A Summer Like None Other

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or this fictional universe. JK Rowling, some publishers, and some film companies own everything. I'm not making anything from this except a hobby.

Timeline and Caveats: See Chapter 1.

Thanks need to go to clauclauclaudia and Rhonda for the beta work, and to Mercredi for helping out with some key scenes.

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A Summer Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Eight: Lessons

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They hadn't even walked a block before Draco wanted to turn back to the pool. "I should have asked her out, after all," he said in a thoughtful voice. "Don't you think?"

"Another day will do for that," said Snape.

Draco started shaking his head. "I can't wait. I have to go back, find out what time she gets off for lunch... hmm, maybe she works straight through until three. Well, that's all right; I can wait. I'm not hungry..." He suddenly stopped walking. "I will need some time alone with Rhiannon, I hope you understand. It's safe enough, here. You and Harry can go off shopping or something--"

"Another day," repeated Snape.

"But I have to know that you're going to let me have some time on my own," said Draco, his voice growing frantic. "This won't do at all, this hanging about together all the time--"

"Allow me a few moments to consider the matter before you badger me."

Snape's voice was approaching stern, Harry thought. Draco must have realised that too, since he stopped whingeing on about seeing Rhiannon again. Though wasn't it strange that he wanted to see her at all, considering? Harry didn't know what to make of it. Then again, she had been walking around in a swimsuit. Draco wasn't used to seeing girls wearing so little; he'd said so. Maybe he'd been so focussed on her legs and cleavage that he'd yet to realise that she was a Muggle.

Though it wasn't much like Draco to ever overlook things like that, or be slow to figure things out.

As soon as they Apparated into the meadow in front of the cottage, Draco rushed through the door. Harry found him in their bedroom, the wardrobe doors flung wide. He was standing in front of them, actually chewing on his own thumb as he considered the clothes hanging inside. More than that, he was talking to himself. "A casual lunch? Or something fancier? Hmm, maybe best to ask her out for dinner to start--"

He abruptly stopped talking when Harry walked fully into the room.

Harry wasn't sure quite what to say. You're completely off your head didn't seem like such a good idea. "Turns out that swimming's harder than I thought."

Draco kept flipping through his clothes. "Well, the last time you did have fins--"

"More like flippers." Flopping onto his bed, Harry sighed. Then he rolled over onto his side. "I almost thought I was going to drown."

"In the lake?"

"No, in the pool today. Well, at least one thing is finally cleared up."

Draco's voice was cool. Or Arctic, maybe. "And what would that be?"

Oh, God. Harry suddenly felt sick. For a moment there, he'd almost started to believe that Draco didn't care if Rhiannon was a Muggle. Which would be good, considering, even if he was on the rebound from Pansy's horrible betrayal. But now it seemed clear that Draco was persisting in his delusions about the girl.

"Look," said Harry, abruptly sitting up. "Let's just think about this rationally. How many witches do you suppose hold down summer jobs at Muggle swimming pools?"

Draco looked down his nose at Harry. "Well, I don't know. Probably depends on how many have uncles who own pools and insist they work at them in return for a place to stay."

"Her uncle owns the pool?" Harry frowned. "Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"Oh, he might be a Muggle. Why should I care? He's her uncle by marriage, not blood. And in any case, she doesn't seem to like him very much, which shows commendable good taste, doesn't it, and--"

Harry couldn't help saying it. "You're completely off your head."

Instead of getting angry, Draco just shrugged. "So Rhiannon's aunt married a Muggle. So what? I don't happen to think it's a very sound idea, but I'm hardly going to hold it against her."

"Did she say that she was a pureblood with a Muggle uncle?"

"As good as."

"As good as," repeated Harry. "I think you'd better ask her straight out if she's a witch, Draco."

"I think he'd better not," said Snape in a deep voice.

Harry glanced toward the doorway, startled. How long had their father been standing there?

"Suppose she isn't a witch? Bringing the matter up would be awkward at best, and necessitate a Ministry inquiry at worst."

"Suppose she isn't a witch," mocked Draco. "Do you think I spent all those years under Lucius' tutelage without learning how to read people?"

"Yes," said Harry bluntly. "You thought I was awful, remember?"

"Potter, you were awful according to my values of the time," said Draco, eyes glittering. "Now, as regards Rhiannon, she was speaking in the kind of guarded language I'm very well used to. Her parents and her uncle are different sorts, she said. It couldn't have been clearer! She was throwing euphemisms about because she couldn't speak freely, since she must have thought that I didn't know a thing about magic!"

Harry threw up his hands. "Well, if you can't mention it in case she doesn't know, and she can't mention it in case you don't, then how are we ever going to find out the truth?"

Draco shrugged. "I know the truth already, thank you very much."

"No, you don't--"

The other boy's voice shifted to a higher pitch. "Are you saying that it's impossible for her to be a witch, Harry? Well? Are you?"

Harry was about to retort that yes, it bloody well was impossible, but Severus beat him to it. Except, he didn't say that at all. "Introduce your brother again," he said instead. "That should clear the matter up."

"Huh?"

Draco had caught on, though. "Oh," he said, sounding fascinated. "That's spot on, Severus. What a good idea." He grinned in Harry's direction. "I referred to you only as Harry, remember? And your fringe was down over your scar. Still looks plastered to it, in fact. Could be a side effect of that nasty chlorine."

Harry stared in dismay from his father to his brother. "Oh, great. Now my name gets to be some sort of test to see if she's heard of the wizarding world?"

"Not if, Harry," said Draco. He was frowning, though. For a moment Harry hoped it was because he was realising that Rhiannon really might be a Muggle. But, no such luck. "Wait. Maybe that's a bad idea, Severus. People hang all over Harry when they first meet him, and I'm not about to have Rhiannon getting stars in her eyes for anyone but me."

