Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Doubles

Draco kept ignoring Harry even after they had reached Marsha Goode's office, but strangely enough, he sifted through a stack of magazines and then started reading one, his eyes intent as he turned page after page. Weird, especially since he'd complained about the Mugglishness of their content, before. More than once, in fact.

Now, it seemed like he couldn't get enough of them.

Snape sat down, a disgruntled look on his face, and drew his wand to conjure a vial of something pink and foamy. With a glower directed at Harry and Draco both--which Harry thought was most unfair, in the circumstances--Snape downed the potion and tucked the vial into a jacket pocket.

Not long after, Marsha bustled into the waiting area. "I'm very sorry," she said, checking her watch, "but tonight I'm afraid I'll only have time for one session. I've been asked to consult on a difficult case in hospital, later this evening."

She looked at them a bit expectantly, then.

Harry was the first to realise that she wanted them to decide who would get the session. "Oh, I insist on giving up my place to Draco," he said, sitting back. "The week he's had, I'm sure he needs loads of therapy!"

"Oh, no you don't. You take the session. You need it a lot more!"

"I do not! I wasn't the one insulting Dudley with every breath!"

"No, you spent your time staring at your fork! At those sharp tines!"

"That's because I was seriously considering throwing it at you!"

Snape's deep voice cut across the argument. "I do believe a double session might be a good idea, at this point. See if you can get them to remember that they're brothers." That shut Draco up, Harry saw. But of course, it shut him up as well. "Dr Goode, I take it you have no objection if I step out for an hour? I could do with a pint of something strong."

Harry's jaw dropped open. Snape had never left during one of their sessions before! He always stayed right there in the waiting room.

"Good show, Harry," Draco snarled, the minute the door had closed behind Snape. "You're driving Dad to drink!"

"Oh, like I was the one who just ruined a perfectly good dinner out--"

"Come through, please," said Marsha. "I haven't time to waste, this evening."

Inside her office, Harry took the chair nearest the window and wasn't surprised when Draco took the one furthest away from it. "None of that," said Marsha, shaking her head. "Both of you, on the sofa. Now, what seems to be the matter?"

Instead of answering, Harry opened the drawer where she kept the cinnamon gum he chewed during sessions, and helped himself. Not that he probably needed the almost painful tang of it in his mouth just now; he hadn't been feeling like scratching his arms.

Well, not much.

He did think, however, that if he didn't do something he might give in to temptation and hit Draco. The gum helped him hold down that instinct, though Harry couldn't help but wonder, with dark humour, about the claim that his instincts were generally good.

"The problem?" asked Marsha again, glancing pointedly at the two of them.

"Draco's annoyed that he had to go out to dinner with his family when he wanted to be with Rhiannon, instead."

"Harry's annoyed that somebody was honest, for once, with his cousin."

Marsha leaned forward in her chair, her expression fierce with resolve. "I don't want to hear anything else in that vein. You can talk about your own feelings. You don't ascribe feelings to any other person. Is that clear?"

Yeah, yeah, it was clear. Harry had heard it all before. "All right, fine. I feel that Draco would rather have been with his girlfriend, and was determined to make sure we all knew it!"

"Not true," snapped Draco. "I was perfectly happy to let Rhiannon rehearse tonight. I care about her career, in case it's escaped your notice. I wasn't the one who started things!"

Harry gaped. "What do you call throwing soda in Piers' face?"

"He deserved a lot worse for the way he was talking to you!"

"And what did Dudley do to deserve being called fat, stupid, and lazy?"

"Well, he is all those things, Harry! The only mystery is why you don't see it for yourself!"

"All you see, all you ever see, about anyone, is a bloodline! And Dudley's doesn't measure up!"

"You're damn straight it doesn't."

At that moment, Harry wondered how he ever, ever could have believed that Draco Malfoy could change. And he was thinking Malfoy, not Snape. This, all this . . . it was pure Malfoy. "And to think, Dad had this bizarre idea that dating Rhiannon might actually be a good thing, might make you less of a total racist, but you're ten times worse than before! You used to be able to talk to Dudley without dumping crap all over him, at least."

Draco jerked himself backwards, much as if he'd just been slapped. His eyes went a stormy grey. "You think my problem with him is that he's a Muggle?"

"Well, it's either that or you're having the painters in!"

"What?"

Dr Goode cleared her throat. "That's a reference to a young lady's time of the month, Draco."

Draco clenched his jaw even as a wave of colour swept into his face. "Calling me a girl, are you?"

"No, he's not," said Marsha, holding up a hand. "And we're not going to allow this to degenerate into insults. What Harry was doing, somewhat ineffectually, was expressing frustration with your behaviour. Is that correct, Harry?"

Harry gave a stiff nod and bit down hard on his gum.

"Now, Draco, perhaps you could answer Harry's question."

Draco's forehead furrowed. "Question?"

"Why you decided to insult Harry's cousin. You intimated that something set you off?"

Draco scowled. "Well, I wasn't too happy being forced to get in one of those death-traps after I'd just spent ten minutes watching them crash into each other."

Oh . . . yeah, that news programme had included some footage of a collision on the M5. Not ten minutes of it, though. "You're seriously going to claim that you were terrified of the car, and that's the cause of all this?" Harry's nostrils flared. "I think you'd better give up Quidditch, then. It's a hell of a lot more dangerous than a short ride through Surrey."

"Scared, Potter? You don't want the competition? I'm going to outfly you so hard next year, you'll wake up wondering what year it is!"

"You wish!"

Marsha suddenly got up and yanked open a cabinet door. Fetching something out, she whirled on a heel and tossed it to Harry. He found himself holding what looked like a cylindrical pillow mounted on a padded stick. Another one went flying through the air towards Draco. "Go on," said Marsha, her hands planted on her hips. "Get it out of your systems! I might not have mentioned this yet, but I don't have time for this tonight, and I'm not about to send you back to your father still squabbling like four year-olds. Go on, then, hit each other!"

