Peacocks were a worthless useless animal. They were only there to look at. The females a dull colour while the male had all the colour. The ones his gaurdian's husband owned were more then useless. They were for a show of wealth and vanity. As one neared, Silas quickly stepped backwards away from it, hands coming out of the pockets of his leather jacket as he did so to keep balance.

Spinning on his heels he ran from the birds with a smirk on his lips. He liked to annoy them amd run away. One almost caught him last time. They were getting quicker. Or smarter. He laughed as he ran along the grounds out distancing them.

Coming quickly to a stop he nearly stumbled. Catching himself just in time he stood tall and proud if cautiously. He had seen the woman's picture in The Daily Prophet. His eyes stared wide and searching, drinking in every detail. Fear, anxiousness, doubts,giddiness, other things he couldn't even begin to guess he was feeling were all jumbled up. Swallowing thickly, he kept his eyes on her knowing better then to look away.

This was the woman who swore allegience to the Dark Lord long before Silas was born. The one who tortured the Longbottoms to a vegetable child like state. Who went to Azkaban for fifteen years. A Death Eater in the Inner Circle. Murderer of her own cousin. His mother. And this was the first time he was meeting her that he could remember.

Bella had put off the meeting for too long. She knew this. But she did not know what to expect. The last time she had seen her son was before Azkaban, and though prison had changed things about her, being a mother wasn't one of them. Just like back when she had given birth to the boy, she still did not know how to be a mother.

Oh, she had learned all the basic things like feeding them and whatnot. But caring for them, and loving them, that was where she could be found lacking. Bella was far too selfish a person to truly love anyone else. And caring about anyone just made you weak. At least in her eyes it did. At first, that was all she had seen her son as. A weakness. A liability. And she had wanted as little to do with him as possible.

Over the last few weeks, however, Bella had called on her sister Narcissa, who had hinted that something needed to be done about the boy. Bella had taken into account how Narcissa spoke of her own son, Bella's nephew Draco. Could clearly hear the hint of pride in her tone. And she had seen for herself the way her nephew adored his mother. It was not something so obvious as a hug or a statement of 'I love you'. That was not the pureblood way, even if such things were ok in complete privacy. No. It was in the respectful tone and manner he addressed his mother in. In the way he looked at her, as if she alone held the answers to the universe.

At first, it made Bella laugh. And she had teased her nephew relentlessly, and somewhat maliciously. But upon closer inspection, Bella knew she was just the slightest bit jealous of her sister. How it must feel to have that kind of adoration! That kind of blind trust! Bella knew however that this was something that was developed over years, not days. And Bella was not sure she wanted to invest in something like that, but she knew that she had to invest something. Because she could not just ignore the fact that she did have a son. And no matter how much she pushed the thought of having that kind of relationship with her own son to the side, she couldn't remove it completely.

It had taken quite a while and quite a few torture sessions to come to the conclusion (and admit it to herself) that in this particular goal, Bellatrix was her own worst enemy. She did not posses the softness that Narcissa did. The delicate hand, or motherly affection. This was not part of Bellatrix's character. Nor was it in her character to be a friend. Friendly and Bellatrix just did not go together. So Bella had decided on taking a mentoring approach. This was something she knew without a doubt she could do. And she knew it was the correct approach.

She could teach the boy. And train him. And in that gain his confidence and trust. Without too much trouble on her part. Because at the very least, Bella knew that now that he was becoming closer to being of age, the Dark Lord would expect him to join his ranks, and Bellatrix would not be having any member of her family destroy what she had worked so hard to build. She would not be made a fool of by her own son, that much she would make clear. She saw too many death eaters pay for the mistakes of their children, and she would not be one. And maybe, just maybe, the would prove himself useful, and gain her even more favor from the Dark Lord.

Ever the Slytherin, Bella was.

But Bella had not planned on finding her son, now fifteen, running around the grounds of where he currently resided, chasing Peacocks. And what in Merlin's name was the boy wearing? Bella narrowed her dark eyes on the sight as he came to a sudden halt before her. She noted with a small sliver of satisfaction that he at least stood tall and proudly before her, and looked her in the eye. He may be a Lestrange by name, but there was definitely Black in his blood.