"You're just afraid to find out that she's a Muggle!"

"I don't have to prove anything to you. Not about Rhiannon, or anything else."

"I'll be introducing Harry again myself, if you don't," said Severus, pushing off from the wall. "I want this matter settled so that you two can stop using it as fodder for disagreement."

"Fine, whatever." Draco glanced again at the clothes in his wardrobe. "Can I go back to Exeter to meet her when she gets off work?"

"No."

"But I need to," said Draco in a wheedling voice. "I practically promised--"

"You did no such thing. You'll see her when we go for Harry's next lesson."

"But--"

It seemed to Harry that Draco's interest in the girl was more like an obsession. But he didn't think saying so would make any difference, so he tried to go about things the way a Slytherin would. What would make Draco stop longing to see her so soon? "You know," he said, resting a hand on his brother's arm, "if you rush back there, it's going to seem like you're desperate. Is that the impression you want to give?"

"Oh, Wednesday, fine." Draco made a face, but his expression brightened almost immediately. "Oh, I know! Let's go to Diagon Alley! I want to get her something from Fiery Gems!"

"A present already? That might look desperate, too--"

Draco brushed Harry's hand away. "You obviously don't understand being in love. I'm not going to give it to her for a while, not until we're closer, but I want to be able to say that I bought it for her the first day we met." He glanced toward the doorway. "Take us to Diagon then? Please, Dad?"

Snape's expression went a tad sour. "Perhaps you could try calling me that when you don't want something from me."

"What?" Draco looked astonished. "I don't do that--"

"You do, actually. I can recall only one time when you said it in other circumstances."

Draco glanced from Snape to Harry, his brow wrinkled. "Have you noticed this?"

"Um..."

Draco looked quite upset, then. "I'm sorry." Without saying anything more, he closed the wardrobe doors and sat down on his bed.

He really must be, Harry thought. Draco didn't apologise very often, and right now he looked... well, pretty disturbed, actually. "Look, it took me ages to figure out the names thing--"

"Yeah, and you told me it was none of my business what you called Severus, so stay out of this," said Draco. "I really am sorry, sir. I'd say Dad now, but you'd probably just think that I want something again. Or still. Or..." Draco's voice seemed to break over the last syllable.

"Draco," said Snape in a deep voice as he sat down next to the boy, "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't think it would help you to know. To understand yourself better."

An awful gulping noise. "I'll talk it over with Marsha tomorrow."

"Do that. Yes."

"It's just..." Draco suddenly sighed. "You know. Lucius wasn't the kind of father you are. Not that I called him Dad, anyway. It's just that I'm used to... I don't even know how to explain."

"You don't have to explain." Snape smiled, a little bit wryly. "Though if you would like to, once you think yourself able, I shall be more than happy to listen."

"Thank you," whispered Draco.

By then, Harry was feeling like he should have left the room five minutes earlier. He started to move toward the door, only to see Draco shake his head. "It's all right, Harry. I think you've seen me in worse straits than this."

Venetimorica, right, thought Harry, though he kept his expression carefully blank.

Draco's expression was still troubled as he went on, "So, Severus. With that lot all wrapped up, I don't suppose you'd... er, take us out to Diagon, now? Or let me go alone? I'll be back in three shakes of a dragon's tail, and--"

"I do believe that the purchase of anything from a wizarding shop would be ill-advised until you know for certain that the young lady is aware of our world."

"I am certain--" Draco broke off. When he spoke again, he sounded resigned but resentful. "But you're not, and residual magic and all that. Fine. Though I will note for the record that you're taking Harry's side."

"The side of caution, I would term it."

Draco scowled.

Snape looked more amused than annoyed by that. "Perhaps we an reach some sort of accommodation. I'm a bit surprised you haven't thought of one, already. Though I do realise that your mind at present is filled with... other matters." By the last few words, his voice was filled with mirth.

Oh. Harry felt like a light bulb had just turned on inside his head. Snape was finding Draco's crush amusing. That made Harry wonder if the whole thing was reminding the man of a romance in his own past. Or maybe Snape had never been in love at all, and that was the source of his sympathy.

"Accommodation," said Draco, a little suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

"As you mentioned, we're due in Surrey tomorrow. I've no objections to visiting a few Muggle establishments there."

Harry had objections. Plenty of them. This was going to turn out badly, he just knew it. Even if Rhiannon was a witch, Draco had clearly fallen for her on the rebound. He was either going to get his heart broken, or he was going to make an arse of himself when he found out she was a Muggle. Either way, Harry didn't want to stand by and watch it happen.

"We're supposed to visit Dudley," he reminded his family.

Draco sniffed. "And we have so much else to do on a Tuesday. Yes, it's entirely impossible to go shopping and visit your cousin before we drop by Marsha's office."

Put like that, it did sound ridiculous. And Draco had just said your cousin, not your Muggle cousin, at least. "Yeah, I know where the shops are," Harry admitted, trying not to sound grudging about it. "We'll go early and have a look around before we have dinner with Dudley. All right."

Draco nodded, clearly cheered. He didn't even say anything rude about the prospect of eating dinner with a Muggle. That was something, Harry thought. Now, if he could just get Draco to accept the facts about Rhiannon Miller.

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Draco, unfortunately, was being far more emotional than factual. Harry had proof of that the very next afternoon.

"A diamond necklace?" hissed Harry as he stood beside Draco in a jeweller's. "You're joking!"

"It's a pendant," said Draco in a snooty voice. "And no, I certainly am not. Rhiannon's worth every carat."

