Only when his muscles actually began to feel sort of squishy from exhaustion did he swim back to his father and lean up against the edge of the pool, eyes closed.
"You're developing an impressive level of endurance. Here, have some water."
Harry cracked one eye and saw that Snape was holding out a metal flask. Harry very nearly laughed; he could just imagine Rhiannon's uncle sending a lifeguard over to complain this time about Snape drinking alcohol in the pool. Harry made sure his back was to the pool office as he took the flask and drained it. "Oh, this really hits the spot. Thanks, Dad."
Snape's shrug sent ripples along the surface of the water.
"Draco's not back, yet?"
Snape gave him a bit of a look, at that. Well, it had been a daft question. "I'm just worried," Harry explained. "What if she throws him over again?"
"We will get him through it, you and I." Snape took the flask back and set it on the concrete surrounding the pool. "That, I presume, is what families do."
"You presume?"
The moment he'd said it, Harry wished he could call the question back. He hadn't meant to pry. Well, actually he had, but he'd wanted to do it in a way that was a lot less obvious.
Snape stiffened, staring off into the distance. "I think you know I didn't have an ideal childhood, by any means."
It was nothing that Harry hadn't heard before, nothing that he didn't know, but he still felt encouraged that Snape would admit to that, rather than grow furious about the question. "Yeah, I know that," Harry said after a moment. "I can't figure out how you learned to be such a great father yourself."
"Experience," said Snape dryly. "My duties at the school no doubt provided some sort of background. Though I wonder that you can call me 'great,' Harry. When I think back I see mistake after mistake."
Harry was a little surprised to hear that Snape saw things in that light. Unless he was talking about the way he used to ridicule and belittle Harry, but that was before Harry had become his son, so it didn't seem to really fit. And it certainly wasn't Snape's fault he'd got addicted to Truthful Dreams; he'd only been taking it to help the Order, originally, and that had just got out of control.
Really, the only other thing Harry could think of was the way Snape had insisted on interrogating Nott himself, after the attack, instead of bringing Harry back to Hogwarts at once. Dumbledore had criticised that. He'd definitely thought it an error in judgement, along with--.
"Well, maybe when your house was in an uproar over you shouldn't have left them to the headmaster to deal with, so you could go back to that alley and collect what was left of my mother's ring," Harry said, shrugging. "But that's not such a bad mistake."
"I'm thinking more of other matters."
Harry would have asked which, but something in Snape's expression was answer enough. Gulping a little, he glanced down at his own arms. "Oh, that. It's not your fault I started to--"
"I didn't say it was my fault," corrected Snape quietly. "I do believe you know what I think of your penchant for assigning yourself unwarranted blame. I hold myself responsible only for my own mistakes, one of which was failing to secure Lucius' portrait as I should have. It's not as though I didn't know what sort of trouble could result."
Harry nodded, feeling like the sun had gone behind a cloud. He didn't want to think about all that. "Um . . . how is Remus doing? You know, with his . . . er, acting?"
"I'll tell you in detail later, but the short answer is, as well as can be expected."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"He thinks his wife is beginning to behave a bit oddly."
"Whose wife?" asked Draco's voice from behind them.
Whirling in the water, Harry saw his brother crouching down at the pool's edge. "How did it go?"
Draco grinned. "Oh, we made up. She even let me help her weed the garden."
Harry tried to picture that. "You weeded?"
Draco patted his trouser pocket.
"Should have known you'd cheat," said Harry, trying for a carefree tone. He knew he ought to be happy for Draco. Really happy. What else could this mean except that Draco was starting to really get over his ridiculous ideas about pure blood meaning something? That was great news, just about the best Harry could think of.
No matter how he tried, though, some small part of him was still a little bit . . . bothered, he supposed, by the whole thing. Draco with Rhiannon just sounded like a phenomenally bad idea to him. It couldn't really work out, could it? Draco was on the rebound from Pansy, and what had he done but found her exact opposite, right down to choosing a Muggle instead of a pureblood? What sort of basis was that for a romance?
Well, at least one of his concerns had been lifted: Harry didn't suppose he could claim to be worried about Draco hexing the girl any longer. That obviously wasn't going to happen.
Draco didn't seem to notice Harry's unease at all; he was too caught up in his own euphoria. "I'll have you know, Rhiannon thought my weeding assistance was brilliant. Now, whose wife were the two of you gossiping about, eh?"
Harry bit his lip, because he knew Draco wasn't going to appreciate hearing that Snape and he had been discussing Narcissa. Not that they really had been, but it might come across that way.
"Lucius'," said Snape in a clipped tone. "We should probably go home where we can speak freely."
Draco leaned forward over the edge of the pool, his grey eyes intense. "You've got news."
"Nothing of great import." Snape shook his head. "But I would still prefer we defer the conversation."
Harry didn't have any trouble reading the longing on his brother's face. On one level it disturbed him, because Draco was worth ten of Narcissa Malfoy. She certainly wasn't going to be thrilled to find out that her son was dating a Muggle. On another level, though . . . Harry could understand Draco wanting to hear how his mum was doing.
Draco loved Narcissa, that much was very clear. He loved her even though she hadn't had the courage to stand up publicly and denounce Lucius and his plot to capture and kill Draco. He loved her even though she'd really hurt him, and he needed to hear whatever small bits of news Remus might have shared about her.
"Well, I've had enough of swimming, anyway," he said, pulling himself up by his hands and standing up as Snape did the same.
Draco rose from his crouch and wrinkled his nose. "I would say so. You're as pruney as an old kappa--"
Snape was towelling off his hair by then; he managed to make some droplets hit Draco on the cheek. Harry thought it was an accident until Snape lowered the towel and inquired, "An old what, did you say?"
"An old . . . cap that's been in the water too long."
Draco grinned, clearly thinking himself clever, but all Harry could ask was when he'd ever seen a cap.
"Rhiannon lent me one to wear in the garden," he replied smartly.
"Oh, because you were working so hard weeding."
Draco looked like he wanted to clout Harry, but only in a good-natured way. "Home, then," he only said. "Let's hear what Severus has to say."
Nodding, Harry made his way to the changing room, leaving Snape and Draco alone at the edge of the pool.
------------------------------------------------------
They ended up grabbing some fish and chips takeaway so they wouldn't have to "waste time making lunch," as Draco put it. Draco even insisted on paying, saying that in the circumstances, he might as well become highly conversant with the odd custom of currency being divided into units of a hundred. That got him an odd look from the cashier and a stern one from Snape, but Draco looked so happy that Harry doubted he'd noticed either one.
Harry's own heart sank a little, seeing that, because he knew, he just knew, that this thing with Rhiannon wasn't going to work out the way Draco obviously wanted.