A Summer Like None Other

aspeninthesunlight

Story Summary:
Family isn't everything, as Harry, Snape, and Draco learn in this sequel to A Year Like None Other. How will a mysterious mirror and a surprising new relationship affect Harry and his new family?
Read Story On:

Chapter 14 - Magic in the Air

Posted:
05/29/2007
Hits:
2,158

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: Thanks must go to Rhonda and clauclauclaudia for their beta work. So thanks! Very much!

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

A Summer Like None Other

by Aspen in the Sunlight

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

Chapter Fourteen:

Magic in the Air

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

"Bad dream last night," said Harry the next morning, as soon as he'd poured himself some juice.

Draco stopped spreading lemon curd across his crumpet, and opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but Severus beat him to it.

"Seer dream?"

"No. No chance of that. Didn't have that pattern or the whirling, or anything. It's just . . . I'm sick of ending up in hospital all the time! I was hoping next year I could give that a miss, you know?"

Draco blinked. "You just said it wasn't a seer dream. So what's this about next year?"

Harry shot him a wry smile. "By seer dream I mean those ones that show me large sections of past and future both. But I've had lots of dreams besides those, that give me a glimpse of what's coming. I dreamed the Slytherins were going to get sick, for instance."

"You might have mentioned that to me," murmured Severus, reaching for the teapot.

"Sorry," said Harry, crumbs flying everywhere as he bit into a slice of crisp toast. Plain, dry toast. Draco almost shuddered. "I didn't know it was really going to happen. The dream was . . . well, it seemed like a regular dream, with things not making much sense, sir. Um, Dad. It was only afterwards that I got it."

Well, at least Draco wasn't the only one still struggling with the issue of names. He knew he should have more sympathy about that, considering, but he didn't. He was glad he wasn't alone.

"So what's going to put you in hospital this time, then?" asked Severus. "I imagine it would be good to make the requisite potions in advance, if possible?"

"No idea. Nobody was saying anything," said Harry, shrugging. "You and Draco were sitting in chairs next to me, and we were all just looking at each other. I can't remember anything besides that."

Sure he could, Draco thought. He just needed prompting. "No casts? Plasters? Bottles of potion on the nightstand?"

Harry wrinkled his forehead like he was thinking hard. "Uh, not sure. My head might have been bandaged. Or, wait, maybe my neck was in a brace, or--"

"Stop," said Severus in a stern voice. And then, to Draco, "You're putting ideas in his mind with questions like that. It's best to let him remember on his own, or not."

"Or pensieve the dream," said Harry. "Like we did that once?"

"Yanking dreams in and out of your mind is a measure best reserved for only the most desperate of circumstances. Which this most decidedly is not. You've merely had a dream. About something that happens to you almost every year, as you yourself admitted."

"But--"

"Didn't I tell you that I only ply magic when it's the best solution? The mind is nothing to tamper with, Harry."

"Especially not your mind," added Draco, nodding.

"Oh, thanks," said his brother, scowling. "Just because you probably got more OWLs than me doesn't mean you're more intelligent, you know. It just means you had more tutors and such."

"Talk to Marsha about your over-sensitivity issues," retorted Draco. "Because I've never mentioned having more OWLs than you. In fact, I don't even know how many you earned. All I meant was that you won't be great shakes as a slayer of the Dark Lord if you end up brain-damaged from irresponsible pensieve use."

Harry's mouth fell open. "Nobody ever told me that using a pensieve could be harmful!"

"It isn't, usually," said Draco, more patiently that time. "But when it comes to dreams, that's something else. And even then it won't hurt you unless you start doing a lot of it."

"Which is why we aren't going to ask Albus for his pensieve every time your dreams prove mildly disturbing," added Severus. "Excellent explanation, Draco. Now, have you any plans today? You were a bit muddled on that point when I picked you up last night. Too many strawberry daiquiris, perhaps?"

Now it was Draco's mouth falling open. "I didn't drink even one."

"I wasn't intending to perturb you so much that you'd lie to me about it," said Severus in a stern voice.

"Rhiannon bought daiquiris and spilled them on the table," added Draco. "I think I got some of it on my sleeve. But I didn't drink any. No chance to."

"Ah. That would account for the smell." Snape lifted his shoulders. "Very well, then. Have you any plans?"

"I wanted to spend the day with Rhiannon."

"Imagine my surprise."

Draco could have done without that droll tone. "The significant word there was wanted," he admitted, wishing his eggs were poached instead of scrambled. Harry had cooked this morning, obviously. He always scrambled the eggs. Well, except for the two times Draco had insisted on poached and had ended up being served eggs that had cracked open into hot water and boiled until they were hard and rubbery. Harry had eaten them and declared them not half bad. Even the memory almost made Draco shudder. "Past tense. She told me Friday that her weekend was wide open, but late last night she said he'd changed his mind and had given her loads of chores to do today. As if she should be doing any menial work. Her uncle's a complete git."

"Let's go to the seaside," said Harry, grinning, the prat. He looked delighted to hear that Draco wouldn't be spending the day with Rhiannon. "Just the three of us. Doesn't that sound grand?"

"Sounds sandy," said Draco, making a face. Harry didn't seem to notice.

"It'll be great! I'd love to practice my strokes somewhere besides that pool."

"Yes, well, we all have our little trials to bear, don't we--"

Harry won the argument, though, with just three words. Well, three words and a glare.

"You owe me."

Draco had a retort ready for that, too, but when he thought about what an absolute cow that Cecile had been, and how Harry had put up with her for Draco's sake, he didn't have the heart to say it.

"Oh, very well. I'll suffer the summer sun on my delicate skin--"

"You seem to be just fine suffering it when Rhiannon's around to admire you."

Draco leaned back, feeling rather pleased by that description of events. "She does admire me, doesn't she?"

"When you're not giving diamond pendants to winos, sure."

Trust Harry to bring that up. Did Draco dwell on all Harry's mistakes? He huffed a little, waiting for Severus to rebuke him, but their father only looked at him a bit sternly before appearing to shrug the matter off.