"Look, when you said you wanted to buy her a gift, I thought you meant a music box or something!"

"Please. As if they even sell those at Fiery Gems."

How would Harry know what they sold? He didn't visit jewellery shops! He turned in appeal to their father, standing close alongside. "You put your foot down about the buttons he likes, remember? Tell Draco he can't buy something like that for a girl he barely even knows!"

Snape shrugged. "The buttons were different. A public lack of discretion. A private gift like this is another matter entirely, and up to your brother. It's his money, after all."

No, it's mine, Harry almost said. He knew that would be a bad idea, though. "Fine. But this is a mistake. It really is. You're not supposed to give diamond pendants to people you've just met!"

"She'll love it," snapped Draco. As if to show Harry, he nodded to the clerk who was hovering. "And she'll need something to hang it from. Let me see a selection of your finest chains."

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"Oh, relax, why don't you?" Draco seemed in good spirits by then, his gait brisk as they made their way to Privet Drive. "What's it to you if I buy my girl a trinket?"

"She's not your girl and that's not a trinket!"

"Are you sure you don't want her for yourself, Harry?"

Harry snorted. "Not my type."

"Then who is?"

"I don't know, all right?"

"And there I had thought we were past quite so much squabbling," remarked Snape in a dry voice.

Harry held in his retort and said nothing more until they were coming up the walk of the newly rebuilt house at Number Four. "Perfect manners," he said then, with a meaningful look at Draco.

His brother nodded, the gesture almost regal.

"Harry!" cried Dudley the minute the door opened. He grabbed Harry in a hug, then let him go just as quickly. Then he was smiling at the others. "Draco. Professor Snape. Good to see you again."

Harry almost gaped, he was so astonished at Dudley's appearance. He'd lost a lot more weight since he'd visited them before Christmas. A tonne. Well, perhaps not literally, but still... "Dudley! You look brilliant!"

"The diet's done wonders, yes," added Draco, with a look towards Harry as if to gloat, See? Perfect manners.

"I started to stall, so I switched to a low-carbohydrate approach," said Dudley. "You know, no sugar, no bread, no noodles, that sort of thing. It got me right back on track." He waved for them to come into the house.

"You'll want to watch that you don't become deficient in niacin," said Snape as he swept inside.

"Yeah, Marsha's got me on some supplements. Don't worry."

Snape's raised eyebrow announced that he was hardly worried about the matter.

"So, the tour first, or dinner?" asked Dudley. "You want to see your old room, Harry?"

"Oh, we stopped by here one night," Harry said. "I noticed there was no more cupboard under the--"

Dudley flushed. "God, Harry. I didn't mean that place. But yeah, I thought you might feel better about visiting me here if that was just gone, so..."

Harry smiled to show that he appreciated it. "So you're going to keep the house? It's kind of big for just one person, I'd think."

"Oh, Piers is living with me, now. He's got a job as a security guard."

"Oh," said Harry, unsure how to take that. He'd never much liked Piers. To say the least. "He's at work now?"

"Yeah, but he'll be home in a bit. Said he's looking forward to seeing you again, Harry."

Harry almost asked why, but decided he didn't really care. To his recollection, Piers had always seemed to enjoy bullying Harry as much as Dudley had. He found it hard to believe the other boy would be keen to turn over a new leaf just because Dudley had.

Dudley showed them around the house, then, clearly proud of how the reconstruction had turned out. Despite the fact that the new home followed the blueprints of the old--with a couple of notable exceptions--Harry found the tour rather fascinating. In many ways the home was the opposite of what it once was. Where Aunt Petunia had filled the house with porcelain bits and chintz pillows and ruffled drapes, Dudley's décor was very plain indeed.

In fact, Harry had a hard time picturing the old clutter crowding these shiny wood floors and stark white walls. Even the kitchen and loo were sleek with brushed steel and glossy wood. Harry couldn't help but comment aloud on how clean everything was. Based on the state of Dudley's childhood bedroom, he'd expected a grand mess. And it's not as though he's ever had to do a single thing for himself around the house before, Harry thought.

Harry didn't think his thoughts were showing on his face, but they must have been, because Dudley suddenly grinned. "Just in case you were wondering, Aunt Marge pays for the cleaning. She says two young men can't be expected to shift for themselves."

Two young men she liked, Harry took that to mean. Aunt Marge had certainly never had a problem watching Harry wash and clean and scrub!

Dudley didn't seem to notice his thought that time. "Well, any road, I know you've got your own home now, Harry, but I thought you should still have a room here." He looked a bit anxious as he gestured to a door. It led into the room that Harry had always thought of as Dudley's second bedroom.

Harry glanced back to his father and brother. Draco looked bored, which was clearly his polite attempt to refrain from looking disgusted. And while anyone else would have thought him uninterested, to Harry's discerning eye, Snape appeared to be examining his surroundings as if he were expected to report his findings.

When Dudley opened the door, Harry was overcome with a vivid memory of the exact sound of numerous locks tumbling out of place. A prickly sensation ran down his arms for just a moment, but the sensation fled the moment he stepped over the threshold. Not Dudley's second bedroom any longer, he thought, a warm feeling washing through him. The room was the same small size as ever, but that was about the only thing it had in common with its previous existence. Now, the walls were painted a familiar shade of crimson and a fancy new set of matched furniture filled the room... including a bed complete with curtains. The room even had gold-coloured drapes and brass lamps.

Harry couldn't help it; he stood there gaping like a fish.

Draco came to his rescue, his voice as dry as Harry had ever heard it. "Well, well, well. Seems to me that you've got a whole Gryffindor room to yourself here, Harry. So next year, our room at in the dungeons is green on both sides."