Immediately ashamed, Harry tossed his pillow-thing onto the coffee table in front of the sofa.

It didn't help his mood that in the same instant, Draco used his to bonk Harry over the head. Hard.

"Ow! You prat!"

Draco hurriedly dropped his to one side, his face flaming. "Er . . . sorry."

"Are you ready to talk like adults?" Her tone spoke volumes. Finally . . . that was what she meant.

"Yes," said Harry, nodding.

"Yes," said Draco, a good deal more grudgingly, in Harry's view.

"Good," said the doctor, sitting back down. "So, Draco. It was your first time in a car, I take it? And it bothered you so very much?"

Draco shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Well, it didn't help, but I was already pretty annoyed by then."

Harry resisted an impulse to say, Yeah, I noticed. "Piers being a jerk isn't anything to do with Dudley."

Draco closed his eyes then, looking strangely like he was praying. For patience, maybe. "I'm not talking about Piers. You obviously can't stand him, so enough said. It's just . . . I don't understand why you can stand your cousin. He's a horrible person!"

"Because he's a Muggle!"

"No, not because he's a Muggle! I'm in love with a Muggle, Harry. That is not what I meant."

"Oh, that explains why you mentioned breeding."

Draco's eyes snapped open. "I was talking about his parents when I said that, not Muggles in general. Those fucking Dursleys and what they did to you--" Draco slouched down a little. "Their son was part of it. He used to watch his parents lock you in that cupboard, watch them starve you, Harry. Doesn't that bother you?"

Harry clenched his fists. "That wasn't Dudley's fault."

"It's his fault he didn't sneak you some food. He could have. You know he could have. You were treated like nothing growing up, and he was a part of it. Why the hell are you going to so much trouble to include him in your life?"

Harry's mouth went dry, gum or no gum. "That's why you were so upset with Dudley, tonight? Because of me?"

Draco's jaw clenched for a moment. "I know what it's like when someone just stands by and watches something awful going on, Harry. A wizard's beating, for example!"

Oh . . . no wonder Draco was so upset. This wasn't only about Harry, it was about Draco, too. About how he felt about his mother, who had done nothing to stop Lucius' vicious idea of discipline. Who had renounced her parental rights when Lucius had decided Draco was unfit to remain his son . . .

But the two situations were hardly parallel. "Come on, Draco. Dudley was just a child. What was he going to do to stop his parents?"

"Oh, innocent of all of it, was he?" Draco's lips twisted. "I told you, didn't I, that word gets around? That excuse for a cousin used to beat you up and laugh about it!"

Harry spat his gum out into the wrapper and dropped it in the wastepaper basket next to the sofa. "Yeah, he did. But that was before the Dementor attack--"

"You should have let them have him."

"That's a terrible thing to say."

"What about him, still mocking your parents even now, calling your father an unemployed drunk to your face tonight? He's no different from his parents!"

"Yes, he is," said Harry firmly. "Maybe not before, but he is, now. Dudley didn't know that James Potter wasn't everything he'd heard before. He couldn't have known."

"Please," scathed Draco. "Even I knew."

"Draco, you're being quite irrational," said Marsha, who had sat quietly for the last few minutes, apparently content to let Harry and Draco work things out. "You were in a position to know the basic facts about Harry's birth father. Even before Harry survived the Killing Curse as an infant, the Potter family was known and respected. Dudley had no access to any of this information, so of course he believed what his family told him on the matter."

"Still doesn't make him a pleasant person," muttered Draco, turning his face away.

Marsha made him turn back, using nothing but the power of her gentle voice. "You're intelligent enough to know that a single remark, said in innocence, wasn't the real reason you became annoyed with Dudley, tonight. There were other factors at work, I'm sure. The question is, can you identify them, Draco?"

Harry had a sudden thought. "Oh! You didn't like me offering him money, is that it, Draco? You thought that really made him family?"

"Harry," chided Marsha. "It's really not as helpful if you identify Draco's issues for him. You know that."

Harry did; Marsha always made them work out things for themselves.

Draco made a derisive noise. "Oh, you can shower your gold wherever you want, Harry. I don't care. And I knew already that you considered him family. He doesn't deserve it, that's all."

Neither did Draco, if what Harry judged by was behaviour from years earlier. Remembering what Marsha had just said, though, Harry didn't point that out. "Then why were you so much nicer to him, before today?"

"You know why! You didn't trust me and I was trying to change that!"

Defensive, thought Harry, sure there was something else going on. He didn't know what, though. "Yeah, I understand that. But that doesn't explain why you were nice to him two weeks ago, you know."

"A lot can change in two weeks," said Draco, still sounding awfully defensive.

"What has changed, then, Draco?" prompted Marsha. "Think about it, please."

It looked like it took Draco a moment to frame his thoughts. "Um . . . hmm. I guess . . ." He suddenly sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Two weeks ago I thought they were all the same. You know? I didn't like the way Dudley used to treat Harry, but I figured all Muggles were like that and he couldn't really help it."

"And now?" asked Marsha, her voice still thrumming with kindness.

Draco gave a wry smile. "We haven't talked since I found out Rhiannon was a Muggle, or you wouldn't need to ask." He turned to Harry. "They're not all like your family was, Harry, but I didn't know that until just a few days ago. And . . . and . . . don't you see? That just makes the Dursleys a lot worse, as far as I'm concerned. What they did . . . it wasn't because all Muggles detest magic. It was because they were terrible people, Dudley right along with them. You deserved better than that."

Oh, God. Draco had been trying to defend him, then. From abuse and insults buried in the past, from things that couldn't possibly be changed now. Maybe sheer frustration with that very fact explained why he'd been rude beyond belief.

Harry smiled, too, just as wryly. "What am I supposed to say, thanks? I guess your heart was in the right place . . . but your head was still stuck up your arse, Draco. It doesn't help now to blame Dudley for things that happened when he was a different person, when he was a child. He believed what he was taught." Harry took a deep breath. "Er . . . just like you did, you know."