"Hello Silas." Her voice rang out disdainfully. Clearly, she had a lot of work to do. It did not make her happy.

The obvious disapproval was like a whiplash that almost had him wince. First his guardian then others later taught him to try and master his emotions. One thing his guardian had quickly and cleverly found out was that he reacted much more to disappointment and disapproval then anger and or a hard hand. Anger, harsh words, threats, they didn't work. It was those disaaproving loks and words. Disappointment, shame, to stir up guilt. All this he felt now as his mother gazed at him. Looking him over, sizing him up, and that he had come up lacking.

"Hello, mother." It came out thickly from a dry throat and repressed emotion. Knowing better then to fidget, for a Pureblood and one of class did not fidget. He settled for jutting his chin out as he refused to break eye contact.

Swallowing again as the anxiety and fear resurfaced. What would she think or say when she learned he was not a Slytherin but a Ravenclaw? He was sure that her response would not be one of pride. If she were to learn that the hat waffled between the two and he had chose the latter over the former. His marks while not impressive, were within the top ten.

"It's good to see you." In person was not spoken aloud. His unspoken questions stayed just that for now.

Bella watched her son's reaction carefully, though she gave the appearance of one barely interested. The sound of his voice confirmed her suspicion. Emotion. Hateful things they were. And something one of their status was taught from the moment they began to walk and talk not to show. Bella could almost hear her mother telling her to show too much emotion was to show weakness, and weakness was not to be tolerated. It was one thing to feel things. One could not stop themselves from feeling. But to show it in any way, was not to be tolerated.

Bella quickly decided to let it slide for now, however. They were alone, not in front of anyone, so it was harmless. Except for deepening the disdainful look in her eyes. Not to mention she thought it was probably normal for a child who has not seen their mother in fifteen years. Probably. She could not know for sure, but Bellatrix did know a little something about playing nice to get results. Nice was not in her arsenal of weapons, but she considered letting the slip slide nice enough, even if it did leave her with a bad taste in her mouth. And she was certain that doing it would help her in the long run. She was also certain the boy better start counting his blessings.

So instead, Bella focused on the boy's words. She allowed him a rather sinister smirk, tilting her head and observing him through the corner of her eye, as if hoping to catch him lying. "Really?" Her voice was calm, almost bored. Another look of disdain wiped the smirk away as her lips curled instead into a sneer while she gave him another once over. "And I suppose it's so good to see me that you felt greeting me in this...muggle attire" she spat the word as if it were the utmost disgusting thing, "was in your best interests?"

Her dark eyes narrowed on him, as if daring him to lie to her as she continued to question him haughtily. "I dare say this is what you learn from Ravencalws?" Her voice caressed the word softly, emphasizing it in a deathly way.

Any hope he might have had that any part of this wouldn't end badly were quelled immediately by the look he recieved. He wished he could take back his words, once more reminded of a lesson. That once something was said it could not be unsaid. Words were a power all their own. That he had learned through observation.

Silas was usually described as quiet and introverted by muggleborns. He had found though that by being quiet and observing people he learned quite a bit about them. It was a skill he learned by watching his gaurdian's family. Envy, jealousy, resentment; they too were learned, lodged in a small part of his being. A larger part that took up a great deal of room was loss. The feeling of being lost. Always an outcast in his own family. Wondering about the parents that were in Azkaban. That he had heard stories of.

Never having had a mother before, he didn't know what one was like. Silas wasn't sure if they were supposed to bring birds of prey to mind. The woman in front of him scared him, the feelings coming from many directions. Fear of disappointment. Fear of being rebuffed. Of many things of which death was not included. It wasn't from a misconception that he might be safe because of familial or even blood connection. She had proved it meant nothing when she snuffed out her cousin's life. Silas believed that she would think it beneath her to kill him.

