The Boy Who Almost Wasn't

Chapter 3: Lost And Found

Thoughts

ooOoo

"AAAACHOOOO!"

"Bless you."

"Thanks a lot," sniffed an extremely dusty and grumpy Ebon. He and Snape had spent the half hour since their conversation cleaning the spare room Ebon would be forced to live in. It had been quite a job and still wasn't finished. Even with Snape's magical abilities it was slow work, especially as Ebon had to use a rag and bucket for his share in the labour.

"Well this is your room," Snape pointed out.

"Ha! Some room. The air in 'ere's seen more life than I 'ave. I migh' wake up one nigh' ta find some 'orrible, slimy things crawlin' all over me."

Ignoring his complaining companion, Snape recited another banishing charm and smirked in satisfaction as one more dusty corner was magically cleaned.

Ebon watched jealously, until a strange thought occurred to him: "Where's it all go?" Ebon questioned.

"All what?"

"The dust. It 'as ta go somewhere don't it?" reasoned the once more dirty street kid.

"That's one of the many mysteries of magic," Snape answered. "Listen brat," he continued "if you don't learn to speak correctly, I promise you I shall tie that bloody tongue of yours into a very tight knot."

Ebon bought one small, filthy hand protectively to his mouth, and glared in what he hoped was an intimidating way at the much taller man. "I can't 'elp it, It's 'ow I've always spoke."

Snape shut his eyes as if in pain and took several deep, calming breaths. "Well it mightn't be so bad if you just used one tongue," he conceded, obviously making an effort not to carry out his previous threat. "But you're speaking in every kind of slang I've ever heard, from all corners of London, and quite a few that I haven't, all in the one sentence. It has become simply infuriating!"

"Well it ain't my fault," Ebon cried. "I've been ta all the corners of London, 'an I bet ya 'aven't even dreamed 'ow many there actually are."

"Well be that as it may, while you're living with me I require you to learn to speak correctly. Very quickly."

"Wha', that and learn ta read? Ya must be joking."

"It may well come with the reading."

"Great."

ooOoo

"Finally!" moaned Ebon. Evidently forty five minutes of scrubbing wasn't his favourite pastime, mused Snape.

"I'm thirsty again," complained Ebon bitterly. "Ya see, this is wha' manual labour does ta me."

Snape raised one arched, black eyebrow, looking almost amused. "Congratulations boy, you said a big word, tell me, did it hurt?"

"Don' call me 'boy'," growled Ebon. "Tell ya wha', I'll try an' speak proper, if you call me by me proper name."

"Is that a bribe?"

"Could be."

"Fine."

"But ya 'ave ta get me a drink as well," added Ebon.

"Ah. I see. Very well, we'll go to The Hog's Head. It's probably exactly your sort of place."

ooOoo

Snape was beginning to regret his decision to bring his next of kin to the seedy pub. In the four years since he had last darkened their small doorway, he had forgotten exactly what sort of people (the term 'people' might be severely stretched to describe some of the pub's more interesting inhabitants) The Hog's Head habitually entertained.

Severely and, as it turned out, foolishly down-playing the somewhat questionable ethics of the regular drinkers, Snape had thought The Hog's Head an amusing place to take his offspring for a refreshing drink. Unfortunately, the bar hadn't changed much in his absence.

I have got to get out more, thought Snape as he resignedly surveyed the stingy, dirty atmosphere of the very questionable drinking hole on the outskirts of Hogsmede. Turning around to inform Ebon they were leaving to find a more desirable place to dwell, Snape was just in time to glimpse his ward threading expertly through the crowd and toward the grimy bar and its surly bartender.

"No boy. Back here now," whispered Snape furiously. Ebon simply ignored his father and swaggered up to the stool closest to the barman, who was currently leaning against the bar and sampling one of his drinks. Snape growled inaudibly and marched over to the street boy to stand imposingly behind him.

Ebon grinned cheekily at the burly man in front of him. "Scotch an' lemon please. 'Old the scotch," he ordered. The barman, who either didn't share Ebon's sense of humour or was too thick to follow, simply glared at the ten-year-old boy and sipped his drink. Glancing up, he caught sight of Snape and redirected his glare toward the older man.

