A Spark of Propriety

"Where did you sneak off to?"

"What?"

He and Snape were waiting for the Malfoys outside Ollivanders. Merlin had worried they would have to watch while Draco purchased his wand—he hadn't thought about how to explain why Ollivander didn't recognize him—but they weren't asked to join. And, Snape wanted to talk to him. Or rather, reprimand him. But, when the conversation didn't turn to the incident in Madam Malkin's, Merlin stared.

"I don't—" Merlin started to say, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Don't play games with me," Snape cut sharply, his lip curling. "Narcissa was just inside Ollivanders and yet she didn't cross paths with you."

Merlin blinked. He must have just missed her when he'd gone into the carpentry shop. "Maybe she just didn't see me in the crowd?" Merlin suggested lightly. "I mean, I didn't do anything except get my wand." He held up his wooden box as if this proved it.

Which he thought it should.

Snape surveyed him for a moment, his black pitiless eyes narrowed as though he were trying to stare right through him. Merlin tried not to fidget or squirm, but it was uncomfortable to be under the scope of such scrutiny. "If I find that you are lying to me," the professor whispered in a voice of deadly calm. "I'll personally make sure the Knight Bus takes you on a tour of London – the kind where you never leave the vehicle and merely jerk from location to location."

Merlin wondered for a second if this was perhaps a poorly executed joke, but Snape's tone said otherwise. What kind of a punishment was that? Torture? Merlin swallowed, trying not to think of what this man's idea of detention could possibly entail, and nodded.

"I didn't go anywhere. Just got my wand." He just hadn't gotten it from Ollivanders.

Snape gave him one last long look before finally turning away, apparently satisfied. Merlin managed to stifle a sigh of relief. That'd just probably incriminate him again, and instead looked back toward Ollivanders behind them. How long did it normally take someone to buy a wand? It seemed more complicated than just picking one that looked nice.

"What exactly did you do to Draco in Madam Malkin's?" Merlin turned back to Snape. He wasn't facing him, merely giving him a half-hearted glance before looking straight ahead again. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, Merlin would say that the professor looked amused. "I don't believe I've ever seen such an expression of disbelief on the young Malfoy's face."

"What did he say?" Merlin asked, curious now. He had thought that the professor had asked him to stay out here with him so that he could yell at him for being disrespectful to that clotpole.

"Nothing."

"Huh?" Merlin's mouth fell open.

"Apparently, whatever occurred between the two of you was so tedious that Draco saw no need to relate it. In fact, I've never seen him avoid a topic of conversation so skillfully as he did when I asked what happened." The professor glanced toward him, a single brow rising. "Madam Malkin on the other hand employed an expression quite similar to yours."

Merlin closed his mouth. Perhaps Malfoy didn't rely on his father as much as he thought – or, maybe he hadn't wanted to drag Snape into it. Merlin wasn't quite sure what he had done to elicit this type of reaction though. Snape was still looking at him, waiting for a response.

"Well, sir," Merlin began slowly. "I was perfectly polite to Madam Malkin—" Almost too polite, "and I was merely myself to Malfoy."

"I don't think I have to ask what that entails," Snape heaved a sigh, though he still appeared – at least to Merlin – curious. "In any case, I would prefer it if the remainder of our trip passed by with the two of you being at least marginally civil to each other. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes."

Snape glared at him.

"Sir."

Only A Boy

Merlin would have given his left kidney if it meant he could leave the table and get far away from the Malfoy family. It seemed that their attitude of entitlement and propriety was hereditary, because Merlin felt more like he was at a feast with nobles than at a simple lunch. The Leaky Cauldron had even given them a table far removed from the rest of the occupants. Merlin felt as though they ought to conduct some sort of secret meeting instead of this mindless small talk.

He had a difficult time restraining his tongue. Sarcasm was second nature to him, and he had never had to filter himself before. After all, he could talk back to King Arthur. Why would he ever watch what he said around someone else?

And now he was forced to be civil.

