silas stuck his finger up the statue’s nose (a secret that the Merry Men had discovered by sheer accident the night that they’d attempted to save a little girl’s diary from the evil clutches of the Librarian’s chamber as she chased them down the hall with her wand waving spastically above her head. Jude had accidentally knocked fists with statue after Sebastian had slammed them forward due to Silas’s awkward and sometimes uncontrollable feet catching the heel of Sebastian’s shoe. And Silas’s finger had jammed right up in the stone nostril. The night had ended rather lavishly with drinks at the Hog and laughter).

Once Henry moved himself from the hole in the wall, Silas thanked the motionless stone and jumped from the cement of the Hogwarts wall down to the earthy path below. He moved forward quickly, allowing room for his mates to enter without tackling him down to the ground. It wasn’t until he heard the scraping noise of the statue moving back into place that he noticed the tunnel was not quite the same.

His skin seemed to shine with a tangerine glow that bounced off the walls and provided light for a mile ahead of them. Bloody useful that was. Shame he didn’t have a knack for remembering Charms very well; this would come in handy as a spice-up in his relationship with Bella. ‘Oh, darling, you’ll be very happy to know that my bits n’ bobs all glow in the dark. Like Colonel Cockadoodle’s Condoms for Careful Chaps, without the feeling of plastic-burn.’ Or – and this one made his face light up in a manic grin, not noticing how extremely dazzling his teeth appeared against the luminosity of his skin – ‘You’ll notice, my love, that I appear to look like magical fruit and I promise you that there’s a very tasty filling…’

If he kept on that train of thought the night would get far too weird.

“Wow.” Jude’s voice distracted him. He whipped around to see what his friend was so stunned about, but then noticed that he had discovered the very same thing. Magnificent orange light guiding their way. “You know what, I take back everything I said before. This is actually really bloody helpful. You should just stay orange forever. I think I can see China.”

While the lilt in Jude’s voice betrayed nothing but jest, Silas couldn’t help but not emphatically in agreement.

“Right. I was just thinking the same,” he said eagerly, his tone not indicating anything apart from sincerity. “Do you think I should motion for Orange Rights? Could be the next multi-billion galleon idea, you know.”

He began walking down the tunnel with his friends in tow, arms moving around as he continued his increasingly perfect money making scheme.

“Imagine this: we use this spell on thousands of people while they sleep and then bog down the Ministry with letters detailing there was some kind of rebellion of the house elves in Hogwarts and now we want recompense for our suffering. We could make a fortune.”

His right foot caught under a root – happened every bloody time – and as Silas was stumbling, he gripped onto the wall for support. It didn’t stop his tirade, however. “Or, I could perform at parties. You know, like they have those astronomy birthday parties for kids. Instead of showing them a bunch of stupid stars that people have convinced themselves are patterns, I show up as the sun. The sodding sun you guys. That alone has to be worth a few bob.”

The mile passed extremely fast. Trick root here, crumbling bits from the top of the dirt tunnel there. Bing bang boom (mostly from Silas, or because of Silas) and they were nearing the end of their journey to the Hog. Probably another couple dozen feet to go. All he’d managed so far was a scratch above the eye and a tingling sensation in his right pinky toe. Not too shabby considering.

But then, they were drenched in darkness. And with the darkness of the world around him, Silas heard all of his dreams disappear in a whirl of fading whispers. He was no longer bright orange, or glow in the dark. Just another average bloke with normal skin tones and a gangly frame. His head fell forward, dejection smeared across his features.

His plans were ruined. Dismally, he joined his two comrades in lighting the tips of their wands and continued forward silently, mulling over his too-short existence in the realm of naturally splendiferous money making ideas.

All those poor children without the chance to see the sun. It was devastating.

“This always happens,” Silas sighed, childishly clinging to the thought of his dreams and everything he wanted getting taken away from him. “Just when things start to get good… snatched right out of my hands.”
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Sebastian Bancroft
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Following his mates lead, Seb jumped nimbly into the passageway that Henry’s hulking stone frame had been hiding. The passageway had was very familiar territory for the trio. They probably spent more time in here than they did in class. Yet, despite the familiarity, there was something definitely off. Sebastian couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. At least, not until Henry slid soundly back into place. Seb already had his wand in hand to light their way but the dirt walls seemed to radiate in a mysterious golden light.