"Is this yours?" he asked, pointing at Ebon. Glaring down his nose at the young boy the barman sniffed disdainfully. "Looks like gutter rot," he observed.

The younger boy's grin, which had been gradually fading, disappeared completely; leaving behind a closed, guarded expression which looked - in Snape's opinion - entirely too old for such a young face.

"Well, you heard the boy, fetch him his drink," demanded Snape. Placing his hand casually on his ward's shoulder, the eight-year-Potions Professor rivalled the other man's sneer with one of his own first-year-student-terrifying versions. The barman, quickly weighing the odds, wisely concluded they weren't in his favour and, putting down his own beverage, he hurried away to fetch Ebon's drink.

"You get a lot of that?" enquired Snape.

"Yeah," confirmed Ebon. He was mortified to find himself embarrassed at being brushed off. Hadn't he suffered enough of that kind of treatment by now to be used to it?

The bartender plonked a grimy glass, its contents the unfortunate colour of fresh urine, in front of Ebon; spilling half of its contents all over the boy's shirt and, with a parting sneer, lumbered off to serve another thirsty customer.

"Nice to meet you too," muttered Ebon sarcastically. He eyed his 'refreshment' dubiously.

"People like that make you glad to be a teacher," said Snape.

"Surly nothin' can be that bad?" grinned Ebon, taking a sip of his yellow coloured beverage, choking, and spitting it back out.

"Something wrong? It's not poisoned is it?" asked Snape, only half joking.

"No. I don't know. Place like this, ya can't be too careful."

"Here," said Snape "Let me have a taste."

"'T's your funeral," warned the street urchin.

Snape took a tentative sip of the offending drink and made a face. "I don't believe this," he growled, slamming down the glass in much the same manner as the rude barman.

"Wha'? It ain't really poisoned is it?" asked Ebon, becoming seriously worried.

"Might as well be. It is, quite literally, lemon. Why that pissed faced son of a-" Snap caught himself before he could complete the questionable sentience, but Ebon got the general idea.

"Now wha'?" demanded Ebon, trying to hide his amusement. "Do we get ta bash up the bouncer?" Snape shot Ebon a warning glare before sighing and shaking his head.

"We're not just gonna sit 'ere an' do nothin' are we?" asked Ebon, eyes widening in disbelief.

"No," corrected Snape. "We'll wait and plan revenge, very carefully. Strike when he least expects it."

"Well I don't think so. He migh' keel over from the fumes in 'ere at any moment. I'm a boy of opportunity," and so saying, Ebon picked up the sour liquid and poured the lot of it into the barman's browner beverage.

"My my. You are full of surprises," said Snape, raising an eyebrow at his son's delinquent behaviour. "Maybe we should go before the man discovers your little practical joke."

Ebon agreed whole-heartedly.

As they were leaving the seedy pub, Ebon caught sight of the barman. He was standing in front of the stool they had just vacated and was sneering unpleasantly at their retreating forms. Ebon waved cheerfully and called "Thanks for the drink." He had just enough time to witness the bartender's sneer morph into a puzzled frown before Snape pulled him out through the undersized door.

ooOoo

"There many like him around?" panted Ebon. It was proving difficult to keep up with Snape's long strides, even though Ebon had grown up running from, dodging and generally not getting caught by those who were older and bigger than he was.

"Too many," warned Snape curtly. Not once did the Potions Master falter or pause in consideration of his son's predicament.

"Anything wrong?" wondered Ebon, abandoning his pride and jogging to catch up to his long-legged sire.

"No. Yes. Yes!" Snape shouted suddenly, whirling on his hapless ward with enough force in his expression to have Ebon stumble backward one or two steps. "You deliberately disobeyed me back there!" Snape jabbed his finger in the general direction of The Hog's Head, causing the few passers by to stare at the odd pair. "I'll not have it. Not from my own flesh and blood! It seems to me that you have no sense of discipline whatsoever. I told you to wait, and what did you do?..." Snape ranted on in this manner for a couple more minutes, Ebon only managing to squeeze in the occasional "Yes but..." or "No I..." while feeling bewildered at Severus' abrupt change of mood.