As Harry came out of his daze, he noticed that Snape didn't appear amused. But before Harry could really question it, the man abruptly suggested that he could do with a cuppa. Harry thought it a terrible suggestion at first. He had serious doubts that Dudley could boil water, but to his shock, his cousin served a passable blend, complete with lemon slices, in colourful cups so large that Harry suspected they'd been designed for soup.

Harry noticed Draco giving his a long stare before putting it near his mouth, but at least he didn't say anything, this time. After all, when Dudley had first waved them over to a huge black leather couch, Draco had made a complete hash of things. The moment they'd sat down, the cushy furniture had squeaked loudly and seemed designed to swallow people into its puffy depths. Draco had pulled a face and asked, too loudly, "Is it supposed to do that?"

Harry had nearly kicked him.

Now, he made an effort to ignore the way Draco was pretending to drink his tea, and asked, "So, Dudley. You must have some plans by now. What are you thinking of, career-wise?"

"Guess I'd better decide soon." Dudley shrugged. "I've been living on Dad's life insurance, and of course insurance paid for all this." He waved a hand. "But that won't last forever, though I thought sharing expenses with Piers would stretch it."

"Good thinking," said Harry, though he'd much rather Piers was nowhere in the picture. He glanced around the room, which seemed a veritable shrine to an enormous telly and assorted entertainment electronics surrounding it on glass shelves. The house may seem bare, but Harry knew that it hadn't been.

"It seemed only fair," Dudley continued, "as Piers helped me decorate and all. He's got a flair for it."

"Does he?" Harry asked weakly, something suddenly occurring to him. Dudley had never had any girlfriends, really. Harry had assumed that was just because he'd been such a fat and unpleasant person. But maybe there was more to the story than that. "Er... are you and Piers, er?"

"No!" Dudley laughed. "Of course not!"

"Oh, sorry," said Harry. "It's just that you said he was living with you, and..." He shut up before he made an even bigger arse out of himself.

"Rooming, I should have said." Dudley shrugged. "I put him up in mum and dad's room. Couldn't bear to take it for myself." The plump boy sighed. "Though I guess you probably know that Piers does play for his own team. I don't care, as long as he doesn't bring his boyfriends around here. He's not allowed overnight guests, see. Terms of his lease. His parents threw him out for having too many wild parties. When I decided to let him live here, I decided he wasn't going to be wrecking the brand-new furniture and such."

Too much information, Harry thought, frowning.

Dudley suddenly frowned as well. "Oh. Is that a problem for you, Piers being gay? I can tell him to make himself scarce until--" He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Harry. Dad would have had a problem with it, I know, but I got the idea from Marsha that wizards didn't care about things like that."

Oh, great. Now Harry couldn't say that he'd rather not see Piers! "Wizard prejudices tend to centre on other things," Harry said, with a sidelong glance at Draco, who gave Harry a superior look in reply.

"Good, because Piers made the dessert, so I'd really hate to tell him he can't have dinner with us."

Harry started. This was just getting worse and worse! He looked toward his father in desperation, for once wishing that the man would use a touch of Legilimency on him. But Snape still seemed intent on studying the house. Harry had the feeling that the man was reaching out with some sort of magic, trying to test if any trace remained of the wards and spells that had once been attached to Number Four Privet Drive.

So when it came to avoiding Piers, Harry was on his own. "Oh. Um, I sort of thought we'd all go out for dinner, Dudley. You know, you, me, Draco, Severus." What he meant to say was, everyone but Piers. He wasn't sure quite how to say it without giving the wrong impression, though.

"Oh, no. No, I can't." Dudley was shaking his head.

"My treat--" Harry didn't have much Muggle money with him but he figured he could borrow some from Draco, who had taken to carrying outrageous sums around. No wonder, if he was going to splurge on diamond pendants and the like. Harry still couldn't believe that Snape hadn't put a stop to it.

"I really can't, Harry," said Dudley, his voice almost pleading now. "You can't restaurants not to sneak a little cornstarch or flour into what they serve you. And they never admit the truth. No, I planned a healthy low-carb dinner. And Piers loves to cook, so he made this custard thing from my diet cookbook."

"But surely just a little bit of flour wouldn't matter--"

"It'd derail my diet for days."

Dudley was still a little pudgy, Harry thought. Plump, even, but he'd made such tremendous progress that Harry couldn't make demands that would set him back. "All right, then." He smiled weakly. "Dinner here sounds great."

"Let's go out on the back patio and I'll get the barbecue started. I bought some good steaks." Dudley headed out the French doors.

Draco chuckled, leaning close to Harry as he spoke in a very low voice. "Think he'll serve them with that sauce his dad used to make?"

Harry flushed, remembering the letter he'd written but never sent. "Shut up. Don't you dare say that where he can hear you."

"Would I do a thing like that?" Draco sailed past, grinning widely. "So, Dudley. What are the different jobs you've got up for consideration, eh?"

"Mention of this Piers appears to disturb you," said Snape, taking Harry's arm before he could go outside with the others.

Harry was surprised his father had noticed. Perhaps Snape had been paying attention to more than he'd realised, but Harry still didn't want to talk about it. "It's all right. He and I just... never mind."

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As it turned out, Piers didn't get home until just before Dudley was ready to serve. "Harry," he said, smiling in sort of an oily way. Just seeing it gave Harry a creeping feeling. "Good to see you, good to see you!"

Harry didn't see anything good about it. "Piers." he said levelly. Hmm, maybe trying for Draco's so-called perfect manners would be the way to handle this. "I don't know what Dudley's told you. About my new family? This is my father, Severus Snape, and my brother, Draco Snape."

