Forgery . . . Harry turned to his father. "But even if you . . . er, stick one onto Remus, it's your mark. It wouldn't burn when Voldemort is calling Lucius, only when he's calling you. Or when he's summoning everyone, I suppose."
"Well-reasoned," said Snape. "Every time I graft a new mark onto Remus, I have to subtly weave Lucius' magical signature through it."
"Highly advanced sorcery," added Draco. "Very impressive. Not many wizards could manage it."
Snape threw Draco a slightly annoyed look. "I couldn't either, not without certain advantages, such as that Portkey Lucius once charmed. Kingsley was good enough to entrust that to Albus, no questions asked."
For a minute, Harry was lost, and then he remembered. Darswaithe under the Imperius curse, trying to kidnap Harry. Draco had sworn that the Portkey they'd found that day had Lucius Malfoy's magical signature written all over it. In retrospect, Harry supposed it was a good thing the Order had nicked the evidence, but had the headmaster been planning such minute details months ago? And why would Snape need that particular object?
"Wouldn't anything Lucius had enchanted work just as well? Remus could just bring something from Malfoy Manor."
"Lupin 'bringing something' of Lucius' would be tantamount to theft, as far as this process is concerned. The transference spells require something created with evil intent and which was freely yielded by the caster."
"Oh. That sounds harder to get."
"Considerably."
"Advanced sorcery, I told you," said Draco, laughing a little. "But you should understand that, Harry. It's like when the warding spells failed at first, because you didn't meet the conditions for living in Dad's quarters."
Harry nodded. "Oh, speaking of Dudley--"
"I wasn't."
"Well, I am. Tuesday, you think, Dad, for that family dinner? We'll eat a little early, so we have time for a good visit before we go to Marsha's office."
To Harry's surprise, Draco began to beam. And not sarcastically, either. His words, though, soon cleared everything up. "How charming. A family dinner. I insist on inviting Rhiannon along. I want her to see that Harry's got a Muggle cousin. Oh, but nobody use that word around her. She doesn't like it."
"I remember," said Harry wryly. He half-expected Snape to tell Draco that a family dinner was just for family. Which Rhiannon wasn't, yet.
"I should be very pleased to get to know your young lady better," Snape merely said. "You've introduced her to side-along Apparition, I take it?"
Draco grinned. "Popped her from one room to another inside her house."
"Just inside a private residence, then?" asked Snape, his tone sharp. "You aren't licensed to Apparate in public without someone who is."
"Just inside her own house," confirmed Draco solemnly, but then he grinned at Harry. "She loved it."
Harry's mouth fell open. He remembered his first side-along, with Snape. He'd very nearly vomited afterwards, the shift had been so . . . unsettling. "She loved it?"
"I told you, she adores anything to do with magic. Took to Apparating like a niffler to digging. She wasn't sick at all, said it felt like butterflies in her stomach, was all." Draco pursed his lips. "She really should have been a witch. It's not fair for the Fates to make her do without, when she loves it so much. But, if I'd fallen for a blind girl, I guess I'd have decided to be her eyes, so . . ."
"You'd have brewed her some Sight Restorative Potion," Harry pointed out.
Draco's face looked stiff when he replied. "Well, there's no potion that grants magic, Harry, and no way to steal it. Not even the Darkest Arts have ever managed that one." He pushed away what remained of his meal. "I know how much she'd like to have some magic, though, if there were any way at all."
"I suppose a lot of Muggles would feel the same." Harry sighed. "That's the big reason why the wizarding world secreted itself in the first place, right? Jealousy? I can see why Rhiannon would feel that way. When my own magic was missing, I know I sure--"
"Oh Rhiannon isn't jealous," Draco interrupted. "She's just enraptured to find magic is real. She always hoped and dreamed it was, you know."
"Then how do you know she didn't take you back just to be near your magic?"
Draco's eyes went cold as he pushed away what remained of his meal. "I think I'll go work on my summer homework. Please do excuse me."
Snape waited until Draco's door had closed, and then spoke in a low voice. "That was close to a taunt, Harry."
Had it been? Harry hadn't meant it like one.
"What did you intend him to reply, to a question like that?"
Snape's voice wasn't quite cold, but it certainly wasn't pleased, either. Harry hurriedly put down his cup of soda. "Um . . . I don't really know."
Snape stared at him for a long moment. "Interesting that you should mention jealousy. I'm beginning to wonder if you might be the one with that particular problem."
Harry gave his father an incredulous look. "You think I want Rhiannon for myself?"
"She is a breathtakingly beautiful young lady."
"Yeah, she is," admitted Harry, though he was still shaking his head. "But it's like Remus said about Draco's mum. I can tell she's very attractive, but she doesn't do anything for me."
Snape went perfectly still, his dark eyes turning into those endless tunnels again, like he was contemplating a complex brew as it simmered before him. Then his expression cleared, and he seemed to see Harry once more. "You compare Rhiannon Miller to Narcissa, do you? I wasn't aware that you disliked Draco's petite amie."
"I don't dislike her. I didn't mean it that way." Harry bit his lip, then remembered to lower his voice in case Draco was eavesdropping. The way Snape was speaking, so quietly, said that he thought that might be the case. "I guess what I meant, saying that to Draco, was just . . . I'd rather she not come along to our dinner with Dudley, that's all."
"I'm surprised you would want to discourage his relationship with her. It can't have escaped your attention what a salutary effect it may have. Is having already, I would say."
"I know, I just . . ." Harry ran a hand through his hair. No point, really, in telling Snape that he was worried that this relationship couldn't work out well, in the long run. Snape had heard it all before, and had told Harry that that was basically Draco's business. And Marsha had said much the same thing, so maybe Harry was actually out of line. "I'll be more careful what I say around Draco. And sure, Rhiannon can come out to dinner with us." He did his best to smile, but from the look on his father's face, he didn't succeed so well.
In fact, by then Snape was wearing a decidedly odd expression. Not one Harry often saw; he looked like he literally had no idea what to say.
Harry felt pretty bad, then. He hadn't meant to cause any kind of upset, to anyone. Not even Draco. "Look, I like Rhiannon just fine, all right? I don't have anything against her."
"Harry . . ." Snape waited until Harry looked up at him. "I believe you, but it still strikes me that you may be feeling rather left out. Romantically. Perhaps your remark to Draco was more a reflection of your own worries in that regard."
It was distinctly nerve-wracking to hear his father talking this way. Harry's love-life, or lack of one, was really his own private business, after all. Still, that last comment was intriguing enough that Harry couldn't let it pass. "My own worries?"
"In your case, that whomever you fall for may return the feeling because of your fame."
Harry blew out a breath. "Yeah, I've thought of that, believe me."
"And Draco, of course, has circumvented any similar question by choosing from outside our world entirely. Not that he was ever remotely famous, but his former last name does have strong associations."