A predator that struck quick with its claws indeed. Silas was a Lestrange as well as a Black. Pureblood and elite, they were not prey even if he felt as if he was under his mother's biting words. While he wanted to step back, avert his gaze, he would not. Not only because he wanted to prove his worth, but because he hated to lose. To admit defeat would leave a taste of ash. The hurt was quickly shunted aside. Before he could collect something to say, she delivered the second attack. The brief widening of his eyes betrayed his surprise.

She knew. She KNEW. SHE KNEW! How had she known? It wasn't as if they received the post while in Azkaban. While she was out? Before or after the Ministry fiasco?

A bit of hurt anger had him square his shoulders. What had made him fear and deny the obligation and yoke of Slytherin for Ravenclaw was what spurned his desire to dress in muggle attire. Control. It was something that gave him a choice. There was a certain kind of freedom in it. It was that feeling, the giddy uncertain feeling in your stomach. The one you got that had you thinking you were taking a huge plunge. It pulled a half smirk, half grin to his face.

"Not at all, mother. They taught me the value in having one underestimate you on preconceived ideas." Knowing he was playing with fire didn't stop Silas. Mayhap it came from either or both sides of his family tree. "There is the added factor that my attire offends and irritates Lucius and the others."

Bellatrix didn't have to look closely in order to see the boy's surprise, no matter how brief it was. He was no doubt shocked she had discovered so much in the short amount of time she had been out of prison because he had no idea that she had had visits with Narcissa, who had clued her in about many things. But her elation at his surprise only lasted a moment as he squared his shoulders and made his reply. All thought of an easy win were quickly tossed aside.

Though Bella didn't doubt for a moment that he feared her, simply because she knew any son of hers could not be that big of a fool, she could see the stubborn set of his jaw. If truth be told, he reminded her a lot of herself at his age. Except at his age she had not had the repulsive need to dress in muggle clothes. But she could remember a fair few times when she had let loose with her mouth a little with her mother. Though she had paid dearly for it, she had also felt a small satisfaction, and a sort of rebellious freedom.

Bellatrix was no fool, and was not as old as to have forgotten what it was like to be young. And pureblood. It was not easy, nor was it always fun. Especially for a child. She could remember that now. There were lots of rules, and rules about rules. And rules about everything. Not to mention he was a Black, and they were notoriously known for their stubborness, among other traits. So she could understand, to an extent, her son's reaction.

But just because she understood, did not mean she would allow it.

Faster than one could blink, Bella had her wand moving swiftly through the space between them, sending a not so mild stinging hex at the boy, sneer in place. "Consider yourself lucky you are my son, otherwise it would be more than a stinging hex I send your way." She couldn't help taunting him though, in that haughty tone of hers. "It is too bad your Ravenclaws couldn't teach you something useful. Like a shield charm."

The boy would learn his place, whether he liked it or not. To be pureblood was to be born to privilege, and with that came specific obligations. The boy would learn his privilege was that he was considered the best. To be held in the highest regards. That he was above everyone else, present company and the Dark Lord aside. His obligation was to uphold that place, that standard, and reputation. And to bring nothing but pride to those considered above him.

He would learn, because she would teach him. There was nothing else for it. Even if it meant sending something stronger than a stinging hex next time. With that being done, Bella unworriedly turned her back on the boy, heading towards the ridiculously extravagant manor. "Come Silas. I have something for you." The witch called out in that same bored tone. She did not bother to check if he were following her. She knew he would be. He clearly had a death wish if he wasn't.

There was a thrill of fear of having spoken such a rejoinder. The knowledge that he would likely pay for such lip did not take away the pride he felt at saying such words. He had spoken without stammer, flimsy excuse, or made a fool of himself. Silas had stood and given as he had gotten. Even with punishment it wouldn't take away that he had won. Even if it was slight. It was still his. And it couldn't be taken away.

The giddiness still ran rampart through him along with the fear and anxiousness. Pride and a savage satisfaction of not cowing and not allowing a total victory to his mother. Any smugness he felt was taken from him, Silas barely was able to recognize the white light before it hit him. When the jinx collided with his chest he was unable to keep from making a sound, propelled back a step. His hands came up to his chest as he dropped to one knee. It hurt! There was a tightness in his chest, burning, and he was sure that if he were to look, there was bound to be a mark.

