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.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Rhonda and clauclauclaudia for their dedicated beta work, and also to Mercredi for helping me plot out the twists and turns.

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A Summer Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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Chapter Twelve: Something Fishy

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Draco was back at the pool by eleven fifty, but remembering Severus' advice about being obvious, he decided not to go in until it was twelve on the spot. It wouldn't do for Rhiannon to think he had nothing better to do than hang about waiting for her to get off.

Even if he didn't.

When he tried to go through the entrance building, however, he was stopped by none other than the Muggle uncle. "We're closed for lunch now," the man said, making a curt gesture toward a sign which detailed the pool's hours. He sounded like he doubted Draco could read. The nerve.

Draco was saved from answering by Rhiannon, who stepped into the lobby wearing a pair of snug denim shorts and a short-sleeved shirt that hugged her curves. Draco couldn't help but wonder if she'd had time to really change, or if she'd merely slipped some clothes on over her swimsuit. That thought made him feel a bit hot inside. He could almost imagine how she'd look, pulling up the tan shorts over her bright red suit. Or perhaps she'd stripped the suit off and pulled on some lacy knickers. White? Cream? Maybe black, with little strips of ribbon clinging to her hips . . .

"Uncle Stanley, this is Draco Snape," Rhiannon was saying in a level voice. Introducing him, Draco abruptly realised. He somehow managed to get his mind off what her knickers might look like. "He's the boy who walked me home from rehearsal the other evening. We're going out to lunch together."

Stanley. Draco was fairly certain he'd never heard a more Mugglish name than that one. Still, he tried to put his father's advice to good use. For all he knew, Rhiannon really might be offended if Draco was rude to her family, even if she did complain about them herself.

Bracing himself, Draco thrust out a hand. He knew the gesture looked stiff, but he couldn't help that. "Pleased to meet you," he said. He tried to add sir to the end, but couldn't quite manage it, no matter that he'd been taught all his life to exhibit perfect manners on demand. He hadn't been taught to exhibit them to Muggles.

The Muggle man obviously hadn't been taught manners at all, even if he did shake Draco's hand. But it was a perfunctory sort of gesture. Draco wasn't even sure if the man was aware they'd just been introduced. He was looking only at Rhiannon, his brown eyes narrowed, his mouth a tight line. "Your lunch break is over at one. Not one ten, not one fifteen. Is that clear?"

She nodded and took Draco's arm to guide him out of the building.

"I mean it, Rhiannon!"

Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something in her defence. But Severus was probably right about how she might react if Draco started criticising a member of her family. No matter how odious he was.

"Yes, I understand," she said, rolling her eyes a little. When she started tugging on Draco's arm, he wasted no time in getting them both away from the Northbrook Pool.

"Reminds me of Adrian, sometimes," she grumbled once they were on the street outside. "He's a wonderful director and helped me loads, like I told you, but he can be a real stickler for being on time, too. I wish my uncle would ease off. I get enough of that at rehearsals."

Draco smiled and nodded, just like Severus had suggested.

"Well, enough of that," said Rhiannon briskly. "How about fish and chips for lunch? My treat."

Draco wasn't sure what horrified him most, the prospect of such a vile lunch or the suggestion that she should be the one to pay. "Oh, no, no," he said, glancing up and down the street for anything that resembled a proper restaurant. Pity he hadn't planned this better. He really didn't know Exeter in the least. "I invited you out, so the least I can do is--"

"Don't be a prat about it." Rhiannon stepped up her pace. "You heard my uncle. I don't have a lot of time, and anyway, you paid last time at the café. It's my turn."

Draco was set to argue about that further, but he lost track of the thought--all thought, actually--when the wind picked up Rhiannon's long hair. She'd had it in a loose braid before, but she must have unbound it since she'd seen Draco last.

Sweet Merlin, she was gorgeous. Draco had told Harry that her hair was honey-blonde, but now he saw that it was really made up of a myriad of different hues. Some strands were positively golden; others were almost a reddish shade. Draco wanted to card his fingers through her hair. He wanted to stroke the tresses over her shoulders and run his hands down further, caressing the swell of her breast and the curve of her hips until she moaned under his touch, and--

"You like fish and chips all right, don't you?" asked Rhiannon, breaking across his fast-growing fantasy. "It's one of my favourites."

Draco didn't particularly want to eat fish, but if it was one of her favourites, that settled the matter for him. "Oh, I like it just fine," he said, suddenly deciding that this was probably a case of when in Rome, do as the Romans. She'd been raised Muggle and obviously saw nothing wrong with taking turns, as she'd put it, so Draco could go along, even if it meant pretending he couldn't be happier to eat fried food in a grotty little pub.

A moment later, he was profoundly glad he hadn't complained about her choice of menu. Rhiannon gave him a genuinely warm smile. "Some of the boys I went to school with wouldn't be caught dead eating fish and chips in the park, but I knew you weren't a thing like them."

They were going to eat in a park?

Draco decided he'd do whatever it took to make her happy. Besides, he might be rich, but he wasn't like those people who had hurt her feelings all through her years at her special music school. He didn't think any the less of her for being without adequate funds.

Though he was glad to see that she at least had some pocket change. He didn't want her to spend it on him, of course, but he still thought it a good thing that she wasn't completely destitute. For her sake, though. Not because he cared about things like that.

He didn't. He couldn't, not now.

They ended up getting take-away fish and chips from a small storefront on Beacon Lane. Draco paid close attention to everything, from how she ordered and paid to the fact that she grabbed small packets from a tray on the counter as she left.

He had to repress a shudder at the idea that he was going to eat something that had been stuffed into a paper bag. Talk about grotty. And that wasn't even counting the fact that she was obviously planning for him to drink straight from a plastic bottle. Draco was used to all his beverages being served in a proper glass and garnished as appropriate.

But at least he'd finally get to find out what Diet Coke tasted like.

Rhiannon found a little garden square and plunked herself down on the grass under a towering elm tree. Draco lowered himself to the ground a little more gingerly, and tried not to wince when she fetched the food out of the bag. The fish was actually wrapped in newspaper. How positively . . . Mugglish.

She hummed a little as she laid out the meal on the grass between them. "Vinegar?"

Draco was looking forward to the meal less than ever, but tried not to show it. "Oh. Er . . . yes. Thank you."

She tore open a couple of little packets and sprinkled their contents over the fish, then pushed a portion his way.

To Draco's surprise, the fish was actually quite good. Crispy and light, the fried coating wasn't very oily at all, and the chips were as delicious as any he'd had. Though of course, he didn't eat chips very often.

Diet Coke, on the other hand, was positively horrid. Draco took one swig of the bottle Rhiannon had opened for him and almost gagged. The stuff tasted like one of Severus' concoctions to stop a persistent cough. It even bubbled going down, like potions could sometimes do.

Rhiannon gave him a sympathetic glance. "Sorry. I should have got regular, huh? I didn't think. I just got you what I usually buy."

She actually liked this revolting liquid?

"So, tell me about your magic shows," she said after a moment. "What are your best tricks?"

"Oh, God, I don't know," said Draco, trying to sound as Mugglish as he could. He didn't think it had come out quite right, somehow, but pushed that thought aside as he tried to figure out what kinds of "magic" a Muggle performer might be able to fake. The trouble was, he really didn't have any idea what sorts of tricks stage magicians tended to do. Rhiannon probably knew a lot more about it than he did. He latched onto something she'd said to him before. "Um, making stuff disappear, I guess."

"Not a jet or the Statue of Liberty, though," she said, chuckling.

Draco didn't have the faintest idea what she was talking about, but after a moment he thought he could make sense of the first part. "No, no water," he murmured.

"Water?"

