A Summer Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight
Summary: COMPLETE. Family isn't everything, as Harry, Snape, and Draco discover in this sequel to A Year Like None Other. How will a mysterious mirror and a surprising new relationship affect a father and his two sons?
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dudley, Hermione, Remus, Ron
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Angst, Drama, General
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Slytherin!Harry, SuperPower! Harry
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Character Death, Self-harm
Challenges: None
Series: A Year Like None Other
Chapters: 24 Completed: Yes Word count: 236038 Read: 165707 Published: 21 Dec 2008 Updated: 21 Dec 2008
Trip Wires by aspeninthesunlight

That evening in Exeter, Harry watched silently as his father rolled out yet another length of golden wire. Standing slightly apart from it, Snape used his wand to make a long, slow arc through the air while he said the same incantation Harry had heard well over a dozen times that night, in street after street.

Only when they were walking away from the Northbrook Pool did Harry speak. "So that's it, you think?"

Snape cast a glance back the way they had come, then indicated the small amount of wire left on the wooden spool in his hand. "I expect we have enough for a few more. Would you like to do them? I think you must know the process by now."

Yeah, Harry did. After two straight hours of watching his father, he thought he probably had it down pat. In theory, at least. Casting the spell himself was another matter. Seeing it successfully performed, over and over, didn't mean he would have any idea as to the correct Parseltongue translation. That was nearly always a matter of trial and error.

Harry wasn't so sure that he wanted to fumble about, figuring out the right words while Snape watched. It was different in class; there, Snape had plenty to do besides pay attention to Harry. But now, he had the man's undivided interest.

That made for a nice change, in some ways, Harry had to admit. He couldn't have a private talk with his father at the cottage, not unless he made a point of excluding Draco. And that was rather awkward. It wasn't like it had been back at Hogwarts, with Snape's quarters large enough that it wasn't so obvious when Harry would rather have their father all to himself.

Hmm. Maybe Draco wanting to go on dates wasn't such a bad thing, in some ways. Getting some time alone with Snape now was like a bit of a bonus, as far as Harry was concerned, especially considering that the man had used the time to teach him nifty new magic.

But now Snape wanted to see him perform the spell. That was a little surprising. "What about the Decree?" Harry asked. He couldn't stop himself from adding the rest. "You did once tell me that you'd heard of it, yeah?"

He almost laughed at the way Snape tried not to smile. He could always tell, now, when his father was doing his best not to let his feelings show. Positive feelings, at least. Snape liked to keep those buttoned up tight, though perhaps not so much as before, Harry thought.

"The Decree poses little issue at present," Snape said, his tone light.

Oh. No wonder he'd said that. "Those diversion spells you started with, to keep anyone from noticing what we say or do, they'll also keep the Ministry from sensing underage magic?"

Snape shook his head. "If the rules were that easy to circumvent, there' d be little point in having them at all. But in your case?" He gave Harry's fingers a rather significant glance.

"Not registered, yeah. I get that." For a second, Harry was struck with an awful sense of responsibility. His magic wasn't just bizarrely strong, or unique, it also gave him some advantages that other wizards didn't have. Of course, there were plenty of wizards with unregistered wands, but a suspicious Ministry official could still perform Priori Incantatem on those, assuming they were found. Harry doubted that a Priori would work on his fingers. He'd bet that they only understood Parseltongue. "Actually, I was thinking more about how you've been so insistent, ever since the spring holidays, that Draco mustn't Apparate alone, and such. You don't want to encourage law-breaking."

Snape shrugged, taking Harry by the elbow to guide him. The trip wire spell cast earlier tickled Harry as they passed through the far edge of it. The sensation, Snape had explained earlier, was the spell announcing that it would discount their presence. He'd gone on to discuss how to delimit trip wire spells, and what the limitations of the technique were. By the end there, he had definitely shifted into full professor mode, but that was all right. In fact, it reminded Harry how much he'd longed for magic during previous summers. He'd thirsted for it. He'd read his books obsessively, when he could get to them. Which wasn't often. That might explain why he'd missed all his classes so much, too . . . well, not Potions, he had to admit.

But this summer, he wasn't missing anything. He was surrounded on all sides by magic, and instead of punishing him for so much as saying the word, his family wanted to talk about it, wanted him to learn more all the time. Harry had got used to thinking of summers as times when he had to stay away from his real home. From his real self. But now, he was home, in more ways than one. It wasn't just that he had a father now, a real father, or a brother too. It was that they accepted him--all of him--even those parts he'd got used to believing would never be welcomed by anyone in his family.

Though come to think of it, even Dudley was all right knowing about his magic, these days. Being magical wasn't something he had to hide from the people he loved, not now. Not ever again.

A sense of gratitude seemed to sweep through him, making him feel like he was wrapped up in a large, soft comforter. Harry sighed a little, happily. He really did have all the things he'd ever wanted, right down to swimming lessons, and someone who would sit on the bleachers and watch him while he floundered about in the water. Someone who would tell him afterwards, that he'd done well. Harry felt even warmer just thinking about it, and realised a bit wryly that the swimming lessons meant a lot more to him than they probably should.

He had a sudden urge to thank Snape again. Not just for arranging lessons, though that was a big part of it. But, no . . . it was more than that. It was everything. For adopting Harry to begin with. For wanting him around. For being there for him, every day since, even when Harry messed up, like with not asking for help a lot sooner after he'd listened to what that awful portrait had to say . . .

"Dad?"

"Hmmm?"

Harry smiled a bit, then just shook his head. He knew well enough that what his father wanted from him wasn't thanks. And maybe Snape was right to think that, Harry suddenly realised. Maybe, in a family, you weren't supposed to be so grateful when people did things for you. He'd talked about that with Marsha, more than once. Being in a family meant that you were supposed to have people you could depend on. People who loved you. People to love, who wouldn't thank you, either, not just for being what you were--a son.