It was then that he realized the source of the light was, in fact, Silas. Honestly, he should have known. A grin lit his face even before Jude spoke.

“Wow.” Jude’s mirthful tone was laced with a fair amount of genuine wonder. And with good reason. It wasn’t every day your best mate acted as a human torch. Although, it was Silas Matthews they were talking about, so it happened far more frequently that anyone would guess.

“You know what, I take back everything I said before. This is actually really bloody helpful. You should just stay orange forever. I think I can see China.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Seb muttered good naturedly. Jude should know that Silas rarely needed encouragement for these types of things. Though on more than one occasion a tiny bit of encouragement had resulted in some rather spectacular displays.

Like the time during one of Yule balls, a simple comment from Seb about the dead bird on Shaw’s head somehow led to Silas resurrecting the damn thing. Shaw’s infamous peacock hat had come to life with a deafening squawk that only paled in comparison to the professor’s ungodly shrieks.

Of course, Silas had performed this impressive feat of magic while the Shaw had been wearing the bloody thing. It had been utter mayhem. It was like the old bird had begun to molt, and the peacock wasn’t in great shape either. Sebastian was fairly certain he’d never seen the deputy headmistress quite so enraged. The only reason that the lot of them weren’t still in detention was because Reynolds stepped in and told Shaw that fifty years of punishment was a bit much.

“Right. I was just thinking the same,” Silas began in a tone that belied just how serious the lanky fellow really was. “Do you think I should motion for Orange Rights? Could be the next multi-billion galleon idea, you know.”

Sebastian cast a side look at Jude. He arched brow and flashed a rather resigned kind of grin at his Gryffindor friend as if to say ‘Do you see what you started?’. Silas, however, was a few paces ahead and completely oblivious. As they continued to walk, Seb ducked his head under a low hanging root and began to count in his head.

Five

“Imagine this: we use this spell on thousands of people” Four "while they sleep and then bog down the Ministry with letters" Three "detailing there was some kind of rebellion of the house elves in Hogwarts" Two "and now we want recompense for our suffering. We could make a fortune.”

One

Silas tripped over the same root that got him every single time. Seb chuckled softly in the slowly dimming light.

Wait… why was it getting darker down here? He glanced up to their human nightlight and realized the poor fellow was losing his shine and he hadn’t yet noticed. Seb pulled his wand out to, prepared to cast a lumos charm when needed.

“Or, I could perform at parties. You know, like they have those astronomy birthday parties for kids. Instead of showing them a bunch of stupid stars that people have convinced themselves are patterns, I show up as the sun. The sodding sun you guys. That alone has to be worth a few bob.” There was a short pause. It was then that the poor lad realized that his day glo orange hue was almost gone. He looked down and his shoulders stooped slightly. It was like watching a child break his favourite toy. “This always happens just when things start to get good… snatched right out of my hands.”

“Chin up, mate.” Seb cast a quick lumos before he jogged a few steps forward and slid his arm around the taller lad’s neck, bringing Silas into a loose headlock. A mischievous grin lit Seb’s face as he tried to tease Si out of his downhearted mood before it could settle in. “Besides Bella doesn’t seem like the kind of bird who appreciate that particular shade of orange. You’d have clashed with her entire wardrobe.”

“C’mon lads, first round’s on me.” He called out as he opened the door to The Hog’s Head. Stepping into the poorly lit basement, Seb put away his wand and led the boys up the rickety old stairs. As they entered the establishment, Roddy looked up from the glass he was cleaning (Seb used that term loosely) and grinned at him and Jude, then something unusual happened. Roderick’s eyes darkened as Silas stepped into the room.

“Out!” His gravelly tone shouted out as he roughly set the glass on the bar. He moved toward Silas with a fierce determination. The glass seemed to balance precariously on the very edge of the bar before giving into gravity. The shattering noise was drowned out by the old man’s angry words. “I already told you that you were not welcomed back in my tavern. Out! Now!”

Seb had never seen the old barkeep quite so agitated. His eyes moved from the older man to Silas, who managed to look a bit chagrinned. Sebastian was at a complete loss as to what may have happened between them to get Roddy so worked up.