Draco's eyes glittered almost silver for an instant. "Sometimes, I have a hard time believing you've forgiven me, too."

"Then you ought to be glad to see me forgiving Dudley. It proves I can."

"It proves . . ." Draco's throat muscles convulsed. "Harry, all it proves is that you ought to be angry with us both."

"Don't worry, I was. But I got over it." Harry picked up his pillow-thing again, and gave Draco a very gentle tap across both his legs. "About time you did, too."

Draco gave a stiff nod and met Harry's gaze for only a moment. Then, he turned his face away, his profile looking chiselled from stone.

Hmm . . . probably best not to say what he was thinking, Harry decided. Strange how things turned out, though. Once, Harry would have thought that Draco and Dudley had nothing in common except their dislike of snakes. Now, he could see that the two were similar in much more profound ways. Both taught to hate what was different, growing up. Both finding their own way out of that, and in the same manner, too. Through soul-shattering fear. Dudley, with the Dementors, and Draco, by learning that his original course could only lead to slavery or death.

"Harry, perhaps you could let me finish the hour with Draco, alone," said Marsha calmly.

"Sure." Harry got up, giving Draco one last smile. "Sorry about the painters comment."

Draco gave a strangled laugh, and didn't reply.

Snape wasn't in the waiting room when Harry went out, but he came in just a few minutes later. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah." Harry didn't think it was right for him to say much more than that about why Draco had been so antagonistic towards Dudley. If Draco wanted his father to know about it, he could bring it up for himself. "Um, Draco's just finishing up. How was the pint?"

"I didn't have one. I took a long walk, instead."

"Maybe we can all go for one afterwards."

"You think you and your brother deserve a reward after the appalling evening I've had?"

Harry felt bad, then. Not that he'd done so very much to ruin the evening, compared to Draco, but he could have figured out sooner why Draco had such a bee up his arse. Or, perhaps he couldn't have. The whole thing was slightly twisted. What had looked like increased contempt for Muggles had turned out to be the exact opposite. No . . . nobody could have fathomed that one on their own.

"Maybe you could reward us for talking it out," Harry said. "We did, you know. We're fine, now."

Snape gave him a close look, and then shrugged. "Very well. I passed by a pub, not far from here. We can go there, assuming you can bear the fumes I saw billowing out the door. They don't bother me, of course."

Fumes? Oh, he probably meant smoke. Harry smiled, then picked up a magazine to read while they waited for Draco.

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A polite knock announced Hermione's arrival on Thursday afternoon.

Harry was the first to the door. "We don't get a lot of visitors, you know," he said, grinning. "And you are expected."

"I still thought I ought to knock."

Draco glanced up from the table where he and Severus had a book open sideways so both of them could see it as they scratched out notes on parchment. "Hallo, Hermione."

"Hallo. Good afternoon, Professor Snape." Hermione came closer, no doubt lured by the book. "Ethics? Really?"

"A new required course for all seventh-year students, Miss Granger."

"Do you know yet who will be teaching it, sir?"

"Oh, yes," drawled Snape.

For once, Hermione was a little slow to catch on. First time for everything, Harry thought with a snigger.

"Who, then?"

Draco put his quill down and stared at Hermione, just stared.

Even then, it took her a second more. "Oh, Professor Snape?"

"No, the goat in the Hog's Head!" Draco glared at her. "What's the matter? Don't you think Severus has any ethics?"

"I didn't mean that. I just didn't think he'd ever stop teaching Potions."

"And so I shan't, Miss Granger." Snape stacked his parchments. "It will be a busy year for all concerned."

"Has there been a N.E.W.T. established for ethics, sir?"

Standing, Snape looked down the length of his nose at her. "No, and that's about the only sensible thing the Ministry has done this year, with regard to examinations."

As he stalked off to his bedroom, robes billowing out behind him, Hermione cast a confused glance around. "Did I say something?"

Draco gave his nails a critical glance. "Apart from accusing him of having no sense of morality, you mean?"

"I did not say that!"

Draco laughed, then. "No, you didn't. I was having you on. Though for a moment there you did look like you thought Severus the last person in the world who would be qualified to teach ethics--"

"I just meant that I didn't think he'd leave Potions for it!"

"For someone so clever, she doesn't know what having her on means, does she?" Draco asked Harry.

Hermione laughed too, then, and when Draco grinned at her, she grinned back.

Good to see the two of them getting on, Harry thought. Finally, really getting on, like they were friendly acquaintances, instead of just two people who had decided to avoid fighting because it was bad to have a war zone in your own ranks.

"Well, I'll go get ready. Back in a bit." Draco was almost whistling as he spun on his heel and strolled into his bedroom.

Hermione waited until he'd closed the door, and then turned an astonished gaze on Harry. "Wow. I don't think I've ever seen Draco looking so happy. Well, maybe after Slytherin won the Cup, but when that happened I don't remember thinking that a smile on his face made him seem like a completely different person."

"You want to talk different person? He's practicing chatting up Muggles, now, every chance he gets. And what's more, most of them find him absolutely charming."

Hermione grinned again, then, her eyes sparkling. "I can't wait to meet this Rhiannon. She sounds like she's going to be very, very good for him."

"Whatever you said to him was that. As for Rhiannon . . ." Harry sighed. He didn't want to ruin their evening out the way Draco had ruined the dinner with Dudley, but he did miss having Hermione to talk with. He fetched Sals out of his pocket. "Let's go get her a little sun."

By the time they'd reached the far end of the property, Hermione's eyes were narrowed. She'd obviously read between the lines. "You don't approve of Draco's girlfriend?"

"I didn't say that, exactly."

"Harry, how can you disagree with anything that helps your brother so much? Does she rub you the wrong way, something like that?"

