"That's very good, Harry," said Roger, smiling brightly as Harry reached the wall and neatly flipped himself into a standing position. "I think you've finally got the backstroke licked. Now, four pool lengths of breaststroke, and we'll call it a day. Remember, you need to make your body lift and drop."

"Hate breaststroke," said Harry, panting a little from all the laps he'd already done.

"I know," said Roger. "It's not my favourite, either. But it strengthens muscles that are underused in the other strokes, and if you ever need to swim a really long distance, you may need to turn to it."

"Yeah, all right," ^psaid Harry, pushing off from the wall.

By the time he finished and climbed out of the pool, Rhiannon was over at the bleachers, talking with Snape and Draco. A little surprised, Harry glanced over to the toddlers' pool. Oh, somebody else was covering the lifeguard position. So that was all right, then.

He towelled his hair dry, his feet padding the concrete as he made his way over to where Snape was waiting.

" . . . and my mum and dad are very much looking forward to meeting you," Rhiannon was saying.

Harry gave Draco a questioning look, but Draco gave a tiny shake of his head. Harry took that to mean that no, Rhiannon hadn't mentioned magic to her parents.

Snape obviously had the same concerns. "I'd be pleased to meet them, Miss Miller, but I assume you understand that there can be no real discussion of the school I teach at?"

Rhiannon nodded. "Oh, yes. Draco made that very clear, and I haven't breathed a word about it, of course. They want to meet you because Uncle Stanley mentioned that you had adopted Draco. My parents always wanted to adopt a sister for me, but it never worked out. You're a bit like the road not taken, you see?"

"Yes, I see," murmured Snape, pushing his long hair away from his face. Huh. It was cleaner than usual, even though Snape didn't get in the water during Harry's lessons.

"Do you think that you could come out to Porlock for dinner sometime, then?" Her warm smile included Harry, too. "Perhaps next weekend?"

"I'm sure we shall be delighted," said Snape. "Please advise us of the exact date after you've spoken with your parents again."

"Yes, I will." A shout in the distance had Rhiannon glancing over towards the pool office, where her uncle was glowering. "Back to work, then. I'll see you at one tomorrow, Draco. I'm really looking forward to touring the orphanage properly, this time. 'Bye!"

As soon as Rhiannon was out of hearing range, Draco turned back to Snape. "I know I talked about wanting to go to Porlock, but I didn't put her up to that, honest. The invitation came from her, or her parents--"

Snape shrugged. "I'm sure a trip to Porlock can be arranged. It will merely require some planning."

"Then what has you looking so . . ." Draco lifted his hands. "You're thinking something. I can tell!"

"Something we should discuss at home, I do believe." Snape stood up and began making his way down the concrete steps.

Harry glanced at his brother, but Draco just lifted his shoulders. He obviously didn't know what to make of Snape's last comment, either.

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

"So, what's the matter?" asked Draco, as soon as he'd followed Snape into the cottage in Devon. Harry closed the weathered oak door behind them, but then he decided it was nice enough out to enjoy a little breeze, so he opened up the top half of it again and swung it wide.

"I wouldn't phrase it that way," said Snape, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other. "I do find it interesting, however, that your young lady would want her parents to meet me. Are things becoming serious so soon?"

Draco almost whistled in reply. "Oh, yes and no."

Snape's voice went hard. "Explain yourself at once."

Draco dropped into a chair, too, and grinned like a cat that had lapped up all the cream. "She said she loved me, that's what. Last night, when we were saying good-night."

Harry flopped onto the couch and tried not to say anything discouraging. He'd decided he wasn't going to do that, any longer, though privately, he still did have his worries about the whole thing.

"But I have a year of school left to go, so it's not as though I've popped the question, Severus," added Draco. "That'll have to wait."

"Until you've earned your N.E.W.T.s?"

Draco glanced briefly at Harry, his eyes looking a little shadowed. "Longer than that, I would think. I'm not about to keep my wife a secret, not from anyone. But that means the war will have to be over before I can ask her to marry me. I'm not putting Rhiannon in danger."

