"I want to be an Auror." Her expression didn't change, so Draco tried again. "That's like . . . hmm, I don't know another word for it. It's someone who works for Magical Law Enforcement. Catching dark wizards, that sort of thing."
"Dark wizards."
"Well, there are a few, yes."
Her lips twitched a bit. "Now see, that's funny. All the thinking I've done about wizards, it never occurred to me that you have criminal types, too."
Draco nodded, the things Hermione and he had talked about resonating even more strongly. "Except for having magic, we're just like you." Dragging in a breath, he went ahead and asked the next logical question, though it was harder to say than all the rest. "So . . . would you like to come out with me, again? To dinner this evening, perhaps?"
"I would like to, yes," she said, standing up.
Draco rose to his feet as well.
"I promised Uncle Stanley that I'd do some weeding in the garden, though. I'd better change clothes and get to that. Would you like to stay and help? Er . . . you aren't really dressed for it, but you could talk to me, if you like."
Not dressed for it. Draco almost laughed. He didn't, though. He wasn't going to have her thinking he was making fun. It wasn't that. It was just so interesting to see how her mind worked, how magic never seemed to occur to her. "I'd love to talk with you. But I can transfigure . . . er, change my clothes, you know, using magic." He grinned. "Or I could just banish all the weeds away, if you like. I learned how in Herbology."
"Herbology? I think we call that botany. Um . . . sure, though. I'd rather not weed the garden if there's a way around it. I'll just make some lemonade and we'll sit out there and talk. All right?"
Halfway to the kitchen, she turned around. "I appreciate the weeds thing, but I hope you don't start thinking that I just like you for your magic. That would be every bit as terrible as liking you for your money."
Draco was just relieved to hear that she liked him, full stop. He smiled. "At least you find the magic rather interesting. Your life . . . it's like that for me, too. For instance, I've never had lemonade."
"I'll do it right and make fresh, then. How did you hear of it?"
It was news to Draco that anything except fresh was even possible, but he didn't remark on it. "Oh, Harry swears by it. That and orange juice. Neither one is very well-known in the wizarding world, but Harry grew up away from all that until he was eleven. Anyway, ever since I met you, I've been getting him to teach me a few things I thought I ought to know."
"But not how to use a telephone," she teased.
"No, we forgot about that. But then, Severus doesn't have one."
"I don't like that," she said slowly. "You're always showing up at the pool and such, but what if I want to reach you? What about after you go back to school? Can you get a mobile, you think?"
"I'd love to, but things like that don't work at Hogwarts."
Her expression fell, even as she grabbed some lemons from a basket on the kitchen counter and began to halve them. Draco thought of drawing his wand to make her task easier, but decided that she might find him overbearing if he used magic all the time.
"Well, I suppose letters will have to do, then. You can use the Royal Mail, can't you?"
"We usually use owls."
"Owls?" She all but sputtered. "Draco--"
"I did think of a way, though," he quickly explained. "I've got a friend--" Sweet Merlin, he was calling Hermione Granger a friend.
After the way they'd talked the day before, though, he supposed she actually was one. Not a bad one, either.
"I've got a friend," he started over. "She's a witch, but her parents aren't magical. At any rate, I asked her if they could help with this, and she thought it would be fine. You can mail letters to them and they'll owl them on to me. And once I'm at school, I'll owl them my letters to pass on." Draco quickly spotted a pad of paper and . . . huh, no quill. He made do with some kind of Muggle writing instrument. When it didn't seem to write anything, he turned it around the other way. Still no luck, not even after a good hard shake.
Rhiannon didn't say a word; she just reached over and pulled on one end, separating it into two pieces. Oh. Draco could see a little nub then, oozing with blue ink. Trying for nonchalance again, he finally got the thing working. "Here's her parents' address. But until summer is over, there shouldn't be any reason to need to use it. I don't think I can leave you alone for more than a day at a time."
That last bit was perhaps too eager, but Rhiannon only smiled as she juiced the lemons and mixed in water and sugar. "I've missed you, too. It seems an age since we . . ." She blushed again, her blue eyes sparkling a little before she looked away. "Since that time we had lunch here, alone."
"I remember," breathed Draco, goose bumps rising on his arms, as he thought about her mouth, warm on his skin, and the way pleasure had rushed all through him. Better than his own hand, that was for certain. A lot better. But, considering the way she'd thrown that in his face when she'd got angry . . . Draco suddenly sensed that he was adrift in dangerous waters.
"But just as you don't like me for the magic, I'd hope you know I don't like you for that," he said, nodding, because it was important that she believe him. "I didn't come here thinking about it, even--"
"You didn't like it?"
"I loved it!" exclaimed Draco, before he realised she was teasing him.
"I loved it, too," she said softly. "But . . . maybe that was a little too much, too soon. We should wait. You're right."
Draco hadn't exactly said they should wait, and he didn't particularly care to, but he wanted even less for her to feel that that was all he wanted. For all that though, he suddenly couldn't bear to be standing there alone while she used a long wooden spoon to stir the contents of the pitcher.
"Come here," he said, opening his arms. Rhiannon went into them without hesitation, without protest, and leaned her cheek against his chest. "We'll wait longer, this time. We'll do it right, and get to know each other better, and--"
He stopped talking then, because Rhiannon had made the first move and was kissing him, one of her hands slowly trailing up his back until her fingers began to tease the hair at his nape, the sensation rather like a tickle. Not the kind that made you laugh, though. The kind that made you want to tickle back.
Draco didn't, though. A little too much, too fast, just as she'd said before, and he wasn't going to give her any cause to doubt him, or doubt his intentions towards her.
Kissing though . . . that much he'd allow himself.
Lemonade was refreshingly tart, Draco later found. But Rhiannon? She was very, very sweet.
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Coming Soon in A Summer Like None Other:
Chapter 19: "Everybody Has Issues"
Comments very welcome,
Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter 19: Everyone Has Issues
http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=13093&chapter=19
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A Summer Like None Other
by Aspen in the Sunlight
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Chapter Nineteen:
Everyone Has Issues
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Swimming laps might be the best way to improve his fledgling swimming skills, but after about half an hour, it was also unbelievably dull, despite periodically changing from one stroke to another, as Roger had recommended. Harry kept on anyway, ignoring the ache in his shoulders and thighs.