"A jet, you said."

Rhiannon slanted him a glance. "You have an odd sense of humour. But that's all right. I like it. So, what's the biggest thing you can make vanish, eh?"

What would be a reasonable answer, assuming he was only faking magic? "Oh. Er . . . a table, I suppose."

Her expressive blue eyes grew wide. "A whole table? You must be very good."

Shite. He'd guessed too big. "Well, just an occasional table," he added.

Rhiannon laughed. "I don't think I've heard anyone actually use that phrase before. But your trick still sounds impressive." Her voice grew wistful. "I'd really like to see it."

That would be a trick in itself, thought Draco. He'd love to show her some spells and see how she reacted, but he didn't want to get a letter from the Ministry warning him about underage magic. Severus would probably take his wand away. And it wouldn't look good later, would it, to have an infraction on his record. MLE probably didn't want Auror apprentices that had been in trouble, before.

Draco sighed. It was so unfair. He was nearly seventeen, after all. But he was also stuck. "I don't think I have any engagements lined up," he said, shaking his head. Strange how difficult it was to disappoint her. "Otherwise, I'd invite you along to watch me perform."

"Can't you do a trick or two just for me?"

"Uh--"

Rhiannon brushed her hair away from her face. "I know I shouldn't ask." Her smile was a little sad. "It's just . . . oh, it's too silly to even say."

Draco put down the chip he'd been about to eat. "What?"

She looked down at her hands. "I've always adored magic shows. When you showed me that wand the other night, it brought back a lot of memories. You see . . . when I was little, I thought magic was real. I loved watching magicians on the telly. My parents would tell me that it was all done with camera tricks, but I didn't believe them, not until I was . . . oh, pretty old, really."

Draco's breath caught in his throat. "How old?"

"Nine, ten, something like that." She glanced at him, very quickly. "You don't think I'm stupid, do you?"

"No, no, of course not." Draco gave her the warmest, most encouraging smile he could. "Magic's very attractive, right? Wonderful, in all its aspects. Of course you wanted to believe in it."

She stopped looking down so much, then. "It seemed like it ought to really exist! You know, I used to even do occasional magic acts for my parents. Tiny ones, with tricks I'd got from books. That should have been enough to tell me that it was all make-believe, but it wasn't. Deep down, I used to pretend that I really could pull flowers from my sleeve. Well, flowers that hadn't been there the moment before."

It was on the tip of Draco's tongue to tell her that she'd been right about that, about all of it. She was a witch, and this was proof, wasn't it, that deep down in her soul, she'd known as much. Her magic had been struggling to break free, all along.

No surprise, then, that it had found expression in her voice. Magic just couldn't ever be fully leashed, no matter the spells that might have been used, centuries earlier, to repress it in her entire family tree.

"Did you have a wand when you were little?"

Rhiannon laughed as she wiped her hands on a napkin. "Oh, yes. Nothing so grand as yours, which I thought was really beautiful, by the way. Elegant. No, mine was just a formed plastic model, stark black. I got it in a magic set one Christmas. I can't tell you how much I wanted it to really work for me, really do something."

"I understand," Draco murmured.

"So anyway, that's why I was hoping I could see some of your tricks," Rhiannon finished. "Even hearing about them gives me a bit of déjà vu. You know, it throws me back into that state of mind I used to have, when magic was real, and if I tried hard enough, I could make it work for me."

That's it, Draco thought. That's the solution to everything. It's the way to show her who and what she really is. Her love of magic, of magic shows.

All of a sudden, Draco was possessed of a longing . . . no, a burning need, to put his wand into her hand and see how she reacted to it.

But he couldn't do that out of the blue. He had to build up to it, so it would seem natural, so she'd be relaxed and happy when she took hold of his wand.

So she could hear it sing to her as it echoed the magic buried deep inside her.

"I'll do it," he suddenly said, his mind leaping ahead to ways to defeat the stupid underage magic laws. It was so silly that he was allowed to do as much magic as he pleased out in Devon, but here, where he needed it much more, he was being restrained. Well, there were ways around the law, surely. He could nick Severus' wand, for example.

"You'll show me some tricks?"

Not tricks, no. Spells. Real spells. The Statute of Secrecy really wasn't really an issue here, was it? She was a witch, after all. Not even the Ministry could complain about him demonstrating magic in front of someone who by right ought to be part of the wizarding world to begin with.

Though they would complain about the underage magic. Well, Draco would think of something. And if he couldn't, he'd just wait until his birthday had passed.

Ha, take that, Ministry, Draco thought.

"Oh, I'll put on a whole show for you, if you like," he said, smiling broadly. "And I know an awful lot of sp-- er, tricks. I bet some of them will make you believe that magic truly is real."

"It'd be wonderful to see your act." Rhiannon flashed him a grin, her teeth a startling white. "I'd be delighted, really. That's nice of you to offer."

"Oh, my pleasure," drawled Draco, meaning it from the bottom of his heart.

Rhiannon's voice was all at once more enthused than he'd ever heard it. "Can you pull a rabbit from a hat?"

"A whole herd of rabbits."

"And that rope thing, can you do that?"

"Mmm . . . remind me which rope thing you mean?"

"You know, you chop it up into pieces but make it come out whole again?"

All he'd need for that one was a Reparo. "Oh, sure. No problem."

"What about sawing people in half?"

Draco started, sure he must have heard that wrong. But no, she was making a little sawing motion with one of her hands, her gaze expectant as she looked at him. Hopeful, even.

Merlin's balls, she was actually serious!

Draco's stomach started churning. The moment she'd mentioned such a gruesome act, his mind had flown straight to the one topic he tried hard never to think about. Samhain.

He'd arrived in that clearing expecting to see Harry tortured. Worse, he'd been looking forward to it. He'd wondered what the Dark Lord would do to Harry Potter. He'd come up with some ideas, too. Ideas that made him shudder, now.

True, he'd never once thought about seeing Harry sawn in half, of all things, but he'd imagined other things that were just as horrible. Worse, even. And then, what he'd actually seen happen . . . Harry, held fast to the ground as he was stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. Harry's eyes, saved for last. Harry, blinded.

The whole thing had been utterly sickening.

And the worst part of all, perhaps, was that Draco hadn't thought so, not back then. He'd been too caught up in his paradigm shift, too shocked at learning the horrible truth that a life in the Dark Lord's service could only be a life of slavery. Besides, he'd hated Harry, and realising that Harry was braver and stronger than every Death Eater there had only made Draco hate him all the more. It was so unfair. Harry was the enemy, the one who'd scorned his offer of friendship. Who bested him at Quidditch, who spoiled the Dark Lord's plans, who was to blame for Lucius' brief stay in Azkaban. Harry was even at fault for that awful summer when Lucius had been enraged at the loss of an elf.

It wasn't right that he should exhibit pride and confidence while the Death Eaters grovelled at the Dark Lord's feet.

It wasn't right, but it was true, so Draco had done his best to cope. Getting Harry's wand. Befriending him like Severus and Dumbledore had ordered. Telling Slytherin the truth, even though they wouldn't listen.

Any more than he would have listened to someone claiming that a half-blood, any half-blood, was a better bet than the Dark Lord himself. The words raving loony came to mind. No wonder the others couldn't understand. They hadn't been in that clearing. They hadn't seen what Draco had seen.

The torture hadn't bothered Draco so very much at the time, but now, he found the whole thing profoundly sickening. True, he hadn't known back then that Harry would someday be his brother, but perhaps that was just the point. Harry was his brother now, and when Draco thought of what Lucius had done to him, when he thought of the way that he himself had simply stood there watching . . .

It was no wonder Draco was feeling ill.