A good son, Harry decided, though he didn't mean that the way Draco liked to think. Harry just knew that he had a lot of reasons to appreciate Snape. An awful lot.

"Is there anything you need, Dad? Anything I can do for you?"

Snape looked a bit surprised by the question, and then, for an instant, almost calculating. "Perhaps there is," he murmured, so quietly that Harry barely caught it. Then, louder, "Yes, I do believe there is."

Harry waited, but the man didn't say anything further.

"Mind telling me what?"

Snape glanced at him as they walked along. "We'll have a late supper together after you've completed the final trip wires. We'll discuss it then. All right?"

Harry nodded, still a little bemused that his father wanted him to cast spells away from the privacy of their cottage. "So why are you being stricter with Draco than with me? I thought you'd want to be everything to be even. You know, fair."

"Fair isn't giving each of you the same things, Harry," drawled Snape. "It's making sure that each of you has what you most need."

That put Harry in mind of the ethics books. Only Draco had had to read them . . . though Harry would get to hear plenty on that topic, if it was going to be a required course for seventh-year students.

"What Draco needs right now," Snape was continuing, "is practice controlling his impulses. Not to mention, an appreciation that the rules do apply to him."

Harry nodded, though he couldn't help but point something out, even as he grimaced slightly. "But don't you think that last part is valid for me, as well? You have been pretty disapproving of people letting me break rules."

Snape didn't smile. "I have. But this is a bit different from letting Draco Apparate alone. You shouldn't imply that I'm allowing you to run wild with unauthorised magic, when in fact you're under close supervision tonight. Besides, Harry . . . you aren't like Draco."

Harry wiggled his fingers a little, raising his eyebrows.

Snape chuckled slightly. "I didn't mean that, not this time. I meant that your character is different. You do disregard the rules at times, yes. Much more than I would like, but you don't do it in order to indulge yourself. You tend to break rules only in aid of others."

"I don't know about that--"

"Do you remember when you used to ask about your invisibility cloak? You wanted it so Draco could use it on the pitch. You didn't ask for yourself."

Harry liked the praise, but didn't feel he could take it under false pretences like this. His father was forgetting something. Something important. "I wanted it later, for myself."

Or maybe Snape wasn't forgetting anything at all. "Yes, in your bid to keep yourself from going dark. You didn't truly want it for yourself at all, Harry. Once again, you were trying to save the rest of us, however misguided the effort. It's as I said. You break rules to help others, or at the very least, to attempt such help."

Attempt such help. A pang of missing Sirius flashed through Harry, but he forced it away from him. There was nothing else to do, though if he could get that mirror back at Hogwarts working, perhaps he could find a way to talk to Sirius and ease this pain. Harry would bet that Marsha would say that was healthier than him deliberately distancing himself from it. Or maybe not. Being a squib, she might find the idea of talking with a dead person a little off-putting.

For now, though, distraction was the order of the day. And what Snape had implied was pretty damned distracting, come to think of it.

"So you approve of that now, do you? My saving-people thing? I thought you thought that was indulging myself."

Snape stopped walking to give him a long, serious glance. "I don't know that approve is apt. But I have come to recognise that it's a part of you. An important part of you."

Acceptance, again. Harry looked up into his father's eyes, not sure what to say. It came to him that quite possibly, that was the nicest thing anybody had ever said to him. Somehow, he didn't think Snape would want to hear as much. It would almost be like calling the man sweet. It didn't quite fit, even if, in his own way, Snape really could be . . . sort of soft, sometimes.

"That's not to say that there's never any need to temper the trait," Snape was adding now, the look in his eyes going stern. "We all have qualities which serve us well in some situations and not others."

"Yeah, I remember." Harry started walking again. "What was it you said, back when we first went to Surrey together? Something about honour and valour having a place, but how it would take more than that to win this war?"

"You were listening."

Harry couldn't keep a thin layer of scorn from his voice. "I always listen to you, Severus."

"Now, perhaps. But back then?" Snape shrugged a little, the gesture looking strangely pleased. "You recall what I said next?"

"About a certain hat? Sure."

Snape looked even more pleased, though he only showed it by means of lightening his gait. Harry knew how to read him, though. He knew the exact moment when the man's pleasure faltered slightly.

"And what would your opinion of that be, after spending some months in my house?"

It wasn't like Snape to fish for compliments, so Harry knew at once that something else was going on. Snape wanted an honest answer. He really wanted to know what Harry thought. "Oh. Well, I really like being in both houses, but that's not what you meant, I think. Um . . . I'm not sure how much stealth and cunning I'm really learning, to be honest. Sometimes it seems like I can figure out a sneaky way of going about things, though. But that was always true. Well, to some extent."

"To some extent," mocked Snape. "One might conclude you had never, for example, spent extensive time in a girl's lavatory working on a secret project."

So he had known all about that. Probably, right down to the cat hair. Well, Snape had said that he and the headmaster had few secrets, and Dumbledore was pretty certain to be aware of most everything going on in the castle. Though Harry would bet his vault that Snape hadn't learned about the Polyjuice fiasco for quite some time after it had happened.

Bet his vault. Draco was rubbing off on him more than he'd realised.

"Slytherin doesn't mean sneaky so much, anyway," Harry said. He wasn't sure why he'd avoided saying "the Sorting Hat," considering how well he and Snape were currently concealed. The diversion spell made sure that nobody would pay attention to anything they said or did. Perhaps all that practice watching what he said at the pool. "I get that now. It's more a different way of figuring out how to get things done."

They'd reached the theatre by then. Snape drew Harry down an alleyway beside it. "The direct approach isn't always the best solution to a problem."

"Like telling Draco he can't come to Exeter, instead of going to all this work to make sure that he'll be safe when he does," murmured Harry.

Snape inclined his head. "Exactly. Yes."