"Have you gotten all your school supplies, then?" Snape asked Draco. His parents had said very little so far. Merlin had a feeling that this meeting was really for the two of them to talk than anyone else. He glanced at the professor, wondering what exactly was his relationship with the youngest Malfoy.

Draco hadn't let go of his packaged wand since he'd left the shop. "Yes, sir," he drawled with a wide smirk. "My wand was the last thing on the list. Although, I still want to go take a look at racing brooms, mine is rather out of date."

"First years aren't allowed on the house teams," his father reminded him in an undertone. He sounded faintly amused, though tired – as though they'd had this conversation before.

"That doesn't mean I can't fly at all," Draco replied, his smile fading. He glanced toward Merlin. "Have you ever flown before?"

"On a broom, or in general?"

"What other way is there?" Draco sneered at him.

Oh, maybe on a dragon?

The thought of what Draco would say to that made him smile. "No, then."

"Ever heard of Quidditch before?"

Sounds like a type of mud. Another smile. "No, can't say I have." It was killing him to be so polite. His magic tasted the air around him, vibrating as though itching to reach out and shock something.

"Marcus Flint will be quite happy to tell you all about it, given five minutes," Snape cut in smoothly. He glanced at Merlin and for the first time, the warlock wondered whether or not other wizards could feel his magic. The Malfoy's appeared not to notice at all though, remaining as they were. Draco's mother – Narcissa – seemed to find her salad worthy enough for her stomach and was eating slowly, a small frown on her face.

Maybe the dressing wasn't to her taste?

"So Draco, what wand chose you?" Snape asked. Merlin glanced at him. The wands chose the warl—wizard? How did that work? He almost wished he'd gotten normal wand now, if nothing else but to satisfy his curiosity.

Draco seemed more than pleased with this change in conversation and eagerly opened his package. "It took quite a while," Lucius said, his voice dripping with pride. Merlin took it as a good thing then, taking forever to get a wand. Maybe good wands were finicky.

"Hawthorne," Draco drawled, taking out a handsomely browned, very straight, stick. "Ten inches, unicorn hair."

"Very nice," Snape said. The professor turned to him, as though just realizing he hadn't seen Merlin's wand either. "And which wand chose you, Mr. Evans?"

Merlin swallowed and took his time getting his package out from under his chair. He could feel all their eyes, their mild curiosity. He put the box on the table and then opened it.

"That's your wand?" Draco exclaimed leaning over to get a better look. Merlin cringed slightly, and regretted making it so ostentatious.

"Er… yeah. Think he said that it was Whooping Willow, or something."

"Whomping Willow?" Snape said. Merlin tried not to squirm beneath the look the professor was fixing him with.

"Yeah, sorry that." What was a Whomping Willow? Snape looked torn between shock and indignation. "Twelve inches."

"I didn't realize Whomping Willow was wand wood," Lucius said softly. He looked rather thoughtful. "Ollivander has been experimenting, it seems."

"Indeed," Snape had stopped looking at Merlin and was gazing at the wand instead.

Merlin was starting to feel nervous – wands were supposed to be made of only certain types of wood? That would have been nice to know.

"What's its core?"

"D-dragon heartstring." He hadn't wanted to copy Draco, and that was the only other wand core he'd heard of. He supposed he could have made up something else – but what if cores were also limited to only a few things? No, this was easier – even if the thought of cutting off a piece of a dragon's heart made him feel queasy.

"It's a bit pretentious, isn't it?" Draco asked him giving a sneer. Merlin turned to him, his head rising a little taller. He was making such an effort here to be polite, and here this prat just kept poking sharp sticks at him. "Compensating for something?"

That had been the tipping point for Merlin. His magic shocked the air above him, writhing at the restraint. He opened his mouth to whip back a scathing retort about how Draco's wand obviously reflected the talent of its owner, but Narcissa was faster.

"Draco." She gave him a long look, neither anger nor pride on her face. Her son met her gaze for a moment before dropping his head, his ears twinged with pink. He straightened up, and spoke as though each word were costing him a great deal.