Sebastian shared a puzzled look with Jude, who wisely corralled their lanky friend off to a quiet corner while Seb turned his attention to the irate bartender. He and Roderick had always gotten on quite well, but the man was in no mood for idle chit chat. Seb lifted his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he approached. Roddy ignored him completely as he headed for his wand, which was always stored by the cash register.

“Roderick? Roddy? C’mon, mate, let’s just talk things out a bit first.” He stepped behind the bar to cut the older man off from his wand. It would definitely put a damper on things if Silas were killed before they got their first sip of alcohol. Seb kept his tone light and chipper. “What’s going on, old man? I’m sure we can work it out.”

“That bloody idiot, there, is what happened.” Roderick seethed, his eyes darting over Sebastian’s shoulder to keep a watch on Silas. (who, to his credit, was sitting rather meekly across from Jude). “Cost me an entire night’s earnings in poker the other night. Lyin’, cheatin’ bastard!”

“You played poker with Silas?” Sebastian raised a disbelieving brow at the man, now leveling a murderous glare at him.

Everyone knew that Silas was something of an idiot savant when it came to cards. He won. All the time. Yet somehow he seemed to do it legitimately. Sebastian and Jude had spent so many hours over the years trying to figure out how he did it, yet despite it all, they could never find any evidence of cheating. It was ridiculous.

“Alright, calm down, old fella,” Seb placed a hand on Roderick’s shoulder and grinned down at him. This was something they could work around. Losing to poker was one thing, but if the barkeep ever found out about all of the firewhiskey the three of them had nicked over the years, he’d likely be a little less forgiving. “Relax, Roddy. Before your old heart, what’s left of it anyway, gives out on you.” Sebastian said with a cheeky grin.

“Bancroft, get that lad out of my sight before I ban the lot of ya.” Roddy’s anger had ebbed somewhat in the few short minutes since the three of them had stepped inside.

“C’mon, Roddy, who will buy your watered down ale is we don’t come back? You’d lose half your clientele if you banned us.” Sebastian continued to joke with the man, trying to bring tension down even more. “What if Si gives your money back? And you promise not to play cards with him again?”

His eyes met with the wary glare of the barkeeper who seemed to mull over the idea for a few long seconds before nodding slowly. Sebastian’s face lit up into a broad grin. “A round of drinks on me!” He called out jubilantly. The two other patrons of the bar looked up from their spotted mugs to cast suspicious glances at him. He cast a far too chipper grin at them as Roddy poured the drinks.

Sebastian pulled out a small brown pouch of coins and slapped down enough to cover the drinks. “How much did Si take you for?”

“A hundred galleons.” Roddy said bitterly, sending one more narrowed glare at Silas.

“A hundred gal…” Seb started before casting a knowing look at the man. “There is no way you make a hundred galleons a night here, Roddy.”

“Fine,” Roddy admitted with a sly grin of his own, “It was twenty but you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Seb muttered as he shook his head with a laugh before counting out twenty galleons and tossed them onto the bar. He grabbed the three mugs of ale and headed back toward his friends.

He set down the drinks before dropping into the seat beside Si. Best to keep him caged in a bit, lest he decide to go make amends with Roderick himself. The boy would likely make a pig’s ear out of the entire thing. And then they’d all be banned.

“Poker? Really?” Sebastian asked his mate as he took a long sip of his ale. A barely contained look of exasperated amusment lingered in Seb’s eyes. It’s just the way it was with Silas. You couldn’t be friends with the bloke for this long without expecting the odd spot of trouble. “You owe me thirty galleons, mate.”

What the hell. The first round should have been on Silas anyway.
Edited by Sebastian Bancroft, Sep 28 2011, 01:18 AM.
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Jude McFadyen
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A smile edged Jude’s lips when his blithe comment was all it took to make Silas’s brain go supernova (granted, a fairly common state where Silas’s brain was concerned, but the thematic appropriateness made the achievement especially entertaining this time.) And thanks to the manically waving arms, he didn’t even have to see the other boy’s expression to know that it had lit up with pure, mad joy at the terrifying smorgasbord of ideas sparking through his head just then (again, nailing this theme here.)

It also sent crazy patterns sliding up and down the walls of the tunnel making it feel, uncannily, like they were walking through a kaleidoscope, which Jude had to stifle an amused snort at. Only Silas could take you on a hallucinogenic trip just by being in his presence. He was like the human version of LSD.