Harry personally thought that criss-crossing Exeter with trip wires to help Draco was short-sighted. What they ought to be doing was curing him of his Rhiannon-obsession, not helping him indulge it still further. Marsha would call it enabling, Harry thought. Except, she wouldn't call it that in this case, since she thought Harry ought to leave Draco to his crazed romance, no matter how it turned out.

He didn't want to believe that Snape thought that same. "You could make him obey you, though. I'm sure you could. About the Apparition."

"And when he gains his license to Apparate when and as he sees fit?"

"Well, he'll still be living in your house and have to follow your rules. You said that yourself."

"He'll be seventeen soon, and of an age to make his own decisions, Harry. It's not as though he's short of funds and unable to establish a separate residence, foolish as that might be while the war is ongoing--"

"Oh, no. I shouldn't have given him Sirius' money, you mean?"

"No." Snape looked impatient. "That was well-done of you. My point is this: I've no desire to drive either of my sons from what is now rightfully their home. Negotiation, remember?"

Yeah, Harry did. And he could see Snape's point. Well, sort of. He'd still rather that somebody would put a foot down here. But clearly, that wasn't going to happen. And Snape was right; being too strict about seeing Rhiannon probably would drive Draco away. So that just wasn't on.

"Shall I continue with the trip wires, then?" asked Snape, his voice still more impatient than Harry would have liked. "Since you've apparently no intention of assisting?"

That made him sound a bit of a prat. Harry didn't like the feeling that Snape might see him that way, just now. "I didn't say that. I'll give the spell my best effort, though you know there are a few that I've never made work."

"Yes, I know. Time will set it all to rights, I've no doubt."

Harry nodded. He thought so, too; his lexicon was growing daily, now, though some of his spells were a little strange, like his firefly-Lumos, as he'd taken to thinking of it. "One thing, though. Are you sure your discretion spell will be enough?"

"I am actually competent in the magical arts," Snape said, his voice very dry. "Or did you need to review my N.E.W.T. results again?"

Harry didn't back down. "I trust your casting. I was just wondering if it would cover my Parseltongue. You know, how the Death Eaters had figured out to locate me by listening for it? I'd hate to draw them here, when the whole point of this is to keep Draco as safe as possible."

"Ah. A valid point." Snape actually looked impressed, Harry thought. And that certainly didn't happen very often. "But the spell will still serve."

Harry waved a hand through the air, wiggling his fingers. "All right. Um . . . nobody will  see, but do you want me to hold my wand in hand? On principle?"

"It makes it more difficult to learn a new spell, I think?"

It sure did. Harry had to figure out the right translation and be sure he didn't accidentally let any spell energy flow from his hand into his wand. Which was tricky with new spells, as you never really knew what direction the energy would want to go.

Snape must have read the answer in his face. "No wand at present, then," he conceded. "Though in class I'm afraid there is no alternative. For the time being."

Harry shrugged to say it didn't matter. Or maybe he meant more than that. He didn't like to be different, after all. He'd rather not have everybody aware that he could do wandless magic. That he had to do it, if he wanted his spells to come out right, instead of frighteningly strong. It was bad enough that everyone knew he had to cast in Parseltongue.

He took the coil of wire from Snape and laid a length of it across the alley, easily snipping it with his personal version of Cortus. Carefully angling the ends of the wire to point skyward, as Snape had done, Harry stepped back. Fingers splayed, he waved his arm in an arc.

"Wider. You do want the spell to fill the entire alley."

Harry started over, this time waving his arm more dramatically. Then, it was just a matter of glancing at the snake image etched into his glasses, and saying what the spell meant to him. Bugger the Latin. Sometimes Harry's versions weren't even close to the formal translations.

"Tell ussss if people like us sssslither through here," he tried, bemused when he heard how that came out. People didn't slither, but of course snakes had only one means of movement.

The thin thread of gold at Harry's feet didn't even glow.

Damn.

He was pretty used to his first attempt at a new spell failing, though. Casting in Parseltongue could really be a pain in the arse. Nobody knew that better than him. Ha--it was more like, nobody but him knew it at all.

Sometimes that made him feel pretty much alone, but he couldn't feel that way now, not with his father standing right alongside him, patiently waiting for Harry to test another way of calling forth the spell.

"Don't let men like ussss crosssss you . . ."

That time, he knew even before he finished that the spell would fail. The trip wire wasn't supposed to trap magical folk, after all. It was just supposed to alert Snape--or Harry--if any wizards or witches walked through here. Snape had explained earlier that Draco was likely to want lots of time alone with Rhiannon. Short of hanging about in Exeter several evenings a week, Snape needed a way to know at once if the town ceased to be a place full of Muggles alone.

"Won't Draco trip the wires himself, though?" Harry had asked.

"Exactly why we're using wire. With a physical anchor for the spell, it's possible to exclude specific individuals. I arranged in advance for the wire to ignore you and Draco, as well as myself. Anyone else carrying a wand, registered or no, will trip the wire. So to speak."

Harry had started slightly, halfway through that explanation. "Um. . .you didn't use anything like a lineage potion, I hope."

Snape expression had darkened. "What have I told you about only one of us here being the father?"

Once, Harry would have backed down at that, but he had a firmer sense these days, of where Snape's real limits were. "I'm allowed to look out for you," he insisted. "We're family."

"So we are." Snape paused, but only briefly. "A lineage potion would only link to those named Snape, assuming I am the brewer. However, trip wires by their very nature allow one to be as specific as needs be. All that is required is access to the wands of the wizards one wishes to exclude from the spell."

Harry felt better once he'd heard all that. He did trust Snape, of course, but sometimes he wondered about all the dark magic the man must be familiar with. Too much of it could twist your soul, and he'd hate to think of Snape putting himself at risk like that, even to help Draco.

Especially to help Draco with something like this.

Harry shook himself away from thoughts like that. They'd only make him want to not cast the spell, and that would hardly help his magic flow. So . . . how else to translate Snape's smoothly delivered Avisato Alambrum?