Anger burned within him as he dared to once again meet his mother's judging eyes. A sneer came to his face as she tried once again to ridicule him. His eyes narrowed as he tried to keep the burn of humiliation and bitterness away. Anger was what he allowed through, cheek muscle twitching. He would spit out an acerbic reply. If she knew about him being a Ravenclaw surely she knew they were always sent home letters to remind them that they weren't to use magic over holiday?

Standing, Silas had to say he was very curious and apprehensive in equal measure. He daren't allow any happiness or surprise show, let alone hope. Nor did he allow himself to feel such things. There was no telling what the mad woman had in store for him. It could be anything, even another punishment for his choice in wardrobe.

Obediently Silas followed his mother, resisting the impulse to rub at his chest. That would be showing weakness. Showing he had lost. There would be no sympathy or pity shown to him and he would not accept, ask, or want either of those. As they walked, Silas studied how his mother moved. It was different yet similar to how his gaurdian moved. Her gait was unique.

Curiosity bubbled inside and wanted to burst forth. Silas wanted to ask the woman so many questions. He knew that they would not be answered just as suredly as he knew that he would face his mother's wand for such audacity. Licking his lips he was unable to keep all hia questions at bay. One slipped forth, "Will you be staying?"

What he really had wanted to ask was what would become of him now? Was he to stay with his guardian? Was his.mother going to be living here as well? There were many more questions but he was sure some of them would be answered if he was patient and kept his ears and eyes open.

"For the time being." Bella answered curtly, feeling no need to add anything further. Her wand hand twitched, anticipating another question from the boy. She had no patience for being questioned, as she was rarely questioned in her actions by anyone else. And those who did found themselves on the end of her wand before they could finish the question.

However, she allowed the one question, knowing he must have many more. Even she would admit that if it were her on the other end of the situation, she'd have dozens. But that was as generous as she would get. And he could be grateful for that. The entire situation was full of too many unknown variables, which had Bella feeling the slightest bit uneasy. And when uneasy, Bella could be dangerous.

She found she felt the slightest grudge of respect form towards the boy, as he followed her into and through the manor. Anyone else would have reacted in either anger or humiliation to what she had done. Letting their emotions get the better of them. Even the almighty Lucius and his precious son would not have taken what she dished out silently.

The witch glanced sideways at her son as she led him down a hallway. He must be angry, Bella was sure of that. Anyone would be after being hit with a stinging hex. Though it could've been worse. And he could have protected himself. Unless he really did not know a shield charm. In which case Bella would be utterly disgusted. Looking away as she opened a door and led him into a sitting room, she decided she would get to the bottom of that soon.

Not bothering to turn to look at Silas, Bella called upon a house elf for tea, her voice dripping with disdain. She never had liked house elves, lowly creatures that they were. She did not respect them, but she had to admit they made life easier. Finally, she rested her dark eyes on the form of her son, gaze unreadable. "Sit." She commanded, tone clearly indicating she would not be tolerating anymore of his apparent sense of humor.

Behind the woman's back, Sikas' head gave a short nod. Something plummeted in his stomach that he would rather not examine too closely. He hadn't dared to hope for anything. Whether the hope was she would stay or go he hadn't a clue. To be able to wish for something one had to be able to dream. That was something that Silas had stopped doing for quite awhile. Its cause could be attributed to his insomnia.

More questions stemmed from the one he'd asked now that it had been answered. When she left was he to go as well? Would he be left here? Was he to go somewhere else? How long was 'awhile'? One couldn't assume that one person's awhile was the same as anothers. The pain in his chest gave reminder to exactly whom he was asking such demanding questions.

As he entered Malfoy Manor, Silas' posture subtly changed. His shoulders and bacj which he normally allowed in a slight hunch straightened. His strides matched in an even gait, while his head and chin lifted the tiniest fraction. Hands that were usually stuffed in pockets were at his sides. A stray thought crossed his mind. Silas wondered if that was why Lucius had his cane, aside from the obvious.