"Don't give him ideas," Seb muttered at his side. Much too late.

“Right. I was just thinking the same,” Silas's relevantly sunny voice filtered back at them from further down the tunnel, arms gesticulating wildly. “Do you think I should motion for Orange Rights? Could be the next multi-billion galleon idea, you know.”

Jude was about to suggest he just open up a tanning bed business instead when Seb eyed him like, see? and anyway, it didn't matter, since Silas was already off to the races again.

“Imagine this: we use this spell on thousands of people while they sleep and then bog down the Ministry with letters detailing there was some kind of rebellion of the house elves in Hogwarts and now we want recompense for our suffering,” he steamed on excitedly.

“We could make a for—”

Wait for it.

“—tune,” he finished, stalling only when he managed to trip on the same root that had had it out for him since the first time they’d come down here. Jude was convinced it was connected to the Whomping Willow somehow. Silas could probably climb Everest and that tree would find a way to fling him off the top of it.

To his credit, he didn’t let it kill his momentum – just righted himself against the wall and kept on keeping on like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough, his tongue a springboard for every syllable. “Or, I could perform at parties. You know, like they have those astronomy birthday parties for kids. Instead of showing them a bunch of stupid stars that people have convinced themselves are patterns, I show up as the sun. The sodding sun, you guys. That alone has to be worth a few bob.”

It would also provide others with a very helpful red (or in this case orange) sky flare of warning preceding the storm that was Silas Matthews, but Jude deemed it better to withhold that bit of information, albeit with a poorly stamped down grin.

Currently, it was enough to merely navigate the narrow tunnel without the use of their wands, which proved useful in avoiding the usual roots and dips and stray hanging clumps of earth. It was cooler down here: the damp, musty air smelling of dirt and loam and adventure—a path so familiar they really, in all likelihood, could have traversed it without any light at all if they truly needed to.

And in a magnificent display of the Universe’s impeccable cosmic timing, that was the exact moment Silas’s glow snuffed out like an abruptly extinguished candle flame.

Darkness. Jude could practically hear the dejected slump of his friend’s shoulders.

He winced a bit, flicked his wand and—yep. Silas was devastated. He looked like a kicked spaniel.

“This always happens,” he pouted, dragging his feet like a toddler who’d just been told he couldn’t go down the slide anymore. “Just when things start to get good… snatched right out of my hands.”

Jude and Seb shared a commiserating glance. “Chin up, mate,” Seb said, consoling their miserable friend with an arm slung bracingly around his drooped shoulders. “Besides, Bella doesn’t seem like the kind of bird who appreciates that particular shade of orange. You’d have clashed with her entire wardrobe.”

“Mmm,” Jude hummed in agreement. “Plus, you won’t have to worry about small objects gravitating towards you anymore. Or the occasional tide.”

See that, silver linings all around.

“C’mon, lads, first round’s on me,” Seb grinned, hauling open the creaky, old door signaling they’d finally reached the Hog’s Head. The basement was the same as ever, filled with dusty bottles, barrels, broken chairs, and, bizarrely, an oven so ancient that cooking on it would have qualified as a historical re-enactment. The three of them bypassed all of it on their way up the equally ancient steps that led them straight into the pub itself – also the same as ever, with a grumpy looking Roddy there to greet them and everything.

Alright, greet was probably a strong word. Roddy wasn’t much of a greeter. He was more of a ‘shoot you a dismissive glance before spitting unwelcomingly on the floor’ type of guy, but really that just meant he liked you.

“Out!”

Unless, apparently, you were Silas Matthews.

His toe had barely breached the doorway before the word exploded from Roddy like a bullet. A hostile flush had overtaken the older man’s features, the glare he fixed on Silas dark and full of contempt.

“I already told you that you were not welcomed back in my tavern. Out! Now!”

Silas, meanwhile, had frozen in place like a frightened, woodland creature that’d been spotted by a predator.

Roddy tended to have that effect on people.

Still, he’d never been this angry before. What the hell had Silas done now?

Jude exchanged a bewildered glance with Seb before they wordlessly agreed that Seb needed to go do some serious damage control. This was the last place in Hogsmeade that still tolerated the three of them ever since Jude had gotten permanently banned from the Three Broomsticks (even though everyone knew bar fights were the traditional form of bar-going recreation, and none of them had even technically been his fault, plus he’d offered to pay for all those tables, honestly.)