"Quite well thought-out, Draco," said Snape in tones of approval.

"Besides, I'd need a proper house, first," added Draco, clearly warming to his theme. "I've thought about how to redecorate Grimmauld Place once the Order's through with it, but really, it's so dark and dreary that the best thing might be to gut it and start over. And then . . . well, I know Rhiannon adores magic, but she's seen very little of it. I'm not sure she'd want to live in an Unplottable location. At any rate, we have a lot to talk about, eventually."

"You'd live in a Muggle house?" asked Harry.

Draco raised his chin. "Why not? I love her." He glanced significantly around the small room then, and Harry got the point. Draco had already got used to living in the cottage--a cottage he had once termed a "hovel." He was more adaptable than Harry had once thought.

A slight rustling sound caught Snape's attention. They didn't always notice when post arrived for them, but sometimes it made more noise than others. With a careless flick of his wand, Snape summoned the letter and glanced down at the seal.

Even from a distance, Harry could see the emblem of a large bird sheltering several smaller ones under her wing. "It's from Family Services?"

"Not quite; it's from the Wizarding Home for Displaced and Orphaned Juvenile Squibs. And it's for Draco." Snape stretched out his hand to give Draco the scroll.

The other boy shrugged as he unrolled the parchment. "Probably telling us to come an hour later or something . . ." The moment he began to read, though, his whole body stiffened. "How dare she! Draco Snape Malfoy, am I?"

Harry decided not to mention that Malfoy actually still was a part of Draco's name. Draco didn't like it to be, Harry knew, but he'd thought it best, for strategic reasons. Oh, hell. It was best, in a lot of ways. Even Harry could see that.

A little frown began to crease the area between Draco's eyebrows, but as he read on, the expression became more pronounced. When Draco was through with the scroll, he flung it to the table so hard that it made a slapping noise. "Wonderful. That Emmeleia bitch says we can't visit the squib home tomorrow."

Harry thought bitch was a bit extreme, considering. "So we'll go when, on Monday night or something? Oh, does Rhiannon have rehearsal?"

"Yes, she does, but according to that," Draco pointed a contemptuous finger at it, "I'm never welcome again. Or Rhiannon."

"There must be some misunderstanding," said Snape, reaching forward to take the scroll. "May I?"

"Surprised it's not a Howler," muttered Draco. "Not that a squib could send one, but I bet she wanted to . . . What? Oh. Yes, go right ahead."

Harry smiled, a little wryly. "Oh, you ask him if it's all right to read his private letters."

"You aren't sorry I read yours, that once," said Snape evenly, his dark gaze flicking up.

"Not now, no." Harry smiled more widely, to show he'd been joking. "I'm very happy that you did."

"If you're quite through reminiscing," cut in Draco, his voice cold, but also threaded with anxiety.

Instead of replying, Snape unrolled the scroll. His brow furrowed. "Interesting choice of words, here. She thinks your interest in the school is prurient? I'm corrupting you both?"

"Us both?"

"Oh yes, you're in there. You should read it, too." Draco sighed. "Fuck. Rhiannon was really looking forward to going back, and with my luck, she'll think they won't let her in because after the bell thing, they know she's a Muggle! I'm sure you can imagine how well that will go over with her."

"Well, you could just tell her the truth--"

"What truth, Potter? I don't have the first clue what Emmeleia Volentier's problem is!"

"The letter doesn't say?"

Snape held it out. "Perhaps you should read it as your brother suggested."

So, Harry did.

Mr Draco Snape Malfoy
care of Professor Severus Snape:

You may be under the impression that money can buy anything, but some things, you will learn, are simply for not for sale. I don't care if you endow the home a hundred times over, we are not amenable to the kind of prurient interest you obviously have in mind. Though perhaps depravity would be the more accurate term. Don't bother to deny it; I know your type.

Therefore, do us the courtesy of never darkening our doorstep again.

You may as well inform your father that I do not appreciate seeing him corrupt his adopted sons with what passes for "civilized" pureblood customs. Perhaps in your case it's unavoidable; you resemble your birth father a great deal, and evidently, not only on the outside. But when it comes to Harry Potter, your father truly should know better.