It was within these walls that Silas would have to wrap any and all confidence he had about himself. Holding tightly to any and all of even the tiniest win. They were what kept him company and helped him keep from showing anything that could be used against him. Victories that might seem inconsequential to anyone else but meant the world to him. They were what shielded him.

Stopping a meter beyond the threshold he watched his mother. She was at home anywhere it seemed. She owned wherever she happened to be. As she called upon a house elf, Silas remembered when he'd returned after first year. Hearing about how they had lost their house elf. Silas had wanted to laugh but had kept his mouth shut and excused himself from their presence. Looking at the one that likely came from another branch of the family, Silas found he'd come upon a realization.

Snapping his eyes to his mother's feeling her gaze, he kept his new understanding to himself. That urge was back. The one that caused a rush of adrenaline and let him know he was on the precipice, wanting nothing more then to step off the lege. To drop into the unknown and enjoy the rush while it lasted. His streak of defiance as his gaurdian would say, was baring its teeth at the comand.

'Of course mother, but shall I sit at your feet like a dog or well trained pet? Or am I allowed to sit upon the furniture like a real boy?' That was what was wanting to tumble sharply from his mouth. Lips thinning, cheek muscle twitching, Silas stampped down on it as he sank down into an armchair. He did not want his mother teaching him another so called lesson. Depriving her the pleasure of the feat caused him a tad bit of his own.

Blood could not be denied nor could the years that such emotion was left to fester. So in a rare allowence with a bit of vengeful spitefulness, "I'm sure this place has nothing on the accommodations of Azkaban."

At the reminder of the prison which had held her, Bella's eyes flashed dangerously, her face contorting frighteningly as her lips pulled back in a silent snarl. Her long dark hair seemed to crackle with the energy that was her anger. She eyed the boy who was her son with dark, hallow pits for eyes, seeing not him but the dementors that had haunted her both day and night for fifteen years, and in that moment nothing more than the darkest thoughts filled her as a coldness fell over her. In that moment, she looked truly insane, and this only heightened the aura of danger that seemed to surround her at all times.

The witch had only enough of her right mind to remind herself not to kill the boy, as the denial of another member to his ranks would displease her Lord. It was then, with the reminder floating to the forefront of her mind, in which the house elf unfortunately reappeared. Unfortunate for the house elf because it was the elf that ended up bearing the full brunt of her anger.

"Crucio." It was little more than a whisper, spat out in a voice shaking in its fury, and the unsuspecting and undeserving creature fell in the unbearable pain the curse, which had been firstly intended for the boy on the couch, created within it's body. Bella had not even given a thought to grab her wand, but in reflex had grabbed it,  so suddenly as though it had appeared there.

Her eyes gleamed in their hardness as she watched the twitching and contorting form of the elf now writhing on the floor as she held the curse with ease. Her attention switched to that of her son, watching his reaction and face. It was this which made her even more frightening. There were few people who could hold such a curse without much concentration, if they could perform it at all. And the Unforgivable she now displayed required both extreme intent and concentration. It was this known factor that made her the Dark Lord's most dangerous follower.

After a few minutes more Bella regretfully ended the curse, mainly because she did not want to explain to her sister that she needed a new house elf. As the elf continued it's twitching even after the curse had been lifted, Bella gave it one last look of disgust before calling yet another elf to remove it from her sight in those exact words which did nothing to cover her obvious anger and disdain. The elf didn't hesitate in vanishing with the other,  obviously not wanting to bring her wrath upon itself for delaying.

Bella was not one to give warnings before she exacted anything she dished out, but she would make one exception for the boy who was her son. Bringing her hard and furious gaze to him, she delivered the only warning he would get from her in a deathly tone. "If you ever speak to me in such a way again, that will be you. Do you understand?"