He told himself that the fish must have been off, but he knew it was really the memories bothering him.

"Draco?"

Oh, right. Rhiannon wanted to know if Draco was in the habit of sawing people in half. Just the thought of it almost made him shudder, which showed how much he'd changed, he supposed. He didn't think it would have bothered him before Samhain. Or not much. "No, I don't do tricks like that."

Pushing his food away, he struggled to find a change of topic. His glance fell on a square sheet of newspaper that the breeze was trying to catch. Draco snatched it up and peered down at the headlines. "Oh," he said in as bright a voice as he could manage. "It says here that they're building a line from Paddington to Bayswater. Looks like a number of houses are going to be demolished to make way for it."

Rhiannon raised an eyebrow. "Very funny."

Draco didn't know what she meant, so he took a closer look at the broadsheet. Then he felt a perfect fool. It wasn't real! Or if it was, it wasn't anything close to current. The date at the top wasn't even in the right century!

"Bit odd they'd be wrapping the fish in newspaper over a hundred years old," he said, keeping his tone light in an effort to cover his confusion.

It must have worked, since that time, Rhiannon chuckled. "Hmm, good point. Say, you think it might be a reproduction?"

Oh. That made sense. Well, some, Draco supposed. "I don't really understand why they'd use newspaper at all, to be honest."

Maybe he shouldn't have been quite that honest. "You haven't had take-away fish and chips before, have you?"

"Uh . . ." Too late now to call his remark back. "No, actually."

She gave a slight sigh, as if that had come as a disappointment. "All right. Well, it's traditional to use newspaper, but then people started thinking the ink might be poisonous, something like that, so now they make special paper and print it with old headlines. I mean, the ink in that is supposed to be safe with food."

"Oh."

"I thought you were joking, that bit about the District Line. But now . . . you've never been on the Tube?"

Draco wasn't sure what the "Tube" was, but he knew better than to ask. It was something he ought to know, clearly, and he felt like he'd made enough gaffes for one date. He made a mental note to ask Harry about tubes later. "No. Can't say as I have."

Her gaze narrowed. "You probably go about in a fancy car. A Bentley, unless I miss my guess."

At least that time he could figure out what she meant by Bentley. "I've never once been in a Bentley." Or any car, he thought, but didn't say. Well, at least it seemed clear now that whatever this tube was, it involved transport. Draco couldn't imagine what kind, though. It sounded awful.

"That's good. Colin--he was the worst of the rich boys at Chatham, the absolute pits, really--used to brag about his father's Bentley constantly. I can't tell you much I wanted to smack him. People that go on about their money and try to show off how much of it they have . . ." She shuddered, then finished the last of her soda. "So, you said you went to school in Scotland? That's a long way."

She was hinting, trying to find out how he travelled there, Draco thought. She probably thought he'd gone by private car. Had some servant drive him, something like that. Well, this was as good a chance as any to let her see that he wasn't like those prats at Chatham. "Oh, yeah, it takes almost a full day just to get to my school. I go by train, of course."

He'd always thought that taking the Express along with the rest of the students, Muggle-borns included, was a tiny bit common. He'd have preferred to Floo to school. But now, he was relieved that he'd had some experiences Rhiannon would think of as normal.

"And your father teaches there. Um . . . is that just a hobby for him, something like that?"

Draco slanted her a glance, thinking the question a very odd one. "No. Oh, he likes his subject well enough, though. Why would you think it's just his hobby?"

Rhiannon shrugged, the motion a little defensive to Draco's eyes. "Well, in my experience, wealthy people don't work at jobs like that. They're in finance, or investments, that sort of thing."

"Oh," said Draco, catching on. "I think you've got hold of the wrong end, there. Severus isn't wealthy. Only Harry and I are." Then, realising that sounded a little bit daft, he decided he'd better explain. "Harry's father left him a lot of money, you see. And I ended up with a bequest from a distant relative. Bloke I'd never met, actually. But none of that has anything to do with Severus."

Rhiannon's lips thinned. "Your brother's rich, too? He doesn't act it."

"Well, it's kind of complicated, but he didn't know he had any money until just a few years ago. He'd been orphaned, and he grew up with relatives who weren't very nice to him, but then they died too, and Severus adopted him."

"You grew up with money, though."

She said it like it was a character flaw. Those rich kids must have given her a harder time than Draco had realised. Clearly, she didn't trust wealthy people and was overlooking the money, in Draco's case.

"Yes," he simply said.

"But you're adopted, so your parents must have died. But you're rich because of some distant relative, not because of your parents?"

Draco swallowed. He wanted to explain to her that only his father was gone, but he couldn't do that, could he? Remus Lupin's mission was important, and sooner or later, Rhiannon would be taking her rightful place in the wizarding world. He couldn't have her telling people that Lucius Malfoy had died.

"I'm adopted because my own family cut me off," said Draco stiffly. Even now, it was a little hard to contemplate, let alone talk about. But he wanted Rhiannon to know him. "Disinherited me, said I wasn't worthy to bear the family name, and so on and so forth. And I'd known Severus for years, and got on with him really well, so when things at school got a bit rough and I needed a parent, he adopted me, as well."

Rhiannon had looked sympathetic through a lot of that, but by the end her lips were twisting. "Was that before or after you got this bequest?"

It took Draco a moment to understand what she was suggesting. "Oh, no. You've got that wrong. He didn't adopt me because of the money."

"Just seems a bit suspicious, his somehow adopting not just one but two sons with money of their own."

"He thought I didn't have a single Gal-- er, any money. Any money at all. It was only quite a bit later that I got the bequest."

"What about with Harry?"

Draco raised his shoulders. "He didn't adopt him out of greed. You can trust me on that."

"Your father doesn't manage your accounts or investments or anything like that?"

"I take care of all that myself," said Draco, not that there was a lot to do. Thankfully, she didn't ask the same question about Harry. Draco didn't want to lie to her, but he certainly couldn't tell her that Harry had handed control of all his money over to Severus. She'd definitely misunderstand what that was all about.

Not that Draco completely understood it, for that matter. He still thought it had been a really strange thing to do. But then, Harry hadn't been raised with money. Maybe he felt uncomfortable having loads and loads of it. That would certainly explain why he'd been so eager to get rid of his inheritance from Sirius Black.

"I didn't mean to cause offence," said Rhiannon softly, her fingers reaching out to ghost across Draco's bare arm. The touch sent a sizzle of something racing along the surface of his skin. "I suppose I'm just distrustful around anything to do with money, after all those years at Chatham."

"It's all right." Draco supposed that Severus ending up with two wealthy sons did look a bit odd, if you didn't know the larger context. "Er . . . don't take this the wrong way, but it seems like you have some issues when it comes to wealth."

"Yeah. I guess I do." Rhiannon sighed. "Maybe spending time with you will help. I know it's wrong to think that all rich people are alike. You aren't, after all."

It was wrong to think that all rich people were the same, yes. But Draco could hardly blame her for thinking that, could he? He'd gone years assuming that all poor people were worthy of his disdain. But Rhiannon wasn't.

Or Ronald Weasley, he reluctantly conceded. Though he had more reasons to resent Weasley than just his lack of funds. Marsha had made him realise that deep down, he was worried that Harry liked Weasley more than he liked his own brother.

Worried, hell. He knew full well that Harry like Weasley more.

"Sorry," said Rhiannon.

"No, it's all right, really." Draco gave her a little smile as he tried to pull himself back to their own conversation. "Though, maybe I should mention one thing. When it comes to Severus, you're letting the fact that he's a science teacher affect your judgment too, I think."

"Yeah, probably so. I'll work on it."