Draco found that he couldn't do the same. He wanted Severus to think well of him, not regard him as a blithering twit. He wanted Severus to admire him the way the man admired Harry. And wasn't that saying a lot? All at once, Draco almost missed the good old days, when he could stay after Potions class to complain about Harry. Back then, he could always count on Severus for scathing commentary on all subjects Potter.

Not now, though.

Of course, Draco didn't really miss those days. He just got awfully tired of Severus liking Harry more.

Draco raised his chin and addressed his brother. "You know perfectly well that it doesn't matter about the pendant. I could buy a hundred of those and throw them off a cliff, and barely even notice the difference in my vault balance."

"Just because you can waste money doesn't mean you should."

"Ah, but it wasn't a waste, was it? Rhiannon and I had our first real fight and came through it, and we're the stronger for it." Draco wanted to add that the making up had been more than worth the cost of the pendant, too, but he really couldn't, not after he'd told Severus that he wouldn't kiss and tell. There was something that he had to tell, though. "I mentioned the orphanage to Rhiannon and she wants to see it," he said, turning in his chair to look more fully at Severus. "I think I can arrange a visit if I donate a sizeable sum. You'll allow me to take her there, won't you? As long as it's all right with Darswaithe?"

"You didn't explain about magic and squibs, did you?" asked Severus, his frown threatening to turn into a glower.

"No, no. As far as she's concerned, it's just an orphanage taking care of needy children. The Muggle kind. I'm sure I can get Darswaithe to give us a tour and leave out any mention of magic. But of course as soon as she's come to realise that she's actually a witch, I'll explain everything in more detail."

Draco was actually hoping that he'd be able to explain all those details before any visit to the squib home took place, but of course that depended on receipt of the item he had ordered. He wondered when it was going to come.

Severus thought for a moment more. "I see no real difficulty as long as you can persuade Horace Darswaithe to cooperate."

"Oh, he'll love it," said Harry, who had been thinking the whole thing over earlier that morning. "And not just because of the money Draco's going to hand over. It's also that they told us at the home that they're always looking for ways to give the children more exposure to the Muggle world, and what better way than having a Muggle come visit--"

This again? "Will you get it through your thick Gryffindor skull, once and for all, that she's not a Muggle? Honestly, Harry! The mere fact that she likes me ought to be enough to settle the question for you!"

"She doesn't know that you hate Muggles!"

"There is such a thing as instinct," drawled Draco. "And even Muggles have it. She's drawn to me, and she wouldn't be, if she were a Muggle."

"Oh, fine. Whatever," said Harry, clearly not meaning it in the least. "Like I said before, maybe she is actually a witch. The truth is, we don't really know--"

"You don't know. I know everything I need to."

Harry huffed, looking put out. "But my point was that if you talk to Darswaithe in advance and tell him you're bringing a Muggle around to see the place, he'll think she is one. And he'll probably think it's good for the children. Maybe she can give them a little talk about careers in music, or some such. Give them tickets to her show, maybe. That'd be good."

The last two ideas actually were good ones, though of course there'd be no need for Draco to tell Darswaithe that Rhiannon was a Muggle. By the time they visited the home, that particular nasty rumour would have been put to rest. He'd tell Darswaithe that Rhiannon was very comfortable in the Muggle world, that was all. And he'd mention the bit about the children perhaps going to one of her performances. Hmm . . . perhaps he'd offer to fund the outing. That would likely go over well.

"The seaside?" asked Harry.

"Have you a specific beach in mind?"

Harry glanced at their father and shrugged. "I figured we could just wander around at the shore, a bit. Maybe take a taxi to get there if it's a long way to walk. I mean, we know some good parts of Exeter to Apparate into, but the seaside might be a different . . ." He grinned. "Kettle of fish."

Draco would have groaned, but he had a better idea. "Let's find a place that sells fish and chips!"

Harry gave him a look which even a blind man would have recognized as doubtful. "You want fish and chips. You."

"I happen to like it."

"Since when?"

Draco shrugged. "As long as it comes with a proper beverage." He made a face. "Anything but Diet Coke. It's positive sludge."

"Try the regular kind."

"I don't think so."

Severus stood up. "You two go and get ready for a day at the seaside, then."

Harry grinned. "You too. Get your strongest sunblock potion, Dad."

As Severus went into his room and closed the door, Draco grimaced. "Fine and well for him. Mine only lasts so long before the glamour tears loose. With my luck, we'll be in the middle of a large crowd of Muggles when the potion fails, and everybody'll see this great ugly scar on my chest!"

"Just re-apply your lotion every so often, like you do at the pool," said Harry in an overly-patient voice. Easy for him to act like Draco was over-reacting. He didn't have a great ugly scar to worry about!

At least, Draco didn't think that the scar on Harry's forehead was anything to fuss over.

"Come on," said Harry now, pushing back his chair. "I know what'll make you want to spend a day at the beach. There'll be plenty of girls there, right? And like you said before, Merlin, they won't be wearing very much, will they?"

Draco lifted his chin. "That was before I'd met Rhiannon. I only have eyes for her, now, I'll have you know."

Harry let out a low whistle. "No harm in looking, is there?"

"I suppose you'd have to be in love to understand."

"Prat."

"Jealous?"

"Ha."

Draco wasn't quite sure what that reply meant. Hmm, maybe just that Rhiannon wasn't Harry's type. Well, that was good to know, wasn't it?

Not that Draco was worried, in any case. Rhiannon had as good as said that she loved him. Well, she'd mentioned having a love-life, at any rate. And she'd been thinking of Draco when she'd said it. Draco didn't need to be a Legilimens to be certain of that.

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

The seaside had been all right, Draco supposed as they arrived back at the cottage that evening. Harry had certainly seemed to enjoy it. He'd actually demanded to be buried in sand, all the way up to his neck, and then had tried to persuade Draco to try it. It's great fun, he had said, laughing, probably at the look on Draco's face.

Draco shuddered just remembering the suggestion. Why would he want to be surrounded by so much grit? Even now, hours later, he could tell that Harry still had bits of sand in his hair!