"No, she's really nice. Though she might consider getting to work on time once in a while," added Harry. "It's just, well, you know what happened last year. Don't you think it's a little soon for him to jump back into the water?"

"Interesting analogy."

"Don't you?"

Hermione sighed. "How should I know? All I can say is that if it's good while it lasts, and it's good for him, then you can't ask for much more."

"It's not going to end well. I can tell," Harry insisted. "I knew Pansy was up to no good with those letters, I just knew it, and--"

"You're saying Rhiannon is up to no good, as well?"

"No," said Harry, blowing out a breath. "But, she's not in love with Draco the way he's in love with her, I don't think."

Hermione gave him what looked like a very sympathetic smile. "Oh, Harry. I know you don't want Draco to get hurt, but don't you see? If everybody waited until it was safe to fall in love, nobody would ever fall in love at all."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I know."

Hermione rubbed her hands together as if dismissing that topic. "So, where are we going, then? Draco's letter didn't really say. I hope I'm dressed all right for it."

Harry glanced at her, shrugging. Her light blue dress might be just a little bit . . . well, dressy, but not so much that anybody would probably notice. "Rhiannon's going to cook dinner for us at her house. Her uncle's supposed to be out at some kind of meeting, and we thought we could talk freely, you know . . . better than at a restaurant. But first, Draco wants us to go out and pick a video to rent."

"A video." Hermione goggled, just a little. "Draco."

"Yeah, he got his first glimpse of a telly this week and he went mad for it. Oh, but make sure you tell him at some point that there's no need to get a video, because you're sure there's already lots to watch on all those channels."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason for saying that?"

"Private joke."

Hermione just shook her head. "You two really are brothers."

"You have so many?"

"Believe me, I see plenty of that having dinner at the Burrow."

Harry plucked Sals off the stone wall where she'd been slithering and asked the question that had been preying on his mind all week. "About that mirror book Viktor sent you. How's your Bulgarian translation coming along?"

"Slowly." Hermione sighed. "The translation rod's harder to use than I thought. It only does one line at a time, which doesn't work so well when the sentence is longer than that. Word order gets a bit wonky. I am getting through it, though. I'll owl you as soon as I see anything I think might help you get that mirror working again."

Harry tried not to let his disappointment show. Probably, the Mirror of All Souls was beyond repair. Probably? Hell, definitely. Dumbledore himself had tried and failed. Harry sighed, leaning heavily on the low stone wall marking the edge of the property. Seeing his parents again, talking to them this time, maybe, it shouldn't mean so much to him. He knew it shouldn't. He had Snape, now, and Draco, and even Dudley; he had what he'd always longed for. A family who really cared about him, made up of people who would stand by him, no matter what. Or maybe more importantly, made up of people whom he could love.

What was a reflection in a mirror, compared to all that?

Draco was right, Harry glumly told himself. He shouldn't need anybody else. His parents were gone; he knew that. Seeing them in the Mirror of Erised hadn't changed it, and seeing them in the Mirror of All Souls wouldn't, either. Even if he could find a way to repair it . . . which he obviously couldn't.

Most likely, he should forget the whole idea and stop wanting things he couldn't have. It ought to be easy for him, really. It wasn't so different from his old stance, was it?

I don't ask for things I won't get, he remembered telling Snape.

Trouble was, he'd got over that, some at least. He had someone he could ask, now. For anything, really. Help, advice . . . swimming lessons. Harry smiled, a little wryly.

"Harry?"

Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Harry tried to remember what else he'd meant to tell Hermione. Rhiannon . . . something about Rhiannon . . . Oh, right. "Draco says his girlfriend really wants to talk to more people with magic, she's apparently fascinated with it, but there are some things you'd better not say in front of her--"

"Well, I wasn't planning to start listing off members of the Order!"

"I know you won't talk about the war. I mean, how could she ever begin to understand it? The thing is, though, she can't stand the word Muggle. She thinks it's some kind of slur."

Hermione's gaze grew sharp. "Not too surprising, seeing as she heard it first from Draco." She held up a hand when Harry would have interrupted. "But I understand he's not quite in that same mindset, now. So . . . what is your father going to do tonight, all alone in the house?"

Harry carefully kept a straight face. "No idea, but ten to one he tells Draco and me to be good when we're leaving."

Hermione chuckled. "Yes, that sounds like him. By the way, what was that about the Ministry and the N.E.W.T.s? Snape sounded . . . well, peeved, actually."

No chance of a straight face at that. Harry grimaced. "He got official word this morning that since his curriculum is way too hard, starting this year only the O.W.L. in Potions will be required to apply to the Auror's programme. He's livid."

"I imagine so." Hermione slanted him a glance. "Why are you the one pulling a face?"

"Why do you think? I could drop Potions now, which you know has only been my dream for years, except, I can't, because my father would never agree!"

"You'll be seventeen soon, and able to decide your course programme for yourself--"

Harry gave her a lopsided smile. "Yeah, but if I drop Potions, I'll never hear the end of it. Can you imagine?" He dropped his voice a full octave and tried to narrow his eyes the way Snape sometimes did. "You are trusting the Ministry to make a wise decision for once in their miserable existence, are you?"

Hermione chuckled, which of course only encouraged Harry to keep on.

"Moreover, you idiot child, I do believe that preparing yourself above and beyond the minimum requirements is by no means an unreasonable imposition . . ."

"Well, he wouldn't exactly be wrong, would he?"

"Oh, thanks for the moral support!" Harry took her by the arm. "Come on, let's go see if Draco's ready."

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"So, travel arrangements," said Snape almost as soon as Draco emerged from his room. "My supply of Portkeys is not unlimited, therefore--"

"Oh, I still have the shoelace Draco owled me," said Hermione, fishing it out of a side pocket in her dress. "Here, sir. I didn't need to use the keyword, after all."

"You passed your Apparition test!" said Harry, grinning.

"Yes, just the day before yesterday."