Grabbing Silas’s arm, he redirected the dark-haired boy to a table as far away from the barkeep’s wrath as they could possibly get, making sure to sit in the chair blocking him from view just in case. Unfortunately, that still left them pretty conspicuously out in the open, since the only other patrons in the tavern at the moment were Ulrich, a perpetually soused regular, and Bernard the Vampire (who was harmless. And a right laugh, actually – you should see his Dracula impression.)

Thankfully, Seb seemed to have things marginally under control. Roddy was merely making noises behind the bar that sounded like a combination of a Nazgul and a rabid wolf instead of marching towards them for some good old fashioned Avada-ing. Jude watched for a moment before hiking a tawny eyebrow.

“Blimey, you should have just stayed orange, mate. He might not have recognized you.”

Doubtful, but it would have been worth a shot. They could have tried to pass him off as an American.

Although, if there was one thing Roddy hated more than Silas, it was Americans. Never mind. Bad idea.

Turning back around (although not before his stare caught momentarily on something jammed into the wall near the entrance – was that a harpoon?), Jude fixed his gaze on Silas again, who was unnaturally stiff in his chair and appropriate in pallor for someone who’d made Roddy so angry steam was practically coming out of his ears.

Jude couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Matthews, relax. You’re making Bernard look like he’s just come back from holiday in Bermuda.” It was like the orange had taken the entirety of his remaining pigment with it when it left. Jude leaned forward on his elbows, a touch of amused sympathy warming the voice he continued with. “Look, whatever it is you did, it can’t be that bloody awful, alright? And anyway, if we’ve got to make a run for it, just give me the signal and I’ll distract the old goat until you can get past the door.”

At which point, Sebastian’s hand came down between them to clank three sloshing mugs of ale on the table’s surface.

“Poker? Really?” he asked Silas dryly, shooting him a long-suffering look as he dropped into the seat beside them and grabbed one of the ales like he desperately needed it after the conversation he’d just had. “You owe me thirty galleons, mate.”

Now that Jude hadn’t expected.

“You actually got Roddy to play poker with you?” he asked, his right eyebrow winging upward and betraying appreciative surprise. Roddy was, after all, notoriously stingy with his money and therefore usually utterly impossible to rope into any game in which there’d be a possibility of losing it. He must have thought Silas was a guaranteed win.

Poor bugger. Jude almost felt sorry for him.

With a sigh, he reached for the mug nearest him, raising it high as if in one last, deferential toast.

“Well. Better enjoy these, lads, since they’re probably the last ones we’ll ever have here.”

He couldn’t even be mad. Silas had achieved the nigh-unachievable.

To hell with supernovas, if that wasn't going out with a Big Bang, Jude didn't know what was.
Edited by Jude McFadyen, Feb 28 2017, 11:37 PM.
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Silas Matthews
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If he wasn’t losing his magnificent orange glow, then Silas was losing the sudden diamond-encrusted grill he’d accidentally ‘cursed’ into his mouth, or the webbed footing he’d gotten from a hexed batch of gillyweed, or the actual gills he’d grown from a trip in the forest, or that one time, when he may have actually been stoned from an explosion of knotgrass, that he’d managed to change one-quarter of the way into what could be assumed was his animagi form: a baboon.

That last one hit him hard. Swinging from trees would be so much easier.

Alas, all of the good things came to an end.

Such was life.

C’est la vie.

Bollocks.

“Chin up, mate,” Seb’s unfalteringly bouncy tone called out to him. Silas grimaced, still wallowing in self-pity, but it was short lived. As soon as Seb’s arm crooked around his neck, Silas couldn’t help but light up; the Merry Men always knew how to keep his spirits up. “Besides, Bella doesn’t seem like the kind of bird who appreciates that particular shade of orange. You’d have clashed with her entire wardrobe.”

A frown pulled Silas’s lips down, dejection set in his shoulders once again. Bella loved oranges. Why she wouldn’t want her boyfriend to resemble her favorite fruit, Silas would only be able to hazard a guess: he’d be entirely irresistible, and they’d be expelled from Hogwarts for indecent activity ‘round the school. Sure, that’s what he was going with.