Well, that was what one got for frolicking surrounded by Muggles. One proper cleaning spell would have taken care of the problem, but they'd had to go without the basics of civilization, just because wizards didn't have any private beaches. Or at least, not any that Draco knew of.

Something he ought to see to, he mused as he entered the cottage. Once he was through with school, perhaps he could buy some shoreline . . . on the other hand, he wasn't that fond of the beach, anyway. So perhaps he oughtn't bother.

"Wonder who sent you a package?"

Draco blinked. It was here already? He only hoped that his instructions had been followed precisely. Quickly Occluding, he tried for a thoroughly bland tone. "Oh, I owl-ordered some new shampoo a few days ago. Special formulation. That chlorine in the pool water is just nasty, you know." Draco casually popped open the box Harry had handed him, and plucked out the stoppered crystal bottle.

"Doesn't look like they sent you very much."

"If it's made right, I won't need much." Draco turned toward their father, and said the one thing guaranteed to make sure that Severus would stay far away from this particular vial. "Your hair's looking a little brittle, lately. Would you care to borrow some of this?"

Severus gave him a rather sardonic look. "Some of us don't need designer hair-care products to make life complete."

"That's not it. I merely want to look my best for Rhiannon. You'd feel the same if you fell in love. Right?"

Harry made kind of a choking noise, which turned out to be a good thing since it got Severus' attention off of Draco. His gaze toward the end there had seemed to be more piercing than sardonic. Almost like he knew Draco was up to something.

Almost.

"Are you quite all right?"

Harry laughed, but he sounded more uncomfortable than amused. "Sure, Dad."

Huh. That was interesting. Draco had joked around with Harry before, about Severus being more interested in Marsha than he let on, but it seemed like on some level, Harry didn't like the idea of Severus with someone.

Well, he hadn't liked the idea of Draco with someone, either, had he?

Draco figured that he just wasn't ready to share his family with anyone. And no wonder--this was the only family Harry had had in years and years. Those horrible Muggles didn't count. On some level, Draco supposed it was no wonder that Harry felt a little upset about Rhiannon, but in time, he'd understand that Draco was still just as much his brother as before.

Nothing was going to change that. Not even Rhiannon.

In fact, once Rhiannon finally understood that she had magic of her own, Draco could tell her everything, and it would be easier for her to understand how important his family was. But to show her that she was a witch . . . first he had to arrange things so he could do some magic in front of her. She'd think it was a series of Muggle tricks, of course. But she'd be relaxed and happy, reliving her own childhood love of magic. She'd be in a state of déjà vu, and once Draco handed her his wand and she felt it singing to her own magic . . . then he'd be able to tell her everything.

Absolutely everything.

"I think I'll just go see how well this shampoo does," he said, hiding his smile as he headed toward the bedroom.

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

Once he was alone in the bathroom, the door securely closed behind him, he sat down on the loo and tilted the bottle back and forth, watching as the amber liquid inside slowly flowed from one side to another. So far, so good. The stuff looked like shampoo, just as he'd specified in his order letter. When he pulled the stopper out of the bottle and gave the contents a good sniff, it smelled soapy, too. To the casual observer, the potion would appear to be fancy shampoo, just as he'd intended.

But of course, the scent was coming from a spell, not from the potion itself. Draco didn't know if the colour and the viscosity were equally artificial, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that his directions had been followed. To the letter.

So far it seemed like he'd got exactly what he'd ordered, but Draco didn't count that for much. You couldn't be too careful when dealing with the likes of the Weasley twins. Their products had a habit of containing surprises, and not always benign ones.

On the other hand, they were businessmen these days, and the vault draft Draco had sent with his letter had been very generous, indeed. Not to mention the Galleons he'd included as an additional incentive. I'd appreciate it if the requested potion included only the qualities specified, he'd written. These few coins shall serve as a partial payment-in-advance to that end. Deal well with me, and I assure you, I shall deal well with you.

For all Draco knew, though, this was nothing but shampoo. Well, one way to find out if he'd got what he'd paid for. Fishing in the box, Draco drew out a slip of parchment and scanned it. For the most part, it looked like a bill of sale. For moisturizing shampoo, provided by a French wizarding firm doing business in Wales, but there at the bottom of the slip was an additional note.

Instructions for use: one drop to restore each day of damage.

Draco would have preferred the directions to be clearer, but given that they had to look like they were intended for shampoo, he supposed that Fred and George had done the best they could. He took them to mean take one drop for each day older you would like to be. That made sense; he'd explained in his letter that he didn't even need to be months or years older. He just needed enough potion to put him over the age of seventeen.

Normally, of course, an aging potion wouldn't be of any use at all to someone in his position. The Ministry monitoring spells couldn't be fooled by such simple means. But Draco's life in the past year had been anything but simple. The wand he was accustomed to using, these days, wasn't one he'd started using when he was young. It had belonged for years and years to someone old enough to be Severus' grandfather. And then it had belonged, unregistered, to Severus.

True, that same wand had been recently registered to Draco, but that didn't mean much. This particular wand had spent most of its existence with other owners. It didn't know Draco well at all. Draco could tell that much, every time he cast a spell.

Of course, if he were eleven trying to masquerade as seventeen, the wand would realise that something was drastically wrong. But it wouldn't notice if Draco suddenly aged three or four weeks.

It was used to older owners, after all.

He couldn't have played this trick with a wand he'd used for years, and it wouldn't have worked on a brand-new wand, either. But circumstances had aligned themselves in his favour, for once. He had in his possession just the sort of wand that this potion could work to fool. One that had been owned before. One that longed for its other owners, actually. One that would be glad to be out of the hands of an underage wizard.

Draco mentally reviewed the calendar and decided that twenty-eight drops should do it. Four complete weeks. It was more than he needed by a few days, but that was all right. He'd take a little too much, just to be safe.

He began to wave his wand to conjure a clean tumbler, but realised just in time that Severus might somehow notice the surge of magic, and wonder over it. That wouldn't do. He wasn't going to have to answer questions about what he was up to. Not that Severus would probably inquire. Draco wasn't going to take the chance.

