"Well, I think Seeker is the worst name I ever heard of," remarked Draco. "Owls don't play Quidditch, you know."

"So what? It's my owlet, I can call him that if I want to," argued Harry. They were in the den, writing down possible names for their baby owls on a sheet of parchment. It had been a week since Hedwig's surprise and they had since moved the new family inside the manor, since the summer rainy season had arrived. Their nest was in a large perch which simulated the oak tree, and the owls had been questioned by Smidgen and told her they had two males and two females, one pure white and two mottled gray and white and one a deep gray with white markings.

Draco had chosen the gray and white male and a mottled female, while Harry had the other mottled male and the snowy female. But both boys were finding it difficult to come up with names for the birds and had decided to brainstorm only that wasn't really working out either.

"Sure, you can call him that, if you want all the owls to make fun of him," snorted Draco.

"Well, Dimwit was terrible too."

"Hey, it's true. Some owls are really stupid, and yours had just nearly fallen out of the nest for the third time. So. . .I'd say Dimwit was appropriate."

"How about Blizzard?"

"That's too common. Everybody with a white owl calls it Blizzard or Snowy or Noel."

Harry thought for a moment. "How about Heartsease?"

Draco made a face. "Ugh! Sounds like a disease."

"It's an herb, dimwit."

"Still sounds like a disease."

"Oh, like you can come up with something better?"

"I can. What about Mystery?"

"Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff's owl is named that." Harry objected.

"How d'you know that?"

"He got a letter during practice with us and that's what he called his owl. Mercury, how about that?"

"Don't like it. Skymaster, what about that?"

Harry shook his head. "That's ridiculous. Sounds like a superhero or something. Lightning Bolt?"

"Like your scar isn't famous enough, you've got to name your owl after you?"

"Hey, it's not my fault the scar is there. Now shut up about it, okay?" Harry ordered, he'd always hated the way people stared at him because of it.

"Touchy, aren't we, Snape?" Draco observed, grinning. "Is it your time of the month again?"

"Don't be a smartass, Draco. You're one to talk. You're in a bitchy mood all the time, like a woman."

His foster brother glared at him. "Takes one to know one, huh, Harriet?"

"You preen in front of the bathroom mirror like a girl, Dracarina."

"At least I won't be mistaken for one." Draco shot back, for the mirror comment had hit a little too close for comfort.

Severus looked up from his potions periodical and said severely, "Boys, if you don't stop this bickering, I'll make you stand in a corner like two preschoolers, since that's about your behavior level."

"Yes, sir," they replied, but each one eyed the other accusingly.

But, being typical teenagers, they kept needling each other, until Severus couldn't take it any longer and snapped, "Enough! Maybe a twenty minute time-out will cool your tongues."

The two glowered at each other, then yelped when their exasperated father grabbed them by an ear and marched first Harry and then Draco to a corner of the den. "Eyes front, nose to the wall, and be silent!"

Rubbing his ear, Draco glared at Harry.

"Draco!"

The Slytherin quickly turned to face the wall, grinding his teeth. He could feel himself flush to the tips of his ears, for he detested when Severus treated him as if he were five again, it was very embarrassing. Though he had to admit, it was also an effective way of snuffing the bickering he always seemed to engage in with Harry.

Harry stared at the wall and cursed his temper and his mouth, he ought to know better than to test Severus like that. Would he ever learn not to let Draco bait him?

The twenty minutes seemed like an eternity, but both apprentices knew better than to fidget, since moving only got you more time. Eventually, the timer Severus had placed near them ran out of sand, and the Potions Master released them. "I want both of you to apologize to each other and since you can't speak without quarreling, you may as well go out and weed the vegetable garden."

Both mumbled apologies, then Harry said, "But sir, it just rained, and it's all wet and muddy."

"Which will make it easier for you to pull weeds," his father pointed out. "If you hadn't started arguing like a pair of four-year-olds, you wouldn't be pulling weeds, next time act your age."

Heaving a sigh, Harry and Draco obeyed, though they continued their previous discussion on names for the owlets as they weeded. It was finally decided that the gray owl would be Phantom and his mottled brother Zephyr. The small mottled female Draco named Athena and Harry called the white owlet Frost.

Having resolved not to quarrel with each other, they picked weeds in silence for a few minutes, the mud squelching as they moved, tugging a weed firmly and then throwing it on the growing pile behind them.

At last Draco ventured, "I wonder who will win the Quidditch World Cup this year? We're hosting it for the first time in I don't know how long, and if I were at Malfoy Manor still, we'd be in the top box, watching it." He sighed longingly. "But the tickets are expensive and I doubt Uncle Sev could afford three good ones, plus you've got to buy them like a half a year in advance."