“Mmm,” Jude seemed to read his thoughts. “Plus, you won’t have to worry about small objects gravitating towards you anymore. Or the occasional tide.”

Well, there was certainly one small object he wouldn’t mind gravitating towards him. Two, as a matter of fact. He brought his hands up to his chest in a cupping gesture and glanced down at them with an appreciative glimmer in his eyes.

Silas’ mood significantly improved at the thought.

“C’mon lads, first round’s on me,” Seb announced as he arrived the trio to The Hog’s Head, jarring Silas from the very twelve-year-old-boy thoughts he was currently entertaining. Probably the only thing that could pull Silas from thoughts of his girlfriend’s ample –

“Out!”

Shit. Silas winced, hands moving from their pretend-cupping of imaginary breasts, to palms-out surrender. Honestly, there was no dueling Roddy. Man was a menace. Except for when it came to poker. Or beer pong. Or, actually, anything you can win money from while on the piss. Roddy had an excellent run during their game, just was a shame about those pocket aces in Silas’s hand. Shoddy luck, Roddy. Shoddy Roddy. Silas opened his mouth to make a good natured jest, to open the lines of communication beyond the bar owner’s eyes that were clearly cursing Silas with their most powerful ‘Avada Kedavra” thoughts. But, the beanpole boy knew better than to test his luck where Roddy was concerned, and snapped his mouth shut at the same time the old fellow exploded.

“I already told you that you were not welcomed back in my tavern!”

Silas paled. His hands fell to his sides. Gods, he’d gotten banished from the last place the boys could hide when the rest of the school was doing dull things like homework and studying and chess. He wanted to defend himself, or at least explain to Roddy that the other two didn’t have a hand in his well-timed quad aces (he really, really tried to not to look alight with a cheeky smile – he failed, of course).

“Out! Now!”

“Bu-“

He didn’t have a chance to get the apology out of his mouth, or to protest the bartender’s orders to leave. Jude had gripped Silas by the elbow and steered him away from the bar, away from the booze, away from what was bound to be a deadly encounter between Silas and the business end of a wand. And Silas had a sneaking suspicion that Roddy knew some curses that could make The Unforgivables look like Tickling Charms. As he allowed Jude to move him across the room, Silas caught Ulrich’s gleaming, bright blue eyes following the pair across the dusty floor. Ulrich lifted his round chin in a nod before his face smacked into the plank of wood that Roddy passed off as a table.

He sat down opposite Jude, fearful to let his eyes stray from the passed-out drunkard’s bald patch.

“That bloody idiot, there, is what happened.”

Silas’s back tensed, shoulders hunched, fingers gripping the smooth end of his wand just in case Roddy got any funny ideas about murder.

“Cost me an entire night’s earnings in poker the other night. Lyin’, cheatin’ bastard!”

Swallowing thickly, Silas turned his gaze from Red-Faced Rod to a much more pleasant, but still cautiously surveying the scene, Jude. “Blimey, you should have just stayed orange, mate. He might not have recognized you.”

“That was the plan,” Silas mumbled in such a low tone, it was easily drowned out by the combination of Rod’s shouting and Ulrich’s snoring.

Jude’s huff of a laugh couldn't draw Silas’s gaze from the bar. He had to be ready, slender fingers gripping around his wand even tighter now. Just in case things went arse-over-tit, he'd at least protect the Merry Men, and Bernard (because Bernard and Silas had a deal; shit ever goes south and it's Bat Country for Silas, and Silas was never going to let that back up plan go).

“Matthews, relax. You’re making Bernard look like he’s just come back from holiday in Bermuda.”

Jude was using his Calming Voice, like he did the one time when they'd accidentally released all of the Hogwarts Thestrals and had to corral them back to the stables. It was all ‘Don’t worry, young stallion’ this and ‘your mane is shampoo commercial worthy’ that.

Bloody things just canted right the hell back into the stables, didn't they? Oh no, the twelve rounds of galloping that Silas had done with the Thestral alpha to establish dominance had nothing on Jude’s equestrian flattery techniques. And, as usual, Sebastian was keeping the Care of Magical Creatures professor busy by explaining that, once again, Silas had fallen in love with the Giant Squid and ‘we think he might need a lobotomy’ was tossed around for the umpteenth time.