Draco rinsed out the glass that Harry kept by the sink--so Mugglish to reuse the same one, over and over, but would Harry listen? Of course not. No matter, not now. Draco carefully dripped twenty-eight drops into the glass, counting out loud to make sure he didn't lose track, and then with a silent plea to Merlin, upended the glass and let the potion slide into his mouth and down his throat.

It didn't leave a trace behind, but Draco rinsed the glass out afterwards, anyway.

Then he looked at himself in the mirror. No difference in his appearance, really, but there shouldn't be, not if he'd only aged a month. He didn't even feel different, but he should, surely? Well, there was a low tingle of magic in his belly; the potion was evidently doing something. But what?

He had a sudden, horrifying premonition that he might be about to sprout antlers or some such nonsense. And if he did, those twins would rue the day . . .

But no, nothing strange appeared to be happening.

Which wasn't to say that he was now permanently a month older. There was no way to tell if he was or not, save brandishing a spell outside the wards and waiting to see if doom descended in the form of a warning letter from the Ministry, or in his case, more likely, Aurors come to drag him in to face justice.

No way to tell . . .

Or was there?

His birth date was written on his adoption certificate, wasn't it? Draco hadn't paid it much mind at the time; he'd been too worried about Harry's reaction to his Draco's new surname. He was almost certain, though, that the date had been included somewhere on it.

When he went out to the bedroom, Harry wasn't in there. Moving quickly, Draco fetched his copy from the drawer where he kept it.

He held his breath as he unrolled it. Good thing. When he saw what the certificate said now, he could have whooped for joy, undignified as that would be. Draco Snape, the certificate said in large letters, but the line below, written in a smaller hand, had changed: a minor child born the 8th of July . . .

The year hadn't changed, of course, but his birthday had been moved back exactly twenty-eight days. He was more than old enough to do magic unsupervised from now on. In fact, he was now older than Harry!

Permanently.

Which was as it should be. This wasn't a case of only needing to be older for the few seconds it took to cross an age line, after all. Draco needed his wand to recognise him as older all through the magic show he intended to perform for Rhiannon. And since he'd be able to explain everything to Rhiannon directly afterwards--just as soon as she realised she was in truth a witch--he needed his wand to continue to think of him as over seventeen. He wanted to teach Rhiannon to do the magic she'd always longed for, and for that, he had to be able to demonstrate spells, right?

Spells he wouldn't have to pretend were part of some ludicrous magic "act."

Draco grinned just thinking of it. Who would have thought he'd ever be beholden to a Weasley for anything? And now he was beholden to two of them.

Right up until the moment when he'd looked at his adoption certificate, Draco hadn't been sure that the twins could do as he'd asked. It wasn't as though their own foray into aging potions had gone so well, was it? But they'd been students then, and trying to defeat an age line drawn by Albus Dumbledore himself. No great wonder they hadn't been up to the task.

What Draco had needed was child's play, in comparison. Really, probably not worth the exorbitant price he'd paid. Not in the normal scheme of things. After all, with just a little bit of time and research, Draco could quite probably brew his own aging potion. Brewing it under Severus' watchful eye was another matter, however, so in that sense, the potion-disguised-as-shampoo was worth every last Galleon he'd spent on it.

Draco carefully re-rolled his adoption certificate and put it away, then went back into the bathroom and washed his hair so that the others would hear the shower running. When he came out again, he put his special "shampoo" away where Harry wouldn't run across it, and applied a few drying and styling spells to his hair. Hmm . . . it looked the same as always, and that wouldn't do. There, that was better. Just a little more shine than usual, and he felt ready to go out into the other room and face his family.

Wouldn't you know it . . . the first thing Harry said when Draco emerged was that his hair looked "the same as always."

"I'll have you know, it's a good bit sleeker and smoother just now." Draco chuckled, his mood so elated that he doubted his brother could say anything to spoil it. "Perhaps we should consult some experts as to your own rather distressed hair. Or do you like it sticking up in back like that?"

Harry laughed too. "I guess I must. Aunt Petunia used to cut it short to tame it, and it always grew back overnight. She didn't try cutting it too often, actually. The growing-back part was too upsetting."

It was good, Draco thought, to hear Harry say all that in such a light-hearted tone. Usually when he talked about the Dursleys, his voice went kind of flat. And no wonder, considering the way he'd been treated in that house.

Draco glanced at Severus, and saw that their father was looking rather pleased. Probably because Draco wasn't the only one who'd noticed Harry's tone. Well, Severus noticed everything, didn't he?

Or almost everything. He didn't have any idea about Draco's "shampoo" being something else entirely. Someday, Draco would tell him and they'd have a good laugh about the whole thing. Someday, years from now.

Draco couldn't think ahead that far, not now. He could really only think about tomorrow, when he could see Rhiannon at the pool and casually ask if that evening would be a good time for her to see his magic "act."

He'd show her some magic, all right. It just wouldn't be an act.

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

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Rhiannon said the next day over lunch. This time when Draco had asked her out, the uncle hadn't glowered quite as much. Well, he wouldn't, after the way Draco had behaved during their "man-to-man" talk on Saturday night. Draco had painted Severus as a strict father with high standards--all true, of course--and that had seemed to mollify Stanley Tilden quite a bit. "I'd love to see what sorts of tricks you can do!"

"Are you free this evening?"

"After rehearsal, yes. We should be done by . . ." Rhiannon put her fork down alongside her salad. "Nine, I would think. Earlier, if Adrian isn't in one of his moods."

"Perfect. I'll meet you."

"Are we going to your place, then?"

Draco shook his head. A real pity he couldn't invite her out to Devon, though not for the magic "show," of course. Severus and Harry weren't going to know a thing about that, not if he could help it. "I wish I could invite you to see my home," he said, making no effort to hide his regret. "But it's just not on. Severus is very protective of his privacy, you see. It's difficult to explain unless you understand his personal history, but he just doesn't like to have anyone in his house except a very few people he's known for years."