The tingle of fear turned to outright primal terror as the woman shifted and changed. That was the only word for it. Gone was the barely sane woman that had met him outside. In its place was the Dark Lord's most faithful follower. The one that had gladly tortured the Longbottoms. That had gone to Azkaban proudly. The woman who installed instant terror to grip your heart and sweat to form upon your brow and body.

Unable to break the eye contact Silas dared not move. As it wad he was sure that he could already feel the hand of death reaching out for him. He had stepped over the line allowing his teenage emotions get the better of him. It was a very stupid thing to have done on many counts. As a Pureblood he should be above such petty things. As a Ravenclaw he should have known better and allowed his mind to dictate his actions rather then his emotions.

When his mother's wand was in her hand faster then he could blink, he was sure he was going to feel her wrath. Blood kin or no, he had to keep in mind that this was Bellatrix Lestrange. First and foremost she was a Death Eater. It did't matter that she had given birth to Silas. That was far down the consideration ladder. When he wasn't hit with the curse but the unfortunate house elf guilt, relief, anger, and something else just as ugly twisted and bloomed within him. The fear was still as present as ever keeping him from moving. His dark eyes stayed glued to the elf as it contorted. Silas wanted nothing more than to look away and clap his hands over his ears. The shrill painful cry was almost overwhelming. Instead, he forced himself to swallow. To keep breathing. To not allow anything other than his initial fear to register.

Refusing to breakout in a cold sweat he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. She was watching him. He could not back down or lose. He wouldn't! At the same time he was still only fifteen and as twisted as it was, still saught to not disappoint. He already had failed and come up short upon first impressions. Growing up in Malfoy Manor he had come accustomed to seeing the old house elf punished. Forcing that to the forefront of his mind he shoved the sick feeling to the back. It didn't matter that this was the first time he was seeing the curse preformed. Or that it brought to mind the Longbottoms.

Silas almost almost allowed his Ravenclaw curiosity get the better of him. His stoic mask slipped just the tiniest bit to reveal his interest. He had leaned forward slightly as the curse had been lifted but the creature continued to spasm as if under the influence still. Getting ahold of himself, he quickly put back up his mask and sat back in his chair. That was until he met his mother's unforgiving eyes. Even he could tell that this had been a once in a lifetime warning. That he would not receive another one. Ever. Swallowing back his fear he stiffly nodded. Conflicting emotions warred as he let gruding respect leak through as he replied, "Yes, mother. I appologize for my inconcideration."

Having taken out her anger on the house elf, Bella calmed enough to allow her son a curt nod at his response of understanding her warning. However, she could not or would not hold back the sneer as she moved across the room. "I should think you would be smart enough to know when it is in your best interests to stay silent, especially since intelligence is a Ravenclaw trait." She halted in her stride, her poise was pureblood perfection and she sent him a cruel smirk. "Maybe for all their so called intelligence, the house of blue lacks common sense?" She mocked his sorted house, making a joke of the thing they most prided themselves on.

This was a trait of Bella's which she had learned early in life and which could not be undone. Making a mockery of people and the things they prided themselves on, loved and/or cared for was a sure way of getting under their skin. This tactic was a weapon Bellatrix had been born with in her arsenal. It had many uses. And she wielded it as expertly as she did her wand.

The witch took the time to allow her dark eyes to study Silas. He may be a Ravenclaw, but there was no denying the undeniable Slytherin traits about him either. Oh she had noted the curiosity in him as she had tortured the elf, and one could best believe she would hone in on that at the most opportune time. But there was also the calculating look in his eyes. The sharp tongue. And though it may be a bit brash or bold, Bella could see with the right teacher, Silas had potential. Maybe even more than his snotty cousin, Draco.

All of this ran through her quick mind within a matter of mere seconds, yet on her face was look of measured mild interest. She knew it was the first time she showed anything other than anger or disdain for her son since this little reunion, but she did not worry about it. It could only be considered natural on her own part to show some interest in her only child. Besides, who would dare question her on it anyways?

"Narcissa tells me you enjoy Quidditch." She suddenly changed tactics. It wasn't a question but a rather disinterested statement, giving off the impression that she had become bored with the boy. But it was clear from her glance that she expected clarification either way.