Harry thought, not for the first time, how strange it was that spells always sounded so much better in Latin. But then again, he had no idea how his Parseltongue sounded to others, did he? Other than frightening . . .  but actually, most of the students and all of the professors except Aran had got used to him casting using snake language, so he didn't suppose it sounded all that terrifying to them.

"Hissss if you feel more people like usss," Harry tried.

The wire at his feet glowed strongly, becoming like a flash of light. A pale pink flash that swept upward into the sky, licking at the sides of the buildings. And that wasn't all. As soon as he and Snape began walking away, the magical energy spread to fill the alley from side to side. It wasn't even accurate to call these trip wires. They were more like trip fogs. Invisible trip fogs, after that first distinctive flash, but Harry could feel the magic following close on his heels, then when he turned, surging past him to cross the street they emerged onto.

"That's really something," he breathed, the zing of the spell as it rushed past him raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He hadn't felt anything like this when his father had been the one casting, so maybe something had gone wrong? But then again, it seemed like Snape didn't feel the spell when Harry was the one casting it. He was glancing sideways at Harry now, his dark eyes glinting with humour.

"It worked quite well, then, I take it?"

Harry nodded, wondering how far the spell might spread if there were no buildings to stop it. As spells went, it was quite clever, since it filled the wider street outside the alley just as well as the alley itself.

And that zing was still giving him the shivers. Harry rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms, wishing he had robes on.

"You'll get used to it."

Snape was right. Once Harry had figured out the spell, it was a simple matter to lay more trip wires around the streets surrounding the theatre. By the time he'd used up all their wire, the feel of the spell was a minor irritant, nothing more. Finally, Harry held out the empty wooden spool in his palm. "Did you bring along a second one?"

Harry almost laughed at the incredulous look on his father's face. "We've done all the main thoroughfares, as well as those places your brother is most likely to frequent. Do you want to blanket every inch of the city?"

"No need to be sarcastic."

Snape hid another smile. "Facetious, I do believe."

"Only word in English with all five vowels in order," quipped Harry, startling Snape. "Well, according to Hermione."

"What a useless bit of knowledge," Harry heard his father mutter.

Now it was Harry who was hiding a smile. "So, that late supper?" he asked, to cover it. "How about pizza?"

Snape grimaced, but began walking towards the city centre as he stowed the empty spool in an inner pocket of the long coat he was wearing. "Is that really what you want?"

Harry nodded, but inside he was thinking that Snape's Muggle dress sense was quite odd. The coat was the sort of thing any businessman might wear over his suit on a blustery winter day; it was possibly the closest thing that a men's store might have to a robe, so it was little wonder Snape favoured it, even if it only reached to his knees. But it didn't look right, not in July.

Well, at least Snape didn't wear it when he came to the pool to watch Harry swim.

"So, pizza's really all right with you?"

"It's repulsive, but since you can hardly ask for whatever suits during the summer--"

Snape broke off and suddenly drew Harry back into the shadows of a side-street. A moment later, Draco strolled right past them, his step light and confident. He looked happier than he'd been in a long, long time. Actually, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen his brother looking quite so delighted. Enchanted, even. There wasn't a trace of stress or worry on his face.

Draco was holding Rhiannon by the arm, the touch looking casual but somehow gallant as well. As they crossed the street, walking away from the alley where Snape and Harry were hiding, the two of them were chatting animatedly about how silly it was that people confused Verdi with Monteverdi.

Snape remained dark and still until the pair was long gone, which struck Harry as a little odd. Still, he only asked when it seemed like the coast was clear. "What about the notice-me-not charm you cast earlier? Draco couldn't have seen us, could he?"

"He could have. That spell is designed to provide privacy from outsiders, not among those who share an abode."

"Oh. Well, no harm done. I don't think he did see us." Harry almost scoffed. "I don't think he'd have seen us even if we'd stood in front of him and shouted. He had eyes only for that girl."

Snape muttered a quiet oath. "Still, we should have started here and worked our way towards the pool. It was never my intention to spy on your brother and his date."

Harry wouldn't put it past Snape to spy on either of his sons, date or no, if he thought it necessary in any way. The fact that he didn't seemed to underline something for Harry. "You really do believe that Exeter is safe, then?"

"I wasn't certain, not at first. But after spending more time here . . ." Snape shrugged. "I don't anticipate that Draco will have any problems."

"Then why all the trip wires?"

Snape angled him a glance.

"Right. Better safe than sorry."

"When it comes to you or Draco, most assuredly."

Harry couldn't help but think, then, of the many times he'd concluded that the Dursleys would probably be relieved if he were run over by a speeding lorry. Not to mention the times that Uncle Vernon had threatened to throw him in front of one. Fairly sad, really, that Snape's comment could make Harry feel so loved. It was only an expression of normal concern, the kind of thing any parent should feel.

Harry's arms started itching. His aunt and uncle were long beyond his reach, but damned if he didn't wish he could reach down into the realm of the dead and yank them out of it, just so he could yell at them. Or worse. He should have had someone taking care of him who cared, all along!

"Harry?"

Best to be honest, right? He knew by then that Snape couldn't help him with problems he hid. Well, actually he could, as he was really good at figuring things out, but it was more difficult. "I'd give a lot for a needle right now," Harry said, his voice grating over the admission.

Snape's teeth clicked together. "Because I'm concerned for Draco?"

That was pretty insulting. Maybe Snape wasn't as good at figuring things out as Harry had thought. "No, of course not!"

Snape's hand on his shoulder stopped him from turning away. "Talk."

Harry looked up into his face. "I was just thinking about how you compare to the Dursleys, and what I'd probably do to them if I could get my hands on them."

"Ah. I see." Snape's voice sounded dark, though his comment wasn't. "I don't think you'd do anything at all, Harry."