That sounded hopeful, like she wanted to get on with his family. A good sign. Maybe she'd sensed that the feeling growing between them was stronger than some passing summer romance. Maybe she was thinking that he was the one for her.

Rhiannon lay back, one of her hands tracing patterns in the grass. Her fingernails were neatly filed and polished a pale pink. Somehow, they struck Draco as very feminine.

An urge washed over him, a familiar one. Ever since he'd first seen her, he'd wanted to take her into his arms and touch their lips together. She looked peaceful now. Serene. Happy just to relax with him and enjoy his company.

And because she looked so content, the whole world seemed to glitter, almost as though there really was magic in the air. The breeze grew more languid, wafting the scent of dandelions around them. The sky was bluer, the clouds above a perfect white.

And Rhiannon was more beautiful than he'd thought, impossible as that seemed.

Unable to resist, Draco stretched out beside her, propping himself up on one elbow, and touched his fingers to her lips, tracing them. "You're truly lovely," he whispered, feeling almost worshipful. He'd never felt anything remotely like this with Pansy, or anyone else. Rhiannon was his match; he just knew it, the same way he knew that the sun would set and rise again. It was destiny.

A faint blush rose to stain her cheeks, but she didn't try to evade his gaze.

Her eyes were the deepest blue imaginable.

Leaning over, Draco softly touched his mouth to hers, the kiss slow and careful. But then she parted her lips, inviting more, her arms coming around him to hold him to her.

Sweet Merlin, she tasted like happiness itself. Like sunshine. Daft as that sounded, it was true. Draco had never been near anyone like her, or anyone who affected him this much.

Definitely, she was the one for him.

His head began to spin, the world around him feeling like it was losing substance. The feeling was intense, even stronger than the sensations he'd got last summer when he'd snuck out onto the grounds of the manor to try the Muggle drugs he'd bought when Lucius' back was turned. Those had just made him dizzy, really.

But the kiss made the whole world brighter.

Draco felt like his blood had turned into warmed honey, moving hot and sweet through his veins. And of course it wasn't only his blood reacting to being so near Rhiannon. His heart was swelling too, along with . . . other things.

He tried not to think about that, even as he shifted his hips slightly further away from her. It was too early for that, and he knew it. He wasn't going to lose the most perfect witch the world had ever seen, just because he couldn't control himself. He wasn't going to risk insulting her.

Though since she's been raised to think of herself as a Muggle, an insidious voice inside him began saying, she probably wouldn't be insulted. Muggle girls throw sex around all the time, after all.

No. Draco groaned a little bit as the word ricocheted through his mind. No, no, no. Denying himself was actually painful--he wanted nothing better than to pull her close against him, head to toe, and feel her warm, soft body pressed up against the part of him that was hard and aching, but he wasn't going to do it. He wasn't going to treat her as if she were the Muggle she thought herself.

Draco was going to show her the respect she was due, even if it killed him.

Which it might.

But this was only their second date, so he'd have to wait.

Rhiannon's fingers were tufting through the hair at his nape, her touch gentle, yet somehow urgent. Draco felt his heart beat harder, and moved his own hands to her hips as he kissed her, lying half-atop her by then. Ah, Merlin. He thought he could keep this up forever. There was nothing else that mattered, and nobody besides them in the whole world. Just him, and Rhiannon.

No matter that there had been people milling about in the park before. Draco had forgotten them utterly. Everything had vanished from existence the moment he'd tasted her.

And she felt the same. He could tell. It was all there in her kiss, in the way her breathing had quickened, in the--

Draco felt a pressure on one shoulder and realised that Rhiannon was pushing him away. Not as though to reject him, though. It was just a nudge to get his attention.

He drew back from her, mere inches, and smiled. "Hmm?"

"You're a really good kisser." Stretching her neck up, she quickly moved her mouth against his, just as if she couldn't get enough. "But I have to get back, Draco."

It was on the tip of Draco's tongue to tell her that her job could go hang. He'd be only too happy to get her that flat, and--

Too soon, too soon, he chided himself. Besides, given the remarks she'd made, he thought she'd probably react badly to any overt display of wealth. She'd think he was showing off, when all he meant was to show her that what was his was hers.

But yeah, too soon.

Draco got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. "All right. Do you work during the week-end?"

If she did, he was planning on going swimming all week-end long, even if the uncle was about and kept them from getting to know one another better. Just being near her would be worth it.

"No, thank God. I've got rehearsal tomorrow morning, though. After that I'm free until Monday."

A hint if ever he'd heard one. Remembering what Harry had said about the things a Muggle might do on a date, Draco diffidently suggested, "Shall we catch a movie, then? And perhaps dinner?"

And dancing, he thought. He wanted to hold her in his arms, wanted to pull her close up against his body as they swayed together.

But he didn't suggest dancing. He didn't want to seem too eager. He could mention it after they'd eaten.

"Sounds brilliant," said Rhiannon as she bent over to gather up the rubbish left over from their meal.

Draco found himself torn. On the one hand, he didn't like to see her playing the house-elf. She shouldn't have to ever do any menial labour. On the other hand, though, the sight of her shorts stretched tight across her bum . . . he couldn't quite bring himself to regret the fact that she was clearing things away.

She popped the rubbish in a bin, then wiped her hands together, her nose wrinkling. "Huh. Should have saved a napkin."

It took every bit of Draco's willpower to stop himself from drawing his wand. One quick cleaning charm was all he needed.

Fucking Ministry, he thought. Well, he might not be able to cast a spell in front of her right now, but he was going to find a way to.

Soon.

------------------------------------------------------

They got back to the pool at one minute past one. Rhiannon's uncle glared at her, but at least he didn't yell. Rhiannon gave Draco a little wave as she dashed away.

Draco stared after her, wondering if all she had to do was strip off her shorts and top, or if she was going to undress completely, then pull that stretchy red swimsuit up to cover all her bits.

His mouth went dry just thinking about it.

"Can I help you?" asked the uncle, sounding a little bit like he was spoiling for a fight.

A fight Draco wasn't going to give him. No, he was going to be good as Galleons around her family, no matter how much it rankled.

"Free swim opens at one, doesn't it?" he said, stepping toward the pool area.

"I need to see your swim pass."

Honestly. He thought Draco was trying to sneak in? He thought Draco was trying to cheat the pool of the measley two pounds the sign said they charged per day? He didn't think Draco could afford it?

The absolute gall. At least Rhiannon had had the sense to recognise Draco as someone with plenty of funds at his disposal. Even if she did sort of resent them.

Draco fished in his trouser pocket, intending to brandish his pass with flourish. One problem, though. He didn't seem to have it. Well, he'd just pay his way in, then. He did have plenty of Muggle money with him.

"Draco, what are you doing?"

Turning, he saw that his father and Harry had come in behind him.

"Forgot my pass."

"On top," said Harry, passing over a plain canvas bag.

Draco pulled back the hand holding the ten pound note, then grabbed the sodding swim pass to wield it. The uncle gave a curt nod, and didn't ask to see Harry's pass, which struck Draco as outrageous. But then again, Harry wasn't dating his niece.

However, he did stop Severus from going in.

"Planning to swim this afternoon, are you?"

That was when Draco noticed that Severus was carrying a plain canvas bag as well. It was a bit ludicrous, really, all three of them with matching bags. Ugly ones, at that. Severus had bought them when they'd gone shopping, but Draco hadn't known they were intended for use at the pool. They looked awfully vulgar, in his opinion.

"Yes," said Severus.

"Two quid, then. Far as I remember, you didn't purchase yourself a pass."

"Here, let me," said Draco when Severus began to reach into a deep pocket. "I already have it out."