Piers gave Draco a definite appraising glance, looking him up and down in almost the same way Draco looked at girls. Harry would have known then, even if Dudley hadn't said anything, that Piers was attracted to his own sex. The shocking part, though, was that when Piers turned back toward Harry, he gave Harry the exact same kind of appraisal.

And he acted as though he liked what he was seeing. "Dudley did mention your adoption, yeah. But I can't see why you'd need a father now, Harry. You're all grown up."

He said that like he was thinking of all sorts of grown-up things he could do with Harry.

Harry was torn between extreme irritation and complete disbelief. It was more than a little off-putting to realise that Piers was interested in that with him. But then again, he'd given Draco a look and a half, too.

So perhaps Piers was the type who'd hook up with anyone willing. That went along with the stories about wild parties, Harry supposed, but he still thought Piers had a lot of nerve to even consider that sort of overture after the way he'd treated Harry for years.

"I heard you made a special dessert," said Harry, deliberately moving away from Piers. For good measure, he took a seat in a lawn chair, choosing one between his father and Draco. Snape gave him a curious look, but Harry just shrugged in reply.

Dinner turned out to be steaks, grilled vegetables, and a pretty fancy salad. With the custard thing for dessert. Harry didn't much care for it, but perhaps that was because he'd been spoiled by the elves' wonderful crème brulée. Still, Piers kept fishing for compliments, from Harry and Draco both, so Harry finally said that it was tasty.

Draco seemed intent on demonstrating his talent for double-talk. "I've never had anything quite like this," he said, a sly grin creeping across his face.

Piers scooted his chair a little closer to Draco's. "So you like it, then? You really like it."

"I'd have to describe it as... oh, my goodness gracious. What would be the correct term? Singular, that's it."

"Singular?"

Harry could tell that Draco was thinking how stupid Muggles were.

"Without compare," he said, gesturing rather elegantly. "I can honestly say that it's the best low-carbohydrate dessert that's yet to grace my refined palate."

The only one, he means, Harry thought caustically.

Perhaps Draco had overdone that last bit; Piers began to look suspicious. "Yeah? You aren't eating much of it."

"Ah, well, that's the true indication of its quality, don't you know. A tiny taste suffices." Draco rubbed his stomach.

Harry saw their father's lips twitch.

Despite his moment's suspicion, Piers was clearly enraptured by Draco, Harry thought. He was fawning on his every word and looked as though he'd like to be the next thing Draco nibbled. Draco was either oblivious or found the whole thing amusing enough to keep going; Harry couldn't tell.

Either way, Piers was rather pathetic and Harry didn't want to watch any longer. "I'll help with the washing up," he volunteered, picking up a few dishes to cart inside.

"You're a guest here," said Dudley.

"Family," corrected Harry.

"Yeah, but you had to do enough of that when we were little--"

Ignoring him, Harry took the dishes inside and started loading them into the dishwasher. Dudley was still shaking his head when he followed, bringing more dishes. "But Marsha told me not to remind you how we used to treat you, Harry!"

"It's all right."

Unfortunately, Harry's ploy to get away from all things Piers failed a few moments later. Dudley had disappeared to use the loo, and the moment Harry was alone, it seemed, Piers sidled into the kitchen, leaning rather laconically against a counter as he watched Harry bend over to pour washing powder into the machine.

"You're looking good, Harry. Very good."

Harry straightened and turned around. "Oh, cut it out, Piers."

The taller boy's lips curled, just slightly. "Bad memories bothering you, Harry?" He edged a little closer, his fingertips drumming on the countertop. "Haven't you figured it out, though? If I was... a bit antagonistic at times, it was just because my father was a lot like your uncle. No tolerance for Nancy-boys." He grimaced. "I was trying to be, you know. Extra masculine, I guess."

"You were a bully and you know it."

"Kiss and make up?"

Harry scoffed. "As if."

"Don't you understand?" Piers slanted him a glance. "If I picked on you in particular--"

"If?"

"It only meant that I was attracted and didn't know how to handle it, Harry." Piers' teeth flashed in a smile that might have been dazzling in anyone else. Coming from Piers, Harry found it almost repulsive.

"It's not mutual," said Harry, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"Oh, that's just hard feelings talking." Piers leaned closer. "I was no worse to you than Dudley, you know, and you've obviously forgiven him--"

"That's enough," said Harry, trying for a stern tone as he leaned away. "I'm not interested, all right? So I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your... whatever, to yourself."

"Think you're better than me, do you?" Piers laughed, the sound a little bit ugly. "You always were a sanctimonious little prat. So what are you interested in, eh? Still talking to snakes?"

Harry wished he'd brought Sals, then. He'd have fished her out of his pocket on the spot. As it was, he was having a hard time controlling his anger.

Perhaps Piers sensed that. He abruptly backed away, though he was smirking. "Well, there are plenty of other fish in the sea, and you're hardly the best-looking bloke around. Take your brother, for instance. He's quite dishy, don't you think? And he didn't seem nearly as uninterested as you're pretending to be."

Not being able to take no for an answer, thought Harry, just proved that Piers was still a selfish bully where it counted. But it was actually amusing that he'd misread Draco's perfect manners for something else.

"Yeah, go talk to Draco," said Harry smugly. "Good idea. See if you can get him to eat some more custard. And then ask him about Rhiannon."

Piers' lips turned down. "Rhiannon."

"Yeah, long blonde hair and sings like an angel. Draco's got it bad for her."

Piers batted his eyes, just a little, going right back into flirtation. "Oooh, that's mean, Harry, dashing my hopes like that. But perhaps you're realising you shouldn't have been so quick to turn me down--"

"Harry, I do believe we'll be late for our appointment if we don't leave soon," said a voice from the kitchen doorway.