"Ha. You didn't see Aunt Marge, blown up like a blimp, screaming as she drifted out over Magnolia Crescent."

"You misunderstand. You wouldn't do anything because I'd be in your way."

"Keeping me from the dangers of revenge."

"No, beating you to it."

Harry gaped.

"Just as well they're dead and gone, I think," added Snape, shrugging philosophically.

It took Harry a moment to catch his breath. "What happened to vengeance being so bad for you?"

"I'd make an especial exception for them."

"You didn't, though," said Harry slowly. "You heard how poisonous Uncle Vernon was towards me, and you never--"

"He was dead long before I truly understood what his poison had wrought."

Harry gulped. Part of him wanted to dispute that last bit. He wanted to say that he was fine. That it didn't bother him that his caretakers for so many years would rather he'd never been born. Once, he would have said it. Hell, he might even have believed it. But now that he knew what it was like to have a real parent, now that he knew what he'd missed out on, what he'd been cheated of . . .

"Probably shouldn't feel so good over you wanting to skewer them on your wand," he muttered.

"Anyone would feel that way."

Harry didn't want to waste thought on the Dursleys any longer. "Yeah," he said thickly, trying to come up with something to get them off the topic. "Hey . . . didn't I ward that street Draco turned onto? And I didn't hear any clang, like you said I would, if somebody else magical crossed the trip wires--" He nodded, glad to have it confirmed, once and for all. Not that there'd really ever been any doubt. "Rhiannon Miller's not a witch."

"Definitely, time for that meal," said Snape briskly. He began walking, striding off in the opposite direction from the one Draco had taken, and as he did, he flicked his wand to dissolve the notice-me-not charm he'd cast over himself and Harry earlier. "Mind what you say and do, now."

Harry didn't need the reminder, but said nothing of it. When they came alongside a pub he realised how hungry he was. Pizza would have been great, but he didn't want to hunt up a place that made it. "I could fancy a shepherd's pie," he hinted, slowing his steps. "And a pint."

He actually didn't think that Snape would get him one, but was pleasantly pleased when the man came back from the bar carrying two tall mugs of Guinness.

"Wow. Thanks."

"The least I can do. You spared me the pizza."

Harry chuckled, but not for long. In the next moment, Snape started looking grim. "As well, you'll probably need it once you hear what I'd most like you to do for me."

Uh-oh. Harry didn't have any notion what that might mean. The first thought that flashed through his head was made up of two words: mutual repudiation. But that was just stupid. He wasn't worried about that any longer!

Harry thought better than to start guessing out loud. "If you need something, I'd be glad to help. Whatever it is," he said, meaning every word. The idea that he could do something for this man who'd done so very much for him--it filled him with a sudden sense of excitement. Glee, almost. Until he thought of one thing.

"Oh. Um, if you want me to quarrel less with Draco, I should probably mention that I have been trying really hard already--"

"You have." That felt almost like a well done, at least until Snape continued speaking. "Except in regards to one thing, I should say."

Ha. Harry didn't need to guess about that, did he? "Rhiannon," he said, the name sounding a bit dull. He could guess the rest of it, too. "Yeah, Marsha said I ought to let Draco make his own mistakes."

"Did she."

"No need to be snide," said Harry, almost snappishly. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Sorry, sir. I just meant that she practically lectured me about it."

"And did nothing that she had to say strike you as worthwhile?"

That question had Harry gulping down some beer. "Yeah, some," he grudgingly admitted. "We talked about how maybe I kind of resented this whole romance thing because I feel like we should all be a bit more serious. About . . . er . . ." Conscious of the Muggles all around, Harry lowered his voice. "You know, things of interest to the old crowd."

"Ah."

"God, you're worse than Marsha sometimes, you know that?" Harry blew out a breath that made his fringe fly up, for a second. "She goes on with 'Ah' and 'Mmm-hmm' and 'I see' sometimes, just to make me talk things out more."

"Does she."

"Oh, stop it," said Harry, laughing that time. "You don't have to prod me into talking, you know. You can just ask. So anyway, yeah, we talked about that a bit, and how I love the swimming lessons but almost feel guilty taking time out for them, when I could be working on more important things, and how maybe that's all part of why I want Draco to stop being such a blind git about Rhiannon. 'Cause then he'd give up on this romance deal, see? Though for the record, I would also like to point out that I really do think he's on the rebound and likely to get his heart broken. Again."

Snape took a moment to drink down half his stout, then said in a serious voice, "You know, Harry, your being able to avoid death by drowning is actually quite important."

Harry's laugh that time was a little nervous. "Well, sure. I didn't mean--"

"You did. You constantly discount your own worth except as it relates to helping others."

No doubt about it, the man was worse than Marsha. She sometimes had startling insights to share, too, but they were never delivered so ruthlessly.

"Well, I know I can't help anybody if I'm dead--"

"Merlin preserve me, you're missing the point again," said Snape, sighing as he leaned forward. "You're more than a strategic asset, you idiot child!"

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes!" Harry lowered his voice when he noticed a couple of heads turning at his outburst. "It's just hard for me. You don't know. No offence, but no matter how angry you are with my aunt and uncle, you can't know what it's like to be me. I was always, always told how worthless I was and then right at the same time I finally got my first friends ever, people were falling all over themselves just hearing my name. Even Ron did, at first, though I know that's not why he became my friend. And Draco . . ." Harry swallowed, hating the memory. He loved Draco, but there was no denying that even now he was still a bit of a stuck-up supercilious prat. "He tried to get me to ditch Ron for him, did you know that? Before we were ever sorted. All because of my name."

"Draco mentioned that to me, months ago."

"Oh." Harry didn't know why that surprised him; it wasn't like Severus and Draco had never had long talks of their own, after all. "Um, what did he say about it?"

Snape looked like he was about to disclose something rather significant, but then he shook his head. "I think you'd better broach the topic with him yourself, if you wish to know."