Draco was a tiny bit surprised when Severus actually let him pay. But it felt good. Harry had been right in what he'd said about money. Inside a family, you wanted to share what you had. Not that Severus needed him to. But it felt good, all the same.

"Didn't think you were really the swimming type, Dad," said Draco as they headed into the men's changing room.

Ha. Dad. Severus couldn't say that Draco was asking for anything this time, could he?

"I do know how."

"Well, of course you do." Draco flashed a grin as he plunked his bag down on a concrete bench. "You've got that fabulous tub hidden away, right? Size of a small pool. Though you know, I have heard some students in other houses claim you'd melt if water ever touched you."

Severus blinked, clearly baffled. "Melt? Why?"

"Actually, I don't know," said Draco, sounding just as confused.

"Wizard of Oz again," said Harry. "The witch melts when she gets water thrown at her."

His tone suggested that that should explain everything, but Draco was still confused. "But why?"

For a moment, Harry stared. Then he chuckled. "Oh. The witch is evil in that one. Well, that witch, at least. Actually, if you read a lot of children's stories, you find out that most witches are cast as evil."

"You can't be serious," said Draco, his eyebrows drawing together. "Really?"

Hmm, he'd have to be careful when he talked to Rhiannon. The plan was taking better shape in his mind, all the time. First he'd impress her with some spells, somewhere off alone, just the two of them. He'd get her back into that state of mind she'd had as a child, when she'd thought--and rightly, too--that there really was such a thing as magic. Then he'd hand her his wand, and when she felt it hum for her, he'd tell her that there was a reason for that, and that she could make it work for her, just as she'd always wanted.

But he wouldn't use the word witch, not right at first. Not until she understood that it didn't mean something bad.

The only part of his plan that needed work, really, was how to avoid getting caught for doing a spot of underage magic out in the open. Too bad he couldn't invite her to Devon so he could do the magic show while he was safely behind the wards.

But he knew better than to even ask. There was no possible way Severus would agree to have knowledge of his secret cottage extended even further.

Draco sighed.

Then he forgot all about his plotting, because by then he'd reached into his bag, past the fluffy white towel folded on top, and he'd seen what Harry had brought him.

Draco snatched out his swim trunks and whirled to face Harry. "You fiend! You absolute fiend!"

Harry tilted his head to the side, obviously trying for an innocent expression. "They're quite nice. What, you don't think so?"

Draco shuddered. The trunks were crimson with a wavy line of gold coursing down each side seam. Gryffindor trunks!

Harry started laughing. "You shouldn't have dared me."

"I didn't!"

"Close enough."

It was a low trick to play on him, low. Draco couldn't even change them back, not here! He was beginning to think of the underage magic laws as the bane of his existence, he really was. But Harry could do all the magic he liked, and without risk of getting caught.

Draco wished, not for the first time, that he could do wandless magic. It got to be so annoying, Harry always having every special talent. New ones kept popping up all the time, in fact. Every year, seemed like. Draco couldn't help but wonder what was coming next, because with Harry's record, he doubted that seer dreams, dark powers, and wandless magic were going to be the pinnacle of his talents.

And look at what he was using his talents for!

"Fix them," Draco said, waving the horrid trunks through the air.

"No."

Ha. Draco knew a way around that. "I dare you to!"

Harry's smile practically split his face, he was grinning so wide. "Oh, but didn't I mention? Dad and I just had a talk about how I shouldn't let people dare me into things I don't want to do. So, I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"You know, you really are a Sl-- a snake at heart!"

"Yeah. It's great fun." And then, in innocent tones--very innocent tones--Harry went on, "But at least the casual shirt you asked for is just a simple white."

Suspicious, Draco pulled it out. His mouth fell open in dismay. "With a crest of a lion on the pocket?"

"Good thing I got so much practice at duplication," quipped Harry. "Though we didn't want it to be a perfect copy of a school symbol, considering, so I tried to make it come out a bit cartoonish."

Draco didn't know that word, but he decided it was a synonym for childish. The lion was soft and rounded, with a silly smile. It looked like a baby lion, actually. The kind you'd see in a child's book of stories. Well, except for the fact that it wasn't moving.

"I'm not wearing this crap," he announced, folding his arms over his chest, turning a beseeching look on Severus, who of course could solve all of this in an instant, if he chose. "And I frankly can't believe you let him do this to me."

"Perhaps I thought it time you expanded your fashion horizon."

So much for beseeching. "Oh, cut the horse shite and tell me what you really thought you were doing," snarled Draco.

"It seemed perfectly equitable to me that if Harry was going to fetch your things, he had some say in what he fetched," murmured Severus, sounding almost kind. Like he hadn't been trying to hurt Draco in any way. "Not to mention, the good doctor explained that this sort of thing, brotherly pranks, would help you bond."

"Bond."

"He did bring your lotion."

Draco rounded on Harry. "Did you mess about with it, too? Well?"

"That would be a bit more than a prank. I wouldn't do something like that."

True enough. Draco knew that Harry wouldn't. Snatching up his bag, Draco marched into a stall and slammed the door.

When he emerged wearing the trunks but with the shirt and towel slung over an arm, his father and brother were both waiting for him. That made sense; Draco's special lotion took a while to start working, and he wasn't about to stroll back out into the common area of the changing room with that horrid scar showing. He didn't like to look at it, himself, so he certainly wasn't going to have some stranger stroll in and gawk at it, or worse, catch it at the moment when the mugwort came to life and pulled the glamour in his skin to the surface of the scar to cover it.

As it turned out, though, nobody else had come in, yet. Maybe free swim didn't get busy until closer to half past, Draco thought.

His gaze was drawn to the large Muggle bandage that was covering a good portion of Severus' left forearm. "Are you sure that won't come off in the water?"

"Yes, I do know how to make things stick," said Severus dryly. Sitting sat down on a bench, he began applying sun lotion to his bare legs. Merlin, but the man was pale. Draco had never realised quite how pale, before, but then, he'd never seen Severus wearing nothing but trunks. They reached half-way to his knees and were about as modest as wizard swimwear got these days, but something about them struck Draco as almost unseemly, all the same. He was just used to seeing Severus so buttoned up. Or wearing nightshirt and robe both, when he was roused from bed.

"Er . . . how long since you went swimming?" he asked, casting about for something to say.

A small wrinkle marred Severus' forehead. "Twenty years, I do believe."

"You don't have to go in," said Draco, thinking that Severus must not care for it much if he'd let decades pass, like that. "I can stick close to Harry in case he has any trouble."

"Hey, I'm doing all right with my lessons--"

"Yes, you are," said Severus, dabbing more lotion onto his hands, then slathering it across his chest. "But you won't have Mr Yates at your side during a free swim period."

"Who's Mr Yates?"

"He means Roger," said Draco.

"Oh." A small smile curled Harry's lips. "He's good, yeah. And you know, he told me he works all day. He'll probably be watching out as lifeguard."

"Yes, but you should have help closer than that. I insist. And while your swimming skills are coming along quite well indeed, Harry, that doesn't mean I feel comfortable about them just yet. As for you--" Severus turned toward Draco. "The presence of the young lady is bound to distract you."

"Like I'm going to let Harry inhale water because I'm looking about for Rhiannon," said Draco, scowling. "Yeah, that'd end up impressing her loads."

"I thought you wanted to lie out in the sun where she could see you."

Draco nodded. "Thanks, then. But I would put Harry first, you know."

"Yes, I do know that."

"Um, so the only real question, is, if nobody's going to sit on the bleachers, what do we do with our . . . things?"

He meant wands. His own was rolled up inside his trousers, which would probably wrinkle since Draco hadn't been able to figure out how to fold them.