Snape. Harry whirled around, feeling just about as embarrassed as he'd ever been. His father, overhearing Piers' suggestive last comment. His face felt hot, his collar too tight.

But for all that, he was grateful for an easy escape. "Yeah, good," he quickly said. "I'll just find Dudley and say goodbye. See you later, Piers."

He felt someone's gaze on his back as he hurried down the hall to look for Dudley, but he wasn't sure if it was his father staring after him, or Piers. What he was sure of was that he suddenly wanted to whirl around and blast Piers with a blood-blister hex. Or something worse. And it wasn't just his wretched come-ons that had made Harry angry; it was his whole childhood and Piers' part in tormenting him. Dudley had really changed, which made him worth forgiving, but Piers... well, Piers was just worthless.

But vengeance was a bad impulse, wasn't it... Harry's arms began to itch something awful.

So much so, in fact, that he decided he'd better make sure he took the earlier session with Marsha, tonight.

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"It sounds to me as though you handled your cousin's roommate with aplomb," said Marsha, leaning back in her chair.

Harry frowned. "Maybe I didn't explain it right. I mean, it didn't seem that way to me, at the time. He just kept on and on, as if I hadn't already told him to forget it. Is he like that with everyone, do you think? I mean, has Dudley mentioned?"

"Harry," chided the therapist, her eyes warm even if her expression was stern. "You know perfectly well that I can't discuss a word of what Dudley might have said or not, not unless he's asked me to. We've been over this before."

"Yeah, I know." Harry shoved his sleeves up and gave his arms a long scratch, then sighed.

"Would you like some chewing gum?"

Harry nodded. The gum gave him something else to focus on, another physical sensation. Particularly the gum Marsha kept around. Cinnamon-flavoured, the taste of it was so biting that it almost made his eyes water. "Think I can have a couple of packs of this to take with me, get me through the week?"

"We've also talked about the hazards of dependence."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry slouched a little, stretching out his legs. Snape would have rebuked him at once to sit up straight and show the good doctor some respect, but Marsha didn't mind if he relaxed. Not that he could relax much when she prodded him with such uncomfortable questions.

"So Harry, do you feel you were more upset that Piers is attracted to you sexually or that he seemed to expect the same sort of forgiveness that you've shown Dudley?"

"What?" Harry sputtered, the question catching him off guard. "Well, both! I mean, it's not like I have anything against Piers because he's queer and he seems to think I'm physically fit or something. I'm not the sort to hold that against him. It's just--I'm so tired of people only being interested in me in some sick, evil way!"

"You think that Piers is sick and evil?"

Harry sighed. "All right, maybe not evil, not compared to Voldemort and such. But he just as much implied that he used to beat me up because he was attracted to me. That's sick if you ask me. And he thinks I should be flattered about it or something? You know, it's one thing for me to forgive Dudley. He is still family, at least. Not to mention that he doesn't want anything from me. He hasn't even asked me for money and I bet he knows by now that I've got plenty. Piers... yech, I don't even want to talk about him anymore."

"You implied that people only express sexual interest in you negatively. What makes you say that? I haven't got the impression that you think sex is something unpleasant or unwholesome."

Harry scrubbed a hand across his forehead. How did she get that idea? "No, of course not. It's just that lately, I mean, it's almost creepy. First Malfoy and now Piers. What is it about me?"

"Harry, do you mean Lucius Malfoy? You said he didn't harm you in that way."

"Oh he didn't. He just--" Harry sighed again. He really didn't want to talk about this at all. "He just sort of implied that he would, well, that he would have if he'd had the opportunity, you know? And um, later on, he said that I enjoyed it when he made me take off my shirt. Just like Piers implied that I was more interested than I let on. And I'm not!"

"No," said Marsha gently. "I can see that you're not." Her voice had taken on that soft tone that made Harry feel about six years old. "Clearly those sorts of statements are merely bullying and manipulation and I know that you're clever enough to see that. You have every right to feel violated. We've discussed before that abuse does not have to be physical to be potent."

Harry nodded, though he cringed at the word "violated." It made him sound so weak. He rubbed his arms, trying and, he suspected failing, to seem nonchalant. A change of subject was definitely in order.

"So, Draco'll probably tell you all about it, I guess, but he ran into that Rhiannon girl again. He's still pretending that she must be a pureblood like him, when she's not even a witch."

"You speak is such scathing tones," Marsha softly observed. "Why do you feel so strongly about the matter?"

Ha, trust Marsha to always bring matters right back to Harry. She almost never let him rant about Draco. No, he had to look at himself, she liked to say, because he was the only one he could change. Harry was actually pretty tired of it.

"I told you! It's because it's too soon, anyway. Draco was in love with Pansy for years, and I think he feels like he has to have a girl, so he's latched onto this one, and when he finds out she's a Muggle it's going to be ugly, that's all. Draco's so irrational about her that he might think she tricked him, and you know about his impulse control, and the last thing he needs, if he wants to be an Auror, is a notation that once he attacked a Muggle simply for being one!"

"Oh, I think you need to have more faith in him than that."

Harry scoffed. "What, you think he's going to take kindly to the news that he's been in love with a Muggle?"

"Perhaps not, but I doubt he'll take it as badly as you just implied."

Harry shrugged, feeling mulish.

Marsha smiled, her whole face softening. "I'm more interested in why you feel so invested in the matter."

And just like that, Harry felt something inside him snap. "He's got no business thinking of love when we should all be worried about Voldemort!" he suddenly erupted. "There's no telling what might happen next. There's a war on! I shouldn't even probably have asked for swimming lessons. I should be training harder, not practically taking the summer off!"