"Aw, go drown yaself in a rain-barrel!" exploded Ebon finally.

The ten-year-old was thoroughly sick of the whole situation: his abduction in front of Jenny's stall. The constant argument regarding his name. His newfound relative. Being forced to participate in hard, tiring labour. The business at The Hog's Head. And now this: a torrent of verbal abuse from a man he barely knew, and by some twist of fate, turned out to be his father. A man Ebon had previously thought non-existent. Ebon had lived the whole of his short life without the aid of a parental figure and in the street boy's view, the discovery of one changed nothing except his social status. The hope that someone might finally be willing to listen to his - Ebon's - side of an argument had crossed his mind, but had just as quickly been abandoned in the wake of the older man's previously undiscovered personality quirk.

Snape was stunned for a second, but it was enough. Ebon had gone.

ooOoo

Damn. He's not here either.

Severus Snape had been searching for his fugitive offspring for just over two and a half hours. The young man had absolutely no idea of where his son could possibly have gone, but Snape wasn't about to admit defeat. He had no wish to face Dumbledore, McGonagall or (especially) Lupin without the child.

The Potions Master was experiencing an unwelcome feeling of de-ja-vu. It could well have been this morning, when Snape had despaired of scouring the whole of London for Harry Potter: his unknowing and unknown son. The Professor prayed to any deities who were bothering to listen that his good fortune would hold, and he would find the lad again.

Apparently, no one was listening, because Severus saw no snub nosed, freckled, emerald-eyed faces passing him by on the streets of Hogsmeade.

How could he have run away so quickly, and hidden so effectively? Snape wondered. As if in answer, he saw a group of children sprint by him, laughing and yelling to each other before disappearing into the crowd. Snape scowled to himself and continued to search for his lost boy.

ooOoo

Ebon scowled to himself and wondered how on earth it was possible to get lost, even if you had nowhere to go and nowhere to come back to. The philosophy of it eluded the young boy, but that is exactly what he had achieved. Ebon was hopelessly lost and beginning to regret his impetuosity.

Suddenly Ebon heard a terrified yowl, and a greyish streak dashed toward him - tripping the light street boy over - followed by a furious roar: "AND DON'T YOU DARE COME NEAR MY STORE AGAIN!"

Ebon stared down at the grey and white kitten cowering in the shelter of his lap.

"What'd ya do?" enquired Ebon. The cat responded with a pitiful meow. It was very thin. Almost, but not quite, starving. Evidently, the cat had no more luck than Ebon in finding his meals. Perhaps this is what had led it into strife.

Ebon had never taken much notice of animals, but he felt a stirring of pity and kinship for this feline, not quite fully grown. "Ya don' have any one?" Ebon asked his new companion. Once again, the cat meowed.

"Nah. Neither do I. What's ya name?" The youth felt a touch foolish to be speaking to a cat, but reasoned that in the world of magic, anything was possible, even talking cats. The kitten simply stared at him with two wide, golden eyes. Okay, so the cats Can' talk, discovered Ebon. Which means tha' I get ta name it. Ebon studied the feline and decided upon a suitable name.

"'Ow 'bout Ash?" Ebon asked the cat, who responded with another meow.

"I'll take tha' as a 'yes' then," grinned Ebon as he lifted the newly christened Ash onto his shoulder and strode away.

"Ya know it'd be jus' me luck if ya 'ad fleas," Ebon addressed Ash pessimistically, and promptly collided full on with a tall white-blonde boy walking in the opposite direction. Once again, he was knocked down, this time twisting his ankle.

"Ow! Hey, watch it you," ordered a haughty voice, coming from the other boy.

"Sorry, wasn't payin' attention," apologised Ebon. Wincing, he tried to stand, while the other boy watched in silence.

"A little 'elp 'ere would be nice," Ebon hinted.