"Which is what some people may think, not I, of course."

Lucius gave a nearly inaudible chuckle, his shoulders barely moving. "Well, I do believe that we should take our leave. You have your shopping to finish, and we have some brooms to look at." And he got to his feet. As one, the rest of the family rose and Merlin and Snape followed them. "Until next time, Severus, Mr. Evans."

Merlin inclined his head when Lucius spoke his name and the man paused a moment, sparing him a second glance before heading out the door. Draco hung back with his mother, giving Merlin a glare. "See you at school," he drawled, his eyes flickering to Narcissa and back to him.

Merlin inclined his head again, and they left.

"If I never see them again, it'll be too soon," he groaned, collapsing back into his chair. He put the lid back over his wand and stowed it in his lap, holding it tightly with his fingers. He felt a little insulted that Draco thought his wand was pretentious – he thought it was great. Better than a boring stick – because, well, it was just a stick.

Snape sat back down, albeit much more gracefully than Merlin had done. "The Malfoy family," he said, his tone cool and even, "are some of the most influential people you could ever hope to meet. It would be most unwise to make enemies with them."

Merlin looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "You can't seriously be telling me to be friends with him."

Snape's lip curled. "Acquaintances would suffice." He heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I'll not waste my breath on what is obviously a lost cause. Come, we still have items to purchase."

Only A Boy

"He's a very unusual boy," Narcissa remarked.

She glanced toward Draco, noting with amusement the way his lip quirked at her words – as though he were trying to restrain himself from scowling. Severus had told her about the lad as they'd walked to Ollivanders – an orphan with unknown bloodlines. But, the child behaved as though he had spent a great deal of time in the company of high society.

Which was of course absurd, as he was an orphan living in a muggle orphanage. And yet— and yet he had given off the distinct vibe of someone who'd lived at court for several years. She was no stranger to that, no Malfoy or Black was for their family names demanded a certain way of life. She could recognize it in a heartbeat; the incline of the head and the polite yet veiled responses.

"Indeed," Lucius said at her side. He too glanced toward their son. "What did you think of him, Draco?"

Draco gave some noncommittal grunt that did not sound like her son at all.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him, her brow furrowing. She hadn't been able to get him to tell her about his first encounter with the strange boy. But she could still remember his face when she'd asked him about it. It was as though the boy had infuriated her son, and then managed to shock and impress him.

Something hard to do.

"I'm thinking of how I might smuggle a broomstick into Hogwarts," Draco answered evenly. Narcissa raised an eyebrow – she could always tell when he was telling half-truths. She sighed and shook her head, glancing toward Lucius as though asking him for help. Sometimes she didn't like their wealth and their power, the way that her son had been brought up to take all and put everyone else down.

But then, she did it too.

"I'll talk to Severus," Lucius told Draco. "Perhaps he can twist that old man's arm." He paused a moment and then looked straight ahead. "Under normal circumstances, I would tell you not to bother with the Evans boy at all. Growing up in a muggle orphanage, he's probably half-blood at best. However—" He paused again.

"I don't think he'll make a favorable ally," Draco ground out.

"Oh? He was polite enough during lunch." Narcissa decided to push again. "What happened at Madam Malkin's?"

Like before, Draco's face became a convoluted mess of emotions. "He—" he frowned. For a moment, Narcissa thought that he was going to leave it at that, when he finally revealed the incident. "I've never met anyone so blatantly disrespectful to the Malfoy name in my life."

"Really?" Narcissa recognized the cool tone in her husband's voice. It was the tone he used when a good opinion was turning sour.

"I do believe he called me a Lord Prat." Draco's eyes darkened. Narcissa felt insulted herself and she folded her arms. She tried to see it as the jeer of a commoner, but her instincts told her otherwise. But, she hadn't been there – she had to be reading too much into it.

"But then," and here Draco sounded positively puzzled. "He turned around, smiled and bowed to Madam Malkin."