"Oh, all right." Their meals came then, a welcome distraction. Harry took one bite and reached for the salt and pepper. Hogwarts cooking had probably spoiled him. Though this wasn't bad.

He finished his drink, a bit bemused at the way Snape took charge of the conversation while they ate. Not that he was complaining. He often thought that he didn't know enough about his father, so it was a welcome change to listen to him tell a few stories about his own school days. Edited, of course, because of their surroundings, but Harry could read between the lines.

Finally, though, it was past half-nine, almost time to go meet Draco, and Harry knew they'd better get back on track. He wasn't sure why Snape hadn't brought the subject of Rhiannon Miller up again. Perhaps he thought they'd settled things? Or maybe, Harry realised with a small pang, he believed Harry was refusing the favour he'd been asked.

"So, Rhiannon," Harry said, the moment there was a lull in Snape's wry comments about his "botany" class back at school. "I guess you don't want me to tell Draco what we found out."

"It's more a case of it being fairly pointless. He'd find a way to explain the alarm not sounding."

True, Harry though, remembering his brother's ridiculous insistence that Rhiannon was sending him coded messages based on the telly. It was pretty difficult to imagine anyone being more in denial than that.

"We're going to tell him about the wires, though, aren't we?"

Snape raised his chin a fraction. "Are you proposing otherwise? You, the advocate of fewer secrets in the family?"

"No, I wasn't suggesting otherwise. It's just that Draco's clever enough to realise on his own that the wires could prove or disprove his wild ideas. So I wondered how he was going to explain it all away, that's all."

"He'll doubtless find a way."

"Yeah," said Harry, glum. "So then, the whole wire thing, it wasn't partly to catch her out." For a little while there, he'd wondered. "That goes without saying, I suppose."

Snape gave him a look as though to indicate that if it went without saying, Harry shouldn't have said it.

"Fine. I'll let him make an arse of himself," Harry finally said. "He's going to feel like we were laughing up our sleeves, though, when he finally figures out what I've known all along."

"On the contrary, you've made your opinion only too plain."

Harry put his hands in his lap so Snape wouldn't see them clench with frustration. "Yeah? Well if you agree with me, then why did you never make that plain, eh?"

"Because I know Draco. If he feels I'm denying him this, his heart's desire, it will only make the young lady all the more attractive to him. In that, he's no different from any other young man his age."

Yeah, Snape had mentioned something like that already, Harry realised. "So you mean you don't think it's a good idea, then, and that's why you don't want to drive them together?"

Snape's hair swayed as he shook his head. "I've no notion if this is a good idea or not. It may well end up hurting Draco terribly, as you surmise. What I do know is that as much as I'd like to be a positive influence on my sons, I've no wish at all to influence their romantic lives. I've seen, all too clearly, the devastation that that sort of meddling can produce."

Harry suddenly knew, without a doubt, that his father was talking about his own childhood. About Hostilian, and . . . with a start, Harry realised that he didn't even know what Snape's mother had been named. Well, one thing was certain. He did know better than to pry into it. Snape would tell him things like that in his own time. Which might well be never, but Harry was willing to accept that.

Some of the other things his father had said, though . . . those were harder to accept. "So you're just going to stay our of our love-lives, no matter what?" he asked, incredulous. "What if I develop a crush on some . . . er--"

He lifted his eyes and willed Snape to read the words in them. Death Eater.

"I can't imagine that."

Good point. "Draco, then."

"To be honest, I can't imagine that, either." Snape's voice went hard. "Don't tell me that you still don't trust him."

"Just making a point."

"I have to deal with situations as they arise," said Snape tightly. "My judgment as to Rhiannon Miller is that I'd be wisest to let Draco make his own decisions. Including, even, wilful ignorance if he so wishes."

"I guess maybe it bothers me because it's so disgusting, this insistence that she must be something she's not." Harry said after a long pause. "It shows just how awful Draco can be, y'know? There's nothing wrong with . . . um, regular folk."

"Something Draco will learn or not, as he chooses."

"Ha. Not with you around, he won't," Harry blurted. "You aren't as bad as him, but you do say things sometimes. Like how they couldn't write to the level of the average student, things like that."

"That comment was in reference to a particularly badly-written text on leukaemia, and you know it."

Snape's voice was tight, but Harry didn't let that bother him. "You do throw scorn about, though, from time to time. Not as much as Draco, not even close, but he looks up to you, and the example you're setting . . . um, could be better."

Snape abruptly drained his mug. "So you've said before. I'll keep your concerns in mind."

Harry thought that could have gone a whole lot worse. The exchange left him feeling generous. "And I won't try to convince Draco anything about Rhiannon," he said, thinking that Marsha had had it right. "Let him make his own mistakes, all right. Though . . . um, when he does find out can you make sure he doesn't do anything drastic?"

"Such as?"

Harry glanced around the interior of the pub, wanting to use words like hex and oblivion. "Mayhem."

"Oh, I doubt his impulse control is as abysmal as that."

Marsha had said something similar, but Harry still wasn't reassured. "Yeah, well, just keep an eye out, is all I'm saying."

"Are you somehow under the impression that I don't do that already? For both of you?"

"I know you do," Harry said quietly. The thought really gave him pause. Snape must think that Draco really needed this romance-fantasy he had going. Needed a break, after the kind of year he'd had. Almost as bad as Harry's own. Or perhaps worse, in some ways. It came to him then that maybe this was one of those times when negotiation wasn't going to work. Snape had warned him that there would be times like that, when Harry would have to accept Snape's decisions as final. All part of having a father.

Snape suddenly glanced over Harry's shoulder. "It's almost gone ten."

Harry jumped up, his chair clattering, and followed his father out of the pub.