Looking surprised at having been addressed in such a manner, the blonde boy seemed to have an inner debate before, finally, reaching a satisfactory conclusion. Bending slightly, he offered his hand to Ebon who, after a moments pause to gather Ash up into one arm, grasped it firmly and was hauled to his feet, favouring his injured ankle slightly. The other boy stared at the street urchin. "You're rather light," he informed him.

"You're rather rude," countered Ebon.

The other boy blinked in surprise, looking as if he didn't know how to handle this strange, ebony haired boy. Unexpectedly, the blonde boy grinned. "I like you," he decided aloud.

"That's nice," said Ebon sarcastically. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be liked by this strange, well-speaking young boy. He didn't even know the new comer's name, or his age, and after Ebon's past experience with strangers belonging to the wizarding world, he half expected the blonde boy to turn out to be his cousin, or brother (which, thankfully, seemed unlikely, given the boy's height, hair and silvery eyes).

The taller boy grinned again and offered his hand anew. "The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, but you can call me Draco." The boy announced this last bit as if it were a major privilege. "How old are you?" asked Draco as an after thought. "Eight? Nine?" he added disbelievingly as Ebon simply shook his head at Draco's previous suggestions.

"Ten," corrected Ebon.

The silver eyed boy's mouth dropped open. "Really? Well, what a coincidence, so am I."

"Great," commented Ebon, trying not to laugh at the blonde's astonished reaction.

"So what's your name?" asked Draco, recovering smoothly from his surprise.

"Ebon," replied the street boy simply.

"Ebon...?"

"I don' know! Boon. Snape. Potter. You tell me!" Ebon shot back angrily.

"What?" yelped a startled Draco Malfoy.

"Never mind," sighed Ebon.

ooOoo

"Lucius!" called Snape in apparent relief. "Lucius, a moment of your time, if you please."

"Of course Severus. How may I help... What in the name of all the deities are you wearing?" exclaimed Lucius Malfoy, beholding Snape's Muggle draperies with amazement. Snape still wore his morning attire of bikie jacket, leather pants and T-shirt.

"Long story," sighed the Potions Master. "Please don't ask me about it now. Look, you haven't seen a boy have you, about so tall." Snape held out his hand, palm down, around waist level. "Green eyes, shoulder length black hair, freckles across his nose?"

"No. I do apologise Severus, I'm afraid I've been rather preoccupied, searching for my son," declared Lucius dryly.

"What a coincidence," muttered the Potions Master.

Lucius looked at Severus with an unreadable expression. "I see," was all he said.

"Perhaps we can help each other," suggested Snape, with an eyebrow raised in question.

"Perhaps."

ooOoo

"So you're actually Harry Potter?" asked Draco Malfoy.

"No. I'm actually Ebon. Ebon Snape I suppose. Not that it matters."

"Merlin," breathed Draco, impressed despite himself at the drama of his newfound companion's life. "So you were on the streets, for four years, until you were rescued-"

"Kidnapped," interrupted Ebon with a scowl.

"Rescued," repeated the blonde boy stubbornly, "by the Hogwarts' Potions Master - who, after slicing into you with his knife, and using your blood in some unknown potion, determines himself as your father. Who would have thought; Severus Snape can reproduce. He must be human after all. Well at least partially," the silver-eyed boy added, grinning lazily at Ebon across the step they were sitting on, which belonged to 'Coven's Page: A Book For All Your Needs'.

"Wha', ya know him do ya?" asked Ebon, startled.

"Yes. He's an on and off friend of father's," explained Draco, his mood and manner losing their playful air instantly. Leaning back into the porch of the book shop, encircling his arms loosely around his knees and watching the emerald eyed boy with his own cool silver, completely relaxed and unfazed. Smiling a little, Draco continued: "Do you realise that for a while there you were speaking properly, and your accent might have passed as middle class? Until you became angry that is, then you went right back to street talk."

Ebon listened to this interesting observation with a thoughtful face. "So your sayin' I can speak proper until I become excited, or until I try ta," he added with a wry grin.

"Something along those lines," confirmed Draco.