"That certainly simplifies matters," said Snape, nodding slightly as if in congratulations. "Keep the Portkey in case of emergency, Miss Granger, and Harry and Draco will have one as well . . ." He quickly passed them each a candy wrapper. "But try not to use them for any casual return. I will Apparate with all of you out to the usual spot in Exeter, and as Miss Granger is licensed, she can supervise your return whenever your evening has ended."

Draco gave a long-suffering sigh. "We don't need supervision, Severus. You know we're perfectly competent."

"Until you are licensed, you are not legally permitted to Apparate in public without someone who is," Snape insisted, his voice one Harry recognised. The stubborn one.

"Oh, you'll both be seventeen really soon," said Hermione. "Just one more week, right, Harry? And Draco, only a few days after that."

Draco's features tightened. "And how would you know anything at all about my date of birth, I'd like to know?"

Hermione coloured slightly. "Oh. I . . . well, I'm a prefect, you see, and--"

"I was a prefect too! It's not got a thing to do with birthdays."

"Well, you weren't a prefect at year's end, and we started making up a birthday list so next year we could do something nice for each person on the right day. House unity thing!"

Draco stared at Hermione for a moment, then appeared to give up on the whole issue. "Oh. Well, you're mistaken, in any case. I happen to be seventeen already, thank you very much, so don't be surprised if I do a spell or two in front of Rhiannon."

Hermione blinked. "Seventeen already? But I was sure Professor Snape said your birthday was after Harry's, and I know I don't have that one wrong!"

"It's fine, Miss Granger," said Snape. "I may have misspoken."

"You, sir? But--"

"It is fine."

No arguing with the firm tone used that time. Hermione obviously sensed that. "Yes, sir."

Snape glanced once at Hermione. "Ah, one more thing, Miss Granger. Your wand. Let me see it for a moment, if you would." Snape cast something across it, then closed his eyes and waved it several times, conjuring a thin stream of gold that quickly faded into thin air.

"Sir?"

"I've added your wand to the trip wires crossing Exeter."

"Alarm spells to tell us right away if any other witches or wizards are in the area," Harry explained as Snape handed Hermione's wand back to her. "Good thinking, Dad."

Snape gave him a mirthless smile. "I do try. Are all of you quite ready, then? I'll side-along Miss Granger so she learns the location. Harry and Draco, you follow."

A few seconds later, the four of them were standing in the alley in Exeter, which was deserted as usual, due to the subtle keep-away spell Snape had cast earlier that summer. Draco straightened out his clothing even though it was impeccable as usual.

"So," said Snape, regarding the three of them, his dark eyes looking pleased, though in the dim light of the alley, Harry couldn't be sure. "Enjoy your evening, all of you. Harry, Draco, be good."

Hermione chuckled, meeting Harry's sideways glance. Harry knew what she was thinking: Definitely a dad.

It was a good feeling to know that finally, she fully realised and accepted that. And that she was happy for him.

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"Video store's a little far to walk," said Rhiannon a few minutes after they'd arrived at her house. She'd served a round of fresh lemonade she'd made "just for Draco," as she put it, and then they'd all talked for a little while. Harry was pretty impressed that Rhiannon didn't immediately begin pestering everybody with questions about magic. Maybe she really did like Draco for himself, not just that one part.

On the other hand, she beamed with delight when Draco said that Hermione was their friend from school. She obviously knew what that implied, so Harry expected she'd start asking questions sooner or later. Turned out to be sooner, although what she had to say wasn't properly a question.

"So, anyway," said Rhiannon, her hand clasping Draco's as they sat side-by-side on the sofa, "Uncle Stanley said I could borrow the car this evening, but if it's all right, I'd much rather . . . you know. Appear-ate. Er . . . do you all know how?"

"Apparate," corrected Draco. "We do, but it has to be planned a little bit. We can't risk appearing where non-magical people might see us."

"Oh, well." Harry was almost expecting Rhiannon to wheedle, or maybe pout, but she seemed to take it in stride. "Car, then. Shall we?"

At that, Harry gave Hermione a significant glance. She looked a little annoyed, but went ahead and asked, "Why go to a video store at all, though? Isn't there already enough to watch on the telly?"

"Very funny, Harry," growled Draco.

Harry collapsed into laughter. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." And then, to Rhiannon, who was looking perplexed, "That's what Draco said earlier this week when he found out what a telly was."

Rhiannon turned to Draco. "You didn't know what a telly was? But . . . how did you manage to seem so . . . so completely normal when my parents came over?"

Draco shrugged. "I improvised."

"But you know what a telly is," Rhiannon said to Hermione.

"Oh, yes. I didn't realise I was a witch until I was invited to attend Hogwarts. I grew up entirely in the M-- ah, non-magical world."

Harry saw a look of utter relief pass over Draco's face.

"So you've known Draco for five or six years, then?"

"Oh, my, yes," said Hermione, a glint in her eyes that could only be described as mischievous. Or perhaps, even wicked. "I know him quite well, I think. The stories I could tell you! The things he got up to at school!"

Uh-oh. Now Draco looked anything but relieved. Hermione threw a broad smile his way, her eyes positively twinkling, but Harry somehow doubted Draco would read that the way it had been intended.

"I'd love to hear about them." Rhiannon stood up. "How about sitting in the front with me, Hermione? The boys can have the back on the way there."

The girls led the way out of the house, chattering like old friends already.

Draco rose, his legs looking a little bit shaky as he made his way to the door. "Relax," said Harry, laying a hand on his arm for a moment. "You can trust Hermione. She's just having you on, like you did her."

"Wonderful."

"It's not so bad. At least this way, Rhiannon isn't likely to notice that you're afraid of the car."

"I am not afraid," hissed Draco, lifting his chin as he marched straight out of the house and down the steps.

