-Clink-, the ice in the sweaty glass shifted as it melted and shrank. The condensation droplets slid down the ignored glass to seep into the equally forgotten newspaper. The owner of both wore a troubled anxious frown. For all the attention he paid to the hustle and bustle around him, he might as well have been sitting alone amongst a deserted street. His mouth moved but only because hw was biting at the lower left inside of his lip. His dark brown eyes were out of focus unseeing while his thoughts occupied all of his attention.

Ever since the breakout of Azkaban, Silas had been following The Daily Prophet obsessively. His reading the paper had begun a year before he started at Hogwarts. It had been an offhand comment from his gaurdian that piqued his curiosity and slight fear. To quell his fear and sate his curiosity he began a subscription at the different papers. After his first year during the basalisk attacks, Silas had began to wonder. There had been no mentions in the papers at all. None of it all.

The papers that summer were rife with news about Sirius Black. Once again after Potter, who seemed to be the epicenter to all these occurrences, had dealt with the situation the papers were mum on what exactly happened. It was as if all anyone cared about was that their DADA professor was a werewolf. Sirius Black was again at large but that wasn't news since his presence at Hogwarts hadn't been leaked.

The year before was the triwizard tournament. That had been exciting until Potter showed up with a dead body in tow. Nothing in the papers save for conflicting testimonies and people on both sides of the fence concerning Potter. Then this last year with that aweful Umbridge woman and her decrees. It had been a challenging year in more ways then one. Then towards the end of the year the nasty woman had a nervous breakdown. Of course Potter and a handful of others were the cause. The papers had no choice but to print what happened at The Ministry of Magic.

Fear and axiety seemed to have become a permanent companion. It was lodged tightly inside refusing to leave. Not even reading that his father, uncle, and many others had been recaptured eased it. Some were still at large in hiding. Voldemort being back with his old army returning to him was a fact. One that couldn't be ignored.

The brooding Ravenclaw was brought out of his thoughts when he fingers snapped in front of his face. Startled, he had naturally jerked his head backwards, the hand that had been resting atop the forgotten paper bumped his glass. Clumsily he tried to,catch it, but his movements were jerky. -Crash- the glass shattered sending the small left over ice cubes skittering.

Sitting upright, Silas fixed the interloper with a blank look. It wasn't his gaurdian. "Lucky that drink was on neither of us," was his dry comment before a bit of irritation and curiosity leaked through. "Do you always greet people this way?"

"Only when the other person is daydreaming and doesn't hear the actual greeting which was stated three times." Hermione responded in an annoyed tone. "And it's lucky for you I didn't just dump the contents on you." The bushy haired Gryffindor wasn't usually this frustrated, but the earlier run in with the Slytherin had put her in a rather bad mood. Normally levelheaded, the brown eyed witch looked shocked at her own attitude. She attempted to make amends. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you to spill your drink." She quickly apologized. "It's just, well, I did attempt to get your attention a few times before resorting to snapping in your face." She defended her actions.

"Then I appologize," was the reply. He hadn't been payong attention it was true. His thoughts had been consumed with unanswered questions, emotions, and hope nots. "And I am greatful for your restraint."

To go about unable to cast magic to rectify easy fixable mishaps was rather annoying. Such as the broken glass. Something so easily fixed and they had to have an adult do it because they were just shy of being of age themselves. Being covered in a sugary drink would have been really unoleasant. His gaurdian would feel no pity nor help him if he were to show up in that condition.

"Why did you want my attention?" Genuine puzzlement showed in his expression and voice.

Hermione nodded in acceptance of his words, even if a bit taken aback by the quickness in which he apologized to her. Following his gaze to the broken glass, the witch frowned but looked around. "I wonder if they have a broom around..." She trailed off, shaking her head. Of course they wouldn't. The only brooms in the wizarding world were for Quidditch use. Not cleaning. She tried to think of how to clean up the mess she created without the aid of either magic or a broom, while answering the boy's question. "You're sitting in front of the chocolate frogs." She supplied automatically.