"Ah, that would explain her shocked expression," Lucius said thoughtfully. His eyes were fixed on his cane for a moment, his walk slow. "Well, he's of little importance in any case. But be cautious, I've never heard of a wand made of Whomping Willow. Perhaps Ollivanders had too much to drink and too much time on his hands one night, or perhaps there's something else at work here."

"So do you want me to befriend him?" Draco sounded as though he'd eaten something sour, but she knew her son would do it just to please his father.

"One who insulted the Malfoys? I think not."

Draco sighed with relief.

"But it might be a good idea to keep a close eye on him. Whether one of neutrality or otherwise is up to you."

A soft smile lit up Narcissa's face. Sometimes she worried that Lucius placed too much on Draco's shoulders, but on those moments where he gave him the reins, joy warmed her heart. Draco loved his father, but she knew he depended on him too much. She had heard him bragging to his friends about Lucius on more than one occasion. Yes, admiration and respect were to be desired – but not the idea that Father would solve everything. Sometimes she wondered what might have become of her son if he had grown up while his father was still an active Death Eater.

And she would be secretly glad that he hadn't had to.

"Come, which broom would you like Draco?"

Only A Boy

The rest of the shopping trip was rather uninteresting, at least in comparison to the chaos of the morning. Snape nearly had to drag Merlin away from the bookstore and gave him a very stern talking to about not wasting time – after all, Merlin didn't have the money to buy any leisure books. They spent nearly an hour in the apothecary, but that was more the professor's fault than his. Apparently, the beetles weren't up to the standard the Potions Master required and he'd forced the poor attendant to get a new box from the back. Then he'd gone on to explain each ingredient as he packaged them, making Merlin feel like there'd be a pop quiz later.

One that he'd probably fail.

By late afternoon all the money had gone, replaced instead by a few dozen heavy packages. After walking out of the final shop, Snape paused. Merlin watched as the professor took all the packages – save for his wand, which Merlin still held in his hands – and shrunk them with a wave of his wand. He then put them into the empty coin purse.

"Are we really going to take the Knight Bus back?" Merlin asked when he'd finished and they began their walk back up the street and toward the exit. He didn't want to experience that monstrosity again.

"We've had this discussion before. I'd rather not repeat myself," Snape said without turning to look at him. Merlin could hear the edge in his tone, as though he'd had enough of Merlin's company for one day. Merlin would say that went both ways.

"We could get a cab. A muggle cab." From what he saw, they didn't jostle around so much. In fact, it might even be kind of nice – he didn't know, he'd never ridden in one.

Snape's lip curled. "No, we could not. I do not have any muggle money on my person, and I highly doubt the cabbie would accept a few bronze coins."

"We could—"

"Walking is highly impractical, Mr. Evans." There was a heavy sigh and the professor stopped in the street. For one wild moment, Merlin thought he was going to turn around and start scolding him for not dropping the subject. But, instead, Snape put his hands into his robes and withdrew a small vial and held it out to him. "Drink this."

"What is it?" Merlin took it cautiously.

"Poison," Snape deadpanned.

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"It's a calming draft. It'll make the trip more bearable."

"O—oh." Merlin stared at the vial, a wave of nostalgia flooding through him. How many times had Gaius handed him bottles just like this?

Snape was watching him closely. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Merlin said quickly and he downed the draft in one gulp. It tasted strongly of chamomile. "Thanks." He handed back the empty bottle.

Snape nodded and tucked the vial back into his robes, then started off again. For a few moments, Merlin didn't feel anything affect him. He was quiet, constantly gauging his senses for some change. They got back to muggle London and went to the same side road where they had disembarked from the Knight Bus. Snape stuck out his wand hand and with a loud bang, the violently purple bus appeared.

Not trusting himself to speak, Merlin clambered aboard and took the seat nearest to the driver – so that he could get back off again that much quicker. Snape sat down beside him, watching him with those black eyes of his. "Stop overthinking it, you're fighting the potion," he snapped.