As for the young lady you brought here to visit us, I was delighted to see that she'd left our facility without a word. That shows backbone; I assume that she had only that moment found some. To hear that she would like to come here again can only mean that you've persuaded her to participate in this barbaric tradition. The entire matter is utterly disgusting, and I can only hope that you come to your senses and begin to treat her with some respect.

At any rate, you are not welcome here, any of you, and don't think that you can persuade Horace Darswaithe to lift the restriction. If you so much as try, I will have no hesitation to tell him what I've found out. He will feel honour-bound to inform WFS of the matter, of course. I can't imagine the results will be pleasant.

Emmeleia Volentier

Deputy Head, Wizarding Home for Displaced and Orphaned Juvenile Squibs

"All right, maybe she is a bitch," said Harry when he'd finished.

"Stop that, both of you," snapped Snape as he glared at each boy in turn. "That's a very offensive term and frankly, one I'd expect from young men about to turn fifteen, not ones already adults or shortly to become so."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, chastened.

Draco, Harry noticed, never did reply. Snape probably noticed, but he let it go.

"Now, she's quite obviously got hold of the wrong end of the wand--"

That certainly got Draco to reply. "Ha. What wand? She's a squib, and this just goes to show--"

"What? What does it go to show?" asked Harry. Loudly.

"Never mind," grated Draco, teeth bared. "It takes a while to break all my old habits of mind, you know, and crap letters like this don't exactly help. Severus, do you know what she's blathering on about?"

"No."

"Marvellous."

Severus held up a hand. "I did notice when we first visited that she seemed . . . rather frosty. Toward you in particular, Draco."

"Oh yes, until I mentioned money, and then she gushed approval."

"There was a trace of sarcasm in it," corrected Snape. "Based on the salutation in this letter, I'd say she recognised you straight away as Lucius Malfoy's son and that mentioning money so prominently only convinced her you were quite a bit like him."

Draco scowled.

"She's misjudged the situation, however--"

"You think?"

"I meant," said Severus tightly, "that she's misjudged me. Her aim, as far as I can discern, was to keep all of us away from the squib home, but instead, she's convinced me to pay her a visit I hadn't intended."

"Oh, please." Draco scoffed. "You think I still want to spend any time there? I'll just have to figure out how to let Rhiannon know it's off. I'm certainly not telling her it's because of my depravity."

"Regardless of how you wish to deal with your petite amie, I consider the mention of Family Services a not-too-subtle threat against our family. I won't have it."

Harry smiled, though the subject at hand wasn't amusing, certainly. "We don't need WFS to make us a family, though."

"No, certainly not, but I still believe in extinguishing a threat rather than letting it sit about like a curse about to be unleashed."

Extinguishing? Harry swallowed back his first thought, which was pretty dire. It was ridiculous, even for an instant, to have his mind jump straight to . . . well, murder. Snape wasn't a Death Eater any longer, after all. And if he hadn't killed Aaron Aran, who really deserved it, he certainly wouldn't do that now.

Would he?

"Well, let us know what she says," said Harry, clearing his throat.

"Let us know?" Draco practically snorted. "Nobody has to let me know a thing. I plan to be right beside Severus when he asks this bi-- busybody, what she thinks she's playing at, saying she knows my type. And she'd better have a damned good explanation, is all I can say, or she'll know more about my type than she ever expected to!"

"I'll be going to visit Emmeleia Volentier on my own, Draco," said Snape calmly.

Draco straightened in his chair. "Oh, no you won't. I know I might have just sounded like my impulse control still needed work, but--"

"That's not it," interrupted Snape, though a second later the edges of his mouth turned up. "All right, perhaps that is indeed part of it. But mostly, I feel she will talk more freely if you aren't present. And I need her to talk freely, Draco. I need to be able to correct whatever misapprehensions she's labouring under."

"Oh, all right," grumbled Draco, sitting back again. "I guess Harry had it right, then. Let us know what she says."

"Oh, I shall," promised Snape, a grim look about him. "I shall."