He'd practiced the explanation in his head several times, and he thought it had come out fairly smoothly, but it had more of an impact on Rhiannon than he'd expected.

Her lips turned down slightly. "Your father doesn't like me."

"No, no, it's not that--"

"It's because my stupid uncle made me say those things about showering!"

"No, Severus understood about that--"

Rhiannon's voice was low and fierce when she interrupted again. "I can hardly blame your father for resenting all that. I knew at the time that I should have told my uncle where he could put his job."

"You need the job so you'll have a place to stay in Exeter," said Draco in as reasonable a voice as he could manage. It was difficult, when what he wanted was to heartily agree that her uncle was a sod. "You can't give up the summer opera opportunity. Of course you can't. Severus understands all about it, I promise you. He doesn't dislike you."

Rhiannon glanced at Draco from beneath her lashes. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Not about a thing like that?"

She sounded like it really mattered to her, like it was important that Severus should like her. Or at least, that it was important that he didn't hate her.

"No, I wouldn't lie about that," said Draco, reaching around the side of the small table to take one of her hands. "He doesn't know you very well, but I'm sure he doesn't hold the pool incident against you. And I know he thinks well of your singing talent. Oh . . . that reminds me. We have tickets for this Thursday's performance." Draco frowned. "I wanted to get some seats that would be front-row centre, but that didn't work out."

"I think I'd be nervous to know you're so close."

Draco leaned forward, smiling. "I make you nervous, do I? I'd like to be a lot closer, Rhiannon."

He meant that in several ways. She knew that, he thought. The pink staining her cheeks said as much, but all she said was a quiet, "I meant that it would make me nervous to perform knowing that you were so close."

Draco's smile shifted towards a grin. "Odd. I don't think it'll bother me at all to have an audience of one, tonight."

"Do you want to use the stage? Adrian would probably agree, if I asked him."

"Oh, that would be perfect," said Draco, nodding. He'd thought he might have to rent a hotel room for the magic show, and that wasn't bound to go over so well, considering Rhiannon's issues regarding his wealth. But it had been the best he'd been able to come up with.

"Er . . . do you want me to ask the others if they'd like to stay for your act?" asked Rhiannon, a little tentatively. "I mean, it's a bit odd, a show with just me in the audience."

"I'd much rather be alone with you," breathed Draco.

She blushed again. "All right. I'll talk to Adrian. Thanks for lunch, Draco, but I'd better be getting back to the pool. You know how my uncle hates me to be late."

Draco stood up when Rhiannon did, and dropped a few notes onto the table. Rhiannon gave them a quick glance. Draco hoped she wasn't thinking that the money could have been put to better use, because it couldn't have. He had to eat, didn't he? Well, perhaps he could distract her. "Your uncle approved whole-heartedly when I told him that Severus takes a point per minute for lateness to his class."

"Oh, yes. Uncle Stanley would think that just grand. No wonder he told me that your father wasn't as 'liberal as he had feared,' as he put it."

Draco took her arm as they left the restaurant, but when they made it back to the pool, he had to leave her. He'd rather have stayed for free swim, but it wouldn't do to look like he couldn't bear to be apart from her.

Not even if he couldn't.

At any rate, Severus was waiting for him a few blocks over. He wanted to discuss the last two ethics texts with Draco, as he had to submit a final list of course books to the headmaster, soon. Draco felt a little warm thinking about it. Severus wasn't asking Harry for help with his textbook selections, was he? He was asking Draco, as well he should. What would Harry know about hard choices? His life had been hard, certainly, but he'd never had to turn his back on people he'd once pledged loyalty to.

"See you tonight," said Draco, bending down to give Rhiannon a brief kiss.

She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I can't wait."

Neither could Draco.

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

Draco wasn't sure if he should wait outside for Rhiannon, but since he was going to use the stage afterwards, he thought that might seem a bit odd. This time, when the man named Colin opened the door, he just gave Draco a nod and waved him inside.

Draco took a seat in the same chair he'd used the time before, and watched as Adrian corrected a few of the cast about exactly where they should be standing. "The lighting crew can't read your minds, you know," he said at one point, his voice getting louder with every word. "So you have to fucking know what you're supposed to be doing, or the spotlight'll hit empty stage! Any questions?"

Nobody did have any, Draco noticed.

Well, at least Rhiannon was "hitting her marks," as Adrian put it. Really, she was head-and-shoulders above the rest of the poor sods in the production, and it showed. In her voice, in her posture, in her whole manner of bearing. She was quality. Too good to be on stage alongside Muggles, but that would just have to be borne.

Not for the first time, Draco wondered why wizards hadn't developed a theatre world of their own.

"All right," Adrian finally said, his arms crossed as he scowled at his players. "Rehearsal's over, but for God's sake, Colin, don't light up until you get outside, this time!"

Draco rose to his feet, but paused when he saw Rhiannon going up to Adrian.

"You said I should talk with you afterwards."

Adrian was wearing a bit of a twisted smile, by then. "Oh, you did well enough, tonight. I'll lock the door behind me. You just be damned sure to close it good and tight when you leave, eh?"

"Thanks, Adrian." Rhiannon hesitated slightly. "Er . . . would you like to stay and watch?"

He practically guffawed. "A magic show? I don't think so. I've got a score I'm working on. Have fun with your boyfriend."

With that, he was off.

Bit rude, in Draco's view, but that didn't matter. How could it? This time, when Draco had been termed Rhiannon's "boyfriend," she hadn't said a word in protest.

"So, that's it, then," said Rhiannon as the stage door clanged shut. "Ready?"

Draco grinned. "Of course."

Rhiannon's forehead wrinkled. "But . . . didn't you bring anything with you? I mean, some props? A top hat, a . . . or do you have everything you need up your sleeve?"

Hmm. Good point. Draco wanted her relaxed, and she wouldn't be, not unless he struck her as the kind of magician she'd admired when she was little . . . the Muggle kind. Which meant he would need props, yes.