"The Professor should be pleased," said Ebon. "So what are ya doin' 'ere?" he enquired of the older boy, half smiling.

But whether the smile was for himself or for Draco, the blonde haired boy couldn't decide.

"I can't seem to find my father," explained Draco, feeling embarrassed. However, when Ebon started laughing, Draco saw the funny side of the situation and had to join in.

"Perhaps we can help each other out," suggested the smaller boy, flashing a mischievous grin. Ebon decided, quite unexpectedly, that he did want to be liked by his companion of chance. Ebon wanted a friend, like Jenny, but someone his own age. Someone he could laugh with, talk with, run around with, and who would care whether he lived or died.

"Perhaps," agreed the taller boy, shocked at how thoroughly the cheeky stray's face was transformed by one of his rare grins.

"You said you ran away?" blurted Draco, changing the subject. "From the orphanage I mean," he continued. "Why?"

Ebon turned away slightly, and fixed his gaze on Ash, who was purring contentedly in his lap. Draco was deprived of the look in Ebon's eyes as the other boy's long, dark lashes swooped down to conceal the two emerald green orbs.

"I got bored," declared Ebon, in a slightly too cheerful voice.

"Oh," said Draco, and left it at that.

ooOoo

"Severus I can't imagine where they could have got - there they are." exclaimed Lucius Malfoy with uncharacteristic vigour. "Would you look at that. Apparently, your boy found mine. Well how's that for a coincidence?"

"There seems to be quite a few of them lately," murmured Snape to himself. Snape was surprised; he hadn't seen Lucius this excited since the day the other man had come bursting into their Slytherin dormitory, declaring that in two weeks he - Lucius - would be initiated as a Death Eater. Snape was forced to come to the obvious conclusion: the elder Malfoy must really have been worried about his son.

The Potions Master would suffer the torture of the damned, before he would admit to anyone his profound relief at discovering his newfound son safe and, from all indication, unharmed. The two boys appeared to be having a conversation. A moment later, the blonde one - Draco, Snape remembered - looked up - perhaps he had heard Lucious' yell - and caught sight of the two adults.

"Father!" yelled Draco, leaping to his feet and waving wildly above his head, "Look Eb, your's is here too."

"Yeh," sighed Ebon. "Hi."

Snape narrowed his eyes at his runaway son, and folded his arms in a forbidding fashion, glaring formidably. "What do you have to say for yourself boy, hmmm?" he demanded.

"Nothing," sneered Ebon, unconsciously mirroring his sire's posture and glaring right back.

Lucius sighed "I bet you two could continue that for the rest of the week, but now is not the time. Draco, why don't you introduce me to your new friend?"

"Very well. Father, this is Ebon. Ebon, this is Father," said Draco as Snape snorted.

"Pleasure," nodded Mister Malfoy.

"Hey, I know. Why don't we go have afternoon tea at the 'Three Broom Sticks'?" suggested the younger Malfoy.

"Yeh. We can exchange battle tales," muttered Ebon sarcastically. This was turning out to be one hell of a day.

ooOoo

Butter Beer, thought Ebon, staring broodingly into a much too familiar looking yellow liquid. Sounds like a sort of 'home brew'. Oh well, can't be any worse than what I've already suffered through. Ebon sipped the golden beverage and was pleasantly surprised. Not too bad. "Could be a little warmer," he mused out loud.

"Well then drink it sooner, and don't sit there staring at the bloody glass as if it were some sort of previously untested potion," ordered Snape.

"Well it is," Ebon pointed out.

"Yes, all right, point taken," growled the Potions Master.

"Ebon, come look at this," called Draco, from the other side of the pub where he had been examining a rather interesting structure apparently engineered of wood, metal and, oddly, parchment and wool.

Ebon excused himself, trying (unsuccessfully) to hide his relief at the timely interruption. He sauntered over in the direction of his new friend and joined Draco in his speculation of what the unusual form was supposed to resemble.

"Odd child," mused Lucius after Ebon had moved out of hearing. "How ever did you end up with a heir like that?"

"It's a long and embarrassing tale, which I shan't tell any time soon."