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Once Snape had left, Harry tried to pass the time by working on his spell lexicon. It was hard to concentrate, though, when Draco kept re-reading the rude letter he'd received.

"Look," Harry finally said, setting aside his scroll, "that one's not like the one Richard Steyne once sent. I don't think you're going to be able to read between the lines and figure out what her problem is."

Draco tossed the letter aside. "Her problem's jealousy, most likely. It's not actually unheard of, you know. A lot of squibs feel that way."

Harry thought of Filch, trying to learn magic through that correspondence course. Ever since he'd seen that, he'd assumed the man's dour, bitter personality had come from disappointment. Which wasn't so far from jealousy, was it? "Yeah, I know."

"And there I thought you'd hate me saying that."

Shrugging, Harry got up to fix them some lunch. "What bothers me is when you judge everybody by one yardstick. Not all squibs are jealous, right? I don't get the feeling Marsha is."

"No, she's not," agreed Draco, following Harry into the kitchen. "Oh, toasted cheese sandwiches? Rather plain fare, isn't it? Oh, well, better make three. You know, one for Severus in case he's not too long."

Harry threw his brother an annoyed look. "You could actually help, you know."

Draco grinned. "Anything need chopping? I know I can do that, at least."

"Rhiannon'll probably expect you to cook whole dinners all by yourself," said Harry. "Like when she has to rehearse a new opera all day, and she comes home famished. And I bet she'll be like Hermione, and not be able to stand the idea of an elf doing all the work."

Draco shuddered, rather theatrically, then sat down and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I'll fly over that canyon when I come to it, won't I? Perhaps we'll eat a lot of take-away. I know already that she likes fish and chips. Oh, and samosas."

"You're not such a bad cook, Draco," said Harry as he shredded Swiss cheese. Damn, but it was slow going. Maybe he should figure out a grating spell. Then again, it could just be that his arms were still sore from all those laps.

"Says the boy who spat my attempt at gnocchi into his napkin!"

"Well, I didn't say you were good, did I?" Laughing, Harry decided not to pester Draco about helping with lunch. It would be easier just to insist he cook their dinner, since it was his turn, anyway.

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

Their father arrived home just as Harry was cooking the last of the three sandwiches.

Sitting down with a sigh, Snape flicked his wand to summon two Butterbeers. He set them down with a clink in front of the two filled plates already laid out for Harry and Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

"You have no idea."

"Galliano for you, then?"

Snape's dark eyes glittered, but then he shook his head. "Perhaps after we speak."

"Here, Dad," said Harry, carrying over Snape's plate and a tall glass of water.

Draco sat down opposite Snape, but didn't say anything until Harry had joined them at table. Then, he leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely around his bottle. "And so?"

Snape began rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Miss Volentier's issue with your proposed visit, Draco . . . it's rather personal."

Harry and Draco exchanged a puzzled glance, but it was Draco who spoke. "What's her personal business got to do with me?"

"Quite a lot, actually, though only by proxy."

"Proxy?"

"Perhaps I should begin another way," said Snape, clearing his throat. "You're both acquainted with the facts of life, and--"

Harry almost snorted. As far as he was concerned, Draco was a hell of a lot more acquainted with them than he was.

"I did assume from the word depravity that her problem had something to do with the facts of life, Severus," said Draco, his chin raised. "Though I can't imagine what."

Snape stopped rubbing his nose and took a long drink of water. When he set his glass down, his features looked firm with resolve. "Here it is, then. When we first dropped by the home, Miss Volentier was briefly of the mind that I had brought you there so you could meet some of the young ladies shortly to finish their education there, and . . . select one."

"Select one for what?" asked Harry.

Draco, though, had obviously caught on. "Oh. Oh. Sweet Merlin. I've heard of that, but nobody actually does it any longer. Is she daft? It's positively Victorian!"

"What's Victorian?" Harry looked from Draco to Snape and back, but it was his father who finally answered.

"Pureblooded men have been known to take squib women as mistresses, Harry. Draco's correct that it's a rather antiquated custom, but it's not unheard of, even in the present day."