"Oh, I stowed my things where they wouldn't get in Adrian's way," he invented, Occluding to lend the lie an aura of authority. "Why don't you set up a table for me and a chair for yourself while I fetch them?"

Once he was out of her sight, Draco drew in a deep breath and conjured the kinds of items he thought she'd expect to see. Having her ramble about Muggle magic tricks had certainly helped him understand what she would consider normal.

He still felt a little nervous about using his wand so freely outside the protective wards in Devon, but he'd tried several spells earlier and nothing dire had happened. Of course, with all the magic guarding the cottage, it was possible that Ministry letters couldn't make it through to Severus. But the Ministry would most likely have traced his wand to Exeter, in that case. Aurors would have been sent to warn him personally, or apprehend him, even.

And nothing of the sort had occurred, so Draco did believe that he was perfectly safe using magic freely, now. It was just odd, that was all.

But it was only right. Harry could do all the magic he liked, law or no law, since he didn't even need a wand. Draco still sort of resented that, but he felt better about it, now.

When he went back on stage, he saw that Rhiannon had set a table up and had covered it with a long stretch of black fabric. She was sitting on a folding metal chair positioned front and centre, and was practically bouncing in her seat, she was so excited.

"Close your eyes while I get set up," said Draco, randomly setting items down. Once her eyes were closed, he banished everything except the top hat he'd conjured. That, he placed in the middle of the table. "All right, it's safe now."

"You are good at this," said Rhiannon at once. "That was some quick sleight-of-hand!"

Draco didn't quite know what she was talking about, but he didn't let that bother him. "Observe," he said, trying for the kind of voice he thought a stage performer would use. Confident, but not booming. He picked up the top hat as he spoke. "An ordinary hat such as you might see on any street in London."

"Any street in 1862, maybe."

Draco gave her a mock glare, but she seemed to take it seriously. "Sorry. I'll behave."

"There's nothing inside it," Draco continued, waving the hat in all directions and showing that it was empty. He might have never seen a Muggle magician at work, but he had seen quite a lot of Muggleborns at Hogwarts. Especially when they were just first-years, they talked about how different real magic was from what they'd expected. It didn't take a lot of imagination to realise from their comments that a magic act was mostly made up of words and actions proving that a trick couldn't work, and then making it work, regardless.

Draco shoved his hand inside the hat and moved it around. "Madam, you look like a sceptical sort of person. Would you like to examine this hat for yourself?"

"I certainly would," answered Rhiannon crisply. She took the hat and peered at it from all angles, then handed it back. "Yes, nothing but an ordinary hat. Too big for me, but . . ."

Oh, that was a good idea . . . Draco brandished his wand and waved it theatrically about, hoping he didn't look the way Lockhart used to when he would demonstrate a spell. He didn't want to come across as comical, certainly. "A size smaller, you," he ordered as he tapped the hat. The Latin incantation he said more softly. A shrinking spell, of course, one designed to have a very minimal effect. "Madam, your hat."

Rhiannon blinked as she turned it over in her hands, again. "It does seem a little bit smaller, I suppose. Maybe."

"Try it on."

She did, but demurred, "Well, I was just guessing it was too big, before."

"Oh ye of little faith," boomed Draco. He wasn't sure where he'd heard the phrase, but it seemed to fit. "Not impressed yet, Madam? Perhaps it's time to pull a rabbit from the hat, then!"

Before she could take it off her head, Draco waved his wand and conjured some young rabbits to appear inside the hat. He was quite proud of his conjuring, really. It was properly a seventh-year skill, but he'd mastered it, already. Harry might have dark powers and wandless magic and all the rest, but he was pants at conjuring, he really was. That only stood to reason, though; conjuring was really an advanced form of Transfiguration, which was one of Harry's worst subjects.

Rhiannon gave a little scream as three fat white rabbits, one after another, bounded off the top of her head. "How did you do that?"

"Magic!" said Draco, still in his performer's voice. "You there, rabbit!" he called out, pointing his wand at one of the animals. "Up, up with you! Wingardium Leviosa, I say! Over to the pretty lady with you, and we'll hear no more complaints!"

The rabbit bobbed through the air and dropped into Rhiannon's lap. Once there, it immediately hopped away again, though.

"Shall I fetch it back?"

"N . . . n . . . no," said Rhiannon, a trifle weakly. Actually, she sounded a little dazed. Draco felt rather satisfied by that. Obviously, he was much better on stage than she'd assumed.

"On to the next trick, then!" announced Draco, waving his wand about even more. "Elemental spirits and sprites of the forest, do my bidding! We shall have wind within these walls! A gentle breeze, if you please!"

He murmured one of the weather charms they'd learned that year as he swished his wand back and forth.

Rhiannon's hair fluttered as the magical wind swept through it.

Remembering what he'd told Rhiannon, Draco proceeded to make the table disappear, then, cloth and all.

"And now, for the grand finale--"

Rhiannon abruptly stood up from her chair, shaking her head. "No grand finale, no. I don't think so."

Draco's eyebrows drew together. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" echoed Rhiannon. "I . . . what's going on, that's what I'd like to know! Rabbits appearing out of nowhere, that's one thing, but on my head?"

"Oh. Sorry," said Draco, chagrined. That had been a little intrusive, yes. He hoped they hadn't mussed her hair too much. Though of course she looked as beautiful as ever, to Draco. "Butterflies would have been better?"

She looked at him like he wasn't even speaking English. "You made the rabbit float."

She said that in a tone of voice that was just . . . off, somehow. Like it hadn't been normal, after all, what he'd done. But wasn't levitation a standard Muggle trick? Draco was sure she'd mentioned it to him at some point when she was rhapsodising over magic. "I didn't hurt it, you know."

"Where are the wires?"

"Wires?"

"To make it float!"

Oh. His tricks had been too good, was that it? Draco almost conjured some wires for her, but that wasn't going to help, was it? She knew this theatre far better than he did; she'd know they hadn't been there when he'd started. "I . . . er, I made them disappear."

"Along with the table," she said flatly.

Draco started to speak, but she didn't even let him get the first word out.