Merlin nodded and took a deep breath, trying to relax. The bus took off with an almighty bang, and their chairs skid forward a few notches. Merlin flinched and griped his stool tightly. His heart fluttered in his chest and the air vibrated as his magic stretched out around him. But, it wasn't as bad as it had been the first time. He took another deep breath and felt his grip on his chair lessen.

Snape looked thoughtful.

"What?" Merlin asked a little more sulkily than he'd intended. "Sir," he added when he realized how rude he sounded.

"Do you know how dosage works in the magical world?"

"No."

"Body weight and age play their part of course, but in accordance to the innate magic of the individual," Snape explained. "Magic behaves and develops differently as you age. Magic is the body's first defense; a protective shield against other magical items one comes in contact with. To use a muggle expression, Magic is the antibodies in the blood stream. This is why curses are much more serious for children, than for adults. As you age and refine your control, your magic matures with you. As such, adults require stronger doses to get the same affect." He paused a moment, that expression in his eyes again.

"So—?"

"A child's dose does not seem to be enough for your system," the professor remarked.

Merlin felt his stomach churn. There was a very good reason for that. It would also explain why, since he'd come here, his magic behaved so chaotically. All the power and ability of an adult forced back into a child's body—it was bound to have side affects.

"Maybe this contraption is so awful that not even a potion can fix it," he suggested, as they were jolted again.

"Or your phobia so great that it might be better to knock you unconscious next time," Snape retorted with a sneer. But Merlin saw that he didn't really believe his words. Great, now he was going to have to tread even lighter around the professor. But at least now he knew he needed to avoid potions in the future – he didn't need anybody else growing suspicious.

They reached Wool's Orphanage not a moment too soon.

Merlin jumped out of the bus as though he'd been electrocuted, wondering how much worse it would have been if he hadn't taken the calming draft – weak as it was. They were in the alleyway just around the corner from Wool's. Snape took out his wand and turned his billowing black robes back into the waistcoat and trousers, before turning to survey Merlin.

"Do you have your own room, at the orphanage?"

"No," Merlin answered wondering what this could possibly be about.

"Then it might be a better idea if I were to take your school equipment. Should some muggle come across some of the items, it would lead to awkward questions and possible ministry involvement."

Merlin gulped.

"I assume you don't want that."

"Right." Merlin looked down at his packaged wand. He didn't like the idea of giving it to Snape, what if the professor tried to use it and realized that it was nothing more than a stick? He looked back up at Snape and hesitated.

"It is, of course, never a good idea to give someone else your wand. Whether you know them, or not." Snape was looking away, out of the alley. "You should never be without your wand, regardless of where you are. Keep it on your person at all times."

"So… does that mean I can take it out of the box?"

Snape turned and gave him a look that said he should've taken it out of the box a while ago. Merlin smiled and opened it, holding the elegantly curved wand tightly in his hand. He gazed at it for a moment – pleased with how it had turned out. Then he frowned.

"Where should I put it?"

It was hot, so he hadn't worn his jacket. His shirt was loose, his red scarf hanging wide on his neck. It wouldn't fit in his jeans pocket that was for sure. Snape paused a moment before turning to him. "Lift up your pant leg a moment."

Feeling a little weird, Merlin did so and Snape pointed his wand at it. He muttered something Merlin didn't catch and a leather holster appeared out of thin air.

"That will suffice for now," the professor said, stowing his wand back into a pocket within his vest. Merlin gave a small smile and slipped his wand into it, pulling the cloth of his trousers back over it. There was a small bulge, but nothing anyone would notice unless they looked too closely.

"Thanks."

Snape didn't really respond. He did this odd head jerk and then turned on his heel, walking out of the alley and back toward the school. Merlin had to jog to catch up to him. He didn't speak as they walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. He got the feeling that any conversation would have been met with grunts instead of actual words. And, he wanted to savor the moment.

Somehow, he'd managed to get a birthday present out of Snape.

He was grinning when Martha opened the door. "Merlin!" She greeted warmly, stepping aside so that they could enter. "Not a moment too soon."