Anger surged through the teenager as he was once again bilittled. He had come to the conclussion that this would be the norm for the interactions between the two of them. His mother mocking, dismissive, and insulting. For Silas it was to be a test in patience, control, and he was sure that the woman expected respect and courtesy. His silence, for him to be compliant, and obediant. Patience and control he could tolerate. Respect he could feign as well as obedience. Courtesy and etiquette had been his food and drink since he was but a toddler.

Through narrowed brown eyes, Silas gave a sneer as a response. He knew when to hold his tongue; mostly. He was still a teenager and prone to vent his repressed emotions and speak without thinking at the most inopportune times. All Silas had been thinking about was making the woman hurt as he had. To inflict harm as she had upon him be it verbal or otherwise. As most teenagers did he wanted to win. Against an adult the victories were even sweeter.

Here though was not just any adult. This was someone he had to constantly be on guard around. Giving into petty emotions would be a dangerous past time. All the conflicting emotions wanted to erupt but Silas would have to shelve them. Accept that he may never untangle them all.

The change of topic threw the boy off balance for a moment. Gaze studying the woman as if trying to see if this was a trap to ensnare him deeper into disgrace. Was there anything,behind the question? What would she gain from his answer? It couldn't be something to be ashamed of. Draco played quidditch, Lucius had even bribed the team into taking the Malfoy heir. So perhaps it was something else?

Knowing that a verbal answer was required he cautiously replied. "She is correct. I attend the games at school. Which matches were allowed," he ammended wondering where this line of questioning was going.

Bellatrix watched impassively as her son fished for any idea as to what the sudden change in topic meant. Again, she felt a slight and grudging bit of respect as he seemed to have came to the right conclusion.  At least he had some common sense, yet how much he had was still to be seen. For now she merely watched his reactions, ready as she always was for something to pounce on, and never giving away the nature of her true thoughts.

Bellatrix knew he would never put two and two together and guess that what she had for him was Quidditch related. She sneered after his words, and for once it was not due to the boy himself but in utter disdain for how far the School had fallen. Not even being able to enjoy a Quidditch match anymore. She conveniently forgot many, if not all, of the issues which arose that forced the cancellation of the matches were directly linked to her Lord and his followers.

While in thought, Bella nodded curtly to the boy, and waved an unenthused hand, indicating a long, thin package which had been set on the piano bench behind him. "That's for you." Was all she offered him in her equally bored drawl.

Unsure of what he had said that drew the sneer to the woman's face, Silas went over his words. Maybe it was because he was only an observer rather then a participant? Eyes widening in curiosity and surprise, followed the gesture. Silas turned his head before standing. Going over to the pianno his heartbeat sped up. His mother had gotten him something?

Glancing back at the woman who looked as if she could care less about whatever his expression and/or reaction would be. Swallowing thickly, his fingers yearned to yank the wrapping away. This would be his first present from his mother. Happiness, hope, giddiness, nervousness. Those were all squashed with curiosity and nervousnes staying. This was Bellatrix Lestrange.There was no telling what lay beneath the innocent looking wrapping.

Cautiously, his hand went out to unfold the paper. It shook the tiniest bit bringing a frown to the teens's face. Shaking his hand as he stood straighter, Silas opened his gift. He had braced himself but ultimately he could say he was unprepared for the actual object in front of him.

Breathing halted as he stared in awe. A broom. His mother had gotten him a broom. One of the very brooms he had seen on display at the quidditch store. It took a moment for him to get himself under control so he kept his back to his mother until he had.

When he had, Silas turned and gave his mother a quarter of a bow to show how appreciative he felt. "I thank you mother for bestowing me with this gracious gift."

The witch merely watched out of the corner of her eye as her son approached the piano, and gift. Bella smirked as she could practically taste the emotions warring within him. Again, she would give leeway this one time. It was becoming painfully more obvious he needed to keep a tighter reign on his emotions, but Bellatrix was also aware that there needed to be some balance between them, and so she only sneered slightly, otherwise keeping her face impassive.