"Magicians can't make wind appear like that, either. At least not any I've ever heard of. How did you do it?"

"I . . . er . . ."

"How did you do it?"

Draco thought fast. Not that it did him much good. "Oh, years and years of practice--"

"Do it again. Now."

Something about her tone set the hair on his arms standing on end. "Er . . . I . . . I don't know if the forest sprites are in still the mood. They can be a little temperamental, you know . . ."

Rhiannon took a step closer to him, and spoke very softly. "Please?"

Draco wasn't quite sure why she wanted to see the spell again, but the look in her eyes, the blue so intense now it called to mind the depths of the sea . . . he couldn't resist it. Or maybe it was the scent clinging to her hair that was getting to him. She smelled like a meadow in full bloom, like she was made of freshness and sunshine . . . Or maybe it was her smile, her lips curving in encouragement, even as they seemed to pucker slightly, as if inviting a kiss.

Draco didn't know for certain what part of all that was most persuasive. He only knew one thing, really, and it was that he longed to make her every dream come true.

Starting with the simple breeze she'd asked for. He waved his wand, revelling in the tingle of power flowing through him and into it. About time he could practice magic freely.

Rhiannon's hair picked up again, fluttering and then lifting away from her back and shoulders.

Sighing with evident pleasure, she turned around and around in the breeze, holding out her hands like she was trying to catch the air, or maybe the spell. "Keep it going," she said, her voice not so much flat now as fascinated. "Keep it going . . ."

Draco couldn't, though, not forever. The spell slipped from his grasp after a few more moments. By then he felt drained. Sustaining weather charms really demanded a lot of energy, which was probably a good thing. He'd hate to think what a mess the students would make of Hogwarts if each and every one of them could make it rain for hours on end.

"That's not a trick at all," said Rhiannon as her hair fell back to cling to the simple blouse she was wearing. "Is it."

She said the last part like a statement, not a question.

For his part, Draco wasn't sure what to reply. He'd been taught from an early age never to discuss magic with outsiders. The Ministry might have a lot of nonsensical rules, but that one was actually sound policy, in his view.

But Rhiannon wasn't an outsider, was she? Not really . . .

And she'd asked. She wanted to know. She was ready to know. Merlin's beard, she already knew, didn't she? Draco could see it in her eyes.

He wanted to tell her, wanted to confirm what she'd guessed on her own, but before he could, she was saying it for him.

"Magic is real, isn't it? And you can do it, you can make things appear and make them disappear, and . . . you aren't a stage magician at all, I don't think. You're just a magician."

"That's not a word we use."

Rhiannon stepped closer and ran her hands over both Draco's forearms. His bare skin tingled where she touched it, making Draco all at once happy he'd worn short sleeves, this evening. When she spoke, she sounded like she was wading through dreams. "Magician, no . . . of course not. I used to think about this, you know, witches and faeries and forest sprites, just like you said. I used to make up stories about it in my head. Just stories. But they're all real, aren't they? Tell me, Draco! Tell me if I'm wrong and you've just got an act that could dazzle God himself--"

"You're not wrong," Draco said, pulling her closer.

"They're real?" Rhiannon melted into him.

"Well, witches are, at least. I've never actually met a fairy or a forest sprite, to be honest."

He felt rather than heard her soft gasp. "You're a witch, then."

Draco winced, but since he was holding her so tight, she couldn't see it. "Wrong word, again."

"Oh. Sorry. Warlock, I suppose?"

"Wizard."

"Wizard." Draco wouldn't have thought she could get any closer, but at that, she did, sort of snuggling against him. "Really? Truly? It's not just some sort of joke?"

"I go to a school of wizardry," he said against her hair. "And Severus doesn't teach chemistry. His specialty is Potions."

"Potions." Draco had the feeling that she was searching her memory, looking for snippets of information from stories or legends. Anything, to help her understand. "Do you really brew them in a cauldron?"

Draco laughed a little. "Yes, I really brew them in a cauldron. I'm quite good at that, actually."

"Name something you can make."

"Hmm . . ." He didn't want to mention anything that might frighten her. Though granted, the whole idea of magic seemed to fascinate rather than alarm her. Which only stood to reason. She was no Muggle to run screaming from the idea of wizardry. "Wart-removal potion. I just learned to make it this past year. It's tricky because you need a wand at a couple of points, and it won't come out right if you don't do the spells just so--"

It seemed like Rhiannon was thirsty to know more and more about the world she'd always suspected was there, since she didn't even let him finish his sentence. "And broomsticks, is that true? You fly around on them?"

"I've even got the latest model of Firebolt." Her total lack of reply made him realise how meaningless the claim must sound to her. "Yes, I mean. I can fly on a broomstick. I'm good at that, too. We play a sport at my school that's sort of like . . . er, rugby, I suppose," he said, naming the only Muggle sport he'd heard anything about. "Anyway, it's played completely on brooms, everybody soaring through the air . . ."

Rhiannon stepped back, looking unsettled even though she still seemed astonished and deeply pleased to know that magic was real. "Er . . . what is it that makes you a wizard, then? Just learning the craft at this school, then?"

"No . . . you have to be born with magic." He almost added, and you were, but decided that she might have been dealt enough shocks for one night. Even if she didn't seem particularly shocked.

Besides, learning that he was a wizard was one thing. Finding out that she wasn't what she'd always believed herself to be . . . that was something else again. She'd need to discover that on her own.

Draco could help, but he didn't think he could convince her, not all on her own. She needed to find the truth inside herself.

"Can I . . ." Rhiannon cleared her throat. "Can I see your wand? It's real, right? What am I saying . . . of course it's real."

Draco's plan all along had been to hand her his wand so she could feel it resonating to the thrum of her own magic . . . that wouldn't happen now, of course. She wasn't relaxed and happy and in a receptive state. She was dazed by all of this, though handling it remarkably well. But then, Draco was only confirming what she'd known in her soul, all along.

Magic was indeed real.

He handed her his wand and started to explain. "It channels magic. Wands have cores that come from magical animals. Phoenixes, dragons--"

"Oh, my God. Dragons?"