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

"And she had a full course of Italian and French and German," Draco was chattering as they all Apparated back to Devon. "Not just the basics you'd need to sing parts, though she did say more than once that she wished her school had had a less rigorous programme in maths and sciences." Draco glanced almost apologetically at Snape. "After what Harry said at the pool, she thinks you're a science teacher. She really hates science."

"Did you tell her that 'science' is your favourite subject?" asked Harry.

Huh. Snape gave him a stern look at that. Harry hadn't thought it had been out of line, as questions went.

"I was more interested in learning about her," Draco said, his voice gone lofty. "And before you go on again about how her education must make her a Muggle, I'll have you know that she never had any way to know she was a witch, all right?"

Harry glanced at his father to see how he was taking this new delusion. No reaction other than a slight warning glance at Harry.

Draco was warming to his theme. "After all, you didn't know, did you? And all the accidental magic children do, well, hers was probably expressing itself mostly through her voice talent."

Harry had to admit, all that sounded a lot less fantastical than Draco's Bewitched nonsense. "So she's a Muggleborn, you think?" he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral. "I mean, if there was nobody around to explain things to her?"

To Harry's surprise, Draco appeared to chew on that for a short while. "Hmm. That is actually possible, I suppose. But I don't think so, no. She's got a patrician look about her that just screams pureblood to me. I really do think that her family's been in hiding since the Middle Ages." His voice dropped to a more thoughtful tone. "You know, if it's a family trait for their repressed magic to manifest itself in song. . . Hmm. If they dropped out of wizarding society so long ago, and used spells to tamp down their magic so that Muggles would never suspect them, they might not have realised for several generations that they're wizards and witches." Draco smiled, looking complacent. "I bet Rhiannon's aunt married that Muggle man because she didn't know any better."

Harry sighed, but tried to make sure his voice didn't come out critically. "So when you said that Rhiannon was talking about her parents being a different 'sort' from her uncle, she meant . . . ?"

"Oh, I read that wrong," Draco admitted, looking as though nothing in the world could dampen his spirits. He flicked his wand to light the fire, and waved the filled tea kettle over to hang above the flames, instead of whinging, as he usually did, that "somebody" should make some tea. "She doesn't know she's magical so that wasn't what she was talking about. But we chatted quite a bit over our supper--I took her out after her rehearsal, did I mention?"

Harry was very careful to keep his expression blank.

"And she talked about her family quite a lot," Draco went on without missing a beat. Which said something significant, as he was usually more observant. "Her parents are these artistic, Bohemian types. Which perhaps goes along with them being so poor, I don't know. That's right," he said, suddenly scowling. "Her parents are short of funds. You don't need to act like it's a problem for you, Harry."

Realising that his mouth had fallen open, Harry shut it. But the question just wouldn't go unasked. "You don't mind?"

"No," said Draco shortly. "As I was saying, her parents and her uncle don't get on well. They're artists -- ha, potters, Harry, though her mother sang quite a lot when she was younger -- and the way Rhiannon tells it, the uncle distrusts anybody whose efforts aren't grounded in commerce. That's why Rhiannon has to work at the pool! Can you believe it? He doesn't even need the help, but he thinks that her time is wasted--wasted!--on opera, so he only agreed to let her room with them this summer if she quote, learned to work a real job. And she had to room with them if she wanted to participate in the theatre project Adrian runs, since her parents can't afford to put her up in Exeter."

Harry felt winded just listening to all that. Draco just kept on, too, Rhiannon this, Rhiannon that, talking so constantly that Harry could hardly get a word in edgewise. It was a relief when the kettle whistled and Draco waved it over to pour boiling water into the teapot he'd laid out as he'd talked. For one minute, as Draco dug tea boxes out of a crate, he stopped going on about Rhiannon.

"Earl Grey," said Severus, coming to the table to join them. "All right with you two?"

Harry got the shortbread, and sat watching as Draco set the tea to steep. Then he decided it was time his brother knew. Some tiny part of him was hoping that news of the trip wires would bring his brother to his senses, but Harry tried not to let that show. He owed Snape that much.

"Er . . . so you never asked what Dad and I were doing all evening."

Draco sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. "Something interesting?"

"Advantageous for you, I should say," Snape answered, reaching for a wedge of shortbread. "Harry and I placed some protections across Exeter. If witches or wizards other than ourselves appear in the city, we'll be alerted. Hence, you'll be able to see the young lady alone more."

Draco blinked. "I . . . I don't know what to say. Thank you, Severus."

"That's what not to say," joked Harry. "I helped too, don't forget."

"Yeah, well you I know I can thank," said Draco, shaking his head. "Though I'm not sure why you'd want to help me date Rhiannon, considering how much we disagree about her."

"Oh, I take back everything I said," said Harry airily, waving an arm as if he didn't have a care in the world. Then, afraid he might be overdoing it, he picked up the teapot to pour as he kept talking. "Maybe you're right and her family has been in hiding so long they've forgotten everything about themselves. No telling, really. Though it is a bit odd that none of them ever got a Hogwarts letter."

Draco was staring, probably wondering if Harry was having him on, or if he'd really changed his mind about Rhiannon. Well, Harry wasn't the one here who was such a bad liar, most times. After a moment, Draco seemed to remember the point Harry had just brought up. "Oh. Yes, the missing Hogwarts letters. More than one, now. Hmm. Must have been a powerful charm they hid behind, way back."

"Yes, must have been," said Harry, deadpan.

He got a suspicious glance for that. And another warning glance from Snape. "Anyway," he quickly added, "if you want to date her you ought to date her, right? Doesn't much matter what I say, as long as she's not a Death Eater or something."

Draco looked like he might gag. "Don't say things like that, Harry. Don't you know it makes me ill to remember how stuck I was on Pansy? I mean, I thought she wanted out, but she didn't, which means when I was kissing her I was kissing somebody who wanted to kill you, and if you don't think that makes me sick then you're just a tosser, aren't you?"

