silas black had struggled profoundly when living alongside his biological kin—the noble and most ancient house of black. enunciated to merely being his biological relatives, because he insisted that his true family were the well-liked perrow’s. perhaps it was this belief that drove him to absconding 12 grimmauld place in the dead of night, leaving behind his beloved brother, rhydian arcturus black.

but silas had offered—begged—rhydian to accompany him, and when the younger boy had refused and instead pleaded for silas to stay, silas had turned his back and hightailed it to the perrow manor.

rhydian had seethed at this betrayal. as if the perpetual chip on his shoulder wasn’t already well established amongst whoever had the misfortune of crossing him, he now seemed to be eternally scowling—his lovely, aristocratic features contorted with an endless sneer of distaste. as though someone had presented to him a hippogriff that had shuffled around in a heap of thestral manure.

it was truly bewildering when a certain story passed through the school, first heard from a dissatisfied bastian crowe jr—the black brothers, silas and rhydian, had reconciled.

their brotherhood had encountered some significant changes, naturally. an entire year of a mutual cold shoulder and interactions limited to cursing one another was bound to impact their dynamic. they bickered as children would, to say the least.

it was the beginning of silas’ seventh year; the summer holidays had just came to an end and it was the first friday back. so far, silas and rhydian seemed ambitious to spend time in one another’s vicinity—bonding through pettifoggery.

“you know what you are?” silas exasperated, one wiry arm looped firmly around rhydian’s lissome shoulders. rhydian heaved a sigh and waved open the doors of the dining hall. dinner had begun.

“besides the better looking brother?” rhydian burred, shooting silas a pointed glare as he began perambulating towards the slytherin table.