Perhaps she was more shocked than Draco had realised. She'd suddenly lost a good bit of colour. Draco shrugged, and tried to help her see the world the way he did. The way she should have seen it, all along. "Oh yes. Dragons are real enough. Harry even battled one, once, as part of a magic competition."

"Oh, my God. Dragons," she said again, a little more weakly. She waved the wand then, in sort of an up and down motion, her technique just awful. She held it like it was a knife, actually. The sight of it set Draco's nerves on edge, but he pushed the feeling back. "Are vampires real?"

"Yes, but I've never met one."

"Werewolves."

"I have met one of those." Draco forced himself to focus on the long conversations he'd had with Lupin near the end of term, when they'd been working together to make sure that the werewolf could successfully impersonate Lucius. He still didn't like Lupin very much, but they were on the same side, and Lupin was putting himself at great risk in order to get information that might someday help Harry win this war. So, all things considered . . . "Not . . . not a bad sort of bloke, really."

If he laid so much as a paw on Narcissa, though, Draco would revise that assessment and find a way to make Lupin wish he'd never taken up acting at all.

Rhiannon whistled through her teeth, and sat down again in the folding chair. "You might have told me all this a little sooner."

"Actually, I'm not supposed to tell you at all." Draco shrugged. "You seemed so enamoured of magic, though. Your eyes would glow whenever you talked about it . . . and . . . I just wanted to make you happy, I suppose." That was true, even if it wasn't the whole truth.

"Why aren't you supposed to tell me?"

"We have our own set of laws."

"We?"

"The wizarding world."

Rhiannon shook her head. "So strange to know that it's been there all along, like I used to think." She suddenly laughed. "Your act is awful, by the way."

Draco started. "Come again?"

Rhiannon tilted her head to one side. "Oh, not the magic, obviously. That was bloody marvellous, it was. Start to finish. But your patter, Draco? Nothing but clichés. Worse, you sounded like you didn't mean a single word."

"Well, that was the first magic show I've ever done," murmured Draco, a little offended. "I've never even seen a magic show. Well, not the kind you mean."

"You don't show off for each other at that school of yours?"

"Oh, we do, but we do it through duels, or playing tricks on one another."

Rhiannon grinned, looking like she was trying to imagine that, but after a moment, her whole expression sobered. "This is why I can't come to your home, isn't it? There are magical things lying around and I'm not allowed to see them?"

Draco gave a half-shrug, half-nod. "I suppose there are some. Like my broom . . . but I can't invite you home mostly because there's been a privacy spell put on it. You literally can't go there unless you've been told where it is, by the person who cast the spell. Who wasn't me, by the way, so . . . there's nothing I can do about it."

"Oh. Are you going to get in trouble for telling me magic is real? It's not your fault, really. I did figure it out on my own. Well, after you made it obvious, I suppose."

"Just don't let on that you know." Draco went to her chair and knelt beside it, taking her hands in his. "All right? Severus would be furious with me, and he'd probably forbid me to see you again. Not that I'd let him stop me," he added, thinking that since he was over seventeen now, Severus really didn't have any authority over him. "But I'd much rather not have to argue with him, you see?"

"Oh, I won't breathe a word," said Rhiannon, nodding. "Not to anyone. But that's a shame. I'd love to talk to more wizards. I mean, openly."

"You'll be able to, someday." And not because the sodding Statute of Secrecy made an exception for committed, long-term relationships. The Statute didn't even really apply to her, but until Draco could prove that to the satisfaction of all concerned, it was best for her to keep her knowledge to herself.

Well, Rhiannon might not have realised yet that she was a witch, but at least she could see magic for what it was, now. She knew it existed. That was certainly a step in the right direction.

"You didn't know, did you?" Rhiannon asked softly, her fingers caressing his. "Outside the club, that man . . . you really didn't know that he was a drug addict, that he'd pawn that necklace to buy heroin. You come from a different world, and not just because you're rich." She suddenly gasped. "Is that why you're rich? You can make money appear?"

"No, things don't work that way. There are poor wizards, too."

"Oh, all right."

She sounded happy about that, actually. Well, she was daft when it came to wealth. Draco had known that much for a while. Her question, though, reminded him about what he'd decided. He did want to show her that he could do something good for other people.

"Listen, there's a children's home I help support," he said. It wasn't really a lie. He was going to give them a huge pile of Galleons. It would be worth it, to make Rhiannon happy. "I wondered if you'd like to go see it? It's sort of like an orphanage."

"How can it be sort of like one?"

"Oh . . . er, well, don't let on that you know, of course, but it's for children who've been rejected by their families. For not having magic."

Rhiannon abruptly let go of his hands. "Is that common?"

"No, no. Most families take very good care of their squ--" Huh, talking to her made him realise how crude the usual term might sound, to someone who hadn't heard it before. "Of their magic-less relatives," he rushed to correct himself. "But there are some who turn them out. Any decent wizard thinks it's a scandal. But the children need a place, somewhere besides with such a heartless family. So I help support the home. With donations. I want to go visit it again and make sure my money's being put to the best possible use . . . would you like to come along?"

"That's good of you to do something for these children." Rhiannon frowned. "The poor things. Yes, I'll come."

"I'll arrange it," said Draco, nodding as he got to his feet. "Later this week. Perhaps Thursday. We'll go early so it won't interfere with your performance that night."

Rhiannon tilted her head up. "Can I . . . can I see more magic, Draco?"

"As much as you like."

"Without the patter, though." Rhiannon rubbed her hands together. "Can I have another rabbit?"

"I'll even cast a calming spell this time, so it'll sit still on your lap."

Draco would have cast a continence spell as well, if he'd realised just what an effect a calming spell would have on a conjured rabbit. It ended up making a terrible mess. But a cleaning charm took care of that.

Oddly enough, Rhiannon seemed to find Lavare the most impressive spell of all.

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

Coming soon in A Summer Like None Other:

Chapter Fifteen: It Tolls for Thee

Comments very welcome.

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