Chocolate frogs? Twisting around Silas found to his surprise that he had done exactly what the witch had said. When he had caught sight of the headline of the paper, he had sat and begun to read it searchingly. Forgetting his surroundings or that he might be blocking someone. Standing, he moved aside, squatting to pick up the pieces of glass. Dropping them onto the newspaper he balled it up and held it.close to his waist as he stood.

"You actually eat them?" he asked incredulously.

As the boy moved to pick up the broken glass and wrap it in the newspaper he'd been reading, the bushy haired witch grabbed quite a few chocolate frogs. She moved around him carefully so as not to step on any glass, lips pursed together as she stacked the treats in her hands. If only they could use magic. She had always thought that was a ridiculous rule. Any idiot, even Crabbe and Goyle, would know better than to perform magic in front of muggles, unless absolutely necessary. So why did the ministry enforce the rule that kept them from practicing what they were taught at school? Especially when said school gave them summer homework?

Hermione dispelled the thoughts in favor of sending the boy a rather wry grin. "You actually read that rubbish?" She looked pointedly at the newspaper now crumpled around the shards of broken glass, answering his question with one of her own. The chocolate was in fact, for Harry. Hermione knew he favored them.

Looking down at the paper that now held the remains that had been his drinking glass, Silas glanced back up with a small smile of his own. "Who's to say what is or isn't truth. I believe that is what you were implying?"

Silas knew that 'truth' was subjective. History was written by victors. Headlines were made by twisting the truth and coloring it. Or just sprinkle enough truth in a batch of lies to be believable.

Shrugging his leather clad shoulders he stated, "It appeals to those who like fiction and nonfiction."

"Those who actually know the truth." Hermione retorted almost bitterly. The Daily Prophet was a sore spot for the witch, who had been, back in her fourth year, targeted by one of it's writers, Rita Skeeter. And her opinion on the paper hadn't been very high because it was always drawing conclusions about Harry. Wrong conclusions usually. And last year it had mounted a personal attack on her best friend, and Hermione had taken it as personally as if it had been launched on herself. No. It had been clear to her for quite some time that the prophet existed only to report what it's writers felt would sell. Nothing more, and nothing less. It was absolutely and utterly rubbish.

Hermione had kept her own subscription and one reason only, and that was to keep an eye on Skeeter. Plus, there was something to be said for knowing thy enemies.

Trying to balance the mountain of chocolate frogs now in her arms, the witch shrugged. "To each their own I suppose. However, I prefer fact."

A half smirk of amusement came to the Ravenclaw's lips. "Truth to whom?"

Silas loved these kind of conversations. This was his element. Maybe it was because he wasn't allowed to really argue or say his mind when he was at home. All his bitterness, anger, resentment, and sharp tongue would bubble over to be vented on anyone unfortunate to be near. There was always a satisfaction of being right. Of winning. It was perverse but to Silas, this was fun.

"Until Magellan sailed around the world, it was fact that the world wasn't spherical." Giving the witch a challenging stare Silas pointedly asked as he gestured to his jacket. "Is it fact my jacket is black?"

The witch once again looked taken aback by his question, but rose to the occasion just the same. "The truth is the truth, no matter to whom." She stated matter-of-factly. Hermione had a great mind, having been told by more than a few people that she was the cleverest witch of her age. And it might have very well been so. She relied mostly, and some could argue maybe too much, solely on facts. It was maybe her one downfall that she mostly saw in black and white, and rarely saw the various shades of grey in the world. In truth, she probably had seen less grey before meeting Harry and Ron.

Her lips set in a thoughtful frown as her brain processed the boy's words as she prepared to respond. These were the types of conversations she might have enjoyed yet rarely was able to partake in. "Obviously, it wasn't a fact that the world was flat. That is what people chose to believe. Just because you believe something doesn't make it the truth." She argued. "And I would say that it is fact that your jacket is currently black, yes. Though it could very well be any number of colors, given the option."