It took Harry a second to connect that information to Emmeleia's initial coldness towards them, and her accusation that Snape was corrupting his sons. Then, he was pretty well horrified. "What, she thought we'd gone there shopping for one each, or something? We're only sixteen! Or supposed to be," he added with a glare at Draco.

Draco shrugged, but then his features took on a scornful cast. "I suppose that explains her letter, but what on earth was her basis for such a bizarre assumption?"

"Primarily, the fact that you look a great deal like a young Lucius Malfoy. You signed the register as Draco Snape, but as her letter demonstrates, she recognised you straight away as his son by birth."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

Snape closed his own eyes. Obviously, he felt he'd come to the difficult part. "Shortly after your mother became pregnant, Draco, Lucius Malfoy decided he was entitled to a mistress. He met Emmeleia Volentier at a wedding of a distant cousin, and . . . took a shine to her, I suppose. He set her up in a flat of her own and visited her, shall we say, for a few months."

Draco shoved away his lunch plate so roughly that his sandwich nearly slid off it. "That's rubbish, it is. Lucius would Crucio himself before he'd ever, ever lay a finger on a squib woman!"

Ha, thought Harry, his memory whirling back to that horrible time Snape had practically shoved him into a pensieve. You don't have any real idea what goes on at Death Eater gatherings, then, do you?

He almost expected their father to say exactly that, but Snape had a different perspective, entirely. "In terms of bloodlines, hers is as pure as anyone's," he said, his eyes snapping open. "Lucius would have considered her in that light, notwithstanding her lack of magic."

"He'd risk having a child with a squib? I don't think so!"

"And there you had assured me, not too many nights past, that you were conversant with the concept of contraception. Thoroughly conversant, I think you said."

Draco bared his teeth. "Yes, I am, Severus. But even the best charms aren't always fool-proof. According to Hermione, not even . . . barrier methods are without fail."

Snape nodded, the motion a little abrupt. "I am gratified you know as much. However, certain procedures are indeed fool-proof, and she has had them."

Harry was starting to wish he hadn't had a Butterbeer, since his stomach was starting to feel kind of churny, by then. And no wonder. "You mean she had an operation or something, so she couldn't possibly ever have any children?"

"And I thought sucking someone's bone marrow out was disgusting," muttered Draco.

"Why would she agree to that?" Harry shuddered. "I mean, just so she could be somebody's mistress?"

"Ah, well I actually don't know if Lucius insisted or if she'd had the procedure prior, for reasons of her own. As for the other . . ." Severus sighed. "It's not unknown for squib women of a certain social class to participate in such arrangement. What sort of other living could she earn? Jobs for squibs are few and far between. Most such women must either make their way in the Muggle world, or forever remain in their parents' abode."

"But Filch--"

"Is, I assure you, an example of Albus Dumbledore's generous spirit. Most wizarding institutions have no positions on staff for squibs."

Draco frowned. "All right, I can see that with her history, she might jump to conclusions about what Lucius' son was doing at a squib home. But she talked to Harry and me for a while that first day, you know, after you left, Severus. And she never said a word."

"Of course not. By then, she'd concluded that her initial impression had been in error. However, when she saw you standing at the counter with Miss Miller the next time you came . . ." Severus winced slightly. "Your petite amie does bear a passing resemblance to Narcissa, you know. It seemed to Miss Volentier that the past was repeating itself in a new form. She thought that you'd brought your wife-to-be with you in order to include her from the first in your . . . selection of a squib mistress."

"That's completely sickening."

"And it doesn't make sense," added Harry. "Rhiannon rang the bell. Nobody could think her a witch, not after that."

"Miss Volentier wasn't in the reception area when that happened. In fact, I doubt she heard that tiny sound at all through the din of both of you also ringing the bell. At any rate, you may recall that Miss Volentier came back out later, and saw that Miss Miller had left the building? She took that to mean that--"

"That Rhiannon had found her backbone, yeah," said Draco. "Enough to decide she wouldn't put up with me having a mistress."

"Yes, and therefore Miss Volentier was highly disturbed to learn that Miss Miller would like to return to the facility."