Oh. This rebound thing was even worse than Harry had thought. It was more than Draco merely wanting to be in love. Now it seemed like what he wanted most was to replace Pansy with her exact opposite. Blond hair instead of dark. Tall instead of plump. And most significant of all, a Muggle instead of a witch.

No wonder he'd fallen for her so hard and fast. He was just trying to get away from his memories of Pansy. As far away as possible.

And he didn't even know it.

Harry felt torn apart. Truth to tell, he was more worried than ever, now. He wanted to shake Draco and ask him what he thought he was doing. Or better yet, shake him and tell him what he was doing.

But he'd just promised Severus that he'd stay out of it. That he'd let Draco make his own mistakes.

Harry's stomach started to ache. Draco was going to get horribly hurt, he just knew it. Harry wanted to save him from that.

But his saving-people thing wasn't always the best trait to indulge. He and Snape had just discussed that, and even if they hadn't, what had happened with Sirius was proof enough of it.

"No, I don't think you want to get involved with Death Eaters," he said weakly, aware after the fact what a horrible thing that had been to say, even in jest. "I just meant that your love life is your business, that's all. Sorry."

Draco still looked a bit put out. He spent a moment drinking his tea. "Hmph. Well, don't worry, Potter. I'll still invite you to the wedding."

Harry tried to smile, but couldn't really manage it when he felt his insides knotting up. One date, and Draco was talking weddings. Though perhaps he'd meant that a little sarcastically. Or facetiously. Whatever.

"I thought you'd be interested in the protection spells," he finally said.

Draco shrugged. "It sounded like Severus meant Avisato Alambrum. Lucius used those from time to time. Though of course as they have to be renewed every full moon, they aren't too useful for constructing permanent wards. Plus, they don't work well if the caster uses a lot of other magic around them, so they're pointless around one's own home . . . what?"

"You remind me of Hermione."

Draco made a slight face, but at least it was only a slight one. "I sounded like an encyclopaedia, just then?"

"Well, like you'd lived with this stuff all your life, maybe."

"And she gets all her knowledge from books," said Draco, sounding like he liked things that way. He probably thought it gave him an edge . . . even if he knew full well that Hermione's marks were often better than his own.

Harry was a little surprised that Draco hadn't already picked up on the main point, so he decided to prod him, just a little. "Er . . . you know, Dad arranged for the wires not to sound an alarm for any of us, but I guess we ought to add Rhiannon to that, you think? Otherwise, we might start hearing alarms all the time. Or . . . " Harry turned to his father and tried to act as though they hadn't already discussed all this. "She should have tripped them already, you think? We did really cover Exeter--"

Draco laughed, actually laughed. "You don't know how they work, do you, Harry? Wands trip the wires, not witches and wizards themselves. Now, if you think that a young lady who's never had any idea that she's a witch will be carrying a wand about. . ."

Shite. Now that Harry thought about it, Snape had in fact mentioned wands being a focus of the spell.

"Oh." He forced a bright smile to his face. "Well, that's good, then. I didn't want to get a headache from the clanging. Um . . . will she be getting a wand soon, do you think? We'll have to add her to the spell then, I suppose. I mean, if she's a witch. I'm not saying I know for sure."

Draco smiled too, then, just as brightly as Harry had. "Well, that's better. How could you know, really? You don't have a feel for these things, as I have. Raised the way you were . . . oh, but I wanted to talk to you about that, about what it's like to be a wizard child and not know it. I'm trying to figure out the best way to ease Rhiannon into understanding what she really is. She . . ." Draco lowered his voice, sounding almost embarrassed. "She doesn't even believe in magic."

Oh, God. Harry felt even sicker, hearing that. "You don't mean she's like the Dursleys and thinks it's evil, do you?"

"Oh, no." Draco's teeth glinted. "She just doesn't think it's real, and if I just come right out and claim it is, she'll think I've gone 'round the twist."

Harry cleared his throat. "Oh. Er . . . well, I found out it was real when Hagrid showed up with my letter. That probably wasn't the best way. Not sure what to tell you."

Draco shrugged. "Just talking over what it was like for you at Muggle school and such would probably help me. She went to regular schools before she entered Chatham. Oh, that's the music academy she just finished at."

"Sure. I'll tell you what I can," said Harry, mostly because he wanted to please Snape by appearing supportive. Then he remembered Hermione putting on a show of support about the adoption, when she really didn't mean it at all, and he felt ashamed of himself. "Yeah. I can explain a bunch of Muggle stuff to you," he added, trying for more sincerity, that time.

"Good." Draco rubbed his hands together. "I wish now I'd taken some Muggle studies, but who could have guessed I'd ever need it, right? Never thought I'd be in love with a pureborn witch who thinks like a Muggle."

Harry cast their father a desperate glance, but only received a bland expression in return. Clearly, Snape was going to let Draco make his own mistakes. And he expected Harry to do the same.

"About the wires," Draco went on, his voice a little tentative, that time. "I appreciate that, Severus. Um, gold, right? That's quite an outlay so do you think . . . I mean, can I--"

"No," said Snape, the word short and clipped.

"But I wouldn't miss the money and I'm sure it had to have made a dent in your--"

"Do you want to fund your own Christmas present, too?" asked Snape, cuttingly.

"Give it up," said Harry, remembering when Snape had asked him that same thing. "He likes being our dad, Draco. He likes spending money on us. You should have heard him when I offered to pay for my own adoption."

Now Draco was the one gaping. "You didn't. That's idiotic."

"I was mixed-up."

"Yes, you were," said Draco, looking him over. Harry wondered if he was thinking about the vault key that Harry had given Snape. But perhaps that wasn't on his mind at all. "Well, you're better now, I suppose."

You're not, thought Harry. You're as mixed-up as they come. But all he said was, "Come on, then. I'll tell you about Muggle schools, and try to think of all the basic things Rhiannon would expect you to know."

The End.


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