Silas snickered at her presumption. There was no such thing absolute truth. It was very accurate that old saying. That truth was in the eye of the beholder. A half smirk, half grin graced his lips. At least the girl admitted that in a round about way, even if she hadn't realized she haf agreed with him. Waving hus hand not holding the paper, he stated, "Truth is subjective and easy to change." Becoming serious for a moment he added almost as an after thought. "Belief is a much different thing."

Eyes lighting up he again adopted the smirk/grin. Silas wondered if she realized yet that she was practically winning his arguement for him. This added to his enjoyment. "Really? As opposed to say blue? How do you know its black? Tell me that."

Hermione's slight frown turned into an irritated pursing of her lips when the boy began snickering, obviously finding amusement in her responses. She fought back an eye roll. Who was this boy anyways? He was terribly borderline cocky and she had to exhale to calm the irritation rising in her. "Truth is not subjective." She argued back. "It is people's opinions on what the truth is which are subjective, not the truth itself. For example," since he was so fond of examples, Hermione decided to give him one. "Last year it was many people's opinion that Voldemort being back was not the truth and just because it was their belief or opinion that him not being back was truth didn't  change the fact that the truth was that he did return."

The bushy haired muggleborn supplied an almost triumphant grin as she fired back with ease. "Clearly it is black and not blue or any other number of colors. As for how I know it is black is because it is the darkest color in the color spectrum, and while it could have very well been named blue or pink or any number of things, it's name's origin comes from many old languages and languages still in use which mean 'dark' and/or other variances of that same description."

Hermione couldn't help feeling she was winning this little debate and her brown eyes flooded with triumph over the other boy.

Momo walked in with a bunch of bags with four cats in it. She couldn't help loving the cats she is going to give for her home. As she notice two people talking. She couldn't tell if this is a store or a food place. She tried to open the door but couldn't and she put her stuff down and opens the door. As she pick up her stuff again. She saw Bellatrix's son i think it was. And those adorable hair style with busy haired.

She walk up to them and said, "Excuse me, Um is this a store or a food place. I'm Momo Sakura, 7th year Hufflepuff." She wanted know them if possible. She found a chair and sat next to them. "Could sit with you guys since i got loads with me." She added.

Oh, this was so much fun! Silas had always loved a good conversation or argument. Sometimes it didn't matter if he was on the right side or wrong side. What mattered was to see if he could win. That was sometimes the only thing that mattered. He rarely got to voice his opinions or try to get the upper hand in conversations at home. Could anyone blame him for doing so when he got the chance?

Lips still curled up in amusement he knew that it was likey neither one of them would win this arguement. Half the fun was trying though. Getting the other person riled and learning their viewpoint. If it happened to distract him from his worries and allowed him to be happy with a bit of carefreeness, all the more reason to indulge. "I don't see the difference. If the opinion is subjective and bias so is the 'truth' which comes from it."

Laughing with enjoyment as well the triumphant look of tje Gryffindor. It wasn't because he thought she was wrong or really laughing at her. It was the fact that he knew how she felt. The feeling you got thinking you had caught the other person. Cornered them and left them to fumble. Silas was enjoying this to much to bow out gracefully. There was the fact he didn't believe he was wrong too.

"Agreed. But," he stressed the word. "Who determined what words were assigned to what color? Yes, its black or dark. But if we were taught this was pink and someone came along who had.been taught yellow was black would say my jacket was yellow."

Shrugging he added, "And what of someone who is color blind? They have color association problems."

Silas attention was diverted to an older girl laden with bags and...cats in a bag? That brought to mind the old muggle nursery rhyme. He hd been brought up to be an example so he nodded his head at the geeting. Returning it he answered, "Silas Lestrange, Fifth Year Ravenclaw. And I believe it is both?"