Lucius looked at Snape and scowled thoughtfully. "Get rid of him," Lucius advised with apparent conviction. "You can send him off to a distant relative and never think of the boy again." The elder Malfoy stared hard at his companion, but if he was trying to gauge Snape's reaction, Lucius was disappointed for the elder Snape gave no indication of feeling appalled or otherwise.

"I can't," said Snape at last. "Ebon is also 'The Damn Boy Who Lived'."

"He's Harry Potter?" exclaimed Lucius quietly.

"Yes, but that's another story I won't be going into. Not here," said Snape, indicating their surroundings with one long fingered hand.

"My my Severus, what will your father say?" queried Lucius, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Nothing," Snape growled, "because I won't be telling him."

"Do you really think you could keep this from him?"

"I'm going to damn well try!"

"Very well. Then you must accompany me back to Malfoy Manor, and reveal your tactics," suggested Lucius.

"May as well. Looks like Ebon has made a lasting impression upon your son," observed Snape. "Who would have thought?"

"Indeed," agreed the blonde headed man, smiling a bit, despite himself. "Perhaps the boys can amuse themselves reading a few books. Use their free time usefully and all that."

"Yes, well, unfortunately Ebon has a slight problem with his spelling. You see, most people forget to cross their T's and dot their I's. My offspring forgets to put them in."

"Excuse me?"

Snape sighed and leaned back in his chair. "He's illiterate," explained Snape patiently.

"Good gods Severus! What else is wrong with the boy?"

"He's illiterate Lucius, not diseased," snapped Severus defensively.

"Yes well, it just about amounts to the same thing doesn't it?"

"Does it?" asked Snape, eyebrow raised.

ooOoo

"It could be a giant spider," said Draco doubtfully. "With twelve legs and six tentacles. Or it might be an octopus, with a severe birth defect."

"Does it have ta be anything?" asked Ebon uncertainly.

"Of course it does," retorted Draco scornfully. "It's art, and art always has to mean... something." The blonde haired boy faltered slightly and analysed the dubious construction in front of him. Despite his knowing speech, Draco wasn't quite sure the normal rules applied here, but he was determined to try and force them to if need be.

"You just have to use your imagination a little," suggested Draco. "Well, a lot," he amended, gazing once more at the 'thing'.

"Riiiiiiight," said Ebon. "Well, I suppose it could be an... um... bush?" proposed Ebon tentatively.

"Could be," agreed Draco. "You can sort of believe it's a plant, if you turn your head sideways and squint a bit."

"Yeh. Maybe it's a-" Ebon was interrupted by Snape calling them. The two older men, deciding to leave, were becoming quite impatient with their lingering offspring.

"Damn," swore Draco. "Oh well, at least we can... Madam Rosmerta!" yelled Draco, trying to gain the attention of the woman who owned 'The Three Broom Sticks', startling Ebon and causing a few customers to look around curiously.

"Mister Malfoy what are you yelling about?" enquired Madam Rosmerta from behind the bar.

"That statue," said Draco, indicating the offending piece. "What is it supposed to be?"

"A rose," answered Madam Rosmerta testily.

"A rose!" shouted Ebon and Draco in unison.

"Yes, a friend made it for me. Now be off, both of you. Quickly now," the barkeeper ordered.

"I was almost right," Ebon whispered, looking slightly amused at the whole situation.

"You thought it was a bush," Draco reminded him.

"Yes but a bush isn't that big a leap from a rose bush," retorted Ebon smugly as he bent down to retrieve Ash.

"Shut up," growled Draco. "You know," he mused, glancing once again at the 'rose' sculpture. "If one of my friends made something like that for me, they wouldn't be my friend for very much longer."

"Mine either," agreed Ebon whole-heartedly.

ooOoo

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Preserving the manner of the Malfoys for centuries," joked Draco, trying to entertain Ebon. They were standing in front of what was more a castle than a family home. The turrets, towers and balconies offered an impressive view, and the surrounding grounds stretched for as far as the eye could see.