"Too much work and no play is no help to anyone. How much help will you be in the war if you've pushed yourself past your limits?"

"Ha. I'm not allowed limits," said Harry bitterly.

Marsha gave his arms a significant glance. "You have them, all the same."

His scratches felt like they were burning, then. Harry laced his fingers together to keep from rubbing them. "Obviously I do," he said tightly. "I just meant that from the moment I started Hogwarts I was being trained for battle! And the worst part was, I was too daft to notice, until my Dad pointed it out."

"So why do you now resent him for providing you with some rest and relaxation?"

Reasonable question, but nothing in his life had ever been reasonable, Harry thought. "It might get somebody killed. What if the one spell I don't learn today is the one I need when the war all comes to a head?"

"I think it's more likely that clear-thinking will be of use. Which brings us back to the idea of too much work. I see this all the time in the academic realm. Quite often, the students who study all the time do worse than those who know when to give themselves a well-needed break. You might consider that Draco is doing what he needs to do."

"Still doesn't change the fact that she's a Muggle," muttered Harry.

"Nor the fact that if she is, you can't protect him from it."

Harry stood up and fished the gum wrapper from his pocket, then walked over to the wastepaper basket and spat his gum out into the foil-covered paper. "I guess I'm used to protecting people," he said when he walked back. "No wonder I feel guilty, just goofing around this summer. Well, I am working on some things," he added, thinking of his spell lexicon. "But I still think that Draco's in for a bad time with this girl."

"What does your father think?"

"He doesn't say too much. But he did tell me that it's likely she's a Muggle, yeah. And he told Draco he had to introduce me as Harry Potter so we'd all know for sure."

"How did you feel about that?"

Without Snape or Draco there, Harry didn't have to worry about anyone's feelings. He had a few choice words about being Harry Potter again instead of just Harry. More than a few.

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Draco was up before Harry on Wednesday morning. Wearing nothing but swimming trunks, he was turning this way and that as he examined himself critically in the mirrors on the inside of the wardrobe doors. Harry blinked, reaching for his glasses, but Draco didn't seem to notice that he was awake and watching.

"Hmm. Maybe blue, after all," said Draco, twirling his wand to make his trunks change colour. "No. I still look awfully pale."

Harry sat up, careful not to be too quiet about it, but Draco didn't seem to mind Harry being there. "What do you think? Should I cast a glamour to give myself a bit of a tan? I didn't like the way Rhiannon said that I didn't look like I swam much."

"You don't look like you'd tan, though," said Harry.

Draco cast a glamour anyway, and then shivered a little. "Oh. No. No, no."

"Doesn't look natural," agreed Harry. "So are you really going to introduce me as Harry Potter, like Dad wants?"

"Dad didn't give me much choice."

Harry tried hard to keep his voice level. "What are you going to do if she's a Muggle, Draco?"

"She's not. She's absolutely not, and if you hadn't been raised in such a deprived atmosphere, you'd be able to tell that for yourself. She's got a certain je ne sais quoi."

"Well, I guess we'll know soon."

Not too soon, though, as it turned out. Rhiannon wasn't anywhere to be seen when Harry emerged from the changing rooms to start his lesson, though again, there was a line of children waiting at the wading pool. Harry couldn't resist. "Whatever she is, she doesn't do a very good job here. Late every day?"

Draco glared at him and plucked Harry's glasses off his nose. "Just go blow your bubbles."

Harry headed toward the big pool, where Roger was waiting. This time he felt less nervous about stepping down into the water. As much as it had felt like he might drown during the previous lesson, he'd learned that Roger wouldn't let him. Or Severus or Draco, of course. But this was Muggle swimming, wasn't it, so Harry felt better now that he had a little confidence in his Muggle instructor.

They started with floating again. This time Harry could manage it for a few seconds at a stretch. The trick was to relax. Roger had told him that before, but Harry hadn't really been able to put the advice into practice. After his session with Marsha, though, he had a new perspective on relaxing. It really could be important. Maybe he wasn't wasting his summer, after all.

Though he did wish he could be more actively investigating the Mirror of All Souls. Well, maybe Hermione would find something out once she got some books from Viktor.

"Let's try some kickboard, now," said Roger after a few more minutes of practicing floating. "You need to learn how to kick effectively. Then we'll add arms and you'll be surprised how quickly it all comes together."

When Harry glanced up through the water dripping into his eyes, Draco was still sitting on the concrete bleachers, right alongside their father. He couldn't tell for sure if Rhiannon war around yet, but since Draco just looked bored, she probably hadn't.

"Try putting your face in the water as you kick across the pool," said Roger.

And that was the end of Harry trying to spot what might be going on with Rhiannon. He did notice at one point that Draco was diving into the deep end of the pool. He started swimming laps back and forth, staying well away from Harry's lesson.

Even so, Harry couldn't help but see that Draco looked to be an expert swimmer who knew lots of different strokes.

"You'll get there," said Roger in a bracing voice. Only then did Harry realise he'd been staring. Studiously ignoring Draco then, Harry concentrating on keeping his legs from flopping in all directions as he practiced his kick.

"Good work today," said his instructor after about another half-hour.

Harry climbed out of the pool and shook himself all over, water spraying everywhere until Snape appeared and handed him a towel. Draco got out as well, but then he climbed the ladder to a springboard about a dozen feet above the water, and executed a very smart dive, complete with some kind of a twist.

Oh. Harry got it, then. Sure enough, when he glanced over toward the children's pool, Rhiannon was there, sitting in her lifeguard chair, leaning slightly sideways as if she'd rather sleep. She wasn't looking over at the big pool, though, so Harry figured that Draco's attempt to impress her was going to be a wasted effort.