Gazing questioningly first toward the gi he'd been arguing with giving a slight shrug before turning back to the Hufflepuff. A bit of his more morbid side emerged as he joked, "I hear cats taste like chicken. And their pelts make good slippers."

This was obviously one of those cases where no one would win yet neither party would back down and admit defeat. The Gryffindor witch believed with all her might that on this particular subject she was correct. Yet she knew there was no way to way to move someone's opinion when they were as stubborn as this boy was. Some people just had to learn the hard way. At this point, Hermione was rather frustrated with the boy. She had become so used to being right that it irked her to no end when someone refused to see reason. Yet she hardly made room for reason outside her own.

She might have debated further with the boy if they had not been interrupted by an older girl. It was probably just as well, since Hermione was probably likely to lose her patience anyways. She managed a small smile at the girl as she told the boy, "Perhaps we will just have to agree to disagree." For now. was the unspoken ending to that statement. The bushy haired witch turned her attention back to the Hufflepuff. "I don't mind at all. And it's a sweet shop actually." She answered, resisting the urge to smack the boy upside the head when he commented about the cats. Though the Gryffindor did have to admit it was rather odd to have them in bags, of all things. Hermione couldn't very we'll approve of this method, especially when she had her own cat, Crookshanks.

Oh so that's why. Hmm.. no wonder i don't pay attention. How stupid of me. I just knew it was a sweet shop. I really need to pay attention to these things it's really getting out of hand. She thought as she wrinkle her nose disgust about the cats he just said. "I don't think they taste chicken. But its really disgusting to imagine it. Nice to meet you Silas, nice name. What about you? Brunette. I know all slytherins calls you rude names I feel totally bad for you. I'm also a muggle and I disagree those names they so called..." She said sweetly. Momo dislike being called mudblood by Pansy Parkinson most pug face.

"So your a friend of Harry Potter, I presume you must be lucky to be friends with him." She grinned. She turn to Silas, "You don't mind if i join just not good at make friends at this hour." Momo asked the boy. She took out one cat out of the bag its more like the cat that the brunette has but the owner said it was a sibling to the cat. Which was a bit awkward but she doesn't care. Awh poor Siliva she is very quiet kitten. I wish my sisters was here to come in. She continue listen to their conversation.

Unrepentant, Silas just gave a mock sneer at the Gryffindor girl. It was his way of saying that this once he would go along and agree to disagree. For now. It would be plenty fun to pick up the argument later. Or start a new one. And he just gave a small half smirk at the reply about the shop. It could be both. It was to him since he'd brought his drink in and had made a seat of the boxes. Turning to the girl with the cats, he arched a brow as she stated she didn't think they tasted like chicken. He wanted to open his mouth and ask her if she knew that as fact because that was how it came out. However before he could the girl was on about Potter and it caused all his retorts to stall.

Disgusted that the conversation had turned that way and bored now, the Ravenclaw gave a tightlippped smile. Nodding his head at the two he excused himself, "Apologies, but I have to be going now. It was quite...educational talking with you."

An amused smile lit his face for the briefest of moments before he quipped, "Perhaps we could argue over distinction of words and phrases again sometimes."

Striding from the shop, he made sure to throw the scrunched up newspaper with the broken glass away in a bin.

Her ions half smiled back at the boy she now knew to be Silas Lestrange as she was unable to help herself despite her surprise at his name. It was a late catch for her especially since she was usually good at getting things the first time around. But these days Hermione had alot on her mind so she did a double take but bit her tongue when the Ravenclaw responded and took his leave. Hermione only nodded to him absently and thought she should be going to. She didn't have much incentive to linger any longer so she too offered her goodbye to the other girl and paid for the chocolate frogs before heading out the shop door and into the Alley. The Lestrange boy was fresh on her mind and she wished for what was the thousandth time that Harry was not ignoring her. This was information she knew he would want to know.