"Put everything in here," said Harry, opening up a metal locker where two canvas bags were already stowed, one on top of the other. There was just enough room left for Draco to pile his own bag on top. He looked at Severus again, then at Harry, and frowned. None of them had anywhere to put a wand, and he didn't like the thought of them being out there, defenceless.

Severus must have read his expression. "We'll be fine."

Yeah, Severus could do a little bit of wandless magic. Draco knew that. And of course Harry was brilliant at it by now. But Draco still felt uncomfortable, even if the snake emblem on Harry's trunks would guarantee there'd he'd be able to cast.

"Besides, you've got your amulet," added Harry.

That was true. He wore it all the time. True, it was responsible for his scar, but it was also responsible for saving his life. Literally. If not for the magical emanations of the amulet, Nott and company would have transported him straight to Lucius, the moment they'd killed Pansy.

Huh. For the first time in Draco didn't know how long, he could think of Pansy without fury or despair. Though he wasn't sorry that she was dead.

So yes, Harry was right; the amulet would warn them if any danger approached. Or at least, danger to Draco.

And that wasn't good enough, was it?

"We can't do this," Draco said, feeling like he might start shaking. Exeter was safe and he knew it, but that didn't matter. It was sheer folly to go out there, all three of them without wands. No matter that Harry had his hands. His wandless magic wouldn't be enough, not if several Death Eaters descended on the Northbrook Pool.

Going out there without wands was courting disaster.

Besides, it struck him as an awfully Gryffindor thing to do.

"I'll get dressed again and sit on the bleachers," he said, swallowing. Rhiannon might think him a bit weird if he sat there all afternoon and never went swimming, but that would just have to be borne. "That way at least one of us can . . . er, be prepared. Just in case."

"Admirable," said Severus, his eyes glinting in that way that meant he was pleased. Draco felt absurdly proud of himself. "But not needed. I am, in fact, fully prepared."

His long fingers brushed down the seam of his black trunks, and Draco suddenly understood why they were so long. It wasn't just for modesty. Severus had a wand sheath sewn into the seam, something like that.

Well, that made him feel a lot better. About their safety, and also about Severus' judgment. For a moment there, he'd been pretty shocked . . . but he should have known that Severus would find a way to keep his wand at hand.

"Good then. Let's swim," he said.

He saw Harry whisper something to the locker. Parseltongue Colloportus, probably, and Draco felt good about that, too. He wouldn't want to leave his wand, or Harry's, where a Muggle could get at it.

Harry took off his glasses then, and popped them on top of the locker, then started blinking rapidly. "Huh."

Severus went to him and tilted his face up. "Problem with your eyes? We can resume the Elixir if you feel that your vision is weakening in the least."

"No . . . actually . . . things look exactly the same when I take off my glasses. No more fuzziness, not even a little . . ."

Draco blew out all his breath in a whoosh, though he hadn't realised he'd been holding it for a moment. Ever since Harry had started that blinking. For one second, Draco had been afraid that the punch he'd landed on Harry's eye all those months ago had caused some kind of recurring damage.

But no, it seemed that everything had come out all right.

Finally.

Harry didn't need his glasses at all. Though of course he couldn't leave them off at Hogwarts since he did need the snake image etched into them. But his actual vision was perfect.

Draco sucked in a huge breath. He wanted to hug Harry. Or apologise again for that stupid blow in the first place. Instead, he flashed his brother a grin. "Come on, race you to the pool," he said, and like the Slytherin he was, made sure he got a proper head start.

------------------------------------------------------

Draco was pleasantly surprised to find out that Rhiannon was perched atop one of the lifeguard chairs overlooking the main pool. He'd have insisted they come to free swim sooner if he'd known that. She'd re-braided her hair, which he counted a shame, and not just because he thought it looked best hanging free. He'd rather have watched her braiding it, her hands reaching behind her head, her chest arching forward as she swayed . . .

Too bad he'd missed it.

Sighing, Draco spread his towel out on the cement near the shallow end of the pool, and not just because that end was nearest her. He also wanted to watch Severus and Harry. Or really, just Severus. Draco couldn't really picture the man swimming, but there he was, stepping down into the water, his long trunks billowing slightly until he was in the pool to his waist.

Strange how the man managed to keep his dignity intact. Despite all the pale, sallow skin showing, when Draco looked at him, he could almost see the usual voluminous robes.

Must have something to do with the forbidding expression, Draco thought. At that moment, he could see why Rhiannon found the man so intimidating. He wasn't even trying to glare, or anything of the sort, but the few Muggles already in the pool moved away marginally as he came forward. Almost as if Severus was putting out some kind of spell that urged them away.

Harry, on the other hand, had no dignity at all. He took the steps down two at a time and then ploughed forward through the water, leaving a wake behind him. He even managed to splash Severus in the chest.

"Sorry," he said, though he obviously wasn't. "Roger told me not to be reticent, though."

"No, no need to be reticent," said Severus as he leaned against the tiled edge of the pool, his arms stretched out to either side for support. Sighing, he let his long body float out onto the water. A bit odd, to see Severus so relaxed.

But it was only a feint. Severus waited just until Harry had come close enough, then gave an abrupt kick of his legs, sending water spraying all over Harry, drenching him.

Harry sputtered and raked his fingers through his fringe to clear it away from his eyes. "I wasn't ready to get wet, yet!"

"Is that reticence I hear?" asked Severus, his voice deep, dark, and humorous.

"You're a real riot, you are," grumbled Harry, but then he flashed Severus a quick smile and moved off so that he could start practicing his crawl stroke across the shallow end of the pool. Occasionally he had to touch down because someone was in his way, but once it became obvious that he was going to swim back and forth, the other people in the pool tended to stay out of his way.

Severus craned his neck back, for just a moment, and glanced at Draco. "So, how was your luncheon with the young lady?"

Draco didn't think she could overhear them over the hubbub of activity in the pool, but he still didn't want to say anything she might take offence to. "Not what I expected."

"Oh?" Severus turned back toward the pool. "Move your towel closer and tell me about it."

Draco rearranged himself so he was lying on his front this time, propped up on his elbows right at the edge of the pool so his head was out over the water. His gaze sought out Harry, who was looking more confident than ever in the water. Which wasn't to say that he didn't flop about awkwardly, on occasion.

"There is room in here for both of us," drawled Severus. Then he lowered his voice. "And I'm certain she'll glance your way just as much if you're wet. More, perhaps."

Draco had been very carefully not looking Rhiannon's way. He didn't want to be like a crup begging for her attention. He tried to keep the eagerness out of his whispered reply, but he didn't think he quite succeeded. "Has she been looking at me, really?"

"Yes, and she appears quite irked that you haven't noticed."

That wouldn't do at all. Draco craned his head up and waited until she was turned his way, then grinned. She smiled back, sweetly enough that Draco felt giddy just seeing it. He wasn't even kissing her, now, but he had the same sense as before, that the colours were brighter and scents more intense.

Even the chlorine in the water smelled pleasant at that moment.

Severus' voice suddenly broke through the spell. " . . . and furthermore, you aren't listening to me at all, are you?"

"Huh?" Draco turned back to his father. "Did you say something?"

"Apparently, nothing of import."

Draco felt himself flushing, and quickly hung his head, brushing his fringe down. "What?"

Severus shook his head. "Never mind. You were going to tell me about your date, I do believe?"

Draco frowned. "I never understood the boys in Slytherin who would gossip about the girls they'd just been out with. And then they'd be surprised when word got around that they'd been telling tales. Very bad strategy."

It was only that, of course, if you wanted to keep dating the same girl. Which had always been the case with Draco. He'd spent years being stuck on Pansy. Ha--he'd wasted those years.

