Draco's jaw dropped. In fact, he very nearly drew his wand. "How dare you read my private post!"
"I let him," said Hermione, her voice as cool as Weasley's was hot as she stared straight at Draco. "I had to. Molly Weasley was having a fit at the idea that I planned to Portkey here alone. Oh . . . I was at the Burrow when your letter reached me.And to be quite honest with you, I didn't know what to make of it, either."
"Yeah, so don't play innocent!"
Draco all at once felt ill. "Merlin," he groaned, ignoring Ron and shaking his head at Hermione. "You didn't really think I meant . . . did you?"
"Please," said Hermione scathingly. "You and a Muggleborn? You? Right."
Oh, dear. That didn't bode well.
"Yeah, well I still think the whole thing sounds awfully dodgy!" retorted Ron, who clearly wasn't listening to a word anybody was saying. As usual.
"Oh, for God's sake," said Harry, going over to stand in front of Ron. Putting both hands on his shoulders, he gave his friend a slight shake. "Draco's not interested in Hermione, Ron. Not. Not. Trust me on this one."
As Weasley shrugged Harry off, the dull red flush under his skin went a darker colour, but not from anger. Humiliation, maybe. Draco hoped so, anyway.
And that was before he heard the next idiotic claim to come out of Weasley's mouth. "So what's it all mean, then, all this rot about you being a lot closer to Muggles than you ever knew? Are you one of those children we always hear rumours about? You know, a Muggleborn switched at birth?"
"No, I'm bloody well not a Muggleborn," shouted Draco, aghast. "Switched at birth! How dare you! Do you want to duel, Weasley, is that it?"
"Nobody will be duelling," said Severus calmly. When Draco glanced behind him, his father was giving a tiny shake of his head.
Draco took a deep breath, appalled now not only at the nasty suggestion Ron had made, but also at himself. He hadn't even noticed when Severus had come into the cottage; he'd been too caught up in the conversation. He knew better than to lose track of his surroundings like that. In any sort of real battle, it would be deadly.
At that same moment, Draco felt the gentle brush of his father's mind against his own. Just a touch, the same as had happened two days earlier. This time, though, he didn't misunderstand. Severus wasn't trying to read his mind. No, that was his way of privately showing Draco that Severus was there for him. The others would see a hand on Draco's shoulder, but not this.
Draco relaxed, giving a tiny nod of his own. Severus marked it, he was sure.
Meanwhile, Harry had taken a couple of steps away from Ron. "Draco? I think you'd better just come out with it."
Probably the best thing to do, Draco thought. Knowing that and doing it were two different things, though. It wasn't really Weasley's business, was it? But really, after all this rubbish about love-letters and Muggleborns switched at birth . . . yes, the best thing to do would be to clear everything up, right now.
Draco shoved his hands into his pockets. He was getting a bit weary of explaining himself. He felt like he'd been doing that for weeks, to Harry, and he was only going to have to do a lot more of it in a few moments, if he was going to persuade Granger to recommend a course of action. Instinct had him wrapping one hand around the grip of his wand, but not to wield it. He just felt better when he had it in hand, even though he was still getting used to feel of the maple.
"I invited Hermione here so she could give me some advice," he said, head held high. "If she'd be so good."
"Advice?" That was Hermione, her forehead crinkling up. "About what?"
"You, coming to her for advice!" Ron practically guffawed. "Oh, that's rich!"
There was more ridicule coming; Draco could tell. Weasley was just getting started. Draco stiffened, his arm just itching to draw his wand.
Severus must have sensed how close Draco was coming to losing control of his impulses. "You're a guest in my son's home," the Potions Master announced, his voice severe. When Draco glanced at him, he was levelling something close to a death glare at Weasley. "And it's my home as well. Kindly remember that."
"Yes, sir," murmured Ron, looking down and shuffling his feet.
"Draco, what can I help you with?" asked Hermione again, a little more slowly.
"I need to talk to you alone--"
"Oh, no you don't!"
Ron again. Of course. Jealous idiot. He was looking up now, his eyes flashing as if to warn Draco off.
Which of course meant that Draco had to try his own version of a death glare. "Oh, yes I do," he mocked. But then, because he was awfully tired of pointless argument, he said the rest of it. It was easier than he would have thought, all things considered. "I need a feminine perspective. A Muggle perspective. Because I actually am in love, as it turns out. But not with Hermione. With a Muggle girl, and that's what I need advice about. Satisfied, Weasley?"
Satisfied didn't exactly cover it, Draco thought. Weasley looked floored. Absolutely staggered. His red colour abruptly faded. "You . . . and a . . . Muggle! You're having us on!"
"I'm not."
"You're serious?"
"Perfectly," said Draco. Coldly. "And now, if Hermione will be so kind, we'll be having a private talk. In my bedroom, but if you say one word out of place about it, I'll--"
"Oh, shush, Draco," said Hermione, stepping forward to lay a hand on Weasley's forearm. "Ron's not going to say anything else. Are you, Ron?"
Draco had to hand it to her; she really did know how to wrap the other boy around her finger. He just hoped she understood Muggle girls as well as she obviously understood Weasley.
Weasley shook his head, but he didn't look any too happy. Actually, Draco wouldn't have been surprised if he only waited five minutes and then began to pound on the door, yelling things. He did, after all, have a nasty habit of making the nastiest sorts of allegations.
Severus must have thought something similar. "A game of chess to pass the time," he suggested, his voice edged with hard tones. "What about it, Mr Weasley?"
"Well--"
"Oh, you can't pass that up," said Harry, clearly trying to smooth things over. "And you'd better take the offer while it's good. Er . . . Dad has to leave in a little while, I think."
"Indeed." Severus inclined his head. "I've an appointment at three."
Ron glanced around as if looking for help from some quarter. He certainly didn't get any from Granger.
"Really, Ronald," she said, sighing. "If you don't trust me to be alone in a room with Draco, you should just say so."
"It's not you I don't trust--"
"I'm in love with another girl," said Draco, laughing it off that time. What else was there to do, when Weasley was being so completely ridiculous? "Tell you what. A hundred Galleons if you can manage to keep Severus from completely humiliating you."
"Oh, sure, act like your gold can buy anything you want." Ron practically spat the words.
"But it can't," said Draco calmly. "It can't buy Rhiannon. If it could, I wouldn't need to talk with Hermione. All right . . . Ron?"
"Oh, fine. Go, fine. But keep the door open, mind--"
"Ronald!"
"Or closed," Weasley hurriedly added. "Whatever."
Draco wasted no time in taking him at his word. He strode into the bedroom, head held high, never once looking behind him.
------------------------------------------------------
"So . . . you love a Muggle girl," said Hermione doubtfully as soon as Draco had finished casting privacy spells. "Any reason why you didn't just say so in your letter?"
"I didn't think you'd believe me."
Hermione smiled, and not pleasantly. "But I don't believe you. What's this really all about, Draco?"