One might never have guessed that her patience was wearing thin, but the longer he took to turn to her, the more impatient she became. Honestly, you give a child a gift and they only give you their back in return. She was just about to send a curse flying at that back when he turned, thanking her for the broom and showing his utmost gratitude. Well. That was better. She silently slipped her wand back up her sleeve, now aware she had been fingering it beforehand in anticipation.

She rolled her dark eyes at him, smirking once again in almost predatory way. "I would look at it more as incentive." Technically it was a gift. But there wasn't anything wrong with giving something to get something either. And the look she sent the boy clearly stated that she fully intended on cashing in on that.

"However," she added on before he could say something that would undoubtedly get him crucio'd. Not that she would mind cursing him. But she wanted to get his gift giving over with. It made her uncomfortable. "If you're going to play the game, it's only proper that you be equipped with the best." She explained in an impatient voice, leaving no room for questioning. "Also," she added on, and this time, for the first time, she showed the most normal human trait she had shown in fifteen years. She sent him a conspiratorial smirk. "it's to make sure you knock that prissy, spoiled cousin of yours off his broom and on his arse."

Who ever said the witch didn't have a sense of humor?

Swallowing as he stared at his mother, Silas now felt locked into having to actually try out for the house team. It would mean if he was accepted, playing against his cousin. That had its merits. Pros and cons that he would think about later without his mother's accessing gaze upon him. It was something he wasn't sure that would be a good or bad thing. It was chafe at his want of freedom and choosing what he did or did not do while at school. It would take away some of his freetime. On the plus side, if he made the team he would have accomplished something that he'd been yearning for. His mother's approval. He would be doing something that hopefully would have her feel at least a tad bit of pride towards him. It also offered more pressure that was placed upon him to try to live up to her ideals. Or his ideas of what her ideals for him were.

"Of course mother," was the reply. Nothing was ever free. 'Gifts' were more or less bribes or as the woman had stated incentives to see your way towards the gift giver's ideal. In actuallity it would have shocked the teen if his mother had so freely given him such an extravigant gift without strings attached.

The woman's sense of humour had the boy stare for a fraction before he quickly flicked them away lest he get a lecture for his lack of control. He could hardly be blamed though could he? When was it that unless torture, maiming, or some other kind of heinous act was not the subject or cause of Bellatrix Lestrange's good mood?

"I shall be sure to ensure my placement upon the team and that we win our matches."

Bellatrix watched him watch her. It was interesting and oddly satisfying to actually see the calculating going on his mind. She couldn't read his mind, but she could guess easily enough. His face didn't give much away unless you knew  what to look for. It was as if every thought and emotion was written on his face with the need of actually showing it. Bella wondered if this was one of those mother things. Like when you did something wrong as a child and your mother just knew it, or when she could hear you from two rooms away when you were whispering.

She gave him a curt nod, all humor gone. She had had about enough of this awkward reunion for one evening. Back was her sneer of disdain only this time it wasn't for Silas. "Make sure you do." She commanded as she headed to the door. "I need to see your Aunt before I return to report back to the Dark Lord. I hear she's been in quite the state since Lucius was put in Azkaban." This seemed to cheer her up a bit because a crazed smile graced her face. Bella really couldn't stand Lucius Malfoy.

She met her son's eyes for a brief moment before turning her back to him and walking out. This was all she could offer the boy at the moment so he would either learn to deal with it or run before she could kill him.

Giving the woman a nod, Silas felt himself relax as she left. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Swallowing again he nearly slumped to the floor. His legs which had locked now wanted to give way now that Silas wasn't under scrutiny. Dropping lightly to the pianno bench, he blinked and turned around. Finger tips touched the broom as the corners of his mouth twitched.

A present or bribe, or incentive, or whatever you wanted to call it. It was his and it had come from his mother. Something that could have been happiness floated about him. Standing, he grasped the broom. It would not do for him nor the broom to be here when his mother came back. Quickly he went to put the present away to try another day. Hopefully when his mother's critical eyes were not on him.