By the time Harry and Draco climbed into the car, Hermione was going on about how Draco had dressed up as a Dementor to frighten Harry, once. She changed some of the relevant details, though. His costume was a simple "demon" now, and she left out the bit about how Harry might have fallen to his death if the trick had worked. She did say, though, with a backwards glance at Draco, "I'm sure he feels quite bad about the whole thing, now."

"Let's talk instead about how you were crying in the bathroom while a troll was loose in the castle," said Draco, crossing his arms.

"Harry, you tell your brother everything?"

"House gossip," corrected Draco.

"Oh, I must hear more about Draco's antics," said Rhiannon, her voice lilting with delight. "The most mischief I've seen him get up to was pretending to be a stage magician."

Hermione turned around in the front seat, grinning. "Really?"

Rhiannon nodded as she signalled and turned a corner.

"And how was his act?"

"Too good, obviously," snapped Draco. "She knew almost at once that play-magic couldn't account for my . . ."

"Tricks?" Hermione sounded just a second or two away from dissolving into laughter.

"Spells," corrected Draco.

"And which spell gave you away, oh Draco the Magnificent?"

"Weather charms--"

"You cast a weather charm and expected her not to realise something was up?"

"It was just a breeze--"

"I was already suspicious before that," added Rhiannon. "On account of the rabbit he made appear inside a hat, while I was wearing it."

At that, Hermione did start laughing out loud. "Didn't you do any research at all, Draco?"

"The books I have available don't cover such esoteric subjects as pretending to do magic," said Draco dryly.

"Good thing," said Rhiannon. "I'm just as glad to know it's real. Now, what else does Draco get up to at this school you all attend? He's a perfect gentleman around me, but I'm sure you must have scads of good stories . . ."

Draco closed his eyes as Hermione began to prattle about how Draco had once tricked Harry into a detention by luring him out to the duel that never was. But then she said he'd more than made up for that by returning Harry's wand to him after it had been stolen.

"And then once, there was this hippogriff named Buckbeak--"

Grimacing, Draco started staring out the window, his expression not easing even when Hermione changed the Buckbeak story to leave out all mention of Draco trying to get the hippogriff executed. She merely said that Draco had been injured.

"Oh, you poor thing!" crooned Rhiannon.

"Yeah, nearly tore my arm off. All because I didn't bow low enough to suit it."

The way Harry remembered it, Draco hadn't bowed at all, but he decided they'd be better off not dredging all that up.

"Well, I'm not at all sure a school should have such dangerous creatures roaming about!"

"Ha. We have to take whole classes devoted to dealing with them," said Draco.

"Well, it's an elective this year, Draco, and I assume you won't be taking it," Harry put in.

"Good, you shouldn't take it, Draco. It's bad enough that you play that broom game that's so dangerous. I'll be worrying about you all year!"

And she doesn't know the half of it, Harry thought, looking out the window. He felt a little guilty about keeping her in the dark about the war with Voldemort and their parts in it. He could tell Draco did as well; he definitely wasn't Occluding when he tried to reassure Rhiannon that he'd be perfectly safe at school.

Luckily, Hermione turned things around by launching into a new tale, but by the time they reached the video store, she seemed to have exhausted her supply of somewhat-edited Draco stories.

"See, not so bad," said Harry under his breath as they got out of the car.

Draco didn't seem to agree; as he awkwardly twisted to exit the back seat, he looked even paler than usual. Maybe that was just from the car ride, though.

"So, what are we in the mood for?" asked Rhiannon as she began to browse up and down the aisles. "Drama, romance, comedy . . . what do you think, Draco?"

He threw her a sardonic look as he caught her hand in his. "My opinion's rather limited, as you might expect."

"Oh . . ." Rhiannon's eyes gleamed. "Right. Um . . . well then . . . horror, maybe? How about this?" She plucked a DVD off a shelf and handed it to Draco.

"Interview with the Vampire," read Draco, one eyebrow raised as he flipped the case over. It didn't take long for him to begin chuckling at what the back said. "Shouldn't this be shelved in comedy? It sounds so utterly ridiculous--"

"I love Rice!"

Draco laughed. "Look, I like rice fine, but this is just rubbish, it is. Mind, I haven't met any vampires personally, but I do know they aren't a thing like this would suggest--"

Harry loudly cleared his throat.

"Oh, right." Draco handed the vampire movie back to Rhiannon, then plucked a few more titles randomly off the shelf. He looked fairly disbelieving as he scanned the cases for information. "People actually want to watch these? They seem awfully . . . dark."

Rhiannon leaned over to see what he had. "Oh, those are, yes. But, it's a bit fun to be scared half to death, now and again, isn't it?"

Draco's fists clenched. "No, it's really not."

When Rhiannon gave him a close look, Draco lightened his tone and affected a laugh. "I don't think I'm in the mood for horror." I get enough of that in real life, Harry could tell he was thinking. "Maybe something more light-hearted, for tonight."

"A date movie." Rhiannon stood on tip-toe and gave Draco a quick peck on the lips. "What a wonderful suggestion."

Feeling like a third wheel by then, Harry moved off to give them some privacy. He wound his way over to Hermione, who had ended up in a section labelled "Classics."

"Anything look good?"

"Hmm, well I was wondering if something to show a little bit of history might be just the thing. The class we had at school left a lot of things out, you know."

Harry did know that, but he didn't much care. Wizard history had been boring enough that he wasn't eager to learn about the Muggle kind. He certainly didn't want to waste the rare chance at a movie on something that might remind him of Binns droning on and on.

"Maybe Casablanca . . ."

Harry glanced at the case, wondering how to put her off the idea. "Um . . . I think we'd better watch something in colour. . ."

"Oh, yes, probably so . . ." Hermione kept musing, picking up one DVD and then another, twisting a strand of hair around one finger as she pondered her choices.

The film they needed, though, stood out to Harry the second he spotted it. "Oh, perfect. We have to rent this one," he said, grabbing The Wizard of Oz. "I told Draco about it once. He and Dad had never even heard of it, can you imagine?"