"Mmm." Harry muttered noncommittally. He would've loved to attend a professional Quidditch match, but circumstances being what they were. . ."Ron told me a bit about it. He said sometimes the Minister himself attends. It's too bad we can't go, but Dad needs to keep a low profile and so do we. Still. . .who's playing in it this year?"

"Ireland versus Bulgaria. Who would you pick to win it?"

"Ireland. They've got the best Chasers." Harry said immediately.

"Maybe so, but you're forgetting who Bulgaria's got as Seeker. Viktor Krum. He's the best there is."

"I didn't forget," Harry disagreed. "But there's more to a good Quidditch team than just the Seeker. Ireland's got more well-rounded players."

"Bulgaria has Marcus Molokov too," Draco argued. "He was named MVC of the year (Most Valuable Chaser) for scoring the most goals in one season. And their Keeper's first rate too."

"I still like Ireland better."

"You're blind, Snape. Don't you know what the Bulgarian mascot is?"

"Uh . . .some kind of magical being?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Merlin, Harry, what kind of Quidditch fan are you that you don't know the Bulgarian mascot's a veela?"

Harry wasn't sure what a veela was, he remembered reading about them once in a periodical. "What's so great about them?"

"What's so GREAT about . . .you've never seen one, have you? ‘Cause if you did then you'd know that they're every man's fantasy. Veela are a race of nymphs, ancient fae women that live to uh, seduce young men. They're gorgeous and they've got a glamour on them that makes any man who looks on them forget everything except sex. You mean to tell me you've never looked at Pearl Similiyovich in Witch-o-Rama?"

"I lived with Muggles, Draco. How was I supposed to get a copy of a porno mag when I couldn't get a copy of the Daily Prophet?"

"Oh. You've got a point there." He glanced about furtively. "Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, but look," the other wizard said, summoning a copy of the magazine with a quick flick of his wand. "If Uncle Sev ever knew I had this . . .I'd be so dead. But look, here's a picture of Pearl, she's half-veela."

Harry peered at the glossy picture, the woman was a knockout, she had thick silvery hair and huge blue eyes and the rest of her . . . "Whoa! She's like . . .amazing!"

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Draco said enthusiastically. "Now d'you see why the Bulgarians are cool? Supposedly they give a pre-game show where the veela dance for the spectators, and it just blows you away. Too bad we have to miss it. Oh well, I can always dream."

"Dream about Slytherin winning the Quidditch final, y'mean?" Harry teased.

"And who's to say we won't? You think you're some kind of Super Seeker, Harry?"

"You said it, not me."

"You wish. This season, Slytherin's going to smoke your Gryffindor arse right out of the pitch, and you won't even know what hit you."

"That before or after I wallop your sorry arse, Malfoy?"

"You'll need to take some flying lessons before you can do that, little brother," smirked Draco.

"I can fly rings around you any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Wait and see."

"How long will I have to wait? Till next year?" hooted Draco. "Because by that time I might just be Captain of my House team and dating Hermione." An instant later, Draco went beet red and clapped a hand to his mouth. "Uh . . .pretend you didn't hear that, okay?"

Harry gaped at him. "Did you just say what I think you said? You . . .like Hermione? You, the ultra pureblood wants to date a Muggleborn? I'm just . . .so shocked!" he clutched his chest dramatically. "Be still, my heart! For Draco hath found his true love . . .like Romeo and Juliet, they are starcrossed and can only meet in the dark behind the humpback witch statue after curfew and . . .what WOULD your mother say, Draco Michael Malfoy?"

By this time, Harry was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

"She'd kick my arse into the street for disgracing the Malfoy name for sure," Draco said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Now that you have ruined the reputation of this Name and dragged it through the mud, young man . . ." he said in a high falsetto tone. "Turned your back on your heritage of darkness, you may leave and take your Mudblood hussy with you."

Draco lifted his nose and pretended to sniff haughtily, and Harry scooped up a clod of dirt from the ground and threw it at the back of Draco's head, just because he felt like it.

It landed a bit off center and struck the other on the back of his lime green T-shirt with a wet splat!

Draco spun around. "Did you just throw dirt at me, Snape?" He advanced on Harry threateningly.

"Gotta get your hands dirty sometime, pretty boy," Harry joked, backing away.

Draco scooped up a glob of mud and lobbed it at Harry.

It hit him in the shoulder with a wet THWAP!

"He shoots, he scores!" Draco cried, punching a fist in the air. "There's dirt on your shirt now, Snape!"

Harry reached down and scooped up more mud, flinging it at his foster brother as quickly as he could, yelling, "Here's mud in your eye, Malfoy!" while laughing.

Draco tried to duck, but the ground where he was standing was very slippery and mucky and he couldn't twist away fast enough to avoid all the mud and ended up with half of it on him. "Now you're in for it, little brother." He crooked his hands into claws and snarled, lunging at Harry and tackling him into the mud.