Roses and lavender formed a border around immaculately cut grass, and a corkscrew willow grew in the centre of a small maze of tiny shrubs. Quince, Pomegranate and, surprisingly, a Persimmon tree grew around the considerable area in an apparently random fashion, and annuals sprouted up here and there among them. Ebon wondered who could possibly tend to the huge grounds.

Well they'd have servants, obviously, thought Ebon. Hundreds of 'em. They really must be wealthy.

"Ha ha," Ebon always liked to show how much he appreciated the humour of his associates.

"You could at least have the courtesy to pretend to be amused. You are, after all, my guest," mock grumbled Draco.

"That would take considerably more acting skills than I currently posses."

"Where did that come from?" snorted Draco.

"I don' know," admitted the street urchin, grinning carelessly up at the quickly darkening heavens.

"You'll have to stop doing that. Take more care, at least around my parents," warned Draco, staring, despite himself at the thoughtless abandon in which Ebon went through life.

"Stop what? Take more care of what?" enquired Ebon.

"That - grinning all the time, letting anyone look at you," Draco tried to explain what had offended him and failed miserably.

"What? Ya think I should wear a mask do ya?" asked Ebon scornfully.

"Well, metaphorically speaking. Yes," replied Draco simply. "I mean, you don't have a shred of diplomacy or tact," he observed, as if unaware this statement could possibly offend.

"Tact is for people not smart enough to use sarcasm," said Ebon, poking his tongue out at the taller boy.

"Yeh, right," grinned Draco.

"No, it's true. Scientific fact, don't ya know?"

"Gods, you're weird," grinned Draco.

"Hey!" protested Ebon.

"It's a fact, don't ya know?" said Draco, attempting to imitate his ebony haired companion, and failing spectacularly.

Ebon couldn't hide a slight snigger.

Draco gave Ebon a long-suffering look. "You see," he said. "That's exactly what I mean. If I was any less of a person, I would be rather offended at your lack of discipline."

"Is tha' what ya rich kids are taught? Discipline?" asked Ebon.

"Among other things," confirmed the 'rich kid'.

"Gods. I'm glad I'm not one of ya," said Ebon.

"But you are. Sort of," Draco informed him. "At least Snape, your father, is quite well off."

"I am so doomed," groaned Ebon.

"Quite," confirmed Snape from behind the chatting boys, causing them to jump and whirl around.

"Jeeze. Ya scared me out of a year of me life," panted Ebon, blinking in surprise at the mysterious apparition of his father.

"Same," agreed Draco. "Where did you come from anyway?"

"Thin air," said Snape sarcastically.

"Oh, so ya are a vampire after all. I was wondering," said Ebon cheekily.

"Be careful what you say," warned Snape. "I don't want to have to hurt you for blowing my cover."

"WHAT?" yelped Ebon.

"He's joking Ebon," explained Draco patiently.

"I knew that."

"Narcissa wants you to come inside, dinner's ready," relayed Snape.

"Dinner? Oh good, I'm starved," said Draco.

"Hurry up then, it's getting cold," said Snape.

ooOoo

Dinner consisted of roast beef, finely glazed vegetables and a crisp garden salad, freshly picked. The three adults drank a chilled bottle of sparkling red, and there was fresh orange juice for the two young boys. Ebon stared at the banquet and wondered if, and when he was going to wake up.

"Did ya mam make this?" whispered Ebon to his blonde haired companion.

"No. The servants do everything," corrected Draco, looking appalled at the very thought of a member of his family having to work.

"Servants?"

"The house elves."

"Oh not those again!" groaned Ebon, rolling his eyes and scowling bad temperedly.

"Quiet," ordered Snape.

Ebon simply glowered at him and continued to pick at his exquisite meal, his appetite quite gone.

ooOoo

Two hours later, Snape decided it was time to leave.

"Hey. Come back soon!" yelled Draco after his friend's retreating back.

"Nah," replied Ebon with a wave and a grin over his shoulder.

"One day, you'll learn some manners, and then I might be able to take you out in public," prophesised Snape.

"Nah," repeated Ebon, carrying a purring, and very full Ash.