"And it will give Draco and Rhiannon a context for talking over different perspectives about . . . er, magic tricks."

Trust Hermione to think of that. "Let's go and show them."

Rhiannon giggled when she saw what Harry was bringing. "Oh, precious. Yes, let's. I watched that movie every year growing up, I think. It always made me wonder . . . I'd love to see it again."

Draco made a scoffing noise. "What possible use could this be? Oz isn't even a real place!"

A middle-aged woman halfway down the aisle turned to stare at Draco.

"Shh," said Harry, taking Draco's arm to start him walking toward the registers.

"Oh. Right."

"Let me take it; I have a card here," said Rhiannon. Harry could tell that Draco didn't understand her comment at all, but he let Rhiannon have the movie, and watched the transaction carefully as she rented it.

For the ride home, Rhiannon insisted Draco sit up front with her. She seemed a little shocked when it became obvious he had no idea what a safety belt was for. Even after she explained, Draco didn't want to wear one. Harry had the feeling he didn't want to become trapped in a burning car, something like that. Rhiannon leaned over close to him, lips almost touching, and said just one word: please.

Draco gave her no more argument about buckling up, but he did fumble over the mechanism at first.

When they reached Stanley Tilden's house, Hermione hung back, her fingers on Harry's arm asking him to do the same. By then, she was positively beaming. "She's very nice, just like you said. And they really do seem to get on. If I were you, Harry, I'd relax about it."

Harry murmured something non-committal and headed into the house.

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

Rhiannon's plan for dinner was to make a salad with about a hundred different ingredients, it seemed, a lot of them from the garden behind the house. Thrusting a wicker basket at Harry and Draco, she assigned them both to "go harvesting."

Draco grumbled, once outside, about leaving Hermione in there to gossip about him more.

"She's delighted with this whole thing," said Harry, which probably understated the case. "I don't think you have to worry."

Draco nodded at that, but nonetheless gathered tomatoes, various kinds of lettuce, and herbs in record time.

Rhiannon set Harry to washing everything and assigned Draco to mince some garlic for the dressing as she kept up a running conversation with Hermione, who was slicing rounds of cucumber. By then, the talk had wound around to what it had been like for Hermione, growing up with magic that nobody around her recognised or understood.

Rhiannon started to ask another question, but stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she swung them from Hermione's chopping block to Draco's. "Oh, my," she said, leaning close to each. "That's . . . very precise, both of you. Don't tell me, they offer a cooking course at Hogwarts?"

The garlic and cucumber looked perfectly normal to Harry . . . but then, he'd been watching people make potions for six years.

Draco had obviously understood her confusion, too. "I told you what our father teaches," he said, deftly sliding the garlic onto the knife and then into the bowl she'd laid out for the dressing. "And believe me, when Severus says mince, you mince. You don't chop, dice, cube, slice or purée. You can't, or your potion will come out green instead of purple."

Hermione nodded. "And if you slice, each and every one had better be exactly the same thickness. Force of habit for us, now, I'm afraid. My mother just shakes her head when I cook."

"Well, it's nice that you still help her with things like cooking -- it must seem so boring after …" Her voice trailed off as she stared at the tomatoes Harry had started to slice. They were half mush.

"Yeah, I'm pretty much crap at potions," he admitted, shrugging.

"Oh, you are not!" said Hermione and Draco, almost at the same time.

"Thanks, but I know it's not really my best subject. Dad knows, too. Shame I can't skive off, now that it's not really required."

Rhiannon smiled reassuringly. "You know, my mum is really taken with herbal remedies and such. I don't mind willow bark tea or Echinacea tablets, but from what Draco has said, the ingredients you have to use? Potions class sounds just vile to me. If I were you, I'd definitely skive off."

That comment led to a discussion of wizarding versus Muggle medicine, though of course nobody said the word Muggle in front of Rhiannon. At any rate, the conversation was decided short-lived as Rhiannon said it would spoil her appetite.

They ate the salads with some garlic bread at the kitchen table. Harry realized the reason they were eating so light when Rhiannon pulled out a box of microwave popcorn and a large bag of gummy candies. Predictably, Draco was fascinated by watching the bag popping in the microwave.

Harry found his brother equally fascinated by the movie -- which turned out to be great fun. Draco watched it with wide eyes throughout, and no small amount of humorous commentary about how inaccurate it all was. He even declared that making the wicked witch Slytherin green was a misguided slur against his house.

"Actually, the green colour of the witch and of Emerald City could be interpreted as symbolic of American paper currency as opposed to the gold bricks in …." Harry bonked Hermione on the head with a sofa pillow to shut her up. She glared, but refrained from literary commentary after that.

The funniest moment came when Draco tried to get the last word in. He turned to Hermione with a straight face and said, "There's just one thing that's still confusing me. Maybe you could clear it up for us, Hermione. Just what were the flying monkeys symbolic of?"

She actually opened her mouth to reply before the others burst into laughter. Rhiannon stepped in right away, "Don't mind them Hermione. Personally, I've never been clever enough to figure out symbolism and such." Then she added with a wink, "I just assumed the flying monkeys were evil on account of all that wicked poo-flinging from on high."

Harry nearly choked on his popcorn at that. So much for Draco's image of the lady-like opera diva, but he was laughing as well, which Harry couldn't fault. His brother needed to loosen up a bit. Another reason why he knew he ought to be supportive of this little romance.

The four chatted a while longer, but curfew loomed before long. As they rose to leave, Hermione turned to Rhiannon with a smile. "I don't know if Draco mentioned this particularly, but my parents wanted me to meet you because they had some concerns about passing mail along for a stranger. I'm very happy to have got to know you, though, regardless of all that. And of course I'll tell them I'd really like them to help you and Draco out."

Draco grinned. "Thank you, Hermione."