"Anyway, I just thought I ought to establish at the outset that I won't kiss and tell. I wouldn't do that to Rhiannon."

"Very commendable."

Laughter was lurking behind the words. Draco could hear it, and he knew what it meant. Severus thought Draco was getting ahead of himself, there. He didn't think that Draco had so much as kissed Rhiannon, yet.

Draco felt more than a little smug that not only had he kissed her, but that they'd snogged for a good--huh, he wasn't sure how long, really. Long, though. He was sure of that much.

As first kisses went, it had been bloody fabulous.

Still the same droll tone from Severus. "What can you tell me?"

Draco lowered his voice a fraction more. "Well, she took me out for fish and chips. And she paid. I thought that was quite strange. Especially as she knows I'm very well-off."

Severus gave a small shake of his head. "Oh, Draco. You told her about your money?"

"No. Well, yes, but only after she mentioned it," exclaimed Draco, though quietly. "She said she could tell. And she hates it. She's got money issues." He thought better than to mention the questions she had asked about Severus' motive for the adoptions. "Big ones."

"Well, no relationship is without its problems," said Snape lightly. Like he was trying not to express either approval or disapproval.

"We ate in a park. Sitting on the grass," said Draco. "And if Harry ever asks to get Diet Coke when we go shopping, be sure to check the ingredient list. It tastes like it's based on coal tar, honestly."

"Half the products in the market seem to be chemical stews."

"Well, at least the produce area is probably safe. Though I do wish they had more varieties of things. I like those frutilla strawberries you can get from Chile if you know where to shop, and--"

He stopped talking because Rhiannon's uncle had come up to her and was gesturing vaguely toward Severus as he spoke. Draco strained, but couldn't hear anything, not over the splashing and voices between them. Rhiannon gave a sharp nod, then hopped off her tall lifeguard chair, her gaze seeing out Draco's.

Obviously, her uncle had told her to come say something to him.

And just as obviously, she didn't want to do it.

But she did want to keep her job, even if she hated it, Draco knew, so after a moment's hesitation, she was walking forward, her stretchy swimsuit pulling tightly across her hips as she moved. Draco had to remind himself that staring was really very ill-mannered.

And licking his lips was definitely out.

She came around the corner of the pool, heading straight for him. Except, it seemed it wasn't Draco she needed to talk with. Crouching down on the other side of Severus, she fixed her gaze on him.

"Mr Snape, sir?"

If Draco hadn't been worried by then, wondering what the matter was, he would have thought it amusing that even without being in class with Severus, she knew to call him sir.

As Harry noticed her approach and stood up in the middle of the shallow end, water streaming off him, Severus turned his head to the side to look at Rhiannon. "Yes, Miss Miller?"

She cleared her throat and looked like she could think of a hundred things she'd rather do than what she was doing. Draco wasn't sure if that was because Severus scared her or because her uncle had told her to say something truly awful.

"I'm very sorry, sir, but there's a . . . er, there's a rule against wearing long hair loose in the pool."

Draco almost choked.

"Ah." Severus raised his shoulders slightly. "Well, one must follow the rules, I suppose."

Draco appreciated that comment, more than he could say. Severus was trying to help her feel more comfortable, even though she'd just rebuked him. He didn't want Draco's girl to be anxious around him, any more than Draco wanted her to feel that way.

"Yes," said Rhiannon, still obviously ill-at-ease. Well, no wonder. She thought of herself as a Muggle, and Harry had already explained that where he'd grown up, long hair on men was a little bit unusual. He'd never once seen a Muggle man with hair as long as Dumbledore's, he'd said. So no wonder she hated doing this. It was rude, informing any man that his hair was too long. Let alone a man twice her age. She obviously knew that.

Not to mention, she'd felt intimidated by Severus even before this. Her voice was wavering as she went on. "If you could just tie it back, then?"

Severus' own voice was smooth and calm, almost as though he was casting some sort of spell. Draco doubted there was any actual magic involved, but he knew that Severus could do a lot with voice alone. He had the knack. "Have you something I might use for that?"

"Oh."

By then, Severus' voice was clearly amused. "Yes, I usually prefer to let it hang loose--"

Rhiannon winced, actually winced. Draco wasn't sure why until she went on, her voice very low that time, "I've also been asked to tell you that . . . Oh, God." She leaned sideways to look Draco full in the face. Sorry, she mouthed, and then she returned her attention to Severus and spoke quickly. "I've been asked to request that you shower before getting into the pool. It's actually one of the posted rules, but he hardly ever singles anybody out to actually do it. Please do forgive me--"

And with that, she was rising to her full height. "I'll see if I can find something for you to use for after your . . . er, shower."

She walked around the pool to say something to Roger, then quickly headed toward the pool office.

"I think we can safely assume that shower is a euphemism for something else," Severus remarked, very dryly.

Shampoo, Draco thought. That's what she had meant. Merlin, how completely humiliating, that his girlfriend should have to come over and critique his father's bathing habits.

He couldn't even imagine how Severus felt.

Except, he should have known that Severus didn't often care what people thought of him. Case in point: right then, he seemed to be thinking only of his son.

"If I've set you back with the young lady, Draco--"

Draco waved a hand. "It's all right."

Severus frowned as though he didn't think so, but didn't reply.

Meanwhile, Draco had sat up straight to watch Rhiannon, who had reached the pool office by then. Through the window, he could see her fishing in a drawer. And then she appeared to be having another argument with her uncle. A more heated one, this time, but perhaps that was because they weren't out in the middle of the pool complex.

Rhiannon threw her hands upward, and whirled on a heel, her features tight with anger as she made her way back to where Draco was. By then, Harry had joined his father on the wall, but instead of relaxing against it, he was grasping it with both hands as he floated on his belly and practiced kicking.

Severus was getting splashed all over, but he didn't seem to mind.

Harry stopped kicking when Rhiannon crouched down again to speak to Severus. "I couldn't find anything. But here, you can use mine." With that, she was quickly tugging off the elastic band at the end of her loose braid. Her hair spilled free, the sight glorious. "Uncle Stanley will just have to live with it if I have to jump into the pool to help someone."

Severus pushed off the wall and stood up in the shallow water, his fingers brushing hers as he took the bright red band. "I'll go see to matters, then."

Rhiannon started chewing on her lower lip, her voice barely audible. "Er . . . I am so, so sorry. He never makes me pester customers like this, but now he's saying that you'll have to keep that out of the water." She made a gesture toward the bandage on Severus' arm. "In case it's infected."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Were it a wound, I feel certain that the heavy concentration of chlorine in the water would see to such concerns."

"You're definitely a science teacher." Rhiannon fiddled with the ends of her hair. "But it's not an open wound, you mean?"

Draco wanted to cringe. Severus had already answered that, and he had a habit of verbally ripping students apart when they asked him to repeat himself. Rhiannon wasn't a student, though. The moment Severus replied, Draco knew he should have had more faith in him.

"Tattoo, I'm afraid. One I'd rather my sons not see," he blithely lied. "A youthful indiscretion. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh . . ." All at once, Rhiannon sounded intrigued. Then she appeared to realise that was inappropriate, and shook it off. "All right, then."

Severus stood up and began making his way back to the pool steps, again moving with that precision that even water didn't seem to disrupt. Rhiannon looked as though she'd like to stay and chat with Draco, but when she glanced back at the pool office, her uncle was standing at the window with his arms crossed. He was too far away for Draco to really see if his eyes were beady, but Draco decided they were.

"Free swim's more trouble than it's worth," muttered Harry as Rhiannon moved off.

"It's not her fault."

Harry started following Severus. Sighing, Draco got up to follow. It was going to look a bit weird, all three of them returning to the changing room at once, but there was no help for it. Severus was the one with the wand.

