"Not an unreasonable point of view," observed Snape. "What do you propose to do?"
Draco slanted him a glance. "The way I see it, there's only one thing to do. Hermione's got to meet Rhiannon. Though I don't want the two of them ganging up on me, so Harry had better come along as well. What do you say, Harry? A double date?"
The glint in his eye said that he was looking forward to Ron's reaction.
"No, thanks," said Harry hastily. Ron probably wasn't daft enough to start thinking that Harry was after Hermione, but on the other hand, Ron had thought some pretty daft things in the past.
"Oh, come on. We'll have loads of fun. She's not that Celeste girl, you know."
"You still owe me for that."
"No, I don't. We all went to the seaside on your say-so the next day."
"Oh, yeah." Harry had forgotten he'd already used the favour Draco had promised. And really, some time with Hermione would be good. When Draco and Rhiannon were mooning over each other, Harry could ask her if she'd got that translation rod yet. "All right, on one condition. You can't taunt Ron with it, ever. I mean it. And stop calling it a date. It's friends going out together, that's all."
"That's two conditions."
"Yeah, so be a Slytherin and take the deal before I think of a few more."
Draco gave a slow smile. "Done. Though in my case it most definitely is a date. Let's see, then . . . Rhiannon hasn't got rehearsals on Thursdays; those are for performances, and this is an off week, so I'll write Hermione back and see if we can set something up." He glanced over at Snape. "Is it all right if I send along one of those Portkeys the headmaster gave you?"
"You didn't consult me last time," drawled Snape.
"Does that mean yes or no? I can't tell."
"It means I prefer to be consulted."
Draco's smile faltered. "Yes, sir. I should have. But as these Portkeys will only work for those who've been told about the cottage and seeing that the headmaster laced them with all manner of spells so the Ministry can't even detect their use, I didn't see much cause for concern."
"Perhaps you are learning impulse control if you considered all that." Snape waved a hand. "Include one, yes. But don't help yourself to them, Draco. The headmaster entrusted them to me. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," Draco said again, his voice very low.
Personally, Harry thought he was lucky to have got off without lines. Perhaps Snape thought that wasn't the way to deal with a son now an adult, though. Harry hoped so, anyway, since his own birthday wasn't far off.
He tried hard to sound enthusiastic. "Did Rhiannon get Tuesday off for the family dinner?"
"Oh, she can't come to that, sorry," said Draco, scowling. "She rang that Adrian bloke, but like a complete git, he wouldn't let her skive off rehearsal. On the bright side though, I did learn how to use a phone."
Harry almost laughed. "It's not hard."
"No, but it seems an awful waste having to remember all those numbers that really bear no relation to the person you want to reach. Not like spells, which at least mean something, most times . . ." He grinned, then. "Come to think of it, though, I have Rhiannon's number memorised already. Too bad we can't get one of those, what are they called? Something like mobilicorpus--"
"Mobile," said Harry. And of course they could get one. Harry had used one at Number Twelve, after all, though he was still a little unclear on how the battery had got charged. He decided not to mention all that, though.
No doubt about it, if Draco had access to a phone, he'd be talking to Rhiannon every waking minute, and probably most of the night, as well.
------------------------------------------------------
"Harry," said Piers, smiling slyly as he pulled open the front door. For a moment it seemed like he had eyes only for Harry; Piers' gaze raked him up and down, the look on his face something close to predatory. But then that expression faded and Piers turned to the other men standing on the stoop. "Draco, Mr Snape . . . Come in, please. Dudley said you'd all be visiting, tonight."
Harry hid a frown as he went into the living room. He'd been hoping that he wouldn't have to see Piers at all. Didn't security guards work at night, most of the time?
"Dudley should be home from his job in a few minutes," continued Piers as the door closed with an audible click. "So, have a seat, make yourselves at home. . ." He laughed, a little derisively. "Really, Harry, you are home, you know--"
Harry sat down on the black leather couch in a hurry, ignoring the way its cushy depths tried to swallow him whole. In the next instant, he was feeling quite annoyed with himself. Piers shouldn't be able to make him feel out-of-place like that. But then, it wasn't really Piers' comment that had done that; it was all the history in this room. Even rebuilt and redecorated, even without photos of Dudley looking on from every wall, Harry could feel the weight of the past bearing down on him.
Snape sat down beside him, his lips pursed; Harry didn't know why. No chance to ask, either, because just then, Harry noticed that Draco was still standing.
Harry followed Draco's line of sight to see that Dudley's wide-screen telly was on, the sound turned down low. And Draco was more than staring at it; he actually looked transfixed. Hypnotised, even though the telly at that moment was showing nothing more interesting than a commercial for washing-up liquid.
As Harry watched, his brother's mouth actually began to drop open.
Harry jumped up. "Could you get us all some water, Piers? Or better yet, some Coke or something? With ice?"
Piers shrugged, turning away. The moment he was out of sight, Harry took two steps toward Draco and shook the boy's arm. "Come on, it's just a telly," he said, very low. "I told you about them."
Draco blinked several times, but kept his gaze glued to the set. "It's so . . . I didn't think it would be so bright and colourful . . . And to think, you said their pictures never moved."
"That was when we were talking about photographs. Sit down, Draco--"
"Wait. I want to see how long until it repeats--"
Laughing a little, Harry gave his brother a friendly nudge into one of the two leather easy chairs in the room. "It's not going to repeat. It just keeps changing. Didn't Rhiannon's uncle have the telly on at all this past weekend?"
Draco shook his head, leaning to the side so Harry wouldn't block his view.
Well, perhaps the best way to handle this was to get him used to Muggle technology as quickly as possible. Sighing, Harry picked up the remote control and clicked the channel button a few times, showing Draco how. Then he handed the remote to his brother. "Have a blast."
Draco started methodically cycling through the channels, his eyes looking almost feverish by then.
Harry looked over at Snape, who merely shrugged and patted the seat next to him.
By the time Piers came back, a drink in each hand and a third one sort of caught between his arm and body, Draco had settled on a news programme, but he managed to look away from the telly long enough to take the tall glass Piers was holding out.
To Harry's amazement, Draco didn't even make a face at the prospect of drinking something a Muggle had just prepared. Perhaps he was just too distracted by the images flickering across the television screen? If so, one swallow of the fizzing Muggle soda seemed to cure him of that.
Almost shuddering, Draco hurriedly set it down on a lacquered side table.
When Harry tasted his, he understood. Diet Coke. Draco had ranted about it on the day he'd bought fish and chips for everyone. Apparently Rhiannon ordered it all the time, which Draco found completely baffling. Harry didn't dislike it, though. He drank his portion down thirstily, the leaned forward to set his glass down next to Draco's.