He picked up Rhiannon's hand, his fingers stroking over hers. "I'll see you at the pool tomorrow when Harry has his lesson. Are you off at three, as usual? Perhaps we could go to the seaside, or . . . is there anything you'd like to do?"

Harry thought Draco was assuming a lot, there. What if Rhiannon had other plans, or didn't want to spend every bit of her free time with him? It seemed, though, that she did.

"Oh, I have a marvellous idea. Can we go and see that children's home you endowed?"

Hermione spoke in tones approaching disbelief. "Draco endowed a children's home?"

"It's for magical children without magic," said Rhiannon, nodding. "And I wish I hadn't walked out that day. I did want to see how they were getting on."

"Why aren't they in their own homes?" asked Hermione, rather darkly.

Harry took her arm. "They've been abandoned, Hermione. Their families didn't want children who weren't magical. You know what some wizards can be like."

"Do I ever," muttered Hermione. But then she looked at Draco, her eyes softening a little, as if to say that she did know he'd made great strides.

"Tomorrow's a bit soon; I think I'd better let them have a little more advance notice than that. Why don't I try to set something up for Saturday?" Draco looked like he'd forgotten completely than anybody else was around. He literally had eyes only for Rhiannon. "When are you through with rehearsal?"

"Should be by one, but you know Adrian."

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'd like to see this home. And Saturday works for me."

Draco turned his head, staring at her for a moment. Then, he shrugged. "Fine. You're invited, then. And Harry? Do you still want to see the inside of the place?"

"You think they'll let us in again, after last time?"

"Oh, please. Darswaithe wouldn't dream of refusing another large pile of gold." Sucking in a breath, Draco turned back to Rhiannon. "Er . . . sorry."

"If your money helps abandoned children, you'll hear no complaint from me," she said crisply.

"Saturday, then. One o'clock. I'll meet you outside the theatre." Turning, Draco gave Harry a look that was probably supposed to mean something. His eyes were glittering silver. Until he rolled them, that was.

"Oh . . ." Blushing a little, Harry began to usher Hermione towards the front door. "I guess we'll wait for you outside, Draco."

It was a bit annoying that they had to wait a full fifteen minutes. Annoying for Harry, that was. And after they'd been considerate enough to walk a little ways down the street, to give Draco a bit of privacy.

Hermione didn't seem perturbed by the long wait. In fact, she sighed with pleasure as she leaned against a tree. "Draco's really quite the romantic, isn't he? I'd never have guessed."

"Just don't mention it to Ron," said Harry wryly.

"Oh, I didn't mean--" Hermione chuckled. "Now you're the one having me on."

"Hey, I've heard girls in Gryffindor go on about him. They think he's . . . what's the word . . ."

"Dishy," said Hermione, giggling. "I've heard them, too."

"That wasn't the word I was looking for."

"Handsome? Striking? Gorgeous?"

Draco was all that, Harry supposed, but he still didn't like hearing Hermione say it. "What are you doing, practising to make Ron jealous?"

"No, just thinking ahead. Those silly girls in the common room . . . I used to be able to tell them that Draco wasn't worth the time of day, where it really counted. I don't think I'll be able to say that, next year. Not after seeing him with Rhiannon."

Harry snorted. "Oh, yeah. Tell them that Draco's worthwhile inside as well as out. I'm sure that'll go over brilliantly with Ron."

"Oh, stop it. He knows I don't like Draco that way." Hermione tilted her head to the side, and gave Harry a careful look. "Speaking of Ron, though, what about that chess match? Do you think your father threw it on purpose?"

"You know, he's quite clever," Harry drawled. "Don't you think he'd have managed to lose, if that was his plan?"

"Oh, I don't think Snape's pride could take actually losing to a student," mused Hermione. "Let alone a Gryffindor."

All true, but . . . "Why would Snape care if Ron won that money or not?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I'm only asking because Ron wanted me to. He's not sure your father played his best. Personally, I think he just can't believe he held his own against Snape."

"Tell him he held his own." Harry grinned. "Tell him he ought to demand a rematch sometime, when there's more time to play."

"I'll do that."

A few minutes later, when Draco came out, Hermione pressed her lips together, a strange look on her face. Harry didn't understand it until she spoke. "You've got a bit of lipstick on your face," she said, pointing. "There. And there."

"And there," added Harry.

"Yes, well, we're in love," said Draco, his voice haughty even if he was blushing a little bit. He wiped away the traces of pink with a handkerchief that seemed to appear from nowhere, but then, Draco's wandwork always had been rather clever. It wasn't until they were much further from the house, looking for a dark, unnoticed spot from which to Disapparate, that he spoke again. "Hermione? Thank you for coming."

"Oh! You're welcome."

"And thank you for . . ."

"Creative editing?" Her voice was teasing.

"Yes, that."

"Don't I get any thanks?"

"No," said Draco, glancing at Harry. "Brothers just get taken for granted, mostly."

"Prat."

"No, I'm not. Anyway, I already did something for you today. I wasn't going to mention it, but I bet Marsha would say I should."

Harry thought back, but couldn't figure out what Draco meant.

"Owled a letter off to Arabella Figg, since Severus said she could get it to your cousin." By moonlight, Harry saw Draco's throat convulse a little, like he was swallowing. "Apology for my remarks the other night. And no, not because I've changed my opinion of what went on in that house. It's just . . . I thought you'd appreciate it."

"I do," said Harry, swallowing himself, then. God, Hermione had been more right than she knew. And Severus as well. Rhiannon was astoundingly good for Draco. Even if it all turned out badly in the end.

Harry nodded mentally, deciding he'd do his best to stop worrying about what the future might hold. All anybody really had was today, after all. One today after the next.

"Ready?" asked Hermione quietly, looking from Harry to Draco and back.

"Yeah," said Harry. He wanted to say more to Draco, but he couldn't seem to quite find the words. But with Hermione there, it wasn't the right time, anyway. He threw Draco a smile, though, knowing that his brother would understand.


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