“Look, whatever it is you did, it can’t be that bloody awful, alright? And anyway, if we’ve got to make a run for it, just give me the signal and I’ll distract the old goat until you can get past the door.”


“Er…” the sound left Silas like a long note from a creaking door. How often did the phrase “can't be that bloody awful” and Silas coexist?

Pretty much never.

He was tempted to give the signal. Had his free hand cupped next to his mouth already, preparing to holler out the Official Merry Men Call of Distress, and then:

“Poker? Really?”

As Silas halted the screech that threatened to drown the pub, a sheepish grin overtook his lips.

“You owe me thirty galleons, mate.”

Silas was about to argue that, in fact, he owed Seb negative five galleons because of the expensive bribing it took to keep Professor Gibbons from actually sending him for a magical lobotomy after Silas had to feign love for the Giant Squid (okay, he could have left out the bit about an excitement for its suckers, but still.). But then:

“You actually got Roddy to play poker with you?” Jude’s surprise yanked Silas from the very real schooling he was about to give Sebastian, and replaced the indignant glare in his eyes with cheeky mirth.

He leaned toward Seb, nudging their shoulders together. “Give me five minutes and I'll have your galleons back, plus interest for sorting out Shoddy Roddy.”

Silas positively beamed (and was even able to ignore the fact that he wasn't beaming an tangelo glow) as he straightened up, pride swelling the smile on his lips. He swiped at his mug and immediately mimicked Jude’s lifted drink.

When everyone's attention was turned, he tapped his fingers twice on the side of his mug, as if secretly signaling an attack.

“Well. Better enjoy these, lads, since they’re probably the last ones we’ll ever have here.” Jude tilted his mug back and the other boys followed suit.

“Here, here,” Silas agreed, ignoring the slosh of beer that splashed onto his shirt. “But, I think Bernard has us covered.”

Silas nodded his head toward the bar, where Bernard was having a low conversation with Roderick. Roderick appears lost in a trance, eyes taking on a strange glazed-over look. Silas appreciated him then, a constant force of good in an otherwise hopeless world filled with angry blokes who hated losing coin to the chaps with luck.

“Good bloke, that vampire,” Silas commented just as Bernard turned to face the trio.

His lips were lifted in a pleasant sort of smile, careful to hide his fangs (he probably knew how uneasy it made folks who liked to keep their blood internal). Silas completely missed the pale complexion that had replaced Roddy’s previously crimson face.

“I think we should invite him over,” Silas’s voice was it's usual chirpy tone. He was just grinning back at Bernard, feeling particularly chummy with the bloodsucker that day. Before either Sebastian or Jude could question his decision, Silas shot up from the table and raised his mug-laden hand to Bernard. “Come for a brew, my liege.”

Bernard floated (it was pretty similar to floating, graceful enough to call floating) to their table. His beady, black eyes took them all in carefully before he chose the empty seat next to Silas.

“Are you finally prepared to join me in eternal life, Silas Matthews?” Bernard’s velvet voice broke the silence at the table.

They really only had eyes for each other.

It probably seemed very disturbing. Silas’s big, round puppy dog eyes unrelentingly staring into the fathomless depths of Bernard's. Until, Silas craned his neck, exposing the tanned, vulnerable slope of flesh to Bernard’s hungry gaze.

Bernard leaned in. A chair scuffled backwards. Hot breath fanned Silas’s neck. Everything was shockingly quiet. Eerie.

And then, finally, a high-pitched cackling laugh punctured the silence. Followed almost immediately by Silas’s own laughter. Both of them straightened out, Silas’s eyes bleary from the pools of mirthful tears that threatened to spill from them. Straight up cackling from the pair of them. Bernard hissed out a “my liege” between fits of giggles.

Thirty galleons dropped into Silas’s open hand, and he immediately slapped half of them enthusiastically in front of Sebastian.

“Five minutes, plus interest,” he informed his mate between breathy laughs. “You should have seen your faces! And you!” Silas pointed at Bernard, guffawing again. “Eternal life.”

Silas’s voice began to fade into its normal, still buoyant with life but not careening with laughter, tone. “Merlin, I can't wait to be a vampire.”

“Roddy lost that coin fair and square,” he added to Sebastian, as if that explained everything.
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