"You're not leaving?" asked Rhiannon, turning around and coming back, her forehead wrinkled. "Don't, please. I tried to be as tactful as I could."

"Er . . ." Draco tried Occluding his mind, so he could come up with a decent lie about why they were all going back to the men's changing room, but it didn't seem to be working. Whether that was because he didn't want to lie to her, or because it was harder to Occlude without his wand on him, he didn't know.

Thankfully, Harry helped him out. "We're not leaving. None of us showered, that's all."

Rhiannon's forehead smoothed out. "Oh. Well, like I said, it doesn't really matter. My uncle's in high dudgeon today, not sure why--"

Draco shook his head, and managed to follow Harry's lead. He thought he did tolerably well at it. "Severus can be a stickler for rules."

"Figures. Chemistry teacher and all."

"Yeah, when students don't follow his instructions in class, things can explode," said Harry with a straight face. "Any road, we'll be back in a bit. Maybe Draco'll be willing to show you one of his fancy dives. He's ace."

Draco waited until they were in the changing room to punch Harry on the arm. And not lightly, either. "Keep out of it. I don't need any help making Rhiannon like me. I'm doing just fine."

"Thought it would make up for the trunks." Harry wrinkled his nose. "Crimson's not your colour."

"Really," drawled Draco. He waited until Harry had whispered something at the locker, then grabbed his swim bag and kept it as his feet as he sat down to wait for Severus. Harry did the same. Not that they were expecting trouble, but it was just better to be prepared. Or maybe it was something else. Draco needed to know that he had access to magic if needed. Otherwise, he felt almost . . . naked.

Harry didn't talk until a couple of other teenagers cleared out of the changing room, and then, he spoke in a low voice. "Wonder what Dad's using? He didn't bring along any shampoo."

Draco shrugged. He was pretty sure Severus would just conjure some from his stores either at Hogwarts or Devon. Though he'd have to have some stores in the first place, to make that work. "Maybe he's just using soap," he whispered. "Gives a dreadful result, but it does the trick."

"Maybe he's using the same kind of thing he once did to you," said Harry. "He's alone in there; nobody would see."

Comalavare, Draco thought, easily following the reference.

"I can hear every word you say," called Severus from a nearby stall. Now that Rhiannon wasn't around, he sounded more than a little annoyed.

Draco wisely shut up, and noticed that Harry did the same.

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They didn't leave the pool until free swim closed at five. Draco had spent the rest of the afternoon alternately swimming, laying out, and executing dives filled with compact twists and turns. He knew his form was good. He could tell that Rhiannon was impressed, though at one point her lips twisted, and Draco wondered if she was realising that he must have had private lessons.

Expensive private lessons.

Draco stopped diving then, and grabbed a sinking stick from a bin near the diving board. He'd noticed them being used earlier. Long plastic rods in jewel-bright colours, they sank very slowly into the water. The trick was to follow one down and try to get it before it hit bottom.

He took it over to where Harry and Severus were treading water and talking. "Game?"

Harry looked a little unsure about the idea, but then he glanced at Roger and smiled a little. "All right. I'm supposed to practice going under the water, though I can't say I much like the idea."

"Severus?"

"I'll throw."

Draco thought that was just a way for him to not have to plunge underwater, but he nodded. He was lucky enough that Severus hadn't insisted on leaving the pool entirely after what had happened earlier. The man's hair had dried by then, and it looked positively hideous. Frizzy, and curling in odd ways.

Maybe Severus let it get so oily to begin with because at least that way, it hung more sleekly. But really, all it needed was a spot of deep-conditioning. That would set it to rights.

Harry and Draco dove after the stick, time and again when Severus tossed it. Draco probably could have got to it first every time, but he thought that might not do much for Harry's confidence, so he didn't try his hardest.

After a while, when they came up for air, Draco shook his head, thinking he'd had enough. Harry swam over to him and poked him in the shoulder. Hmm, probably payback for that punch from before.

Or perhaps not. "Don't you dare do that when school starts."

"Do what?" asked Draco, trying for an innocent tone.

"Throw matches. Not try your very best."

"I told you I'm going to wipe the pitch with you--" Draco sucked in a breath as he understood what Harry hadn't said. "Aha. You've made up your mind. You're going to play again."

"Yeah. Feel a bit bad for Ginny, but this is my last year, and she has one more. Besides, she'll still be on the team, I think--"

"She'll get over it," said Draco, dismissing the entire matter from mind.

It looked like Harry had more trouble letting it go, which made Draco wonder how much of Harry's dithering had been Ginny Weasley-based to begin with. Harry never liked to disappoint anybody. Probably related to his saving-people thing.

When it was time to go, Draco made a point of going up to Rhiannon to say good-bye to her. "I'll meet you tomorrow, then? Outside the theatre?" he asked. He wanted to attend another rehearsal, but didn't want to be pushy about it. "What time?"

"We're usually done by two on Saturdays. Though if Adrian's in one of his moods there's no telling." Rhiannon grabbed a towel from the back of her chair and wrapped it around her hips. "Hang on a second while I find a piece of paper, and I'll write down the number to your mobile."

Draco was glad that Harry had explained those. "I don't have one."

"Oh." She looked rather startled at that. "Well, your home phone, then."

Again, Draco was ready. He'd thought about this in advance, since if they got closer, she was bound to want his phone number. And address, and such. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do about the fact that he couldn't invite her to Devon. But for now, he knew what to say.

He leaned closer, wanting to take her hand. With the uncle lurking about, though, it probably wasn't a good idea. "Severus is a little bit eccentric. We don't have any sort of phone in the summer. He cherishes his holiday and says that if people from the school want to talk to him, they can go to the trouble of coming to see him personally."

Rhiannon looked flummoxed at that. No surprise; Harry had explained that most Muggles couldn't imagine being without a phone.

"It's no problem," he said, leaning forward to drop a kiss on her cheek. By then, he couldn't resist, uncle or no. "I'll just come at two and wait for you."

"Bring a book," said Rhiannon dryly. "Just in case."

Draco didn't have any books that he could let her see. Or at least, not yet. But soon. He just had to introduce her to magic by doing a little show for her. She'd think the tricks were nothing but Muggle nonsense, but once he put his wand in her hand, she'd know better.

And the best part was that while Draco had been splashing about in the pool, he'd figured out a way around the underage magic laws. A foolproof way.

He wrote the letter that night, sneaking out to the table after Harry and Severus were sound asleep. Just a few carefully worded sentences; that was all he needed. He slipped the small square of parchment into an envelope and addressed it. He'd rather have spoken to a school owl directly, but considering how they sent their post from Devon, he didn't have that option.

Draco popped the lid off the charmed box and almost dropped the letter in.

But at the last second, he decided he'd be wiser to include an additional incentive, considering with whom he was dealing. Fetching the letter out again, Draco added a post-script and included five shiny Galleons in the envelope, then charmed it so they wouldn't rattle en route.

Holding his breath, Draco pushed the letter into their post box and quickly closed it. When he opened the box again to check, the letter was gone. Come morning, or possibly even sooner, it would be on its way, held securely in the beak of an anonymous school owl.

Not that the letter itself was anonymous. It couldn't be, not if Draco was going to be able to straighten Rhiannon out.

Draco tip-toed back to bed and tried to sleep, but it was no use. He lay awake thinking. Planning. Dreaming, even. Two days, maybe three, and he'd be able to show Rhiannon some magic.

Including her own.

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Coming soon in A Summer Like None Other:

Chapter Thirteen: Diamonds Aren't a Girl's Best Friend

Comments very welcome,

Aspen in the Sunlight and Mercredi

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