"She's disturbed, all right," muttered Draco. He downed half his drink before speaking again. "What a fucking mess."

"Language," said Snape, but Harry could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"Um . . ." Harry ventured a weak smile. "You seem awfully sure of your facts. Mind if I ask how you'd even know all this?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You really do forget who Severus used to socialise with, don't you? How many times have I told you about Death Eater gossip? Lucius must have bragged about this, I guess. Not that I ever heard a word about it, but I suppose he talked to his mates--"

"Yeah, that explains why Dad let you take Rhiannon to the squib home and never said a thing about the weird ideas that woman might be getting--"

"Plots within plots," snapped Draco. Just a moment later, it was like he'd heard himself and had come to an awful conclusion. "You wanted to cause trouble between us?"

"Draco, I do not always have a plot afoot," said Snape, clearly exasperated. "And I have nothing against Rhiannon Miller. Except for her failure to arrive on time to her place of employment, she seems quite a pleasant young woman. Now, as for Lucius, no, of course he never mentioned any sort of dalliance to me. He didn't 'kiss and tell' any more than you do."

"Thanks," said Draco sourly. "I love being compared to him all the time, I really do."

"Look, Dad didn't mean it that way."

"No, but she did." Draco's lips twisted. "She took one look at me and decided she knew all about me, for no better reason than how I happen to look."

"Welcome to my life," said Harry, very dryly.

Draco stared at him for a moment, then smiled, just a little. "Touché."

"And think, she's only one person. I get that from just about everyone I meet."

"You know," drawled Draco, "I did get the point already. You don't have to actually pound it into my brain like I'm as dense as Crabbe."

"Yeah. Sorry." Harry turned back to Snape. "So how do you know all this stuff, then?"

Snape shrugged, clearly unapologetic. "A touch of Legilimency. It didn't take long to ascertain that her issue was an unpleasant history with Draco's father."

"With Lucius," stressed Draco.

"I was speaking from her point of view, you idiot child."

"Oh." Draco looked a little abashed, but it didn't last long. "But what was so unpleasant? The way you tell it, she got a posh flat and plenty of money out of her deal with Lucius."

"She also got a taste of what he liked to do in bed," Snape said bluntly. "It wasn't to her liking. Eventually his . . . practices became aberrant enough that she wished to end their arrangement."

Aberrant practices . . . yeah, that sounded like Lucius Malfoy, all right. The man was clearly a sadist. Look at the horrible punishments he'd inflicted on Draco, growing up. Harry had seen with his own eyes the vicious satisfaction Lucius had taken in hurting Draco, that awful day in France. Not to mention, the way he'd stared at Harry's naked torso, the way he'd obviously relished the idea of stripping Harry completely naked, later on.

Harry shuddered.

"Oh, what's your problem?" asked Draco scathingly. "You're not the one who was just told he's descended from a sick, pathetic fuck. Not that I hadn't figured that out on my own, mind."

"Who he was doesn't control who you are," said Severus quietly. "You've made your own path in this last year, and it's a better one than he ever set foot on."

Draco looked like he hadn't even heard that. "Oh. Oh, no. You don't think he did awful things to my mother, do you? I . . . I think I'm going to need a stomach-calming draught. And if either one of you mentions that vanishing bucket instead, you'll regret it."

"Hush, Draco," said Snape, reaching across the table to catch one of the boy's trembling hands. "I honestly don't think Narcissa would put up with anything like that."

"Oh, because she's known for standing up to him?" Draco laughed, the sound so bitter that Harry winced. "Like she did this last year, Severus? Renouncing me? Standing alongside him, in public at least, as he did everything he could think of to kill me?"

"Plots within plots," Snape reminded Draco. "Where did you learn the phrase, Draco? From your mother? She evidently decided she could help you more if she didn't openly alienate Lucius."

"Oh, sure, she's as Slytherin as they come," agreed Draco tightly. "But name me one thing, one, she's ever done that proves she could say no to Lucius and make it stick."

Snape's lips curled upwards. "She forced him to give up his mistress."