They landed with a wet splat on the damp earth, and mud splattered all over them. "Ha! The Mud Monster wins!" Draco cheered, until Harry managed to knock Draco away and sit up.

"Only for a minute. Take that!" he rubbed a great glob of mud into Draco's white-blond hair.

Draco sputtered, then tackled Harry to the ground again and playfully rubbed his face in the dirt. Soon the two were covered in mud, looking like walking bogmen come back from the dead and having the time of their lives.

Inside the manor, Severus just happened to glance out the kitchen window at that moment, and saw what looked like the two boys rolling on the ground pummeling each other. The Potions Master felt his temper ignite. I don't believe this! After all of my lectures and warnings, still they're squabbling like two-year-olds! Rotten arrogant little brats! Did they think I was kidding when I said if I caught them fighting again I'd spank them? I never thought they'd go that far again, especially after the last time, but by Merlin's blessed staff, now their backsides are going to regret it, or my name isn't Severus Snape! He was furious that the two could so casually disregard his rules and start this petty bickering all over again and make him punish them in a manner he detested, but it seemed as if it was the only way to get through to them.

He was about to turn away and head outside to break them up when the sound of laughter drifted to him and he took another look and saw the two getting up from the ground, laughing like two loons.

Sev, they're only playing. Not fighting, but playing, like two stupid pigs in a wallow. He heaved a sigh of immense relief and continued watching for a moment, not wanting to interrupt their fun. Harry was now chasing Draco around, pelting mud at the other as he ducked behind the trees, giggling like a mad troll.

A smile tugged at the corners of the stern mouth as he watched his two sons playing like the carefree children they never were. They were having a glorious time, but eventually Severus decided to have a bit of fun of his own and slipped outside, conjured a bucket of icy cold water, and flung it on them as they mudwrestled.

"AHHH!"

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!"

Both boys froze, shivering and soaked to the skin, coated in mud.

"What's the big idea, Dad?"

"Uncle Sev! The water's freezing!"

"Just the right temperature to cool you brats off!" chuckled their father wickedly.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then he had a very naughty idea. There was a handful of mud still clutched in his fist, that he had been about to chuck at Draco, when the wicked little thought entered his brain. Should I? Dare I? He'll kill me for sure. But oh, it'll be fun! I must be out of my mind! He thought even as his hand drew back and he sent the large mudball flying directly at the unsuspecting figure.

SPLAT!

The mud hit Snape right in the chest, all black and oozing.

Draco's mouth fell open. Then he smirked and lobbed a missile of his own at his godfather, who was still frozen in shock at his son's daring. That one caught Severus on the leg.

The Potions Master blinked, then his eyes narrowed. "Do you know what this means, children?" he queried in a deadly soft tone.

Draco looked at Harry. "Run, Harry!"

"This means . . .WAR!" bellowed Snape, and in an instant he had gathered two mud balls and threw them with unerring accuracy, nailing Harry in the side of the neck and Draco on the arm. Then he conjured six or seven more and sent them after the boys, who shrieked, "No fair using magic!" and fled.

"All's fair in love and war, brats!" chuckled their father, pursuing them, grinning evilly.

Draco and Harry ran across the lawn, seeking shelter, armed with mud collected from themselves, which they began to throw at Severus, who was now using his wand to shoot jets of water at them as well.

"Harry, we've got to get some kind of strategy going, he's kicking our arses!" Draco yelled, ducking a mudball and a jet of water.

"Like what?" Harry shouted, gasping as a stream of water struck him on the backside, hard enough to sting a little. He jumped and spun around, hitting Severus with a mudball. "Take that, Dad!"

"Catch, brat!"

Three mudballs flew at the young Gryffindor, hitting him simultaneously in the face, neck, and stomach.

But Severus's clever maneuver left him open in return to a sneak attack from Draco, who in a fit of daring to rival his Gryffindor brother, tackled his godfather about the knees and knocked him right into a large puddle of mud and water.

"Go, Draco!" Harry whooped.

Severus reached an arm back and hauled his godson off him, shoving the smirking boy into the mud beside him. "Little sneaking weasel! That'll teach you!" The professor's black robe and trousers were dripping with mud, as was his face and hands, he looked just as bad as his two sons. Before he could retaliate, there came a soft cough from behind and a voice he had not heard in over a year said, "Sun and Stars, can this be Severus Snape, playing in the mud and having fun like a normal person? It's a miracle! Can I play too?"

Severus sprang to his feet and whirled around so fast that clods of mud flew off and hit Draco in the face. "Sarai! Great Merlin! Uh . . ."

"Hello, Sev. Long time no see, but better late than never. And who are these children? Your apprentices?"

"Uh, no, they're my sons. By blood and choice." Severus explained, casting a hasty cleaning charm on himself, then striding forward to embrace the diminutive woman, who had once been his teacher, a half-blood of the Prince line, who was standing there laughing.