"What?" Merlin asked blankly. Martha didn't reply, she merely slipped around him and gave his shoulders a small push toward the recreation room.

"Why don't you come as well?" Martha said looking back at Snape.

"I think the professor has things to do, actually," Merlin said with a very brief glanced toward him.

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Would you, professor?"

"I—"

"Excellent." Merlin was willing to bet no one had ever spoken over Snape like that. "Please, just this way. Come on, everyone's waiting!"

Utterly bewildered, ready to burst into laughter at the look on Snape's face as the elderly woman ushered them forward, Merlin was unprepared for the scene that met his eyes.

"Happy Birthday, Merlin!"

There were horns and streamers. The couch had been pushed up against the television to make room for a small table with a stack of paper plates on it, and beside it was a large cake with the words Happy Birthday written on it in blue icing. There was a group of boys around it, the lads he shared a bedroom with. And there, in the front with a blue party hat was Silas, showing off the chip in his tooth with his broad smile.

A lump rose in his throat.

"Y—you didn't have too—" Merlin started to say weakly, but Silas interrupted.

"Of course we did!"

"You gave us fireworks."

"Mark, shut up!"

They all laughed. Merlin tried to swallow the lump, but it wasn't cooperating. "I'm touched. Really."

He couldn't remember ever having a birthday party like this back at Camelot. He wasn't even sure if Arthur knew when his birthday was. They had always been caught up in their adventures and fighting against Morgana. And back at home it had always been a small affair. His mother hadn't had the money to buy a cake, and flour had been too expensive to use on anything except bread. Just him and Will, playing a few games and eating a fresh caught dinner had been enough.

"Thank you, everyone."

"Good. Now let's cut the cake. I'm starving."

Only A Boy

Severus Snape probably could have slipped away, now that everyone had a piece of cake and Martha was handing Evans a few clumsily wrapped packages. He doubted anyone would have really noticed, absorbed as they were in the festivities. Even Evans seemed completely occupied.

But he didn't.

Snape leaned against the wall, watching the boy with a thoughtful expression. It was starting to become a habit. Evans seemed to bring the curiosity out in him, unintentionally piquing his interest. He acted as though he'd never been in a automobile. He had managed to insult and impress the Malfoys.

And this looked like the first time he'd ever had a Birthday Party.

He was overly ecstatic about presents that were so simple. He got some candy bars, a few large yellow smiley stickers, and a tennis ball. Presents, that any normal child would have been a little disappointed with. Had Evans been an orphan since birth? Was this a tradition of the orphanage? But Snape thought he had heard from Martha that Evans had only been there a few months. So, where had he been before this? Who was his family?

Evans was being handed a present by the boy that seemed to be his best friend – Silas, if he remembered correctly. Silas Meadowes. The two of them were going to the same foster home, technically brothers now. Perhaps he should take advantage of this opportunity to discuss with the both of them the importance of the Statute of Secrecy. It would be better to fill the Meadowes boy in on the world of magic when there was a wizard nearby – just in case he had to do some damage control.

Merlin Evans ripped open the package, his blue eyes bright and sparkling. For a moment, Snape expected another candy bar, but what he saw made him stare. The boy took out a rather plain, dark green scarf, the exact same color of Slytherin House. But even more surprising was Merlin's reaction to the gift.

"I can't believe you got it!" He was saying, taking the red one he currently wore and replacing it with the green.

"Well," Meadowes grinned broadly again. "You said that was what you wanted. It's from Martha too, by the way." He scratched his head sheepishly. "She paid for it, anyway."

"Good, I was worried you'd nicked it."

Snape managed to stifle a chuckle. Somehow, he had pegged Evans for Gryffindor – now, he wasn't so sure. All of the presents appeared to have been given out and boys were onto their second and third helpings of cake. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Evans, would you spare me a moment?" He nodded toward the entry hall. Meadowes opened his mouth, shooting him a look before turning back to his brother. "Ah, and why don't you join us as well?"