"I thought you said Emmeleia left Lucius on her own," said Harry.

"She did try," answered Snape. "But Lucius was determined to keep her . . . available. When he blackmailed her to this end, Miss Volentier went to Narcissa for help."

Harry decided then that it was a good thing he wasn't eating. He might have choked. "Narcissa actually gave her some? Why not just kill her on the spot?"

"Because that wouldn't have thwarted Lucius as much as knowing that Narcissa could deny him a mistress who still lived." Snape's eyes glinted. "Quite cunning, the whole incident, really. Miss Volentier needed a means of supporting herself, since her family was insisting she continue her liaison with Lucius. At that time, Walpurgis Black was still conducting his baby-swapping business, but as he was getting on in years, he had a use for an assistant. Narcissa paired them up."

"A squib assistant?" Draco rolled his eyes. "What use would that be?"

"An assistant who could blend into the Muggle world as needed. Miss Volentier can. When she was younger, she was educated at a Muggle school in Canada, actually."

"Then why couldn't she just get a Muggle job?" asked Harry.

"She could have, but it wouldn't have paid nearly as well as Lucius' offer. Beyond that, she'd had a taste of both worlds and evidently preferred ours. And then later, when she wanted to get away from Lucius, there was the blackmail to consider."

Draco leaned back in his chair. "How could Narcissa have put a stop to that, though?"

"Since Miss Volentier herself didn't know the details, I don't know them, either," Snape admitted. "I can only imagine a threat to divorce was involved."

"Oh, yes." By then, Draco was nodding. "And as the wronged party, my mother would have got custody of me. Pureblood vows, all that. Lucius would have done anything to avoid that sort of public scandal. Hmm. I imagine my mother made him take an Unbreakable Vow back then, while she still had the upper hand."

"Is that how Emmeleia got her job at the squib home, then?" asked Harry. "Walpurgis Black?"

"Yes, when he was persuaded to desist from the baby-switching business. He had endowed the home several times before his final bequest. Enough, certainly, to have a great deal of influence over it."

"Speaking of the squib home, I suppose I should go back to the pool and tell Rhiannon that our visit has been cancelled."

"It hasn't been," said Snape gently. "Miss Volentier was rather chagrined once I had convinced her of her error in judgment."

"Oh, she believes I'm not Lucius, now?" sneered Draco.

"You didn't tell her Rhiannon was a Muggle, did you?" asked Harry. "I thought we agreed she'd be safer if that wasn't well-known."

"I hardly expect Voldemort or his minions to visit a home for squibs in search of information about any of us, but since Darswaithe has already been compromised once . . ." Snape shrugged. "I persuaded Miss Volentier that Rhiannon was merely an acquaintance of Draco's and not a romantic interest at all. In fact, she now believes Rhiannon to be squib who wants to visit the home to see what sort of education she might have had if she hadn't been taken in by Muggles."

"The road not taken, yeah . . ."

Draco started. "I hope you also persuaded her not to mention that story to Rhiannon. Or use the word squib, for that matter. Not to mention Muggle."

"I'm afraid you'll have to tell your petite amie that after she left so precipitously last time, the only way you could arrange a tour was to insist she had quite a good reason for one. That should explain why she has to go along with the story that she's magically-impaired. That's the term Miss Volentier prefers to squib, in any case."

"What about Muggle?"

Snape narrowed his eyes and fixed his gaze squarely on Draco. "If you're really intending to continue this relationship for the long-term, your young lady will sooner or later have to reconcile herself to the word. You won't be able to convince everyone of your acquaintance to stop using it."

Draco grimaced, but nodded.

"I do believe I'll have that Galliano, now," said Snape, rising. "And as our lunch has gone cold while we talked, perhaps a reheating charm is in order. Harry?"

"Hey, I was the one who cooked!"

"And that excuses you from mastering new spells in Parseltongue, does it?"

While Harry rolled his eyes and started calling for Sals to help him, Draco smirked.

But not for long.

"You can clear away the cooking mess while Harry reheats the food," said Snape.

Draco sighed, even though it only took him a few waves of his wand to see to it.