And that, of course, was bound to be the least of his disappointments, since any moment now Draco would be finding out that she wasn't at all what he'd assumed. Feeling sorry for his brother, then, Harry gave him an encouraging smile and passed him the towel that Snape was holding out. "Really good dive."

Draco shrugged. "Not so hard to learn when you have the right, er, assistance."

Diving charms, Harry figured he meant.

Draco dried his hair and slicked it back with his fingers, then wrapped the towel around his hips. After a moment, he draped it around his shoulders instead. Then he shoved it at Harry. "I think maybe I should do without."

He actually flexed his chest muscles.

But Rhiannon still wasn't watching. As far as Harry could tell, she wasn't even aware that Draco was in the vicinity. Draco looked vaguely frustrated, as though he realised that and didn't know how to counter it.

Harry lowered his voice. "I'm surprised you went swimming instead of going over to talk to her."

Draco made a face. "Well, that lout of an uncle was yelling at her at first. For being late again. Poor breeding on his part, if you ask me. But in any case, I thought I'd better give her some time to forget she was related to such a toad. Besides, I didn't want her to say again that I didn't look like I ever went swimming."

"Perhaps you should mention as well that I wanted Harry present when you dropped his name," said Snape.

"Yeah, that too," Draco said, a bit sourly. When he slicked his hair back again, his hand was shaking a little, but any nervousness he might be feeling didn't show in his voice. "Well, prepare to be dazzled, and not just by her radiance. You're shortly to find out that I know exactly what I'm talking about when it comes to recognising quality."

Rhiannon looked up at the noise of the chain-link gate being unlatched and pushed open. "Oh, hello there," she said, in kind of a careless voice. "Darren, wasn't it?"

Draco pinkened and stood a little bit straighter. "Draco, actually."

"Oh. Sorry."

She didn't sound it, Harry thought.

"You remember my family, I think?" Draco didn't stop walking until he was at the foot of her chair, and then he beckoned Harry closer. But it was Snape he introduced first. "This is my father, Severus. He's a professor."

Rhiannon shifted in her chair, her whole attitude seeming to somehow harden. "Maths?"

Weird guess, Harry thought.

"No." Draco dropped his voice and almost whispered. "Potions."

Rhiannon's blonde eyebrows drew together. "Pardon?"

"Chemistry," Harry rushed to say.

"Oh. Science." Rhiannon's smile was thin. "How nice."

Quite clearly, she didn't think it was nice at all. But the fact that she hadn't heard of anyone teaching potions was proof enough, wasn't it?

Not for Draco, apparently. "And you met my brother already. Harry Potter."

Rhiannon's glance at Harry was entirely disinterested. "Uh-huh."

"The Harry Potter. You know." Draco's voice dropped still further. "Want to see his scar?"

Rhiannon actually recoiled. "What?" Then she glanced at Harry in that way people have, when they're trying not to look at someone in a wheelchair, but they can't help staring. Except, she was looking square at his stomach, and she was braced as though expecting to see some horrible disfigurement across his midsection.

"It's here," said Harry, sweeping his fringe aside. By then, he felt sorry for her. She clearly didn't have a clue what Draco was talking about.

"Oh. That's rather weird." Rhiannon tensed then, as though she hadn't meant to be rude. "Um, car accident, was it?"

"No--"

Draco hadn't said a word since Rhiannon's failure to recognise Harry's name. Harry was starting to feel sorry for him, too. It must be an awful shock. A humiliation, even, since he'd been so intent on proving Harry wrong about everything.

But clearly, Draco was neither shocked nor humiliated. He just looked... thoughtful, actually. Like he was figuring something out. Starting to understand something that had eluded him.

"So I thought you might like to have a bite of lunch with me when you got off," he said, leaning on Rhiannon's tower as he looked up the short distance to where she was sitting. "Three o'clock, wasn't it?"

Rhiannon flicked a glance at Snape. "Er... I'm working until five tonight. I just found out."

Harry figured that was her uncle's way of trying to make her show up on time.

"And then I've got rehearsal," said Rhiannon.

"Mozart." Draco nodded. "Is that at the same theatre where we saw you perform? Can I take you out for late supper when you're done there, then?"

"I have to get straight home."

Harry thought was torn between feeling bad that Draco was getting nowhere, and a kind of befuddlement that he didn't appear to be perturbed by the fact that Rhiannon was a Muggle.

"Can I watch you rehearse, then?"

This was getting to be embarrassing, Harry thought.

Rhiannon flicked another glance at Snape. And then one at Harry. "All of you?"

"No, just me." Draco threw a challenging look at Snape as he said it.

"Hmm. Well, the director does like to hear from people who've seen us perform. Especially if they're knowledgeable about opera." Rhiannon shrugged as though she didn't care one way or another. "Oh, very well. Half-past five at the theatre."

"I'll be there."

"Come to the back door." Rhiannon gave Draco one last absent nod before she turned back towards the children playing in the pool.

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Draco was grinning as he and Harry went into the changing rooms to get dressed so they could leave the pool. "So, that went well, I think."

"You really don't care that she's a--"

"Shhh," said Draco, motioning to some children coming in. They only looked to be about ten or so, and they were chattering with one another. Probably wouldn't hear a word that Harry or Draco would say, but Harry could just hear his father lecturing on discretion.

"But you don't care?"

"Nothing to care about," breezed Draco. "You don't get it yet, do you?"

Leaning over, he whispered in Harry's ear. Just two words, but they made Harry's heart sink like a stone in the deepest sea.

"She's passing."

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Coming Soon in A Summer Like None Other: "Bewitched"

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight and Mercredi

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Author's Notes:

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