Meadowes looked downright worried now. Wasn't that interesting? It seemed he was going to have to talk about the Statue of Secrecy in a different way than he had originally intended. Snape went into the hall ahead of them, waiting until they were alone before taking out his wand and whisperinga quieting spell around them. It did not escape his notice how both boys seemed to find this normal.

What he had suspected, he had now confirmed.

"Mr. Evans," he said stiffly. "Would you care to explain to me why you breached the Statue of Secrecy when I explicitly told you not to?" He was already planning a week's worth of detentions in his mind.

"I—"

"It wasn't his fault!" Meadowes squeaked. "He—he didn't mean for me to find out. It just sort of…" he looked over at Evans helplessly.

"—Happened. It was a moment of accidental magic," Evans finished, meeting his eyes evenly. It was nothing like how Potter would try to get out of trouble, no boasting or long tales. Simple. Honest. He actually believed him. But Snape couldn't help but wonder what had caused the accidental magic to occur. Why had Evans felt scared or angry?

"I see," he said slowly. They tried not to squirm under his scrutinizing glare – he saw Meadowes fidget with his hands. He turned to Evans. "You should have informed me when we met this morning."

"Sorry, sir." He didn't look very apologetic, but Snape could hardly hold that against him.

"Well then, I do not think I need to tell you," he said turning back to the younger boy, "what happens should you reveal your new knowledge to anyone else."

"N—no." Meadowes gulped audibly. "I won't tell anyone."

"See that you don't." Snape straightened. "Now, for the moment you will be with muggle fosters and it is important that they remain uninformed. They will be under the assumption that Mr. Evans is attending a boarding school for the gifted. There will be no mention of magic, do I make myself clear?"

Both boys nodded.

"Now, this is only a temporary predicament. The ministry is currently trying to locate a magical foster family, or else muggles that are members of the magical community through marriage or with wizarding children." He paused a moment. It seemed that Evans had explained all the terminology to Silas. Good, he hadn't wanted to go through that a second time.

"Do you know when we might be moved, then?" Evans asked.

Snape shook his head. "If you are at school at the time, you will be notified by owl. During the holiday, either myself or the headmaster will come to take you to the new location."

Both boys nodded their understanding.

"Now, this is your ticket for the train." He got it out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Evans. He had some misgivings about letting the boy hold onto it, but he highly doubted he would be able to take him to Kings Cross himself. "Walk between barriers nine and ten to get to three-quarters. The train leaves at Eleven O'clock."

"You're not going to come to take me there?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to?"

Evans frowned. "Am I expected to walk?" He looked just like a Slytherin student with that green scarf. Maybe that's why Snape let his jest slide.

"I'm sure Ms. Martha can arrange for some transportation," Snape cut back with a sneer. "Unless you'd like to face the Knight Bus again. I can provide your fare—"

"Thanks, but I'd rather make it to school in one piece."

"Then I suggest," Snape said his tone dropping. "You return to your party before I lose my patience."

"Are you sure you don't want a piece of cake before you leave, sir?"

Meadowes was looking from him to Evans his eyes round as saucers. He made a funny squeak, as though he wanted to tell his friend to cut it out, but was too shocked to actually do so. At least that boy seemed to know when to hold his tongue. Where was the boy who had been so polite during lunch?

"I doubt there's any left," Snape quipped back with a sneer. "In any case, I find muggle sweets revolting." He turned to leave when something stopped him. He turned back and put on his most menacing face. "Magic is forbidden outside of school. If you don't want that wand snapped in half, I'd keep it sheathed."

Evans gave a very strange expression, one of mingled recognition, alarm, and understanding. It wasn't the terrified one he'd been looking for.

"Yes, sir."

"Until September first, then."

And Merlin Evans inclined his head again, just as he had to the Malfoys. It felt so strange to be on the receiving end of it – stranger than watching it. It was a spark of propriety he didn't expect from the boy. Snape watched until those bright blue eyes lifted again, and then he turned on his heel and vanished into the night.